THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “It’s your horse, sir.”

  Dan’s stomach tightened. “What about him? What’s wrong?”

  “When we got out to the barn, he was loose and had his head in the oat bin.”

  “Oh no.” Dan grabbed the towel and quickly wiped the lather from his face.

  “We don’t think he ate too awful much,” Felix said. “And I know for certain sure he was tied when I left him last night. I put him away myself, and I know he was hitched. Besides that, we’ve never known a horse could unhook the top of the grain bin and open it.”

  Dan reached for his shirt. “Is he acting ill? Standing back on his heels? Nipping at his side or anything like that?”

  “No, sir.” Felix looked up at him oddly. “There’s one funny thing, though.”

  Dan continued buttoning his shirt. “What’s that?”

  “Your bridle and Miss Stone’s. They’re all…”

  Dan eyed him sharply. “What about them?”

  “They’re all tied together. Knots everywhere.”

  Dan froze with his hand on his cuff button. “Knots?”

  “That’s right.” Felix gulped.

  “You kids didn’t do that, did you?”

  “No, sir. We wouldn’t.”

  “I didn’t think so.” What in the world was going on? Dan finished buttoning his cuffs and slid his vest on. “Take me out there and show me, please.”

  Felix dashed down the stairs, and Dan followed.

  Half an hour later, he entered the Mosses’ back door with Felix. Anne was already seated at the kitchen table with Becky, eating a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage, flapjacks, and dried blackberries. A china teapot sat near her plate, with a pitcher of cream and a bowl of white sugar nearby.

  “There you are,” she said with a smile. “I thought you were still asleep.” She picked up her knife and fork.

  “No, I’ve been out to the barn with Felix.” Dan pulled out a chair next to her and sat down. “Anne, I think we should leave as soon as possible. Will you be able to pack up your things as soon as you’ve eaten?”

  She sat still with the knife poised over a flapjack, looking at him with troubled brown eyes. “Of course, Daniel. Is something wrong?”

  He sighed. “You remember Cottage Grove? The way our gear was all knotted together?”

  Anne smiled wryly. “How could I forget? But wait.” She frowned and cocked her head to one side. “We thought the Randall children had done it.”

  “Well, I don’t think that anymore.”

  She studied him for a moment. “I see.”

  “It’s almost identical to the other job, and I’m pretty sure the Randall kids haven’t followed us here.”

  “I should think not.”

  Dan shot a glance at Mrs. Moss. She was cracking more eggs at her worktable, but she made no pretense of not listening. “It gets a bit more sinister, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?” Anne asked.

  “Star was loose in the barn, and the grain bin was open.”

  “Oh no. Is he all right?”

  “We think so, but I’ll have to watch him closely today.”

  “But who—?” She glanced around. “Oh Daniel. I can hardly believe this is happening.”

  “Trouble with your horse?” Mrs. Moss asked.

  “Yes. Your husband and the boys discovered it when they went out to do their chores,” Dan said. “The odd thing is it’s not the first time our tack has been tampered with like that.”

  Anne laid her knife down. “I’ll go close up my luggage at once.”

  “No, finish your breakfast,” Dan said.

  “You eat, too, young man.” Mrs. Moss shook her wooden spoon at him.

  Dan smiled. “Thank you, ma’am, I will. But then we’d best get on to Scottsburg.”

  “I’ll fill your plate right now. Becky, run out and see if you can find me a few more eggs, will you?”

  Becky rose, carried her dishes to the sink, and took her hood off its peg. When she was out the back door and their hostess was bustling about to fix his plate, Dan lowered his voice and leaned toward Anne.

  “There’s something I didn’t tell you, and I probably should have.” He glanced up. Mrs. Moss was approaching with a mounded plate. “Oh, thank you. That looks delicious.” He straightened and shook out the napkin at his place.

  She set the plate in front of him. “You’re welcome. I’ll step out for another jug of milk, if you want a bit of privacy.”

  Dan smiled at her. “That’s very kind of you.”

  Mrs. Moss slipped out into the woodshed, and he looked into Anne’s troubled eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Bank Raynor told me the morning we left that Peterson was on the loose. He’d gotten a message from Marshal Nesmith to that effect. I didn’t see that it would help things to tell you, but…well, I should have, and I’m sorry. I also should have been more vigilant.”

