Greeting her with a nod, Matt touched a finger to his hat brim before turning his attention to the sheriff. “What’d he do?” he asked.
The sheriff scoffed. “Accused the mayor of stuffing the ballot box to win the last election, that’s what.”
Matt turned his gaze on the boy. “Those are fighting words, son.”
“It’s true!” Jesse said with a defiant look at the sheriff. “I saw him with my own eyes.”
Keeler looked about to argue, but Matt stopped him by slapping a banknote on his desk. The sheriff regarded the bill with raised eyebrows before turning to Jesse. “You’re free to go.”
Matt gave the boy a stern look. “Go home. We’ll talk later.”
Jesse darted past the three adults like a mouse pursued by a hungry cat. Leaving the office, he slammed the door shut with such force, the windows rattled.
Cursing beneath his breath, the sheriff pulled the chair away from his desk and sat. “That boy’s trouble, and this ain’t the end of it.”
Having nothing more to say to the sheriff, Ellie-May met Matt’s gaze and was once again reminded of his commanding presence. “T-thank you,” she stammered. Matt’s generosity had kept Jesse out of jail and saved her from doing what would have surely been a mistake. The banknote in her purse weighing heavily on her conscience, she turned to leave.
Much to her dismay, Matt rushed to open the door for her. Even more disturbing, he followed her outside.
11
Ellie-May took off like a mustang with its tail afire, and Matt practically had to run to catch up to her.
She glanced at him as he fell in step by her side. The look of gratitude she had shown him moments earlier when he’d paid Jesse’s fine had now been replaced with something that looked like suspicion. Maybe even fear.
“I didn’t expect to see you back in town,” she said.
“I didn’t expect to come back.” He regarded her from beneath arched eyebrows. “But it seems like you and I have something in common.”
“Oh?”
“We both care about Jesse.”
She stopped upon reaching her horse and wagon. Clutching her bag as if her life depended upon it, she turned to face him. A straw bonnet framed her delicate face but failed to hide the strained expression of someone facing a hangman’s rope.
“You came back because of Jesse?” she asked, clearly surprised.
He shrugged. “What can I say? The lad grows on you.” That part was true, at least. He wasn’t about to divulge that the real reason for his return involved her deceased husband. Not yet.
Her blue eyes darkened with emotion. “He is a good boy,” she said. “I don’t care what the sheriff says. He’s doing the best he knows how.” She heaved a sigh before adding, “His ma was a friend of mine.”
Matt studied her. Her blue floral frock showed off her tiny waist and gentle curves to full advantage, but it was the gold-flecked sadness in her eyes that commanded his attention. Was the look there because she missed her husband? It had only been a little over a year…
“He is a good boy,” he said. “And he should be in school. He has a bright mind. With the right guidance, he could make something of himself. But convincing him to continue his education will be a problem. He’s determined to be a Ranger.”
She looked at him through a fringe of dark lashes. “No doubt he thinks that what you do is more interesting than sitting in a classroom.”
Recalling his own youthful beliefs on the subject, Matt shook his head. “He might think that, but he would be wrong. Sleeping in tents and spending long, tedious hours in the saddle is anything but glamorous.”
She assessed him long and hard, as if seeing him for the first time. “Then why do it?” she asked. “What made you choose to be a Ranger?”
He narrowed his gaze. This was hardly the conversation he’d expected to have with her, or with anyone, for that matter. Most people knew better than to inquire about a man’s past. Regardless, he surprised himself by answering her.
“When I was fifteen, my pa was shot during a holdup,” he began, further surprising himself with his candor. He’d not talked of his pa’s death in years—fifteen years, to be exact. It was no easier now to voice the words than it had been in those first early days. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, the need to say them had never been greater. “He’d gone to the general store for kerosene and never came back.”
As he spoke, her expressive blue eyes turned into two pools of sympathy. For the first time since meeting her, he sensed her lowering her guard.
“How awful for you,” she said, her voice as soft and comforting as a summer breeze.
Awful didn’t begin to describe the aftermath of what had happened. His mother had taken her husband’s death so hard, she had been confined to a sickbed and never fully recovered.
“They never found the culprit,” he said. “That’s the reason I joined the Rangers. I figured if I could catch enough criminals, put enough outlaws in jail, it would make up for the one who might never be caught.”
A thoughtful expression crossed her face before she asked, “How many?”
He raised a single eyebrow. “What?”
“How many criminals will it take to make up for what happened to your pa?”
He sighed and clamped down on his jaw. There weren’t enough outlaws in the world to make up for losing his father. He hadn’t known that in his late teens when he first joined the Rangers. But he knew it now.
“A lot,” he said vaguely.
She pulled her gaze from his and lowered her lashes. “I hope you catch whatever number it takes,” she said.
