Forever and Always (8 page)

Jared looked like he was about to say something when a thought made him stop and regard Logan with a curious expression. “You wouldn't be the stranger who shot all the thieves, would you?”

His question stunned Logan. “Why would you think that?”

“Sibyl says he was a stranger who disappeared before everyone came rushing into the bank. She says she was so shocked she never really got a look at him. As far as I know, you're the only stranger in town.”

“Do I look like a gunman to you?”

“I doubt he was a gunman. I'd say a marksman was more likely.”

Logan was glad to know his brother was intelligent, but he didn't like what Jared was doing with that astuteness at the moment. “No doubt you're right,” Logan said. “That means it was probably someone who'd been in the army. You said there was a fort not far from here.”

“I never met a soldier who wouldn't have been eager to take credit for a feat like that. They'd have been after a reward, too.”

“Maybe it was a retired soldier who didn't need the money or want the notoriety.”

“Or maybe it wasn't a soldier at all. Sibyl, Cassie, and Horace say they can't describe him, but I don't think they're telling the truth.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Sibyl and Horace can tell a lie with a straight face, but Cassie is as transparent as glass. A child could tell she was lying.”

“Why would they pretend they couldn't describe him? You'd think they'd be eager to tell everyone what the man looked like and who he was.”

“That's what you would think, which makes them doing the opposite intriguing.”

“Well, I'm sure they have their reasons. When the time is right, I expect they'll tell you what they know.”

“We'll see. In the meantime, keep an eye out for a stranger who's handy with a gun. Until then, I'll be keeping an eye on you. A friendly eye,” Jared added. “Like I said, Steve likes you, and I trust the boy's instincts.”

“I liked him, too,” Logan said. “He seems to be a fine young man.”

Jared turned to the dog, who had never taken his eyes off him. “Have you given him a name?”

“He's not mine. Why should I name him?”

“I think
you're his
,” Jared said. “You might as well give him a name.
Dog
seems an unappreciative way to refer to such a staunch friend.”

Jared mounted up. “Why don't you drop by the ranch sometime? I'd like you to meet my family.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Do you have anything against meeting new people? My wife loves company. She says the ranch is too far out for most people. She keeps threatening to move back into town.”

“I'll think about it, but it's usually late by the time I get back from the bank.”

“Then come for supper. Laurie is a great cook. That's the main reason half my men still work for me.”

“I'll think about it.”

“I'll send Steve to persuade you.” He rode away before Logan could respond.

Logan watched him go, pensive.

Jared had too much of what Logan had missed in life—a wife, children, friends, and a focus in life other than work. He wondered if his father had missed those things. Did adopting a son make up for everything else? Would he have gone through life thinking of little beyond work if he hadn't gotten sick? Was one of the reasons he had been willing to marry Bridgette—despite knowing she didn't care for him—that she wouldn't distract him from his job? He couldn't answer those questions, but he did know that getting sick had changed all the answers.

“I suppose being beaten so badly changed things for you, too,” he said to the dog. “Otherwise you wouldn't be willing to spend your time in the woods with me.”

The dog whined and moved closer. He didn't appear ready to come within reach, but he seemed willing to trust Logan. At least as long as he fed him.

“Would you like a name?” he asked the dog. “I suppose you already have one, but I don't know what it is. I guess a new life deserves a new name. What do you think?”

The dog whined and crept a little closer.

“How about Trusty? It's not very imaginative, but it's something that's important to both of us.”

The dog dipped his head and whined, but he didn't move any closer.

“I don't blame you. I'd never hurt you, but I'm not the person I thought I was. I wonder if any one of us is.”

The dog just watched him.

“How about I fix something to eat? After that, we can go hunting. Would you like that?”

The dog's tail thumped against the soft earth.

“I thought you would. Always thinking about your belly. Come on. I've got a little deer meat left.”

He headed to where he'd stored the meat in a bear hang, the dog padding after him.

* * *

Bridgette waved a telegram in Dr. Pittman's face. “The Pinkerton we sent found him just like you said he would, but he refuses to come back.”

“I didn't expect he would.”

James had come to take her to the opera. For the occasion, Bridgette was wearing her new Worth gown made of pink silk. The skirt and muslin overskirt were trimmed with a plaiting of white French muslin headed with a Valenciennes insertion. It had a cuirass bodice and muslin sleeves. It had cost her far more than she could afford. If Elliot couldn't be convinced to return to Chicago and marry her, she'd soon be out of money.

“Why not?” she asked. “What reason could he have for staying in a place like Cactus Corner? That sounds like a desert.”

“I doubt it matters to him where he is,” the doctor said.

“But he's got one of the biggest houses in Chicago. He's got a cook, maids, a butler, and goodness knows how many more people to look after him. Who will take care of him in a place like that?”

“He thinks he's going to die. Maybe all that doesn't matter as much to him now.”

Bridgette frowned. “You sound like you sympathize with him.”

“I'm only trying to put myself in his shoes, imagine what he is thinking.”

Bridgette flounced across the room, dropped onto a sofa, and fanned herself vigorously. “While you're at it,
imagine
what will bring him back to Chicago.”

“I don't think anything will except you.”

“Me! Why not you?”

“You're the one he was supposed to marry.”

“
You're
his doctor.”

“He doesn't have any faith left in medicine. If he had, he wouldn't have left Chicago.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Go after him?”

“Go after him!” Snapping her fan closed, Bridgette sat ramrod straight, her voice rising to a near shriek. “You can't seriously think I'd go to a place called Cactus Corner.”

“You will if you want him to come back to Chicago.”

Bridgette's pouting had never worked on her uncle or Elliot, but it always worked on James. At her hurt look, he dropped down on the sofa next to her and took her hands in his. “Forget about him,” he pleaded. “I'm rich enough to give you anything you want.”

