“Well...” Alice paused dramatically. “Assuming that this sister can never be located, then Miss Emmeline here will be the owner. Isn’t that right, Mr. Meade?”
Again the lawyer nodded, but now he was smiling.
“Then perhaps you could stop lookin’ for this sister and allow me to pay you, generously, of course, for your services in, um, drawing up a deed of sale.”
A heavy silence fell, during which Emmeline, Sheriff Lipscomb and Lawyer Jason Meade stared at each other. Dr. Arnold looked genuinely puzzled.
In the lull, Alice stepped toward the door. “If you will excuse me, I will withdraw for a few minutes so you can talk over my proposal among yourselves. I have an appointment with the dressmaker down the street. She is expectin’ me at eight sharp this evenin’, and I see I am almost late.”
She knotted her red shawl about her shoulders and sashayed out the front door in a swish of satin and petticoats.
Hidden behind the curtain, Rand held his breath until he heard the door close and knew Alice had left the building. Then he settled in to wait for the sparks to fly.
It didn’t take long.
“Emmy,” the sheriff said in his gruff voice. “You can’t sell the business. And by God you know why.”
“You mean then you wouldn’t get your payments every month,” Emmeline snapped. “That’s why you don’t want me to sell, isn’t it, Jeremiah?”
“What payments?” Lawyer Meade and Dr. Arnold asked simultaneously.
“The ones she’s been makin’ ever since Jim Coleman was killed,” Sheriff Lipscomb answered.
“What? What’s he talking about?” Dr. Arnold queried.
“Jeremiah,” Emmeline shouted, “you shut your mouth!”
“Hold on just a minute,” Dr. Arnold said. “Jim Coleman was shot during a robbery here at the office. At least that’s what you told me, Sheriff.”
“Well...uh...yes I did, Harve. But it weren’t so much a robbery as a—”
“Jeremiah, shut your mouth!” Emmeline screeched.
“Oh, my God,” the doctor groaned. “Harve, you’ve been blackmailing Emmeline, haven’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” the sheriff said. “See, when Jim Coleman was shot it looked kinda suspicious, like maybe Emmeline had shot him. So when she offered to...uh...well, pay me to keep my mouth shu—”
“I didn’t offer, you wretch!” Emmeline shouted. “You said if I didn’t make it worth your while, you would arrest me for murder!”
Behind the curtain Rand began to smile. So, Miss Whittaker was blackmailing the sheriff to cover up killing Jim. And she had killed Jim Coleman because he had somehow figured out that she was embezzling funds from the assay business. The proof was right there in the account books.
He strained his ears to hear the continuing conversation.
“Emmeline!” Dr. Arnold said, his tone incredulous. “You mean that bullet I dug out of Jim Coleman’s chest came from your revolver? The one I’d given to Dorothy for protection?”
Emmeline said nothing.
“Good Lord,” the physician continued in a strangled voice. “You shot Jim?”
“Emmeline,” Lawyer Meade interjected. “Don’t say anything. You need a lawyer.”
Dr. Arnold pinned him with blazing eyes. “She doesn’t have to say anything, Jason. The bullet I took out of Jim Coleman matched the one I dug out of Dorothy’s back. A thirty-two-caliber bullet from a Remington revolver.”
A long silence fell.
“Emmeline,” Dr. Arnold said in a low voice, “do you own a revolver?”
“Certainly not!” she insisted.
But Rand knew different. Last night when he had “borrowed” the account books, he’d found the revolver hidden in a secret desk drawer. A thirty-two-caliber Remington revolver.
“You killed Dorothy, didn’t you?” the physician whispered. “Why? Why?”
“Because,” Emmeline said, “after Jim was dead you kept asking Dorothy to marry you. I figured she would, eventually, and then—”
“And then,” Lawyer Meade supplied, “the business, the building, everything would belong to Dorothy’s sister, this Alice Montgomery. And that would mean your source of funds would disappear. Isn’t that right, Emmeline?”
