Beyond This Moment (39 page)

He looked down, murmuring, "Don't step on her feet:"

She touched his arm. "I'm only kidding, Mr. Daggett. That's not the most important thing. Although"-she looked up at him, brow scrunched-"it might be in your case"

That drew a smile from him.

"May I ask you a question, Mr. Daggett?"

He nodded again.

"Have you asked this lady you're wanting to dance with to the town celebration yet?"

His eyes widened. "Oh no, ma'am. I wouldn't think of doin' that. I'm just hopin' to dance with her once. If she'll have me:'

Such humility and sweetness. "May I ask her name?"

The ruddiness of his face deepened. "Lori Beth:"

"Lori Beth;' she repeated. "That's a beautiful name."

"She's a beautiful lady."

Molly smelled the bourbon on him, though not as strong as before. What made a man as kind and good as Charlie Daggett drink the way he did? "I think you should consider asking her to the dance right and proper. I can't imagine Lori Beth saying no to you, Mr. Daggett" She squinted. "May I call you Charlie?"

He ducked his head. "I think that's fittin' enough. Recollectin' all we been through, and that I already call you Miss Molly."

"Well, all right, then ... Charlie. Let's get to dancing:"

James knelt to inspect the area again. Blood was all over the bushes, heavy in places. Twigs were broken and bent. Blood spotted the trail. But not a lot, and there were no drag marks. The dirt was smooth. Too smooth. It was as if the mountain lion had just leapt up into the trees with its kill. Which was impossible.

He turned his collar up against the cold and wind and studied the terrain. Overcast skies settled over the valley, and clouds shrouded the mountain heights. But the heavens had yet to unleash those storerooms, which had worked out well, since he'd escorted Molly to Little Italy yesterday. They'd delivered food to families, and the people all greeted her warmly, obviously having met her before. Angelo hadn't been there, but his mother and sisters had.

He'd invited Molly to have dinner with him tonight, but she'd said she had a "previous engagement" He determined again not to think about who she might be with.

Careful where he stepped, he moved over a couple of feet and peered closer. No blood on the boulders beside the bush. And none on the evergreens that lined the-

That's when he saw it.

He edged the foliage back to get a better look, and to make sure the afternoon sun wasn't playing tricks with the shadows. But there it was, outlined clearly in the dirt. A boot print, underneath, near the base of the bush, beyond where someone would walk. But not if someone had knelt there, hiding.

He sighed and nudged his hat back, experiencing that same feeling he'd gotten out at Spiveys' weeks before. He'd found a carcass that day, but he would bet his badge he wouldn't find one today. Not from this. Because this wasn't a cougar killing. It was cattle rustling. Yet someone had gone to a fair amount of trouble to try to make it look like a mountain lion's kill.

Walking back to the barn to speak with Glen Paulsen again, James decided not to reveal his hunch to the rancher just yet. Because that was all it was-a hunch. A boot print in the dirt didn't prove anything on its own. The new governor in Denver was pushing hard to put an end to cattle theft. Town council had received a recent report from the governor's office stating that the punishment for cattle rustling had been raised from one year in prison to three. And James knew that if Davenport got wind of cattle rustling in Timber Ridge, the man would try to use the opportunity to impress the new governor. All the more reason to keep things quiet until evidence was in hand.

Paulsen met him by the corral. "I told you. Cougar, right?" He gestured toward the barn. "One of my hands scouted the hills this morning. Didn't find a thing. The cat must've drug it off the path somewhere:"

James nodded toward the mountains. "I want to take another ride up through there, see what I can find. If I come across something, I'll stop back by." He shook the man's hand.

I appreciate that, Sheriff."

"Other than this-" James untethered Winsome from the post. "How are things going for you?"

"Going fairly well. Had a good summer:" Paulsen laughed. `And fall, what little there was of it. I just hope the winter's mild. I don't know if I'll make it through another one like we had four years ago:'

James remembered that particular winter. Snow fell in mid-September and didn't melt until April. Thomas and Rachel lost twenty head of cattle. Yet heavy snow in the mountains meant life-giving water to lowlands when the spring melt flowed into creeks and streams. It was a balance, and one of the ... dichotomies of living in the mountains of Colorado. James couldn't help but smile to himself, looking forward to using that big word on Molly. He'd found it in the dictionary late last night. He was determined to stump the woman.

He slipped a boot through the stirrup and swung into the saddle. "I'm praying it's a mild one too. For all of us:"

Angelo Giordano walked out of the barn, carrying a crate.

James nodded. "How's the boy working out for you?"

Paulsen looked in that direction. "Real well. I wasn't sure at first, like I told you. But he's a hard worker. And now that he can speak some English, that helps a lot:"

James paused. "He's speaking English?"

"Yep, he says that new teacher's giving him lessons:"

"Really?" Molly had failed to mention that to him. "I appreciate you giving him a chance, Paulsen. Means a lot to him and his family, I know."

As Paulsen walked back around the corral, James headed toward the road, trying not to dwell on what certain members of the town council would think of Molly's teaching Angelo English. There was nothing wrong with her doing that-in his book. But it would be in others'. He waved to Angelo as he passed, and the boy stopped to put down the crate he was carrying and waved big in return.

James smiled, glad the situation was working out. For everyone involved.

He scoured the mountainside for over an hour, looking for any sign of a carcass. But came up with nothing. He did find the remnants of a still, however, which he'd known was hidden away somewhere up in this area. Charlie Daggett had mentioned its vague whereabouts late one night after tying on a good one.

