“A member of the committee?”
“I don’t know. His name is Frederick Marlowe. Came into town about the time Luke and I went to Denver, and bought a big house in a prominent area. I haven’t been able to learn much about him.”
“I can contact headquarters to see if they can learn anything about Marlowe. It could take a while, but it’s worth a try. When is the next committee meeting?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Dutch pulled the wanted poster out and handed it to Tom. “Have you ever heard of this man?”
Tom glanced at the name and studied the image, then shook his head. “Parnell Drake. Says he’s wanted for murder. Where’d you get this?”
“Gus Salter. A man named Cash Coulter is tracking Drake. He came by Salter’s place a day or two after Bob Bray’s death. Two of the men Drake rides with were arrested the same night, part of the outfit buying the cattle from Bray and then moving the herd out of the area. Drake wasn’t with them. Both men refuse to talk, but this Coulter fella is certain he’s the leader of the gang buying the cattle from Bray.”
“The poster says Drake is wanted for murder.” Tom’s brows knit in question.
“Coulter told Salter he’s wanted for the murder of a family in Louisiana and is suspected of other killings.”
“Why’d he give this to you?” Tom asked.
“Salter wants us to be aware of Drake since he’s implicated in the thefts at his ranch. He has this notion Drake may have blackmailed Bray into stealing the cattle.”
“Making excuses for Bray’s actions?”
“It’s more as if he’s trying to come to terms with his friend’s death. Who knows? Maybe he’s right and Drake was blackmailing Bray. Regardless, Coulter told him Drake worked for a ranch in Splendor last spring. He disappeared with two others when there was evidence he’d tried to kill some men at a neighboring ranch. Any guess who he worked for?” Dutch asked.
“Who?”
“King Tolbert. And the neighboring ranch is owned by Luke and Dax Pelletier.”
“Shit,” Tom mumbled.
“Nothing we can do now, except be aware of Drake and his connection to both Tolbert and the Pelletiers.”
Tom tossed money on the table before they left. “It’s a strange business we’re in,” he said as they headed toward the sheriff’s office.
“That it is, Tom.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Splendor, Montana
“How does it look?” Ginny asked, stepping away from the pine wreath she’d rested against the back of a chair.
“It’s beautiful. Did your mother teach you how to make them?” Rachel stood back, admiring the wreath adorned with dried berries, nuts, and ribbons. Two more lay on the floor—one for their door and one for the bunkhouse.
“Mother loved making Christmas ornaments. She’d work on them all year, along with a neighbor who came to America from Germany. She taught Mother what she knew and encouraged her to try new decorations. For many nights before Christmas Eve, Mother would read a poem her family had sent her years before from their home in New York. The Night Before Christmas. Mary loves the poem. I don’t have a copy, although I do remember much of it.”
“My mother used to read it to me, too. It’s wonderful.”
The door flew open, letting a dusting of snow into the entry as Luke and Dax carried in armloads of wood.
“I’ll leave mine in here.” Dax placed his by the fireplace in the living room.
Luke continued into the kitchen, noting the smell of spice coming from the oven. He dropped the wood, stacked it next to the stove, then grabbed a towel Ginny used to open the oven door and peeked inside.
“Close that right now.” Ginny walked up beside him, pushed the oven door closed and glared up at him. “They’re not ready. Besides, they’re for after supper tonight.”
“They smell wonderful. What are they?”
“My mother called them jumbles. She used to make them for Christmas.” She grabbed the towel from his hand, noting he hadn’t moved. “Don’t you have to help Dax with something?”
He watched the expression on her face change from irritation to amusement to frustration within seconds. Luke knew his efforts to distance himself from her since Dax saw them in the kitchen confused her. Hell, the conflicting emotions he felt for Ginny confused him.
He’d stayed for supper several evenings and they’d spoken a few times, but neither mentioned what happened between them. Luke had no desire to sort through and bare the internal conflict her touch created. Even if he could form the words to explain what he saw as his future, she wouldn’t understand. Most important, he had no desire to hurt her.
There’d be hell to pay if he didn’t figure the best way to handle her presence at the ranch. The same intense desire assaulted him each time he saw her, and it took all his willpower to do what he’d promised Dax—What you saw won’t happen again. He surely hoped he could keep his vow because his feelings for her hadn’t faded. No matter what he told himself, each day brought more doubt about what he thought to be his future.
“I want you to tell me what possessed you to accept an invitation from Mr. Brandt.” King Tolbert’s temper had simmered since learning of the meal Abby and Noah shared at the boardinghouse a few days before. “You won’t accept any of the men I’ve put before you, yet you’ll spend time with someone as common as the local blacksmith. I won’t have it, Abby.” He paced back and forth across the room, glaring at her between steps.
Abby sat with her back erect, hands in her lap, chin lifted in a defiant pose. “Why not? You’ve told me what a fine man Mr. Brandt is and how you admire what he did at the Frey ranch.”
“Killing men who threatened to murder others has nothing to do with a public display such as the one you put on with him.”
“We simply took a meal in the middle of the day at Suzanne’s. There certainly was no ‘public display’, as you suggest.”
