The Bride's Prerogative (30 page)

CHAPTER 34

L
ibby held her pearl-handled revolver in her hand when she went to open her door. Gert stood on the landing outside.

“Did you hear? The mayor’s been shot.”

Libby sighed and lowered the pistol. “I wondered what it was all about.”

“Come over to the Walkers’ with me,” Gert said. “Ethan’s taken a posse after the shooter, and I don’t want you here alone.”

“A posse? They know who did it?”

“I saw him.” Gert’s mouth was set in a grim line.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I was waiting outside Bitsy’s for Ethan. The killer came out of the shadows over by the telegraph office and shot Mr. Walker. Then he stole Ralph Storrey’s horse. Ralph’s madder than a wounded grizzly. I wanted to ride with the posse, but …” Her face contorted in a grimace. “We may be deputies, but we’re still women. Come on. And bring your gun. I don’t have one.”

“Would you like to carry my Peacemaker? I’ve got the little Smith & Wesson now.”

“I’d feel easier,” Gert admitted, and Libby ran for the weapon and her cloak.

A half dozen women had gathered in the Walkers’ kitchen. Apphia Benton met Gert and Libby at the door and told them in hushed tones that Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Harper, and the minister were with the mayor.

They milled about, talking quietly. Myra Harper and Ellie Nash took over the cookstove and made coffee and gingerbread for any who wanted some. Libby kept several pans of water boiling in case Annie called for it. After half an hour, Annie emerged from the bedchamber, asking for clean rags. Libby and Gert searched about but couldn’t find anything that looked the least bit frayed.

“Typical of Orissa,” muttered Ellie. “Here, take this.” She handed Annie a clean linen towel.

“How is he?” Libby asked.

“Not good. I’m afraid the bullet’s done more damage than I can undo. If we had a surgeon …” Annie shook her head and went back into the bedroom.

A knock sounded on the door, and Libby hurried to open it. Emmaline Landry with Starr Tinen, her little girl, and her mother-in-law entered.

“Micah rode off with the sheriff’s posse,” Emmaline said as she removed her bonnet. “He told me to get the Tinen ladies and come here, as Arthur Tinen and his father were with the posse, too.”

“They’d gone into town right after supper,” Starr explained. She stooped to help four-year-old Hester untie her bonnet strings. “I was looking for Arthur to come home, and here came Emmaline with word to fort up at the mayor’s house.”

Emmaline shrugged. “I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Micah wouldn’t stop and tell me everything. Just that the killer had shot Mayor Walker, and the posse was going to ride him down. Told me to get to town and stay here until they come back.”

“Did a single horseman ride past your place before that?”

“Not that I saw,” Emmaline said.

“Me either.” Starr gave Libby a pouty face as she stood. “We’d have been as safe at the ranch, now that Ma Tinen and I know how to shoot.”

“Oh well,” said Jessie Tinen, Starr’s mother-in-law. “It’s a chance to see the other ladies.” She took her granddaughter’s hand and walked with Hester toward the kitchen door. “So, tell me, is the mayor killed?”

“No.” Libby nodded toward the closed door of the bedchamber. “But his condition is grave. Annie Harper and Mr. Benton are seeing to him, but it doesn’t look promising.”

“Dear, dear.” Jessie shook her head.

As they entered the kitchen, the other women greeted Emmaline and the Tinens. Florence drew Starr into a corner for a gossip, and Ellie offered refreshments to the newcomers.

Gert paced back and forth between the wood box and the pitcher pump that loomed over one end of the cast-iron sink. The Walkers were one of the few families to have a pump in the house, and Libby tried to squelch her envy each time she looked at it.

She cornered Gert near the wood box. “Should we make a foray to the emporium? If they need more bandages …”

“I could go with you if you like.” Gert’s eagerness told Libby she chafed at the confines of Orissa’s kitchen, no matter how modern the furnishings.

“Let me ask Annie if they need anything else.”

Libby went to the bedroom door and tapped softly. Mr. Benton opened it. Beyond him, Orissa Walker sat stiffly at her husband’s bedside, her white face more pinched than usual. Libby’s heart wrenched for her. Annie’s broad back bent over the swathed figure on the bed. At her feet rested a wash basin full of bloody water and drenched cloths.

Libby murmured to the pastor, “Miss Dooley and I thought we’d go together to my store and fetch anything that’s needed here. I’ve some soft cotton Annie could use for bandages, and perhaps she could use some peroxide or salve.” She shrugged, trying to think what other medicinal supplies she had in stock. She had yet to replenish some of her inventory since the fire.

Mr. Benton consulted Mrs. Harper and returned with a short list of items the nurse thought would be useful. When Libby reached the front hall, Gert waited for her. Light spilled from the door of the front room, and the gentle murmur of Apphia’s voice reached them.

“They’re praying,” Gert whispered. “Mrs. Benton suggested it, and they’ve all gone into the parlor.”

Libby snatched her cloak and handbag from the coat tree near the door.

“It frets me that Emmaline didn’t hear anyone ride past her house before the posse came,” Gert said as they went out into the cool evening. “I saw the shooter ride off, and Griff saw him go past the livery. That’s the last anyone knows for sure about where he went.”

“There’s not much out there but a few ranches.” Libby took out the key to the store.

