Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] (15 page)

After the second set, following the break for supper, he was walking over to talk with one of the neighbors when Miss Suzanne stepped in front of him with her most winsome smile, a smile she was known for, since she’d begun practicing it long before she became old enough to truly flirt.

“Good evening, Ransom. I thought it was about time you and I shared a dance.”

What could he say without being stupendously rude? “Of course.”

She put a pretty pout on her lips. “I was beginning to think you were ignoring me, dancing with all the other girls like you have.”
And not me
screamed as if she’d shouted it.

“You were dancing.”

“But I wanted to dance with you.”

He held out his arms. “We’re dancing now.”

“I was hoping for a waltz.”

“A polka will have to do. My next waltz is taken.” He put his hand on her waist and clasped the other, counted the beats, and joined the revolving dancers. If he had to dance with her, this one was a good choice. The faster they danced, the less she could talk. Even so, she somehow managed to chat away about every topic under the sun. He swung her on the corners and double-timed until he was near to panting. As was she.

When the music stopped, she nearly collapsed against his chest. “That was the fastest polka—” she sucked in a decidedly unladylike breath—“I’ve ever danced.”

He didn’t say
Me too
but he sure thought it. He steered her back to her friends. “Thank you, Miss Suzanne. You’re a fine dancer.”

Before she could answer, he turned and headed across the room. He saw Gretchen making her way toward him. It must have been time for another waltz.

“I thought you didn’t like her,” she said, looking up at him.

“I like her fine. It’s her nonstop talking that I can’t abide.”

Gretchen giggled into her spread fingers. “I think she wanted this dance, not that one.”

He held out his arms as the musicians floated into a waltz, and Gretchen stepped into them.

“Jenna said you are one of the most handsome men here.”

Ransom rolled his eyes. “She must be in need of glasses.”

Gretchen looked up at him. “I agreed with her. Lucas is second.”

He swung her around to make her stop talking. Silly girls.

He thought of his former partner. How could he tell her she about wore his ears off? He’d been careful not to dance with any one of the young women more than once, since doing so would start the gossip going.

“You did very well,” he told her at the end of the dance.

“Thank you. How come dancing makes me hungry?”

“I have no idea, but there are still some cakes and cookies left from the feed.”

“None of Ma’s,” she said.

“Her baked goods always go right away.” He walked with her to the table where Mavis and the other women were claiming their bowls and pans, packing up to leave. Mavis handed Gretchen a couple of cookies and, at Ransom’s nod, gave him some too.

“We should have just left everything out for a few more minutes—not that there’s much left.”

“I agree.” The woman next to her took the lid off her tin and set the cookies back out to be immediately consumed. “Shame there’s not any coffee left.”

“Nor cider.” Mavis stripped off the tablecloth and folded it before stashing it in her basket.

“I’m riding Betsy—with her ma’s permission—home,” Lucas said, stopping for a moment. “Don’t lock the door.”

Mavis snorted and shook her head. “One of these days we might have to find that old key, but you’re safe for now.” She handed her basket to Ransom. “You got everything, Gretchen?”

“I didn’t bring anything.”

“Coat? Scarf? Hat?”

“I’d like to ride along with you,” Jay Slatfield said as he stopped next to Mavis. “After all, we go out the same road.”

“Now, why would you want to do that? We brought the wagon, so we’ll be slower.”

“Makes no nevermind.”

Ransom headed out for the wagon to bridle up the horses again. For some reason he was glad his mother was showing Jay no interest. He never had liked change, and if she allowed Jay to court her, it would indeed bring about massive changes.

C
assie stared at the deed on the table.

After reading it yet again, she placed all the other papers she’d decided to save back into the drawer. She would sort them all again in the daylight.

Jason had said the wagon was hers. It had belonged to her father personally and was not the property of the show. And Wind Dancer was hers, a gift from her father. But did he know about the deed in the drawer? She doubted it, or surely he would have said something. He always just referred to the valley as her father’s dream. Had there possibly been a slightly derogatory tone at times? She thought back. Strange how all these things were coming to her mind now.

She glanced around at all the cupboards and drawers. Where to keep it. She needed a safe place. Opening her trunk, she dug out her mother’s Bible, slid the envelope in between the pages, and put it all back in place. What had her mother known about the valley? Had she ever heard them discussing it? She thought back. Her mother referred to it as
his dream valley
. That’s what it was. After looking at the date on the deed, she’d realized he had paid for the land before he went into the Wild West show business. What had happened to that land in all these years since? Did someone else build a ranch on it? He’d always said the soil was so rich that the grass would be belly deep on the cattle.

