“Never thought about it that way,” he said, his eyes warm with amusement.
Hoping he hadn’t noticed her flaring cheeks, she offered him another smile. “And I’m sure there would be less chance for…error,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” They stared at each other for a moment before he slanted his head toward his horse. “I best be going,” he said.
“Do you have time for refreshment? Some lemonade?” It was hot, and now that her secret was safe, she could afford to be hospitable.
He looked about to say yes but then changed his mind. “I better not. I need to wrap things up with the Petersons so I can write my report.”
Sighing with relief, she moistened her lips. If Neal had been building a barn, he wouldn’t have had time to rob a stage. It didn’t explain the money under the porch, but his reputation would remain intact, and she was willing to settle for that.
The thought lifted her spirits, and she smiled more freely this time. “Thank you, again, for fixing the step,” she said. “It was a big help.”
The Ranger flashed a crooked grin that sent her pulse racing. “Glad to be of service.”
Surprised and more than a little dismayed by the way his smile affected her, she drew in her breath. “If you see Jesse before you go, tell him I said hello.”
Matt mounted his horse before answering. “Will do,” he said.
With a wave of his hat, he rode off. Watching him, Ellie-May tried telling herself that everything would now be okay. Matt Taggert was leaving town, and the Petersons were bound to back her story. That would take Neal off the hook as far as the Rangers were concerned.
But a niggling inner voice told her there would be no peace now that she knew what lay beneath her porch. She didn’t want to believe that Neal robbed a stage, but no other explanation made sense. If Neal didn’t put the money there, then who in blazes did?
* * *
Claudia Peterson opened the door to Ellie-May’s knock. Looking pleased to see her, she motioned Ellie-May inside. “What a nice surprise. Come in, come in.”
Ellie-May crossed the threshold and was careful not to trip over the children’s blocks scattered on the floor.
As usual, Claudia looked harried. Her black hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, and her wrinkled skirt, shirtwaist, and apron would have benefited from a good pressing with a sadiron.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Claudia asked.
“I just stopped by to say hello and bring you this.” Ellie-May handed her a jar of strawberry preserves she’d made herself.
“That was very thoughtful of you.” Claudia studied the jar a moment before setting it on a low table next to a celluloid baby rattle. “How are you doing?”
“Better,” Ellie-May said, “but it’s been a rough year.”
“I can’t believe that it’s been that long since your dear husband…” Claudia checked on the baby lying inside a cage made from two chairs wrapped in mesh. Seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention back to Ellie-May. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “I’ve been remiss in my neighborly duties. I’m afraid time has gotten away from me. Why, it seems like only yesterday that your Neal…”
“I know,” Ellie-May said. However, since finding that money under her porch, time had seemed to stand still. “There’s no need to apologize. I have only two children and have no time to socialize. Whereas you have eleven.” By the looks of it, a twelfth child was on the way.
As if to guess her thoughts, Claudia lovingly pressed her hands on her rounded middle. “We’re expecting a December baby,” she said and laughed. “That’s the only month in which I haven’t yet given birth.”
Ellie-May laughed, too. “I guess now that you’ve run out of months, you’re done.”
“Lordy sakes, I hope so,” Claudia said and then grew serious. “I still feel bad for not reaching out to you. After everything your husband did for us, it’s the least I could have done.”
It was the opening Ellie-May had hoped for. Prayed for. “Speaking of Neal, I was wondering…” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Do you remember when you last saw him?” It seemed like a dumb question, even to her own ears, but it was the best she could do. Since recalling that the barn raising had been on the same day as the holdup, she’d not been able to think of anything else.
Wrinkling her forehead, Claudia tapped a finger to her chin. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Was it at your barn raising?” Ellie-May pressed.
Claudia stared at her. “Funny you should ask about that. A Texas Ranger came to the door yesterday and asked the same thing. I’ll tell you the same as I told him. Neal never showed up at the barn raising. I guess he got busy or something.”
Ellie-May gulped and tried not to let her dismay show. Busy like robbing-a-stagecoach busy? “Are you s-sure?” she stammered. “It was more than a year ago.”
“Quite sure,” Claudia said. “I remember my husband saying what a pity it was that we didn’t get a chance to see Neal before…” She cleared her throat. “Why all this sudden interest in our barn raising?”
“It’s just…” Ellie-May’s mind scrambled for an explanation. “I know Neal wanted to come, and I thought—”
“Don’t feel bad,” Claudia said kindly. “Knowing Neal, he would have been here if he could have been.” She frowned. “But why did that Texas Ranger—”
“I’m sorry,” Ellie-May interrupted. Anxious to leave, she turned to the door. “I can’t stay.”
Claudia followed her out to the porch. “It was really nice seeing you again,” she called, her voice reflecting confusion.
“Thank you. You, too.” With a wave of her hand, Ellie-May hurried to her horse and wagon, her head pounding. Neal wasn’t at the barn raising. He’d said he was going there. So why hadn’t he? What had stopped him? In her mind’s eye, she could see the gunnysack of money, and she felt ill.
