Joe nodded. “So after workin’ here for nigh on to three years, you’re quittin’.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
Joe’s expression hardened. “Stop by in the mornin’ and draw your pay. And tell the other men if anyone wants to leave, they can do the same.”
Alex stepped back from the door as Tim hurried away. She crossed her arms and glared at the closed door and then swung around toward Joe. “I know as much about running this ranch as Papa did.”
Joe patted her shoulder. “I know, honey.” He glanced at Martha and she gave a sparse nod. “Gus quit today, too.”
“Gus? But why? He’s been with us as long as Tim.”
“I heard him talkin’ to Tim about you bein’ in charge when I walked up behind him. We had words and he up an’ quit. Gus and Tim are old pards.”
Alex leaned against the doorjamb and groaned. “Great. Two hands gone in one day. That makes it tough, since Frank’s so new. What if some of the others leave? I’m surprised Davis hasn’t, seeing how he’s a buddy of Tim and Gus.”
Joe leaned on his cane and shook his head. “Guess you’ll have to take the reins and prove you can do the job. You’ve been ridin’ and breakin’ horses since you were little. Some of the men might not want to work for a woman, but a few will give you a chance. I’ll help all I can, but this hip won’t let me do as much as I’d like.”
Martha wrapped her arm around Alex’s shoulder and squeezed. “You can do it, Alexia, but you need to trust God. He’s the one in charge, not you.”
Alex drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know, but it’s my responsibility, not His. The men won’t see God giving the orders; they’ll see me. It’s not like I can turn it over to Him and sit back.”
Martha reached out a gnarled hand and stroked Alex’s hair, running her fingers through the tangles teased by the wind. “No. You shouldn’t sit back, but you do need to trust Him. There’s a difference, and it’s one you’ll have to figure out if this ranch is to succeed—and if you’re to have peace.”
“I know, but I’m not sure how to get from where I am to what you’re suggesting. It sounds easy to trust God, but it’s hard when the person you always leaned on is suddenly gone.” She ducked her head and whispered to herself in a low voice, “And God’s the one who took him.”
Joe cleared his throat and tapped his cane on the floor. “Reckon I’ll go sit for a spell, if you ladies don’t need me?”
Alex gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you both. I’d better check Papa’s office and see if I can find any sign of that gold.” She walked out of the roomy kitchen and across the small foyer into her father’s pine-paneled office to the left of the front door. She paused and drew a deep breath, taking in the sparse masculine aspects of the room and inhaling the scent of his leather chaps still hanging on a hook nearby.
This had been his sanctuary and work space, all in one. It was the place where the young Alex had run for comfort with her bumps and bruises or when her heart was sore from the teasing at school. Papa had always made time for her, always put aside his work and taken her on his lap.
The large oak rolltop desk sat under the window overlooking the front yard. Alex squatted down and raised the hinged section, which was inset into the wooden floor next to the desk. The lid of a safe lay beneath the surface. She spun the dial one direction, then rotated it back the other, repeating the process again. She grasped the handle, pulled up the lid, and reached into the vault. A few envelopes and a small number of bills. She set them aside and then thrust her hand back into the dark hole. Empty.
“Find anything, hon?” Martha’s worried voice coming from the foyer preceded her into the room.
Alex stood and placed her hand on her hip. “Not yet, but I haven’t checked the desk, the bookshelves, or the closet.” Alex rolled up the top of the desk and rummaged in each cubbyhole then directed her search to the drawers beneath.
Martha bustled over to the closet and threw the door open wide. Guns, ammunition, old hats, coats, and boots stood in a jumble. “I’ll help. Your father never let me organize this mess, so it might take awhile to wade through it.”
They worked in silence for the next thirty minutes. The search yielded childhood drawings of hers, which Papa had kept, and storybooks they’d shared—items that brought a sting to her eyes. Alex squashed her emotions and kept searching.
Finally, she sank back into her father’s swivel chair. “I can’t imagine anywhere else he’d have kept ore samples or a bag of gold, but they don’t seem to be here.”
Martha’s forehead furrowed and she shook her head, worry clouding her normally calm face. “Maybe he took it to the bank?”
