River Song

by Sharon Ihle

  "Eileen has him."

  "Dust Bucket, then. Where have you hidden her?"

  "Your quarter mare?" Sean scooted away from the ledge and began to fumble with his bonds. "So I'm accused of horse theft, too, huh?"

  Cole ducked and whirled around. "You took her, didn't you?"

  "No," he spat, "but I can see I'm going to get the blame for everything that goes wrong from here on out. Maybe you'd better untie me and let me take my chances with prairie wolves and Apaches."

  "Sean." Cole approached him, palms upward. "What else was I to think? You and my mare were missing. Buck was dead."

  "And don't forget about the war club," Sean grumbled.

  "A weapon," Cole said by way of apology, "anyone with access to the house could have taken." But who would have taken it—why?he suddenly wondered. The only ranch hands allowed in the house were Buck and the two cooks; Grubby, a man with a scorpion whip for a tongue but the body of a slug, and Tag, his young apprentice who was afraid of his own shadow. Neither was capable of standing up to, much less killing, Buck Wheeler. Other than his own family, the only person allowed to roam freely throughout the large house, was Sunny.

  Sunny? Sean's mind arrived at the same conclusion. He recalled her plan to take the war club for protection. Adding that to the missing horse, he tossed in the fact she hadn't met him at the fork as planned. Had she crossed paths with Buck as she tried to make her departure from the Triple F ranch? If so, what could he possibly have done or said to drive her to such a violent and bloody deed? And where was she now?

  Cole watched the half-breed's expression, wondering if they shared the same thoughts. Ashamed and horrified by musings that included visualizing Sunny on the business end of the war club, Cole turned away as his men came over the edge of the hill. Rushing to greet them, he settled on a plan.

  "Tom, Jacob. I want you boys to take Sean into town. Tell the sheriff to care for him as if he were a Fremont."

  "But boss," Stormy objected. "I thought we was gonna hang him right here.”

  "That's enough of that kind of talk." Cole drew his pistol and faced his men. "Anyone else thinking of having a hanging party?"

  A few of the men grumbled, but none stepped forward. "Then hear me out," Cole continued. "I'm not so sure we've got the right man. I want the rest of you to go back to the ranch with me. We're going to tear that place apart looking for Buck's killer, and we're not going to stop until we're sure this time. Understood?"

  Through muttered groans, the ranch hands shrugged, then turned and started back down the hill.

  Regarding his two most trusted employees, Cole said, "As I was saying, I want this man treated like he's my long lost brother. He'd better arrive in Phoenix alive and well, and you'd best make sure the sheriff understands I want him to stay that way. Any questions?"

  "No, sir," the men replied in unison.

  With a nod, Cole turned his attention to Sean, and knew as his gaze locked with the half-breed's that they had been entertaining the same horrifying thoughts about the woman they both loved.

  "When you see my sister," Sean said, his gaze still locked and unblinking, "tell her to speak to no one but you."

  Allowing Tom to lead him past Cole, he added under his breath, "And make sure she comes to talk to me before she does something else she may regret."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "Nell, please. You know I wouldn't bother you at a time like this if it wasn't important."

  Nellie Fremont Wheeler sobbed into her pillow, both ashamed of her tears and disgusted with herself. She wept for purely selfish reasons, not for her dead husband. She thought only of her bleak future, not about the fact that Buck no longer had one. What kind of person was she, anyway? She didn't deserve her brother's attempts at consolation, or his love.

  "Nell?" Cole whispered softly as he eased his weight onto the edge of the bed. "If there's anything I can do, something I can get for you, please tell me what it is. I'm sorry if I added to your grief."

  If he could have, at that moment Cole would have kicked himself clear across the room. Why hadn't he taken a little more time soothing her, easing her sorrow before he started asking questions about Buck and throwing suspicion on his character? He should be comforting his sister, not casting doubt on her husband's memory.

  His fingers tentative, Cole reached down and massaged Nell's trembling back. "Hush now," he encouraged, hoping to find a way to be of some use to her. "It's going to be all right."

  "No, it's not," she shrieked into her pillow. "It's never going to be all right again!"

