Love Finds You in Last Chance, California

by Miralee Ferrell

  Alex stepped out the door and peered up the dusty street, hoping to spot Samuel’s stooped form heading her way. The sauntering figure of a man coming toward her drew her attention.

  “Miss Travers.” Sheriff Carl Ramsey paused to tip his hat, exposing his shaggy gray locks. “Business with Samuel?”

  She hesitated then pulled the door closed behind her and joined the sheriff on the walkway. “Yes, but he’s out right now. May I speak to you in your office?”

  His gray brows rose but he nodded and gestured for her to move ahead. “Certainly.” He adapted his long stride to her shorter one. How she hated wearing a skirt. Trousers gave a sense of freedom that this tangled mass of fabric could never do. She was sorely tempted to disregard her father’s wishes and wear them to town, but Martha would scold her if she tried. Wearing men’s pants while working on the ranch was one thing, but doing so in town was another.

  Sheriff Ramsey ushered her into his office. He waited until she had seated herself and then sank behind his desk, sticking his long legs out to the side and propping one foot over his knee. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” His smile crinkled the corners of his mouth and reached up to his twinkling eyes.

  Sunlight streamed through the small window positioned above his desk and threw sparkling rays over the scattered papers. Sarah must have cleaned again; the shining windows testified to her handiwork. Alex sniffed, taking in the scent of freshly scrubbed floors. “You’re lucky to have a wife who loves to clean.”

  He chuckled and straightened the pile on his littered desk. “Yep. Sure am. Drives Sarah plumb batty that I won’t let her touch my desk. I know she’s itchin’ to come in when I’m gone and make everything neat and tidy, but I told her ‘Hands off.’ She don’t need to be worryin’ about who’s busted out of jail or wanted by the law.”

  Alex grinned. “Sounds like Sarah. You’re lucky to have her, you know.” She removed her straw hat and placed it on her lap then smoothed her hair back from her face. “You heard about my father taking out a note against the ranch?”

  His eyes widened a bit then narrowed. “No, sure haven’t. Surprises me, though. Your pa didn’t seem the type who’d go in debt.”

  She nodded. “Exactly. You asked about my business with Samuel. It seems Papa may have found gold on our land.”

  The sheriff’s mouth dropped open. “Ah-huh. Well, now.” He sucked in a breath and shook his head as though trying to clear it. “Who’da guessed it.”

  “He dropped ore samples off to be assayed, and I’m hoping to get the report. I was hoping he might’ve mentioned it to you, maybe given you an indication where it was located. With the gold gone that he borrowed from the bank…”

  “Gone, you say?” Sheriff Ramsey leaned forward and placed his large hands flat on the desk. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Mr. Elton said Papa borrowed money and took it in gold. It wasn’t found on him, and I’ve not found it at the house. I’ve searched the area where he fell but didn’t find anything. Uncle Joe knew he’d found gold, but Papa never told him where.”

  “Uh-huh. That might bear lookin’ into some. Yes, sir. Think I’ll take me a little ride out to where he fell for another look-see around.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff; another set of eyes would help.”

  The sheriff held up his hand. “One more thing, Alex. You’ve known Carter Foster for years. His pa and yours were friends and neighbors. He might be a good man to turn to if you keep havin’ trouble.”

  She placed her hat back on her head and tied the ribbon under her chin. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I don’t think it’s anything Uncle Joe and I can’t handle. Just thought you should know, you being the law and all. I’d best get back and see if Samuel’s returned.”

  He pushed up from his chair, making it creak in protest as his lanky frame rose. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  Samuel kept his head down for a full minute after Alex stepped into the room, his gaze intent on a chunk of ore he turned slowly in his hand. A heavy magnifying glass hovered in one large hand, and he studied the rock from several angles before carefully placing it back on the table and raising his eyes.

  “Miss Travers. May I help you?”

  Alex stood in front of the desk, her hands clasped in front of her. “Good day, Samuel. I understand that my father brought in some ore a few weeks ago. Do you have the report?”

