by Jo Noelle
She washed another in silence and put it into the rinse tub. As her elbow grazed against his, his attention came back to what he was doing, and he placed the plate on the stack of the others. When he reached for the next, Eliza slipped her hand in his under the water.
He held it for a moment, then said, “They were murdered, shot. What little they had was stolen. I returned home that night and found them.”
Eliza squeezed his hand, and he continued. “We had a funeral. There were no suspects. Maybe they were drifters. In one violent act, I had no family. I couldn’t live in that house. I didn’t see all the happy times—just their deaths. It was a time of decision for me. I wanted to be an agent and help someone if I could.”
Eliza leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for helping us.”
“Time we left for church,” Ellis said from behind them.
“We’re about done,” Eliza replied.
“You are now,” Ellis said as he left the room.
Worry over her family and neighbors consumed Eliza’s attention during the church service that Sunday. She felt that Mr. Anders must be involved. Why else had he been at Baldwin’s house? She stared at the bald spot on the back of his head. What was he up to? She supposed that there could be any number of reasons he’d been there. He could have been buying it. Or selling it. Or maybe he was wondering what was happening to the homesteaders like she was. The first two seemed plausible, but he was no philanthropist.
She pushed her hand into her pocket and felt the crinkled paper. Bad Egg Baldwin didn’t just disappear. Her gut felt sure of that.
At the end of the meeting, Eliza watched as Mr. Anders followed Reverend Theodore to the door. She waited until the men began their little ceremony of shaking hands before she stood—on the pew.
Ellis grabbed her hand. “What are you doing? Get down.”
“Friends and neighbors.” Her voice raised above the whispered conversations around her. “Some of you are homesteaders and others are merchants or workers here in Creede. I’m sure you’ve all heard about the trouble the homesteaders are having from here to Lake City.” Eliza saw Mr. Anders listening, his ear turned to her but his face turned away. His hand had stopped mid-shake.
“I went to Bad Egg Baldwin’s house and found this note in the fireplace. I don’t believe he moved.” Eliza pulled the soot-stained note from her skirt and began to read. “‘This is your last warning to sell. Leave this house alive or dead. You have one day to decide.’” Eliza waved the paper. “I don’t think he left town. He said he’d never sell his place. I think someone made good on this threat.”
Voices raised. “What can we do about it?” a man called from the back.
“I’m asking you to watch out for the homes along that road. If you drive there to take merchandise, supplies, or to go to the mines out that way, look around. See who’s there. Watch out for us. Report anything you see that looks out of place to Marshal Wheeler.”
The voices of the congregation increased while Mr. Anders left without looking back.
KC helped Eliza down. “We should go.”
The family went directly to their wagon and left town.
“Well, that’s going to stir some things up, don’t you think, Eliza?” Ellis asked. It didn’t seem like he was expecting an answer. “If we weren’t on a bullseye before, I’m certain we are now.”
Eliza wished—not for the first time in her life—that she were less impulsive. Maybe it would have been better to wait for her uncle and father to return.
As their wagon passed the first homestead, Eliza saw a small black donkey sitting on her haunches beside the road. Immediately, MayBelle jumped up, her muzzle pointed toward the Alpins’ house, and her tail stuck straight out like a hunting dog. “Is that your donkey, KC?” she asked, pointing toward her.
“Yeah. I’ll go get her and walk her home.” As soon KC got out of the back of the wagon, MayBelle ran to the other side of the road, straight for the house.
“I can get her,” Eliza said as she got out.
“Good luck,” Ellis called over his shoulder as he drove away.
Eliza reached for the reins. MayBelle ran again, zigzagging, her voice screeching and barking. One moment, she would kick up her hind legs and the next, she would rear and beat her front legs in the air. She trotted just out of reach from one side of the road to the other as KC and Eliza tried to get hold of her. Crazy donkey.