The wind died down, which helped with the chill, but the pewter blue-gray sky kept the promise of moisture close at hand.

On his way into town, James passed a trail leading to the creek that ran behind the schoolhouse, and he caught a flash of something through the trees. He slowed up. Just a couple of kids, looked like. Sitting on a boulder. Reminded him of when he and Daniel Ranslett used to sneak off as boys to try their father's tobacco or drink the last nips of whiskey from a pilfered bottle. He shook his head. That felt like a lifetime ago.

He started to ride on past when one of the boys turned and looked back. James tugged on the reins. Elijah Birch and ...

Elijah nudged Billy Bolden in the arm, and Billy turned. James would've waved and ridden on by if not for the guilt lining both their faces.

He dismounted, feeling an obligation to make sure the boys weren't doing something they ought not, and walked down the trail. "Afternoon, Elijah, Billy. How are you?"

"Fine, Sheriff, sir." Elijah's eyes were wide.

Billy scooted to the edge of the boulder and climbed down, holding something behind his back. "We're not doing anything wrong, Sheriff McPherson:"

One of the last things James expected from either of these boys was trouble. Another was seeing them together. "I'm not accusing either of you of doing anything wrong, Billy. I was just passing by and saw you. You know.. " He allowed a faint smile. "When I was a boy and got caught with something I ought not have, I always kind of... hid it behind me. Like you're doing now, son:"

Billy hesitated, then pulled his arm from behind his back. He held a book. "It's Dr. Whitcomb's, but she said we could borrow it"

"Yes, sir, Sheriff, that's right;' Elijah said, perched on the rock. "She says we can get whatever we want from her shelf"

James angled his head to read the title, and before he could catch himself, he smiled.

"See!" Elijah slid off the boulder. "I told you it was a girl's book!"

Billy's face reddened. "I didn't know. Dr. Whitcomb said it was her favorite. And she liked those other books we read:'

James remembered seeing this book on Molly's desk. "Little Women," he read aloud, and watched the boys cringe. If he wasn't mistaken, Rachel had a copy of the book at home. And if it was Molly's favorite, it might be good for him to give it a try.

Looking at Elijah and Billy, he found himself grateful for their friendship. Not just for the benefit to them both, but for what the friendship represented. Then he thought about how angry Hank Bolden could getthe man reacted first and asked questions later-and about what Bolden would say, and likely do, to Billy if he found his son befriending a Negro boy. Josiah Birch would be cautious, with reason, after what happened to him in town last summer. But he wouldn't have the same objections as Bolden.

But bottom line, the boys weren't doing anything wrong, and James had no reason to interfere. It was his job to keep townspeople safe, not mandate whom they spent time with.

"So you boys read a lot of books, do you?"

"Yes, sir;' they said in unison.

"Dr. Whitcomb has shelves of them;' Billy added.

"Well, I think that's a real good thing. And I'm glad we've got a teacher who encourages that. For you both:"

Back in town, James stopped by the office. It was nearly five oclock, and Willis was already gone. Deputy Stanton was out making regular rounds in the saloons and gaming halls, serving as a visible reminder. A U.S. marshal by the name of Wyatt Caradon had picked up the three prisoners first thing that morning, so the place was quiet.

James tossed his hat on the desk and started to sit, intending to get some work done, then turned to watch folks pass by on the street outside.

Little Italy ...

Molly had such hopes of making a difference there, which he was all for. But the changes she talked about yesterday-wanting better houses, more food-all that took money. Money his lean sheriff's budget didn't have, and the town's budget didn't either. Not that Mayor Davenport would have approved of it if it did.

Brandon Tolliver had the money, but he wasn't about to let go of it. Tolliver should be building those people houses for free. They were building his resort for practically that.

Needing to think things through, James grabbed his hat, closed up the office, and started walking. He always thought better when he walked.

He took the long way around town, checked on some of the buildings going up, and spoke with a couple of shopkeepers. Seemed everyone was getting excited about the statehood celebration coming up next Saturday night. He hoped the snow would hold off. A chill in the air was good, made the spiced cider taste all the better, but moisture wouldn't be welcome with the festivities being outdoors.

He chose the path leading around Maroon Lake and debated for about five seconds on whether or not to knock on Molly's door and see if she'd changed her mind about dinner.

He knocked.

But no answer. Apparently she was busy being "previously engaged:"

It was getting dark and he continued on around the lake. While he'd been honest with her about his feelings, and she'd seemed touched by his admission, even pleased, she hadn't reciprocated. Not in words anyway. Still, he sensed it. Or thought he did.

Passing the schoolhouse, he saw pale lamplight illuminating a side window and a curl of smoke rising from the chimney. Then he heard soft laughter-and voices-coming through a partially opened window.

"I'm sorry, ma'am!"

"No, no, that's all right:" A soft mumble. "Let's try it again. Ready? One, two, three. One, two-Ouch!"

Concerned, but mostly curious, James scanned the field and then the road to make sure no one was watching. He then crept toward the schoolhouse, feeling most un-sheriff-like as he did. He stayed close to the building, finding both safety and discomfort in the shadows.

He edged his way to the corner of a window and peered inside, and what he saw drew a laugh he barely held back. Oh, that woman ... Was there no end to the kindness in her heart?

30

istening for the knock on her door, Molly turned sideways for a last look in her bedroom mirror. She smoothed her hands over her abdomen and pulled the fabric of the black dress taut. She'd definitely grown in recent weeks. Or, more rightly, her baby had grown.