A Man with a Past

by Mary Connealy

  “We caught the bad guys. I haven’t even told anybody. And that woman downstairs is Amelia Bishop, the woman Mrs. Hobart, the Pinkerton agent, was looking for.”

  “And where are these bad men you caught?”

  Molly sounded almost like she was being sarcastic.

  Cheyenne decided to ignore that. “We hauled four men into Bear Claw Pass, then brought Amelia home with us. We sent a message to the Hawkins Ranch for Hobart as well as messages to two other area ranches that we’d arrested four of their men. Well, not four of their men. Two of the men are dead, and one of those still alive is from the RHR. No matter, the ranchers need to come in. There are cattle to round up. We need to ride to town to talk to the sheriff, and Falcon and I decided we’d get married.”

  “What?” Molly squeaked.

  Cheyenne felt her face heat up at the same time she took some satisfaction in surprising snippy Molly.

  “I reckon we’ll get hitched when we get to town. But we aren’t going to town until I’m sure Wyatt is out of the woods.”

  A movement brought her eyes to the doorway.

  Falcon stood there, his usual rumpled self with messy hair, homespun clothes, and scruffy face. She was so in love with him.

  He smiled at her as if he knew her thoughts. “Rachel Hobart is here, and she headed straight for the room with your ma’s painting. That’s where Amelia is. I think she’s kinda tryin’ to hide. You want to come down and talk to them? We can’t let Amelia go until we’ve talked to the sheriff, and Hobart’s got a look in her eye that makes me wonder if she might just swipe her away, head east for Amelia’s family.”

  Cheyenne surged to her feet, then looked back at Wyatt. “I can’t leave him.”

  Molly sounded weary when she said, “Go on. I’ll call you if he gets upset again.”

  Someone really needed to take over and let Molly sleep. Maybe Hobart knew some doctoring. She’d probably had a solid night’s sleep.

  “I won’t be long.”

  Molly snorted.

  Cheyenne would have lost her temper and said a few things to remind Molly of whose house this was and that she was an intruder, but Cheyenne was afraid she’d stop wringing every ounce of her skill out to save Wyatt’s life, and besides, Cheyenne was too busy running for the stairs.

  “I told you to wait, consarn it!” Falcon rushed for the back door and slammed it shut just as Hobart was pulling it open, with Amelia firmly in hand.

  Rachel Hobart turned back, rolled her eyes, and, still with a firm grip on Amelia, led her captive—or her partner in the escape, Falcon wasn’t sure which—to the kitchen table. They sat down.

  Cheyenne asked Amelia, “Do you know how to cook?”

  “Yes, I’m a very good cook, why?”

  “Just asking. We’ll discuss it more later.” Cheyenne sat at the head of the table.

  “I told you we needed Amelia to explain what went on out there to the sheriff.” Falcon stomped around the table and sat down to face the pair. Amelia had a faint pink blush on her cheeks. She knew she’d been caught.

  Hobart looked as steady as stone. She only narrowed her eyes at Falcon. “You don’t need her. The sheriff will believe the story you and Cheyenne tell. We can catch the train if we hurry. Otherwise it might be a week. And I don’t want any trouble with Hawkins. He won’t be happy to have me quit, and he’ll be furious about Amelia.”

  Falcon slammed the side of his fist down hard on the table. “You’re staying. If it’s a week, then so be it. She’s staying.” Then he turned to look at Amelia. “We rescued you. We probably saved your life ’cuz you were gettin’ ready to light out, and those men might’ve killed you, fearin’ you’d talk, tell their secrets. We need you to tell your story to the sheriff before you go, and that’s that.”

  Amelia shrugged and slumped into her chair. “I just want to go home. I’m sure I’ve broken my mother’s heart, and my father has spent a fortune searching for me. My brother and father would never stop searching. I want to go home, end their grieving.”

  “Send a wire,” Cheyenne snapped.

  “Hobart, you can just ride on into town and wire her father with the good news,” Falcon said. “Tell him you’ll bring her home as soon as possible. He doesn’t know when the train comes through. Today or a week from today.”