Though she’d sounded like she meant it, he sensed her putting up her guard again. Just like that, their newly established rapport had vanished, leaving him feeling oddly lost. Her sudden pulling away brought a depth of disappointment to him that had nothing to do with him being a lawman. It was more personal, more worrisome, more something…
“Thank you,” he said, surprised to find himself wishing things could be different between them. Wishing they had met under very different circumstances. Wishing he wasn’t driven to right a wrong that he now knew could never be made right.
Her lashes flew up as if she, too, had noticed the change between them.
A strange emotion that he couldn’t decipher shadowed her face. Once again, her withdrawal felt like a door had been slammed shut between them. That was a good thing. A very good thing. For it reminded him that she was a suspect’s widow and he had a job to do.
“I better go,” she said.
He shortened the distance between them. “Before you go…I need to talk to you about something.”
She raised her fine eyebrows. “Oh?”
“I talked to the Petersons,” he said slowly, gauging her reaction. “They said your husband never showed up for the barn raising.” Watching her closely, he paused for a moment. “Have you any idea why he didn’t?”
She shook her head and drew in a ragged breath. “No,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I have no idea. It was a long time ago.”
“Just thought I’d ask,” he said.
She looked up at him with a glazed look of despair. “If there’s nothing more…?”
“That’s all,” he said.
She turned to her wagon so abruptly, she dropped her purse and gasped in dismay.
They bent at the same time to pick up the purse, but he reached it first. He brushed the dust off the soft black leather before handing it to her. Their fingers touched for a mere second, but it was enough to bring a pretty flush to her cheeks.
“T-thank you,” she stammered, refusing to meet his eyes. Grabbing hold of the wagon’s handrail, she hoisted herself onto the driver’s seat.
Looking up at her, he tipped his hat. “Always a pleasure,” he said.
Not bothering to return
the sentiment, she tugged on the reins and drove off. He wondered if it was only his imagination, but it sure did seem like even the sunlight was less brilliant now that she was gone.
Shaking away the disturbing thought, he turned and headed back to his horse. The lady had secrets. Of that he was certain. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were.
* * *
Ellie-May raced her horse and wagon out of town. Fortunately, it was still early and the road relatively empty. Nevertheless, she garnered startled looks from shopkeepers sweeping doorsteps and a few pedestrians racing to get out of her way.
Matt Taggert had made her nervous—and it hadn’t just been the incriminating evidence on her person, though that was a big part of it. She’d wanted to die when he’d picked up her purse. What if it had fallen open and he’d recognized the banknote inside?
She felt sick just thinking about it. It was bad enough that he now knew Neal had no alibi during the time of the robbery. Had he found her with stolen goods, there would have been no saving Neal.
But that wasn’t the only thing that worried her. Whenever she was near him, her pulse raced, and her nerves threatened to snap. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel both womanly and girlish. Made her feel pretty, even. Made her feel special.
Not good. As long as he was in town, she needed to keep her wits about her at all times, especially in his presence.
She wasn’t sure how or why he made her feel so fluttery. Certainly, it wasn’t just his good looks or crooked smile. Maybe it was simply the power he had to destroy Neal’s reputation—the power to bring her children’s world tumbling down. Maybe that was what kept her nerves on edge.
She didn’t want to think it was the way he looked at her at times. Like he could see into her very soul. Like he knew what was in her heart and could dredge up her darkest secrets.
With those troubling thoughts whirling in her head, she drove the horse and wagon back to the farm. Reaching the house, she tugged on the reins and gasped. Anvil was bent over the porch step and hammering away. Had he found the gunnysack?
Last night, she hadn’t wanted to wake the children, so she’d simply retrieved a banknote and gently tapped the tread back in place. She had intended to do a more complete job of the step today while Lionel and Alicia were in school.
Setting the brake, she jumped to the ground.
Anvil straightened as she neared and tossed the hammer into his toolbox. “The dang thing came loose again,” he said, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “You okay?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
He brushed his damp forehead with the back of his hand. “All I knows is that you came barrelin’ up the road like you were runnin’ for your life.”
“I was just…anxious to get home. I have a lot of things to do.”
Anvil lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his graying hair. “Do you have a moment?”
He looked and sounded so serious, she was convinced he’d found the money.
She bit her lower lip and nodded. How in the world could she explain the loot without making Neal look bad?
She struggled to find her voice. “Yes, of course, Anvil. What is it?”
He replaced his hat. “It’s that Roberts fella.”
She stared at him. “Roberts? What about him?”
“Hope you don’t mind, but I told him to go and not come back.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.” It wasn’t like Anvil to make such decisions without consulting her. “Why?”
“He weren’t here as no friend, I can tell you that. All he was doing was pokin’ around. Like he was lookin’ for something.”
Though it was hot, cold shivers shot down her back. It wasn’t what she had wanted to hear. If Roberts was looking for something, that could mean only one thing—he knew about the stolen money. If he knew, who else knew? Oh God, who else?
“Like…like what?” she asked cautiously. “What do you think he was looking for?”
“Don’t know, and he sure in blazes wasn’t talkin’.” Anvil shook his head and hung his thumbs from the straps of his overalls. “Hopefully, we’ve seen the last of him.”
