Chapter 8
Jeff losing the trail was only the start of their troubles.
As the days passed, Hunter found that being a deputy working under Robert was very trying.
He spent a lot of time out riding, trying to pick up the trail of the bandit that Jeff was supposed to have followed.
However, day after day, they tried, and day after day, they failed to find the camp.
By the end of the week, they were starting to become quite desperate.
Not to mention that the long hours in the saddle were making Hunter too tired to spend much time with Grace when he got home.
All he could manage in the evenings was some small conversation over dinner, and then he would usually fall asleep with her reading a book in the parlor before she would shoo him off to bed.
It didn’t seem to be harming their relationship.
If anything, she seemed to delight in surprising him with excellent dinners every night.
There was the possibility that with her delicious cooking, he was going to get fat.
Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t constantly at home, what with all the treats she was making constantly.
The house was also starting to change around him, which he didn’t mind at all.
Grace had excellent taste in furnishings, and he was delighted to see what she did around the house to make it more of a home.
She had also started baking loaves of bread and was selling them, which seemed to make her—and her customers! —very happy.
Life was wonderful, except for the constant threat of the bandits.
Hunter was permanently reminded of them every time he went to the station and saw the two who had shot at them sitting pretty in the cells, waiting to be fed and watered and to have their cells cleaned.
Sometimes it felt like he was the one in jail, having to help look after them.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Jeff said as they reached the town on Friday evening. “My backside has never been so sore.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired after achieving so little in my life,” Hunter agreed. “At this point I would swear blind that El Aguila’s camp is on the moon.”
“It’s certainly nowhere near here,” Jeff said. “We’ve looked everywhere. That little rat was no doubt leading me in the wrong direction before doubling back and losing me.”
“What do you think Robert will say?” Hunter asked. Robert had been becoming steadily grumpier as the week went on.
“Something grumpy and bad-tempered about how useless we are,” Jeff said.
Just as they had had no luck finding the camp, the sheriff hadn’t had any luck getting the captured bandits to give him any information about their operation and El Aguila.
They knew no more about their tormentors now than they had before they captured them, and Michael and Andrew were not impressed.
Pulling up outside the sheriff’s office, Jeff and Hunter hesitated before entering, neither keen to find out what had happened—or not happened—while they were out for the day.
Opening the door to the station, Hunter looked around inside. He didn’t spot Robert. Perhaps the sheriff had gone out. That meant they would be able to write up their reports and leave them on his desk. No lecture on how important it was to find the bandit’s camp. Hurrah!
“He’s not here,” Hunter said in a low voice.
“Why are we whispering?” Jeff asked.
“Because we don’t want the prisoners bothering us for things, do we?” Hunter asked.
Jeff shook his head, and they went to sit at the desk they shared on the far side of the room.
“When will they come?” one of the prisoners asked, seeming not to realize anyone had entered the building.
“Later,” his friend said. “You know how it goes. These idiots don’t know what they’re in for. El Jefe will make them pay for everything.”
“You think so? We’ve been here a week already. Why’s he taking so long?”
There was the sound of flesh being slapped and an outraged cry like a child being reprimanded.
“It’s not your place to question El Jefe,” the first prisoner said.
Hunter thought it was Alberto speaking. He was definitely the older and more experienced of the two. The other one was Miguel.
Jeff raised his brows. Both he and Hunter were silent, listening to the prisoners. When they knew that the lawmen were there, they were mostly silent. Clearly they didn’t realize that Hunter and Jeff were close by and eavesdropping.
“El Jefe will send men for us,” Alberto said, his voice ringing with certainty. “You’ll see, and then you’ll feel like the worm you are for doubting him. You know that El Jefe looks after his own.”
“Sure, but we failed him, Berto,” Miguel said. “He’s going to be very angry.”
“There are some things more important than merely succeeding in a mission,” Alberto said. “El Jefe will come get us. You’ll see.”
“Like what?” Miguel asked, sounding worried. “What makes you so sure?”
Alberto didn’t reply, and Miguel didn’t ask again.
So, they believed that El Aguila would come looking for them.
Why? Hunter would like to know. The bandit leader didn’t strike Hunter as a man who was too worried about his men.