  Then to Amelia, he said, “Are you trying to hide something? Are you going to end up locked up right alongside your husband’s outlaw friends? Seems strange to me you’d be so het up to leave, knowing there’ll be a lot of questions asked by the law. That’s a betrayal to my way of thinking, and we don’t deserve that. We might even have trouble making our case stand without you. Cheyenne and I might stand trial for murder if you leave.”

  Amelia straightened up and rested her elbows on the table. “I’m sorry. I just want to go home. Hobart wants this to be over. And I feel like the danger is still around. We shouldn’t have tried to run.”

  “You’re right about that.” Cheyenne shoved her chair back and stood up. “Amelia, we’ve got a lot of folks to feed, and my brother is upstairs fighting for his life. Make breakfast for about ten people. Falcon, stay and watch them so they don’t run off.” She strode toward the stairs. “And Hobart, whatever a Pinkerton is, for the last few months you’ve been a housekeeper, which should mean you can cook, too. Help Amelia. I’ve gotta take care of my brother.”

  Her feet pounding up the stairs drowned out any reply the two women might’ve had.

  THIRTY-SIX

  By midmorning Wyatt’s fever had gone down enough that he was lucid. He wasn’t happy, but he was awake and making sense—mostly.

  “They were planning to steal all four of the biggest ranches in the area?”

  “Yep. There was at least one man from each ranch in on it, but they might have partners. No one’s admitted that yet.” Cheyenne had told him twice, sitting on his bedside, holding the hand that wasn’t strapped down. She wasn’t sure if he was a bit addled from the fever or just stunned beyond belief.

  Falcon had left Andy downstairs to guard the women, who were cleaning up after the noon meal. Amelia Bishop and Rachel Hobart seemed to accept that they weren’t going anywhere. They’d also sent Rubin to keep an eye on the horses in case Andy wasn’t wily enough.

  Now Kevin and Win stood at the foot of Wyatt’s bed. Falcon leaned in the doorway behind them. Cheyenne was on Wyatt’s left and Molly on his right, still urging water into her patient and warm herb teas and broth, then bathing him with cool cloths.

  “I guess I can see how they’d think they could take over the Hawkins Ranch.” Wyatt swatted at the cloth Molly pressed to his forehead.

  Cheyenne controlled a flinch when she heard the easy acceptance of Oliver Hawkins’s weakness.

  “But how could they think they’d get their hands on this place? We’re not gonna just be run off.”

  “I think the rustling was the main crime all these years,” Falcon said.

  Nodding, Cheyenne said, “I think Ralston was doing it slow and steady, skimming off only a few so we’d never notice. I wonder how many he’s herded to town and sold over the years?”

  “We know that’s been going on a long time ’cuz of finding your bull in there,” Falcon went on. “Add in Ross and Tuttle and their grousing in town, and a little quiet rustling suddenly bloomed into a bigger plan.”

  “Hawkins they could kill easy.” Wyatt lifted his one working hand and held out his index finger. Then he held out a second finger. “Hanson was getting old on the HC with no heirs to deal with. But he’s a known man with strong connections. They’d’ve needed to make it look like an accident, and he’s a savvy old man. If they used the chaos of Pa’s will to take the RHR, that still marks them as fools for thinking Judd Black Wolf could be killed. That man’s tough and fierce.”

  “They said they’d hoped to get at least two of the ranches. I suspect they’d given up on Judd’s place.” Cheyenne squeezed Wyatt’s hand, so glad he seemed to be past the worst of it. But the fever ha
d come down once, then gone back up. She hoped this time it was down for good.

  “He’s got a reputation as a dangerous man,” Wyatt said. “But we don’t really know what’s going on over there. Maybe his cowhands are all in on it. Maybe he has enough traitors on his ranch they figured to win a fight against him.”

  They all fell silent for a time.

  Wyatt rubbed his shoulder gently. “Which one of them shot me?”

  “If they’re smart,” Falcon said, “they’ll blame it on one of the dead guys.”

  Molly eased Wyatt into a sitting position, and Cheyenne helped to hold him up.

  Molly brought a tin cup of water to his lips.

  Falcon said quietly, “Cheyenne and me’re gettin’ hitched today.”

  Wyatt spit water half the length of his bed. “You’re what?”

