Journey of the Heart (24 page)

She heard the horse before she could see him. He gave a little snort as he headed for the fence and realized there was no Gabe and therefore no oats. Yet he didn’t back away when she held out her hand, but thrust his muzzle into it hopefully. Cait slipped down next to him, half expecting him to shy away, but as though sensing her mood, he came closer and rested his muzzle on her shoulder, just as she’d seen Finn do with her father. It was as though Sky was trying to comfort her and the tears she had been holding back all evening finally came. She leaned against his shoulder, crying into it and the miracle was that he let her.

“You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you?” she whispered as her tears finally stopped. He turned his head and whuffed a few breaths down her neck. She took a deep shuddering breath and ran her hand gently up his neck. She expected him to back away, but he stayed close and butted her with his head as if to say: “Are you all right now?”

“How can I leave?” she whispered. “I do care for Henry, but not enough. Not the way a wife should, I am afraid. I
can’t
leave Ma and Da and ‘cleave to my husband,’ ” she said with a little sobbing laugh.

The word itself was strange. To cleave to Henry, to unite with him in that profound way seemed to mean that she must tear herself away from all she loved. And that felt like taking an ax and cleaving her heart in two.

“I can’t leave,” she told Sky quietly. “Not now. I don’t know if Henry can understand. I don’t know that I understand.”

Sky nodded up and down as if he had understood everything she had said. She smiled and then froze as she heard someone coming up behind her.

“Were you planning to ride him again?” Gabe’s voice came out of the darkness. He said it teasingly, but she was so startled that she couldn’t hear that.

“No, Mr. Hart, you needn’t worry that I’d do anything so foolish again,” she responded in a quiet voice, turning to face him. Gabe was standing on the other side of the fence, his gun in his hand. “I didn’t really think you were, Miss Cait,” he said apologetically. “But I heard someone out here and thought I’d better check.”

He bolstered his gun in such an easy practiced movement and Cait suddenly realized that there was a side of Gabe Hart she didn’t know at all.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explained. “Not after Eduardo.”

“Come on, let me get you back to the house,” he said, leaning over the fence and extending a hand to her. “You’ll catch yourself a death, as my ma used to say,” he added as he saw her shiver.

Cait reached out and took his hand, grateful for his support. It was awkward climbing in her wrapper and as it was, her robe caught on the fence and pulled away from her shoulders.

“Here, Miss Cait,” said Gabe, as he released it and draped it across her shoulders.

“Thank you, Mr. Hart,” she said, pulling it closed.

“It looks like Sky is worried about you,” he added as the horse tried to nuzzle Cait’s neck through the fence.

“I think we are back to trusting each other,” she said gratefully. “Though he was disappointed at first that it wasn’t you with a bucket of oats.”

“You’d best be inside, Miss Cait. Don’t you worry about anything,” he added. “Your father and mother will be all right. I am sure this is Mackie’s last try and all will be quiet after you leave.”

“You can’t be sure of anything where Mackie and Chavez are concerned and you know that, Mr. Hart. And I am not leaving,” she added quietly. She didn’t quite know why she was telling Gabe Hart before her parents, but it was said before she thought it out.

“What do you mean, not leaving?”

“Just what I said, Mr. Hart. I can’t go in the middle of all this.”

“But Mr. Beecham…he’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“I know, and I hope he will understand.”

“You’ll put off your wedding then?”

Caitlin stopped and looked up at Gabe. “I am not sure of anything anymore, Mr. Hart. Except one thing: this is my home and I will not leave it while it is being threatened.”

Gabe heard both the tears and determination in her voice. It must have been a hard decision for her to make. The girl he had thought Caitlin Burke to be most likely would have been heartbroken, but she would have left with her Henry. But this was not a girl’s decision, it was a woman’s.

They walked in silence until they reached the house.

“Good night, Mr. Hart,” whispered Cait.

“I am glad to hear you are staying, Miss Cait,” he whispered back. Cait tiptoed up the stairs, wondering why his words warmed her so.

Michael was up and on his way to town before anyone else but Elizabeth was up. The sheriff’s office was closed when he arrived, so he sat on the bench in front of the jail until he saw Sheriff Butler approaching.

