Now all that was out of the question. She went back into the main room and looked around. Her gaze fell on the small desk against the wall. She went over and pulled out a handful of papers. She’d seen them all before—who could live in another person’s house for a month and not take a look at the few papers in it?
Stone hadn’t left anything valuable in the house, but maybe there was something that would tell her where he’d gone. She threw the mail Sam had picked up down on the desktop. She’d already read the two letters—one from some store in Oregon City and the fateful letter from his niece. Of course, they weren’t supposed to open them. Sam wasn’t even supposed to get them from the post office, but Millie had envisioned the possibility of learning something useful if they did. And so it had seemed.
She’d prodded Sam into answering Anne Stone’s letter—and a fat lot of good it had done them. She’d figured they could trick the girl into giving her “uncle” a loan at the least. But instead of taking easy pickings from the rich man’s niece, they’d gotten a posse.
Ah, there it was. From the papers, she plucked a note from an outfitter in Scottsburg. The supplies you requested will be ready when you arrive in late September. So Scottsburg was the jumping-off place for David Stone’s new property. She could go there and pick up his trail, with or without Sam.
She put the papers back in the desk’s pigeonhole and hurried to the kitchen cupboard. A couple of empty flour sacks lay folded on the bottom shelf, and she grabbed one and began filling it with foodstuffs. No sense leaving good food here. After packing two sacks with supplies, she walked slowly about the room, looking at the furnishings with fresh eyes. What would help her along the way? Stone had left Sam well provisioned but had only left him a couple of dollars for emergency cash. That was long gone.
She picked up the small, decorative lantern from the desk. It had always appealed to her. If she didn’t find it useful, she could sell it. She also pocketed a pen that looked like it was made of silver and a couple of sheets of paper, which she folded up neatly. One just never knew what one would need.
An afterthought sent her back to the kitchen shelves. She added a tinderbox and a few candle stubs to her stash, along with a tin cup, a plate, a fork, two knives, a spoon, and a small kettle.
Did she dare spend the night in the barn? She could leave her horse saddled in case a fast getaway became necessary. And she’d have the bundles ready to strap to the roan’s saddle in the morning. She’d better pack some oats for the horses, too. In some ways, she hoped Sam would get loose and come back. In other ways, she might do better without him. She reached for a second cup and stopped. She’d worry about Sam Hastings if and when he showed his face.
“You let him go?” Dan stared incredulously at the marshal. “I don’t understand.”
Bank sighed and polished the deputy marshal’s star on his hunting shirt with his cuff. “I didn’t have enough evidence.”
“He was impersonating another man.”
“Got no proof.”
Dan eyed him critically. “Last night you said all that about the county clerk knowing the real David Stone.”
“Well yes, there is that.” Bank ambled to the small stove that heated the room he claimed as his official office and the attached cell. He picked a tin cup off a shelf and filled it with coffee. “I guess what I should have said was we’ve got no proof that the man I arrested wasn’t also named David Stone.”
Dan huffed out a breath. “So now he’ll go back to Mr. Stone’s house and squat there? Miss Anne has no recourse?”
“Well, no, I told him he can’t do that. See, Mr. Skinner came by this morning. He knew right away that this wasn’t Miss Stone’s uncle—that is, the man who owns the property. Don’t know if you realized it, but Eugene Skinner’s a lawyer.”
“I think he mentioned it the other day.”
Bank scratched his chin through his beard. “Yeah, well, he’s a lot of things, and that’s one of ’em. I asked him to come take a look at the prisoner. He did, and he said it wasn’t David Stone. But the prisoner insisted he was David Stone. He didn’t have any proof, but he stuck to his story. Mr. Skinner said he wasn’t the same David Stone who bought that piece of property last year and came in once a month or so for his mail. He said he happened to know that Mr. Stone had bought some land up Scottsburg way and was talking about prospecting up there.”
“I don’t suppose he could have told us that two days ago when Miss Anne and I met him at the post office.”