  He inhaled wrong or something and started choking.

  Cheyenne glared at Falcon. “Not the right time.”

  Molly patted Wyatt’s back until he started breathing right again.

  “You’re marrying my sister?”

  Falcon rubbed his forehead in a befuddled way. “Your brother’s marrying your sister.” He looked at Cheyenne. “We’re gonna have’ta explain this just right to the preacher, or he’ll kick up a fuss about the vows.”

  “It’ll be fine.” She hoped.

  “I thought we’d do it in town when we go talk to the sheriff. Cheyenne, maybe we had oughta go while Wyatt’s feeling good.”

  “You can’t marry him,” Wyatt said. “You’ve only known him a few days, and for most of it, he didn’t know his own name.”

  “I liked him real well without his memory, and now that he’s got it back, I like him still.”

  “Especially now that we’re sure I’m not a married man.”

  Wyatt shot straight up in bed. Then he grabbed at his shoulder with a yelp of pain.

  “You need to either shut up or get out of here.” Molly tried to get Wyatt to lie down again.

  “Ready, Cheyenne?” Falcon made a gesture to the hall as if he’d let her go first.

  “You thought he might be married, and you were already—” Wyatt batted Molly’s hands aside with his arm that wasn’t pinned tight to his body, and groaned in pain.

  “We were not already anything.” Cheyenne talked before he could say more. “Leastways, not exactly.” Cheyenne wanted to look at Falcon, but he wasn’t helping.

  “Get out, all of you.” Molly stepped back from Wyatt’s agitated motions, scowling, hands on her hips as she seemed to be considering what to do to get him to be still.

  “They’re not going anywhere. Over my dead body.”

  “Well, considering your dead body was almost upon us last night”—Cheyenne patted him on his good shoulder—“I take that threat seriously. But we’re getting married. I admire Falcon’s woodland skills. He’s a strong man I can respect and who’ll work hard at my side and be good protection for me and any children we may have. I want to marry him, and I’m going to.”

  It was quite a little speech.

  “You’re just doing it to get a third of the ranch back. And Kevin already gave you his third.” Wyatt was reminding her he was a pesky little brother.

  “I think his bullet wound has started bleeding again.” Molly leaned so her face was right in front of Wyatt’s. “You need to be still.”

  “I do think, if my figurin’ is correct,” Falcon said, “that my ma might’ve still been alive when Clovis married your ma, Wyatt. I would need to think on it some, try and pin down the year she died, and I don’t know what year your ma hitched up with Pa. If they had you right away and you’re six or eight years younger’n me . . .”

  Falcon stopped and scratched his head. “I don’t rightly know just how old I am. But I know how old I was when she died. I think Pa’s marriage to your ma isn’t legal, which means Pa’s will isn’t legal. So you go back to the original will your ma left, and this ranch is divided between you and Cheyenne. She won’t get my third. I’ll get her half. And anyway, I have no interest in being a rancher, so it don’t matter to me how much of a ranch I own.”

  Molly looked at Kevin. “If the will isn’t legal, then we’re out.” She sounded chipper about that.

  Cheyenne couldn’t believe how many people didn’t want her ranch.

  “I’ll get packed up just as soon as we’re sure Wyatt is going to live.” Molly looked ready to start filling up her satchel right now. “I’ll get the job at the school. Kevin, you get a job in town. I’ll live with the parson, and you and Win can find a place to live until you can afford some farmland. Andy can either come with you or stay here and be a cowpoke. Unless, Win, you want to go to your home and take Kevin there. Live on your pa’s land. It’s bound to be yours one day.”

  “Kevin and I are going to be farmers on a corner of this ranch.” She met Cheyenne’s eyes. “If we don’t own a piece of it, we’ll buy a few acres just off the RHR. I’d like to stay close to you all, and Kevin would like to stay close to Molly if she’s teaching in town. I have my schoolteacher money. I never spent much of it, so we can afford to buy a few acres.”

  “Now, Win.” Kevin sounded embarrassed. “A man hadn’t oughta let his wife—”

  “Out.” Molly shooed her hands at them. “Except I need more ice. And Win, can you mix up more herbs? And—” The general was back in command of her patient.

