Mail-Order Cousins 3

by Joyce Armor

  “All right. Tomorrow you can milk the cow and gather the eggs. Today you rest.”

  “All right. But I’m going to make supper.”

  “If you promise to rest until then.”

  She sighed the sigh of the woebegone. “All right.”

  As he approached the door, he turned back. “If you need anything, ring the dinner bell on the porch. Where’s the pistol I gave you?”

  “It’s in the top drawer of the bureau.”

  He retrieved it and set it on the nightstand. “Keep it on your person.”

  She nodded and he left. Why was he so concerned about her safety, even on the ranch? She would bet her bonnet it had something to do with that creepy man she had chased off. What was their connection? She started playing back in her mind what she had overheard in the alley. Something about a bank and next Thursday. What day was this? She was pretty sure it was Thursday. That meant whatever was happening would take place in one week. The thought she kept avoiding entered her head. Is Cal really planning to rob the bank?

  No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was too good a man. Too honorable. And that’s what you thought about Cory Anderssen. Then she remembered the bank diagram she had seen in Cal’s study and her heart sank. Maybe she should do more investigating in that room. Yes, that’s what she would do. Now that she had a plan in mind, it was as if all the energy in her body drained out, leaving her suddenly exhausted. Perhaps she would make Cal happy and rest after all. It was her last thought for several hours as she lapsed into a lengthy nap.

  Thoughtfully, Cal had left his timepiece on the nightstand. When she awoke, she picked it up and almost shrieked. It was 4:00. She had missed the dinner meal entirely and had to hurry if she was going to put together a good showing for supper. At least she was clean. She stretched languidly and made herself get up, somewhat discouraged at her weakness. It wasn’t anything specific, just a general lack of energy. Lindy was nothing if not determined, and she forged ahead, dressing in a gray skirt and white blouse and making her way downstairs.

  By the time the men filed in around 6 p.m., she had prepared a tasty meal of meat pies, stewed carrots and mashed potatoes, topped off with a custard dessert. She planned to make a couple of peach pies for Cal when she had more time and energy. She looked around the table as the men consumed the custard. By now washing their hands and removing their hats before dining had become routine, as had the prayer, which they rotated around the table, much to some of the cowboys’ discomfort. Lindy also noticed the men took a little more pride in their appearance, sometimes even donning clean shirts before coming in for the meals. Joe was a little pale and a little less animated than usual, but his recovery was progressing nicely. Lindy could feel his frustration at not being back to full strength since she felt the same way.

  As the men shuffled off, she was surprised to see them all take their dishes to the kitchen. Cal obviously had done some additional training while she was incapacitated. He gave her a hug and a kiss. “Take it easy, all right? I’ll do the dishes.”

  She could see the concern in his eyes. Whether he was a lawman or a criminal, she did not believe he could fake that.

  She got that stubborn look in her eyes, and her chin rose. “I’m perfectly capable of washing the dishes, Mr. Bronson.”

  He sighed. “All right. I have some things to take care of in the barn.”

  They smiled at each other and he was off, but not before he took his and her dishes to the kitchen. She took her time washing and drying the dishes, going back and forth on whether she really would invade his study and snoop. Was it a betrayal or her duty as a wife to find out what he was up to? She honestly didn’t know, but she was terrified that whatever was happening a week from today could change their lives forever.

  Chapter 6

  Once Lindy had set several loaves of bread to rise, she went to the front room and looked out the window. It was a gorgeous day, sunny with a gentle breeze. She promised herself she would spend some time outdoors today. Right after she betrayed Cal by snooping in his study. She felt partly excited, like a detective must feel when searching for clues. Mostly, though, she felt guilty. Even if Cal was engaged in criminal activities, that didn’t mean she had to stoop to dishonorable behavior herself. But maybe you can help him, save him from himself.

  Yes, that was a presumptuous thought. Then she wondered why she didn’t just confront him. Why not ask him about the meeting in the alley and what was happening next Thursday at the bank? You know why. She was afraid of the answer. She cared deeply for her husband. All right, she loved him. He was all that was good and kind and capable and protective and hardworking. Yes, he did insist on a fit wife without describing his own fitness, but that was just about the only flaw she had found in him so far. That and the reprehensible company he kept. And whatever it was that she didn’t know about him. He said he was working on a case, so that’s most likely what he was doing. Was she letting her past experience color her view of Cal? Undoubtedly, yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. It was the cautious nature that had almost overcome her after the Cory Incident, which she apparently had made too much of over the years, yet it was like a snowball rolling down a hill.

  She would just take a little peek around his study to put her mind at ease, she decided. Keep telling yourself that. Lindy shook her head, took a deep breath and entered the room. The windows faced east, so there was plenty of sunlight bathing the study. She stood to the left of the window so as not to be seen from the outside and began going through the papers on Cal’s desk. Most of them seemed related to ranch work—contracts for cattle and horses, bills for materials, lists of projects, receipts and other items. On the bottom of one pile, almost as if it were hidden, she found the bank diagram. This time the safe was circled. It was a simple thing, but it made her heart sink. And then she saw an added notation: 9 p.m. Thursday.