Bridgette jerked her hands away. “What I
want
is the money that rightfully belongs to me,” she said from between clenched teeth. “I will not let it go to that
foundling
. I'm the only living relative Uncle Samuel had.”

“He's going to die. Even without a will, I'm sure the courts will give you the money.”

“He won't die unless he keeps taking the poisoned medicine you gave him. Besides, who knows who he might meet out there? In his condition, some clever woman night convince him to leave everything to her.”

“The telegram says he's camping in the woods and living like a tramp.”

“That won't make any difference. I expect everybody in Cactus Corner looks like a tramp.” She turned on the charm and smiled at James. “Won't you go after him for me?”

Much to her surprise, James proved surprisingly unhelpful. “I can't go. It would take months. What would I do about my practice?”

“All those old biddies would still come flocking to you,” Bridgette snapped. “You're the handsomest doctor in Chicago as well as the best.”

“I have several patients undergoing serious treatments. I couldn't possibly leave even if I wanted to.”

Bridgette was surprised she couldn't bend James to her will this time, but she had spent her life living with uncooperative men. Her father, uncle, and fiancé had all been stubborn, unfeeling men who'd shown a callous disregard for her desires. Her father had never provided her with the kind of house or the style of clothes she deserved. Her uncle had always preferred his adopted son to his blood kin, and Elliot had insisted they had plenty of time before they needed to get married.

That's why she'd had to talk James into poisoning him.

If James hadn't been besotted with her, he never would have agreed. Even then, it had taken her the better part of a year and the threat of seeing her married to another man to make him relent. She didn't have that kind of time to convince him to go after Elliot.

“Give up trying to get your uncle's fortune,” James urged. “I never thought it was a good idea to try to poison Elliot. Let him give his money to anyone he wants.”

“I can't!” Bridgette practically shouted. “It'll drive me crazy knowing he left
my
money to perfect strangers. I've got to stop him.”

“I don't see how you can do that.”

Bridgette took a deep breath. “I'm going to Cactus Corner. That's how I'm going to stop him. Unless you'll change your mind and go for me.”

“I've done all I'm going to do, and that's more than a man with a conscience would have done.”

“Are you saying I have no conscience?”

James backed down. “I was speaking only of myself.”

“I'll need more of the medicine.”

“There's no point in giving him more. He already has enough to kill two men.”

* * *

Logan stared at the figures in the book. He had no trouble understanding what he saw. They just didn't make sense. Money didn't materialize out of nowhere. It had to come from somewhere. All of the other books made sense. Why should this one be different?

He had no reason to be looking at these books. They reached back to the days when Norman Spencer lived in Kentucky, but Logan had been bored. Kitty had come down with a cold, and Sibyl had decided to stay home with her. With nothing specific to do, Logan had decided to leaf through some of the books Norman had kept in his safe. He'd been surprised at the number of loans Norman had negotiated five years ago, as well as the extremely low interest rates. He'd been told that Norman was a hard, unforgiving person who tried to wring every possible cent from his clients. If that was true, why had he handed out loans practically for free? It was none of his business, but it didn't fit with everything he'd been told about Norman.

But it was the large sum of money that suddenly appeared on the books that confused him. He wasn't exactly surprised at the appearance of such a sum, but there was no explanation, not even a hint of its origin. The timing intrigued him as well. The year was 1863, in the middle of the War between the States. Confederate and Union forces battled for control of Kentucky, but it was unlikely that either army would have agreed to buy anything they could take by force. It must have been the sale of property or an inheritance from Norman's father.

He was putting the books away when Sibyl entered the office.

“I thought you were staying home today,” Logan said.

“I was, but Kitty is so much better she begged to go out and play. I wasn't going to let her, but Naomi said she was no longer infectious.”

“You should have stayed home and rested.”

Sibyl removed her hat and placed it on a table next to the door. “I'm not tired.”

“You sat up with Kitty for two nights. You've got to be worn out.”

“I thought I would be, but I got so fidgety I decided I might as well go to work. What have you been doing while I was gone?”

“Looking over some old ledgers from the years in Kentucky. I'm surprised Norman kept them this long.”

Sibyl hung up her lightweight jacket and turned to her desk. “Norman kept everything. Did you find anything interesting?”

“A couple things were curious.”

Sibyl sat down at her desk and turned to face Logan. “Like what?”

“Norman made an unusually large number of loans five years ago. I know that's when the town was established, but it looks like he lent the money with so little interest it hardly mattered. That doesn't sound like the Norman who was so disagreeable and controlling that people banded together to start a new bank.”

“Things were different then. Norman changed later.” Rather than face Logan, Sibyl fiddled with things on her desk.

“Why were things different?”

“It's a long story.”

“We've got all afternoon. There's not likely to be any business Horace can't handle.” It looked like Sibyl wasn't going to say anything more. It was obvious she didn't want to. “I don't mean to press. I was just curious.”

“It's not a secret,” Sibyl said, still not facing him. “Not everyone wanted to leave Kentucky. It was just after the war, when it was virtually impossible to sell property for anything like its real value. People turned their property over to Norman on condition that he give them money to start over.”

“That couldn't have been it. The money appeared on the books two years before everyone left Kentucky.”

“Why are you so interested in what happened so long ago? I told you Norman never discussed business with me.”

The sharpness of Sibyl's tone startled Logan. “I was just curious.”

Logan didn't doubt that Norman kept all knowledge of his business dealings from his wife—his uncle would never have thought of discussing his business with Bridgette—but Sibyl suspected something, and it was something she didn't want to talk about. “I didn't mean to sound like I'm demanding answers. It was just something I didn't understand.”