“Are you waiting for me, Burke?”

Michael nodded and watched with barely concealed distaste as Butler wiped grease and crumbs off his mustache with his sleeve. He took his time opening the door and then sat down behind his desk and rummaged through some papers before looking up at Michael and belching.

“Excuse me, Mr. Burke,” he said with a grin. “Mary serves a heavy breakfast. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I am here to report the murder of Eduardo Vigil, Sheriff. I don’t think his killer or killers will be hard to find. If I were you, I’d go up to the Mackie ranch and start with Juan Chavez.”

“Now just sit down a minute, Mr. Burke, and let me take down the details. How do you know Eduardo was murdered?”

Michael gritted his teeth. “Because he had two bullets in his chest and one in his leg, Sheriff. And because my wife and I have been threatened several times by Mackie. You also know that only a short while ago, Mackie poisoned several of my sheep.”

“Mr. Burke,” said Butler with exaggerated patience, “I told you then and I tell you now, we don’t know anything of the sort. Those sheep could have eaten jimson weed for all we know. Mr. Mackie is one of the valley’s most distinguished citizens. Just because he wants to buy your ranch doesn’t make him responsible for a few sheep getting sick.”

“This time it wasn’t sheep, Butler! It was a good man murdered in cold blood. And Chavez was seen riding down from the sheep meadows only last week.”

“Was there any real evidence to suggest it was Señor Chavez who killed Eduardo?”

“If you mean, did he leave a card with his name on it, Sheriff,” Michael replied, “then no. But he is Mackie’s man and has bullied several families off their land.”

“But not hurt anyone, to my knowledge.”

“No,” Michael had to admit. “Not until now.”

“Tell me, Mr. Burke,” said Butler, leaning back in his chair, his hands folded over his big belly, “were any of your sheep missing?”

“About half the flock, but that does not mean anything, Sheriff.”

“Not mean anything? Why, Mr. Burke, it means that someone has been stealing sheep. Eduardo likely caught them at it and got killed for his loyal efforts to protect your flock.”

“It means that whoever did this wanted it to look like that. Damn you, Butler. Aren’t you going to do anything?” Michael demanded, standing up and leaning over the desk.

The sheriff’s chair came down with a thud. “I am going to take a deputy and ride out to see for myself, Burke. But I am not going to make a fool of myself charging the most prominent citizen of our town with murder.”

“I didn’t really think you would, Butler,” said Michael with barely disguised contempt.

It was no surprise, of course, he thought as he rode home, that that
gobshite
would do nothing. Mackie was the most powerful citizen in the valley and the sheriff made sure to keep on his good side. They would just have to hope that Mackie would give up when he realized that not even murder would make Michael sell.

He was so distracted by his frustrated fury that he didn’t notice the rider approaching until he was almost upon him. He pulled Patch up when he saw that it was Chavez on his black.

“
Buenos dias,
Señor Burke,” said Chavez with the annoying mock polite tone he used with everyone.

“ ‘Tis not a good day with such men as you and Mackie in it,” Michael replied coldly.

Chavez’s hand moved toward his gun, but Michael’s hand reached out and had the Mexican’s wrist in an iron grip.

“Oh, no, boyo, you won’t push me to draw on you. I’m slower and you know it and I’ve no intention of dying at your hands. And even the sheriff would have a hard time explaining my death away, seeing as I’ve just been to town to report Eduardo’s murder.” Michael’s eyes met Chavez’s cold, green-eyed stare and it was the younger man who lowered his gaze first.

“Take your hand off me, Señor Burke. I did not kill your Eduardo. And I am not about to kill you.”

Michael released Chavez’s wrist but let his own hand rest on his holster.

“It was a cold-blooded murder, Chavez, and you’ve been hanging around my sheep camp. If ever I have any proof, you can be sure ye’ll hang for it, boyo,” said Michael and then rode off without a backward look.

Juan Chavez had known that Michael Burke was not easily intimidated. But he may have underestimated him, he thought ruefully as he rubbed his wrist, with his Irish brogue and smiling blue eyes. Those eyes had not been smiling when they looked at him, no, through him. And although it may have been many years ago, the man had been an Indian fighter in the U.S. Cavalry.

