by Jon Sharpe
“He said he was thinking of movin’ on. Real fast-like.”
“So he was nervous.”
“Real nervous.”
The sound of snoring cut through the conversation like a saw. Kenny’s head rested on his chest. He was fast asleep.
“You shouldn’t of shot his hand that way.”
“Well, he shouldn’t ought to have attacked me.”
Sam shrugged. “He was scared, real scared. Clete was, I mean. I would’ve been, too. Two of them were dead. He had to know he was next in line. He said he was going to hide out somewhere.”
“He give you any hint of where that was?”
“He didn’t say. Don’t blame him for that, either. You want to hide out, you don’t want anybody else to know where you are.”
“He mention who might be doing the killing?”
“No. And I asked him. I said that he must know something. But all he said was that I’d be surprised.”
“When Sheriff Cain talked to you, did you tell him what Clete said?”
Irritation in the voice and eyes. “I didn’t tell that sheriff jack shit. He’s always treated me and Kenny like we was scum. I wouldn’t help him if he was drowning.”
“You telling me everything you know?”
Sullen now. “Yeah. But I probably shouldn’t after what you done to Kenny’s hand.”
“Don’t you want to find who killed Clete?”
“Yeah, and that’s the only reason I’m talkin’ to you.”
“You have any opinion about who it was?”
“Hell, yes, I do. Ned Lenihan. And everybody knows it. He knew them three boys all their lives. They used to hang around the stage line all the time they were growin’ up. They worshipped him. They’d do whatever he asked them to. And that includes robbing a stage and splitting the money with him.”
“You have any proof of that?”
“Don’t need no more proof than the fact that he needs money bad for that farm of his. He don’t want to look bad for his lady. She’s another one I don’t like. Kenny asked her to dance one Saturday night and she claimed he held her too tight and took some liberties. Everybody takes some liberties when they dance. A little feel here and there. Who does she think she is anyway?”
Kenny’s snoring was louder now. Fargo decided he’d probably outstayed his welcome with the Raines boys. They weren’t exactly the kind of company he cared to keep.
“Maybe you better put his head down on the table before he falls out of the chair,” Fargo said as he stood up.
“Yeah,” Sam snarled, “and maybe you shouldn’t ought to have shot his gun hand.”
The troubled feeling was still with Amy Peters as she stood near the counter where Ned Lenihan was helping a customer finish wrapping up a small box. In addition to selling tickets, overseeing the welfare of coaches and horses and paying salaries, Ned was also responsible for all the shipping. Cawthorne was getting big enough that this represented a significant portion of the small company’s profits. Ned liked to joke that he had nightmares about never being able to speak any words but those of the cautions he gave people shipping things that might break. “You realize that the company can’t take responsibility.” He always said this in the self-mocking way that made her smile.
She hadn’t intended to stop by today. She needed to get home. There was cooking, washing, sewing to do. But after her encounter with Tom Cain she felt a need to see Ned. The past few times she’d seen Cain there’d been a certain edge in his voice, almost a threat. And today’s words—and maybe she was wrong, maybe she was hearing something that he really wasn’t saying—today’s words seemed to carry a warning of some kind.
“Your quilt’ll be fine, Mrs. Swanson,” Ned said to the older lady who had reached into the pocket of her long skirt to dig out her coins. “Now that we’ve got the string tightened up and everything.”
Her clawlike right hand showed why she hadn’t been able to wrap the package properly. Arthritis. The knuckles swollen, the fingers twisted. “You sure do take care of people nice, Ned. That’s why everybody likes you.”
“And here I thought they liked me because of my good looks.”
A sweet smile on Mrs. Swanson’s face. “And you make me laugh.”
When the transaction was done, the old lady, picking her way with her cane, looked up and saw Amy standing there. “I sure wouldn’t let him get away, Amy. He’s the best man in this whole town.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, Mrs. Swanson.”
She went on out, leaving them alone in the small office. Schedules and promotional material cluttered the walls in front of the counter. Behind were two desks and five filing cabinets. The back door led to the corral and barn where the vehicles were worked on.
“Well, you’re looking more beautiful than ever, Amy.”
“A touch of the blarney in all Irishmen, as my aunt Mae used to say.”
“Well, remembering her husband, she married a man with more than a touch of it.”
They often joked about Amy’s uncle Dick. He was a decent man but a poor one. This didn’t stop him from always giving other poor people advice on how they could become wealthy. People always told him that if his advice was good he should take it himself.
Then Ned said, “Something wrong, Amy?” Studying her face now.
She put her hand out and he took it. She knew she was making a fool of herself but she couldn’t help it. She needed to reassure herself that everything in her little world was all right, safe. That Ned and she would finally get married and live out their lives together.
“I just got sentimental I guess, is all.” What she wanted to tell him was how much she feared for him. The whispers she was hearing. Her continuing distrust of Tom Cain.
He leaned across the counter and she met him halfway. They kissed.
“Well, stop in any time you get sentimental, Mrs. Peters. I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
Door opened. Bell above it rang. She felt color in her cheeks. Had Mrs. Riley, a professional gossip, seen them kissing? Apparently not, because Mrs. Riley’s scowl wasn’t nearly as deep as usual.
