Tywyn's Trouble (Tales From Biders Clump Book 5)

by Danni Roan

  Folding the pages, he tucked them into his pocket and headed in the opposite direction the other man had gone, toward the bank.

  Twenty minutes later the lean rider stomped toward the livery, his temper high enough to match Chip’s for once. He’d gone to talk to the banker, only to be lectured on not upsetting his daughter and bringing up ugly memories.

  “What kind of banker doesn’t want the man who robbed him brought to justice?” he snapped as he stalked to his horse and grabbed his saddle.

  Chip laid back his ears, and Ty shoved him into the stall slats as the big horse snapped. “I’m liable to bite you back,” he growled, making the horse flick one brown ear, then one white ear, back.

  Ty did his usual dance, strapping down his rig as the bi-colored cayuse shifted his hooves in an attempt to find a toe.

  “That there animule is a menace.” The old hostler stepped out of his office, a white bandaged hand waving like a flag before him.

  “I warned you,” Ty snapped, swinging into the saddle and laying heels to his ornery mount before ever leaving the barn.

  “You’re lucky I made them doors big!” the old man shouted after him.

  It wasn’t like him to tempt Chip so thoroughly, but Ty chafed at having come so far, his quarry still out of reach.

  The big gelding lined out into a ground-eating gallop immediately, all business now as they left the little town behind.

  Around him, the tall peaks of the Rockies towered upward for what seemed like forever, their verdant green and gold flanks furling around the jagged tops like a cloak.

  In the distance, he could see cows meandering over the grasslands and further up, the bright white of downy sheep dotted the craggy hills.

  “It’s a right pretty place,” Ty commented to Chip as the animal’s smooth gait put Biders Clump behind them. “I hope that deputy was joking about the girl with the gun.”

  A quietness settled over him even as his burning need for justice seemed to flare.

  In no time at all the little house with yellow window boxes and pretty flowers planted around its front porch came into view, and he slowed Chip’s pace with a firm hand.

  “Hello the house!” he called, deciding to err on the side of caution. “I’m here to speak to a Mrs. Sparak.”

  “Who are you and what do you want?” a woman’s high voice echoed back through one of the open windows.

  “I’m Special Marshal Spade,” he called, carefully setting both hands on his saddle horn.

  “Oh, you must be here about those nasty men a few months ago.” A woman with bright red hair stepped out onto the porch, an old hog-leg dangling negligently in her hand.

  “Might I step down?” he asked, his manners suddenly coming back as his senses prickled. The young woman looked pleasant enough, but that old barker could put a hole in him pretty quick.

  “I don’t know,” she said, scowling up at him in thought. “Do I know you from somewhere?” She peered up at him and he smoothed his beard nervously.

  “No ma’am,” he said, pushing his hat back and trying to smile, “I only got into town today.”

  “Do you have a badge?” she asked, her voice soft, almost childlike.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He eased his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the shiny badge, letting the sun glimmer on its surface.

  The pretty woman lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the glare and tucked the pistol into an oversized apron pocket. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?” she asked again.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Well step down and I’ll fetch us some cold tea,” she offered, turning away from him. “Bruno isn’t home right now.”

  Ty shook his head as he climbed down. Who in the world was Bruno and what was the girl on about? he thought as he tied Chip up tight to a barn post.

  “Try not to break anything,” he said to the horse, “or anybody, for that matter.” He dodged a rear hoof as he sidled toward the house and stepped up onto the porch.

  “I thought you got lost.” The young woman smiled welcomingly as she placed two tall glasses of cold tea on the table.

  “I have some toast if you’d like something else,” she said, her amber eyes apologetic.

  “No ma’am, I’m just here to ask a few questions. The tea’s more than enough.”

  Janine settled at the small table and indicated he should take a seat. “What can I tell you?”

  Tywyn took a seat and sipped his drink, which was bitter and sweet at the same time, but afforded him a moment to collect his thoughts as he gazed around the tidy house.