Taking the paper out of her mother’s Bible, she read it again. Yes, the deed had been recorded at the county seat in Rapid City, although the seal was difficult to read. She studied her father’s signature. What had he been thinking then? Did he know he was going to start a traveling show, a Wild West Show, as it came to be called. Had he dreamed they would one day form a trio called the Dashing Lockwoods? Had he met Jason Talbot yet? Oh, so many questions she wanted to ask. She hoped Chief would have some of the answers. If she could get him talking.

A knock on the door brought her attention back to the present. “Yes?”

“You want Runs Like a Deer to sleep in here tonight?” Chief asked.

“Of course. Micah might have to help her back in.”

“He’s on first watch. She could sleep out here.”

“No.” Cassie removed some papers from the bunk and opened the door. “Your bed is ready for you.” She stepped down and stood aside to let the Indian woman approach. “Here, use me as a brace.” With Chief on one side and Cassie on the other, they helped the woman up the steps so she could sit on the bed. Cassie heaved a breath of relief. “Did that hurt, jarring your leg like that?”

“Some.” Runs Like a Deer lifted her splinted leg up onto the bed. But when she struggled to pull up the quilt, Cassie stepped in to help.

“You need anything else?” She thought for a moment the woman might smile, but instead she closed her eyes, signaling sleep. Cassie pulled her hammock out and attached it to the hooks before retrieving her bedding from the cupboard she kept it in. After removing her boots she blew out the lamp and, wrapping her quilt around herself, snuggled into the hammock. One of these days she was going to start wearing a nightdress to bed again. One of these days she was going to do all manner of things—take a bath, wash her hair, scrub her clothes. A soft snore greeted her from the other bed, so she didn’t bother to say good-night.

Othello’s barking woke her up. While sometimes he barked at wild animals passing through, this was his deep warning bark. She rolled out of her hammock as quietly as she could and drew a pistol from the holster she kept hung on a peg at the end of the bed.

“What do you want?” Chief called, loud enough for Cassie to hear.

“Whatever money you got.” The man’s voice sounded slightly muffled. Was he masked?

“No money.”

“I heard about a wad of bills. Now, just don’t go movin’ around. Stay where you are.”

Who knew she had a roll of bills? The storekeeper, of course. He must have been bragging about it to someone else.

“Hey, there in the wagon. I got your Injun friend covered here, and if that money don’t come out, I might have to shoot a hand or somethin’.”

Should she bluff or not? Shoot or not? The thought of actually wounding a human being made her stomach twist. “I can’t see in here. I have to light a lamp.”

“You’re stallin’. Now, I’m gonna count to three. Might just start with this here big dog.”

Not Othello. “Wait a minute.” She tried to make her voice sound like an order, but it squeaked on the end in spite of her.

“About a minute’s all I got.”

“I told you I can’t see in here. I have to light a lamp.” She dug for the matches, dropping them on the floor.
Calm down
. Hands shaking, she found a match and struck it, then lifted the chimney to light the wick. “Okay, I’m lighting the lamp. Surely you can see that there is light in here now.”

She heard a gun cock. Go out the door with guns blazing or toss out the money?
Come on, Cassie, you starred in a Wild West show, not an Old West town.

“Okay, you got light. Now don’t go throwin’ the money. You give it to the Injun here, and he can bring it over to me, nice an’ gentlelike.”

Cassie opened her trunk, dug down for the roll, and holding the money tightly, slammed the lid shut. How could she prove who did this? Surely there was a sheriff around here somewhere. This was all the money they had. “Are you all right, Chief?”

“Ya.”

“Tell Othello to back off.”

“Did.”

“One . . .”

“I’m coming.” She unwrapped her rifle.

“No guns.”

She laid her revolver and the rifle on the table.

“Two . . . and make sure that fifty is still on the roll.”

“I’m putting it in a bag so it doesn’t fly all over the place.”
Has to be the store clerk or someone he told about my visit there. Why did I ever take that roll of money into the store anyway? A bag. Find a bag.
She snatched one off the hook on the wall. The roll of money caught on the edge of the bag and several bills peeled off. The fifty and ten and then a dollar bill. She flipped through the rest. They were all dollar bills. Jason just needed to feel important. She almost laughed aloud. Shame to lose what they had, but it was not nearly as sad as it might have been. She’d been thinking they had far more money than they did. She stuffed it all in the bag.

“All of it.” Impatience colored his voice.

“Here it is.” Cassie opened the door and stepped onto the stairs. She didn’t recognize the big man, who had a bandanna across his face.

“Nice an’ easy. If you drop it, you come pick it up.”

She tossed it to him, and he caught it with one hand.

“You got anything else?”

“No, and now how will we eat?”

“I’m sure you’ll figger out somethin’. Girl with all your skills.” He nodded toward the wagon so bright in the moonlight. “I should come search that wagon.”

