Mary Connealy (99 page)

“Now, miss”—the sheriff’s brow beetled and he pulled his hat from his poor wounded head—“I didn’t know about the village massacre. Someone has to report a crime before I can arrest someone for it.”

Abby had to admit that the sheriff couldn’t arrest a man for a crime that no one had even told him about. And from the look of his bloody bandage, the lawman had his own reasons to want these men caught very badly. It wasn’t all about cows.

“You and Wade didn’t even bother to ride into town and tell me about it.” The sheriff shifted his eyes to Wade. “I saw you in town, Sawyer. You’ve ridden in at least once since you’ve been back. You didn’t say a
word
about murder.”

“You don’t go out to the countryside, Sheriff. And Abby’s village was located at least two days’ ride away from town. I didn’t even consider telling you about it.”

“I reckon you’re right. I wouldn’t have gone out to try and catch an outlaw that far from Divide.” The sheriff sighed and rubbed his head. “I’m sorry to admit that’s true, Miss Linscott. But I don’t really have jurisdiction in the countryside. I don’t worry about trouble unless it comes into my town.”

It burned Abby to hear him say it, but she had to admire the man for looking her in the eye and admitting the truth. How was she ever going to find her place in this white world? Abby’s eyes went to Tom Linscott. “You really are my brother, aren’t you?”

“I do believe I am, Abby girl.” Tom turned to Wade. “I’ll be riding out to your ranch with you, Sawyer. I want to spend some time with my sister. Meanwhile, I’ve told my men to start building a cabin.”

“She’s working for me, Tom.” Wade got that bulled-up look in his eye, and he had the same tone she’d heard when Wade had snarled, “She’s mine,” to Tom.

Insulting. Yet Abby felt a softening in her heart to have two men wanting to take care of her. She didn’t need them for protection, but maybe she wanted them to care just a little.

“Come on out, though. We’d love to have you.” Wade’s hand stayed on her back, more firmly pressed against her spine now. Definitely support, since she suspected Wade wouldn’t mind one bit if she pulled her blade on Tom.

Abby thought of Mort Sawyer and sniffed in disgust. A clear lie—Wade wasn’t even bothering to fake honesty. She marveled at finding a brother, even an arrogant, unpleasant one. Couldn’t she have found a better family than him? Wade would have made a better brother to her. But thinking of Wade as a brother wasn’t comfortable. She didn’t care to examine why.

“Come in to services on Sunday morning.” Cassie gave Abby a huge hug.

Abby found herself nose to nose with the little redheaded boy on Cassie’s back while receiving her hug. The boy blew a spit bubble at her and smiled. Abby smiled back. After receiving the prolonged hug from Cassie, which Abby found she rather enjoyed, she mounted her horse and they headed for the M Bar S.

Wade, Tom, the sheriff, and five others from town rode along.

“This is the place.” Abby pressed her knees into the sides of her pinto and turned the horse to the wooded area by the trail. “Judging by the stench, I’d say there were three of them.”

Tom shook his head a bit hard. Abby had seen dogs around the Flathead village shake themselves that way when they’d come out of the river, and yet Tom was bone dry. White men made no sense.

When Abby reached the edge of the woods, she saw immediately the tracks of three men coming out of the forest onto the trail. A trail that had been trod heavily by the cattle Wade’s cowhands had driven home.

Tom and the sheriff and his men all swung down and began studying the tracks.

“They could have shot us dead, three men. We had some riders with us, but we’d have been sitting ducks.” Wade rode up to her side, his eyes examining the ground. Then he looked sideways at Abby and spoke softly, his words only for her. “If these are the men who kidnapped you after the massacre and attacked us at the ranch, why did they pass up a chance to finish things this morning?”

Abby looked from Wade to the tracks and back again.

“Cowards, I’d say. They could probably have killed us all shooting from cover and not gotten a scratch, but they didn’t want to take that chance. These men have proven themselves to be cowards with every move they’ve made. Attacking defenseless women and children, kidnapping a lone woman.”

“You weren’t exactly defenseless.” Wade smiled at her. “I’m glad you fought them. I’m glad you hurt the man who put his hands on you.”

“Are you glad you put a bullet into one of them?”

