скачать книгу бесплатно
“Worse!”
He appreciated the change in tone. “I’ve got business in town. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Keep an eye out for Josh,” she added.
Beau wanted to see his old friend but feared what the Reverend would say. The man dug deep, pulling up weeds by the roots and laying them bare for a man to see for himself. Adie had a different way. She planted seeds and expected flowers. If a man was thirsty, she gave him sweet tea. If he was hungry, she filled his belly. Beau had never known a more generous woman…or a more dangerous one. Watching Adie love the whole wretched world made him want a garden of his own.
Beau tipped his hat to her, saw that Miss Baxter had left her post at the window, turned and headed to town. As he trudged along the path, he thought of his early years in Denver. He’d been a deputy sheriff when Joshua Blue had ridden into town with a Bible and an attitude. Before he knew it, Beau had been sitting in a saloon that doubled for a church on Sunday mornings. A year later, he’d met Lucy and married her. After her passing, Adie had fed him meals until he couldn’t stand another bite and had lit out of town.
He wanted to leave now but couldn’t. Patrick’s girls needed him and so did Miss Baxter. What drove a woman to travel a thousand miles to marry a stranger? Beau didn’t know, but he knew how it felt to hurt.
As he stepped onto the boardwalk, he caught a whiff of himself. Adie was right about that bath, but first he had to visit the Silver River Saloon. With a little luck, he’d pick up news about Clay Johnson. Beau disliked visiting saloons, but it had to be done. Men like Johnson didn’t hang out at the general store, nor did they go to church on Sundays, or to socials where men and women rubbed elbows and made friends. Neither did Beau.
With his duster flapping, he strode to Scott’s office to fetch the wagon, then drove back down the street, crossed the railroad tracks and found the saloon between a second mining office and a gunsmith. He stepped inside and surveyed the dimly lit room. Empty stools lined the bar. A poker table sat in the corner with a battered deck of cards but no players. He had the place to himself, so he stepped to the bar where a man with graying hair was wiping the counter.
“What’ll it be?” the barkeep asked.
“Coffee.”
The man set down a mug. Numb to the bitterness, Beau took a long drag of the overcooked brew. It splashed in his belly but didn’t give him the usual jolt, a sign he was more tired than he knew. Grimacing, he set down the half-empty cup.
“You’re a stranger here,” the barkeep said.
“Sure enough.”
“In town on business?”
“Just passing through.” Lonely men liked to talk. Beau hoped this man was one of them.
The barkeep lifted a shot glass out of a tub and dried it with his apron. “If you need work, the mines are hiring.”
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“His name’s Clay Johnson. He’s about six feet with dark hair and a crooked nose.” Beau wished he’d been the one to break it.
When the man raised a brow, Beau slid a coin across the counter. The barkeep slipped it into his pocket. “I’ve seen that fellow.”
“In town?”
“About two weeks ago.”
Before Patrick’s death. “Any idea where he was headed?”
“None. He bought five bottles of whiskey, opened one here and walked out with the rest. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Anyone with him?”
“Two men.”
“What did they look like?”
“I didn’t pay much attention. I noticed Johnson because of his nose.” The barkeep set down the glass and held out his hand. “I’m Wallace O’Day. I run a clean business.”
Beau shook the man’s hand. “Beau Morgan.”
“Bounty hunter?”
“I’m not in it for the money.”
Wallace picked up another glass. “This Johnson fellow. Is he wanted?”
“Yes.” By Beau for Lucy’s murder and the U.S. government for stealing horses. Of the two, the government would be kinder.
The barkeep glanced at the dregs in Beau’s cup. “Want some more?”
“No, thanks.” Beau slapped down a sawbuck. “If you hear anything about Johnson, remember it.”
Wallace folded the money. “How do I find you?”
“I’ll be back.”
Beau left the saloon with thoughts of Johnson rattling like broken glass. He saw Lucy again, felt the wetness of her bodice and smelled the blood. He blinked the picture away, but the rage stayed in his blood, swimming like a thousand fish. Needing to get rid of the slithering, he walked two blocks to an emporium where he bought fresh clothes, then headed back to the bathhouse across from the Silver River.
As he neared the splintery building, one of the oldest in Castle Rock, he smelled steam, soap and dirt. The mix reminded him of a simple truth. He could get clean on the outside, but the inside was another matter. Until Clay Johnson met his end, Beau’s hate would grow with every breath he took.
Weary to the bone, he stepped into a drafty building with a high ceiling. He paid a Chinese man to fill a tub, then undressed and slipped into the hot water. As he dunked his head, Beau thought about Clay Johnson. They’d been playing this game for a long time now. At first, Clay had run hard and far. Beau had nearly trapped him in Durango, but he’d fled to the Colorado Plateau and into the desert. Beau had picked up the man’s trail later in Raton but had lost him near Cimarron. A year had passed before he’d gotten word of an outlaw gang raiding ranches in Wyoming.
Beau had taken a train to Laramie. He’d arrived in time for a trial that didn’t include Johnson. In exchange for prison in place of the gallows, one of Clay’s cohorts had told the authorities where to find him. Beau had ridden out that day, but Clay had already vanished into the mountains.
With the memory haunting him, Beau raised his head out of the water and wiped his face. He’d been so close. A day sooner and his search would have ended. Instead, Clay had gotten word of Beau’s presence and left him a message at the local saloon.
It should have been you, Sheriff. You know it. Leave me alone.
Beau had that note in his saddlebag. He had other things, too. A bullet etched with an M for Morgan, presumably from Johnson’s gun belt. Other notes. Other tokens. Every time Beau got close, the outlaw taunted him but didn’t stand and fight.
Beau wondered why.
