Once a Lawman

by Raine Cantrell

  Conner gently pressed his knees against the horse’s sides. It was in the Lord’s hands if the animal threw him, too.

  At first he whispered sounds more than words, then promised apples and grain and hay and pasture in an unbroken supplication to soothe the animal.

  He snarled the second the horse nervously pranced in place, then moved out at an easy canter.

  Conner never looked at the body he left behind. Billy Jack would have done the same for him.

  And he needed to search for signs of Dacus and the other men as he rode back to find Belinda.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Within an hour of Phillip Jarvis’s unexpected arrival, the Kincaids’ concern with Conner’s delay turned to worry. It was left to Macaria to welcome him. She had seen the admiration in his eyes each time he looked at her. At another time, Macaria would have pursued the mutual attraction. Now she had to stop him from arguing with Logan as he handed out rifles to the search party.

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re her uncle. You ain’t riding with us,” Logan insisted. Now that he had settled on a course of action, he had no time to waste on Belinda’s uncle.

  “It seems you’ve stepped into Conner’s boot real nice, Logan,” Ty commented, grinning as he slapped his brother’s shoulder. “You sound just like him at his most arrogant.”

  Logan grunted in reply, then tossed rifles from the gun cabinet in the office to Ty. He in turn passed them out to Hazer, Blue Dalton, Moddy Helms and Glenn Casey. Large as the room was, it was crowded now. Logan took out a rifle for himself.

  “You have not given the new repeating rifles to my son, Raphael, and Enrique?” Santo asked. He had hobbled into the room on crutches the moment he had learned there was cause for concern. His broken ankle was healing rapidly, but Santo knew this was one time he could not ride with the men he had raised like his sons.

  Logan shot a quick look at Ty, then at his mother. “I want Raphael and Enrique to stay here at the house with you, Santo. They can be your legs if the rest of the men need to be rallied. I wouldn’t put it past Riverton to ride on us.”

  What Logan didn’t say, couldn’t say to the man who had been like a father, was the distrust he held for both Raphael and Enrique. The trouble with cattle-rustling had started soon after Raphael brought Enrique to work for them. Logan knew it would break Santo’s and Sofia’s hearts to know their son was suspected of betraying the Kincaids to Riverton.

  “No one will question Logan’s orders,” Macaria said, regal in posture and bearing as she came to stand beside her middle son. She lifted her worried gaze to his face. “No one but your mother may do so. Allow Phillip—”

  “No, Madre. I can’t watch out for him. You heard what Casey said, shooting down by Ouajaia Creek. Maybe it has something to do with Conner being delayed, and maybe it doesn’t. I can’t imagine why Conner would be anywhere near there. I’m not taking chances by hauling some pilgrim along while I find out.”

  “Macaria,” Phillip said softly, “do not beg for me.”

  “Since when did you and my mother get cozy enough to use first names?”

  “Logan! You will not question me, my son.”

  “Nor I,” Phillip added in that same soft tone, but a hard look at Logan conveyed the message that he meant it.

  “I don’t have time to hear this,” Logan declared, but his mother’s hand gripping his arm said otherwise. He didn’t like the way Phillip stood alongside his mother, nor did he understand why she allowed it. Phillip’s black boots gleamed, his black box suit, white shirt and string tie made his dress the most formal of the men gathered in the room. He was as tall as Logan, slimmer in build, his craggy features tanned in a face framed by black hair threaded with gray.

  “Logan, I realize my unexpected arrival at this time is not something you wish to deal with, but I am as worried about my missing niece as you are about your brother. I insist you allow me to accompany you. And I assure you,” Phillip said, leveling a hard, steady look from almost black eyes, “I am well versed in the use of firearms.”

  “Well versed in firearms? What’d ya do…shoot ducks on Lake Michigan?”

  “Logan! I have taught you better than to insult a guest in my home.”

  “Sí, Madre. Jeez, listen to him,” Logan muttered, disregarding every politeness his mother and Sofia had drummed into him. He turned aside and opened the large drawer of the cabinet to remove boxes of cartridges.

