A Dream to Call My Own (25 page)
“Well, that takes care of Wyman,” Nick said as he secured the body to a horse. Hank and Nick had already tied the other outlaws to their horses. “Dave, we’ll help you get this bunch back to Gallatin House so you can figure out what’s to be done. The girls were going to send for the sheriff, so hopefully he’ll be there by now.”
“I’ll help, too,” Cubby declared, adjusting a lantern.
Dave nodded and licked his swollen lips. “I appreciate all of the help tonight. It sure looked grim there for a time.” He put his arm around Lacy and pulled her close. “Cubby, you definitely earned your spurs.”
“We didn’t have nothin’ to do with wantin’ you dead, Deputy Shepard,” one of Wyman’s men called out. They were all tied securely to their horses and each horse had been tied to the other, with Hank in charge of them all.
“You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be caught up in this,” Nick told the man.
“Wyman sent us to kill Mulholland, and we didn’t do it,” one of the other men said. “Doesn’t that count for good behavior?”
“You’ll have to take it up with the judge,” Dave replied. “But I think if you boys will cooperate and testify against Rafe and Mulholland, it could go better for you.”
“Ain’t no need to testify against Rafe—he’s dead,” the first man declared.
Cubby turned on his heel, nearly dropping the lantern. “What?”
Hank came alongside him and put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “We didn’t have a chance to tell you, but it seems your father . . . well . . . he shot himself. The men here were telling me that when they rode back after Mulholland, they arrived in time to see something of a ruckus going on at the saloon. Marie told them Rafe had taken his life.”
The glow of lantern light revealed Cubby’s stunned expression. “My pa is dead?”
Lacy pulled away from Dave and came to stand beside Cubby. She gently took hold of his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
The boy shook his head back and forth. “But why? Why would he have done such a thing? He had all these plans—he told me so.”
Dave rubbed his tender face. “Maybe your father realized that his bad deeds were about to be exposed. He might have feared prison would be worse than death—or that because he hired George Gallatin killed, he’d face the gallows anyway. Some men don’t like other folks having control of their life.”
Cubby drew a deep breath. “Pa never wanted them to kill you, Dave. I heard him arguing with Wyman and Mulholland. They said it was the only way, but Pa wasn’t happy about it. They gave him a real bad time about it.”
Dave felt sorry for the boy. “I believe you.” He didn’t bother to comment on the fact that Rafe did nothing to stop the others from trying to do him in. It would only hurt Cubby, and in time, he’d probably reason it through for himself.
“It might seem like poor timing,” Hank began, “but we’d like you to come stay with us for as long as you like, Cubby. Gwen and I’ve been talking about asking you to come north with us, but we weren’t sure your father would allow it. We’d like to give you an opportunity to start fresh—go to school if you like.”
“So I wouldn’t have to stay at the saloon tonight?” Cubby asked, as if not understanding the full impact of Hank’s comment.
Lacy patted his arm, and Dave’s heart swelled at her gentleness. “You don’t ever have to stay there again if you don’t want to. Come home with us and rest. It’s been a hard night for everyone.”
Dave watched as Cubby nodded, then went to mount his horse. He set out ahead of the others, and they let him go. No doubt he needed some time to think about all that had happened. Dave knew it couldn’t be easy for him to face having killed a man, even if that man was a ruthless no-good like Wyman Jenkins. Added to that was the loss of his father. Cubby would do a lot of growing up tonight.
Hank and Nick led Wyman’s men out and followed after Cubby, leaving Dave and Lacy behind to bring Wyman. Dave reached out and touched Lacy’s wild hair. Somewhere along the way, the mass of cinnamon waves had come loose, spilling around her shoulders.
“I love your hair.” It seemed a silly thing to say, but Dave couldn’t help himself.
Lacy smiled. “You sound terrible. Your lips are so swollen that your words come out in a cross between slurs and growls. I think we’d better get you back to Gallatin House, where you can have a nice long soak in the hot springs and put some ice to your face.”
Dave pulled her close. “My lips aren’t so swollen that I can’t kiss you.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Lacy said, pushing him back. “You let Nick haul me off like a sack of potatoes. It’ll be a while before you get any kisses.”