Rand jerked. Lawyer Jason Meade was taking money from Emmeline to keep him from contacting Dorothy’s sister about the will.
“You knew what I was doing, Jason,” Emmeline snapped. “You knew all along.”
“But Emmeline,” the lawyer said, “I never dreamed... I just thought you were paying me a bit extra not to find Dorothy’s sister. But you...you actually killed her!”
“You shot Dorothy to keep her from marrying me?” the doctor asked, his voice breaking.
Rand closed his eyes. Emmeline Whittaker had killed Jim Coleman, and then with her brazenly stolen funds from the Coleman’s Assay Office she had blackmailed the sheriff. And, to keep her source of cash from drying up, Emmeline had murdered Dorothy.
He couldn’t wait to get Alice out of this hellhole!
He drew his Colt and stepped out from his hiding place.
“Emmeline Whittaker, you are under arrest for the murders of Jim Coleman and Dorothy Coleman.”
Emmeline stared at him, her face pasty.
Rand gestured for Sheriff Lipscomb and Lawyer Meade to raise their hands. “Conspiracy and embezzling are also crimes, gentlemen.”
Dumbstruck, Dr. Arnold looked from Sheriff Lipscomb to Lawyer Meade and shook his head.
Rand snapped handcuffs on the wrists of the two men and grasped Emmeline’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Rand locked the three prisoners in adjoining jail cells himself, then wired the US Marshal in Boise City. The following morning he ushered them all aboard the northbound train, and later that day he delivered three prisoners to the sheriff in Owyhee County.
Chapter Fourteen
Alice slept late at the Excelsior Hotel, ate a leisurely breakfast of fried eggs and bacon, and spent the day at the railroad station, waiting for Rand to return. When the southbound locomotive steamed into the depot she rose from the bench, shook out her split riding skirt and waited.
Rand stepped off the train and without saying a word scooped her up into his arms and swung her around and around in a circle. “Pinkerton send their thanks,” he said at last. “They want you to know you did them a great service.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “I can hardly believe it’s over.”
“And I want you to know that librarians are now my favorite people.”
“Not actresses?” she said.
“It’s a toss-up,” he said with a laugh.
“I have news,” she said. Rand stiffened and set her feet on the ground.
“Yeah, what news?”
“Dr. Harvey Arnold offered to buy my lunch today.”
Rand sent her a long, searching look. “Ah. And what did you say?”
“I told him I wasn’t hungry.”
He chuckled. “Are you ready to leave Silver City?”
“I am ready with a capital R! I want to go home. I packed all my things, and I took the liberty of loading your saddlebag, as well. I can’t wait to leave!”
“What about the assay office? You’re the legal owner now.”
“I sold it,” she said quietly. “To Dr. Arnold.”
Rand stared at her. “Alice, you are an endless source of surprise. That I would never have expected.”
“And you will never guess how I plan to use the money!”
“For a new red dress?” he joked.
She shook her head.
“How about a fancy parasol and a horse and carriage for the trip back to Smoke River?”
“No. I said you would never guess.”
“Try me,” he said in a weary voice.
“I’m
going to buy books! Lots and lots of books. For the Smoke River library.”
He laughed aloud. “Books on acting, maybe?”
She snatched off her wide-brimmed felt hat and swatted him with it.
“Come on, Alice, let’s go home.”
Rand saddled their horses and loaded up the saddlebags, and within half an hour they were riding out of Silver City. He was relieved to be on the trail again. He could not have stood one more night sleeping close enough to Alice to touch her but not touching her. He didn’t know how she felt about it, and he didn’t want to risk asking her. He already cared more about her than he wanted to.
They rode all day, until the sun finally sank behind the pine-covered hills in the west. Alice was unusually quiet. Even when a startled doe and her fawn clattered across the trail in front of them, she merely reined her horse to a stop and sat waiting until the rustling in the underbrush stopped.
