The Devil You Know (34 page)

She stiffened. “I wondered when I would hear that.”

“Then you've known all along it had to be said.”

“I'm not opposed to trying to get Easterbrook here, but in consideration of Annalea's presence, I want to think about tracking him down.”

“You heard your father's description of the man. Even with Zach and Cutter adding to it, the man could be almost anybody. Hell, Willa, they never saw the color of his hair. Maybe he was bald under his hat.”

“We could backtrack, go to Stonechurch. Someone might remember him there because he was asking after you.”

“That was all a lie, Willa. He was never there because Buck McKay was never there. Even without my full memory, I'm sure of that. What I know about Stonechurch is limited to the fact that Quill was there settling some business a while back, and there is nothing connecting me to Quill at that time. Easterbrook pulled the name of that town out of thin air.”

“Or maybe you mentioned it to him when you were liquored up or drugged or simply exchanging pleasantries with a fellow passenger.”

“Exchanging pleasantries,” he repeated, amused.

“Why not? It's a long trip from Chicago to Saint Louis to Denver, and you don't have to try hard to engage people. It comes naturally to you. Is it so hard to imagine that you talked to a lot of folks on that trip?”

“Maybe I did. I'll give you that it seems more like me than getting drunk. There was not much chance for conversation in prison or jail, and not much that I wanted to say when I had visitors, so I probably was ready to exchange—”

Willa interrupted him when she suddenly pushed herself upright. “That's it, Israel. That's the question we should have been asking from the very beginning.”

“I wasn't aware I asked a—” He stopped again, this time because she was vehemently shaking her head.

Willa laid a hand on his arm, partly to keep him from speaking, and partly to steady her excitement. “I sent Cutter into Jupiter the day after we found you, and I told him to ask after folks who got off the train when we thought you did. He inquired at the hotel and the boardinghouse and the saloon and got virtually nothing for his effort. It was the
same when he spoke to Sheriff Brandywine. But the very first person Cutter went to was his mother, and when he asked her if she knew about anyone arriving from Denver, she mentioned the Cuttlewhites.”

Israel nodded. “I remember. He spoke to them. They didn't know who got off the train.”

“That's right, but Cutter should have asked them who they might have passed time with on the train. He could have asked them if they had a recollection of who boarded the train with them in Denver. Do you see? You could have spoken to them. They might recall you getting on even if they don't recall you getting off. They could have seen you with Easterbrook. We need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Cuttlewhite, Israel. That's what we need to do.”

“That's a lot of could haves and might haves.”

“I know, but—”

Israel caught her chin, held it while he kissed her lightly on the mouth.

“All right,” he said. “But can we sleep first? I'm sure the Cuttlewhites will appreciate my reluctance to leave this bed right now.”

He caught her elbow before she poked him in the ribs and drew her down when he lay back.

“Why don't we see if you do?”

The space beside Willa was empty when she woke. She sat up, bleary-eyed, and stretched her arms wide then high. It was on the point of remembering her conversation with Israel about paying a visit to the Cuttlewhites that she truly awakened. She threw back the covers, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and then danced on the cold floor until she put her feet into thick socks and found her robe.

She parted the window curtains to gauge the sunrise and realized by the sun's height and the clear white of dawn on the horizon, she had stayed abed longer than had been her intention. A little more distressing was the additional six inches of powder that had fallen overnight and the four-foot-high drifts that had been swept against the barn, the bunkhouse, and her windowsill. She did not remember hearing the wind beating against the roof, but then again, after Israel had finished appreciating her, she had slept like the dead.

Thinking about it now brought a wickedly satisfied smile to her lips and more than mere warmth to her cheeks. She saw proof of both when she sat at the vanity and regarded her reflection in the mirror. She was vaguely embarrassed by the pleasure she felt seeing herself as Israel must have seen her. Her eyelids were still heavy with sleep and only dark half-moons of her eyes were visible under her lashes. She touched her lips and found them tender, but still sweetly sensitive to the brush of her fingertips. Turning her head to the side, she was able to see a bruise on the curve of her neck. She remembered that he had suckled her there, sipped her skin until she whimpered and beat lightly at his shoulder
with the heel of her hand. This was what had come of that, his brand, the sign he left to mark his territory.

She was not troubled by it because she imagined he could still feel where her nails had pressed crescents into his back and where her teeth had nibbled on his shoulder. Her marks might not be painted on his flesh the way his were on her, but she had to believe they were etched in his mind. It would take more than a blow to his head to make him forget last night.

Willa blinked when she realized that not only had she spoken that thought out loud, but that she was also mooning at her reflection.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Annalea, pushing open the door. She looked around. “Oh, it's just you. Well, I don't want any part of that conversation.” She sat at the foot of the bed and then threw herself backward on it. “Pa says there's fried eggs and bacon in the warmer if you have a taste for that this morning. Don't see how you couldn't have known since the whole house smells like cooked pig.”