MayBelle was teasing them and loving it, standing still until they nearly caught her, then racing away again. She stopped behind the house. This time when KC approached, she brayed loudly, and KC was able to get his hand on one of the reins. MayBelle ran, and KC turned circles to keep from being tied up. Eliza came up on the other side but stepped into the path and ended up bound to KC.
“We might be tied, but you’re caught too, pretty girl.” Eliza laughed.
KC reached for Eliza to keep himself from toppling over. “I didn’t plan this, but that’s one smart donkey.” He turned toward MayBelle. “Thank you, little gal.”
Eliza liked his smile and the small laugh lines at the corner of his eyes. He was especially handsome with the twinkle that lit his gray eyes.
A man charged out the back door and lifted a rifle at them.
“Whoa,” KC said, lifting his hands in front of him. “My donkey got away, and I’m just fetching her back. If she damaged anything, I’d be glad to pay you for it.”
MayBelle snorted and pranced in place between KC and the end of the gun.
“Settle down. That’s a girl. You’ve been quite enough trouble today.” Eliza stroked MayBelle’s forelock. “I’m sorry, Mr. Alpin. I’m your neighbor. We moved in after you’d already left. Glad to meet you.”
“Humph,” the man grumbled.
MayBelle kicked up her hind legs.
“We best get her home?” KC’s voice sounded like a question. No one moved as Mr. Alpin’s rifle stayed trained on them.
“Eliza!” Mr. Fillan yelled, his wagon pulled over at the side of the road. “Can I give you a ride home?”
KC answered, “We’d appreciate your help. Our donkey’s being a little stubborn.”
Mr. Alpin dropped the end of his rifle toward the ground. “Keep your animal away from here. I don’t like company.”
“Sorry to bother you. It won’t happen again.” KC untangled the reins, and they led the animal to the Fillans’ wagon, tying her to the back.
On the ride home, KC and Eliza leaned together. “The man back there at the house—”
“You mean Mr. Alpin?”
“I’m certain he isn’t Mr. Alpin.”
“It must be. He’s owned that house for at least ten years, and that’s one that hasn’t been sold off.”
KC looked expectantly at Eliza.
Very slowly, she said, “That man isn’t old enough to have homesteaded ten years ago. He would have had to be twenty-one back then, and he looks barely over that now.”
“Yeah.” KC’s voice lowered. “That’s the man who shot at me when we went to see the new properties.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I saw him in the spyglass. I’m pretty sure he was thinking about shooting me again when Mr. Fillan drove up. I’m hoping he doesn’t think I recognized him.”
“You didn’t seem to. You’re a very good actor.”
“This puts your family at risk. If he’s messed up in the homesteading troubles, which I’m certain he is, he might want to rid himself of any possible witnesses.” KC hung his head. “You need to stay out of this now. Let me handle it.” His voice sounded pleading. He turned and looked at her then with sadness in his gaze. “This is why Pinkerton agents don’t have attachments—it’s so no one else gets hurt.”
Eliza’s heart shriveled—no attachments. She thought she was more than that. Did he regret the roots he was putting down? Did he regret her?
“I’m so sorry, Eliza.”
She swallowed deeply but couldn’t think of the words to say o
r the questions to ask. She just looked away from him to watch the side of the road. Even if the expectations she’d begun to build were over, this battle wasn’t. They’re my family, and I’ll do what needs doing.
When they got to the house, they both jumped out of the wagon bed. Eliza turned her back on him but spoke over her shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about attachments, Mr. Murray.”
KC took the donkey to the barn, and Eliza went to the house to get a meal on. It was simple food on Sunday. The beef stew had cooked while they drove to meeting and back. KC didn’t come in to eat, and Eliza was glad of it except for a part of her heart that felt dark and dry.
As she was cleaning up after dinner, Kailin ran through the kitchen door with Rayna on her back. “They’re here. Come on. Ma and Pa are here!”