  “I was wondering what you could tell me about the events surrounding the bank robbery and your abduction.”

  “You mean when that terrible man kidnapped me.”

  “Yes.”

  “He was a very bad man,” Janine said, sipping her tea. “Bruno and I almost caught him but when the Sherriff went back for him he’d gotten away.” She shook her head. “We got his horse and all the money back for Daddy, though.”

  “Why didn’t you bring him back with you?” Ty asked.

  “We couldn’t both ride Smoke,” she replied, as if it were obvious.

  “Smoke?”

  “Bruno’s horse.” Janine smiled. “He’s a good horse, but he’d had a fall.”

  “I see,” Ty said, not really clear on anything. “Could you tell me where this was?”

  “No.” Janine looked at him, her face open and honest.

  “Why not?” Ty could feel a headache creeping behind his eyes.

  “Because I don’t know where it was.” The young woman looked at him as if he were not all there.

  The sound of a galloping horse had Tywyn on his feet, his hand hovering over the pistol on his hip as a man’s voice rang out.

  “Janine?”

  “In here, Bruno!” the girl shouted back, making Ty’s ears ring.

  A handsome man strode through the door, his deep blue eyes cautious.

  “This is Marshal Spade,” Janine said, smiling.

  Ty watched some of the tension leave the young man’s body as he offered his hand.

  “Bruno, I take it,” he said sardonically.

  “He was asking me about that bad man,” Janine spoke. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell him much.” She dropped her eyes and her husband moved to the table and wrapped his arm around her slim waist.

  “I’m sure you did just fine,” he said encouragingly.

  Ty ran a hand over his eyes. “I was wondering about how he got away,” he said patiently.

  “I don’t rightly know,” the dark-haired shepherd said. “Maybe he had a boot knife, but when the Sheriff got to the back trail to the line shack, all that was left was rope.”

  “Can you point me in the right direction?” Ty asked.

  “I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you part of the way.”

  Ty wanted to rush from the house and throw himself into Chip’s saddle, but suspected that Bruno had more to say.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait another day, though. I only came back down out of the hills when I saw your pony ride up.”

  Ty’s lips twitched, wanting to smile at the man’s instinct to look after his wife. “I’d be obliged,” he said, “for now I’d better get back to town and gear up. There’s no telling how far I’ll have to ride yet.”

  Slowly he turned on his heel and headed out the door, his mind churning with both hope and trepidation.

  Chapter 2

  "I hope that fella's gonna be back for supper." Polly grumbled, adding fresh herbs to a roaster of tender beef. "I made enough food to feed an army and don't relish the idea of beef and noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner all week."

  Rebecca smiled, but didn't reply as she rolled out a crust for another pie.

  "I know, why don't you and Grady stay for dinner tonight? Even if that Mr. Ty-wyn, is here, we'll have more than enough." Polly smiled with the comment.

  "That would be lovely," Rebecca agreed. “I'll ge
t this pie in the oven, then run over to the school to tell Grady." Her pale blue eyes sparkled at the mention of his name while she crimped the edges of the crust.

  Polly had been working up to the invitation most of the morning and Rebecca had waited patiently for it. Ever since the older woman's daughter and son-in-law had come to collect their four rambunctious children the month before, Polly had been feeling the emptiness of the boarding house.

  "It was nice to hear from Althea today. The children seem to be settling back in at home," Rebecca mused.

  "Yes, those little scaly-wags are happy to be home. I'm glad Beth is keeping in touch with her friends, though. That girl has high-falutin' ideas, but she's good at heart."

  The back door opened and George came in, his arms full of wood for the stove and a grin on his face. "Something smells good in here," he commented with an exaggerated sniff. "Nice to have guests again so I get a good feed."

  "You old goat," Polly chided, swatting at him with a dish cloth she had slung over her shoulder.

  George laughed, pecking her on the cheek. "You know beef and mashed spuds is one of my favorites. You makin' them nice noodles to go with it?” he asked, careful to avoid the wrath of her dish towel.