Later, when he cobbled together a supper of canned beans and bacon, she took the plate he handed her, set it on the ground beside her and laid her fork on top. Then she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against her bent knees.
Instantly Rand realized something was wrong.
“Alice. Alice, don’t cry. It’s over now. We caught your sister’s killer and it’s all over.”
She made no answer. He moved her plate out of the way and knelt beside her. “Alice, what’s wrong?”
She lifted her head and swiped one hand across her wet cheeks, then swiped it again, but the tears kept spilling down her face.
He touched her shoulder and pulled her into his arms. Her body shook, and her tears turned to gut-wrenching sobs. He held her, rocking her gently to and fro, while she sobbed and he bit his lip and sweated. His chest hurt.
Finally she lifted her head, dug a handkerchief out of her shirt pocket and mopped at her eyes. Then she took a shaky breath, blew her nose and drew in a long, uneven breath of the smoky air.
Her face looked puffy, and her eyes were red and swollen. He felt like a horse had kicked him in the gut.
“I’m s-sorry, Rand. I guess it’s all catching up to me now. Before we left I went to visit her grave, and it made me realize Dottie is really, really g-gone, and I’m n-never going to see her again.”
Rand nuzzled her head under his chin and tightened his arms around her. A delayed reaction like this wasn’t unusual, but it was sure tearing him up inside. He held her until her breathing sounded normal and then he reached out one hand to pick up her supper plate.
“We’ve been riding all day, Alice. You should eat something.” He scooped up a tiny bite of beans and offered it.
Obediently she opened her mouth and he slid the fork past her lips. The next forkful he devoured himself, and then he began alternating, one bite for her and one for him. He broke up the bacon in small pieces and fed them to her the same way.
Something inside him began to ache. When it grew full dark and the fire burned down to coals, he wrapped her blankets around her and she tipped over onto the ground right where she sat.
Rand rinsed the tin plate off in the stream, filled the coffeepot and gathered an armload of deadfall for tomorrow morning’s campfire. Finally he rolled himself in his own blanket and stretched out next to her.
He stared at the dying coals, listening to the crickets, until his eyes burned. He thought about the woman sleeping next to him. Eight days ago he’d never laid eyes on Alice Montgomery. Tonight he felt like he’d known her all his life.
And then an unexpected thought slammed into his brain.
Alice is one woman in a million. I don’t ever want to be away from her.
* * *
Alice smelled coffee, and when she opened her eyes a steaming mug sat on a low, flat rock next to her. Rand was at the campfire, bent over a skillet of sizzling bacon. She sat up and reached for the mug.
“Good morning,” he said without turning around.
“Good morning, Rand. Thank you for the coffee. And for letting me cry it out yesterday.”
“No thanks necessary,” he said. “Losing someone you love is one of the worst things I can think of.”
She sipped her coffee in silence. “Have you ever lost anyone? Someone close to you, I mean?”
He didn’t answer.
“Rand?”
He turned away from the skillet and faced her, then turned back to the fire. “I lost my wife,” he said, his voice flat.
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rand.”
He shrugged, but he didn’t turn around. “That’s why I became a US Marshal.”
She waited. He forked over the bacon slices and spoke again, still with his back to her.
“I used to ride with the Texas Rangers,” he said, his voice flat. “Had a cattle ranch in Texas, down near the Black Chisos Mountains. One day I came back to the ranch to find my wife had been shot.”
“Oh, Rand.” Tears started at the back of her eyes.
“I tracked the killers into Arizona Territory, but I had to stop at the Mexican border because Rangers can’t operate outside the States. So I quit the Rangers and became a US Marshal.”
“Did—did you ever catch whoever did it?”
He lifted the skillet off the fire and forked three slices of bacon onto a tin plate. “I did. Caught them down near Nogales and brought him back to the Chisos and watched them hang.”
He dropped a biscuit onto the plate and handed it to her. “Now eat your breakfast.”