Eduardo murdered? Chavez wouldn’t go so far as to say that he had liked the old man. But Eduardo had reminded him of Ruben, one of Romero’s riders and one, of the few men on the hacienda who’d been kind to him. Or at least not slapped him around. Damn Mackie. He must have sent someone up there and there had been no need for it. He wheeled his gelding around and headed back to the ranch.

Mackie was just finishing his breakfast when Chavez was admitted.

“Do you want some coffee, Juan?” he asked, looking up from his plate.

“I don’t want anything,
señor
, except an explanation.”

Mackie looked at him coldly. “I pay you to intimidate others, Señor Chavez, not to attempt it with me. Now sit down.”

Chavez clenched his hand as though to keep it from reaching for his gun and then relaxed it. There was no sense in antagonizing or killing his present employer, he thought ironically and with a deceptively mild voice said “
Si, señor
,” and sat.

Mackie took his time finishing his breakfast and then lighting up a cigar, looked over at Chavez and said: “Now what is it that requires an explanation?”

“I have just met Mr. Burke coming from town and he tells me that Eduardo Vigil was murdered.”

Mackie raised his eyebrows. “He wasted no time getting to the sheriff, did he? I’ll have to get Butler out here and see what Burke wanted.”

“He wants me,
señor
…hanging from a rope.”

Mackie laughed.

“It is not so amusing to me, Señor Mackie.”

“No one will be hanging from a rope, Chavez. He has no proof.”

“He certainly has no proof of my involvement, because I wasn’t there.”

“Look, Juan, your way worked real well with the other small ranchers. But Michael Burke is a stubborn Irishman who has had the misfortune to meet an even more stubborn one. I want this over with. I want his ranch. So I sent Wilson and Canty out to do a different kind of persuading.”

“I see. And so you think killing Eduardo will make Burke give in?”

“I’m sure of it. Why, he’ll be knocking at my door today, begging me to take his ranch.”

“Señor Burke was not in a begging mood when I saw him,
señor
,” said Chavez, with a thin smile.

“Oh, he’s likely angry now. Probably thinks he can get the law after me. But I own the law. Just like I own you, Chavez.
Comprende?”
Mackie looked Juan straight in the eye as he said it but this time, he was the one who lowered his gaze, even as Chavez said submissively, “
Si, señor. Comprendo.
”

Comprendo, señor
. I understand, Mr. Mackie. In Spanish or English, no matter who blinked first, what it really meant was “Yes, sir, boss.”

He’d been following orders for years, so why should it start bothering him now? Chavez wondered. Mackie was no better and certainly no worse than any of the other men he had worked for. They’d all paid him well and because he did his job better than anyone else, given him free rein. It was the closest he’d ever come to freedom since he was sold to the Romero hacienda. But every now and then he was made very aware that someone else called the shots. ‘
El Lobo’
they called him. ‘
El Lobo’
was how he thought of himself. But maybe, Chavez realized as he walked away from the ranch house, just maybe, he was only a dog disguised as a wolf. An old dog, at that. Almost thirty-seven and what did he have to show for his life? Nothing. No home, no woman, no children.
Dios
, it had never bothered him before! Why was he thinking like this now? There was something about Mackie and this damned valley. And, he had to admit it, about Michael and Elizabeth Burke. He respected Burke. He respected anyone who stood up to him. And Elizabeth Burke…. There was something about her that was disturbing, that made him remember things that he didn’t want to remember.

“
Mierde!
I’d rather be working for someone like Burke,” he said to himself with a mirthless laugh. But a man like Burke would have no need for a man like me. So, maybe you are only an old dog, Juan Chavez, and you know the old saying: You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

* * * *

Cait had planned to tell her parents about her decision to stay that evening after supper. But when Michael recounted his meeting with the sheriff, he looked over at his daughter and said, “Now, I don’t want ye thinking we want to get rid of ye, Cait, but ‘tis glad I am ye’ll be off with Henry soon.”

Cait was sitting across the table from Gabe and when he looked up at her father’s words, met his eyes. He gave her an encouraging nod, and taking a deep breath, she said: “Da, Ma, I have something to tell you. I am not going back with Henry. At least not now.”