Wade’s smile shrank to something grim. “It had to be done. That’s not the same as being glad.”

“Then that’s a difference between us, Sawyer. Because my only regret is that he wasn’t hurt worse and that he was gone this morning and I didn’t get my hands on him in that jail cell.”

“We’ll never follow tracks in this rocky soil.” The sheriff rubbed the white bandage on his head.

Elders were respected in her tribe, and she had to force herself to mind the sheriff. Men had pride, and Abby doubted the sheriff would thank her. But he wasn’t up to chasing outlaws and that was a fact.

“Let’s follow the trail back toward Divide. Study it, see if we can get a feel for their horses,” the sheriff suggested.

“You don’t even know it’s the right men.” Wade raised his Stetson and ran one hand through his hair before putting his hat back on.

“No, and that’s the plain truth.” The sheriff stared at the tracks. “But why sit in the woods and watch you go by? It’s suspicious behavior, enough to make me wonder. I’ll follow the trail back into the woods, see where it leads.”

Abby watched the sheriff and his men leave. Wade, Tom, and Abby were left alone.

Wade nudged his horse forward, and the three of them rode abreast. “I didn’t go into details yet, Tom, because we just haven’t had time, but someone tried to kill Abby after she came to the M Bar S. He shot an arrow at her, tried to make it look like an Indian attack.”

Wade and Tom exchanged a long look that excluded her, as if they were in charge of her protection. As if she couldn’t protect herself well enough. As if, when things got bad as they were sure to do with murderers on the loose, she wouldn’t probably have to save herself and both of them, too. It made Abby want to bang their heads together.

“So does this have to do with the massacre or the rustlers?” Tom looked at Abby as if he was counting all the reasons someone would want to kill her.

Wade shrugged. “I don’t know. I brought her to town with me today mainly because I don’t like her being alone out there, even with Gertie. I think someone tried to kill Pa and make it look like an accident. I’ve been trying to never let her go anywhere alone. That’s another good reason she should stay with me. With the house she’s got some protection. At your place she’d be out in the open all the time.”

“She could stay inside at my place.” Cranky Tom was not a woman’s dream of a brother.

“Your house is a falling down shack.” Wade sounded as bristly as a porcupine. “She’d go crazy in there before the first day was over and be outside doing something.”

“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.” Abby was tempted to smack them both in the back of the head.

“I’ve already told my men to start leveling ground for a bigger house.”

“Good for you. About time. I hope you’ll be very happy living there alone.”

“Shut up, Sawyer. It’s for Abby. And I can afford to make it real nice.”

“Better make it a tepee or she’ll start insulting you just like she does my pa.”

Wade smiled at Abby and she shook her head. Why did her insults to his father cheer him up?

“It won’t be a big dumb house like the one you built.”

“My pa built it, not me.”

“But it’ll have plenty of room. I’ve just never bothered when it was only me and my cowpokes.” Tom turned and studied Abby with eyes that surprised her. Kind eyes. They didn’t go with the gruff man. “I want to talk to you about our life. I’ll help you remember everything. Leastways everything I know about. And that falling down shack I’m in is where you lived. It’s the house Pa built before he died. I—I—” As Tom fell silent, Abby wondered what it was he couldn’t say. He’d shown no shortage of words up until now.

“You what?”

“I love you, baby sister.” From the strained look on Tom’s face, Abby sensed that the man didn’t talk much about feelings. In that way he was far more like Wild Eagle than Wade.

Abby stared, trying to absorb the words. “I remember you so slightly and all in bits and pieces. I know I loved my white family. I imagine that includes you. I would love to talk with you about the early days of my life.”

Tom jerked his chin in a satisfied nod. “Good. I told my men I might be a couple days coming home, so we can really spend some time together.”

“Well, have fun,” Wade said. “I’m going to be busy with roundup.”

Tom did a poor job of covering a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re not done with roundup ….”

Wade kicked his horse into a ground-eating gallop, leaving Abby and Tom in his dust.

“I wonder what’s the matter with him?” Abby decided to ride faster, too, rather than be left with her grouchy, confusing brother.

A
re you still here?” Wade came into the house and his mood dropped so low he’d need to get a shovel and dig for it. And he’d been cheerful a second ago. The roundup was finally done.

