Before the Larkspur Blooms (25 page)

“I’m getting a little sleepy. I think it’s the sherry.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Me, too.”

His hands massaged her back, his fingers doing magical things to her tensed muscles. “Tell me about the letters you’re getting from the orphanage.” He’d dropped his voice down a notch as if trying to purposefully sound mysterious.

Jessie slowly sat up, looked into Chase’s face. Her dark eyes were pools of uncertainty. “What do you mean?”

He reached behind him and pulled her letters from his pocket. “I found these looking for your shawl. Can’t begin to fathom what might keep you from opening up a letter from anyone, let alone bossy Mrs. Hobbs, so I didn’t even try. I want to hear it from you.”

It took her a moment to get her wits about her.

The letters.

Chase had stumbled on the letters she’d so foolishly stuffed in the bottom of her dresser drawer. She should have realized he was going in for her shawl when he’d asked if she was cold.

“Jessie?” He tipped her chin up. “Why didn’t you open the other two? Months ago, when I brought you the first letter, you told me she was just sending a hello. Checking up on you. Is it more than that, darlin’?”

She tried to stand, needing secure footing under her before launching into this, but Chase held her back. “Chase, let me up.” Worry made her voice thick.

“I don’t want to. Now, you’re keeping me warm,” he teased. He nuzzled her neck. “Jess?”

Knowing he wasn’t going to give up so easily, she gently plucked the letters from his fingers. “I didn’t open them because all that busybody does is gossip. I don’t want to be a part of that. If I don’t reply, she’ll get the idea without me having to explain.”

She felt his body relax. “Fine then. You’d tell me if it were something more?”

“Yes.”

Unable to look at him a moment longer, Jessie glanced down toward the creek, the letters practically burning her fingertips. Her heart shivered for telling Chase a lie. Well, it wasn’t all a lie. But she couldn’t share her fears with him now, not with all the trouble he was having with the disappearing cattle. He was already preoccupied enough with catching the rustlers. Distracting him might put his life in danger. Her conscience pricked, and she knew protecting Chase was not the real reason for her keeping quiet, but she pushed the feelings away. In all honesty, she expected the interest in Sarah to just die away. It had been so many years since they’d adopted her. It wasn’t
her
little girl the woman who’d contacted Mrs. Hobbs was looking for. There were lots of young girls in orphanages. Surely they weren’t looking for Sarah. Sarah was hers.

E
arly Monday morning Thom headed straight for the sheriff’s office. His vision had cleared—he’d not dwell on something he had no power to fix. But there was something he could fix. Rustling was bad business. It usually escalated into all kinds of other crimes, including murder. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to Chase or Jessie or anyone else. All he could do was report what he knew and then stay out of trouble.

On entering the sheriff’s office, he found Chase Logan there already in conversation with Albert. Albert was sitting behind his desk, and Chase was resting a hip on the top.

Thom removed his hat and held it. Chase’s face went void of expression, and Thom wondered, after the strained day yesterday, which way Hannah’s friend was leaning.

“Thom.” By the red stains on the sheriff’s cheeks, he figured they’d just been discussing him.

Thom tipped his head at each man.

Albert motioned to the chairs against the wall. “Pull up a seat and then get yourself a cup of coffee.”

Thom nodded.
Why not?
He was tired of walking on eggshells. He hadn’t done anything wrong. After pulling over a chair, he poured some black brew into a none-too-clean cup and sat down. Looking uncomfortable, Chase stood and retrieved a chair. He turned it around and straddled it.

“Chase was just telling me about the close call you had yesterday at the picnic with little Shane. Thank God you two were able to right the situation before the child was hurt.”

“I want to thank you, Donovan,” Chase said. “Your clear thinking helped save my son. I was remiss in not saying so yesterday. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He took a sip of his coffee, remembering the size of the scorpion. “It was Ivan who sensed the danger.”

“Well, the dog belongs to you. Jessie and I are indebted.”

Thom accepted his thanks with a nod. “I have something I need to talk to you about.” He looked at the sheriff. Chase stood to leave. “I’d like you to stay, Chase. It may or may not concern you. I don’t know.” That got both men’s undivided attention. Logan sat.

“Go on,” Albert said, sitting forward.

“Eleven days ago when I arrived in Logan Meadows, a man from my past was playing cards in the saloon. The head of the rustling outfit that I mistakenly hooked up with when I was a boy.” He turned and looked directly at Chase. “Rome Littleton.”

Chase jumped to his feet. “Rome Littleton!” His voice was hard, accusing. If he and Chase
had
come to a truce, it was now gone.

“That’s right. The night the law closed in, he’d ridden out late and was nowhere to be seen. Everyone was hanged there on the spot, and I was taken in to stand trial.” He gave Albert a look he hoped the sheriff would interpret correctly—he didn’t want his medical history divulged, even to Chase. “Until yesterday, I didn’t know there was any rustling going on. Now that I do know, I feel compelled to say something.”

“Why didn’t you come forward before?” Chase, a handful of years older, was wiser by a mile.

“I should have.” Even though he knew Chase had a right to be angry, Thom didn’t like the blame he sensed being tossed his way. He’d not broken any laws.

“Maybe my prize bull would still be in my pasture if you had.”

Thom’s guarded mood veered sharply toward anger. His face went hot.

As if wanting to break the tension, Albert stood and went to fill his cup. “What’s done is done. You can’t place that at Thom’s door, Chase.”