Eliza dropped the pan back into the wash tub and dried her hands on her apron as she followed her little sister out the front door. Her parents were hugging Ellis when the girls threw their arms around the group. She felt relief that they were home safe. Her mother pulled each of their faces to her for kisses.
When they released each other, Eliza noticed that Uncle Morris was still in the carriage while Michael walked around to his side. Her little cousin had grown a couple of feet and was the size of a bear. His sisters had changed a great deal in the eight years since they’d seen each other. That would make Michael twenty-three, Donella and Diane twenty-one in a couple of months since they were just younger than her, and Polly and Pam were eighteen.
“Welcome!” Eliza called out to her cousins, and the hugging started again. “I’ll bet you’re tired. I’ll put some water on to heat. Come in.”
They began walking to the house, and Eliza’s mother started giving orders. “Uncle Morris will use the washroom off the kitchen as a bedroom. Ellis, move your bed in there for him. Eliza and Kailin, help the girls get settled in Ellis’s room. Get the extra quilts down and make pallets for them. Michael and Ellis, you’ll bunk in the barn. Mr. Murray already has the loft, so make yourself a place down by the stalls.”
It took an hour to get everyone somewhat settled. Eliza could feel a weight removed from her shoulders. Her ma was back, and Eliza could just be herself again.
The family went to bed early, tired out from their travels. Eliza sat in the front room. KC came in and nodded toward her. “This is for your father.” He placed a letter on the table and left.
11
KC Murray
For the hundredth time, KC regretted letting Eliza think he was getting out of her life. He didn’t know any other way to protect her. Being around him was deadly. This scheme had just gotten a whole lot deeper now that he knew the last two Holman boys were involved. Would she understand later? She might not give him the chance to explain. If Holman had shot him last Sunday, he’d have shot Eliza just for being near him. If it meant losing her to protect her, he’d do it.
KC sat in the woods, watching the Turley homes, which were close together but across property lines. He’d left a letter for Mr. Turley explaining about himself and that he needed to do some investigating on this case. He recommended that they post regular watches. He’d also stated that he’d appreciate meeting with Mr. Turley on a private matter.
He ran through the puzzle pieces he had. Anders was buying specific land between Creede and Lake City. Little Archie was part of this. There might be fraud involved in the claims on the homesteads that were originally filed in their names. There were possibly two dead homesteaders—Alpin and Baldwin. The Holman boys were involved. The cave that KC now owned was of interest to the Holman boys. There were three homesteads near Creede and one closer to Lake City that Anders hadn’t purchased yet.
It was time to make a visit to the telegraph office again. He hoped Arthur Jameson had the clue that would help him bring this together. He nudged his horse and turned toward Creede. When he got there, the office was closed for lunch. He’d come back in a couple of minutes. He had intended to stay put and wait until he saw the Holman boys walk into The Nugget Saloon. In a second, KC was on his feet following them into the saloon. Then he chose a seat at the bar near where the men sat.
“You new around here?” asked the man on the stool to his right.
“Yeah, new homesteader.” KC ordered a drink. The conversations around the room were loud.
“Where abouts?” the man to his left asked.
This time, KC was facing the direction of the Holman brothers. “I’ll be homesteading southwest of town. Out past the Turley place.”
“Cattle or sheep?” the first asked.
“Cattle mostly, but it seems that there’s a good amount of mining around these parts. I might try my hand at that, too.” KC wasn’t sure, but it looked like one of the brothers about choked on his ale. Their heads went together as one whispered to the other. KC thought it was a good time to leave.
Arthur, with the mailbag under one arm, was just unlocking the door to the telegraph office when KC arrived.
“You mind if you lock up for a moment longer so we can talk, Arthur?” KC asked. “This might be something that no one else in this town should overhear by accident.”
Arthur waved him inside, but before he could relock the door, Marshal Wheeler pushed into the building as well. Arthur looked at KC, who nodded that it was all right.
“I see you got my letter,” KC said to the marshal.