“You said I could stay and get to know my sister.” Tom smiled, as content and lazy as a housecat. The lazy lug was sprawled in one of the kitchen chairs watching Abby and Gertie get supper.

“Did you get done, Wade?” Gertie tapped a heavy metal spoon against a pot bubbling on the massive black stove that took up an entire corner of the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Tom said, “I can’t believe you’re just now done—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, done with roundup, I know!” Wade jerked his gloves off and tossed them onto the floor below a row of elk horns. He hung up his hat and turned back to the room, running ten fingers through his hair to smooth it, and since his hands were busy, it also kept him from strangling their houseguest. Vermin could have moved into the house and been better company than Tom Linscott.

Pa rolled his chair into the room. Wade noticed that the old grouch was getting around pretty well in the contraption. “You about done with the roundup, Wade? I can’t believe you’re still—” “We’re done, Pa.” Wade cut him off and slid his eyes between his father and the king-sized rodent who had moved in. “I haven’t been nagged like this since you tried to teach me how to rope a maverick calf.”

“You were hard to teach roping?” Tom rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“I was five years old at the time. And Pa’s idea of teaching was mainly yelling his head off and swinging the back of his hand. Roping lessons aren’t exactly my favorite childhood memory.”

Tom looked sideways at Pa with contempt. Wade’s mood further deteriorated. A stubborn, short-tempered grouch like Tom Linscott knew better how to raise a child than Wade’s pa. Didn’t that just beat all?

“Supper’s ready.” Abby brought a stack of plates to Gertie, who began scooping beef stew, thick with potatoes and carrots and onions.

Working from can-see to can’t-see for all this time had left Wade thin and hungry and cranky. Right now that stew smelled so good it was all he could do not to dive headfirst into the boiling pot.

He washed up quickly at the kitchen sink, and his heart warmed when Abby brought his plate first. By rights she should have served Pa first, then Tom because he was company. Abby wasn’t too interested in polite ways, and anyway, it was fitting he got the first plate. He was the only man at this table who’d worked a hard day.

“Abby and I are done with your pa’s ramp now,” Tom announced.

Okay, so maybe they’d done a little something.

Abby put a plate in front of Pa next.

“And we got the old buckboard out and tore out the tailgate and the seat so Mort can roll right up and grab the reins.” Tom watched Abby with the affectionate eyes of a brother, a grouchy brother.

Maybe Tom had done more than just a little. Wade started eating to reassure his growling stomach that his throat hadn’t been cut.

“And with the ramp done, Mort can roll straight out the kitchen door onto the thing and drive easy as you please.”

Fine, they’d put in a good day, then. Big deal. How many thousand-pound longhorns had they wrangled?

Tom got his food and dug right in. “And Mort took the buckboard for a ride around the yard, didn’t you?”

“Sure did. Felt great.” Pa sounded happier with Tom than he ever had with anything that Wade had done since birth. “I might ride into town in a few days. Oughta build up some strength in my arms first, though. Hard to get back to working when a man’s been sitting around for weeks on end.”

Wade sat at the foot of the table, Pa at the head. Tom was on Wade’s left with his back to the wall. Gertie and Abby took up two seats on Wade’s right. Abby next to Wade. He could have reached out and touched her.

Tom might have pulled his six-shooter and killed him. It was obvious the man was watching their every move. But it was nice to know she was within reach. Now if Wade could only get a few minutes alone with her, just to talk. He’d little more than exchanged greetings with her since Tom had as good as moved into the house. And he’d thought Gertie was a tough chaperone.

He sighed and continued shoveling in the stew.

“So how soon until we can do the drive?” Pa was a mighty bossy man for someone who’d been outside for the first time all spring just today. “It’s almost time now.”

Wade had to quit wolfing down his food to answer. “We’ll leave the cattle on the closest pastures for the next week. We’ll move them around so the grass stays thick for them, try and get the yearling calves fattened up before we cut the herd and drive them to Helena.”

“They should have been on those pastures a month ago.” Pa glared at Wade.

“Yes, they should have, Pa. Why weren’t they?”

“Because you weren’t here.” Pa pounded the table with his fist, but the silverware didn’t jump. No doubt the man would build up to that if he kept talking.