  Anne stared at him. “You think Peterson would play childish tricks like this? That makes no sense whatever.”

  Dan leaned back in his chair. “I admit, I struggled with that. But who else, Anne? Think about it.”

  “I don’t know who else, but Peterson wouldn’t hang about and tie our reins in knots. Cold-blooded killers don’t fool around and play pranks. He wanted to kill my uncle, Daniel. Don’t you understand that? To him, Uncle David is a worth a lot of money—but only if he’s proven dead.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The ride to Scottsburg was mercifully short. Anne’s habit was stiff from its soaking the day before. If only Elise were here—she would know how to clean it so that the velvet regained its soft pile. As it was, Anne didn’t think she could stand to wear it in the saddle for a full day.

  Mrs. Moss had given the name of a friend of hers. The widow kept a clean, respectable boardinghouse on a quiet side street of Scottsburg and charged less than the hotels. They found it without any trouble. Mrs. Zinberg welcomed them, smiling when Anne told her of her friend’s recommendation.

  “Oh, that’s just like Lena. Isn’t she the sweetest thing?”

  “She took very good care of us,” Anne said.

  “She would. She’s been extra kind since my William died. I’m moving up to Corvallis in the spring, to be with my daughter, but I’m getting by in the meantime.”

  “My dearest friend lives in Corvallis,” Anne said. “I shall have to give you her name before we leave.”

  A gray drizzle threatened to become a steady rain, and Mrs. Zinberg hustled Anne inside. Dan carried in their bags.

  “Why don’t you get settled, and I’ll take the horses to the livery stable,” he told Anne.

  Mrs. Zinberg said ruefully, “It’s too bad for you to have to take them over there, but I haven’t kept horses since William passed away. I’m afraid you’d find nothing for them to eat in the barn.”

  “It’s all right, ma’am,” Dan said. “I’m sure Miss Stone could use a rest.”

  “Shouldn’t I go along to inquire about Uncle David?” Anne asked.

  “It’s raining again. I truly feel you’re better off to stay where it’s dry and warm.”

  “All right,” Anne said uncertainly. “Just make sure they’re talking about the right man, won’t you?”

  “I will. Tall, blond Englishman, right? Forty years old.”

  “Yes. I do hope you can find out where he is, or at least where his claim lies.”

  “Oh, this uncle of yours is prospecting?” Mrs. Zinberg asked.

  “Yes, at least that’s what we were told. He bought property near here and came to look it over. But he’s been away from his farm more than a month, and we didn’t know when he would return. I hope we haven’t made a mistake in coming all this way.”

  “You go on, sir,” Mrs. Zinberg said to Dan. “Ask at the post office. They should know if he’s around here. I’ll take care of Miss Stone for you, no fear.”

  Dan stood with his hat in his hand, waiting for Anne’s approval. She sensed that it would h
urt him somehow if she didn’t let him do this for her.

  “Yes, go,” she said. “I’ll be fine with Mrs. Zinberg.”

  Anne went upstairs to her snug room under the eaves and unpacked her satchel. Changing out of the itching blue habit into her gray dress lifted her spirits. Her hostess insisted on taking the heavy velvet riding dress and sponging it while she heated water for tea.

  “You needn’t,” Anne said.

  “But you’ll want to wear it tomorrow if you’re riding again.”

  Mrs. Zinberg was so matter-of-fact and Anne was so tired that she let her do it.

  Anne sank into a well-cushioned rocker before the fireplace with a lap robe over her knees. As she watched the flames, she reviewed the journey she and Dan had made from Eugene to Scottsburg, but she could find no logical explanation for the pranks played on them. Peterson’s intentions troubled her, but she couldn’t see a way to find out his whereabouts.

  When Mrs. Zinberg brought the tea tray, she smiled at the plump, graying lady.

  “Thank you so much. This reminds me of home. We got a lot of rainy days in England this time of year, and I would often sit near the fire and read.”

  “Oh, you’re from England?” Mrs. Zinberg seemed unduly surprised by that. “I thought maybe you were from Boston or thereabouts.”

