Finding Promise (27 page)

“Can you handle a rifle, Charles?” Jake asked, convinced the answer would be no.

“Yes, and I assure you no one will get to the ladies unless it's through me,” Charles responded.

Colt knew Jake was skeptical of Charles's abilities. “Charles practiced with one of my rifles, and he's an excellent shot.”

Jake didn't comment on Colt's revelation.

“What time do we leave?” Luke asked.

“We're supposed to be taking the noon stage, and it'll take over an hour by buckboard, so about ten thirty.” Colt replied. He turned and handed Shorty the bundle he had under his arm. “Here you go, Shorty, Mrs. Wellington got this ready for you.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on?” Promise asked the men sitting around the table the next morning. They'd had breakfast earlier, then they rode in about ten o'clock and told her they just wanted some coffee. Something was definitely wrong.

Jake, Colt, and Luke exchanged looks that silently questioned
who told her?

“What are you talking about?” Charles asked. It seemed he was the only one able to formulate a question.

Promise had suspected something was amiss when Mrs. Wellington and Bartholomew stayed the night, but she thought Victoria wasn't well. “Is it something about Victoria?” she asked, staring straight at Colt.

“No, Victoria is fine.”

“Then what is it?” This time her eyes met Jake's.

“We're just tired. We played poker too late.” Jake told himself it wasn't a lie—he was tired.

She knew he was keeping something from her, but she didn't think she should say that, since she didn't want to make matters worse between them. As soon as they walked out that door to get to work, she planned to ask Mrs. Wellington. If anyone knew what was going on, she would.

She didn't have to wait long. After the men had a second cup of coffee, they all got up to leave. To her surprise, Luke was the only one who actually left. Colt ran upstairs to see Victoria before he left, and Charles left the room saying he had to get something from his bedroom. Jake lingered by the door, and Promise assumed he was waiting for Colt. She busied herself cleaning the kitchen in an effort to avoid talking to him.

“I forgot to tell you this morning that breakfast was real good,” Jake said. Of all the lame things to say, he thought. He wanted to tell her to keep her gun on her today, but he couldn't without causing her to worry. He wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful in her pink dress. He wanted to say . . . hell, there were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn't.

Promise turned to look at him. “Thank you.”

“You know I think your cooking is about the best I've ever eaten, don't you?”

There was no doubt in her mind something was going on. She wondered if it had anything to do with the killers. “What is it, Jake? Why are you being so nice to me?”

That question threw him. “Haven't I always been nice to you?”

She gave him a sad smile. “You were until we arrived in Denver.”

Jake leaned against the door and stared down at his boots as he formulated his words. “I never intended to be hurtful.”

“Jake, I know something is going on. Does it have to do with the killers?”

Pushing away from the door, he walked over to her and took her by the shoulders. “Promise, I want you to know . . .” He didn't finish because he heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He dropped his hands and moved back to the door.

Charles walked in with a rifle in his hands and placed it against the wall. He looked from Promise to Jake. “Did I interrupt?”

Before either one responded, Colt walked into the room. “I'm ready to go.”

Colt preceded Jake through the door, and Jake hesitated. He turned back to see Promise staring at him. “Are we having apple pie tonight?”

His question made her think of the night in Denver when she made him an apple pie and he never got to eat it. He'd been shot on the road on the way back to her uncle's ranch. She wanted to make him tell her what was going on, but she knew he wouldn't. “If you would like apple pie.”

Jake grinned at her. “Guess I'll have to be here for dinner then.” He shut the door behind him.

She stood there staring at the closed door with unanswered questions swirling in her head. His response was more like the Jake before they'd arrived in Denver. A few seconds passed before she realized Charles was still in the room. “Aren't you going with them, Charles?”

“Not today. I thought I would stay around the house,” he replied, almost too nonchalantly.

Bolting for the door, Promise pulled it open and ran onto the back porch. “Jake!”

Jake and Colt stopped and turned toward her. “Yeah?” Jake said.

She hadn't thought of what she would say when she ran out the door. She'd just reacted. Now she didn't know what to say without making a fool of herself. She noticed how quiet it was; no cowboys milling about, no cattle bawling, no horses whinnying. Nothing. Then a gust of wind caught her skirt and the sound of it whipping around her legs was almost deafening.

Jake took two long strides closer. “What's wrong?”

They were just a few feet apart, but it seemed like miles because of the rift between them. Their eyes met and she held his gaze. “Be careful today.” Her voice was soft and full of concern.

“Yes, ma'am,” Jake said in that supremely confident way of his.

She watched as he turned and walked away with Colt by his side.

Charles was sitting at the table with another cup of coffee in front of him when she returned to the kitchen. “Charles, were they supposed to take this rifle?”

“No.” Charles was troubled when Promise ran out the door after Jake. He'd listened, but all she did was tell him to be careful. Her feelings for Jake concerned him, but he was confident once they returned to Charleston she would forget the tall cowboy.

“You might as well tell me what is going on. I know something is not right.” She could see the stable from where she stood, so she watched, waiting for the men to leave.

“Nothing is going on, I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“You've never been a very good liar, Charles. Why do you need the rifle?”

“I told Colt I would like to do some shooting, and he was kind enough to lend me his rifle.”

“Hmm.” Promise was distracted when she saw the wagon coming from the stable with Jake and some woman sitting beside him on the seat. The woman was wearing a large hat so she couldn't see if it was Mavis,
the good kisser.
Why would that woman be at the ranch so early? She didn't hear anyone riding in this morning and she'd been up before dawn, preparing breakfast. Colt and Luke came out of the stable and rode their horses beside the wagon. There was something about the woman's hat . . . why, it was just like the one she owned. It was her hat! Had Jake given her hat to another woman? “Charles, who is that woman in the wagon with Jake?”

