Chapter 21
“Here now, what’s all this?” The sheriff, sitting with his bootheels resting on his desk, shot to his feet.
Owen dragged two prisoners with him. Morgan came behind with one, while Colonel Bridger had the other.
“I’m a U.S. Marshal, Sheriff, transporting prisoners to Fort Russell. I need a place for them to stay the night.”
The sheriff looked annoyed. Owen thought the man might have gotten used to sitting at the desk and preferred no disruptions to his usual routine.
Colonel Bridger handed his prisoner off to Boone and then reached out a hand to the sheriff. “Lieutenant Isaac, you’re sheriffin’ in Fort Collins now?”
“Yep. When they closed the fort, I mustered out and stayed here. You’re involved with all this, Grizzly?”
Owen had to give that nickname some thought. It didn’t make the man sound all that friendly.
“Yep, one of ’em”—he pointed at Clive—“is an escaped murderer. The rest busted him out of the stockade at the fort. That was before I got assigned there. They rounded him up in Denver after he’d been running free for a year or so, and while transporting him back for a hanging—”
“I did not murder anyone. It was self-defense,” Clive insisted, shouting the same thing as always.
“The rest of his family,” Bridger went on, “tried to break him free again and managed to kill a U.S. Marshal, and they wounded my son who was riding to Fort Russell with the Marshals. The man among them who did the shooting, they claim he’s dead.
But the rest were with him, and that’s its own crime. ”
“Leland wasn’t supposed to shoot anyone. We didn’t expect that. Yes, we were going to stop the Marshals and help my son escape, but no one was supposed to open fire.” Sly had a love for the sound of his own voice.
Colonel Bridger had managed to sum the whole mess up fast and gain the sheriff’s cooperation.
Owen decided to give the sheriff a break, too. “I’ll see they get a meal and get someone from the nearest diner to bring it over to them.”
The sheriff nodded and led the way into the back room. There were four cells. Fort Collins was an up-and-coming town indeed.
“One apiece. You can each have your own room.” The sheriff plucked the keys off a nail and led the prisoners down the row to the farthest one. He unlocked the first cell and shoved Clive inside.
It took only moments before they were all locked up.
Gordon said again that he wished Stella were there with them.
For a man who had a rule against worrying, Owen let his thoughts swing toward Tex often enough. How in the world would he find his friend, or find his body, in the vast wilderness of the Rockies? Maybe it was grief he was feeling rather than worry. Because he feared the worst.
Owen said to his group, “Let’s have a meal sent over here, eat ourselves, get some sleep, then hightail it to Fort Russell. We need to ride back out there and find Tex.”
He didn’t mention Stella’s name. He was annoyed with himself because of his reticence.
He wanted to judge her harshly. He couldn’t think of the Duncans and not think of Stan, Tex’s Deputy Marshal.
A good man was dead, and he shouldn’t let a soft heart toward women sway him.
Well, if she was still alive to find, Owen planned to see her locked up with her family.
Or at least have a judge decide what should happen to her . . . to all of them.
“I appreciate you handling the food, Marshal. There’s a diner across the street that’ll send over fried chicken that’s good enough for the prisoners. But go on down to the Mason Hotel to get yourselves a better meal and rooms for the night unless you’re planning on camping out.”
Owen looked around at the weary faces, then smiled. A feather bed would be mighty welcome after so long on the trail.
Colonel Bridger nodded, and everyone else agreed.
“Ask them at the diner to run over to my deputy’s room and tell him to come here and spend the night. I should have some backup with this many prisoners locked up.”
“They do seem to have a talent for escaping, but all those who helped with the escape are locked up with them. I’ll send word to the deputy.”
Owen led the way out of the jailhouse. Everyone headed for the hotel while he jogged across the street to ask them to deliver meals to the jailhouse.
He threw in an extra few meals for the sheriff and his deputy and then wondered if he was being wise, considering the sheriff’s opinion about the food there.
He was soon settled in a chair at the restaurant in the Mason Hotel and felt the ache in his bones from so long on a hard trail. No doubt about it, he was getting soft.
Which led him to the notion that had been gnawing at him for quite a while.
“I don’t think I’m going to ask to be reappointed to the Marshals Service.
” He looked at Morgan, who grunted. “I might not even get the job,” he went on.
“The man who appointed me before has since moved on. The new man in the office may have his own ideas.”
“Can women be Marshals?” Delaney asked.
She might as well have tossed a cannonball onto the table.
“No. Women cannot be—” Owen began, but then was shouted down by Delaney’s pa.
“It’s no proper job for a decent woman—” Delaney’s pa was drowned out by Delaney’s ma.
“You’re tough enough to do the job and you know it, but no daughter of mine is going to—” Her ma’s words were lost when Boone started laughing.
The laughter, more than anything else, made Delaney narrow her eyes.
Owen kicked the lunkhead under the table. Boone glanced at Delaney and tried to cut off the laughter, but it wasn’t easily done.
In a tiny break in the uproar, Roz announced, “I could do the job, too. I’m going to apply.”
Morgan, grinning as he took a drink of coffee, spit it across the table into Owen’s face. “Are you out of your mind?”
Owen glared at his friend, who was glaring at Roz. Morg didn’t even notice Owen’s soggy state.
Dragging his kerchief off his neck, Owen dried his face. At least the face full of coffee made him quit his grumbling. Everyone else was doing well enough without him. Morgan was involved now. He’d thought it was funny when Delaney said it.
