Mail-Order Cousins 3

by Joyce Armor

  “That was one fine supper you fixed, Mrs. Bronson.”

  “Why, thank you, sir.”

  “Was there any special occasion?”

  Our last supper? She splashed her feet in the water. Ask him. Ask him now. “I…I just wanted to show you how much I care, how fine and honorable a man I think you are.” She swore she heard the chicken-clucking sound that denoted cowardice.

  “Thank you. You humble me.”

  He seemed to be struggling with what to say himself. Maybe he was going to tell her.

  “Lindy, my job can be dangerous.”

  Was he talking about tonight or just in general? Her heart began thumping in her chest, threatening to break out through her shirt.

  “Waking up can be dangerous,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound shaky. “You can fall out of bed and crack your head open.”

  “True enough, and ranching has its perils.” He looked off in the distance for a good minute or so. “I want you to know that if something happens to me, you’ll be taken care of. My will is in the top left-hand drawer of my desk in the study.”

  Oh, God. He thinks he might die tonight.

  She smiled about the saddest smile he had ever seen. What was she thinking? Finally, she spoke.

  “I’d make out a will leaving everything to you, Cal, but I don’t think my clothes would fit you. That’s about all I have.”

  He put his hand around her shoulder. “You have already given me everything I could want and more.”

  Then he leaned over and kissed her the sweetest kiss he had ever bestowed on her. She could not bear it that he might die this very night. She knew at that moment that she would do anything for him. She would give her life for him.

  They sat in silence for another 10 or 15 minutes, listening to the babbling brook, each pondering over whether or not to come clean about the upcoming bank robbery. Lindy decided she could not let Cal go off tonight without her knowing what was going on. At this point she felt 99.9 percent certain he was on an undercover mission to foil the bank robbery. She just could not get her mind around the thought that this fine man would be breaking the law so egregiously. It didn’t make sense.

  “Cal…I have something to ask you.”

  Just as he looked toward her, they heard a shout.

  “Boss! Oh, thank the heavens, there you are.”

  Cal stood as Cobie rode up, his horse lathered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Dynamite broke through the fence in the north pasture and we haven’t found him yet.”

  Lindy looked at Cal. “Dynamite?”

  He shook his head. “One of our ornery bulls. Ornery but extremely valuable.” He quickly put on his socks and boots. “Cobie, you see that Lindy gets back to the stable safely and then join the search for the bull. I’ll head out there now.”

  He turned to his wife, helping her up. “I have a meeting in town this evening so I might not see you until much later. He pulled her to him and hugged her, then lifted her chin and kissed her gently.

  “Cal…”

  “Everything will be fine, Lindy. Don’t worry.” He untied his reins, jumped into the saddle and urged his horse into a gallop.

  She looked at Cobie and sighed, plopping down onto the ground. She motioned for him to turn around. He looked confused for a moment before finally understanding and complying. She quickly donned her stockings and shoes and untied Penelope’s reins from the bush. Her biggest challenge now was to figure out how to get to town without dragging any of Cal’s ranch hands into the danger. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let anything happen to her man, even on the slim chance he was a bank robber.

  The good news was that, when she got back to the barn, she realized that the men that normally would be there were either out searching for the bull or repairing the fence. Cobie took off as soon as she dismounted. With everyone gone, her best chance of getting to town without an escort was to leave almost immediately. She had no idea what time it was, but she could see the sun on the horizon, sinking ever lower. It was getting toward dusk, which must make it around 7:30 or so. Perfect.

  As she rode toward town, a niggling thought kept trying to enter the edges of her brain. What was it? She was reaching the outskirts of San Angelo when she finally realized what was bothering her. It was something Mr. Cutter had said about Cortland Rensalaar, that he was a thief. Could the wealthy rancher have anything to do with the upcoming bank robbery? It was unbelievable on the surface, but even Cal said there were whispers about his actions. She decided to hurry to the Cutters and see what she could find out about Rensalaar from the old man.

