Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] (30 page)

He wondered if other men carried around the weight of regret that he did inside him. If he’d known beforehand how things were going to play out, he never would have encouraged Thomas and Rachel to move out here. Thinking of how Rachel would likely react to seeing him again, he decided he probably needed to provide Elizabeth some insight on the family’s recent history.

“McPherson lives here with his sister and her two boys. Last fall, he moved out here to help after Rachel’s—”

“Husband was killed.” Elizabeth nodded. “I remember hearing about that.”

Daniel guided the horse to the post in front of the cabin, wondering what else she’d heard about it. He dismounted and helped her down, then tethered the mare.

Lightly holding Elizabeth’s arm, he climbed the stairs to the darkened porch. No light shone through the windows. He knocked, and it didn’t take McPherson long to answer. He’d always been a light sleeper.

“Ranslett . . . Miss Westbrook . . .” An oil lamp in one hand, he rubbed his eyes with the other. “Come on in.” He held the door open. “What’s wrong?”

They stepped inside. Hoping they wouldn’t wake Rachel, Daniel filled him in on what had happened. “ . . . and Turner told Elizabeth that he was going to print the story in the morning, which gives us about six or eight hours, give or take, to find Birch.”

“Sheriff, we’re both assuming Turner
will
include that part about Josiah in his account.” Elizabeth cradled her right hand close to her waist. “I fear what might happen if we don’t find him first.”

“You can count on Turner printing it, Miss Westbrook. And I fear the same.” McPherson sighed. “Sometimes I wonder whether or not the good of having a town paper outweighs the bad.”

Daniel waited, half expecting her to mention something about her father being a senator, since Turner was sure to print that too. But she didn’t.

“I’ll go change, Ranslett. Then we’ll head out. Miss Westbrook, you can have my bed and get some rest.”

She glanced from one to the other. “But I thought I might go along.” She turned to Daniel. “To help you look.”

Daniel gently squeezed her shoulder. “McPherson and I can move faster and cover more ground if you stay here. You’ve been through enough already today. And remember what Dr. Brookston—”

“James, who is it?” A light shone in the darkness behind McPherson, then the hushed patter of steps. “Is everything all right?”

Daniel resisted the urge to move into the shadows. This moment was inevitable, but it still felt too soon. Soft footfalls came closer, and McPherson threw him a look that said he understood but didn’t know what to do.

“It’s okay, sis.”

“James, who’s calling at this—” Rachel appeared beside her brother, a candle’s glow illuminating her face.

Rachel had always been a beauty, even as a child, and the years had done nothing to alter that fact. Daniel remembered how he and McPherson had enjoyed intimidating every lovelorn boy in Williamson County who had set his cap for the hand of pretty Rachel McPherson. Daniel never had sisters of his own, so over time, Rachel had become like his. And for years, things had stayed that way between them—until last fall.

“Daniel . . .” His name left her like a pained sigh, and a frown eclipsed the question in her expression. Her face had thinned in recent months. The smile lines around her eyes and mouth seemed more pronounced.

Her gaze didn’t stay locked on his for more than an instant before she looked away, and Daniel was grateful. Looking at her only reminded him that Thomas wasn’t here anymore, and that she blamed him for that.

Daniel swallowed to remove the knot in his throat. “Rachel . . .” He caught himself before asking how she was. Any simpleton could see she still wore her grief. Even Beau seemed to sense the discomfort and remained quiet at his side.

Rachel’s attention shifted to Elizabeth, and she laid a hand on her older brother’s arm. Daniel knew what she was silently asking, and so did McPherson. Ever the Southern belle, Rachel was a stickler for doing things the proper way, and always had been, even if she was in her nightclothes.

McPherson nodded. “Rachel, I’d like to introduce Miss Elizabeth Westbrook from Washington, D.C. Miss Westbrook, may I present my sister, Mrs. Thomas Boyd of Timber Ridge, by way of Franklin, Tennessee.”

Rachel offered a slight curtsey. “Pleasure to
formally
meet you, Miss Westbrook. And, please, call me Rachel.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well.” Elizabeth smoothed a hand over her skirt, and Daniel sensed self-consciousness in the act. “And I’d prefer Elizabeth, if . . . you don’t mind.”

Rachel smiled. “Elizabeth it is, then. I’m so sorry for all you’ve endured today. James told me what happened. You must be completely exhausted.”

