Blue Moon Promise (3 page)

N
ate should have felt a sense of contentment and peace, but something was off tonight, and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

Standing in the corral, he went through the list of chores. The shapes of the cattle shifted on the darkening hillsides as they milled about. He’d checked the windmills and they were all pumping water, so the stock was hydrated. The chicken coop was locked up for the night. The horses were stabled and curried. Yet he struggled to relax the tense muscles of his shoulders.

He walked back to the barn and shoved the door along its tracks. The good scent of hay and horse rushed to his face as he stepped inside. He heard a sound behind him and turned, then saw Percy.

“Boss, supper is getting cold,” the cook said. “I called you twice.”

“I’m coming.”

“What’s eatin’ you? You look like a new calf spooked by a goat.”

There
. “Did you hear that?”

Percy tipped his head to the side. “Hear what?”

The noise came again. A sliding, shuffling sound. “Someone’s in the back stall,” Nate whispered.

He pulled his gun and approached the stall. A figure burst from the shadows. The man leaped past Nate and darted out the open barn door. Nate ran after him. He caught a glimpse of the man’s shirt as he vaulted around the corner of the barn. As he raced after him, Nate heard a jingle of horse tack. He rounded the barn in time to see the fellow mount his horse and ride off.

“Bring me a horse!” Nate ran toward the barn.

Percy was standing in the doorway, but at Nate’s command, he ducked back inside. When Nate reached the barn, Percy was leading Whisper from his stall. Nate quickly saddled his horse and mounted, but by the time he got to where he’d last seen the intruder, there was no sign of the man.

His gut told him the man would head toward the road. Setting off in that direction, he chafed at the slow pace he had to take with the uneven ground. He didn’t want to risk Whisper breaking a leg.

An hour later darkness had descended. He sat back in the saddle and looked down the hillside toward the road where the dim light of a lantern glowed by the darker shape of a buggy. The lantern swung in a man’s hand as he stepped out to greet the rider who reined in at the sight of him. The light allowed Nate to recognize the man. Drew Larson.

He watched Larson talk to the intruder, and though Nate couldn’t make out any words, there was no mistaking Larson’s angry tone. Larson climbed into the buggy and took off. The other man followed on horseback. Had Larson hired the guy to poke around in the barn? It seemed likely. Deep in thought, Nate rode back to the Stars Above.

When he arrived at the ranch, he lit a lantern, then went to the stall where the fellow had been hiding. Holding the light aloft, he studied the space. One corner held a small pile of wood. Nate knelt and picked up one of the logs. The odor of kerosene was strong, and it wasn’t from the lantern. The wood had been soaked in the stuff. Nate’s gut clenched.

Did Larson hate them so much?

NATE RODE TO town and reported what he’d seen to the sheriff, who wrote it down with a bored expression and promised to look into it. Nate didn’t believe a word of it. The man was lazy through and through. And a good friend of Larson’s to boot.

Still disgruntled, Nate stalked down to the café, skirting the puddles in the stockyard. He paused to scrape the noisome muck from his boots before stepping into Emma’s Café at the end of the street. Nate went to the only empty table on the opposite side of the dining room.

He’d no more than stretched his legs under the red-and-white tablecloth when Emma Croft appeared through the door to the kitchen. She was one of those ageless women who could have been forty. Her smooth olive skin held no wrinkles, but Nate knew for a fact that she’d come to the Red River area back when his dad was a young man. She had to be at least sixty. She didn’t take any guff from the men, and most of the trail riders knew better than to say a smart-mouthed word to her.

She plucked the pencil from her hair bun as she came toward him. “Thought I’d see you today, young Stanton. Where’s your daddy? I thought he and Paddy would be in today.”

“Due back from Chicago later this week.” Nate had always suspected Paddy O’Brien held a special place in Emma’s affections, but he’d never had the nerve to ask. “Arranging a sale of our spring herd.”