As she had been otherwise occupied with thoughts of a carnal nature, Willa was only now able to receive the most excellent aroma of bacon. “Hmm. That must be what woke me,” she said.

“Pa said your stomach would get you up. Israel wasn't so sure. He told us you didn't stir at all this morning, even when he gave you a shake.”

Willa wondered if he really had tried to wake her. He could hardly tell Happy and Annalea that his appreciation had exhausted her. “Braid my hair, will you?”

Groaning as if this were an imposition rather than a task she genuinely enjoyed, Annalea heaved herself off the bed and went to stand behind Willa. “Two or one?”

“Just one, please.”

Annalea picked up the brush and began pulling it through Willa's hair. “I've been thinking about Mr. Easterbrook. Seems funny how he showed up here, out of the blue and all. Even if Israel did something to provoke the man, that would have been a while back. What kind of man holds a grudge that long? That's what I asked myself.”

“Well, the Pancakes and the Barbers have had a grudge against each other for a lot of years.”

“Mm-hmm. It sorta got passed down, didn't it? Like your ring or Granny's rocker.”

“Yes. Like that, I suppose.”

Annalea returned the brush to Willa and then neatly separated her hair into three ropes of equal thickness. “So, I had Easterbrook's grudge on my mind and then my thoughts kinda slid sideways, you know, like they do when I'm doing one thing and my attention is stolen clean away by something else.”

“I'm not sure that's precisely how that happens, but go on. Clearly you had a lot on your mind.”

“I did, and I was doing some considerably hard thinking with it. That's how I got distracted by Mr. Eli Barber. See? I started considering his grudge, the long-standing nature of it, just like you said, and that's when I remembered something that no one talked about when we were sitting around the table last night.”

“And what's that?” Willa asked, watching Annalea in the mirror. Her daughter didn't notice; all of her attention was focused on managing the braid and trying to talk at the same time. That made Willa smile. Annalea could not sing while she was playing the piano either. “What did you remember?”

Annalea plucked the red ribbon Willa held up for her and quickly tied off the braid. She admired it before letting it fall down the center of Willa's back. “I remembered the horse. No one said a word about it.”

“You're right.” Willa's stomach rumbled, and she knew it was the call of the fried eggs and bacon. She did not think she could indulge Annalea's flights of fancy much longer. She would have to bolt for the kitchen. “What about the horse?”

“It reminded me of Galahad. He was about the same size and just as black. It was dark, I know, but Zach and Cutter each had the lantern at different times, and I'm set on the fact that he was as black as Gal.”

“All right. That could be helpful, knowing Easterbrook
was riding a black horse, probably a gelding and not a mare if he was as big as Galahad. Did you mention this to anyone else this morning?”

“No. I was conjugating while they were talking. I didn't have it quite clear then.”

“I think you mean you were cogitating.”

“Probably was doing that, too.”

“Then I think we should let them know when they're around again.” She started to rise, but Annalea dropped a firm hand on her shoulder that meant for her stay where she was. Willa's eyebrows lifted because nothing else could. “What is it?”

“The most important thing of all,” Annalea said. “Mr. Easterbrook was riding a branded horse. I saw it clearly in the lantern light, and just as I know the horse was as black as Gal, I also know he had the Big Bar brand on his left shoulder. Everyone else was looking at Mr. Easterbrook, but I must have been looking at him and his horse. Hardly knew it myself until I got to conjuring it.”

Willa hoped to heaven that her daughter had
not
conjured it, so she let that pass. “Big Bar? You're sure, Annalea?”

“Mm-hmm.” She drew it the air with her fingertip. “Long bar beside an uppercase B. Everyone's shown it to me now and again, even you, and I've seen it on Big Bar cattle that get through a fence and into our herd. John Henry and me chased a few strays back in our time.”

In other circumstances, Willa might have been able to muster a smile, but not now. Not when it concerned the Barbers. “You've never crossed the fence line, have you? Never gone onto Big Bar land?”

“No. Never. I wouldn't. Pa said the trolls would get me.”

“Ah. The trolls. I'd forgotten. Did you ever believe him?”

“No, well, not for a long time, but I figured it'd be bad if I trespassed, so I never did. Not once.”

“Good girl.” Willa patted the hand Annalea still rested on her shoulder. “Let's go in the kitchen. I promise you, I'll eat quickly, and then we'll go find someone to tell. Hell, Annalea, we'll find everyone.”

*   *   *

It was a slog through the new powder and drifts, some of them as high as Annalea's shoulder. Willa kept her close. Someone had already run rope lines from the house to the outbuildings in the event of a sudden squall. They'd all heard stories of people frozen twenty yards from shelter because they'd lost their bearings in a blizzard.