  Almost in a daze, she let the paper float out of her grasp, trying to slow her pounding heart. She put a hand on her forehead, attempting to think. Her other hand shaking, she carefully placed the diagram in its original position, straightened out the other papers and left the room. Once back in her bedroom, she paced, pondering. What should she do? Should she try to talk Cal out of it? Inform the sheriff? Leave her husband? No, no and no, she decided. Cal might be furious if he knew she had gone through his papers, and he might end up dead or in prison if she brought the sheriff in. She loved him; she couldn’t leave him. She had to stop him. But how? She wanted to think he was on some undercover job. She was just too suspicious to totally believe it, though. If that were the case, he would have told her, wouldn’t he?

  She remembered how curt Cal had been when she asked him about the case he was working on. He cut her off and essentially told her it was none of her business. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have something to hide. And now she knew what it was. So how could she stop him? She sat down by the fireplace to gather her energy and plan.

  Ultimately, she decided to try killing him with kindness, to let him know how she valued his honor and integrity. Yes, she would try to guilt him into giving up his plan to rob the bank. And if that didn’t work, she would grab him by the ankles and not let go Thursday evening. She would not let him rob that bank.

  She did that for the next five days, and they would have been five of the happiest days of her life if there weren’t an invisible wall between her and Cal. On the surface everything seemed fine. Better than fine. But there was an imperceptible distance between them caused by that meeting in the alley.

  He knew something was wrong but could not put his finger on it. Lindy was all that was loving and caring and devoted, doing and saying all the right things, yet somehow distant. Her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He’d asked her more than once if everything was all right, and she had assured him it was. He knew that for the lie that it was. But he had to focus on the upcoming bank job right now and promised himself he would get t
o the bottom of things once that was over and devote his life to making his wife happy.

  It was Wednesday early morning, one day before her marriage might come to an end. Breakfast was over, the dishes done, the men out working. She decided to make three peach pies. While they baked, she sliced up bread and turkey for sandwiches and gathered some cranberry sauce and put them in the ice box for later.

  Once she had done the laundry and hung it out to dry, it was time to take the pies out. They looked perfect and smelled delicious. Setting them on the counter to cool, Lindy went to the front room and added a log to the fire. Even though it was late June, the mornings were still chilly. She picked up her basket of mending and set to righting all Cal’s shirts and trousers, ignoring her own clothing for the time being. When that chore was completed, the pies had cooled and she covered them with clean dish towels.

  Now she could wander outside and take in the beauty of the day. She felt silly doing it, but she hadn’t forgotten Cal’s admonition to keep the pistol on her. It was in the pocket of her skirt. She stopped at the privy behind the ranch house and decided to walk up to the knoll in the distance. Shading her eyes from the sun, she began the trek, almost regretting it as she climbed the hill. It was wearying, and she realized she hadn’t gotten all her strength back from her illness. When at last she reached the top of the little knoll, she saw a grave and walked over to it. A beautiful wooden headstone, no doubt carved by Cal, read: Jace Robert Bronson, Beloved Brother, 1849-1870.

  She felt a tear sliding down her cheek and wiped it away. Dropping to her knees, she began pulling weeds around the tombstone. She brushed some dirt off it and looked around. A few feet on the other side of the knoll, she spied a patch of buttercups. She went over and pulled several, forming a little bouquet, which she placed on the grave. Then she said a heartfelt prayer that Jace rested in peace and asked him and God to look over Cal and help him make the right decisions.

  “I miss him.”

  She flinched. How had Cal gotten so close without her hearing a sound?

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She smiled up at him sadly. “He was so young. Tell me about him.”

  Cal crouched down beside her and brushed a bit of dirt away from the bottom of the gravestone. “I think I told you, when our ma died and we were alone, he was 14. He became kind of rebellious and belligerent. As he got a little older, he matured, but he always had that wild streak. When he worked, he worked hard. He just didn’t always want to work. He was a charmer. The ladies loved him.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had two ranch hands at the time. I was out branding with the two of them. Jace was supposed to get up early and feed the livestock, milk the cow and clean out the stables.”

  Lindy could see it was costing him to go back to that day and she reached out to hold his hand. He squeezed hers.

  “He was in town the night before and returned to the ranch late. In the morning, he slept in. He must have gotten up and out to the stable at around 10 o’clock.”

  He took a deep breath. She dreaded what would come next.

  “Rance Keeper had killed a man over a card game in Brady City. He was on the run. He was heading northwest, cutting through our property, when his horse came up lame. He decided to steal one of ours. Jace was in the barn and never had a chance. Keeper shot him in the back.”

  She hugged him. “I’m so sorry, Cal.”

  “If he had done his chores early as he was supposed to, he wouldn’t have been in the barn. If I had insisted he come with me for the branding, he wouldn’t have been in the barn. If I had done a better job…”

  “Stop. Jace was in the wrong place at the wrong time. His murderer could have killed him in the house. He could have killed you and your ranch hands. It was Jace’s time. He was young and foolish and maybe a little reckless, but it’s understandable. His anchor was yanked out from under him at a tender age. He probably never had the thought, but he was living for the moment, like the youthful and those who have faced death often do.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her. When had she become his anchor?