The light in her eyes dimmed. “That so? Well, tell him when he gets back that I’ll have a chocolate cake ready for him and Paddy.”

“They surely love those cakes of yours. I’ll tell him.” He hid a grin. “And Paddy, too, when I see him.”

She put the pencil to her pad of paper. “What will you have?”

He ordered a roast beef dinner and a piece of that famous cake. “Emma, have you seen any strangers around town?” He described the man he’d found in his barn.

Emma frowned. “A fellow like that had lunch with Larson yesterday. Didn’t catch his name.”

Nate pressed his lips together. More evidence, not that it would do any good to report it to the sheriff.

Emma sauntered back to the kitchen. The front door opened and Margaret O’Brien stepped inside. He lifted his hand and motioned to her.

A smile lifted her full lips when she saw him. “Nate, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Dressed in a plain, heavy skirt and her battered cowboy hat, she hurried toward him.

He stood and pulled a chair out for her. “Where’s your pa?” He thought about mentioning that Emma would be sorry he wasn’t here, but he wasn’t sure how she felt about her pa seeing a woman, so he said nothing.

“Home.”

“You came to town alone?”

She settled into the chair and took off her cowboy hat, revealing gleaming red hair. “I’m not some hysterical female who jumps at every shadow, Nate.”

He knew that well. His pa and hers had pressed them both to consider joining the two spreads. Maybe it was time to think about that. Margaret was a handsome woman, though he would have found it hard being married to her. She was a little intimidating. Not the kind of woman who would be wooed with flowery words and sweet talk. Discussions with her usually went to stock and horses.

He corralled his thoughts. “What brings you to town so late?”

She held his gaze. “I saw you come in. Pa’s been on me to commence with pursuing marriage between our families.”

He choked on the swallow of coffee he’d just taken.

Her green eyes softened but her chin stayed up in a defiant gesture. “Pretty forward of me, isn’t it? But we’ve been friends long enough for there to be no pretense between us. So I’m here to ask your intentions, Nate.”

His lungs constricted. “I—I haven’t given it much thought, Margaret.”

She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “I reckon we’re going to have to make a decision soon. Otherwise, my pa is going to be thrashing the bushes to find another landed suitor. Not that he’d have much luck. Most men seem to want tiny, helpless wives who can hang on their every word. That’s not me.”

At least Margaret was up front about what she wanted. He couldn’t say the same about most women he’d come in contact with. “If we’re going to think about marriage, don’t you think we should have some feelings for each other?”

She shrugged. “I like you fine, Nate. I’m sure you’re no worse in the morning than Pa.”

He grinned. “I reckon we’re going to have to think about it some.”

LUCY TOSSED AND turned on the narrow cot in the tiny parlor. A thin blade of moonlight slashed the floor and spread to the foot of the cot. If she could just climb that moonbeam and disappear . . . This burden was more than she could bear. God must have thought she could handle it or he wouldn’t have allowed it. She was a strong woman and this would just make her stronger.

Maybe hot milk would help her sleep. She rose and went to the icebox. Her hands closed around the glass jug and she held it up to the faint light. Nearly empty. She bit her lip and put it away. The children would need it more than her.

Turning back toward the cot, she heard a faint click. Almost like the door latch. Surely Jed wouldn’t be sneaking out. The wood floor was rough and cool against her bare feet as she tiptoed back toward the entry. She didn’t call out for fear of awakening Eileen. As she neared the door, a figure loomed out of the shadows, and she smelled a man’s hair tonic. The fellow was much too big to be Jed. It wasn’t Albert either. The figure was too burly.

Her memory flashed back to the man who’d been following her, and she recognized the shape of the hat. In her haste to back away, she stumbled over the hem of her nightgown and fell, banging her back against the leg of the cot. She bit back a cry at the pain that gripped her and struggled to scoot away from the intruder.

A man’s voice growled out of the blackness. “Where is it?”