  "Take it easy, honey. Of course things will get better." Increasing the pressure, Cole moved his palm in a circular motion up and down Nellie's spine. "I know you'll never forget Buck and the love you had for him, but in time the memories won't hurt so much."

  Instead of the calming affect he was looking for, Cole's words increased her sobs, raising the volume of her wailing until he could stand it no longer. He slid off the bed and straightened. "I think it's best if I leave you to your grief. Maybe we can talk later."

  He'd only taken one step when she pulled her head off the pillow and rolled to the edge of the bed. Stumbling, her arms outstretched, she said, "No, don't go. Don't leave me alone. I need you. I need someone to talk to."

  Then she was in his arms. Her pale hands fluttered against his chest as sobs racked her body. Uncomfortable, with no idea how to help her, Cole suggested, "You need to talk, but not to me. I'll go get Mother."

  "No." Nellie jerked out of his arms and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You may not think you can help me, but I know you're the only one who can. Mother would never understand. I promise to calm down if you'll stay. Please stay."

  "Yes, yes, of course." Kissing her forehead, he squeezed her shoulders then held her at arms length. "But I can't stay long. You realize why, don't you?"

  Nodding, Nellie took in a great gulp of air. "I know. I'm worried about Sunny myself. I think she must have left sometime during the night, beca—" A sob robbed her of her breath and the rest of her sentence.

  "Come on." Taking Nell's hand, Cole led her to the gilded ivory dressing table and chair in the room from which Sunny had so recently fled. Urging her to take a seat, he leaned against the table. "Comfortable?"

  "Yes. Thank you." Picking up a discarded yellow ribbon, the one Sunny had worn the day she arrived at the Triple F ranch, Nellie stroked the slick satin. "Anyway, Sunny wasn't here when Mother came to tell me about Buck. The room looked just like it does now, except the bed hadn't been disturbed. I don't think she even napped before she left. Why on earth would she do that?"

  Nellie cut off her own words when she remembered. "Oh, I almost forgot." Digging into her wrapper pocket, she pulled out a small sealed envelope. "This was on the pillow for you. Maybe it will answer some of your questions."

  Snatching the envelope from his sister, Cole tore it open. He quickly read the contents, read them again, and groaned.

  "Well?" Nellie raised an expectant eyebrow.

  "She only says she's leaving, that she doesn't want to be the cause of any further discord among the fine Fremont family, thanks for everything, and that she'll ..." Swallowing hard, Cole stuck the note in his pocket and whispered the final words, "And that she'll always love me."

  "Oh, Cole." Reversing their roles, Nellie reached for her brother's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You have to go after her."

  "I know, and I plan to, but I can't just leave Sean under arrest for a murder I know he didn't commit. Sunny won't be very happy to see me if I leave her brother behind to hang."

  "Maybe Dad can help."

  "You must be kidding. He's just sure the Indian did it, and I don't have the time or patience to convince him otherwise. If it wouldn't upset you too much, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Buck."

  "That's not a problem."

  "But when I asked you earlier, when I first came in here, you were a mess about Buck’s death."

  "I know. Tha
t's what I was talking about when I said I thought you'd understand. I wasn't crying over Bucky. I was crying over me." Shame burned her cheeks. Nellie wove the ribbon between her fingers, twisted the end around her thumb, then let it unravel and drop into her lap. "I know you all think Buck used me, that he married me just to get his hands on part of the ranch."

  "Now stop that."

  "It's all right. I know that's why he married me, and it doesn't bother me at all. I used him, too. I'm just as guilty as he is."

  Cole pushed away from the table and dropped into a crouch at his sister's knees. "Nellie? What are you trying to tell me?"

  "That my grief is for myself," she cried. "Bucky wasn't much of a husband, but he was my husband. He gave me respectability, a reason for people to stop feeling sorry for me." Fighting off another sob, she clinched her fists. "Don't you see? I know I'll never find another man to share my life, and I'll die a lonely old woman."

  "That's just not so. You have a lot to offer a man, any man. I won't listen to you talk about yourself this way."