“Yes, sir, and I’d like to know what you know.”
“I was just getting to that with Arthur. I’m glad you’re here.”
“You have my attention, Mr. Murray. Is there something I can help you with?” Arthur asked.
“Yes. Well, I hope you will.” The wooden floorboards creaked as KC walked to the counter.
Arthur walked around the counter and pushed the mailbag beneath it. “I expect it’s a professional matter since if you say ‘I can,’ but you wonder if ‘I will.’”
KC hoped he wasn’t asking the man to compromise his morals, but he might be. “I haven’t told the community why I’m here.” He nodded toward Wheeler. “The marshal knows. I guess it’s time you do too.” He launched into his history with the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. “I’m here unofficially investigating the homesteaders who have gone missing or who’ve moved on suddenly.”
“And you think there might be something illegal going on.” Arthur looked from Marshal Wheeler to KC.
KC nodded. “And I think you may have the last clue I need.” He moved to the counter used for the telegraph portion of the office. “I was here the other day. You were busy with other customers—Anders and Grady. When you helped me, you took my mail over there, and while your back was turned, I read a note in your trash. I think it’s an important clue.”
“If you already read it, what do you need from me?”
KC thought the man looked cooperative but skeptical. “I only saw a part of it. The top of the note was hidden. I need to know who the note was sent to.”
Arthur stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. “I see.” He shook his head slowly. “If you can’t trust the telegraph operator to hold confidentiality for the messages sent, that man shouldn’t be trusted with the position. You’re asking me to do something I just shouldn’t. How do I know you’re legitimate?”
Marshal Wheeler had stayed by the door, but now approached the men and spoke up. “I sent a telegraph from Topaz to check up on him with the Sheriff in Del Norte and with Pinkertons. He is who he says he is. Let’s say this is on my order, Arthur.”
“Lots more people will die if this case isn’t solved, and soon. And some of them could be people I care about deeply,” KC added and pulled his notebook out of his shirt pocket, opening it to the page where he’d drawn a map of the homesteads and their locations along the road to Lake City.
Before KC had a chance to tell Arthur about the notes, the man’s hand rubbed across his forehead. “I can see why you need to know.” Arthur opened the leger and set it on the counter, pointing to a line. “There’s someon
e with big money involved with Anders. He’s sent and received several messages to and from them—all cryptic. The latest said he was over the time allotted, and they wanted it completed this week.”
KC blew out a strong breath. “That’s what I needed to know. Sorry, and thank you, Arthur. You mind if I go out the back?”
“I’d rather you did.” Arthur pointed over his shoulder.
“You and I have some other things to talk about when we get his solved, Mr. Murray,” the marshal said. “I hear you’re planning to stay in Creede.”
“I got a homestead south of the Turley place. I’ll be around.” KC reached the back door and stopped. “I’d like to send a telegram to those same people. ‘New Creede homesteader. Want to sell. Make offer.’” He put his hand on the doorknob. “If they return the message, send it to the Turleys’ home in a bag of beans on the mercantile delivery wagon. Send along anything else you think is important that might come up. I’ll be there in a couple of days.” KC cracked the door open, looked around, and slipped out.
12
Eliza Turley
KC had left two days ago. Eliza missed him terribly although at the time, she had thought he was rejecting her. But as she mulled it over for the better part of two nights, she decided that he had said he was sorry for putting her in danger. It even sounded like a reasonable and romantic thing to do. She was sure his heart was hers. She just had to have faith.
She considered all the pieces of the puzzle that she knew. There were at least two homesteaders unaccounted for. The man impersonating one of them had shot at KC. He even lived in Alpin’s house and didn’t correct her when she’d called him by that name.
Eliza was glad to have her family all together again. Uncle Morris’s oldest child, Michael, ended out going to her Uncle Ted’s house to help post a watch over there.
As the family gathered after the evening meal, someone knocked on the door. Ellis opened it after their pa trained a gun on it just in case.