“Still won’t find anything.”
Please, Lord, keep Micah away
. She couldn’t see Chief around the corner of the wagon, but she kept sending thoughts his way to stay still.

No one’s life or health were worth that roll of money, or any money, for that matter.
Please stay where you are, both of you.

“Much obliged, miss.” He touched the tip of his gun to his hat, spun around, and tore out of the camp.

Cassie vaulted back into the wagon, grabbed her rifle and shells, and leaped out the stairs. She took three steps while loading and raised the stock to her shoulder. The moonlight showed a man riding away. She squeezed the trigger, shoved in another shell, and fired again. Was that a yelp she heard? If so, he might be injured, but he kept on going. She knew if she’d aimed lower she might have killed him. But she was right before. No money was worth a killing.

She lowered her rifle and clamped her teeth, shaking her head. He got away. The dirty rotten excuse for a man got away with all the cash they had. And it was all her own fault for taking that roll of bills to town.

She tamped down the fury, but it smoldered very much alive in her middle. His horse had a white star and a blaze down its nose. While he’d worn a bandanna over his face, he couldn’t hide his height. Was it worth going back to town and confronting the sheriff there, if there even was one? They had to keep a watch on the cattle, but did they need one on the camp too? When would they get any sleep?

“Going to relieve Micah now.”

“Good. Sorry, Chief.”

Chief grunted and swung aboard his horse.

Cassie climbed back in the wagon, put her guns away, and closed up the cupboards. “Some bad people around.” Runs Like a Deer spoke softly so as not to startle her wagon mate.

“Guess that’s always the case. He didn’t get as much as he thought.”

“How did he know you had money?”

“From the supplies I bought at the store.”

“Hmm.”

“Good night.” Cassie wrapped herself back up and slid into her hammock. Morning would be there before they knew it. They’d have to make a decision then. Go back to town or continue on.

She woke with one thought—she had to get their money back.
But what if the authorities are looking for me regarding the show?
The thought intruded, but she ignored it. Feeding and taking care of her friends until they could set up in her father’s valley was the most important thing.

“I’m sorry,” she said as they gathered around the fire for a breakfast of scrambled eggs with venison, slices of the bread from the store, and hot coffee.

Chief and Micah looked at each other and then back at her. “Not your fault,” Chief said.

Cassie decided not to waste the time arguing. “I am riding back to town to get it back.”

Chief shook his head. Micah stared at his hands. Runs Like a Deer copied Chief.

“Look, we will soon need supplies again. We need the money.” Why did she feel like she was arguing with posts? “Is there enough grazing here for another day and night?”

This time Chief nodded. “Slow us down.”

“I’m aware of that.” She finished eating and went to the fire to refill her coffee cup. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You want Micah to go with you?”

She thought a moment, then shook her head. “I’ll ride your horse, Chief, so no one is tempted to steal Wind Dancer.”

She was on the road in minutes.

This time when she rode into town she looked first for a sheriff’s office, then a doctor’s. She stopped in front of a stone building with a sheriff’s sign hanging over the door. Sucking in a breath of confidence, she dismounted and flipped the reins over a hitching rail off to the side. Pulling open the heavy door, she made herself stand straight as she entered.

A clean-shaven man with a receding hairline looked up from the papers spread on his desk. “Can I help you?” The badge on his chest pocket announced his position.

“I hope so. I need to report a robbery.”

“I see.” He stood and picked up a chair to set in front of his desk. Motioning for her to sit, he walked back around the desk and pulled a piece of paper out of a drawer. “First, I’m Sheriff Timmons. And your name is?”

“Cassie Lockwood.”

“You don’t live around here.”

“No, we are on our way to Rapid City.”

He laid down his pencil and folded his hands on the desk. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.” He frowned. “Lockwood. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Have you ever been to a Wild West show?”

He nodded. “Some years ago.”

“My father was part owner of a show that traveled the train routes west. We played in Fargo and Dickinson, in Omaha, but never in South Dakota.”

He squinted to think better. “More recent than that.” His eyes widened. “You drove a fancy wagon into town. Yesterday, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “Bought supplies at your general store.” She huffed a breath. “That’s where I made my mistake.”

“Shopping at our store was a mistake? I have a hard time believing that. Old Otto has a great reputation, best store in the region.”

“Well, if Old Otto has a loose tongue, he caused the robbery.”

Sheriff Timmons leaned back in his chair, hands locked behind his head. “You better tell me the rest of your story. What was your mistake?”

“I had a roll of bills and, like a fool, brought the whole thing in with me. To pay my bill, I handed him a fifty, and he said he couldn’t change that. I needed to go to a bank. So I found a ten and a dollar under the fifty and gave him that.” She watched the man’s eyes, his eyebrows drawn together.