Blinded by tears, she grasped the reins of her horse and frantically drove home.
8
Three weeks later
Matt woke that morning in a tangle of bedding. Sunlight had already settled on the canvas roof over his head, and it promised to be another hot day. Ranger Madison’s cot was empty, and the smell of coffee drifted through the tent opening, a clue that Matt had overslept.
Again.
Since leaving Haywire, he’d not slept well. Either he’d fall in bed at the end of the day exhausted or wind up twisting and turning until the wee hours of morn. Last night was one of those nights. He tried telling himself that his bouts of insomnia had nothing to do with his failure to track down his brother. Nor did he want to think it had anything to do with the other Rangers singing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fella” to him on his birthday, which had reminded him of a certain blue-eyed lady.
Sitting up, Matt planted his feet firmly on the ground and rubbed his bristly chin. His company was getting ready to move again. Standing, he donned his trousers and reached for his shirt.
It had been three weeks since he’d left Haywire. It hadn’t been by choice, but there was nothing more to be done there. Mrs. Peterson had told him that Neal never showed up for their barn raising, but even that didn’t prove Blackwell guilty. The most Matt had was circumstantial evidence, and that wasn’t enough to convict anyone, let alone a town hero.
The captain hadn’t been happy with the end result, nor had the senator. But unless something extraordinary happened, the stagecoach robbery that had taken place in Haywire more than a year ago would probably forever remain unsolved.
Matt had tried putting the matter out of his mind, though questions remained. Even after all this time, the unsolved robbery continued to be a thorn in his side. Not only had he failed to arrest his brother, but he’d also failed on another job. That sure didn’t look good on his record.
He told himself that his obse
ssion with the Haywire robbery and missing money had to do with job performance and had nothing to do with the pretty widow.
Ellie-May Blackwell had secrets, no doubt, and may or may not have lied about the Petersons, but for some reason, her combination of strength and vulnerability had left a memorable impression, crazy as it seemed.
The whole thing was crazy. Had a state senator not been involved, the holdup would probably have gone down in the annals as an unsolved crime, and the Texas Rangers would never have been asked to step in.
Even more frustrating, Matt had hoped to be back on his brother’s trail by now. But Charley had apparently decided to lie low for a while, and the captain seemed in no hurry to reassign Matt to the case. There was nothing to do but wait until Charley made his next move. All Matt could do was hope and pray that a trigger-happy bounty hunter or lawman didn’t get to him first.
Captain McDonald stuck his head through the tent opening. “Hey, Taggert,” he said, breaking into Matt’s thoughts. “Someone here to see you.”
Puzzled, Matt finished buttoning his shirt. Who would possibly want to see him? The Ranger tent quarters were located ten miles away from the nearest town. It was still relatively early, and his company was getting ready to hit the trail, their job there done.
The captain stepped aside, and who should take his place but the boy Jesse James.
Matt couldn’t believe his eyes. Jesse was the last person he’d expected to see. “How’d you find me?”
Stepping through the canvas opening, Jesse pulled off his slouch hat and shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “I stopped at Ranger headquarters, and they told me you were here.”
“You traveled to Austin?”
Jesse shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Didn’t know how else to find you.”
Matt stared at him. It had only been three weeks since he’d last seen the boy, but he appeared even thinner than before. His bedraggled clothes hung from his bony frame like an empty potato sack. He also looked pale and smelled ripe as old meat. But first things first.
“Does your pa know you’re here?”
“No, sir. All he knows is I’m not there.”
Matt blew out his breath. Oh boy. “How’d you get here?”
Jesse hesitated before replying. “Stole a ride on the train.”
Matt frowned. “No train comes out this far.” A dispute between landowners and train moguls had delayed the laying of tracks, and Matt’s company had been assigned to make peace. After much haggling, the two sides had finally agreed on a new train route a few miles west.
“I walked from the station.”
Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “You walked?” He glanced down at the boy’s thin-soled shoes. “That’s at least ten miles away!”
“I know, sir.”
Matt studied the boy’s gaunt face. “When’s the last time you ate?”
Jesse thought for a moment. “Not since the day before yesterday.”
Matt grimaced. He was willing to bet the kid hadn’t slept since then, either. “I told you, you’re too young to be a Ranger.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” Jesse said and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “I saw him.”
Something in the boy’s expression made Matt sharpen his gaze. “Saw who? Who did you see?”
“The man I saw talking to Mr. Blackwell about that stolen money. I saw him at my pa’s saloon.”
“Your pa doesn’t own a saloon.”
“Never said he owned it. It’s just where he spends all his time.”
Matt rubbed his bristly chin. “Are you sure it’s the same man?”
Jesse nodded. “I wouldn’t have come all this way ’less I was sure.”
Matt had all but discounted Jesse’s prior claims, but this time, it was hard to ignore such sincerity. Nor could he believe the boy would go to all that trouble of tracking him down had he not been telling the truth. Still, it was a shock to realize that his reluctance to believe the boy had more to do with Neal Blackwell’s widow than anything else.
