Cassandra Austin (7 page)

“Just ride right on out.” She didn’t turn away.

“I promise not to worry about you ever again.”

“Never did make sense.”

He nodded and after another moment started to leave. Turning back, he tried one last time. “Cally, one night isn’t really giving it a chance.”

“Forget it, Haywood. I went into town last night to get rid of you. It’s not my fault you didn’t leave like you said. You’d be on the road to wherever, none the wiser, if the Gwynn sisters hadn’t squealed. Or did you stop by their house to say goodbye?”

Andrew couldn’t resist a grin. “They squealed. Was that the plan all along, to agree to go then run back as soon I left town?”

“Not all along. Only after you shut poor Royal in the barn.”

Andrew took a deep breath. “Take care of yourself, then.”

“Always have.”

He tipped his hat and turned. This time he mounted and reined the mare around, leaving the farm. Cally watched him go and found herself smiling. Well, she had to kind of like him. Foolish as it was, he did worry about her. No one else ever had much.

“Wonder how long he’ll be gone,” she said to Royal as she put the shotgun away. “What you reckon he’s doing, anyway? Maybe he’s gonna add another ugly mug to that collection on his wall.”

She laughed. “Reckon he would’a hung my picture up there if he had got me to stay at the old ladies’.” She reached down and scratched the dog’s ears. “Would’a been about as bad as being shot.”

*   *   *

Andrew could see the town of Topeka in the distance. It had been a long, tiring and, so far, fruitless trip. The lawmen in Abilene and Chapman had no new information. They had all received telegrams from Marshal Yates at the time of the escape, but none of them had heard anything about the marshal’s posse since.

Someone at Yates’s office would have gotten word from the posse by now. He had to face the fact that it was probably beyond his reach. He slowed the horse to a walk as he entered the dimly lit street. Morning would be soon enough to get the answers; now he needed rest.

A sign across the boardwalk ahead advertised a livery stable. No one was around so he helped himself to some oats, planning to tally it in the morning. He unsaddled the mare and as he rubbed her down his mind was on Stedwell and Terris. He was convinced that they wouldn’t travel far before going into hiding. They had surely known where they were headed before they broke out.

Somehow, he had expected to figure out more than that. All these days of solitude had provided him with ample time to think. Knowing their past history, he should have figured out where they would go, what they would hope to do. Hell, for all he knew they could have headed for the Black Hills gold mines, or silver towns in Arizona. He had no idea.

However, during those same days of solitude, he had become completely convinced that the rain had caused Cally’s roof to cave in, wolves had attacked
her livestock and a prairie fire had burned her barn to the ground.

As he turned the mare into the corral, he cursed himself for a fool. He had passed up a bed in Abilene the first night in an effort to get a few more miles down the road. He had pushed himself and his mare harder than necessary because of this feeling that he had been away too long.

As he walked the short distance to the hotel, he realized that between his deputy’s sick wife and his misguided concern for Cally, he had missed an awful lot of sleep. Women caused lawmen at least as much trouble as the outlaws. He had always known it, but he had fallen into the trap anyway.

He shoved the hotel door open and practically stomped to the desk. “One room, one night,” he said to the young clerk.

“Yes, sir.” The clerk trembled as he turned the register toward him and handed him a pen. “Anything else, sir?”

“No.” Andrew took the key that the clerk offered and headed for the steps. He heard the clerk call the directions to the room after him. Inside, he dropped his gear on a chair by the door and lit a gaslight. He had to get that little gal settled safely someplace before he drove himself crazy from worry and lack of sleep.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a small framed mirror and did a double take. He looked halfdemented already. Five days’ growth of beard hid half his face. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken. No wonder the clerk was nervous. He would probably scare little Cally to death.

He moaned and turned from the mirror. Why couldn’t he get Cally off his mind? Hadn’t he promised himself not to worry about her? How long had he kept that promise? A day? An hour?

He stripped off his dusty clothes and turned down the light. The bed was comfortable, a perfect opportunity to catch up on much-needed sleep. In fact, what would it hurt if he slept until noon? He didn’t have to get up to milk a cow. He shook off the image of Cally waking him as she came to the barn to do just that.

“Sleep.” He murmured the command as his exhaustion finally caught up with him.

That same night, in a little rented house in Abilene, Val Milton paced his upstairs bedroom while he waited for his woman to join him. Fancy was busy downstairs making sure their guests had everything they needed. He thanked God he had had a few days warning before her brother and his cell mate had shown up at his door, and the back door at that. Fancy had actually warned him that Parker would be breaking out of prison half a day before it happened.