“Anyone could have seen you, assuming he had my blessing to court you—which he does not. He is no match for you and I won’t have the town think he is.”
“Who in Splendor would care? This isn’t Big Pine, Father. It’s a small town with good people who like Noah.” Every impulse pushed at her to rise and walk over to her father. She ignored them, knowing he needed to work through his anger. “He’s a good man, Father.”
“I’m not questioning whether or not he’s honorable. What I’m saying is you are not to spend any more time with him.”
“You’re forbidding me from seeing him?” Her voice rose along with her temper.
He stopped his pacing to turn toward her. “I am. I will not have you leading him on, thinking he has a chance when you and I both know he doesn’t.”
“I know no such thing.” She jumped up from her chair, her eyes burning with the fury she felt at her father’s ultimatum.
“What are you saying?” His voice took on a calm, which didn’t bode well for their discussion. She knew what to expect when he vented his anger openly.
“I’m saying I don’t understand why he shouldn’t have as much chance with me as any man.”
“Because the man isn’t good enough for you, Abigail. He’s a blacksmith. A foot soldier who fought in the war—”
“An ex-major, Father. He was an officer.”
“A sharpshooter. He killed people on command and ordered others to do the same.” He turned his back to her as he walked around his desk, trying to understand how his daughter could be attracted to a man with no money and a grim future.
“It was his duty.” She walked up to stand on the other side of his desk, resting her hands on the top. “Would you feel differently if he’d been in the cavalry or infantry?”
King knew he wouldn’t. No matter his role in the Union Army, the man’s status did not compare to his or Abigail’s and never would.
“You are not to see him again. There will be consequences if you defy me on this, and they will not be pleasant.”
“
What? Do you plan to beat me?” The strength of her anger and the fact she’d chosen to stand up to him surprised Abby. She took a step back and clenched her hands at her sides.
A pained expression crossed his face. “Do you truly believe I’d beat you?” His words were soft and controlled, as if the idea hurt to even think about.
“No, I don’t,” she breathed out.
He lowered himself into his chair and leveled his gaze at her. “All I want is what’s best for you. Being associated with Mr. Brandt is unacceptable, and I’ll do whatever is required to make certain his attentions are not directed at you.”
“You don’t plan to speak with him, do you?” Abby didn’t want to involve Noah in the dispute she had with her father.
“Not if you agree to stay away from him.”
“I refuse to ignore him or be rude, Father.”
King thought on his, knowing it would be impossible for his daughter to be discourteous to anyone. “You’ll do nothing to have others believe he is courting you. Understood?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good.”
Abby swallowed, feeling as if she’d won a small, yet significant victory.
“And, Abby. The consequences I mentioned… Don’t think I won’t make good on them.”
She nodded, knowing she’d have to take particular care to be discreet. He believed her to still be a child, in need of his constant guidance. She wasn’t. Abby knew her heart, and she wanted Noah Brandt. She’d let nothing stop her—not even her father’s threats.
As Luke and Dax rode off, Ginny hung the last wreath on the front door and finished the strands of nuts, dried berries, and popped corn she’d made. The men stayed as long as they could, bringing in armloads of wood and doing what they could in preparation for Christmas. She wanted to speak to Luke, try to figure out how he felt about what happened between them, yet embarrassment and fear stopped her. Embarrassment at being caught by Dax and knowing he’d told Rachel, and fear of how Luke would respond.
She’d felt her world explode when his body aligned with hers, pulling her close. She hadn’t wanted him to stop creating the intense emotions which overtook her at the touch of his lips on hers, his arms encircling her back. It had been nothing like her mother had said. She’d made it sound as if nothing wonderful came from physical contact with a man. In fact, she’d implied how unpleasant the experience would be. Ginny felt otherwise, admitting she didn’t know what came next. Perhaps that was what her mother tried to warn her about.
The startling sensations had stayed with her all day and into the night. They’d plagued her as she lay in bed, keeping her from sleep as she replayed everything in her mind. She’d hoped he’d pull her aside, explain his feelings. He hadn’t. Now he acted as if nothing extraordinary had occurred, making her even more unsure of herself and her future at the ranch.
“It all looks beautiful, Ginny,” Rachel said, using a broom to brush up the loose pine needles.
“Let me do that.” Ginny reached for the broom, dropping her hand when Rachel pulled it from her reach.
“You have other chores waiting. Besides, I need to keep busy. It’s six months before Uncle Charles believes the baby will come, and I won’t sit around doing nothing.”
“I do need to milk again and start supper. Would you mind gathering the eggs?”
“Not at all. Where’s Mary?” Rachel asked.
“She dashed outside a while ago, headed for the chicken coop. I believe she’s trying to catch the boy hovering about.”
“Odd no one has seen him. Dax and Luke think their plan to force the thieves to come to our ranch will succeed. It just may take a few days or weeks. It all depends on how much they’ve stored up from their other raids.”
“Do you believe it’s Indians?”
“I do. Given the arrowheads and lack of tracks, nothing else makes sense. Regardless of who it is, Dax and Luke will help them. They just want the thieving stopped.”