“Hope you’re having a good day, Mrs. Riley,” Amy said.
“I’ve had better ones,” Mrs. Riley said.
She was always such good company, Amy thought. If you liked complainers.
Mrs. Riley was one of those tall women who got too close to you when you talked so that you had to look up to her. She also tended to shout rather than simply speak. Apparently she had only two dresses she was willing to wear in public. A dark blue one and a black one. Shoulders and cuffs were white lace and they were belted in the middle. Today she wore the black one.
She set a small, carefully wrapped package on the counter.
“Now, Ned, I’m not necessarily blaming you for this but the last time I gave you a package to send, the wrapping string came loose. I would prefer that not happen this time.”
Even from the opposite end of the counter Amy could see that the white string around the box was already loose.
“I’ll be sure to take care of that for you, Mrs. Riley.”
Mrs. Riley glanced at Amy. “I consider you a very lucky woman to be engaged to Ned here, Amy. And I defend him every chance I get. As far as I know he didn’t have anything to do with that robbery or these terrible killings.”
Amy felt her face burn. Anger and embarrassment. “Well, that’s very nice of you, Mrs. Riley.” Wanting to spare Ned any further talk of the matter.
But Mrs. Riley wasn’t finished. “I know you need money for that farm of yours you should’ve given up a long time ago. If you had, Ned, people wouldn’t be so suspicious of you. That’s one thing. And as for the killings—I always say that Ned is a sweet little man. Some of my friends always wondered why Amy here didn’t take up with Sheriff Cain. He’s so handsome and strong and—well, manly—but I always say that Ned is a comfort. And maybe that’s what Amy needs at this time in her life.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Mrs. Ri
ley,” Amy said, now more amused than angry. “And when people speak up against you, I’m always the first to say that just because she gossips and tells lies doesn’t mean that deep down she isn’t a very pleasant woman.”
Now it was Mrs. Riley’s face that flushed red. The blue gaze scorched Amy’s face. “I see. A decent woman offers her support to a man the whole town thinks set up that robbery and killed those three poor boys and you think it’s all right to mock her? Are you going to let her insult me this way, Ned?”
“Well, if she hadn’t, Mrs. Riley, I would have.” Ned picked up her small box. “The string is already loose. Just as it was on the last box. But this time I’m going to do you the favor of retying it for you.”
She snatched the box from his hands. “I’ll mail it. Ralph at the post office would never let anybody mock me.”
Lenihan’s Irish eyes twinkled with malice. “Maybe you don’t know what he says about you after you’ve gone.”
She stormed to the door. “Now I know that what people say about you is true. And I hope they hang you.”
She slammed the door so hard the glass shivered.
Amy took Ned’s hands in hers. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just couldn’t help it. That old crone.”
“Don’t worry about it. Ralph called her out a couple of years ago just the way you did. That’s why she started using the stage.” He smiled. “I feel sorry for Ralph.”
Amy laughed. “She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?”
But for all the humor of the moment, Mrs. Riley’s words worried Amy. The town was beginning to see Ned as the number one suspect. In a situation as volatile as this one, that was a frightening realization.
9
The woman who approached Fargo was the handsome blond sister of the dead man he’d discovered. Karen Byrnes had changed into a ruffled white blouse and black skirt. A red woolen shawl over her shoulders flattered her blue eyes and rose-colored lips. She carried a large cloth purse over one arm.
Fargo had just left the Gold Mine when she waved to him and hurried to meet him. After sitting with the Raines brothers he welcomed contact with a gentler soul. The way she filled out her blouse made talking to her even more enticing.
With the clatter and clutter of wagons and buggies behind her, she reached him slightly out of breath. “I’ve been looking for you for the past half hour, Mr. Fargo.”
“You could always call me Skye.”
“Skye, then. Thank you.”
The ivory skin was tainted only around the eyes. She’d been crying.
“You probably won’t like what I have to say.”
“I doubt that but let’s hear it first and see.”
She touched his arm with careful fingers. He liked that. “I’ve been playing detective. I promise I won’t do it again. But I thought of a woman named Ingrid Haller. Her son was one of the three boys killed. She told me about a man named Rex who saw somebody talking to the boys just before the first one was killed.”
“Did he say who?”
“No. Not to her anyway. I was wondering if you and I—”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I work alone. I’m not even taking Tom Cain along with me. But I appreciate your offer.”
Before he knew quite what she was doing, she slid her arm through his and began walking them down the street. A pair of lovers out for a stroll. That was the mood she was obviously trying to set. A smart young woman able to put her grief aside to get what she wanted. In order to find the man or men who’d murdered her brother.
“Rex is a recluse. For most people he won’t even come to the door. And he has a dog.”
“This seems to be the town for guard dogs.”
“Do you know Helen Hardesty?”
“Matter of fact I do.”
“Rex’s wolfhound is the father of Helen’s wolfhound.”
“Can’t wait to meet him. Helen almost sicced hers on me.”
“She’s a feisty lady.”
“I noticed that.”
“Anyway, Rex won’t talk to you. You’ll need me along.”
“He has an eye for beauty, then.”