  "You know I always make my grandmother's egg noodles with one of these roasts, George Olson," Polly scowled.

  "Maybe we should offer some of that there roast to the new fella's horse," George teased, making both woman look at him with surprise.

  "Well apparently the critter's got a taste for meat, ya see, he already bit Byron." George chortled, as he stacked the split wood into the box.

  "You're kidding?" Polly said, disbelief in her voice.

  "Nope, nipped him pretty good."

  "You're never going to let Byron live this down are you?" Rebecca laughed.

  "Maybe eventually, but for now it's good material." The old man's soft brown eyes twinkled with devilment. "I'd best get back to work." He smiled and headed back out the door.

  ***

  Ty pulled Chip to a slow walk, his wide hooves kicking up little puffs of dust as they entered the streets of Biders Clump. It sure seemed like a silly name for a town but he'd heard worse, so he'd take it for what it was worth.

  Keeping a short rein on his surly horse, Ty looked around him at the various buildings of the little town. The usual shops, homes, and businesses were evident. At the end of the street he could see the bank.

  Overall, the town at the foot of the South Pass to the Rocky Mountains seemed a pleasant, sleepy place with most people happy to simply get on with their daily lives.

  Turning toward the livery, he noted the restaurant across the street from the boarding house and wondered if they did much business.

  Judging by the large basket the slightly plump young blonde woman carried on her way in, he thought perhaps they might.

  Pulling Chip to a stop at the T-junction of the town, Ty sat a moment, trying to get a feel for things. He was tired of this chase, but it was his responsibility. Maybe someday when he was older and his years of usefulness to the Marshals was over, he'd find a little place like this to settle down.

  The horse under him shifted and Ty tightened his grip on the reins, just in time to keep Chip from lashing out, when a man on a spotted horse trotted by.

  "I should sell you for dog food," he grumbled, kicking the strapping pinto into motion. "If you weren't so dang dependable in every other way, I just might."

  The horse only flicked its ears and tugged at the reins.

  "Young man, I'm gonna have to charge you hazard pay if you want me or one of my fellas to tend that devil you call a horse," the old hostler greeted him as he swung down in front of the stable.

  Ty shook his head and side-stepped as Chip sidled, aiming for his booted toes.

  "He's a mean one alright, old-timer, but he'll travel fifty-miles a day and barely break a sweat. In my line of business that's important." He turned, exposing the tin badge he'd re-pinned to his vest.

  "Well, I'm right handy with horses like, but I never seen a critter so quick," Byron, grumbled, rubbing the white whiskers on his chin.

  Ty moved forward into the livery, pulling the horse with him, deftly avoiding the horse's periodic lunge for his back pockets, with a chuckle.

  "I reckon he keeps you pretty agile like, though, don't he?" Byron finally said, shaking his head as he turned back toward his office.

  "That he does," Ty agreed, leading the brown and white beast into his stall. "My reflexes have to stay sharp with you around." He reached up and patted the horse on the neck with begrudging respect.

  "You reckon I'll get a good feed at the boarding house?" Ty asked, stopping at the office on his way out, "or should I head over to that eatin' place?'

  "You'd best get in for dinner. Ms. Polly'll have something ready for ya, and knowing her, there'll be plenty of it," Byron said. "I'll fork some hay to that monster you call a mount, don't worry 'bout it."

  Tywyn Spade ran a rough hand over his eyes, adjusted the pistol on his hip and walked toward the boarding house.

  His eyes, always keen and watchful, lifted toward the tall peaks on the other side of the town and he wondered if Frank Selson was still up there somewhere, or if he’d managed to make it over the mountains on foot.

  The bank robbery and subsequent submission of recognition by the Sheriff of this little hamlet had been the first solid lead Ty had in nearly two years. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him and he felt weary.

  It chafed having to wait to head into those cool, dark depths on the hunt, but it would be a fool’s play to try to find the spot the outlaw has last been seen on his own, or would it?