  “How did you know Keeper was the one who killed him?”

  “I didn’t know at first who I was tracking. Rance Keeper always left a memento, like he was proud of ending someone’s life. The sheriff in El Paso told me.”

  She turned and looked at him questioningly. He kept his arm around her.

  “An ace of spades.”

  “What happened to the murderer after you turned him in?

  “He was hanged a couple weeks later. I received a $1,000 reward but gave it to a widow with three children. He had killed her husband because he didn’t like the way the man looked at him as he passed him on the street.”

  Lindy almost told him what she planned to do after the midday meal, but she didn’t want to argue with him and thought it was better to ask forgiveness later rather than permission now. She stood up, peering off in the distance. She could see a lone rider traversing a field, perhaps a half mile away. It was probably one of the ranch hands, yet the sight of the man sent a shiver down her spine. She thought about alerting Cal, who was already walking back down the hill, and decided against it. The rider was disappearing over a rise. She put a hand to her chest. She could feel it. Trouble was coming.

  * * *

  The mid-day meal was over, the dishes cleaned and put away. Lindy peered out the front window. Good, no sign of Cal. She had a few hours before she needed to make supper preparations. She picked up the pie she had painstakingly wrapped in paper and made her way to the barn. Flynn and Cobie were putting hay up in the loft and greeted her. She smiled and waved. As she saddled Penelope, the name she had given the horse she rode, Flynn approached.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She smiled. “Yes, I’m going visiting.”

  “I guess I’m going visiting too.”

  “All right.” She had to figure out a way to get rid of him once they got to town, as she was certain the children’s grandfather would be more “cantankerous” if he were facing a man rather than a woman.

  She waited while he saddled a horse, then mounted and had him hand her the pie from the shelf where she’d placed it.

  “That sure smells good, ma’am.”

  “It’s Lindy, and there’s two more pies in the kitchen for dinner.”

  “Boy, howdy!” he grinned.

  As they left the barn, he turned to her. “Where are we going?”

  “Town.”

  “Oh, good, I can pick up a hoof pick.”

  Perfect. She smiled.

  Once they got to San Angelo, no small feat for Lindy trying not to drop or squish the pie along the way, she went with him to the feed store. As he hitched his horse to the rail, she smiled her most innocent smile.

  “I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Shouldn’t be but five or ten minutes.”

  Once he was inside, he turned around to look at her. He was right to be suspicious, of course. She smiled and waved. He turned back around and walked further into the store, and she trotted off to the east. Once she was outside of the town proper, the land became rather barren, with scrub bushes and large rocks. It was almost desert-like yet somehow beautiful in its austerity. It seemed as if she had gone more than a half mile and she was starting to think she wouldn’t be able to find the children’s home when she spied a cabin in the distance.

  The closer she got, she could see it was small and weathered. There were no plants or flowers to enhance the appearance. She saw a well and a small barn beyond the cabin. As she rode up, the cabin door flew open and a white-haired apparition emerged, waving a shotgun.

  “Git off’n my property.”

  “Mr. Cutter? My name is Lindy Bronson. I met your grandchildren in town.”

  “Are you deef?”

  She smiled. “No. I’ve been told I’m stubborn, though. “

  “Hmmph.”

  She started to dismount and he
took a menacing step toward her. She didn’t think he would shoot her and hoped to God she was right. The man was thin and slightly bent, with thick white hair shooting out in different directions that did make him look a bit crazy. He wore dusty overalls and a shirt that must have once been white. It was gray now. He wore brown socks with a big hole in the heel of one and no shoes. His shotgun looked like a relic from the Revolutionary War.

  “I brought you a peach pie.”

  That seemed to startle him. He stopped and scratched his head. “Why?”

  As she started to answer him, she saw the two children standing in the doorway.

  She smiled her most disarming smile. “Just being neighborly. I haven’t lived here long. I thought you and the children might like it. It’s fresh out of the oven.”

  He thought about that. She figured he could smell the pie and was wrestling with himself over whether or not to accept it. Finally he tried to snatch it from her. She moved it out of his reach.

  “There’s one condition. You have to share it with me.”

  He looked her up and down, sizing her up. She could tell he desperately wanted the pie but didn’t want her inside the cabin.

  “I brought a blanket. We could eat outside.”

  He thought about that and nodded briskly, turning to go back into the cabin.

  “Oh, and we need plates and silverware,” she called after him. “And napkins.”

  He shook his head, grumbling, and shuffled back into the cabin shooing the children out of the way as he entered.

  Lindy smiled. Her mother called it “pie hospitality.” Never failed. She tied Penelope up at the hitching post, marveling at the ornate carving on it, all swirly and delicate, with an intricate horse head on either end. She made a mental note to ask Mr. Cutter about it as she untied the blanket from behind her saddle. She spread it out a ways from the cabin, under the lone tree, and looked around. What a dreary existence. Better than an orphanage, though, and the children didn’t appear to be mistreated, just very poor.