Annalea observed that anyone looking down on the ranch must see something that resembled a spider's web with all the buildings being tethered to it like so many flies. Willa couldn't disagree, and it was another reminder that Annalea saw things from a perspective that others missed.

Willa and Annalea crossed everyone's path except Israel's. When they inquired as to his whereabouts, Happy, Cutter, and Zach all had a different idea about where he'd gone. Not one of them believed he had left the valley, but that hardly reduced the area she would have to cover to find him. The only thing they agreed on was that he was strapped and carrying extra ammunition in his pockets. That certainly suggested that he had gone somewhere for target practice.

Willa decided that she would saddle Felicity and head out, while Annalea shared her very interesting observation with everyone.

*   *   *

Jesse Snow stepped outside the bunkhouse when he saw Eli trudging toward it. Today was not the day they had talked about riding into Jupiter. That was supposed to be tomorrow, but Jesse had a feeling that last night's squall had contributed to Eli changing his mind. The heir to Big Bar was just too damn impatient to follow his own plan. Eli was afraid that another storm would block the road and they wouldn't get to Jupiter inside of a week.

Jesse yanked up the collar of his coat and tucked his chin. He slapped his hands against his arms to keep warm while he waited for Eli and used his body to bar the way when Eli would have made straight for the door.

“Gotta talk here,” said Jesse. “There are a couple of
fellows in the bunkhouse. Hammond and Keller. If you're looking for me, then we need to talk here.”

“I'm looking for you. Where's Buster?”

“In the smokehouse with Adam Rockwell. What is it?” Just as if he didn't know.

“I want to go to Jupiter.”

“Your father all right with that?” Jesse was not surprised that Eli took offense to the question. “Sorry, but I'm not crossing Malcolm.”

“It was his idea. He's been waiting for some contracts. Weather's got him aching, so I'm going to ride in and see if they're there. Just that easy.”

“And did you clear it for me to go? I know you ain't asked Buster yet, and he's also got to say it's all right with him.”

“Buster won't raise an eyebrow. My father already approved it. There's nothing much for you to do around here anyway. The way I figure it, it's up to the cows to take care of themselves when it gets like this.” He jerked his head toward the barn. “C'mon. Let's go.”

Jesse sighed heavily and his breath made the cold air visible. “Let me get my hat and gloves. I'll be right behind you.”

*   *   *

Quill McKenna put an arm around his wife's shoulders as they stared at the vast network of tracks on the map in the Denver rail station. East of the Mississippi the railroads were an intricate web, fanning out from business hubs on the Great Lakes like Toledo, Detroit, and Chicago, and on the Mississippi like Saint Louis and New Orleans. Farther west, the network dwindled to single tracks on a lonely journey across the Great Plains, the Rocky Mountains, and the Great Basin to the Pacific coast.

“If I stare at it too long,” said Calico, “I start seeing double of everything. Have you ever been through Des Moines?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know you don't want to go through it twice.”

“Friendly people,” he said. He put up a hand, staving off her attempt to contradict. Des Moines was not worth a dispute. “Just concentrate on Denver. We know Israel made it this far.”

“If you hadn't thought to ask about a rolling poker game, I don't think the rail men we talked to would have remembered him. Until that game got underway, no one looked twice at your brother. From Chicago to Saint Louis, I get the sense he was about as noticeable as a penny in a change purse.”

“True.” Quill used his finger to trace tracks running from Denver to points west and south on the map. “I can't decide if I want to congratulate him for making it as far as Saint Louis without taking up a game, or if I should plant my fist in his face for not avoiding cards the entire journey.” He shook his head, feeling frustration beginning to get the better of him. “Look at us standing here, better than a hundred miles from where we belong, trying to decide which one of these damn arteries he might have taken out of Denver.”

Calico leaned into her husband as she followed the finger tracings he made. She said practically, “Well, we know he didn't arrive in Temptation, and we've made inquiries as we traveled from there to here, so I think we can safely eliminate that line.”

“I'm going to pretend that's helpful,” said Quill, “and there aren't seven other routes he could have taken. If he won at the table, and I told you that he usually does, then he might not have boarded another train immediately. He could have very well taken his winnings and found a fancy hotel and a fancy woman and stayed in the city until his luck or his money ran out.”

Calico nodded reluctantly. “I was thinking along the same lines, but here is my suggestion for what to do about it. We are going to find a fancy hotel and get a room for a couple of nights while we ask around after your brother. We should be able to learn enough to set us on the right track—literally—especially now that we know Israel took up the name ‘Buck McKay' again.” She stepped away from Quill and searched his face. “That bothers you, doesn't it?”

He tried to shrug it off but Calico's sharpening green eyes told him he was unsuccessful. “Let's just say it makes me less hopeful for him.”

“I understand. Maybe you'll feel differently after we find you a fancy woman.”