He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”
Her expression grew serious. “Dave, before we join the others, I have to say how sorry I am that we didn’t marry sooner. I feel like a fool now for having kept you waiting.”
“I don’t. I wanted you to be sure. You were right. Just because we felt a physical attraction—”
“A
strong
physical attraction,” she amended.
He laughed, and spikes of pain rushed across his face. “All right, a strong physical attraction. Either way, it wasn’t enough to make a marriage. I . . . well . . . I needed for you to want to be my wife in every way. Through the good and bad.”
Lacy wrapped her arms around his waist, and Dave couldn’t suppress a groan. She pulled back in alarm and looked at him questioningly.
“I might have a few busted ribs.”
“How do you intend to sit a horse? You should have said something sooner.”
“Come on. It doesn’t change anything. I’ll be in as much pain whether I ride, walk, or sit.” He led her to her horse. “I sure hope you won’t be given to seeking out this much danger and excitement in the future.”
Lacy climbed into the saddle and looked down at him. She grinned. “I have it on the best authority that I am to become an old rancher’s wife. Boring, predictable, and oh . . . ladylike. If I can learn how.”
Dave chuckled and gave her leg a pat. “Lacy, you will never be boring or predictable. I’d almost wager on that. As for ladylike—well, honey, you’re doing just fine in that area, too.”
She threw him an enticing grin. “Come along. I have a wedding to plan, and I’ve put it off for much too long.”
Jefferson Mulholland gathered his things and headed for the entrance of the saloon. To his surprise, however, the sheriff and several men stood just outside the door.
“Mr. Mulholland?” the sheriff questioned.
“Yes.” He tried not to appear surprised or concerned. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but the bar is closed. My dear friend Rafe Reynolds ended his life earlier. We’re in mourning.”
“We know all about it,” the sheriff countered. “Mr. Mulhol-land, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“By all means.” Jefferson stepped back and put his saddlebags aside. He said nothing more as the sheriff and five rather large men entered the establishment, watching him intently. He would have to give the performance of his life to get out of this unscathed. He couldn’t exactly say why, but he had the strangest sense of being trapped.
Once all of the men had gathered, Mulholland motioned toward the nearest table. “Won’t you have a seat?”
The sheriff shook his head. “What do you know about Dave Shepard’s disappearance?”
“Nothing, really,” Mulholland replied. “I was asked if I’d seen him, but frankly, I’ve been far too caught up in the death of my friend. Even now, I was preparing to go to Bozeman to arrange for his funeral.”
“Were you, now,” the sheriff stated more than asked.
He continued with his game. “I believe Rafe Reynolds was a man worthy of a decent burial, whether anyone else feels that way or not. His son hasn’t even been told of his death, at least not to my knowledge. I haven’t seen the boy all day.” He paused and pretended to have a great thought. “Isn’t it possible that Dave and Cubby might be together? I thought them to be good friends.”
“So you’re telling me that you know nothing about Dave’s whereabouts?” the sheriff countered.
Jefferson folded his arms against his chest. “No. I really couldn’t say where anyone has taken themselves. I’ve been too consumed in my grief.”
“What do you know about the murder of Jonathan Webster, otherwise known as Big John?”
Mulholland shrugged. “Nothing. Should I know something?”
“You did know the man, didn’t you?”
“I believe there was a man going by that name who frequented Rafe’s Saloon, but otherwise, no. We weren’t associates.” An uneasiness came over him. What was the sheriff really trying to learn? Had they come at the behest of the Gallatins to aid in searching for Dave Shepard, or were they here for an entirely different reason? Jefferson wasn’t about to stand by and be taken if he could fight his way out. He moved back toward his things.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to be on my way.”
The sheriff stepped toward him. “Why not wait until morning, Mulholland?”
Catching sight of movement behind the sheriff, Jefferson was only too aware of the deputies reaching for their revolvers. “I don’t understand what this is about.”
“Well, it’s like this: I have a signed statement that suggests you were responsible for a great many problems in this community,” the sheriff started. “Not only that, but until we locate Deputy Shepard, I’m going to hold you on suspicion of his disappearance, as well.”