  Phillip leaned over and took one for himself. “Ah, .44-40 center fire. Good. I shall be able to use these as extra ammunition for my Colt.” He opened the two buttons of his box-style black jacket, pushing the material behind the holstered gun belted around his hip.

  “I didn’t know you were carrying—”

  “I shall recommend my tailor, if you’d like. Even a city like Chicago can be dangerous to traverse at night.”

  “Fine. You got a weapon. But—”

  “Don’t worry, Logan,” Phillip interrupted again, then smiled. “I do know how to use it for more than shooting ducks in a lake. I rode with the First Illinois Sharpshooters under Brigadier General Jacob Ammen during the war until a bullet curtailed my military career.”

  Logan didn’t have any more time to argue with him. He didn’t like giving in, but he couldn’t refuse his mother’s silent plea. He offered a curt nod of acceptance and moved to where his Jessie waited.

  “Hey, sunshine, keep those rascals close to the house. I don’t want you chasing after them. You’re too precious to me.”

  Jessie nodded, her expression solemn. “Keep your head down, outlaw. I don’t want anything to happen to make you forget your promises.” Her smile was forced, but then so was Logan’s as he looked away. Hidden by Jessie’s skirt, his fingers entwined with hers.

  “Listen up. I want you men to understand that there will be no quarter given if Riverton’s men attacked Conner.”

  The men didn’t murmur assent. Their eyes, hard and bright with the promise of violence, spoke for them.

  Macaria held Logan briefly. Touching his cheek, she whispered, “Go with God, my son.” She moved away, going to Ty to whisper the same to him.

  Logan gave Jessie a quick, hard kiss, then looked at his boys. They quickly came to stand with them. “Kenny, you’re near a grown man. I’m trusting you to keep Jessie and Marty safe for me.”

  “Ah, jeez, let me come with you. You know I can help. I was with you with those outlaws and—”

  “And I remember nearly losing you, son.” He leaned over, his tone confessional. “Jessie’d have my hide to tan if anything happened to you. It’s a man’s responsibility to care for those he loves. You’re my oldest boy,” Logan said with pride, “and the responsibility is yours when I’m not here.”

  “All right.”

  It was a grudgingly given agreement, but Logan took what he could. He wouldn’t embarrass Kenny with a hug, but he squeezed his shoulder before he hunkered down in front of Marty.

  “You promise me to obey everyone bigger than you?”

  “I p-promise. You promise me you w-won’t let them hurt Conner?”

  “’Course he promises,” Kenny answered for Logan. “His word’s good as any pa’s.”

  That was his Kenny, Logan thought, heart-punching a man when he least expected it. “Kenny’s right. No one’s gonna get hurt. Now give me a hug for luck.”

  Marty flung his skinny arms around Logan’s neck and whispered, “Conner was gonna bring me my badge today.”

  “And you’ll have it from him.” The guilt feelings over his fight with Conner and parting in anger could not be held at bay any longer. Logan welcomed the stinging reminder they brought. It was another spur to make sure his brother would be found. No matter what it took. Logan rose to his feet with Marty in his arms. “Remember, no sneaking off.” He set the boy down next to Kenny, who immediately put his hand on Marty’s shoulder in imitation of Logan.

  “Ty.”

  They all turned to face the doorway where Dixie stood,
Sofia beside her. Macaria broke off her whispered conversation with Phillip.

  “I told you to rest,” Ty said, striding across the room to his wife. He handed the rifle to Sofia and took Dixie in his arms. She was warm and sleepy eyed. A close hug wasn’t possible, so he stepped to the side, resting his hip against hers. His hand caressed her distended belly.

  “Angel, don’t you ever listen to me? You need to take care of yourself and our little one. And don’t,” he murmured in her ear, “dare have this baby without me.” Like his brother, Ty gave his wife a quick, hard kiss.

  Dixie cupped his cheek. “Remember that I love you. Come home safe to me. As for the baby—” she glanced down to pat her tummy “—I hope your order to wait was heard.”

  “Bet on it, love.”

  Ty turned to call Logan, his throat closing with emotion when he glanced back at his wife’s eyes. He feared this latest upset would bring on her labor.