He hoped to God for her sake that Jesse was mistaken or making things up.
Still, Matt had to be sure. If what the boy said was true…
He placed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder and turned him toward the tent opening. “Okay, let’s get you some chow.” Soap and water wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. “Then we’ll talk some more.”
* * *
Ellie-May stifled a yawn and stared at the door marked MAYOR. Though she had done her best to hide the shadows under her eyes with powder, her sleepless nights had taken a toll. It had been three weeks since she’d found the money under the steps. She’d hardly been able to sleep since, let alone think of anything else.
If Neal did steal that money—and it certainly looked like he had—it meant that everything she believed in, everything she’d thought true, was a lie. Her whole life was a lie, and there was no getting away from it. Still, it was hard to believe that her husband and the father of her children was a criminal. But there didn’t seem to be any other explanation. At least none that made sense.
She didn’t want to believe Neal was guilty, but each time she stepped on the porch, she thought about the money hidden beneath. Thought about how close Matt Taggert had been to finding it. Thought about what would have happened had he done so.
She sensed the Ranger was a man of integrity, and it pained her to think how she had pulled him into her web of deceit. That she, herself, was forced to live a lie.
But it wasn’t just the secrets or lies that seemed too big to bear. The mere act of riding into town had become a nightmare. Everywhere she looked, there had been signs of Neal. It was hard enough to separate the revered hero from the man she’d loved. But trying to connect a loving father with a man who’d robbed a stage was harder still. Neal had been so determined to set a good example for his children.
Never had she known Neal to miss Sunday worship. Nor had he let a day go by that he hadn’t practiced the Golden Rule. She hated thinking of Neal as a hypocrite, but there was no other way to explain his duplicity.
In two weeks, the new school would be dedicated in Neal’s name, and that only added to her nightmare. She hated the thought of little minds attending a school named after a man who appeared to be an outlaw. It was the school that had brought her to the mayor’s office.
Dressed in her Sunday-go-to-meeting best, she smoothed the front of her blue floral skirt and reached for the doorknob with a gloved hand. As she stepped into the small reception room, a thin, dark-haired man looked up from the desk and peered at her over the spectacles balanced on the tip of his nose.
“May I help you?”
She closed the door behind her and stepped forward. “I’m here to see Mayor Wrightwood,” she said.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
She stared at him and wondered when the mayor’s office had become so formal. “No, but it’s most urgent that I see him. My name is Mrs. Blackwell.”
That brought the man to his feet, looking apologetic. “Mrs. Blackwell, of course. I’ll tell the mayor you’re here.” With that, he vanished through a side door.
Minutes passed before the clerk reappeared and directed her into an adjacent office. As soon as she entered, Mayor Wrightwood’s hefty form rose in greeting from behind an oversized desk. With a wave of his hand, he motioned her to the ladder-back chair facing him.
He waited for her to sit before lowering his stout body onto his squeaking chair. “What an unexpected pleasure,” he said, cigar clamped between his thick lips.
Ellie-May pulled off her gloves and clutched her purse on her lap. After years of living under the shadow of a criminal father, it had been hard to adapt to her newfound status as a hero’s widow, but never more so than now. She doubted the mayor would have been so eager to see her if he knew what lay beneath her porch.
“Congratulations for winning the election,” she said. It had been a tough race, and many had been surprised that the mayor had managed to land a second term.
Wrightwood removed the cigar from his mouth and smiled. “Thank you,” he said, balancing his stogie on the edge of a copper ashtray. “I’m glad you came to see me, Mrs. Blackwell. Saves me a trip out to your farm.”
“Oh?”
“Just wanted to know if you’d like to say something.”
She sat back. “I’m sorry… Say something?”
“When we dedicate the new school. Thought you might like to speak on behalf of your late husband.”
“Oh no, I…” She cleared her throat and stammered, “I-I’m not very good at public speaking.” Even if she was, she wouldn’t know what to say. Finding that money had changed everything, including her feelings toward Neal and their marriage.
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
She would never take him up on his offer, but still she nodded. “Thank you.”
He studied her. “So what brings you here today?”
Anxious to state her business and leave, Ellie-May took a bracing breath. “About the school…”
“You mean the Neal Blackwell Grammar School?” the mayor said with a flourish of his hand.
It was clear by the note of pride in his voice that he considered the building and naming of the school one of his greatest achievements as mayor. That made Ellie-May’s job that much harder.
“I’ve been thinking about the school name,” she said.
His eyebrows shot upward. “Oh?”
She fell back on her carefully rehearsed speech. “My husband was a…humble man. Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she hastened to add. “He would appreciate everything the town has done for him, but I’m afraid he’d be a little…overwhelmed. Maybe even…embarrassed.” She had the mayor’s full attention as she continued. “For that reason, I think he wouldn’t want his name on the school.”
The mayor sat back. “Not want his name on the school?” he asked as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing.
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