  The kids were taking turns beating an old rug with a broom. It hung on a rope at the side of the cabin. Mr. Cutter stood nearby, carving on a length of wood. He had fashioned a make-piece table with a couple of barrels supporting a flat slab of wood. Already she could see how intricate the carving was.

  “That will be a work of art,” she said as she dismounted and tied Penelope to the hitching post.

  “Hmmph,” was all the old coot said.

  She greeted the children and gave the rug a couple of whacks herself before walking back to Mr. Cutter.

  “Mr. Cutter, you said some negative things about Mr. Rensalaar the last time I was here. Could you tell me what he did?”

  The old man turned his head and spit in disgust. He thought for a moment, then began his tale. “My grandpa built a ranch on 500 acres back in the ‘40s. My pa carried on, and then me. Rensalaar wanted the land. I wouldn’t sell.” He stopped carving at that point, remembering. “My well was poisoned. Cattle started disappearing. I knew it was him or his cronies and I would have stayed no matter what they did. They would have had to kill me to get me off’n that property.”

  She swallowed, easily imagining the crusty old man standing his ground,

  “Then my no-good son-in-law ran off and got himself killed and my daughter and wife got the cholera and died, all within a few months. I took in Toby and Bess. They were all I had left of family. Then the barn burned down. I couldn’t risk the young’ns being hurt. I would have rather keeled over dead than sell to that snake. I sold the ranch to a feller in Dallas. He was there one month before he sold out to Rensalaar. I saw him when he caught the stage. His face was all swelled up and bruised and his arm was in a sling. I hid the money from the sale in a loose stone in my fireplace. We was in church when the cabin was ransacked and it was stole. You gonna tell me it wasn’t Rensalaar?”

  That’s why they were so poor. “Why?” She was really speaking to herself. “Why would a man need so much?”

  “Greed. For some, it’s never enough.”

  The more she thought about it, Cortland Rensalaar really could be behind the bank robbery. It would be just the kind of thing a greedy man would do. But even if he was behind the heist, would he get involved personally? Probably not, unless something went wrong. He might be there as a backup.

  “Mr. Cutter, do you have a timepiece?”

  He stopped carving and reached into his pocket, pulling out an ancient enameled watch with a couple that looked French on the cover.

  “It was my ma’s,” he said as he opened it and held it out to her.

  It was 8:35 and dusky. She needed to hurry if she wanted to get to town before dark.

  “Thank you.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed lightly. “I have to go. I have a great feeling about our partnership. I’ll be back soon. And I’ll bring a pie.”

  He watched her ride away. She was a fine woman, reminding him in some ways of his Maisie—beautiful, determined, stubborn. He hadn’t trusted anybody for a long time, but he sure as shootin’ trusted her for some reason. He hoped that husband of hers appreciated what he had.

  * * *

  They finally found the bull in a gully about a half mile from where it had broken through the fence. Dynamite was chomping on some grass and not appearing too amenable to being moved. It took another 40 minutes to rope him and haul him out of the gully and back to his
pasture. The men were just about done repairing the fence. It would take some new wood in the next day or two to ensure the bull wouldn’t repeat his escape.

  Cal took out his timepiece. Damn, it was 8:00. He wouldn’t have time to get back to the ranch house, check on Lindy and change clothes. Oh, well, who said bank robbers needed to look good? He already warned his wife he would be out late, so that was no worry. As he rode toward town, he went over the plan again. If he just wanted to arrest the robbers, he could have done that easily. What he wanted, though, was the ringleader. By inserting himself into the gang, he had subtly suggested that the best way to get away with the robbery would be for someone else besides them to take the money after they removed it from the safe. Then the money could be divvied up later. If they were caught, they could deny culpability since there would be no proof without the stolen cash.

  He doubted “the boss man,” as Decker referred to him, would risk his person by showing up, but perhaps he was arrogant enough to do just that. Decker had rebuffed every subtle effort Cal had made to name the ringleader. In any case, Decker and his two cronies would be behind bars before the night was through, and that alone would bring satisfaction. The thought of Lindy encountering the vicious man still sat hard in his gut.