  Anne chuckled. “No, but I’d like to visit that city sometime.”

  “Tell me about England.” Mrs. Zinberg passed her a blue-and-white china cup and saucer. She then poured out her own tea in a mismatched white cup and brown saucer. Anne suspected she had been honored with the only remaining matched pair.

  “Of course it seems the dearest place on earth to me,” she said. “Though Oregon is very nice—in fact, the climate seems quite the same. Of course, you have more hills—and bigger ones.”

  “Very large ones east of here,” Mrs. Zinberg said.

  “Yes. I saw some of those.” Anne chuckled at the memories of her wagon trip. “Bigger trees, too. Much larger. And I’ve never seen such vast fields of corn. Wheat, that is.” She shook her head. “In England, corn is grain of any type.”

  “Really? Then what is corn?”

  Anne smiled. “That is maize.”

  “Ah.” Mrs. Zinberg laced her tea with sugar and offered Anne the bowl.

  “No, thank you. Was your husband a farmer?”

  “No, he was a surveyor.”

  Within the next hour, Anne learned much of her hostess’s story, her ills and her woes, as well as a few fond reminiscences of her husband and their two daughters, now grown and gone.

  At last Mrs. Zinberg rose. “There, if I don’t get moving, we shan’t have any supper.”

  Anne looked about the room. “Do you have a clock? Dan seems to have been a long time in town.”

  “I expect he stepped into one of the taverns for news of your uncle and met some new friends, as they say.” She smiled, but Anne shook her head emphatically.

  “Daniel isn’t like that. He never drinks a drop.”

  “Oh. Then I suppose he may have had some trouble getting word of your uncle and is asking more people.” Mrs. Zinberg frowned and headed for the door to the kitchen shaking her head.

  Her air of disbelief at the same time amused and troubled Anne. If Dan were a drinking man, she’d have no trouble imagining the reasons for his delay. But he was so sober and dependable it was hard to think he’d gone astray from his mission. Looking about for a distraction, Anne found a few books on a shelf. She took down one by Dickens and settled again in the rocker.

  An hour later, Mrs. Zinberg laid the table and sat down with her knitting. She and Anne kept up a sporadic conversation about knitting, yarn, travel, and literature. At last a quick knock came on the door, and the lady of the house rose to open it.

  Dan came in, dripping rain on the rag mat.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s coming down quite hard now.”

  “Don’t fret about the floor,” Mrs. Zinberg said. “Hang your coat over there and come get warm.”

  Anne sank back in her chair with a sigh. Until that moment, she hadn’t admitted to herself how worried she was. She made herself breathe calmly while Dan took off his coat, hat, and boots.

  Mrs. Zinberg shooed him toward the fireplace.

  “Warm your hands while I put supper on the table.” She scurried toward the kitchen.

  Dan scarcely waited until she was out of the room.

  “I’ve some news of Mr. Stone, but I fear our journey is not over.”

  “Oh? I had hoped, but not expected, to find him here.”

  “As did I. But I learned where his claim is. It’s several miles up in the hills, by way of what I’m told is a very rough trail.”

  “Can we do it in a day?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably.” He sat down in the chair opposite Anne on the hearth. “But to go the distance and get back to town safely before nightfall—well, that is debatable. In fact, several gentlemen debated it at length.”

  She smiled.

  “Anne, the oddest thing happened.”

  “Oh?” She sat up straighter and tried to rid her mind of cobwebs.

  “I saw a blue roan tied up in front of a saloon this afternoon.”

  “Is that odd?”

  Dan seemed at a loss for words, but shook himself. “It seemed so to me. This roan was a dead match for the one we saw at your uncle’s farm.”

  Anne sat forward in the chair and stared at him. “Do you think it was the same horse?”

  “It couldn’t be.” Dan held his hands out toward the fire and gazed at the flames. “Could it?”

  “There are lots of blue roans.”

  “Yes, and we didn’t see that one up close. But it’s thin like that one.”

  “Well over sixteen hands, I thought at the time,” Anne said uneasily.

  “More like seventeen. This one, I mean. I stood next to it and thought what a fine horse it could be if it were fattened up.”

  “Black mane,” Anne said.

