Chapter 14
The thaw Gideon Welling had been waiting for finally arrived in the middle of February.
He did not move his men out immediately, not when the trails and roads were muddy enough to trap a horse.
Instead, he bet on a freeze to follow, and when it arrived bearing biting winds and no snow, when ground was hard and easy to cover quickly, he judged it was time to leave Rawlings.
No one objected. Marcie was pretty sure he had contracted the pox from one of the whores.
Dix didn’t have much to show for all the nights he spent playing poker.
Avery Butterfield was tired of drunks trying to pick a fight with him just because he was biggest man in the saloon and they figured—hell, he didn’t know what they figured.
He was the biggest man in the saloon, for God’s sake.
They got their ten-dollar horses and forty-dollar saddles from the livery, mounted up, and set out for the Morning Star ranch.
* * *
“Hey, Marshal Bridger.”
Cobb was about to step inside his office when he heard the greeting.
He backed up and turned to face the street.
“Hey, Rabbit.” He put up a hand to greet Finn as well.
The boys were riding in the buckboard they used to take visitors to the Pennyroyal, but this afternoon they were alone in the wagon. “Where are you off to?”
Finn, who held the reins, brought the wagon to a halt when it was abreast of Cobb. He pulled down his red woolen scarf so he could be understood. “We’re going out to Morning Star.”
Cobb’s eyebrows puckered as he frowned.
Rabbit said, “He’s talkin’ about Mr. Longstreet’s ranch. Sounds a heap better than callin’ it the old Burdick place.”
Realizing the boys had misinterpreted the reason for his look, Cobb nodded. “It does sound better,” he agreed. “So why you are going out there, and do your gran and pap know?”
Finn said, “You sure got a powerful interest in what folks are doin’.”
“Part of the job,” said Cobb. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his long coat to keep them warm. “And you haven’t answered the question.”
Rabbit jerked his thumb over his shoulder to point to the bed of the buckboard. “That crate is for Mr. Longstreet. Delivery all the way from Chicago. Probably something from one of those catalogs, but Finn and I are on our honor not to do any investigating.”
“Yeah,” said Finn. “We got the same powerful interest in folks that you do, Marshal, only we ain’t got the credentials to make it anything but nosy.”
“Is that right,” Cobb said wryly.
Finn either missed the edge of sarcasm or, more likely, chose to ignore it. He said, “Sure. That’s why Rabbit called out to you. We were goin’ to stop here anyway.”
Cobb turned his attention to Rabbit. “Oh?”
“We got to thinking that maybe there’s something you want us to do for you since we’re headed out there. You got a message for anyone? Maybe you want to send a pie or some cookies along. You know, just to be neighborly.”
“Uh-huh. Just to be neighborly.” He glanced back at the crate. “When did that come in?”
“I reckon about a week ago,” said Rabbit. “Pap held it thinkin’ someone from the ranch would be in and could take delivery, but no one’s shown up for a spell. That’s why it’s our job now.”
“Yeah,” said Finn. “And it’s not so far to the ranch house that we can’t get there and back before dark. Not that the dark bothers us. You know we do our best work at night.”
“I do know that.” Cobb was not warm to the idea of the boys going out to the ranch again, but he had no compelling reason to stop them.
He had seen Morgan one time since he and Jane visited his office together, and Max Salter had been in town shortly after that.
They had nothing to report. The ranch was quiet and there were no signs of anyone riding the outskirts of the property.
Then there was the crate. Cobb estimated it was three feet high, four feet wide, and another three feet deep. All kinds of things could fit into a box like that. It was tempting to look inside, but not even his credentials made that right or legal. He let it go.
“All right,” he said. “I guess I could send you out there with something from Jenny’s bakery.”
“Is there a message?” Finn asked hopefully.
“Yes. Give my best to Mrs. Longstreet.”
“That’s it? You ain’t goin’ to make us deputies? Rabbit and me figure we could be transportin’ somethin’ of great significance.”
Rabbit added, “Could be there’s gold. Guns maybe. Bottles of good whiskey packed in excelsior. It’s heavy enough. We’ve been speculating.”
“I bet you have. All right. Both of you, raise your right hand. Your right hand, Finn. Good. From this point forward, you are my special deputies, charged with the safe transport of this box to Morning Star ranch. Your commission ends when you report back in. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Mrs. Longstreet’s real nice,” said Finn. “She could invite to us sit for a meal like she did the last time.”