  Samuel adjusted his eyeglasses and reached for a stack of papers on the corner of his cluttered desk. “Hmm. Ben Travers. Let’s see…” He shuffled through the stack, one paper at a time, placing each one down before peering at the next.

  Alex gritted her teeth and clenched her hands to keep from grabbing the stack and flying through them herself. Samuel might be thorough, but he wasn’t known for his speed. A snail could flounder across the street before Samuel finished considering whether to step off the boardwalk.

  He reached the last several pages and his hand paused in its search. “Ah…here’s the paperwork. I knew I’d find it eventually.” He pulled his eyeglasses from his face and waved them in the air. “I distinctly recall Benjamin bringing the samples in. However, he asked that I not disclose the results without his permission.” He shoved the eyeglasses back into place and gave Alex a suspicious look over the rim.

  She did her best to school her features into somber lines and not roll her eyes. “As you might recall, my father is no longer with us. He can’t give his permission, and as I’m his daughter…” She braced her fingertips on the edge of the desk, leaned forward, and smiled. “I’m sure you won’t have a problem giving me the report.”

  Samuel cleared his throat. “I suppose it would be appropriate, as you’re his only kin.” He adjusted his eyeglasses then glanced down at the paper and back up at her. “Hmm… Fred, my assistant, notes here that it was already picked up. Well now”—he rubbed his chin and squinted at the paper—“Fred writes that your pa gave us permission to give it to another gent.”

  Alex jerked upright. “What other gent? Uncle Joe?”

  “I’m not sure. Fred didn’t clear this with me.” Samuel shoved his chair back from the rough-hewn worktable and set his eyeglasses down.

  He swung around and stared at the door in the back of the room.

  “Fred. Come on out here.” His bellow filled the room and Alex winced.

  The door opened and a young man with a dirty mop of light brown hair shuffled into the room. He glanced at Samuel then his gaze darted to Alex. A wash of red crept up his neck and flooded his cheeks before he dropped his head and stared at the floor. “What’cha needin’, sir?”

  “Got a question for you.” Samuel thrust the paper at the boy. “I found this receipt with your name on it. Says someone stopped in here with a paper from Ben Travers. You wrote down”—Samuel waved the paper under Fred’s nose—“that he picked up the report on the ore. That right, boy?”

  Fred’s eyes rose to the level of the paper under his nose, and he stared at the words. “Yessir.”

  Alex tried to still her pounding heart. “When exactly was this?” Who had asked after her father’s business? Had he empowered someone besides Uncle Joe? If so, why didn’t Joe or she know about it?

  “Hmm…let’s see.” Samuel scratched a spot on his fleshy cheek. “It don’t say here on the paper what day he came by.” He jerked his attention back to the red-faced young man. “Fred. You’re not supposed to give out paperwork ’thout showin’ me first. ’Sides, I told you to always date these things. It’s important to date ’em.” He shook the paper again and Fred took a step back.

  Alex moved forward and lowered her voice. “Fred, do you remember who the man was and what day he picked up the report?”

  Fred peeked at her. “I–I–I think it was the day your pa died. Your pa signed a paper sayin’ it was all right to give it to the man.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense. Papa planned on dropping the samples off that day, and he never made it to town.”

  Samuel drew
himself up and dropped his hand to his side. “No, ma’am. Ben dropped off the samples a few days earlier so’s we could get the assay done….”

  Alex extended her hand and gripped the edge of the desk. “What do you mean? Uncle Joe told me he brought them to town that day.”

  “No, that was the second batch. He brought in the first bunch a week before. I tol’ him I’d like more from another spot nearby, so’s we could know the extent of the find. But he never arrived with the second batch. I don’t believe the ore samples were found on him or his horse.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  Alex looked from Samuel to Fred. “Do you still have that note—the one the man gave you?”

  Samuel turned to Fred, eyebrows raised. “What about it, boy? That man give you the paper from Ben?”

  “Yes, sir. But he asked for it back. The gent came a couple of hours a’fore your father’s accident. He had a paper and said Mr. Travers sent him. He asked me to sign it so’s he could show Ben he came by. Sounded reasonable, since you said Ben was wantin’ the assay report in a hurry. I signed it and give it back.” Fred clasped his hands in front of his waist and wrung them. “I asked him to sign a paper sayin’ he took the report. That help you any?”