Bank shrugged. “He didn’t know what was going on. Says he mentioned to his wife last night that two people was in looking for Mr. Stone—meaning you and Miss Anne Stone. But he wasn’t sure if Stone was out to his farm or not.”
Dan nodded. He guessed it made sense that Skinner had sent them to Stone’s place without further explanation. He wouldn’t want the postmaster broadcasting his private business to the world.
“Well, Miz Skinner told him that last week this other feller came in and took David Stone’s mail.” Bank started to take a sip from his cup then hesitated. “You want coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Dan said.
“Right. Well, apparently the fella in question told her at the post office that he was Stone’s farmhand and was watching the place for the boss while he went to look at his new property. But Mr. Skinner didn’t know that when he saw you.”
“That just beats all,” Dan said. “Did she know the other man’s name? I assume he’s the one you had in the jail overnight.”
“He didn’t give it, and she didn’t ask.” Bank lifted his cup to his lips.
“So we’re supposed to believe that David Stone hired another man by the same name to watch his place for him.”
“I expect he was lying when he took the mail,” Bank conceded.
“Yeah. He could be lying so bad that he’s done in David Stone and taken over his property.”
Bank frowned. “Murder?”
“Could be, don’t you think?”
Bank stroked his chin. “Guess I’d better ride out there again and talk to some of the neighbors. Ask ’em when they last saw Mr. Stone. The real Mr. Stone, that is.”
“Good idea. And while you’re at it, ask if they know who this other man is and if they’ve seen Millie about the place.”
“Yup. I’ll do that. But I wouldn’t put any notions of Stone being murdered into Miss Anne’s pretty head.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t suggest it.” Dan crammed his hat onto his head and beat it for the boardinghouse. He’d have to tell Anne that Bank had let the impostor go. She wasn’t going to like that news.
Millie huddled in the alley between the barber shop and a freighter’s stable. Her auburn hair was hidden under a drab poke bonnet, and she wrapped her shawl close. She risked a lot, coming into town this morning, but much depended on knowing what the uppity Englishwoman and her friends decided to do next.
Adams came out of the jail and hurried down the street. She reckoned Bank Raynor was still in there, and she surely didn’t want him to see her. Probably Sam was in there, too, warming the bunk in a jail cell.
She waited until Adams turned a corner and set out after him. His long legs carried him quickly, and she had to lift her skirt and hustle, which garnered her curious stares from several pedestrians. He entered one of the more substantial houses near the river. Eugene City was just putting down its roots, and most of the residents lived in cabins or small houses thrown together out of logs or whatever lumber they could get their hands on. This one looked a little more respectable. She walked closer and spied a small sign swinging from the porch roof. ROOMS.
So, the so-called friends whom Miss Stone and Adams were staying with consisted of boarders. Unless they owned the boardinghouse.
“Millie?”
She whirled around. Wobbling down the street toward her on unsteady legs was Sam Hastings.
“What are you doing here?” She grabbed his arm and spun him around. He nearly fell over and clutched at
her, leaning heavily on her shoulder. “I thought the marshal had you locked up.”
“So he did, but Mr. Skinner came in this morning early and told him he had to let me go.”
“And you headed straight for the nearest saloon.” Millie shook her head and untangled his arm from about her shoulders. “If you can’t walk straight, I don’t want to be seen with you. Where were you headed, anyway?”
“Over to the livery. I got no horse, and the marshal said he wouldn’t take me back to the farm. Said I have to stay away from there. ‘Course, I have to get my stuff. And my horse. Got to get old Blue. I’m sure Mr. Stone would want me to have old Blue.”
“Old Blue’s not at the farm,” Millie said.
“He’s not?” Sam stopped in the middle of the dirt street and blinked at her. “Where’d he get to?”
She seized his wrist and pulled him out of the way of an approaching wagon. “I’ve got him and the mare outside of town. I packed up some stuff, but I didn’t take your clothes because I figured they’d keep you in jail for a while.”