  Ty took his rifle from Sofia. “I leave her in your good hands.”

  “Sí, corderito, I watch her and the bebé.”

  He shook his head, then smiled, as Sofia had meant for him to do when she called him lamb, her childhood nickname for him. Seeing the smile widen on Dixie’s lips, he kissed the old woman’s cheek and whispered his thanks.

  “Where’s Rosanna? She’s the only one missing.”

  “Ah, that one,” Sofia answered, shrugging. “She is here, then she is gone. You go with all our prayers.”

  “Then let’s ride. Logan.” Ty’s gaze fell on two sullen faces—Enrique’s and Raphael’s. It was all he could do to turn away when he longed to take the two of them behind the barn and beat the truth out of them.

  He spun on his heels and walked down the hall. The men filed out after Ty, Logan in the lead, Phillip bringing up the rear.

  Macaria hesitated, then went after them.

  In front of the house, Jed Henley, one of the old-time hands, stood with the horses. “Handpicked each an’ every one of ’em,” he told Logan.

  “They look good, Henley.”

  “Phillip,” Macaria said, as the others began to mount. “Wait a moment, please.” She beckoned him away from the others.

  “Will you send me off with good wishes and a kiss, too, Macaria?”

  “This is not why—”

  “Don’t ask me to stay now.”

  “No, it is not of this I wish to speak to you. I…” She chided herself for hesitating, but his dark eyes staring into her own made her forget the words. She had to look away to say her piece. “This has been a shock for you, to come so far to find your lovely niece missing from Charles’s, then coming here to discover that she never arrived for her visit with the child.”

  “He is my great-nephew, Macaria. Marty, as you call him, is a miniature replica of his father, Robert.”

  “We do not dispute this.” Eyes flashing, Macaria’s regal manner came into play. “There are the child’s feelings to consider before a decision of what to do can be reached. We love the boy.”

  “I see for myself how much, but—”

  “But you distract me. I wished you to know that you must not place blame on my eldest son, Conner. He is a man of honor, one who would give his life to protect someone entrusted to his care. Conner is like our ironwood trees, hard and strong. If Charles has betrayed my friendship and past feelings for him and hurt my son or your niece, he will pay. If Conner breathes, he will make Charles pay.”

  “An admirable man, your son. I shall look forward to meeting him. But there is something you must understand, Macaria.” He took her hands within his, holding them and ignoring the question in her eyes.

  “Charles is my longtime friend. If there is any paying to be done, Charles will pay me first. My nephew Albert disappeared from Chicago a few weeks after Belinda began her travels to find the boy. I had to follow Albert.

  “Belinda is unaware that Charles and Albert have been communicating for some time. I should’ve warned her instead of thinking I would find him first. I sent her here, to Charles, believing she would be safe with him. But the letters I discovered written between them alarmed me. Belinda tried to warn me about Albert. I wouldn’t listen to her. Now, my disregard of her strong feelings may have put her life in danger.”

  “We do not know this, Phillip. There is hope. Always there is hope.”

  Phillip shot a quick look over his shoulder, hearing a low-voiced taunt from Logan. “Your son scowls at me for delaying them.”

  “Then I send you off with the same words I gave my sons. Go with God, Phillip.”

  “Hey, pilgrim,” Logan yelled, annoyance tinged with a growing anger in his voice. “We’re riding now.” He suited action to word, neck-reining his horse toward the open gates. “Henley, bar them after us. No one is to leave here, understood.”

  “I’ll be up in the tower myself to make sure of that,” the man replied.

  Phillip cast Macaria a last look, then mounted the fresh horse and followed the others out of the wooden gates set in the adobe walls that surrounded the house and outbuildings.

  Logan turned to see that Phillip had indeed joined them. He looked at Ty, riding alongside him. “I’ll have a talk with him when we get back.”

  “We’ll both have a talk with him. But let’s choose our words carefully, brother. Ma wasn’t exactly making sheep eyes at him but that may be due to being worried about Conner.

  “She’s gonna be a grandmother, for pity’s sake.”

  “Come to think of it, Logan, Ma ain’t that old.”