What stopped Johnson from setting up an ambush? For five years, Beau had slept with one eye open and for good reason. In a game of cat and mouse, no man liked being the mouse. Someday Johnson would be sick of the chase and become the cat. The man would show himself and Beau would be ready. Dunking back into the scalding water, he hoped that day would come soon.
Chapter Four
“How do you know our uncle?” Ellie asked.
Dani and the girls were sitting in Adie Blue’s kitchen. After insisting Dani call her by her given name, the pastor’s wife had given the girls snickerdoodles and made Dani a cup of hot tea, lacing it with enough sugar to stop her hands from shaking.
With the girls staring at her, Adie sat down with a cup of her own. “Pastor Josh and I know your uncle from Denver. He used to be a sheriff.”
“Where’s his badge?” Ellie asked.
Adie paused. “I don’t know. Maybe he left it in Denver.”
“Why?” Emma hadn’t touched her cookie. Of the three girls, she was most aware of their uncertain future and needed reassurance for herself and her sisters.
Dani wanted answers, too. And not just from Adie. Why had God filled her heart with love for Patrick and snatched him away? Even more troublesome, why had He left three little girls in the care of a dangerous man? Dani watched as Adie stirred her tea in slow circles, as if this were an ordinary day. But it wasn’t ordinary. Each plink of the spoon sent tremors down Dani’s spine.
Adie finally set her spoon in the saucer and looked at Emma. “Your Uncle Beau was married to a woman named Lucy. Something bad happened and he didn’t want to be a sheriff anymore.”
A wife…Dani didn’t know what to think. Beau Morgan had loved a woman and been loved in return. She didn’t want to feel his pain but she did.
Ellie’s eyes filled with concern. “What happened?”
“It’s hard to talk about, sweetie.”
Emma glared at the pastor’s wife. “As hard as losing Pa?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Adie’s eyes had the fragility of etched glass. Whatever Beau Morgan had suffered, it had been tragic, maybe violent. The girls needed to feel safe, so Dani stepped in. “I hear you have kittens,” she said to Adie.
“I sure do.”
Esther jumped up. Cookie crumbs bounced on the table.
“I want to see them!”
Ellie caught the excitement. “Is Stephen home?”
Adie glanced at Dani to explain. “Stephen’s our son. He and Ellie are the same age.”
“We’re best friends,” Ellie added.
Dani almost smiled. It figured Ellie the tomboy would be friends with the pastor’s son.
Adie looked at Ellie. “Stephen’s staying at Jake Roddy’s house until Sunday.”
“Oh.”
“But you can still play with the kittens,” Adie said.
“They’re in the stable.”
Esther ran for the door.
Adie looked at Emma. “I need to speak to Miss Dani. Would you take your sisters to the stable?”
Emma scowled. “But—”
“I know, sweetie.” Adie motioned for Emma to lean closer.
“You’re old enough to know the facts, but Esther isn’t. We need your help.”
“Will you tell me later?” Emma asked.
Dani nodded. “I promise.”
The girls left through the back door. Adie went to the stove where she lifted an enamel kettle and refilled their cups.
“I wish Josh were here.”
“Where is he?” Dani asked.
“Looking for you. He must have missed your train.”
Dani squared her shoulders. “I’m glad he did. It gave me a chance to meet Mr. Morgan.”
“That’s not the real Beau.” Adie put down the kettle. “Let’s sit on the porch. I’ll tell you his story, but I need to see the sky when I do.”
“Why?”
“To remember that Lucy’s in Heaven. Considering how she died, it’s the only comfort we have.” With her cup and saucer in hand, Adie led the way to the porch and indicated the hodgepodge of chairs. “Take the rocker. It’s soothing.”
Balancing her teacup, Dani dropped onto the chair and instantly felt the cradlelike rocking. It matched the beat of her heart, calming her thoughts as the hot tea had settled her nerves. Adie said nothing as a man in a black preacher’s coat rode into the yard on a dapple gray.
“That’s Josh.” She set her cup on the table, then went down the stairs to meet him.
At the sight of his wife, Reverend Blue’s face turned from stone to living flesh. He slid out of the saddle, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into a gentle hug. After lowering his chin, he whispered something in her ear. Dani ached with envy. A husband…A partner and friend. Marriage meant starting a family. It meant belonging to a person and making a home. Dani had lived in Walker County her entire life, but she’d never fitted in. She’d felt that oneness with Patrick and now he was gone.
Why, Lord?
It was a question for Reverend Blue, but the man looked nothing like the minister Dani had expected. When she dreamed of the wedding, she’d pictured him as a twin of her pastor in Wisconsin, an elderly man with kind eyes. Pastor Schmidt had called Jesus the Lamb of God. He’d taught his flock to turn the other cheek.
Reverend Blue had a mane of dark hair, hawkish eyes and a chin that looked as if it could take a punch. For a good cause, Dani suspected he’d welcome it. Would he find her cause worthy? The Blues considered Beau a friend, but they didn’t know about the pistols on the porch or the secrecy in town. Dani had to convince them to help her keep the girls.
Reverend Blue guided his wife up the stairs. As Adie sat, he took off his hat and faced Dani. “I’m sorry about Patrick, Miss Baxter. It had to be a shock.”
“Yes.” Her throat closed.
He dropped into the chair on her right and turned it so they were seated at an angle. “Whatever you need, Adie and I will help. Train fare—”
“I’m not leaving.” Dani had to make her case and she had to do it now. “I want to adopt the girls.”
The Reverend’s eyes stayed kind, but he lowered his chin. “I don’t think—”
“I have to!” Dani’s voice trembled. “I promised Patrick.”
The Reverend traded a look with his wife. They had an entire conversation without saying a word. Jealousy raged in Dani’s middle. She was mad at everyone right now—the Reverend, Adie, Beau Morgan, Patrick for leaving her, and especially God.