  His footsteps turned toward the two-story structure of the boarding house and he was at least grateful to have a roof over his head and a soft place to sleep. Maybe he'd even trim his beard.

  Pulling the badge from his vest and tucking it in his pocket, Ty stepped up on the front porch, pausing as another man approached, a wide smile on his face.

  "Hello,” the big man with dark hair and eyes grinned. "Grady Gatlin," he offered, extending his hand. "I'm the town school teacher."

  "Mr. Gatlin," Ty spoke cautiously, shaking the other man's hand. "I'm Tywyn Spade."

  Grady noticed that the man didn't offer any explanation for his being in the town, but people had a right to their own business.

  Opening the door, Grady indicated for the other man to enter. "Looks like we'll be havin' dinner together," he said cheerfully. "Ms. Polly's known for having loads of food."

  "If lunch was any indication, I'd say we'll have a good feed," Ty agreed.

  Together the men walked toward the back of the house, savory smells growing stronger with every step.

  "Smells like roast," Grady said with a wink. "Sure is nice being hitched to the housekeeper here, we get to eat at the boarding house as much as we do at home."

  Ty grinned despite himself. The local school teacher was a pleasant man.

  "George," the big man called, slipping into the kitchen, "I've got some boys coming over to help with work around the barn this week, if you don't mind."

  "What'd they do?" George asked, knowing that Grady was making the boys pay back for some misdeed or other.

  "They were tormenting Mr. Dixon's housekeeper this morning," Grady said, his eyes flashing. "I had a talk with them and they agreed they'd come over and work for you on Saturday to show that they were truly sorry.

  "Well, they can muck the barn and clean the chicken coop," George smiled. "They shouldn't be bothering old Mrs. Nelson. She keeps to herself, but that's her right."

  No one noticed the lean stranger's head snap straight with attention as they bustled around the kitchen getting the table ready for dinner.

  As dinner started, Ty couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good meal. The beef was tender and well-seasoned, the potatoes lump free, and the noodles light and slightly chewy.

  He'd watched in wonder as his host had spooned the plu
mp noodles and beef sauce on the potatoes, but was pleasantly surprised at the combination. He even ate the fresh salad and cooked carrots.

  But mostly, he listened to the banter of the family atmosphere as those assembled talked about their day or plans for the rest of the week.

  No one directly questioned him about his business in Biders Clump, but neither did they exclude him from the conversation as they explained about the different things going on in the small town.

  He was just preparing to retire for the night when the young woman called Rebecca carried a crisp, golden pie to the table with a grin. "Berry-cherry," she announced with a quick smile.

  "Now don't that look de-lectible," George said, lifting his fork in anticipation.

  Ty settled himself back on his seat, waiting patiently for his slice. There was no need to walk away from such fine fare if you could help it, and he was pretty sure that the next few days would see him roughing it again.

  Over coffee and pie, Tywyn listened to Grady and George discussing the boys who'd been harassing the old woman. He listened closely, taking in every word as he determined to ride by the place the next day.

  It was important to keep boys on a short rein or they'd run wild, and that could lead to people like him trying to set them straight years later.

  "I think I'll be turning in now," Ty finally spoke, rising. "Thank you for a delicious meal." He tipped his head toward the women politely.

  "Good-night," George offered his dark eyes bright. "Sleep well."

  With everyone else down stairs, the lean Marshal took his time in the bathroom, washing and trimming his beard. At times, he thought about shaving it - he looked younger without a beard - but today he felt all of his thirty-two years.

  He was surprised at the hard reflection that stared back at him as he trimmed the roughest edges from his jaw.

  Finishing, he moved to the bedroom he'd been given and once more he was stunned by the ethereal softness of the stark white room. Its pale warmth somehow enveloped him and he quickly stripped before settling in the downy bed as he turned out the light.

  The sensation of drifting on a cloud overpowered the lanky lawman and soon he drifted off to sleep, his head full of thoughts of boys, and families, and loss.