  "But it's true. Oh, I don't know if I can explain it any better than that."

  "Try. Help me to understand."

  She hung her head and stared at the criss-cross pattern of her skirt and shrugged. "There aren't many men who want to marry a woman who can't bear his children."

  "Is that what this is all about? You didn't tell Buck you were infertile before you married him?"

  Nellie slowly shook her head. "No, I told him. That was all right with Buck. In fact, I think he was mighty happy to hear he wouldn't have to put up with a passel of brats."

  Cole slid a finger under her chin and tilted her head until she had to look at him. "I think you know there are other men in this world who don't mind not having a family, widowers in this town who'd snap you up in a minute. There's something else, isn't there?"

  Nellie sniffed, but kept her tears in check. "How many men do you think there are who wouldn't mind having a wife whose insides are so messed up that she screams in pain every time he tries to touch her?"

  "Oh, Nell," Cole sighed and reached for her hands. "I didn't know."

  "I didn't know either. I didn't intentionally fool him into marrying what he thought was a whole woman, but deep inside I guessed things weren't right with me, that it might not be possible for me to consummate our marriage."

  "And knowing Buck, I suppose that didn't set too well with him."

  Again Nell sniffed, but this time it was with disdain. "Although he never said it in quite these words, he thought it was an awfully high price to pay for what he hoped would be half of this ranch." Dabbing at her nose, she added, "It didn't take him long to start satisfying his needs elsewhere. I know I shouldn't have blamed him for that, but it hurt just the same."

  "Of course it did." Cole rose and pulled Nellie from her chair. Cradling her in his arms, he whispered, "Believe me when I say there are good men out there who would be happy to marry you just the way you are, and remain true to you in the bargain."

  Her tears were like a team of horses rearing to go. It took all Nellie's strength to rein them in and say to her brother, "That's hard to believe. What if it were you and Sunny? What if she had, what if she couldn't—"

  "I love Sunny. Love always finds a way."

  "You mean you'd go to her anyway, you would stay by her side and never stray?"

  "Never, little sister."

  Nellie gasped, and a sob tore from her throat. Was it possible? Could she actually manage to have a complete relationship? Was there someone waiting for her somewhere, a man more gentle and caring than Buck had been?

  Watching his sister's expression change from despair to hope, Cole grinned and took her face between his big hands. He stared into the depths of her golden eyes and said, "You see, there is always hope, and a very good chance that you will someday find the love you've been denied. You've got to believe that."

  Nellie lost control. Tears sprang from her eyes, leaving her incapable of speech. She sobbed against her brother's leather vest until she could cry no more.

  "Sorry," she finally managed.

  "Don't apologize. If you're able yet, the only thing I want from you is a little help."

  "Sure." Pulling back from him, she reached for a lace-trimmed hanky and turned away as she blew her nose. Facing Cole again, she straightened her shoulders and thrust her chin out. "What do you need to know?"

  Cole's grin widened and turned up the corners of his mustache. "You're gonna be just fine, sis."

  "I know I am," she grinned back. "Now, what can I do for you?"

  "Tell me about Buck. Think back to when he returned from Maricopa. Was he acting any different or suspicious? Did he have any cuts or fresh wounds?"

  Nellie screwed up her features and pressed a finger against her temple. "He did have a long cut just below his knee. He said he tripped over the spittoon at The Bucket and fell on his own knife. Said he bled like a stuck pig."

  "How was he acting?"

  Nellie shrugged and twisted her mouth to one side. "Same as usual, I guess. Loud and obnoxious."

  "Did he make any comments about Sunny? Ask where she came from or why she was here?"

  "He said several things about her, most of which I'm sure you wouldn't care to have me repeat. Let me think a minute." Intent on remembering anything, no matter how small a detail, concentration cut deep furrows between Nellie's eyes. "Hmmm. You know, he was acting a little loco, even for him, when I told him how you two met."

  Picturing the scene, Nellie began to pace, her finger still pressed against her head. "I told him her mother had been murdered and that Sunny tracked the killer by following the unusual hoofprints. When I mentioned she followed those prints until she stumbled onto you, then nearly killed you, he laughed so hard I thought he was going to choke."