He smiled to himself. He had a feeling her knowledge went beyond just an advance warning. Fancy’s willingness to jump into unusual situations was one of the best things about her. He had always considered her jailbird brother one of the worst. He had even thought about leaving her when she first came back from Leavenworth with this latest bit of news. But Fancy Stedwell was a little hard to leave.

Fancy had always been honest with him, as far as he knew. She had told him about her brother when
they first hooked up. She made irregular visits to Leavenworth, never suggesting he go along. He should have guessed it would come to this eventually.

Val walked to the window and leaned against the frame, gazing into the street. Lamplight filtered through dirty windows and smoky doorways onto the boardwalk and street. In another hour the games would be getting interesting, and he would join them. Abilene had been profitable, but it was probably time to move on.

He had discovered, to his surprise, that he kind of liked Fancy’s brother, Parker. The man’s suggestion that they rob a bank in Salina and frame Sheriff Haywood kept coming back to him. Stedwell had been half-joking, but Val smelled an opportunity. He hadn’t worked it all out yet, but he would.

This cell mate, Wade Terris, was a different matter. He was equally determined to seek revenge on Sheriff Haywood. In fact, that seemed the one thing the two escapees had in common. Haywood had been key in both their arrests, and they blamed him rather than their own ineptness.

Val was certain that Terris didn’t understand finesse. The fool would probably rather march into Salina and murder the lawman. Never mind that it would land him right back in prison, or worse.

He heard Fancy’s light step on the stairs and turned to the door as it opened. Fancy was dressed in a highnecked gown of deep blue satin that hugged her shapely body clear to her thighs before flaring into a full skirt. Her bustle wagged at him as she turned to close the door. Fancy could make the most modest fashions look decadent.

“Are they settled in?” he asked as he watched her walk toward him.

“I think so. I’m sorry about this, Val,” she said, her blue eyes smoldering seductively. “He is my brother. Can he stay with us for a few days, at least?”

“It’s all right, Fancy,” he said, opening his arms for her. Fancy never simply stepped into his arms, she slid up against him—just a little. He smiled down at her. “Will you come with me tonight?”

She ran her tongue across his jaw. “Do you want me to?” She pretended an interest in his cravat and diamond stickpin, her long fingernails scratching the cloth.

“You know I do.” He lifted her face, and added before he captured her lips, “You’re my luck.”

She squirmed closer against him. When he released her mouth she asked breathlessly, “Are you in a hurry?”

“Never.”

By the time Andrew walked into the marshal’s office at eight the next morning, he had shaved and bathed and felt like himself again. The secretary looked up, and Andrew introduced himself, asking, “Has there been any word from Yates’s posse?”

“Mr. Yates will be glad to see you, sir.” The young man stood and tapped on the inner office door. He stuck his head inside and in a moment motioned Andrew forward.

“Andy,” greeted the big man, coming to his feet behind his desk.

“I didn’t expect to find you here, Ken.” Andrew shook the offered hand.

Yates indicated a chair and returned to his own. “You thought we’d still be out after Terris and Stedwell. I hate to say it, Andy, but we gave it up. There was just no trail to follow. Is that what brought you here?”

Andrew nodded. “Stedwell led us on a merry chase last time. Not to mention the trouble Terris caused. I expected to get word of the posse before I got this far.”

“Figured to join ‘em, huh?” Yates’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “Sorry to disappoint you, Andy. They holed up somewhere, I guess.”

“Any idea where? Or with whom?”

Yates sighed. “The only lead we had was a visitor a couple days before the escape. An old woman who gave her name as Mrs. Luella Canary got permission to visit Stedwell. We’ve been trying to find out who she is and where she came from but so far it seems to be a dead end.”

“Do you have a description?”

“Not much of one, I’m afraid.”

Andrew was thoughtful for a moment. “I’d like to talk to the prison guards who saw this visitor.” It would take two more days to ride to Leavenworth. Two more days before he could start home. He caught himself as his mind added,
Home to Cally.

“Do you think Stedwell and Terris will stick together?” he asked.

Yates shook his head. “They don’t make a likely pair, do they? It’s hard to tell, though. They might admire each other’s talents.”

“And may plan to put them to use for their mutual benefit.” Andrew was silent a moment. “I’ve come
this far, I guess I’ll head on to Leavenworth. If you hear anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“Of course, Andy. Are you thinking this could get personal?”