“I’ve done nothing to merit this action,” Jefferson said, moving a few steps closer to his things. If he could get to his saddlebags, he might be able to retrieve his derringer.
“You need to stop right where you are. These boys are gonna take you into custody.”
Two of the deputies moved toward him. Jefferson thought to make a dash for his gun but instead stood in wait. “You have the wrong man, Sheriff. I assure you I know nothing about Dave Shepard.”
“That’s funny,” a bruised and bloodied Dave said as he stepped into the dimly lit saloon. “I distinctly recall that you instructed Wyman Jenkins to kill me. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago.”
Jefferson couldn’t contain his surprise. He fought to keep a cool exterior, but it was like watching a ghost rise from the grave. Wyman should have killed Shepard by then.
“Dave! You look like you tangled with a wildcat,” the sheriff said. “What in the world happened to you?”
“It seems our Mr. Mulholland conspired with Rafe and Wyman to see me dead. I have witnesses, in the form of prisoners, just outside the door. You’ll want to talk to them, but they’ll confirm that Mulholland also worked with Wyman to see to the death of Big John.”
“What about Wyman?” the sheriff asked.
“He’s dead,” Dave replied. “When he tried to kill Lacy and me, Cubby shot him and saved our lives. Body is outside, tied to the back of a horse.”
Jefferson glanced to one side. If he left his things, he might be able to reach the back door. He could push the sheriff aside and send him into the path of the deputies. Then no one could even attempt to shoot at him without the risk of hitting their boss.
“I wouldn’t, Mulholland,” Dave said, coming closer. “I can almost read your mind. You think you’re gonna get out of this, but you’re not. You’ve caused enough trouble to last a lifetime, which is probably what your crimes are going to cost you.”
Narrowing his eyes, Mulholland fought back his rage. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t care how many people you have to speak against me. I’m innocent.”
“Hardly. I think we’ve got a pretty solid case against you, what with Big John’s confession to the judge and the willingness of the men outside to turn over evidence to see you found guilty.”
Dave turned to the sheriff as the two deputies moved to take hold of Jefferson. “There’s a couple of decent storage rooms inside the addition at Gallatin House. We can put him in one room and the others in the second. Post a couple of men at each door and they should be secure until morning.”
The sheriff nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
Lacy allowed Nick to take her horse, along with the others, back to the corral. She wanted to see what was happening at the saloon but knew it was probably just as well that she let Dave do his job.
Coming up the steps to Gallatin House, she was surprised to find Cubby sitting on the porch. The shadowy darkness kept her from seeing his face, but she knew it was him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Cubby said nothing for a few moments. He got to his feet and went to the rail. “I guess so. It seems so strange to realize my father is dead. I never thought about Pa dying before.”
“I know. I never thought about my pa dying, either.”
He turned to her, and the soft glow from the front room window gave her just enough light to discern the outline of his face. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that my pa was responsible, Lacy. I knew he had something to do with it. I have known for a while now; I just couldn’t prove it and didn’t know exactly what it was.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to help you. I wanted to make you love me and see me as a man who was strong enough to take care of you.”
Lacy nodded. “You are an incredible man, Quennell.” She hoped that by using his given name, he might understand that she truly saw him as grown up.
“You don’t have to call me that.” He turned back to the porch railing and leaned out to look above to the skies. “Hank helped me to see that a name wasn’t going to make me a man—only my actions would do that.”
“And you more than proved yourself tonight.” She put her hand on his arm. “Cubby, my inability to fall in love with you had nothing to do with you. It had everything to do with the fact that I was already in love. I just didn’t know it.”
“How could you not? Love is such a powerful thing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. If you were really in love with Dave Shepard, how could you not know it?”
Lacy laughed softly. “I’ve been asking myself that, too. I think my crusade to find Pa’s killer tainted everything else in me. It wouldn’t let me consider any other feeling except revenge.” She paused and sighed. “I certainly never meant to hurt you.”
He said nothing for several moments. “Hank asked me to come live with them.”
“I know. I think it’s a good idea.”