“Well, they didn’t, but I can’t stay at the house. I don’t reckon Mr. Stone would want me to now, anyways.” He scowled at her. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into trying to trick his niece, Millie. That ruined everything. I had a nice, soft job there. Plenty to eat, a roof over my head.”
“Oh, stop whining. There’s still money in this. I can smell it.”
Sam shook his head. “Don’t see how.”
“You wouldn’t. Just come with me. You can take Blue out to the farm and get your clothes. I’m going to stick around town and see if I can find out what Miss Stone plans to do next.”
“Why should you care?”
“Because her uncle has money. Buckets of it. Enough to set us up for life, unless I’m mistaken.”
Sam considered that, puckering his brow and weaving on his feet with the effort of thinking. “Can’t see how we’d ever get it now.”
“You leave that to me.”
“I can’t believe Deputy Raynor let that thug go.” Anne sat in the parlor of the boardinghouse with Dan, who had summoned her from her room on his return from a consultation with the deputy marshal at the jail.
The landlady came to the door with a laden tray.
“Here you go, miss. Tea just the way you like it. And I put some muffins and a few sugar cookies on. This gentleman has probably worked up an appetite already.”
Dan grinned at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Brady. Your baking can’t be beat.”
“I agree,” Anne said. “Eugene City may be a little rough around the edges, but your table is fit for royalty.”
Mrs. Brady flushed to the roots of her wispy white hair. She set down the tray and waved a hand through the air, smiling. “Oh, go on now. You folks would flatter me to death.”
Anne smiled as the older woman backed out of the room with a little bow. Of course the tea tray would be extra on her bill, but she couldn’t bring herself to forgo the amenities. And Dan deserved it, after spending so much time sorting out her affairs with Bank Raynor. Two more months until she could draw more money from her trust; she’d already sent a letter by ship to the family solicitor, asking that he arrange for the bank at Oregon City to give her a payment early in January.
“Daniel, what do you think I should do?” She poured him a cup of the strong black tea and passed it to him.
“I assume you still want to find your uncle.”
“Of course. That’s my main purpose.”
He nodded as he stirred sugar into his tea. “As I see it, he’s away from home for an indeterminate period of time.”
“Yes, but he should be coming back.” She gazed at him bleakly across the tea table. She didn’t want to voice the thought that Uncle David might be dead. No doubt Dan had thought of it, too, but she refused to give the idea credence. “Should I stay at his house, do you think?”
“Well, that depends. I’d think you have the right to if you want, and I can understand your desire to secure his property. But it’s isolated. Mr. Raynor and Rob both seem to think a farm like that might be the target of thieves. Maybe even Indians who want to ‘borrow’ some beef.”
Anne shivered. She certainly couldn’t live out there alone. “I came all the way across the continent without having any run-ins with the natives. If you please, I’d rather not contemplate getting on their bad side now.”
He chuckled. “I’m with you there. Well, you could stay here, I suppose, and ask Mr. Skinner to tell you when Mr. Stone next shows up to collect his mail.”
That was out of the question, though she didn’t say so. She couldn’t afford to pay for her room and board until January. After that, it shouldn’t be a problem, but in the meantime Mrs. Brady had to live, too. “I wonder what will happen to his cattle. The impostor said Uncle David hired him to tend things while he was away. Do you suppose he was telling the truth?”
“Your uncle wouldn’t leave the place abandoned—not with livestock on it. Maybe that part was true. Anyway, Raynor said he’ll go out there and see to the animals and talk to some of the neighbors. Maybe he can get a better idea of what’s been going on.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Maybe I should just stay put today and see what he finds out.” Anne glanced uneasily toward the door. “Of course, I hate to keep Rob and Dulcie away from their home any longer than necessary. Or you either, Daniel.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m here to help you see this through. And tomorrow’s Sunday. We can attend church here in town and rest. Let’s see what Bank turns up. Then if you want to stick around here for a while, you could tell the Whistlers it’s all right for them to head on home. I’m sure Mrs. Brady would be considered an adequate chaperone for you if you stayed in Eugene.”