  Nellie stopped her pacing as it all came together like the last piece in a puzzle. Whirling around, she took in her brother's appearance, trembling when she saw the rage building in his expression.

  "Oh, Cole. Did Bucky—could he have—?"

  "I don't know, but I sure as hell intend to find out. And if it turns out Buck was involved in Moonstar's murder, he wasn't alone." Spinning on the heel of his boot, he left Nellie with an order before he crossed the threshold. "Keep this to yourself until I have all the answers. I don't want anyone spooked until I know what's what."

  Then he barreled down the hallway and took the steps two at a time. After crashing through the front door of his home, he stomped across the yard and pushed his way inside the bunkhouse. Pausing only long enough to spot his quarry, Cole stalked across the room and grabbed a fistful of blue and grey checkered material.

  "Get up off that bed."

  Aided by his employer's strong hands, Stormy lifted his tired body off the blanket and stood face-to-face with Cole Fremont. "What's you all excited about?"

  "I've got a few very important questions for you, and I want some straight answers."

  Never taking his intense gaze off the baffled man, Cole shouted out of the corner of his mouth, "The rest of you men clear out. I need a little privacy."

  Still staring down at Stormy with frigid green eyes, Cole heard rather than saw the room empty. Then he said, "Tell me all about your adventures with Buck after the three of us split up in Yuma." He wound more of Stormy's shirt into his palm, this time collecting both sides of the collar. "Tell me everything. Don't leave out so much as one disgusting detail."

  Stormy's little boy features suddenly aged, growing hollow and ashen. "I don't know what yer gettin' at."

  Cole twisted the material, bringing the helper's throat in contact with the back of his knuckles. "I'm short on patience and time. Out with it now, or so help me, I'll wring it out of you."

  The pressure increased against Stormy's throat until he could barely breathe. He squeaked out, "All right, I'll talk."

  Cole relaxed his grip just enough to allow the man a minimal passage of air. "Spill it."

  "We, ah, we
just had ourselves a little fun, Cole. That's all."

  The pressure began to increase again, and he quickly added, "That's how it started out anyways. Buck, him and me, we just had some beers at the saloon, then we was gonna head on back to home."

  "But you took a detour, isn't that right?"

  Stormy's eyes bulged with as much fear as pressure. "You know Bucky, he likes them injun women. I just went along with him. I swear to God, it weren't my idear."

  Cole ground his teeth together as he fought the urge to snap the man's neck and be done with it. Instead, he snarled, "And so you found an Indian woman, one you assumed was alone?"

  Stormy nodded and his eyes grew rounder, brighter.

  "Which one did you kill?" he spat. "The mother or the son?"

  "I didn't kill nobody," he shrieked. "Swear to God, swear to God."

  "Stop your damn babbling and tell me what happened."

  "I am, I am." He brought his hands up and pulled at Cole's wrists, but he couldn't loosen his grip. "Bucky done it. We went in the house and the squaw screamed. I swear, when the injun kid come runnin', Bucky shot him dead the second he walked in the door."

  "That's not the way I heard it. I know that boy wasn't found in the house." He turned his wrist a half a notch.

  "Stop," Stormy begged. "Let me finish. The squaw got all hysterical and Buck, he said, go drag that kid outta here, so I done it. I took him out and hid him in the cornfield. When I come back, Bucky, he, well he'd kilt her too."

  "Aren't you forgetting something? Didn't you boys stop by to have a little fun? Don't try to tell me you and Buck didn't force your miserable selves on that helpless woman."

  "I ain't forgettin. I admit it, we did get to the woman. I, it's just that, well it was after."

  "After?" This time, his hand twisted of its own volition. "After what, you lousy piece of buzzard bait?"

  "After ..." Stormy's voice was raspy, oxygen-starved. His ashen skin had begun to turn blue. "After she were dead."

  Something Cole had no control over, some innate sense of propriety, kept him from tearing the man's head from his body. It didn't, however, stop him from heaving Stormy against the wall, crushing him against the thick wood slabs as if he were nothing more than a pesky fly.