Ellie-May gripped her purse tight. Was it possible that Roberts and Neal had been in cahoots? The thought made her stomach turn over in dismay, and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
“The Texas Ranger is back in town,” she said. He’d told her he’d come back for Jesse’s sake, but she wondered if that were true. It was hard to believe that a man as driven as Matt Taggert would take time away from his job to help a young boy.
Anvil raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Not sure of how much or little to say, she moistened her lips. “Anvil…you…you don’t think that Neal had anything to do with that stage robbery, do you?”
Anvil’s eyes grew round as brass buttons. “Glory be, Miss Ellie-May. What would make you think such a thing?”
She drew in her breath. “You said that Roberts was looking for something. If he thought that Neal—”
Anvil shook his head, and his gray eyes met hers. “Whatever Roberts has on his mind, it has nothing to do with Neal.”
He said exactly what she needed to hear, and she afforded him a smile of gratitude. “You’re right, of course.”
“You’re darn tootin’ I’m right.” He gathered up his toolbox. “I’ll take care of your horse and wagon.” He studied her a moment. “Don’t you go worryin’ none, you hear?”
Nodding, she clutched her purse in both hands and watched him drive her wagon to the barn, her troubled thoughts whirling in her head. Now that Matt Taggert was back in town, how could she not worry?
* * *
Matt had no trouble finding the James place. Situated just outside town at the base of a bleak hill, the small house was built of logs and roofed with shingles.
Next to it, a large sycamore leaned to the side as if looking for a place to fall. The small yard was fenced by a crooked picket fence that was more hindrance than barrier.
Dismounting, he tied his horse to a wooden post and let himself through the rusty iron gate. The walkway to the house was covered in weeds. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, but otherwise, all was quiet.
Matt had to knock several times before the door finally creaked opened. It was hard to get a look at Jesse’s face through the curtain of long hair, but it sure did look like he’d been sleeping. Matt felt bad for waking him, but what he had to say couldn’t wait.
“We need to talk,” Matt said. Brushing past Jesse, he planted himself in the middle of the drab parlor. The room was dimly lit, and it took a moment for Matt’s eyes to adjust.
A sagging sofa faced a stone fireplace and offered a startling contrast to the intricately carved oak tables that flanked each upholstered arm. A copy of the Police Gazette—or Bachelor’s Bible, as it was called—yawned open upon the sofa. The air smelled stale and musty.
Turning to face the boy, Matt felt his irritation drain away. Instead, his anger was directed at the boy’s neglectful pa. The boy had dreams, and anyone who could harbor a dream in such depressing surroundings deserved a break. That made him feel even more responsible for Jesse’s safety and well-being.
“From now on, you’re not to conduct any investigations on your own. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from the sheriff. Do you hear me?”
Jesse crossed his arms, a defiant look on his face. “What gives you the right to tell me what I can do? You ain’t my pa.”
“Five dollars gives me the right,” Matt said. “And until you pay me back the money you owe me for paying your fine, I have the right to tell you what you can and cannot do. Understood?”
Looking cornered as a trapped mouse, Jesse gave a reluctant nod, and his gaze dropped to the floor.
“You must have good, solid proof b
efore you go around accusing people of crimes.” Matt hated being so stern with the boy, but it was for his own good.
Jesse looked up. “But I saw the mayor stuff the ballot boxes with my own two eyes.”
“It’s still your word against his.” Since Jesse looked like he was on the verge of tears, Matt softened his stance along with his voice. “Things aren’t always what they seem. That’s why you need good, solid proof before you go around making accusations.”
Jesse frowned. “How am I gonna get proof? Huh?”
“Far as the mayor’s concerned, there probably isn’t any tangible proof.”
Looking more lost than defiant, Jesse’s shoulders slumped forward. “You mean he gets away with cheating?”
“Looks that way,” Matt said. His father’s death taught him one bitter truth—not every crime is punished. “Now you know what makes a Ranger’s job so tough.”
Satisfied that he had the boy’s cooperation—or at least less resistance—Matt tried to decide what to do with him. If the man Jesse overheard talking to Blackwell did indeed exist, Matt would need help finding him. Unfortunately, that meant having to depend on the boy’s help, and that wasn’t something he’d wanted to do.
“From now on, the only undercover work you do is for me,” Matt said against his better judgment. “Understood?”
Jesse lifted his gaze. “Are you gonna pay me?”
“No, you’re gonna work with me till your debt is paid. You owe me five dollars, remember?” That didn’t even begin to cover the cost of feeding and clothing him. “Always pay your debts. Consider it a rule.”
Looking more like himself, Jesse rolled his eyes. “You sure do have a lot of rules.”
“Yeah, and if you want to do Ranger work, you best follow them.” Matt held out his hand. “So what do you say? Deal?”
Jesse stared at Matt’s offered hand for a moment before shaking it. “Deal.”
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