Andrew smiled at his old friend. “Crossed my mind.”

Andrew started to rise, and Yates stood as well. “I still think you should have stayed with us instead of settling for one little county where every time you turn around you’re running for reelection,” he said, walking with Andrew toward the door.

“I wanted to settled down.”

“Did you?”

The question took Andrew by surprise. “Sort of, I guess.” They shook hands, and Andrew headed for the hotel to get his gear.

Val turned up two recent issues of a Salina paper. He sat in front of the dining room window, letting the afternoon sun warm his propped-up legs, while he browsed through them. Wade Terris sat sullenly in the shadows across the room. Val deliberately ignored him. It seemed the best way to treat the man. With half an ear, he listened to the brother and sister talk in the kitchen. Fancy’s occasional giggle brought a smile to his lips.

There wasn’t much of interest happening in Salina, he decided, and the editor of this particular paper was not very imaginative. A nice feud always made for better copy. He had no idea what he hoped to find, anyway. He was about to fold up the paper when a name caught his eye. Francis DuBois. Why did that name ring a bell?

T
he article read:

Francis DuBois died last night in the county jail. He was there awaiting execution for manslaughter in relation to the death of Harley Nichols. In the opinion of this editor, the men were two of a kind and the community will miss neither. DuBois leaves a grown daughter still at home and a small farmstead which will doubtless come up for sale in the near future.

“Francis DuBois,” Val murmured. He rose and crossed the room to the writing desk. From a drawer he lifted a stack of papers, IOUs, most of which were too small to bother collecting. He had looked through them a day or so earlier, when he first thought of leaving town. He shuffled through them quickly. “Francis DuBois,” he said, dropping all but one of the papers back in the drawer.

“Who the hell is that?” Terris asked.

Val waved a hand at the man to stop him from
interrupting his train of thought. The IOU was only for twenty-five dollars, but Stedwell’s talents could make it for far more, with the man’s little homestead as collateral. That would provide them with a base of operations, give him a reason for being in Salina and get them started on their plans. By God, they would rob a bank and frame the sheriff. Only Val Milton would make a few plans of his own.

But first he and these two convicts had to come to an understanding. He had to convince them to trust him, and that wouldn’t be easy. Val paced to the window and looked out. He could guess that Terris was watching him. If he became partners with these men, they would want to know what he stood to gain. Helping them out of the goodness of his heart wasn’t going to be credible.

There was laughter from the kitchen. He turned toward it, thinking. Could he convince them that love was his motive? Without a word, he walked into the kitchen. Terris quickly followed. “Fancy, run down to the butcher and see if he has any pork chops.”

Fancy’s lips pouted. “I don’t want to cook. Let’s get dinner from the restaurant again.”

“We don’t want them wondering why we have guests again tonight, baby.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Stop at the bakery, too.” At her pretty frown he added, “I’ll do the cooking, if you’ll do the shopping.”

Fancy came to her feet, finally relenting. As he opened the wallet to count out some money she lifted it all from his fingers. “I’ll see what else I can find,” she whispered as she passed him.

Val smiled after her. She could easily spend every
dollar in that wallet, but it didn’t really matter. “I hope she saves back enough for the chops,” he said as he heard the front door close.

“Pretty free with your money,” Stedwell commented.

Val shrugged. “Is this talk of getting even with Haywood for real?”

The men glanced at each other. It was Stedwell who spoke. “It’s for real. Do you have an idea?”

“Your idea, actually. Let’s take the bank in Salina and frame Haywood. Let him have a taste of what you two have experienced.”

“Sounds good,” said Stedwell. “You got a grudge against this sheriff, too?”

Val shook his head.

“Then why help us?”

His fledgling plan could depend on the next few moments. “All I want is your promise to leave Fancy alone. Don’t contact her in any way.” Stedwell looked startled, and Val continued. “She broke you out of prison. No, she didn’t tell me, but I can guess. That’s a federal offense, man! She could wind up in prison! Do you want that for your sister?”

“Hey, we never asked for her help,” Terris argued.

“You didn’t need to.” Val leaned toward Stedwell. “She’d help her brother if he needed help. I don’t want her to even know where you are. If I help you set up this sheriff, you disappear from her life and never contact her again.”

Val could tell that Stedwell was shocked. He was faintly aware that he should feel guilty about doing this to Fancy, but he had never found his conscience strong enough to make him uncomfortable. He gave
Stedwell a moment to think it over. When he thought the man was about to resist Val added, “It’s what you would do anyway if you cared about her.”