“I’m a falsely convicted ex-convict. For rustling, no less.” Unable to sit a moment longer, Thom stood. “How would the good townsfolk take it if I was to march into the sheriff’s office and, first thing, accuse one of their own of cattle stealing?” Thom felt the tic in his jaw as he clenched and released.
Hang on to your temper
, he cautioned himself. “Littleton was never convicted of anything. Hell, no one alive but me even knows he was part of the gang. It’s my word against his. And I don’t feel like going back to prison.”

Chase’s eyes took on a glint of understanding.

“What’s he do here in Logan Meadows?” Thom asked. “Own a ranch? What?”

“He’s been around these parts going on two years. We don’t know much about him ’cept he owns a spread over in New Meringue. Comes into town from time to time to play poker,” Albert said, now back in his chair.

“He knows my man, Blake Hansen.” Chase was shaking his head as he gazed at a spot on the wall behind Albert. Looked as if he was going over in his mind every detail he knew about the man. “Jake found him and another fellow riding around on Broken Horn land for the heck of it last Tuesday. Said they were looking for rustlers, since his ranch had been hit, too.” He paused and looked at Albert. “I think we should keep this just between us until we know more.”

Thom shifted his weight. “There
is
more. He brought his gelding into the livery. Horse threw a shoe and came up lame. Win pulled the rest and said the animal needed some time off. Littleton rented a mount from Win for the time being. Horse’s still there.” They exchanged glances, digesting that information.

The cling of spurred boots neared the door. Dwight stopped as soon as he entered, taking in the scene. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly at Thom.

Albert stood. “Morning, Dwight,” he said, going back to the coffeepot. “We were just talking about the new depot. Word has it the men are breaking ground within the week.”

“That so?”

“Indeed. A Union Pacific wagon arrived yesterday, and the workers are camping in the festival grounds. I want you to keep an eye out for any shenanigans. I won’t stand for anyone starting trouble in my town,” Albert said.

Dwight smirked. “How many?”

“About twenty. More will arrive in a day or two.”

Thom pushed his hat on. “Well, I need to get over to the livery.” He set his empty cup on a tray next to the stove. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime, Thom,” Albert said. Chase just watched him go.

H
annah pushed through the line of people waiting to get into her restaurant and stopped in the doorway of the Silky Hen, her mouth agape. She had never seen anything like it in her life. Especially on a Monday. The note from Susanna asking her to get to the restaurant as soon as possible was crumpled in her hand.

Markus laughed in delight. “Can I help, Mommy?”

The room was loud, packed with customers, and hot. She knew some faces, but others were a complete mystery. People ate from heaping plates, and others looked at her with expectant eyes. Her mother clomped by, red-faced, her hair drooping in her eyes. Two bowls of stew tottered in her hands. “Don’t just stand there, Hannah. Susanna needs your help in the kitchen!”

“Hey, lady. When are we gonna get some food?” a portly man yelled from the far wall. He pounded a weighty fist on the tabletop. “Been here a good half hour and don’t even have a glass of water to show for it.”

His partner nodded. “Yeah. I’m hungry!”

“You’re next,” Roberta replied in a weary voice. “I’ll be right with you.”

That jarred Hannah out of her surprised stupor. Pushing past four scraggly looking men and a teenage boy, she practically ran through the swinging kitchen door, Markus in tow. A countertop filled with pots and pans and a sink overflowing with dirty dishes greeted her.

Susanna gasped, “Thank God you’re here. We’ve been running since I first unlocked the door!”

Susanna’s usual put-together charm was blown to bits. Her milky-white skin was drenched in sweat. Gravy and an array of other foodstuffs marred her white apron. Her always perfectly tied apron bow was totally cockeyed. That alone said just how hard-pressed she really was.

“We’re practically out of
everything
,” she said, gasping. “And we still have a passel of mouths, mostly male mouths, that we need to feed. Here.” She shoved a large ceramic bowl into Hannah’s arms as she blew a drooping hank of hair from out of her eyes. “You can finish the biscuits and get them in the oven. I need to slice the roast and make more gravy for six orders of beef and gravy.”

Hannah took the bowl but set it to the side. They needed help. And fast. For as long as she could remember Thom had always been there for her. From the time he’d picked her up off the ground, to the afternoon he’d stood up to Roberta after Hannah had hidden in his wagon, telling her mother Hannah had fallen asleep in the back and hadn’t known she was on her way to New Meringue. Yes, Thom would help her if he could. She snatched a pencil from her mother’s pocket as the older woman rushed into the kitchen. As fast as she could write, she scribbled out a note on the back of the one Susanna had sent her and put it in Markus’s hand. “Run over to the livery. Be quick. Maybe Win will let him come to our rescue.” She gave Markus a little push. “Hurry, son!”

Markus raced through the back door, and Hannah grabbed her apron. She finished the dough, rolled it out on the floured countertop, and cut out two dozen biscuits with the rim of a coffee cup. Tossing them haphazardly onto two baking sheets, she shoved them into the hot oven. That done, she snatched the knife from Susanna’s hands and turned her friend toward her. With a napkin, she wiped the sweat from her face. “I’ll take over in here. You go out and help Mother. Those men are running her ragged.”

“Gladly. Anything to get away from that hot beast.” She gave the oven a scornful stare. “Now, don’t forget about the biscuits in the oven—they’re all spoken for—and start a new batch as soon as the six beef and gravy plates are ready. The railroad men are going through them like a lamb on fresh clover.”