“What if he cut off across country or circled back? He could be anywhere now.”

“You mustn’t worry.” They reached the store, and Libby unlocked the door. They spent the next ten minutes gathering a basket full of supplies for Annie. Libby added a pound of tea and a small sack of sugar. When they left, Gert looked carefully about before they stepped out onto the boardwalk. The street was silent and dark except for lights from the two subdued saloons and the few houses on Main Street. Gert kept the Peacemaker in her hand as they walked.

“I think we should tell the others about the pennies.”

Libby eyed her in surprise. “You mean the one on my counter after the fire and the one Ethan found near Bert Thalen’s body?”

Gert nodded. “There was one near Milzie’s body, too. My brother found that one. And … well, there’ve been others you probably don’t know about.”

Libby’s pulse beat faster, and her throat squeezed. “When?”

“After the warehouse fire, and again tonight.”

“No.”

“I’m afraid so. This killer has been using the mayor for his latest target.”

Libby slowed her steps. “And Ethan knew this?”

“Not specifically. Until tonight, I mean.” Gert’s mournful expression and ragged voice tugged at Libby’s heart. “We’ve talked about how this outlaw seemed to be going after important people in the town. You, Bert, Cyrus. And now Mr. Walker.”

Libby nodded slowly, thinking back over the last two months. “Cyrus because of Milzie being killed in his office.”

“Yes. And Isabel saw a man loitering in the alley there, too.”

“I remember. She and Cyrus came to tell me about it.” Libby shivered. “So you think he was lying in wait for Cyrus, not for me or Isabel.”

“The more I think about it, the more I believe that.”

“It’s almost a relief to hear you say that—it means he probably wasn’t planning to do me bodily harm. Although the fires …” She studied Gert’s profile as they approached the Walkers’ dooryard. “What would he have against Cyrus? And me and Bert and Mayor Walker, for that matter?”

“That’s what we need to find out. I think it’s time we brought the rest of the ladies in on this.”

“How can they help?”

Gert reached to touch her arm, and they stopped walking before the front steps. “We need to figure out who’s doing this. If the men don’t catch up with him, he’ll kill again.”

Libby stared into her friend’s troubled eyes. The lamplight from the window of the Walkers’ front room illuminated Gert’s face.

“My dear, you saw the mayor attacked tonight. You’ve had a shock.”

“No, Libby, listen to me.” Gert’s voice cracked, but she went on earnestly. “I should have been able to put a name to the killer. I saw him. True, his face was hidden. I tried to help Ethan by describing the man’s size and clothing and demeanor. It didn’t help. Now, Ethan is a fine man, and a fairly clever one, don’t you think?”

“Yes, dear, he’s a very fine man.”

Gert nodded and chewed her lower lip for a moment. “But if he and Hiram and I can’t figure this out, we need more people. Different folks come at things from different directions.”

Libby could see that nothing short of a powwow would calm her young friend. “All right, let’s go in and talk to the ladies then. If the posse can’t solve this case, perhaps the Ladies’ Shooting Club can.”

Ethan sent two men to check on the Robinsons and rode onward. Only one more homestead on this road before it petered out in the hills. Milzie Peart’s. A few minutes later, he and Hiram pulled up next to the burned-out cabin. A dozen men thundered in behind them and reined in their mounts.

“When did this place burn?” Griffin asked.

“Sometime this spring.” Ethan looked toward the hillside. “We’d best check the old mine, but I don’t see any horse.”

Hiram dismounted and dropped Hoss’s reins. Ethan and Griff climbed down to join him. Ethan turned to address the other men.

“Wait here. There’s a cave yonder, and we’ll check it.”

A minute later they stood to one side of the entrance. Hiram sniffed the air. Ethan quirked his eyebrows at him, but Hi shook his head.

“I’ve got matches,” Griffin said. An instant later, a small light flared up in his hands.

“There’s candles inside.” Before Ethan could stop him, Hiram scurried into the cave. The light flickered out, but Hiram reappeared in the entrance as Griffin lit another match. The gunsmith held out a short stub of candle, and Griffin put the match to the wick.

“If he were in there, he’d have shot us by now,” Ethan noted.

“Sorry.” Hiram ducked his head.

“Not the most brilliant thing you ever did.”

They walked into the cave together, with Hiram holding the candle high. A quick survey told them the cave was empty, and nothing appeared disturbed.

“Let’s go.” Ethan led them outside again. As they descended the path to the waiting posse, the two men he’d detailed at the Robinsons’ rode up.

“No one’s been by there until we came,” Parnell Oxley called.

Ethan bent and caught Scout’s reins. He looked up at the starry sky, thinking.
Lord, show me what to do
.

“We’re wasting time,” Griffin said. “He could be anywhere by now.”

Cyrus urged his mare over closer to Ethan. “Suppose he cut off by my ranch and rode west.”

“Could have, I guess,” Ethan said. “Or he could be up in these hills.”

“No sense going up there in the dark,” Micah Landry growled.

“What now?” asked Zach Harper. “Head back to town?”

“Hate to do that.” Ethan rubbed his scratchy chin. He looked around at the men. “How about if we split up? Half keep going this direction, and half go out the Owyhee Road?”