  Logan looked forward. “We can always turn Conner loose on him.”

  Ty laughed, softly though, thinking of Conner’s anger and disbelief when their mother informed him that Charles had once courted her and planned on doing so again. But the laughter quickly faded.

  “First, Logan, we need to find Conner.”

  As one, they spurred their horses into a ground-eating pace. The others followed suit.

  All but Phillip. He raced his horse at a flat-out run until he drew even with the Kincaid brothers.

  The two of them, Logan and Ty, shot the man intense, hard looks, but Phillip’s grim demeanor warned that he would not tolerate staying behind the pack.

  Logan shrugged, tugged his hat brim down low and concentrated on the task at hand. Ty mimicked his brother’s moves, and settled deep in the saddle.

  Phillip’s lips broke into a brief smile. Grudgingly given, it was still acceptance of his place to ride in front with them.

  Nearly an hour and a half later, they approached Ouajaia Creek, which lay at the far boundary of the ranch, close to Riverton’s property. Logan had not raised the question of why his brother Conner would have taken this route, it wasn’t the most direct way to get to the main house. He recalled how hard his brother had tried to convince him that he didn’t find Belinda Jarvis attractive. Damn you, if all this was your dallying with some woman.

  But the itch at the back of his neck—a sure warning of trouble—gave lie to his thought about Conner.

  Logan ordered a lower pace as they neared the area, then halted the group before they rode for the shade under the big cottonwood trees.

  “Ty, you and Hazer read what happened here, before we churn up the ground.”

  “Let Ty do it alone,” Hazer said, reaching for his canteen. “Santo taught him as well as he did me. Ty’s eyes are a hell of a lot younger than mine.” His gaze locked with Logan’s, then shifted to Ty. “We don’t want any mistakes.”

  Logan removed his short-crowned Stetson, wiped the sweat from his forehead and resettled his hat on his head, all the while he looked at the ground. He heard the sounds of canteens being uncapped. The hazy afternoon sun showed no mercy in relieving the stifling heat.

  “Ty—”

  “I’m gone.” Ty slid from his saddle, then started walking a slow circle well back for the trees. He went down to the creek, squatting to study the muddy bank, then rose to begin quartering the area. Neck bent, eyes cast to the ground, Ty moved slow
ly.

  Impatience marked the cast of Phillip’s features, but he remained silent. Not so Logan.

  “Talk to me, little brother. I’ve got an itch that wants scratching real bad.”

  “The buckboard came in here. Set for a spell.” Ty hunkered down in the thick grass. He didn’t see the need to tell anyone that the crushed grass he ran his fingertips over had come from cloth pressed by a heavy weight. It didn’t take the sense of a week-old kitten to figure out that Conner and his society lady had found a way to communicate after all.

  He stood up, avoided looking at Logan and continued. “Three or four riders. Kinda hard to tell, the earth’s pretty tore up. I can’t swear that our buckboard was here, it could’ve been someone else driving a wagon without weight. But if I had to guess, I’d say Conner stopped here. It’s funny about the way the ground’s tore up. Almost as if a horse was racing and turning—”

  “Like a cutting horse?” Casey asked.

  “Yeah. Just so. That doesn’t make sense. But I’d bet money there’s been some kind of a scuffle here.”

  Ty bent over and picked up a small object between his thumb and forefinger. “Lady’s hairpin,” he said, walking over to show Logan.

  When Ty stood next to his brother’s horse, he held his open palm up to him. “What do you make of that?”

  “Blood, Ty?”

  “That’s what I figured. Damn it!” Ty looked away. The angle at which he stood gave him a clear view of the furrow of flattened grass. “Logan,” he said very softly, waiting until his brother directed his gaze to what Ty saw.

  “Something dragged?”

  “What the devil are the two of you whispering about?” Phillip demanded. “Remember, my niece is supposedly with your brother, although how anyone could mistake an old Mexican man for—”

  “Conner’s the sheriff and there’s bad blood between him and Riverton.”

  While Logan continued to explain to Phillip, Ty started to follow the furrow, careful to walk along the edge of it. Several times he bent down and picked up something, until he was satisfied and returned.