Paper Roses (35 page)

Isabelle turned to face Sarah. “Everyone likes Léon. Everyone except Frau Steiner, that is.” Isabelle’s eyes were dry, and for the first time, she appeared angry rather than sorrowful. “It makes no sense. Léon never got into arguments the way . . .”

“Austin did.” As she completed the sentence, Sarah frowned, realizing there were now two unsolved problems in Ladreville. “I wish I understood what makes people do things like this: murder, robbery, trying to pin the blame on someone else.”

“Evil exists, but if we fight it, it won’t triumph. I’m praying that the mayor finds whoever’s responsible.”

“So am I.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened, and a smile lit her face. “That explains it.”

“What?”

She smiled again, as if the answer should be obvious. “The peace I see on your face. You found him.” Isabelle nodded slowly. “No matter what happens to my brother, God answered my prayers for you.”

“And he’ll answer ours for Léon. He’ll keep him safe. I know he will.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in Léon Rousseau’s boots right now.” Clay stared into the distance, hoping for the sight of an unbroken fence line. Though he’d given Zach responsibility for the ranch, today Clay was riding the line with his foreman. After everything that had happened, he wanted to assure himself that Bar C cattle were not devouring Karl Friedrich’s crops. “The good people of Ladreville are ready to run Léon out of town.”

Zach frowned, perhaps at Clay’s sarcastic tone. He couldn’t help it. Clay hated the mob mentality, where groups ganged up on an individual, usually a weak one. Léon wasn’t weak physically, but he was vulnerable. If people believed him responsible for the rash of thefts, they might boycott the mercantile, hurting the people Léon loved most.

“If what Sarah said is true, he’s innocent.”

“I believe her.” Though he didn’t always agree with Sarah, this was one time Clay did. “Léon never struck me as sneaky, and that’s what the thief has been. It’s almost as if he’s playing a game with the rest of us, and he keeps changing the rules so we have no chance of winning.” Clay remembered Sarah’s concern when several houses became targets of multiple robberies. She’d been right in saying that was not a normal pattern. “I’m beginning to think the thief is doing this for the excitement, not because he needs money.” And that was frightening.

“People like that are the most dangerous.” Zach confirmed Clay’s unspoken fear. “Their minds don’t work the same way ours do, and that makes it very difficult to catch them.”

Clay paused, debating how much to tell Zach. In the time he’d been at the Bar C, his advice had proven sound. Though this had nothing to do with ranching, perhaps Zach could provide a new perspective. “Sarah thought the thief might also be the person who killed Austin.”

Zach’s head swiveled so quickly Clay feared he’d injure a tendon. “Do you believe that?”

“At first I didn’t, but now I don’t know. I just know I have to find whoever’s responsible. I want the thefts to stop, but mostly I want to see my brother’s killer punished. Austin’s death cannot go unavenged.”

“Be careful, Clay. The Lord says vengeance is his.”

Clay shouldn’t have been surprised. Like his brother, Zach was in the habit of quoting Scripture, but he was surprised, for he had thought Zach would understand. Unlike Sarah, who’d been appalled by frontier justice, Zach had lived here his whole life. He ought to understand the realities of life— and justice—in a land with few lawmen.

“That may be so, but I haven’t seen God capturing the killer. Michel Ladre is no use. He wouldn’t call in the Texas Rangers, and I don’t think he performed more than a perfunctory investigation.” Though that wasn’t a surprise, given the animosity between Michel and Austin, it still rankled. The town’s mayor and self-appointed sheriff should have been able to put personal feelings aside. “Sorry, Zach, but it appears to me that I’m the only one who cares that my brother’s murderer is still free. That means I’m the one who has to find him, and when I do . . .” Clay let the words trail off.

“Killing, even when you believe it is just, is not the answer.” Though Zach spoke softly, his voice resonated with feeling. “That’s one thing I learned during the war. Life is uncertain. It can end any day. Like the day the Mexicans decimated us.”

Clay jerked the reins in an instinctive reaction to Zach’s words. Decimation was truly the stuff of nightmares. Pa had mentioned that day only once and only then because his screams had roused both Clay and Austin. Frightened by their father’s cries, both boys had rushed into his room. By then he’d wakened, but the sight of his haggard and gray face was almost as alarming as his shouts had been. In a low, broken voice Pa had described what he called the darkest day of his war service, the day a lottery determined which of the Americans would be killed.

It was a diabolical scheme, the “game,” as their jailors called it, almost as terrifying as the ending, for each man knew that he held his fate in his hand. Literally. Their captors had placed beans in a large can, one black for every nine white ones. As each prisoner drew a bean, his fate was sealed. Those who’d chosen black would stand before a firing squad. The others would watch, knowing that the process might be repeated the next day or week or month, whenever the jailors felt the need for entertainment. Pa had survived, and so had Zach, but Clay knew neither man could have forgotten that day.