“No. Mr. Elton didn’t see him again. Rob said Papa sent a wire to the seller saying he’d pay for the horses later.”
“You don’t suppose…” Martha stopped.
Alex tipped her head to the side and thought for a moment. “That maybe someone discovered the gold after he fell from his horse? I’ve been wondering the same.”
“But Doc said he hadn’t been dead long when John Sellers found him.”
“I know. Besides, I can’t imagine anyone robbing Papa and leaving him. Not in our little community. Most of the miners stay at their claims, but if one found him, they’d have stayed till help came.”
Martha nodded and sighed. “We may never know. Send a wire to that breeder and see if your father paid him. And if not, try to stop those horses from shipping.”
Alex groaned. “It never occurred to me they might still be coming. I’m headed to town first thing in the morning. I’ll get a wire off, check with the assay office, and maybe stop to see Parson Moser or Elizabeth. I wouldn’t mind getting someone else’s opinion.”
“Good idea, dear. You could use a friend right now.”
Alex hugged the older woman and held her close for a moment. “I love you. Have I told you that lately?”
Martha patted her shoulder and smiled. “I think you have, dearie, but I do enjoy hearing it. You be careful. One accident in our family this year is enough.”
Chapter Four
Alex rode Banner, her Morgan-Mustang cross, into Last Chance and pulled him to a stop at the fir-sided telegraph building. She swung down and shook out her split skirt, then tossed the buckskin’s reins over the hitching rail and stepped into the small office for the second time in as many days.
Rob raised his head and a confused look clouded his face. “Miss Travers?”
Alex leaned her palms on the table and smiled. “Sorry to keep bothering you, Rob. I need to send a wire. Do you still have the address for that breeder my father contracted with?”
“Sure do. I keep all those important records.” His narrow chest swelled with pride. “I’m a government employee, you know, and I do my job right.”
“I’m sure you do it wonderfully.” She smiled at the beaming man. “I’d like to send a wire to that same address. Would you copy it for me?”
“Certainly, Miss Travers.” He reached for a pad and pencil, adjusted his eyeglasses, and poised the pencil above the paper. “Go ahead.”
“Hmm, let’s see…” She pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “Ben Travers dead. Stop. Are stallion and mares paid? Stop.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “If not, halt shipment. Stop. Please advise. Stop. Alex Travers.”
Rob finished scribbling and raised serious eyes. “I’ll get that right out. You goin’ to be in town for a while, case an answer comes back?”
Alex nodded and stepped toward the open door. “Yes. I’m stopping by the church to speak to Parson Moser and then the dry goods store to see Elizabeth Anders. If the reply doesn’t come today, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
A dreamy smile covered Rob’s face. “Miss Anders?” He sighed. “She’s a lovely lady.”
Alex bit back a grin. “She certainly is. Thank you, Rob.”
She stepped eagerly onto the boardwalk. A conversation with her parson and a meal with Elizabeth were just
what she needed. She reached for her horse’s reins then hesitated. It wouldn’t hurt Banner to stand tied for an hour or two. She patted his neck and swung away from the rail. The church was a short walk, and the exercise would do her good.
She tapped on the office door near the back of the church building. “Parson Moser, would you have a few minutes?”
The door swung open and Bill Moser’s portly form stood framed just inside. “Certainly, my dear. Come in and have a seat.”
Alex spent the next few minutes sharing her predicament with her parson, who listened attentively and sympathetically. Unburdening her load felt good. Leaning back in the overstuffed chair, she asked him, “So what do you think, Parson?”
Bill Moser linked his hands behind his graying head. “I’m not quite sure. It doesn’t sound like Ben to do something irresponsible. I can’t imagine him sending for those horses without paying for them first.” He twisted his mouth to the side and sighed. “You’ll more than likely get word that the horses are paid in full.”
“If Papa promised to buy them, I’d rather see them paid for than not. But while I’d love to introduce new blood into our herd, I can’t say it’s the best time, with Papa gone and the gold missing. Of course, maybe I can locate the spot where he found the gold.” She shook her head. “But the country surrounding the ranch is rugged, with so many canyons. It would be like trying to find a mouse in a hay field. I sure hope God’s got a plan for helping me pay off the note on the ranch. It’s going to weigh heavy on me until it’s paid.”