“I am rather tired. I think it’s catching up with me.” Elizabeth’s gaze flitted to Rachel, then back to him, and confusion lined her expression.

“I’ll fix you some warm milk and move my things to the boys’ room. You can have my bed.”

“Let her sleep in my bed, Rachel. I’ve got some business to tend to anyway. Daniel and I are about to head out.”

A shadow darkened her face.

“Don’t worry. . . .” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s not dangerous, but I may be gone for a while.”

Daniel attempted to form a smile when Rachel looked at him. But before he could accomplish the feat, she turned away, twisting the invisible knife in his gut.

He gave Elizabeth a last look. “Get some rest, Elizabeth. I’ll ride back with news as soon as we find him.” He whistled for Beau to follow and walked to the barn to saddle McPherson’s horse.

Fifteen minutes later, the plod of their mounts’ hooves trumped the night’s quiet.

“So when did we move to a first-name basis with Miss Westbrook?”

Daniel smiled at the question. “I think it was somewhere after I cut off her corset and before she nearly clawed me to death in the hot springs.”

McPherson laughed. “She’s a handful, that woman. And mighty pretty.”

Daniel let the comment lie.

“Sometimes not saying anything speaks louder than if you did, Daniel.”

“And sometimes, James . . .” He remembered a saying from their childhood. “It’s best for a man to be thought a fool instead of opening his mouth and removing all doubt.”

James laughed again, and they rode on for a few paces, side by side. Daniel had missed this friendship.

“Her father’s a senator.”

James whistled low. “She sure didn’t advertise that fact, now, did she? She’s hiding something else, you know.”

“Mm-hmm, I do.” Daniel wasn’t surprised that James already suspected something. The man could wheedle secrets from a wishing well.

“I don’t think it’s anything bad, mind you. More like she’s running from something. I think she’ll tell us, given time.”

“I’d normally say you’re right. You can be persuasive, but she’s about as obstinate a creature as I’ve ever met. I agree, though, there’s something she’s not being honest about. And she’s not a very good liar, to her credit.”

“Remind me again, where were you when Turner was in the hallway asking her all those questions and telling her about Josiah Birch?”

Sensing James intended to poke fun at him, Daniel decided to beat him to it. “I already told you. I was with Beau, hiding behind her chifforobe.”

They paused on the ridge overlooking town. In the daylight, every road leading to and from Timber Ridge could be seen from this vantage. Now, however, the town below lay blanketed in darkness, the only light an occasional flicker from the distant coal-burning lamps lining the main thoroughfares.

A wolf ’s howl rose in the darkness, lonely, haunting, reminiscent of another time. Hearing it, Daniel felt a peculiar corkscrew sensation working its way up his backbone. For reasons he couldn’t explain, even if pressed, he kept his voice hushed. “Sometimes, late at night, when everything’s still and you’re almost asleep . . . do you still hear it?”

The breeze of a winter overstaying its welcome whistled down from the north, weaving an unseen path through tree limbs and into the opening of Daniel’s jacket. He pulled it closed.

“No matter the number of my days on this earth, Danny . . . I’ll never erase that sound from my memory. Never . . .”

Daniel let out his breath, comforted by the response and by James’s use of his childhood name. For years, he’d wondered if he’d left behind his last shred of sanity on the battlefield that night in Franklin.

James’s horse whinnied, and he reached down to stroke her neck. “Rachel still loves you, Danny. Just like she did when we were kids. Thomas was a farmer and a rancher and a good man. But he wasn’t a hunter. He wasn’t ready to go out alone like that yet. Deep down, Rachel knows it. She just misses him—that’s all. Give her time.”

Daniel fixed his gaze on some distant peak. “I miss him too. And Rachel and the boys . . .” Unable to deal with the tangle of emotions inside him, he intentionally turned his thoughts to Josiah Birch. “Where to now?”

“That depends . . .” James paused. “Give me your best guess as to where you think he might be.”

Daniel weighed the possibilities. “Normally I’d say the shanties. But with Coulter showing up dead and knowing that Josiah had a run-in with the man not long ago, I don’t think Birch would do as was his custom right now. I think he’d stay clear of town.” He leaned forward in the saddle. “As I’ve headed back home around dusk recently, I’ve seen three fires burning. One’s coming from south of town by Salter’s Mines, another one’s over by Crater Lake, and the third is by the springs near the Fraziers’ place.” “I’ve watched him from my office window in town, coming and going. He never follows a pattern that I’ve noticed. Which doesn’t make him guilty, just careful. And smart.”