She scrambled to her feet and felt for her footstool. It had to be here somewhere. Her fingers closed around it and she whirled to brandish it over her head. “Get out of here!” She swung the stool and it collided with the thug’s head.

He swore at her, and his calloused hand seized her arm. He tore her weapon from her hand.

“Help!” She darted away from the man and raced for the door that showed a crack of light from the way it hung slightly ajar. A middle-aged couple lived next door, and the husband was a burly ironworker. “Mr. Thomas!” She had no idea what time it was or if her choked cry was loud enough to summon help, but she was too small to deter the brute.

She threw open the door and screamed again before the man shoved her. She stumbled to her knees, then regained her feet and lurched to the porch, screaming for Mr. Thomas again.

A faint shout came from the house next door. “Coming.”

She whirled to face her attacker. He wore tan pants with suspenders over a dingy plaid shirt. He was tall and thick with a shock of pale hair that fell over angry eyes peering from under his floppy hat. His gaze flickered to the street. His scowl darkened, then he plunged into the wash of light from the streetlight before the shadows beyond swallowed him up.

Lucy gasped as Mr. Thomas, still belting his pants under his nightshirt, rushed up the steps to the porch. His wife was behind him. “A man broke into our house.” Lucy pointed down the street. “He ran that way.”

“I’ll summon the police.” Mr. Thomas rushed down the steps.

“Are you all right, my dear?” his wife asked, leading Lucy into the house. “Did he . . . ?”

Lucy shook her head. “He didn’t harm me, Mrs. Thomas, thanks to you and your husband.” She lit a gaslight, and its comforting glow filled the room. “I must check on the children. If they heard me scream, they’ll be frightened.”

Still clucking, the older woman followed her. “I’ll prepare some tea. You’ve had a shock to your nerves.”

Lucy nodded and rushed to the tiny bedroom at the back of the house where her siblings slept. Eileen lay curled up on her pallet, but Jed’s cot only contained rumpled covers. “Jed?” she whispered. She touched the cot in case her eyes deceived her, but her hand grasped only cool sheets.

Maybe her brother was in the privy. Retracing her steps, she crossed the parlor to the kitchen where she lit a lamp and carried it to the back door. She stepped onto the back stoop. “Jed, are you out here?”

Jed’s form appeared in front of the outhouse. “What’s wrong?” He rushed up the steps.

She hugged him. “There was a man in our apartment.” She released him long enough to draw him inside.

“Maybe he was looking for money,” he said. “He broke into the wrong apartment if he was.”

“He’s been following me.”

Jed went still in her arms, then pulled out of her embrace. “I’m scared to stay here. Scared for Eileen too. What’s going to happen to us now that Pa is gone?”

Lucy’s gaze jerked to her sister, who was rubbing her eyes in the bedroom doorway, before veering back to Jed. “I could marry Mr. Stanton’s son and get us out of here.”

His eyes were moist. “I think you have to, Lucy. Where will we go if you don’t?”

A knock came at the door, and a man’s voice called out, “Police, Miss Marsh.”

JED LISTENED TO the policeman question his sister. His heart rebounded against his ribs. He’d nearly told her. Dad would have been disappointed after he’d specifically said not to tell anyone, not even Lucy.

Eileen tugged on his arm. “I have to go potty, Jed.”

“Use the chamber pot.”

Eileen wrinkled her nose. “It smells.”

Sighing, Jed took her hand and led her to the back door. The outhouse loomed in the backyard. He took her to the building that listed to the left.

She snatched her hand from his. “I can go by myself.”

“I’ll wait outside.” He leaned against the door she closed and tried to make sense of what had happened.

His head ached every time he tried to remember the night of the accident. Flashes of the horse screaming, the rain pounding on his head, and the sound of the carriage screeching along the cobblestone swarmed in his head. Every time he tried to remember, those thoughts filled him with panic. He swallowed hard. There was something on the edge of his remembrance, but it always played hide-and-seek with him.

He straightened when Eileen came out the door, tugging down her nightgown. “Ready?”