  Alex nearly threw herself at the young man. “You have his name and signature? Yes, please show it to me.”

  Fred shuffled over to the worktable and reached underneath. He slid out a wooden crate, pried open the lid, and stood up with a paper clutched in his hand. “I tol’ him we couldn’t let no reports leave outta here without bein’ signed for.” He thrust the paper at Alex.

  She reached out an eager hand and gripped the paper, her heart rate accelerating with hope. Maybe they could put an end to this mystery. She ran her eyes down the single sheet and stared at the bottom. “There’s nothing here but a statement that someone picked up the report for my father, an X, and the name ‘Tom’ beside it.”

  Fred nodded. “I put down on the paper that the report was bein’ picked up at Ben Travers’s request and asked the man to sign it. He put his mark at the bottom.”

  Alex stifled a groan and rocked back on her heels. This was growing worse by the moment. “Can you describe him?”

  Fred narrowed his eyes and looked up at the board-covered ceiling. “Let’s see. About yea tall.” He held a hand up to his own height. “Brown hair, maybe in his twenties, and not too heavy. Looked like a miner.”

  “That fits a few dozen men in the area. You didn’t recognize him?”

  “Can’t say that I did. I’m sorry, Miss Travers. He said it was Mr. Travers’s signature and I didn’t question it, since Mr. Travers was waitin’ on the results.”

  After scolding Fred one more time, Samuel waved him out of the room. He waited till the young man disappeared through the back door then pasted on a smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Travers. If he weren’t my sister’s boy, I’d never keep him on. He’s a good boy, just don’t always think.”

  Alex tapped the toe of her boot against the wood floor, working to stifle her irritation. “Do you remember the assay findings?”

  “Oh yes, I certainly do. The ore showed a strong indication of gold. That’s why I wanted a second bunch of samples, to confirm his find. But it looked like he’d hit a decent pocket. You find that gold, Miss Alex, and you’ll be sittin’ pretty. Yes, ma’am.”

  Alex headed out the door. She’d left her patient gelding waiting at the hitching rail long enough.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning Justin took advantage of Miss Alice’s offer to watch Toby. He could think of one person he could ask about Ben Travers’s location. His hard-heeled boots made deep thudding sounds on the rough-hewn boardwalk as he directed his steps toward Sheriff Ramsey’s office.

  The town looked only slightly different from ground level. Trees flourished on the edge of town surrounding Miss Alice’s abode; some farsighted individual must have seen the value that shade would add to the home. A scattering of wildflowers dotted the landscape around a nearby house, and an old oak spread its magnificent boughs over the cedar-shake roof. According to Miss Alice, many of the trees suitable for timber had already found their way to the local sawmill. Three large oaks stood in front of the Last Chance Hotel, but only a few of the smaller pine, cedar, and fir trees lingered on Main Street.

  “Mornin’.” Justin tipped his hat to a woman gripping the hand of a young boy as she stepped out of the mercantile and into his path.

  “Who’s that, Ma?” The youngster’s voice carried back to Justin, but the mother’s reply was lost in the tramp of feet heading the opposite direction.

  Not a lot of people in town this morning, which suited him fine. He strode to the end of the boardwalk and down to the street below. A light rain had fallen during the night, settling the dust. He drew a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the freshly washed air.

  He rounded the far corner of the mercantile and stepped up onto the walk. The door swung open and a woman stepped out. Justin altered his stride and attempted to swerve, but she did the same—right into his path.

  His shoulder struck hers, and the box she carried careened toward the ground. Why hadn’t he been watching more closely?

  She took a stumbling step. “Oh, gracious.” Her hands shot out, grasping at the air.

  Justin abandoned his quest for the box and lunged toward her, clutching her shoulders and setting her upright. He retained his grip until she stood firm on her feet, staring down into the same pair of beautiful eyes that had peered at him as he lay in the dirt in front of the church. He groaned, released her, and stepped back. “I’m sorry, miss. I should’ve been watching my step.”

