Wildfire Creek (16 page)

The thought of returning home had his mind shift directions to a conversation he had the day before he’d left.

Gabe confided in him that an investor from Big Pine had purchased the vacant lot between the clinic and land office with plans to build a saloon in competition with the Wild Rose. When Luke questioned Gabe, the sheriff said the local banker who’d made the loan, Horace Clausen, wasn’t allowed to divulge the owner’s name until the saloon opened. The owner had plans to hire a number of men to build the saloon, with orders it must open prior to Thanksgiving. Luke found himself wondering how a second saloon would impact the Rose and Ginny. She relied on the income, and a loss of business might put pressure on Amos to make changes.

Nearing sundown on the third day, Tom spotted a small group of what he guessed were Sioux riding along a bluff. They had been attacking soldiers and settlers near Fort Karney in Wyoming, stealing horses and killing as many whites as they could. Luke and Tom had hoped to slip through the area unseen.

“We’d better keep moving.” Tom picked up the pace and continued southeast.

They rode long into the night, not stopping, putting as much distance as possible between them and the raiding party. The freezing wind whipped around them, penetrating their clothing, hindering their progress until they were forced to stop just before dawn and take refuge within a thick stand of trees.

By midmorning they were ready to ride again and headed south toward Denver. In three or four days they’d reach their destination.

“What do you think, Al?” Ginny asked as she watched the men working sixteen hours each day, except Sunday, to complete the building across the street. Amos had pitched a fit when Horace told him the news, but nothing could be done. The town had grown and the new owner felt it could accommodate two saloons—the Rose and his place. It was a belief Amos shared, except he’d hoped to be the one to open the second establishment.

“Don’t know. Amos had been talking with Horace Clausen about purchasing the land. Looks like someone beat him to it.” Al continued to wipe down the counter and glanced about the saloon. The evening card players were trickling in, while other patrons were headed home. Everyone speculated about who owned the place, what it would be called, and how it would be different from the Rose.

“Does anyone know who the owner is?”

Al looked at Ginny and shook his head. “From what I hear, just Clausen, and he’s not talking.”

“I know Rachel and the doc aren’t too happy about it being right next door to the clinic.”

“And with the doc’s house at the back of his property, it’s going to be kind of hard to ignore the noise on a Saturday night. At least
we’ve
never had complaints about it.” Al listened to the pounding of nails and men yelling at each other. They worked across the street and three doors down, yet he could still hear the conversations as if they were right in front of him.

“Maybe because we’re right next to the jail?” Ginny asked, amusement in her voice. It wouldn’t be long before the Rose would be filled with cowboys celebrating the end of another week. The men from Redemption’s Edge should be coming in at any time—they always did on Saturday nights. She wondered if they’d have news of Luke.

As if her thoughts had conjured them up, the doors swung open and Bull walked in, followed by several of the men. She nodded a greeting, watching them take their seats, then walked over to the table.

“Let me guess. Whiskey all around?”

“That’d be great, Ginny.” Ellis pulled out a deck of cards and watched the expression on Johnny’s face turn from amusement to awe in a split second. Following the man’s gaze, Ellis noticed a pretty, young woman walking down the steps in an emerald green dress.

“Will you look at that?” Tat stared along with his friend.

“She must be new.” Bull never paid much attention to the women of the Rose. Although he wasn’t immune to their charms, he’d never had an interest in seeking them out. Looking suited him just fine, but this woman had a different aura about her, drawing all eyes her way.

“Who is she, Ginny?” Johnny asked as she returned with their drinks.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Her name’s Dinah. She arrived on the stage today, walked in here, spoke with Amos, and walked out with a job.”

“Upstairs?” Bull asked.

“Yes.” She watched his expression change from fascination to acceptance. Belle told her he and Luke were impossible to entice upstairs. Belle didn’t understand why, but Ginny thought she knew. Neither seemed to have an interest in announcing their private lives to the town, much the same as Gabe and Noah. If any of those men had ever been upstairs, Ginny sure didn’t know about it.

The night dragged on. Ginny’s mind jumped between two subjects. First, a small house not far from the lumberyard, near Noah’s tack shop. She’d noticed it months before and always wondered if anyone lived in it.

Suzanne told her it had been built by an old widower who’d since passed. No one had ever shown an interest in buying it, so it sat vacant and unattended. She thought it had one small bedroom, a front area, and tiny kitchen. As far as Suzanne knew, the old furniture still sat in the place. She’d offered to go with Ginny to see Horace Clausen at the bank, but Ginny had refused. She’d keep it as a dream, something to focus on for her and Mary—a home of their own.

As quickly as the image of the house slipped from her mind, another image appeared. Luke. She wondered if he’d made it to Denver. No matter her decision to never marry and just make a home for her sister, she enjoyed his company and wanted him as a friend. Pushing the thought of their kiss aside, she accepted he wanted nothing from her except friendship. Ginny could give him that.