Charles jumped up and looked out the window. “I have no idea.” Charles was as surprised as Promise to see a woman beside Jake. He didn't realize a woman was in on the scheme. He wondered if she was the owner of the saloon the men told him about.

Promise could tell Charles was telling the truth. Perhaps they'd all been hiding something else this morning, and it had nothing to do with the killers. She felt like a fool, worrying that Jake was going to do something dangerous, and here he was riding away with some woman wearing her hat.

 

 

“Shorty, you make a real pretty woman,” Jake teased.

Snorting, Shorty grumbled, “I don't know how women wear this gear! I'm all trussed up. That Mrs. Wellington could have made this dang thing a little bigger,” he said, tugging at the bodice of the dress that had been altered to fit him. “And I can't see nothing wearing this war bonnet! How in blue blazes do women see where they're going wearing these things on their heads?”

Hearing the exchange from the back of the wagon, Cole said, “What I want to know is where you're hiding your shotgun.”

“It's atwixt my legs, and don't go laughing. I reckon I can get to it fast enough and give them dirty skunks a little lead plum when I need to,” Shorty told him.

“You wearing bloomers too?” Jake asked.

Lifting the flopping brim of the hat, Shorty gave him a frown. “You ain't that gol-darn funny.”

“Hopefully, they can't see your big feet.”

Cole and Rodriguez could be heard laughing from the back of the wagon. Even Colt grinned at the banter between them. He understood it was their way of releasing tension before they faced whatever was about to happen.

“Colt, do you think they took the bait L. B. hung out there for them?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, I do. They'll think it's the perfect time to bushwhack us.”

“We couldn't have picked a better place for them than Ambush Pass,” Jake said. “Sounds like it was named for them.”

 

 

Promise was washing the dishes when T. J. and Strait walked in the back door.

“What are you two doing here? All the men have left already,” she told them.

“We know,” T. J. said.

“Could we have some coffee?” Strait asked.

“Of course. Did Shorty run out of coffee?” When no one responded, she turned to look at them.

“Ah, no, we just like yours better,” Strait stammered.

Everyone knew the men loved Shorty's strong coffee. Why was everyone acting so weird today? Maybe she could get some information out of them. “Who was the woman in the wagon with Jake?”

T. J. and Strait exchanged glances.

“I didn't see a woman with Jake,” T. J. said.

“Me neither,” Strait added. He figured it wasn't really a lie since Shorty wasn't a woman.

Promise stared at them, trying to figure out if someone had told them to lie to her. “Well, she was wearing my hat.”

“Your hat?” T. J. repeated, sounding like he had just swallowed a frog.

“Yes, my hat. I thought it looked familiar, so I went upstairs to check, and my hat is missing.”

“Maybe it was Mrs. Wagner,” Strait offered.

Promise had met the woman who helped Victoria sew her reticules, and she couldn't imagine her taking the hat without permission. “No, it wasn't Mrs. Wagner.”

T. J. thought it would be wiser to change the subject. “Where's Charles?”

“He's in the parlor playing games with the boys.”

Colt had told them to keep the boys inside today, and Charles was trying to keep them occupied.

“Where's Mrs. Wellington and Bartholomew?” T. J. asked.

Promise gave him a puzzled look. “Upstairs with Victoria.” She looked from T. J. to Strait. “Okay, why don't you two tell me what is going on?”

Charles picked that moment to walk into the kitchen. He quickly appraised the situation and asked, “Are you two going shooting with me today?”

“Ah . . . yeah,” T. J. answered, silently thanking Charles for his quick thinking.

Promise felt insulted that the three of them thought she was so ignorant she would believe their lies. “Enough of this! If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll go ask Victoria.”

The three men looked at each other. They didn't know how to respond, but Charles knew Promise would do as she threatened.

Thankfully, Mrs. Wellington walked into the room before they could tell another lie. “I heard your conversation, and I didn't think it was right of Jake to keep this from you.”

Promise did not think she was going to like what Mrs. Wellington had to say. “Keep what from me?”

“Victoria doesn't know what is going on, and we are going to keep it that way. She doesn't need to be worrying about her husband.”

“Why would she have to worry about Colt today?” Promise asked, but deep down, she knew the answer.

“They set a trap for those killers,” Mrs. Wellington told her.

Promise sank into a chair. She'd suspected that very thing until she saw the woman sitting beside Jake in the wagon. “But why would they have a woman with them?”

“That was no woman, that was Shorty dressed up as one,” Mrs. Wellington responded. “I made his dress, and I borrowed your hat for him to wear. The large brim was needed so no one could tell he wasn't a woman.”

Promise could hardly believe what Mrs. Wellington was saying. “That was Shorty? But why would he dress as a woman?”

“So the killers would think it was you.”

Promise dropped her face into her hands. “Oh no. Why would he do that? Why would Jake allow him to do that? Haven't enough people been killed?”

Mrs. Wellington walked to her and placed her arm around her shoulders. “My dear, you must have more faith in the McBride brothers. I've learned much about these men since I've been here, and I can assure you they know how to win a battle.”

Charles sat in the chair beside her. “They have a good plan.”

“But what if their plan doesn't work?” Promise moaned through her tears.

“It will work,” T. J. said emphatically.

Promise looked up at Charles, her eyes so sad it broke his heart. “Oh, Charles, how could you allow this?”

“As Mrs. Wellington said, I think you are underestimating the brothers. It seems to me two former U.S. Marshals should know what they are doing. And I daresay Colt has seen his share of skirmishes. Have you seen him shoot?”

Promise wasn't comforted; she wanted details. “Since everyone knows but me, you must tell me everything.”

After they explained the plan to Promise, she had one last question. “If they were so positive the plan would work, why didn't all of you go with them?”