  “Tail like a crow’s wing.”

  They looked at each other.

  “There was no brand on this one,” Dan said. “I looked him over pretty closely, I’ll tell you. Dark socks on his hind feet, and stockings on the forelegs. All four hooves are black.”

  “What about his face?” Anne asked. “Any markings there?”

  “No, just speckled salt-and-pepper, like the rest of him.”

  She frowned. “I don’t recall any markings on the other one.”

  “Neither do I. He’s nine or ten years old, judging by his molars.”

  “And we’ve no idea how old the one at the farm was,” Anne said.

  “No, but I’ll know this fellow, Hastings, if I meet him on the trail.”

  “There, folks.” Mrs. Zinberg bustled in, wearing her apron. “Supper’s all ready.”

  Dan rose and held out a hand to Anne. She let him assist her in getting out of the rocker.

  “It can’t be the same horse,” she murmured.

  “No, it can’t.”

  “There was that time on the trail between Anlauf and Elkton when I thought I saw a gray horse behind us.”

  “I remember,” Dan said.

  They didn’t speak of it during supper, but kept up a pleasant conversation with their hostess. Afterward, Anne drew Dan back into the parlor.

  “We must go to Uncle David’s land tomorrow, no matter what the weather.”

  “I understand your concern,” Dan said, “but I don’t want to take you out in inclement weather again. If it’s raining in the morning, I think we should wait.”

  “I don’t suppose you inquired about the owner of that curious roan you saw in town.”

  “I did.” He grimaced. “I went inside and asked the barkeep. He said he didn’t know whose it was for sure, but most of the men in there were regulars who were known to him. However, a couple of strangers had come in within the last hour, and he said perhaps it belonged to one of them. Then he looked about as tho
ugh expecting to see them, but apparently they’d left. And when I went back outside, the horse was gone.”

  Anne tapped her chin. “Perhaps he’d already left the tavern when you were there and stepped into one of the shops.”

  “That’s probably what happened. I missed him.” Dan shrugged.

  “We must leave early in the morning,” Anne said. “If we find Uncle David, we can stay at his claim with him overnight. If not…well, we’ll just have to turn around and make our way back down the trail.”

  Dan sighed. “I’m getting to where I feel I know you fairly well, Anne.”

  “Oh, do you?” She smiled at that.

  “Yes, and that’s why I went to the mercantile and stocked up on a few provisions for the trail. There’ll be no boardinghouse up in the mountains. I got enough rations to last us a couple of days, and a packet of lucifers. I hope you won’t think it too bold of me, but I also purchased a cape for you. The shopkeeper told me the material sheds water well. Somehow they’ve woven some India rubber into it. Anyway, I thought you’d not be averse to another layer between you and the rain.”

  Anne hardly knew what to say in the face of his thoughtfulness. She couldn’t offer to pay for the cape and other supplies—her funds were nearly exhausted and they might have a few more nights’ lodging to pay for. Besides, it would hurt his feelings to suggest he’d acted improperly to buy her an article of apparel. She’d already wounded him enough by rejecting his suit. Why dash his fine spirits further by turning down a gift that could very well ward off illness?

  “How kind of you. Of course I’ll take it along. If we have another day such as we dealt with today, I shall find it my favorite piece of clothing, I’m sure.”

  “All right then. We’d best get a good night’s rest. I’ll load up our stuff at first light.”

  David smiled as the waiter set a slice of chocolate meringue pie in front of Charlotte and another at his place. Charlotte’s expressive green eyes all but devoured the dessert.

  “I’m sure I can’t eat all of that,” she said.

  “It’ll be fun to try,” he assured her.

  “Do you want this on your bill, sir?” the waiter asked.

  “Oh yes, certainly,” David said. He’d have to speak to the manager about the awkwardness of having the waiter mention the bill yet again when he was entertaining a guest. He supposed the man wanted to be sure he was paying for Mrs. Evans’s dinner as well as his own—as if any man in his right mind would think he’d dine with a stunner like Charlotte and make her buy her own meal. Besides, he’d paid for her meal yesterday. He’d stayed in town an extra day, using the heavy rain as an excuse. How much of his behavior tonight was due to the lovely Mrs. Evans’s presence?