  Falcon grabbed Cheyenne’s hand and dragged her out of the room. “Let’s go to town before Sheriff Corly lets the prisoners go.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.” Cheyenne wasn’t absolutely sure though. “And we need Amelia and probably Rachel.”

  They rounded them up and lit out for Bear Claw Pass.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I’m a married man.” Falcon was having a hard time not just beaming down at Cheyenne as they rode back to the RHR.

  The prisoners were locked up tight. Sheriff Corly was satisfied with Cheyenne’s story, backed up by Falcon and Amelia. And Jeff Wells had confessed to everything, as a man who’d just gotten in on a plot in recent days often does. He’d pointed the finger at his cell mate and named off a few other traitors. None on the RHR, but a few on the other ranches. It sounded like half the men on the Hawkins Ranch were in on this. Oliver Hawkins was a poor judge of cowhands.

  Sonny Bender was mad as a rabid polecat. They had to move Wells to the second cell in fear for his life. Both Bender and Wells denied shooting Wyatt. That left Mathers and Ralston. The sheriff decided to blame them since no one could prove otherwise.

  Amelia had sent her wire home. The sheriff said she and Rachel could catch the train to Minnesota when it came through, and then Oliver Hawkins showed up and threw everything into chaos.

  Finally, Oliver went along with the posse to arrest a bunch of his hands while the deputy stayed to watch the prisoners.

  Enough men came around to join the posse that they were able to hold a trial right off, and the sheriff sent a wire to get a transport to take the men they rounded up to Laramie for the hanging.

  And tucked into all of that, Falcon had married the most beautiful, smartest, toughest woman he’d ever heard tell of.

  “We need a cabin.” Falcon found himself wanting time alone with his wife. He wanted it something fierce.

  “I’ve got to make sure Wyatt is all right, b-but—” Cheyenne looked at him. She was deeply tanned, but under it she was blushing.

  “But what?” He thought he knew. He might’ve felt a little heat in his own face.

  “Well, it’s just, well, it seems to me . . . it’s . . .” In a rush she said, “You can stay in my room. With me.”

  She blinked at him. Those black eyes almost burning into his. The color running high under her tan.

  “I don’t want to do that. Stay in that house with folks all over everywhere.”

  “There’s really only two. Wyatt and Molly.”

  “That’s two too many.”

  “Haven’t you been sleeping in the bunkhouse?”


  “Yep, and we’re not staying there.” They rode in silence for a while. He said, “We could camp out?”

  Cheyenne didn’t answer right away. “Do you think we’ve caught everyone who was trying to kill us?”

  “Stands to reason Norm shot Wyatt, but there’s no proof of that. If it wasn’t him, it was Bender, I suppose. No surprise he’d blame it on someone else. It wasn’t Rachel, like we thought, nor Ralston, nor Amelia.”

  Cheyenne reached from her horse to his. “I don’t feel like I can go off just yet. Not until I’m sure Wyatt’s all right. I suspect I’ll spend the night tending to him, so we won’t have what you’d think of as a proper wedding night.”

  Her hand tightened on his arm until he flinched. Then she turned those beautiful black eyes on him. “But if I do get a few hours’ sleep, I’d like to have you beside me, Falcon. Can you please stay in the house with me?”

  “There ain’t much I’d say no to you about, Mrs. Hunt.”

  “I’m a Hunt.” Cheyenne shook her head almost violently. “Well, at least it’s only by a roundabout way that it’s because of Clovis.”

  Falcon laughed. He shifted so she was torn loose of his arm, and he held her hand as they rode along.

  “I’m a man who’s never had much family, Cheyenne. My ma and me alone until I was barely old enough to fend for myself in the wilderness. Then once I was growed up, Patsy for a short while. But more than anything, I’ve lived my life alone.”

  She squeezed his hand tight.

  “For a time, I didn’t even have a past I could remember. But now, I’m a man with a past, and a future with you. More important, I’ve got right now. I believe myself to be the luckiest, most blessed man alive to be mixed up in the Hunt clan.”

  “Losing my ranch, losing what I saw as my future, led me to you, or better to say led you to me.” She looked at him, enjoying those brown eyes streaked with gold.