“I’m sure He does, Alexia. Your part will be trusting Him and keeping your eyes and heart open.”
She nodded. “You’ll keep this to yourself, won’t you?”
“Of course. But it might not hurt to let Sheriff Ramsey know. He could keep an ear to the ground, just in case.”
She nodded and pushed to her feet. “Guess I should be going. I’m hoping to catch Elizabeth since it’s about time for the store to close.”
Parson Moser rose and came around his desk. “I think that’s just what the doctor, or the parson, ordered,” he said with a chuckle. “Nothing like a little woman-talk to set your heart at ease.” He wrapped his arm gently across her shoulders, drawing her into a brief hug. “Don’t worry, my dear. The Lord will make a way out of this turmoil. Try to trust Him.”
Alex returned the hug for a moment. “I’ll try.” She stepped back and gave him a wry smile. “But you’ve known me for most of my life, and you understand how hard it is for me to depend on anyone.”
The parson’s response was cut short by a loud shout from somewhere outside. Alex jerked open the door without thinking. She bolted out of the office in time to see Ralph Peters, their huge blacksmith, racing across the small sanctuary and blasting through the front door, his massive legs devouring the distance.
Justin heard a loud holler and footsteps pounding the dirt behind him.
“Hey, you!” A man’s voice split the air of the hazy summer afternoon. “Hold up there.” The voice bellowed again.
He swiveled his head around. A lumbering man who appeared to be twice his size launched himself into the air. What in the world? The impact of two hundred and fifty pounds of solid flesh slammed into his side, nailing him to the dusty ground.
“Get off me, you oaf!” He struggled to move, but his arms were pinned.
The giant glared, his brows drawn together over angry eyes just inches from Justin’s face. “You ain’t going nowhere, buddy. Lie still and you won’t get hurt.” He tightened his grip on Justin’s arms. “Pastor! You’d better get over here.” He called to the man hurrying across the front of the church.
The arm beneath him started to tingle. Once again Justin attempted to shift his weight, but he couldn’t budge. “What’s the problem?” he asked angrily.
“Save it till the sheriff arrives.” The gruff voice sounded inches from his ear. “Johnny, run and get the sheriff, would you, boy?”
“Sure, Mr. Peters.” The high-pitched tone of an adolescent boy spoke out of range of Justin’s sight, and light feet scurried across the hard-packed ground and onto the boardwalk beyond.
Justin desperately wanted to holler at his captor, but he doubted that would improve his standing. “Ease up, all right? You’re about to break my arm.”
The pressure lessened and Justin took a deep breath. The sheriff’ll sort this out.
A door slammed, and again footsteps thudded across the wooden boardwalk. Justin gingerly turned his head. A pair of well-worn boots underneath black canvas pants strode through the dust two feet from his face.
“What’s going on here, Pastor?” The gruff voice of the stranger reached Justin’s ear.
Another voice answered. “I don’t know, Sheriff. I was escorting Miss Travers out of the church when Ralph shouted something about the church being robbed. I got here in time to see this man lying on the ground with Ralph sitting on top of him.”
Justin’s thoughts ran wild. Rob the church? He’d done no such thing! He wriggled to free himself when he spied black-laced shoes peeking out from under the hem of a dark blue skirt. He turned his head with an effort. His eyes traveled up the fabric and fastened on the flushed face of a young woman staring down at him. Long, wavy brunette hair cascaded several inches beyond her shoulders, flying loose rather than secured in the customary bun. No bonnet adorned her glossy head, but the edge of a straw hat poked out from under her bent arm. Large blue eyes looked quizzically from a perfect oval face, but her lips were pursed in a tight line. He groaned at the injustice of his position and made one more futile attempt to free his arms.
The first voice spoke. “I’ll take it from here, Ralph. Let this fellow up.”
Ralph grunted and rolled off to the side then placed his meaty hands on the ground and heaved himself to his feet.