“Why, thank you. But no, that isn’t it at all. I knew him growing up before he was a recluse. He was an usher at our church and I sang in the children’s choir. Once a week I bake bread for him and bring it over.”
“Makes sense. But just because he’ll let you in—us in—doesn’t mean he’ll tell us anything.”
“I think he can be persuaded.” She tapped her purse. “I’m bringing him this week’s bread. And not just one loaf but two.”
“A very enterprising young woman.”
“Well, if I don’t keep busy, I’ll lose my mind. Thinking about Clete—” She choked back tears.
Holding her arm closer to his side, he said, “Then let’s go see Rex.”
Eyes.
A few weeks ago when Ned Lenihan walked down a Cawthorne street everybody had a smile and a hello for him. Made sense. Lenihan was generally a mild and friendly man to just about everybody. From helping people build their barns to giving money to those in need, Lenihan was known to care deeply about the welfare of other folks.
A few weeks ago that had all changed. The secret strongbox filled with money. The robbery. The murder of the Englishman and driver. The murders of the three boys. And now it was all changed and likely changed forever.
Eyes.
As he walked to the sheriff’s office he stared into the faces of old friends and found strangers. Found in those eyes distrust and contempt. Found in those eyes anger and a certainty that he had been involved in all of it.
The gazes lashed him. Even the few who spoke to him only grunted, as if they were embarrassed to even acknowledge his existence. What was the word in the Bible? Pariah. Yes, that’s what he’d become. A pariah to his own town.
When he finally reached the sheriff’s office, he noticed that people stopped in their tracks to watch him. Did they think he was going in there to confess? Wouldn’t that be a good show for them all?
He opened the door and pushed in.
Pete Rule sat behind the small desk to the right of Tom Cain’s. Lenihan was both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed that he wouldn’t have his confrontation with Cain and relieved that the confrontation wouldn’t happen. His feelings were all crazy these days.
Rule had been writing on a large pad of paper. His eyes showed surprise when he saw who it was. “Morning, Ned.”
“Cain not around, Pete?”
“Over to the courthouse.”
“Oh.” Lenihan stood there looking around as if he’d never seen the sheriff’s office before.
“Something I can do for you, Ned?”
Lenihan appreciated Rule’s tone. The two had never been close friends but they’d always been friendly. Rule had had to suffer Cain’s arrogance the way everybody else in town had and Lenihan often found himself feeling sorry for the deputy.
“Well, I was going to talk to Cain.”
“Maybe something I can help you with?” Rule dropped the pencil he’d been using and leaned back in his chair. “You all right, Ned? You look pale.”
“I feel pale.”
“Why don’t you sit down in that chair there? How about some coffee?”
“Coffee would be good.” Lenihan’s voice was faint and he felt dizzy. He’d begun to sweat. He inched his way to the chair and sat down while Rule got him coffee.
“Here you go, Ned. You sure you’re all right?”
Lenihan took a deep breath as he accepted the tin cup of coffee. “It’s getting to me, Pete.”
“What is?” Rule said as he took his place behind his desk again.
“You know what I’m talking about. You know damned well what I’m talking about.”
Rule nodded. “It’ll blow over, Ned. You know how people are. They reach for the easiest answer. And for some reason right now you’re the easiest answer.”
“But it’s the wrong answer.”
�
�I know that and I tell everybody that.”
“The way I figure it, Cain’s behind this. He’s the one stirring this up.”
“Well—”
“You know it’s true.”
“How’s the coffee?”
“C’mon, Pete. Help me. You know Cain’s behind this.”
“It isn’t just Cain, Ned. It’s everybody. You work there. You’re in charge of things. It’s logical in one way—even if it’s wrong.”
“Is it logical that I killed those three boys—even if I was involved in the robbery, do you really think I could kill those three boys?”
“It isn’t logical to me. But people start talking and”—he leaned forward on his elbows—“you need to tell me everything you know, Ned.”
Exasperation in his voice, Lenihan said, “You’ve known me for twenty years. I recommended you for the job when Cain first came here before I knew what he was like. You’ve known Amy and her family longer than I have. And you’ve still got doubts about me, Pete?”
“I’m just being a deputy, Ned. That’s all. If you tell me you didn’t have anything to do with it, I’ll believe you.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“All right. I’m throwing in with you. I’m going to bring it up with Cain the next time I see him. He should be back here in a while.”
Lenihan paused. “You ever consider the possibility that Cain is behind all this?”
“Aw, c’mon now, Ned. Just because you didn’t have anything to do with it doesn’t mean that Cain did.”
“He’s still after Amy.”
“He gave that up.”
“That’s what he says. But think about it. With me out of the way he might still think he has a chance with her. He’s not the kind of man who gets turned down very often. And it embarrassed him. A lot of people sort of laughed about it and he knew that. Maybe this is his chance to get up a lot of money and take another crack at Amy. He’d have a clear field if I was out of the way.”
Rule went over and poured himself more coffee. He tipped the pot in Lenihan’s direction but Lenihan shook his head. Rule came back and perched himself on the edge of the desk. “You’re wasting your time thinking about that, Ned. And I’m saying that as your friend.”