She could tell he didn’t want to talk anymore, so she obeyed, and within an hour they had mounted up and were back on the trail before the sun was barely touching the tops of the sugar pine trees.
All morning she rode with her hat tipped to one side to shield her eyes from the blinding rays, and two hours after their noon stop to water the horses she felt the first warning signs of one of her blind headaches. Her vision blurring, she gritted her teeth and closed her lids against the glare, letting her horse follow Rand on its own.
By evening she was in agony, her right temple pounding with each heartbeat. She slid off the chestnut, dug her blankets out of the saddlebag and lurched over to the fire pit Rand was building.
“Alice, what’s the matter?”
“Headache,” she said through stiff lips.
“Bad?”
“Yes.” She dropped her blankets on the ground and without bending over managed to kick them open. Very gingerly she lay down and closed her eyes. She could tell Rand was standing over her because she could smell his sweaty shirt.
“Alice.” He squatted beside her.
“It’s all right, Rand. I’ve had these headaches all my life. First I see strange flashes of light and then it just pounds, mostly on one side. Light hurts, so I keep my eyes shut.”
“Migraine,” he said. “My mother used to get them. I’ll make some coffee.”
She winced at the raucous noise the coffee grinder made, then heard the metal pot clank onto the rocks around the campfire. He set another pot down, too. It was full of water, she guessed, because after a short while she heard splashing and then he laid a warm, wet cloth over her closed eyes.
“My mother used to say this eased the pain,” he breathed. “And this.” With his forefinger he smeared something over her temples. It smelled like mint.
“What is that?” she muttered.
“Peppermint oil. My mother swore by it.” He removed the cooling cloth that was over her eyes and replaced it with a warm one.
When the coffee boiled he poured out a cup.
“Caffeine helps, too.” He sat down beside her and dribbled the liquid into her mouth one spoonful at a time.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“I’m gonna see to the horses and then make some supper. You just stay quiet.”
She laughed, then wished she hadn’t because it made her templ
es throb. “As if I could do anything but stay quiet,” she managed.
She heard him lift off the saddles, rub down the horses with something scratchy, probably dry grass, and turn them loose to graze. Then he lifted away the cooling cloth and dropped another warm one over her eyes.
He stirred up something for supper, something out of a can. Maybe tomatoes, she guessed from the sloppy sound.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered. She wondered if a “shady lady” like Lolly Maguire ever got headaches.
He sat beside her while he ate, and every so often he spooned another teaspoon of coffee into her mouth.
He kept changing the cloth over her eyes, dropping the cool one into the water pot with a soft plop and wringing out the warm one and laying it across her face. His fingers were gentle. Later she heard him walk off to the creek to wash his supper plate and she tried to sleep.
Finally he spread out his bedroll next to her; she could tell because his blanket brushed against her bare arm.
He smelled good. Like woodsmoke. It made her want to cry.
Chapter Fifteen
In the morning Alice was a bit groggy when she woke up. Her head felt as if it were stuffed full of cotton, but she managed to eat two biscuits and a slice of crisp bacon and drink two cups of coffee. Then she volunteered to wash the tin plates in the creek while Rand packed up the camp and kicked dirt over the fire.
“You must be feeling better if you could eat two of my overdone biscuits,” he quipped.
“My head feels like an eggshell, but other than that, I do feel better.” She sent him a smile. “I must remember to ask Carl Ness at the mercantile to order some of that peppermint oil. And I can hardly wait to tell Doc Graham about it.”
They mounted up and headed into the hills where the late-October leaves on the maple trees were turning scarlet and red-orange. Rand gestured for her to ride in front so she wouldn’t have to breathe his dust; besides, he wanted to keep an eye on her. She rode like an Indian, never wasting a motion, and he couldn’t help but wonder who had taught her to ride. Rooney Cloudman, maybe.
A Western Christmas Homecoming: Christmas Day Wedding Bells ; Snowbound in Big Springs ; Christmas with the Outlaw Page 8