  Upon his arrival in town, he reined up in front of the saloon, as planned. Once inside, he ordered a sarsaparilla at the bar, causing the dark and swarthy bartender, who looked a little shady himself, like he should be on a wanted poster, to raise an eyebrow.

  “I’m not a drinking man,” Cal said. That wasn’t strictly true. He did like a good shot of whiskey now and then.

  “We do offer other pleasures,” the bartender smirked, tilting his head toward a couple of the ladies of the night, all feathers and tight silky dresses that left nothing to the imagination. He had never been attracted to such women even before Lindy. Now there just was no comparison and nothing he would do to hurt his wife or risk their relationship. Thank goodness she was home and safe. He had a bad feeling about tonight and a job to do nevertheless.

  “No thanks. Not in the market.”

  Cal picked up his drink, tossed a coin on the bar and walked to a table in the corner, almost behind the stairs that led to the rooms where the fancy ladies took their gents. He watched as one of the women, wearing a low-cut green dress, sashayed up to him.

  “Buy a girl a drink, cowboy?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, not tonight.”

  She looked at him for an extended moment. “Pity,” she said, shaking her head as she strutted off.

  He pulled out his watch. 8:45. He’d wait 10 more minutes before strolling out and heading down the alley and behind the bank. One of Decker’s men, Morley, was supposedly an expert in picking locks. Cal had already surveyed the inside of the bank, surprised that the back door had no bar on it, something he would recommend when this was all over. The other fellow, Rob, was the safecracker. Cal was supposed to be the lookout, and Decker would oversee the whole operation. They had noted that the sheriff did his rounds beginning around 9:00 and starting at the other end of town. Cal knew the sheriff and his deputies would be at the bank at 9:15. They had to give the robbers enough time to crack the safe and be caught red-handed with the money.

  Cal had gone over and over in his mind who could be running the whole operation. Was it someone who lived in the area or someone just passing through? Or someone sending messages from somewhere else? Was it one of the soldiers at Fort Concho or one of the local businessmen? Decker was slimy and dangerous, but he was no fool. “Boss man” was the only thing he had ever said in reference to the leader.

  He checked his timepiece again. Two more minutes to kill. He spent them thinking about his wife, his beautiful, passionate, caring, stubborn wife. He loved the way she contorted to button and unbutton her own dresses and the little noises she made when making love. And he loved how she reached old man Cutter when no one else could, and the way she shrieked when she put her feet in the creek. In fact, he loved just about everything about her, from the way she was sweet and domestic in the house to her fiery demeanor as she galloped across the prairie. And it came to him then; it shouldn’t have been a surprise. He loved her. Maybe he loved her from that first letter that said she had a twinkle in her eye. And I love that twinkle, too.

  He knew it was time without looking at his watch again. He took a last swig of his sarsaparilla, set the glass down and walked out of the saloon, ignoring the suggestive glances of the fallen women. He felt no disgust for them; it was more like pity. For all their bright and shiny gowns and made-up faces, they paled in comparison to Lindy O’Hara Bronson, who dressed simply and practically and reached his very soul. He smiled as he unhitched his horse and began walking. He passed the alley once as a man rode up, dismounted and barreled into the saloon, then doubled back and pulled his horse down the alley to a spot behind an attorney’s office, which was next to the bank. Three other horses were already tied there.

  “It’s about time,” Decker hissed from the shadows.

  Cal pulled out his timepiece again. “It’s 9:00.”

  “They’re already in. Come on.”

  Cal tied his horse to a ring on the recessed side of the building and followed Decker to the back door of the bank. This was it. Hopefully they would be able to get the money before the local law showed up. His job was to stand inside the bank at the back door, making sure no one caught them. Decker would cover the front door.