Andrew passed the sketch across the table to the guard. He had found three guards who had seen Stedwell’s last visitor. He had tried his best to draw the old women each of them described. The three sketches didn’t look much alike. One odd thing they had in common, though, was a decidedly youthful jaw and neck. His fourth sketch, based on all three descriptions, was a young woman with stage makeup and a wig. The first two guards had agreed that it was the woman. Andrew watched the third guard now as he studied it.

“Well, maybe,” he conceded. “But I really thought she was old.” He passed the sketch back to Andrew, scowling. “She walked so bent over, you know, and her voice was kind of cracked like.”

Andrew nodded, satisfied. He didn’t see any need to push the guard into an admission that he had been fooled. He thanked him for his time and headed back to the hotel, eager to start home.

By the time he tied the saddlebag behind the saddle, the idea of riding back the way he had come seemed decidedly unappealing. After a moment’s reflection, he mounted and headed toward the train station.

When the next westbound train pulled away from the siding Andrew’s mare was in a stock car and Andrew was settled in a passenger coach. He pulled his hat over his eyes and shifted his shoulders against the hard seat back, trying to make himself comfortable.

Yes, this had been a wise decision. There was no need now to be ready to ride off in any direction. Both he and his mare deserved a rest. He hadn’t chosen the train because it would make better time getting home. He wasn’t worried that he had been away too long. He wasn’t even going to check on Cally when he got back.

Unless she had left word for him. Or had decided to move in with the Gwynns while he was gone. Or there had been another storm. Or any reports of… well…anything.

He groaned aloud and crossed his arms. He would think about his work. He had had the newspaper repeat the notice that he wanted to hire a second deputy. This time he had listed some minimum qualifications. There ought to have been some response by now.

Maybe he should try advertising for a husband for Cally. He imagined the notice.

Wanted: One husband for independent, ill-tempered, uneducated, poorly dressed female. Must not be afraid of shotguns.

He chuckled aloud. In the same ad, he would list her good qualities.

Can cook and care for animals. Willing to guard homestead. Loyal.

Andrew sobered. Loyal. He had never seen anyone more loyal to kin than Cally. She had the same loyalty to her pets and even her old cow. A man could do
worse than find a loyal wife. If she would transfer that loyalty to him—

Andrew gritted his teeth. His mind wandered in the most foolish directions. Of course he knew it was brought on by lack of sleep. He had pushed himself hard the past few days. If he could catch up on his sleep during this trip home, he could go back to being the competent sheriff the people of Saline County deserved.

Unfortunately, that was a big if.

Haywood sat in his office going through a stack of Wanted posters. None of them looked familiar. When he had gone all the way through them he stacked them up, tapped the edges until they were even and turned the pile over.

Reaching for a pencil, he reflected on the fact that he had been back in Salina for two days and hadn’t been out to Cally’s once. He was rather proud of that. He hadn’t advertised for a husband for her either, though that was at least as tempting as riding to her farm. The pencil brushed over the paper, forming Cally’s likeness. Andrew couldn’t help but chuckle. He had a dozen sketches of her at home.

He was starting to wonder if he was falling in love with the girl. Ever since he had mentally listed her good qualities he had found his attitude toward her changed. Perhaps he should go out to the farm after all. Coming face-to-face with her shotgun again would probably be the best cure.

The door opened, and Andrew came to his feet, glad for any interruption. A smile spread across his face as Taylor and Mikey came inside.

“What can I do for you, boys?” Andrew asked.

The boys looked at each other then came forward, choosing seats across from the desk and scooting backward into them. Andrew sat as well, waiting.

Finally Taylor spoke. “We came to get hired as your deputy.”

“My deputies?” Andrew looked from one little boy to the other.

“No, sir,” said Mikey, grinning at his friend.

Taylor grinned too. “Not deputies. Deputy.”

“That’s right,” said Mikey. “On account of us wantin’ a job and you needin’ a deputy.”

“Boys,” Andrew began. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings by laughing. It was hard to take them seriously, though. He said gently, “The ad said over twenty years old.”

Taylor grinned. “Together we’re twenty-one. You wouldn’t have to pay us both, see? We’d split it.”

Mikey nodded, grinning hopefully.

Andrew watched them a moment then narrowed his eyes. “What do you fellas need money for, anyway?”

They looked at each other sharply. Taylor shook his head; Mikey shrugged. With a sigh, Taylor turned back to Andrew. “We gotta pay for a window.”