“Fine. Eat. But when you get back here, find me. Go on. You know where the bakery is. I’ll meet you there.”
* * *
A sharp, bitter wind buffeted Jane as she removed sheets from the clothesline. She collected wooden pins in her mouth as she moved along. It was difficult to know if the sheets were dry or merely frozen. They were certainly stiff.
“Here,” Max Salter said. “Let me help you. I don’t even think you should be doing this.”
Jane blinked. Like an actor stepping out to address his audience, Max had parted two sheets to make his entrance.
Jane plucked the pins from her mouth and dropped them into the pocket at the front of her apron.
“Here, take these.” She thrust the crackling sheets into his hands and quickly went down the line, removing shirts, shifts, and a union suit.
“Why shouldn’t I be doing this?” she asked.
Max shifted his slight weight from side to side and shrugged.
“Careful, Max. Stay steady or you’ll be three sheets to the wind.”
He laughed. “That’s a good one, ma’am.”
Above her armload of clothes, Jane smiled humbly and tilted her head toward the house. “Inside. Now.” The wind whipped her dress so hard that the ruffled edge of her petticoats turned up. She hurried off without looking to see if Max was following her.
He was. He got inside, wrestled the door shut, and dropped his load on top of the one Jane had put on the table. She was facing the stove, warming her hands over it. He held up his gloved ones, wriggled his fingers.
“Yes, I know,” she said. “It was foolish to go outside without gloves. I can’t find them. I can’t find anything these days, Max. Wherever I am, my mind is somewhere else.”
“I don’t think that’s unusual, considering your circumstances.”
“My circumstances? My circumstances are no different than anyone else’s. We are in this together, aren’t we?”
“Oh, certainly,” Max said quickly. “We are, of course we are. I was just thinking that…”
Jane arched an eyebrow, waiting. “Yes? Thinking that…?”
“Well, that it’s probably harder on you. You’re left behind, aren’t you? Today you’re with me. Yesterday it was Jem. Before that it—”
“I understand what you’re saying, Max, but I don’t agree with you. It’s harder on my husband. He can’t stay here all the time, and it tears a strip off his skin when he has to go.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” He took off his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets.
“It must be a hell of thing to have your brothers turning on you the way his are. Jessop and Jake were talking about it the other day, and they couldn’t imagine it until Jem started waxin’ poetical about Renee. Still, they didn’t really turn on him.”
“No, they wouldn’t do that.” Jane turned her back on the stove and began emptying her apron pocket. She tossed the pins into a basket on the table. The ones that missed, Max picked up and threw in. “Did I hear Morgan right this morning? They were riding out past Blue Valley?”
“Yep. Piney Hill. Settler’s Ridge. Leastways, the boss and Jake were going that way. Jem and Jessop were riding up to Hickory Lake.”
“Then it will be dark before they get back.”
“For the boss and Jake, sure. Jem and Jessop should come riding in before then. You thinkin’ about supper?”
“Yes,” she said, although she was thinking nothing of the kind. “I was wondering how many would be here for supper.”
“I’ve got my chores done. I could help.”
“It would be lovely to have company.” When Max started to unbutton his coat, Jane stopped him. “No, not yet. I need eggs. Six if you can encourage the hens to give them up. And you will probably want to put your gloves back on. Not one of them was kind to me this morning.”
“Good idea. And the next time you go outside, wear your coat.”
Jane accepted the tit for tat and waved him off.
While he was gone, she folded the sheets and clothes and carried them to the bedroom.
Max was not back when she returned. Supposing the hens were not being kind to him either, Jane put the basket of clothespins in the pantry and selected the items she needed to make Eggs Susette.
She dropped six fist-sized potatoes in the sink and placed everything else on the table.
Watching for Max out the kitchen window, she scrubbed the potatoes with a brush and then pierced each one a few times with a fork before placing them in the oven.
Afterward, she sat at the table with her cookbook to review the recipe.
Realizing she was going to need two more eggs, she stepped onto the back porch to call for Max.
She had no opportunity to say his name. A gloved hand arrested her speech as soon as she opened her mouth.
At the same time, an arm circled her waist and pulled her back hard enough to make her lose her balance.
Her assailant supported her. She stared at the bell she was supposed to ring.
It hung in its proper place, and it was well outside her reach.
“He’ll be coming along directly, Mrs. Longstreet. Don’t concern yourself that he won’t.”