  * * *

  Lindy formulated a plan as she reached the outskirts of San Angelo. The sheriff glanced up at her as he made his rounds. It was unusual to see a woman riding alone at night, although not as unusual as it would be in the East. She smiled and kept riding as if she were on an evening jaunt. She obviously couldn’t bring attention to the bank by going to the front door, so she would ride down one of the alleys, tie off Penelope and sneak to the back door.

  When she got to the back of the businesses she saw so many horses tied up, it was practically a herd. She counted five horses, including Cal’s. She didn’t want to ride past the bank, so she tied her horse up one business before the other horses. It must be after 9 if the robbers were already here.

  Now she had a decision to make. Should she go into the bank and interrupt the robbery? Should she wait just outside the door ready to waylay anyone who came out, especially the man with the money? And then she had a fairly brilliant thought. They couldn’t get very far without horses, could they? She didn’t want them to run through town, though, and alert the sheriff. She considered that as she untied all the horses and retrieved her own horse as well. She led them down the street to the fourth alley. Midway up she found a door and tied them all to the doorknob. Someone would be in for a big surprise if he opened that door. That almost made her chuckle as she headed back toward the bank. Nearing the building, she heard a muffled shot. She began running.

  * * *

  It had all gone to hell pretty quickly. Rob had opened the safe surprisingly easily. That’s another thing Cal would need to talk to the bank manager about. What was the sense in making it so easy for criminals? Rob had filled a large duffle bag with cash and bonds. Cal kept his eye on Decker, whose smirk bothered him. If he hadn’t been so intent on watching Decker, Cortland Rensalaar would not have been able to get the drop on him. He didn’t know he was there until he felt the gun in his back.

  “Don’t even think about moving,” Rensalaar hissed.

  “The boss man, I presume,” Cal said. He should have known. It just didn’t seem possible, though, since the man was already wealthy. He glanced over his shoulder. Was Rensalaar holding a pillow?

  Decker approached. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  It all happened so fast, Cal had little time to react. Rensalaar lifted the pillow and shot through it into Decker’s heart. The man’s eyes widened in shock and he collapsed. Cal turned and Rensalaar slammed the gun into the side of his head. He fought to stay conscious as his knees folded and he hit the floor, losing t
he battle. He could not have been out more than a few minutes. When he awoke, Rensalaar was dragging him out the back door. He had dropped the pillow but held the money bag. Cal saw through foggy eyes that Rob and Morley were lying in their own blood.

  “Come on, Bronson. We need to get going. You’re my patsy.”

  He forced Cal to his feet. It took him a moment to catch his equilibrium. Rensalaar nudged him on, prodding him with the gun in his back. As his mind cleared, Cal realized the man’s plan. He would no doubt take Cal somewhere a few miles out of town and kill him, making it look like he had been shot in the robbery and taken off with the money, then died of his injuries. The money, of course, would be missing, but it would look like Cal had double-crossed his fellow outlaws, taken the money and buried it somewhere. Meanwhile, Rensalaar would have the cash and no one would be the wiser.

  Cal needed to gather his strength and his wits to overpower Rensalaar. Cal was younger and probably stronger, though the wealthy rancher was a big man and shouldn’t be underestimated. Then Rensalaar swore. Cal followed his stare. The horses were gone!

  Lindy, her pistol in her hand, hugged the wall just inside one alley beyond where the horses were tied. She heard Rensalaar swear—and didn’t she just know he was involved in this—and peeked around to see him holding a gun on Cal, who had blood dripping down the side of his face. She saw red. Nobody hurt her man. She wanted to rush the evil man and bash his face in. She had to play it smart, though. If she shot him, would his reflexes fire the gun into Cal’s back? She couldn’t take that chance. She wondered what he would do without the horses and decided to wait and see if she had a better opportunity to act.

  Cal had no idea who had taken the horses. The sheriff? Horse thieves? Whoever it was, he said a silent prayer of thanks. It bought him time.

  As the men neared the alley, Lindy knew she would be spotted and that could be disastrous for Cal. So she did the only thing she could think of. She had learned at a young age to imitate the sound of a sheep bleating and she did that, over and over.