They slipped on their heavy coats. The wind had picked up along with the snowfall, whipping snow against their faces.
“I should probably find Mary before starting with the cows.”
“I’ll look for her. You go ahead and get finished before the storm becomes any stronger.” Rachel walked toward the henhouse, a basket slung over an arm, and watched for Mary. As suspected, she found her huddled in a corner, keeping an eye on the chickens, as well as the door. “Any sign of the boy?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Don’t lose hope. I expect he’ll come back once he’s eaten the eggs he’s already taken. Besides, who has better eggs than us?” She checked each spot, filling her basket.
“Nobody.”
“That’s right.”
“Where’s Ginny?”
“Milking the cows. Would you like to go help her?”
Mary jumped from her hiding place and pushed open the door. “Come on, Miss Rachel. You can help, too.”
“Stand still you miserable cow,” Ginny grumbled, as the two walked into the barn. The wind howled, causing the skittish animal to shift, almost tipping her off the stool at one point.
“Are you finished?” Mary shifted from one foot to the other as Ginny released the last cow and picked up a bucket.
“I am. Can you carry the other bucket, Mary?”
Mary used both hands to lift the half-full container. She made it to the first step, set the bucket down, then lifted it to the next step, until Rachel opened the door to let them inside.
“Can I go watch for the boy, Ginny?”
“You can watch from the study. The storm is getting bad and I want you in the house.”
Ginny washed her hands, brushing stray hair from her forehead, and looked out the back window. The storm had increased since they began the chores outside. From the looks of it, this storm threatened to be significant.
“I believe I’ll lie down for a while.” Rachel trudged up the stairs, leaving Ginny alone to her own thoughts.
She fought with herself over the decision she felt needed to be made. She wanted to help Rachel as much as she could during her pregnancy. She just didn’t know how long she’d be able to stay at the ranch, working around Luke and feeling constantly vulnerable to her emotions. She hadn’t expected anything more to happen between them. He’d made it clear the encounter at the boardinghouse wouldn’t happen again, yet it had.
She now accepted her feelings for Luke, even as she knew the future depended on her ability to take care of Mary, a responsibility few, if any, men would want to take on. The fact Luke had said little to her the last few days, never mentioning what had happened, was a stark reminder of how little it meant to him. She had no idea how she’d do it, but she had to find a way to accept it as nothing more than a brief display of affection. Perhaps her mother had been right when she told her men didn’t fall in love. Instead, they found someone who’d be a partner, and Luke certainly didn’t need a female partner.
She sliced potatoes while letting her thoughts dance between Luke and what she saw as her future. Or rather, what she’d need to do to secure her future. It was far from settled. She still must speak with the person who could permit or stop her plans. Her hands dampened at the prospect of the discussion ahead. She reassured herself it would be the right decision by imagining her life with Mary in their own house, secure in a life which couldn’t be taken away.
“Looks as if you might be staying a few nights.”
Luke tossed his saddlebags on the floor of the barn and unsaddled Prince. “Hank swears this will be a major storm. After our decision about the thieves, I figured I might as well stay here a while, see what happens.”
Dax narrowed his gaze at Luke, wondering if he meant the weather, the thieves, or Ginny. He’d seen how Luke’s eyes rarely left her, following her as she served the meals, yet saying little. He’d watched her expectant look change to resignation as the days wore on and Luke kept his distance. At least he’d kept his word to Dax.
�
��This storm may keep the thieves away.”
“If they have enough food to last through it.” Luke closed the stall where Prince fed on hay. He saw no sense in staying at his place when Dax needed the help. Even with the extra men they’d taken on, there never seemed to be enough time in the day to get all the chores done. Come spring, they’d be busy with repairs, expanding the herd, and if all went well, adding another two hundred acres to the south—land the Frey brothers had offered them at a good price.
“Have you heard any more from Pinkerton or Dutch?” Dax hoped Luke would turn down the next assignment. He’d never intended to shoulder the burden of the ranch on his own. Although he understood his brother’s determination to combine his role at the ranch with the Pinkerton assignments, Dax didn’t believe it could last much longer. They’d need to have a talk after Christmas, figure out what would work for both of them, especially with the knowledge there’d be another Pelletier coming into the world.
“Tom sent a message about Dutch arriving in Big Pine. He doubts they’ll get approval for a third agent, so it appears nothing will be coming soon. You may be stuck with me for a while.”
“I have no problem with that.”
They stomped their snow-encrusted boots on the back step, slipping them off, and hanging their coats in the mudroom they’d built a few months before. Luke had come to expect the inviting aroma of Ginny’s cooking. Although he admired her, he’d never thought her capable of handling the growing amount of work around the ranch with cooking, cleaning, milking, and other chores. He’d been wrong.
“Smells good, Ginny,” Dax called as they cleaned up.
Luke noted the jumbles she’d baked earlier sitting on a counter and snapped one up before Ginny caught him. He tossed another to Dax, who caught it and took a bite just as the two women walked into the kitchen.
“Luke Pelletier,” Ginny scolded. “I told you those were for after supper.”
Wildfire Creek Page 21