A calloused hand reached down and gripped Justin’s, pulling him to his feet with a heave. “I’m Sheriff Carl Ramsey. What’s your story?” A pair of gray eyes under bushy white eyebrows drilled into Justin.
“I’m not sure.” Justin picked up the hat lying upside down in the dirt and slapped it against his pants, raising a cloud of dust. He glanced at the young woman standing on the fringe of the small group in time to see her avert her eyes. “This guy jumped me. That’s about all I know.”
The sheriff pivoted toward the large man, who stood with his arms across his chest. “Ralph?”
“Yeah.” Ralph jerked his chin toward Justin. “I was comin’ through the back door of the church to speak to the parson when I seen this character takin’ off out the front door. Don’t he look familiar?”
The sheriff scratched his chin and shrugged. “Can’t say that he does. Who you think he is, Ralph?”
The big man glared at the stranger. “He’s the spittin’ image of Clay Ives, the horse thief. You got his Wanted poster on the wall at the jail. It says he’s tall an’ well built with blond hair and a black horse. This feller has a black horse tied to his wagon, and the rest fits, don’t it?”
The sheriff turned his gaze on the silent man and waited for a response, but none came. “Want to tell me where you’re from?”
Justin shrugged. “Nevada. And I’m no horse thief.”
Ralph pushed his bulk forward and thrust out his chin. “So why’d you run when I hollered at you to stop?”
“I didn’t run.” Justin drew himself up and glared back. “I walked; you ran. You slammed into me, remember? I was heading to my wagon, minding my own business.”
Ralph reached out a massive hand and wrapped long fingers around Justin’s wrist. “I saw you stuffing somethin’ in your pocket when you left the church. You steal somethin’?”
The scowl on Justin’s face deepened. “What’s in my pocket doesn’t concern you.” He wrenched his wrist free and took a step back, turning to the sheriff. “I went looking for the minister and didn’t find him. I stuffed my handkerchief back in my shirt and started to leave when this loudmouth yelled at me.” He glared at the blac
ksmith.
Parson Moser stepped between the two glowering men when a cry from the buckboard startled the group. Justin slapped the hat on his head and scowled. “Now look what you’ve done. Toby didn’t get a long enough nap, and he’s going to be cranky.”
Ralph gaped, his mouth hanging open so far that his chin almost touched his chest. “You got a kid in there? Why didn’t you say so?”
Justin put a foot on a spoke of the wheel and swung up into the buckboard’s seat. “When would that’ve been? When you were sitting on me?” He leaned over the back of the seat and plucked a small boy out of the bedding. “Toby’s missing his mama and needing a meal, and that’s why I stopped at this church.” He glared at the small group assembled below him. “Anyone care to help me, or do I keep on driving?”
Alex released her pent-up breath. She’d been afraid for a minute that the disagreement might lead to blows. The newcomer looked like he could care for himself, but Ralph was a broad-shouldered, stout man, and his work at the smithy had hardened his muscles till they resembled the iron he hammered each day.
At the sound of the little boy’s cry, Alex stepped behind the parson, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed. This man’s troubles didn’t concern her, but she couldn’t help but gaze curiously at the newcomer.
Dust from the trail covered his frame. Broad, powerfully built shoulders tapered to a muscular chest and slim hips. Dark blond hair in need of a trim flopped into his eyes, and at least two days’ growth of beard covered the firm jaw. A pair of angry brown eyes glared from under the broad brow, and a straight, strong nose sat above grim lips.
As he’d pushed to his feet, his shoulder muscles had rippled through the fabric of the sweat-stained shirt. When he was on the ground, she’d assumed he’d be shorter than Ralph’s five-foot-ten height, but when he straightened, he’d topped Ralph by almost an inch.
Alex dropped her eyes before he caught her staring and averted her gaze to the stranger’s horse. If the stallion tied to the back of the buckboard was any indication, he was a good judge of horseflesh. Deep liver-chestnut—almost the black that Ralph had claimed, with a long, tangled mane and a tail nearly sweeping the ground. Looked like he might have Thoroughbred in him, along with a strong strain of Arabian. Now there was a stallion she wouldn’t mind using to build up her herd.
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California Page 4