But Roz? That he didn’t like.
Owen listened to the racket, glad they’d gotten in late and the hotel dining room was empty. And glad they’d already rented a bunch of rooms. Otherwise, the hotel owner would’ve likely tossed them all out.
As the ruckus finally settled down, Delaney was left with a satisfied look on her face. Owen couldn’t figure out if she was happy with her notion of becoming a Marshal or just liked to stir up a fuss with her family. Maybe it was her job as the youngest to be a pest.
Changing the subject, Owen said, “You know, when Boone got shot, we were all scared for him and . . .” His throat grew tight then, which made talking near to impossible.
“You’re lucky to be alive, son,” Hester said, rescuing Owen.
Boone nodded. “I don’t remember much, but I woke up with a mighty sore head.”
“I thought he was dead,” Delaney whispered.
Owen could see she too was fighting tears and wished now that he’d never brought it up.
She gestured toward Marley, who looked full of food and ready for bed.
“We were afraid Marley was going to lose his leg, but thankfully the bullet didn’t break the bone.
It was bad enough, though. Boone was lying there in a pool of blood, Tex had been shot in the arm, and Deputy Ross was dead.
They shot Clive too, a gutshot. The bullet missed anything serious, but we figured he might die, too. But he was just too ornery.”
“That pack of polecats is claiming one of them shot four people?”
Owen shrugged. “Doesn’t ring true, does it?
Leland Duncan. That’s Clive’s brother, and a hothead according to the Duncan family.
Morg and Tex kept watch over them at night, and we’d left very little to track, so they were coming slow.
It gave us time to bury Stan and patch the rest of them up enough to ride.
Once we were ready, Morg and Tex went back to them, captured two of ’em standing watch, and stole all the horses, setting them afoot. ”
They talked together for another few minutes, and then Marley said, “Well, I’m turning in.”
Morgan pushed back his chair. “I’m all in as well. If you Bridgers have a hankering to catch up, you don’t need me. Roz, if you’re ready to call it a night, I can walk you and Jesse up to the room we got you. Owen, you coming?”
Owen looked around at a family he had nothing but respect for. “I might stay here a little longer and listen to the Bridgers spin a few yarns, if you folks don’t mind.”
“Marley and I are in the room right at the top of the stairs,” Morgan said. “You’re in the room next to ours, Owen. It seems right we stand guard, but we’ve got a tough crowd here. They can handle any robbers we may get.”
The Bridger family nodded.
Colonel Bridger said, “We appreciate your care of our family, Marshal Sawyer, Marshal Tweedt. Thank you.”
Morgan gave a firm nod of his head and headed out with Marley. Roz and Jesse trailed behind them.
Owen spent an interesting hour listening to tales of the travel west with Delaney and Boone, and life at the fort with the colonel and his missus. And he did his best not to let his eyes settle on Delaney for too long.
Good chance she wasn’t going to get to be a Marshal.
He wondered what she would end up doing with her life.
Living at the fort with her ma and pa sounded a little tame for the woman he’d come to know and admire.
No doubt the men would come flocking to her.
That made him grind his teeth together. He realized he’d been looking at her for too long and shifted to stare at his rough, callused hands.
What was he going to do with his life?
What was he fit for? Ranching maybe? Tex was a top cowhand. Owen wasn’t as good, but he could hold his own. But being a cowhand was a long way from being a rancher. It took money to set up ranching and probably more smarts than he had.
He could drive a stagecoach or ride shotgun on one.
He could be a lawman, but a local sheriff instead of a Marshal. He found himself wanting to stop wandering, to put down some roots.
But he’d wait to take root until after he found Tex.
A slap on the shoulder that was a little too hard to be exactly friendly drew him out of his thoughts. That was when he realized he’d quit looking at his hands and was looking at Delaney again.
Boone, sitting next to him, had disrupted his daydreaming.
“Sorry,” Owen said, “I was thinking.” No one else at the table seemed to have noticed.
They were busy sharing tales of their eldest brother, Bowie.
Then he had a second to wonder if they had in fact noticed him staring at Delaney.
The Bridgers were a noticing kind of family, but they either hadn’t noticed or were pretending they hadn’t. Owen preferred it if they hadn’t.
“Yep, I saw that you were.” Boone patted his shoulder again, this time with less force. “Maybe it’s time we all went up to bed. I’m about asleep in my chair.”
Chair legs scraped as they all got to their feet. Owen thought it was his duty to bring up the rear.
Mrs. Bridger had plans to sleep in a room with Delaney, Roz, and Jesse. Colonel Bridger was next door in his own room. Everyone claimed he snored like a hibernating bear. Boone had the room on past his pa.
That left Owen alone. He could have slept on the floor in Morgan and Marley’s room, but they’d rented every room on the second floor, and Owen wanted it like that. No one to move in next to them. Not that there should be any danger, but a man got used to being cautious.
And the thought of a bed was too tempting to deny himself. It struck him again that he was getting soft.
He was the last one upstairs and the last one to reach for a doorknob.
A heavy hand settled on his shoulder. He looked sideways to see Colonel Grizzly Bridger, gripping his shoulder.
Beyond him he saw Boone right before he stepped into his room.
He gave Owen a quick glance and looked to have something like sympathy in his eyes.
The colonel nodded toward the stairway. Owen’s stomach twisted in a way it hadn’t since he was about eight years old. He followed Grizzly back down the stairs.