She felt warmth envelope her at the thought she’d made so many friends during her few months in Splendor. Luke, however, was special. She’d never had a male friend. When he returned, she’d work at being one he could depend on. She knew she could depend on him, and he would never want anything more from her.

Chapter Eleven

Denver, Colorado

Luke shot straight up, drenched in sweat, blankets twisted around him, his eyes darting around the room. He and Tom had arrived in Denver, taking rooms at a boardinghouse Dutch recommended before grabbing supper, then collapsing in their rooms.

He yanked the covers away and swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. Gripping the side of the bed, he tried to remember what he’d been dreaming of when he’d jolted awake.

Ginny
. He’d been in bed with her in his house on the ranch. They’d been making love, clinging to each other. She’d pulled away and smiled up at him, a guileless expression filled with warmth and love.

His heart hammered in his chest as the dream-induced images played across his mind. Where the hell had they come from? He paced to the dresser and poured water into a glass, finishing it in three big gulps. In all his life he’d never once dreamed of a woman. Never. Why now? And why Ginny?

Luke walked to the window, forced it open, and peered onto the street below, sucking the cool air into his lungs. The sun had begun to rise. At this hour the town seemed eerily quiet, as just a few lone wagons made their way from one end of the long block to the other.

He turned away from the window and speared his fingers through his hair. The image of him and Ginny tangled together danced across his mind, causing slight beads of moisture to form on his brow. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to eradicate the vision.

“Hell,” Luke muttered, grabbing his trousers and shoving his legs into them. He needed to get out of there and into the fresh air, into the openness where he could clear his head. Strapping on his gun belt and grabbing his hat, he walked down the stairs to the dining room, the aromas of coffee and bacon drifting from the kitchen. Strong coffee and food would clear his head and wipe images of Ginny from his mind. It had been just a dream after all, not some forecast of the future.

He took a seat at a table by the window, accepting the coffee set in front of him.

“Bacon, eggs, flapjacks, and lots more coffee.” He didn’t even look at the lady taking his order. Instead, he focused his gaze outside while taking a couple of deep, slow breaths. Luke and Tom would meet with Dutch, firm up what needed to be done, then he’d find a solution to whatever dogged him. He’d been without a woman too long. Perhaps it would be as simple as finding a willing companion for an evening.

“You’re up early.” Dutch pulled out a chair and signaled to the server. “Have you seen Tom this morning?”

“No. I just got downstairs myself.”

“Don’t take offense, but you look about as useful as a man recuperating from a three day drunk. You want to talk about it?” Dutch thanked the lady for the coffee, then focused his attention on Luke.

He’d known Dutch long enough to accept the man could sometimes read his mind, a disquieting ability when all Luke wanted was to rid his thoughts of a certain woman.

“There’s nothing to talk about besides finishing the job you started and getting out of Denver.” Luke’s words were terse, devoid of the usual charm Dutch had come to expect from his friend.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Dutch and Luke glanced up as Tom approached and took a seat. “Have I missed anything?”

“Not a thing.” Dutch shot a look at Luke, not believing for a minute Luke wasn’t troubled by something, but he let it go. “I’ll tell you about it while we eat.”

The reason for Dutch’s request they help him became clear as he explained the assignment. In Luke’s mind, Pinkerton should have sent additional men long before now.

“The rustling had been going on for months before Gus Salter and his son, Elgin, gave up trying to find the culprits on their own and contacted Pinkerton. I spoke to everyone on the ranch, the local sheriff and his deputies, plus anybody else who might have ideas on who is behind the thefts. What I found has not been discussed with Salter or anyone else.” Dutch sipped his coffee, his expression grave as he guessed what Salter’s reaction would be when he explained his conclusions.

“Who do you think is behind the rustling?” Luke asked.

“His foreman, Bob Bray, along with some of Salter’s men. The man’s been with him for over twenty years.”

“Shit,” Luke mumbled. “I hope you have a good amount of proof before approaching the old man.”

“I do, including the testimony of Bray’s lady friend.”

Tom and Luke glanced at Dutch, wondering how much they could rely on her story.

“She’s reliable, if that’s what you’re worried about. Her name’s Nell Deeds, and she works for Salter as his cook and housekeeper. Been there a few years. She and Bray have been seeing each other a while, but Salter knows nothing of it. Seems Bray got careless and began confiding in her.”

“About the rustling?” Luke asked.

Dutch nodded. “It took her some time, but she finally told me what he’d confessed to her.” Dutch signaled to the server for more coffee, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “Messy business.”

“How many men is he using, and how do you want to proceed?” Tom asked.

“I believe it’s a small group. A few men from the ranch and maybe a couple others. They cut out small groups and drive them to a predetermined location. There, the buyer uses his own men to rebrand the same night. They’re not just stealing from Salter. Bray and his men are hitting the neighboring ranchers, just not in the same numbers. It’s been quiet as of late, which makes me think they’re due to hit again soon. I want to ride out today and let Salter know what I’ve found and introduce you two. This is what I have in mind.”