“Mr. Jarrell’s?”

“No,” they answered quickly.

“This was an accident,” Taylor explained.

“We was playin’ baseball,” Mikey said.

“Mikey’s gettin’ real good at whackin’ them balls.” Taylor smiled proudly at his friend.

“Whose window?” Andrew persisted.

“It was Pa’s,” said Mikey.

Andrew nodded his relief and studied the two
young faces. “We may be able to work something out. Not as deputies,” he added quickly, seeing their eager responses. “I had something more like general errand boys in mind.”

The boys were openly disappointed. “But we’d make a real good deputy,” Mikey grumbled.

“You’re too young, fellas. Adding your ages together won’t work. You’ll just have to grow up first.” At their downcast looks he reluctantly added, “You could think of this as deputy training.”

They brightened immediately. “Honest?” Taylor breathed.

Andrew nodded. “Starting Monday you can come here after school and work for me for about thirty minutes. Penny a piece. All right?”

“We gotta wait clear till Monday?” Mikey asked.

Andrew sighed. “Come by my house after supper tonight. I’ll see if I have anything for you to do.”

The boys nodded and scrambled off their chairs. They started for the door, but Taylor turned back. “Will we get to arrest anybody?”

Andrew kept his face admirably straight. “Not tonight.”

When the boys had gone and the door was closed, Andrew let himself laugh. Too bad he couldn’t average their ages with Mr. Sweeney’s.

A moment later the door opened again. The man who entered was slender, medium height and well dressed. The swallow-tailed coat, while somewhat dusty, looked new and expensive. The corners of his stiff white collar folded down to form small triangles above a diamond nestled in a cravat. Andrew couldn’t help but think, right age, wrong appearance.

“The name’s Val Milton,” the stranger said, extending a hand toward Andrew.

Andrew came around the desk to meet him. “Sheriff Andrew Haywood.” The hand that he grasped was completely free of calluses.

“Then you’re the man I need to see. I’ve come to town to collect a gambling debt, but I’m afraid I’ve run into some complications.”

Andrew sat back against his desk, studying the man intently. “What sort of complications?”

“It seems the man’s dead.” He took a small sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Haywood. “Well, you can imagine how I feel about this tragedy, but I took the note in good faith.”

Andrew accepted the paper reluctantly. He read it through twice and shook his head. Francis DuBois had gambled away his daughter’s home.

“Even though the date for payment is past, I would be willing to work something out with the heirs. Do you think DuBois left eight hundred dollars?”

Andrew bit back a bitter laugh and shook his head. “I doubt if he left eight.”

“The homestead was listed as collateral. Do you know what’s become of it?”

Andrew gave himself a moment before he answered. “His daughter’s living on it.”

“Oh dear. I don’t much care for the idea of running someone out of their home, but I don’t feel I can just let it ride. Bad for business, you understand.” He smiled.

Andrew frowned. Damn DuBois. This was just like him. Andrew took a moment to consider. If this note was legitimate, his duty called for him to confiscate
the property for the gambler. Cally could identify her father’s handwriting, but how honest would she be?

He could advise her to get a lawyer and fight Milton in court. But Cally couldn’t afford a lawyer, and would that be the best thing for her anyway? Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to get Cally off the farm and into town where he could look after her?

He took a deep breath and leveled his eyes on the gambler. “I’ll ride out there now and talk to her.”

“Mind if I ride along?”

Andrew cringed. “I think I would rather try to explain this to Miss DuBois alone. Would you trust me with the note? I want her to see the handwriting.” He didn’t say that she wouldn’t be likely to believe him if she didn’t see the note for herself.

Milton hesitated only a moment. “Of course, Sheriff. I’m registered at the City Hotel, but I’ll probably be in the Antlers.” He gave Andrew a knowing grin.

Andrew nodded absently. “I’ll find you as soon as I get back.”

Andrew sat on the edge of his desk for a moment after Milton had left his office. He lifted the sketch and studied the innocent face. He had drawn her smiling, though he could only remember having seen her smile once. He knew he had drawn what he wanted to see, rather than what was. After a moment he returned it to the pile of Wanted posters and shuffled them, thinking to lose Cally’s picture among the rest. The girl had him mooning around like a lovesick boy.

Cally stretched her arms over her head, then took off her hat, tossing her head to fill her hair with the breeze. It was really quite a lovely day. The sun
seemed to make everything sparkle, even her nearly spent garden.