He had sent so many against the townsfolk, and so many of the bandits had died in the attacks.
Hunter didn’t believe that the outlaw cared about his men any more than a man might care for his boots.
They were useful, but if they disappeared, he could always get more.
“That Alberto sounds like he’s been licking El Aguila’s boots a little too much,” Jeff whispered, shaking his head. “The man’s not sending anyone for them.”
“I agree,” Hunter said. But there was something about the way Alberto spoke …
“What?” Jeff asked. “What is it?”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just that he seems so sure. Like he knows for sure that El Aguila will get them out of here. That’s why he’s not talking. He really thinks that soon he’ll be free and back with the rest of their crew.”
“So?” Jeff asked.
“So, what if we’re wrong?” Hunter asked. “What if El Jefe really is going to send someone?”
“You must remember, Miguel, that we are part of El Jefe’s plan,” Alberto went on sagely. “And what does he always tell us?”
“If we’re captured, sit tight, keep our mouths shut, and?—”
Just then the door to the office opened.
“Hello?”
The prisoners stopped speaking as though they had been gagged.
It was over. Hunter cursed under his breath. They had been close to hearing something important; he was sure of it. He swallowed his disappointment.
“Grace,” Hunter said, standing up quickly when she walked into the room. “What are you doing here?”
She frowned, and Hunter realized that his tone had been quite harsh.
“I mean that it’s so nice to see you here,” Hunter said, ushering her back out the door. He didn’t want her in the station where those ruffians were. It wasn’t safe.
“Why are you dragging me outside?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”
Hunter sighed. “It’s just better to talk out here,” he said when they were on the porch.
“Why?” Grace demanded. “You’re being strange. Did something happen?”
“No,” Hunter said, trying not to show his disappointment. He was so sure that Miguel and Alberto had been about to let something slip.
She studied his face and then smiled. “Okay. Well, I was baking this enormous batch of muffins, and I thought you guys might like some.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m sure Jeff would like some,” Hunter said. “Robert is out at the moment, but we can keep one for him too, even if I kind of want to knock him over the head lately.”
She chuckled. “And what about Alberto and Miguel?”
“How do you know their names?” Hunter demanded, suddenly worried.
“I’ve been cooking for them for a week, Hunter,” Grace said. She looked annoyed now. Her jaw was set as she folded her arms across her chest. “I know you’ve been working hard and that you’re very tired, but that’s no excuse not to listen to a word I’ve said to you.”
“I was listening,” he said. He had been so sure he was, but maybe there were a few points he’d missed.
“Clearly not,” Grace said. “Well, since I have your attention now, listen carefully. Robert asked me to cook for the prisoners. I’ve been bringing them three meals a day for the last week.
I know them by name. Okay?” She thrust the basket of muffins into his hands.
“Oh, and by the way, you’d better be more attentive tonight, or this marriage isn’t off to a good start at all. ”
With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off.
Hunter was left on the station’s porch holding the basket and wondering what had suddenly gone so very wrong.
“You’re in trouble,” Jeff said when Hunter went back to his desk.
“No kidding,” Hunter said. “I didn’t realize that being married was like traversing a bog. One wrong step and you’re covered in something unmentionable.”
Jeff laughed. “Well, that’s exactly why Bonnie is never coming here.”
“What?” Hunter asked. “She’s the woman who answered your advertisement, isn’t she?”
Jeff nodded. “And she’s an amazing letter writer. But I think, after watching my friends suffer at the hands of their moody wives, I’m just going to keep her as a friend. A long-distance once.”
Hunter gave a mirthless chuckle. “We’ll see.
Here, have a muffin, courtesy of my darling wife, who is probably going to flay me alive tonight if I don’t arrive home with some sort of apology for neglecting her all week.
And you can’t really blame her,” he added as an afterthought.
“I brought her all the way out here. It’s only natural that she’d expect me to occasionally hear a word she says! ”
Jeff took one and then, after a moment’s thought, he took another. “They’re good,” he said, taking a big bite. “Grace certainly can bake.”
“Yes, she is really good at that,” Hunter agreed.
He didn’t take any muffins to the prisoners but left them on the counter in the small kitchenette in the office.