“Well, I’ll think about it. I do want you to know how much I appreciate your coming down here and giving up your time.”
“Anne, it’s my pleasure.”
His deep voice and earnest gray eyes brought on a curious fluttering in her stomach. Anne sipped her tea, trying to analyze the sensation. She still didn’t want to marry a man whose greatest ambition was to grow wheat. Not that farming was a dishonorable profession, but she was sure the life would bore her to tears. Still, if one was honest with oneself, Dan Adams was a handsome man, and in the months she’d known him, she’d found him kind, thoughtful, and reverent. A lady could do worse.
By Sunday morning, Millie was ready to tear her hair out. Were these people going to just sit in Eugene forever? She’d spent two nights curled up in a bedroll in an unsuspecting farmer’s barn outside town. The only decent boardinghouse was occupied by Anne Stone and her entourage. She and Sam could hardly show up there. And Deputy Raynor was watching the Stone place like a hawk. Sam had barely gotten away with his extra socks and gloves.
She and Sam had stayed outside most of Saturday, never remaining in one spot too long. But today was colder—a blunt reminder that November had arrived three days ago. She had a coat, but Sam’s light wool jacket wouldn’t be adequate for winter.
She picked wisps of hay from her hair and smoothed out her blankets. Why did she bother to worry about Sam, anyway?
He stirred and rolled over in the hay with a moan.
“Wake up,” Millie said. “We need to get out of here. The farmer will be out to feed his stock soon.”
Sam pushed himself up on one elbow and blinked at her in the dimness of the barn. “What are we going to do today?”
“We’re going to find out what Miss Hoity-Toity Anne’s plans are.”
“How do we do that?”
A good question. Millie rose and gathered her bedroll and extra clothes. “I have ideas. Hurry up. We’ll go someplace where we can cook breakfast first. The same spot we ate supper last night.”
“All right, I’m coming.”
She walked on the spongy hay over to the edge of the loft and climbed down the ladder, balancing her load. She almost wished Sam hadn’t gotten out of jail and found her. He wa
s just slowing her down. Why should she always have to wait for her stupid brother? Even after all these years, Millie cringed at the words that had leaped into her thoughts. Her stepmother had beaten her soundly for calling Sam that. She was forbidden to ever say the word stupid. Now, when she thought it, she felt the sting of the switch on her legs—twenty years later.
She opened the back door of the barn—the small door beside the manure heap—and slipped out. Just as she closed it behind her, she heard another sound—the grinding of the big front barn door as its wheels rolled along the track.
She caught her breath and listened, her ear to the crack she’d left between the door and the jamb. Was Sam still up in the hay mow or had he started down the ladder?
“Hey! What are you doing in here?” a man shouted.
“Me?” Sam asked. Millie could almost hear him gulp. “I–I’m not doing anything.”
Stupid half brother.
CHAPTER 6
We can’t just go off and leave you here.” Dulcie threw a pleading look at Rob over the dinner table. They’d just returned from the service at the rustic little church, and Anne had raised the question of the Whistlers going back to Corvallis without her.
Rob settled back in his chair with a sigh. “Now, sweetheart, Miss Anne is an adult. If she wants to stay and wait for her uncle, that’s her right, and if she wants to head up into the hills looking for him, well, that’s her right, too.”
“But she’s such a pretty young thing. She can’t travel around mining country unchaperoned.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Dan said.
“That’s almost as bad,” Dulcie replied. “I know you mean no harm, Daniel, but can’t you see how it would look if Miss Anne traipsed about the wilderness with you?”
Anne decided it was time she spoke up. “Dulcie, dear, I know you mean well, but I’m sure Dan is capable of protecting me.” She flashed a glance his way and saw him flush with pleasure and straighten his shoulders a fraction of an inch. She would have to be careful not to imply more than she meant where he was concerned. “And Mr. Skinner says there are towns all along the road to Scottsburg. We should be able to find respectable lodgings when we need them, at least that far.”
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 38