Daniel reached into his saddlebags for his gloves and tugged them on. The cold was moving in. “My best guess would be Fraziers’. Less populated, no main roads, and some deserted mining caves are nearby. They’d make good shelter. But Crater Lake is closer to town.”

“Let’s try Fraziers’ first.” James prodded his horse. They skirted Timber Ridge by way of a cliff and picked their way through the darkness, aided by a waning half moon.

A clearing loomed ahead. Arriving at the edge, they dismounted and tethered the horses. After searching the area, they found remnants of campfires and droppings from a horse or mule, but no Birch. They rode on down the ridge and across to Crater Lake. After combing the shores of the lake and the outlying areas with no success, they moved on to Salter’s Mines. But found nothing.

The sun shone pink in the eastern horizon, but Daniel couldn’t go back and tell Elizabeth they hadn’t found him. So they pushed on, searching every nook and cranny they could find. When dawn lit the eastern horizon, they rode down the mountain and into town. McPherson stopped by his office to see if anything had been reported to the deputy.

Weary from the saddle and the search, Daniel dismounted, eager to stretch his legs. He walked the brief distance around behind the building to the small stream, and kneeling down for a drink, he saw him. Naked and bleeding, on the opposite side of the streambed.

27

T
ired of waiting, Elizabeth headed to the barn to saddle up Rachel’s horse. Halfway there, she heard the frantic pounding of hooves coming up the path. Daniel rounded the corner on his mare, sending bits of gravel flying. He reined in sharply, and she ran to meet him.

Weariness weighed his features, but the urgency in his eyes gave her hope.

“You found him?”

He dismounted. “You need to get your things, Elizabeth. And come with me.”

She looked past him. “But where’s Josiah? Didn’t you find him?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. Something flashed in his eyes, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was angry with her.

“We did find him, just a while ago, in town behind a building.”

Instinct sent her back a step, and she pushed away the image forming in her mind. “Is he all right?”

“He’s been beaten pretty bad.” Daniel grimaced. “We took him to the doc’s, and Brookston was working on him when I left. Said he needed to stitch him up.”

She shuddered, remembering her own procedure. Tears rose to her eyes.

“Josiah’s asking for you. And th—” His jaw went rigid. “There’s something else.” He pulled a piece of paper from inside his coat pocket and held it, tight. She recognized the typeface. The newspaper crinkled in his grip. “Turner’s ‘special edition’ came out this morning.”

Anger rose inside her, imagining what falsehood Turner might have written about Josiah, and what it had spawned. “They’re lies, Daniel. All lies. Josiah couldn’t have done what Turner said he did last night. Josiah’s a good man. And good men don’t—”

“Good men make mistakes, Elizabeth. They do things they regret.” Daniel exhaled and looked away, shaking his head. When he looked back, his eyes were moist. “Whatever Josiah’s done or hasn’t done, don’t add the weight of your disappointment to his burden. He’s carrying enough on his own right now.”

Her throat tightened as the impact of his words hit her square in the heart. She clenched her jaw, and a single tear slipped slowly down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth. The salt from it was bitter on her tongue, as was the reminder of her father’s disappointment in her.

Daniel held out the newspaper. “You need to look at it.”

Something inside told her she didn’t want to. “I’ll go get my things.”

He took hold of her arm as she tried to pass. His grip was gentle but unrelenting. “Read it, Elizabeth.”

Something in his voice made her lift her chin, and his pained expression made her wish she hadn’t. She took the paper and opened to the front page. Reading the banner across the top, she sucked in a breath.

WASHINGTON CHRONICLE REPORTER
VISITS TIMBER RIDGE

Then just below that, in slightly smaller type—

MURDER SUSPECT SOUGHT IN SOUTHERN SLAYING

She reached out for something to hold on to, and Daniel was there. He held her steady, close beside her, yet felt so distant. Her hands shook as she struggled to focus on the page.

Elizabeth Westbrook . . . employee of the
Washington Daily Chronicle
and daughter of a United States senator . . . photographer for specious eastern publication comes west seeking adventure . . . armed with her camera and enough determination to conquer anything that stands in her path . . . working in conjunction with a land developer to . . .