  A slow blush colored her cheeks and she swung her head, tossing her long hair to the side. “No, it was these miserable skirts. Why I have to wear so much fabric is beyond me.”

  He raised his brows and smiled, but he couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t embarrass her further or dig him a deeper hole. “I see.”

  “I’m sure you don’t, but it doesn’t matter.” She shook out the folds of the offending skirt and then tipped her head and met his eyes. “Oh. You’re the man that Ralph—” She stopped herself with a roll of her eyes. “Now I must apologize. I put my foot in the hem of my skirt and then in my mouth. Papa wouldn’t be happy if he’d heard me.”

  “No need, ma’am.” He retrieved her box and brushed the loose dirt from its sides. “I hope this wasn’t something breakable.”

  “It’s only sugar, so no harm done. But I’m glad it didn’t burst, or there’d be no pie or cookies any time soon.” A quick smile flashed across her face. “I’ve got more errands to run. Good day.” She tucked the package under her arm and headed across the street toward the dry goods store.

  Justin shook his head. First he’d landed in the dirt in front of her, and now he’d nearly knocked her into the street. Hope I never have to see her again, he thought, and then realized that his wish wasn’t entirely genuine.

  Justin forcibly turned his thoughts toward what had brought him down this street in the first place. He stepped off the walkway and across to the sheriff’s office, just in time to see the man himself step out of the door. He picked up his pace.

  “Sheriff?”

  Carl Ramsey spun around, an alert look in his sharp eyes. “Phillips, right? Wasn’t sure I’d see you again, after your reception at the church the other day.”

  Justin removed his hat, running his fingers along the wide brim. “That’s what I’d like to talk about.”

  “Ah-huh.” The sheriff peered from under shaggy brows and wagged his head toward the still-open door of his office. “Come inside.”

  They crossed the threshold in silence, and Justin waited till the door shut behind them. “Thanks.”

  Ramsey motioned with his head toward a chair and took the wooden one behind his desk. A loud squeak emanated and he winced. “Keep meanin’ to oil that, but I never think of it when I’m up. How’d you find things over at Miss Alic
e’s?”

  “Nice lady. Offered to watch Toby so I could talk to you. Good food, too. I’m beholden to you.”

  The sheriff flashed a broad smile. “That woman sure can cook. My missus and I stop by there ’bout once a month and take a meal with her. Gives my Sarah a break from cookin’. Now, what’s on your mind?”

  Justin ran his fingers through his hair, wondering where to begin. The letter from Travers residing in his hip pocket was a constant reminder of why he’d come, but the need to move slowly had kept him silent until now. Sheriff Ramsey struck him as a fair man and a decent judge of character, based on the way he’d sized up the situation at the church. Travers hadn’t indicated where the trouble lay, but Justin doubted that the man sitting across from him played a part in it.

  He leaned forward and met the sheriff’s interested gaze. “First, I need to tell you that Benjamin Travers sent for me. He asked that I not make that known, but I believe I can trust you. I don’t know the area or where Travers lives, and I figure you’ve the right to know why I’m in town.”

  Ramsey’s chair protested again as his weight shifted forward and his eyes bored into Justin’s. “Travers, you say. Ben Travers sent for you? Why?”

  “That’s between him and me. If he cares to tell you, fine. All I need is some direction to his place.”

  “Afraid he can’t tell me anything. Or you, for that matter. Ben Travers is dead.”

  Justin jerked up, nearly toppling his chair. “Dead. What do you mean? I have a telegram from him. He sent it a month ago.”

  “’Fraid his heart gave out. At least, that’s what Doc Stevens thinks.” Sheriff Ramsey crossed his arms and leaned back. “He just invite you out for a friendly visit?” He tipped his head at the vacant chair and waited until Justin settled back down.

  “Travers said his ranch was in trouble and thought someone might be threatening his life. He asked me not to let anyone at the ranch know he’d sent for me. Said someone named Alex wouldn’t appreciate interference.”