“I should have died,” Zach said. “If it hadn’t been for John Tallman, I would have.” This was part of the story Pa had not told. “I was a coward,” Zach continued. “When I drew the black bean, all I could do was shake with fear. I wasn’t ready to die. John wasn’t either. He was only a couple years older than me, with a wife and a child at home. He had every reason to live, and yet he took pity on me. Before the Mexicans could see what was happening, he switched beans with me. John died in my place.”

Zach’s eyes reflected the anguish of the day. “Afterwards, I didn’t know what to do. I was so ashamed of my cowardice that I wanted to die. At one point, I came close to taking my own life. It was your pa who stopped me. He told me not to let John’s sacrifice be in vain, that I should live each day to the fullest, that I should love instead of hate.”

Clay nodded slowly, trying to imagine how Zach must have felt in the face of such a sacrifice. It was no wonder Pa had given him the advice he had. Pa believed in love. At one time Clay had too, but Austin’s death changed everything. “Unfortunately, that’s easy to say, not so easy to do.”

“The best things often aren’t.”

Nothing was going right. Instinctively, Clay tightened the reins, then murmured reassuring words to Shadow. It wasn’t the horse’s fault that he was in such a foul mood. It also wasn’t completely true that nothing was going right. The ranch was running smoothly, thanks to Zach, and Clay’s medical practice was flourishing. More quickly than he’d expected, he had taken over almost all of Herman’s patients, a state that seemed to bother the older doctor not one whit. In words reminiscent of Clay’s conversation with Zach, Herman declared that he was going to enjoy each day of sight that remained. He’d added that he would not risk a patient’s health to his failing eyesight and that it was best that Clay assume full responsibility for the town’s health. Doing so had proven surprisingly satisfying. The rest of Clay’s life, however, was filled with frustration.

Zach could preach all he wanted, but the fact remained: the need to find Austin’s killer was intrinsic, as necessary to Clay as eating and sleeping. Furthermore, his continued failure was worse than an open sore. It had become a cancer deep inside him, consuming every vital organ. He owed it to Austin; he owed it to Pa; he owed it to himself to bring the murderer to justice. Each day Clay woke, convinced that would be the day he’d learn something. Each night he faced the fact that he had made no progress.

As if that weren’t enough frustration for one man to endure, Clay was plagued with the constant presence of David and Jean-Michel. He could hardly take a step without tripping over them. One—sometimes both—of them came to the ranch each evening. They’d take Sarah for a ride, bring her a small gift, and—most annoying of all—sit there with foolish grins on their faces as they spoke of nothing more consequential than the weather.

It was ridiculous. Didn’t Sarah understand that these were boys playing at courtship? Why, even Thea saw through their protestations of love. The child refused to let them carry her and had taken to hiding behind Pa’s chair when they arrived. If Thea could see how false they were, why couldn’t Sarah? She was smart and funny and oh, so lovable. Sarah deserved more than David and Jean-Michel could offer her. She deserved . . .

Clay blinked as the image flashed before him. She was standing in his arms, smiling into his eyes, and as she did, he knew that nothing in the world was more precious than that smile. Clay shook his head, trying to clear the image, but it remained.
When did it happen?
he demanded, not certain whether he was delighted or dismayed by the revelation. When did he stop viewing Sarah as Austin’s bride-to-be? When had she become the woman he loved? Clay didn’t know when it had happened. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know why. All he knew was that nothing would ever be the same.

He loved Sarah. He wanted to marry her. Those were incontrovertible facts. So too was the fact that if he didn’t act quickly, she might make a mistake they’d both regret.

Filled with a sense of urgency, Clay urged Shadow into a gallop. The first step was to separate Sarah from her swains. He couldn’t start too soon.

“It seems to me you haven’t been out to the garden lately.” Clay pronounced the words as casually as if the thought had just occurred to him. The reality was, he’d carefully planned them, just as he’d planned to address them to Thea, not her sister. “What do you say? Shall we go pull some weeds tonight?”

As Thea clapped in delight, Sarah frowned. “You can’t do that. Thea will pull all the wrong things.”

Clay feigned surprise at the concept. “Would that be so bad? At least she’d have fun.” Which he doubted was the case when the suitors tried to play games with her. Anyone could see that David barely tolerated Thea, just as it was obvious how Jean-Michel cringed at Sarah’s limp. They were the wrong men—totally the wrong men—for Sarah and Thea. If all went well, Sarah would realize that at the same time that she realized Clay would be the right man to be her husband and Thea’s father.

“Please, Sarah.” Thea added her pleas to the cause. “Me wanna go to garden. Papa Clay take me.”

From the corner of his eye, Clay saw Sarah waver. “All right,” she said at last, “but I’m going too.”

Success!