A Dream to Call My Own (22 page)

Marie didn’t say another word. She picked up the bowl and hurried from the room. Rafe looked back at the wall. Now was a poor time to go getting a rush of conscience.

He didn’t know why the idea of killing Dave Shepard bothered him so much. He supposed it might be because Dave had always treated him fairly. He really didn’t have anything against the man. Of all the lawmen Rafe had known in his day—and he’d known plenty—Shepard had impressed him with his honesty. There had been many times when Rafe had hinted at putting Dave under his hire, but the man had stood fast.

Reaching into his drawer, Rafe took out a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t even bother with a glass, just lifted the bottle to his lips and took a generous swallow. The amber liquid burned for a moment, then warmed and soothed the empty feeling Rafe held within.

He thought of Dave’s mother and how he’d often traded with her for eggs and butter. She would be beyond grief when she learned that her son was dead. And for what? Because he knew more than he was supposed to? Because he did his job well?

Imagined pictures of Dave’s funeral ran through his mind and melded into all-too-real images of George Gallatin’s burial. George was the first person Rafe had ever arranged to have killed. He was also the last. It didn’t set well with Rafe to kill. For all his bravado about being willing to take the life of any man who crossed him, Rafe found murder difficult to live with.

Maybe that’s why he was in this state of mind. He hadn’t been able to think clearly since the early-morning talk he’d had with Wyman and Mulholland. They had dictated how things would be, and Rafe really had no choice but to let the pieces fall into place.

“What a waste,” he muttered.

Sometimes Rafe couldn’t help but wonder what his life might have been like if Cubby’s mother would have just settled down and married him. If they could have been a family with a home of their own, maybe things would never have gotten this crazy.

Rafe took another drink and wondered if Wyman had done the deed yet. Had he killed Dave Shepard? Would he leave his body in the nearest canyon ravine like they planned to do with Big John’s? A thought of Lacy Gallatin came, unbidden. He remembered the night her father had been killed. She’d knelt in the dirt beside him, staring at the men around her with a burning accusation that had shaken Rafe to his boots. She had never stopped looking for her father’s killer—never stopped seeking justice. Somehow she had known George Gallatin’s life had not been claimed by a simple accident.

“Just like she’ll know it was no accident that took her fiancé.”

His thoughts turned to Cubby. “I’ve failed that boy for sure.” He was what? Sixteen, seventeen by now? Rafe had lost track of the years but not the memories.

Cubby might have known an entirely different life had Maryland lived and cared for them both. He would have had a mother’s love and comfort. He would have known the tenderness that Rafe had never been able to give him. Of course, if Maryland had stayed, perhaps Rafe would have been able to show his son kindness and love. After all, didn’t a person have to experience those things in order to pass them on?

“It’s all her fault,” Rafe declared. “She was nothing but a no-good, cheatin’. . .” He didn’t bother to finish the statement. It was clear what she was. Why validate it by speaking it aloud? Maryland had been the beginning of all his troubles, even if he’d thought otherwise at the time. They were better off without her—especially Cubby. He didn’t need that kind of a woman in his life. She would have only hurt him more had she stayed.

Rafe shook his head and stared at the whiskey. What would happen to the boy now? What would Cubby think of him once the truth was revealed? He was more like those Gallatins every day. Cubby’s strange sense of values only served to remind Rafe of his own rotten, hard heart.

“Well, he can be a do-gooder if he wants. He ain’t no use to me.” Rafe pulled the bottle close. This was the only real friend he’d ever had. The only faithful companion.

Rafe looked around the room. The saloon and land were all he had to show for his years of swindling and cheating. Mulholland had grandiose schemes for the future, but Rafe realized he had no desire to be a part of them. Especially if he had to play a subservient role to Mulholland.

It was odd, Rafe thought. He’d always believed himself far more cunning than most. He’d seen himself as a leader among men. But Mulholland’s arrival seemed to reveal all of his flaws. Where Mulholland was suave and sophisticated, Rafe was blundering and unpolished. Jefferson Mulholland could smoothtalk his way out of trouble and into success in a way that Rafe could never hope to accomplish.

“Well, who cares?” Rafe muttered. “I’m not gonna stick around to be anyone’s lackey.” He finished off the bottle and tossed it to the floor. The glass shattered at his feet, but Rafe ignored it.

Opening the drawer of his desk, Rafe pulled out a revolver and smiled. “No one’s gonna tell me how to run my life. I’m the boss here. I’m the one who decides what will be.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Gwen and Beth heard the gunfire and exchanged a glance. “I won’t miss that when we move. The people around here seem determined to kill each other off.”

Beth shook her head and looked at the now-sleeping Adam. “I wish the doctor would hurry up and come. You don’t suppose that fellow we paid to fetch him has run off without doing the deed?”

“No, of course not. You promised him another coin when he returned with the doctor. He looked bad off. I think he’ll do the job in order to get his pay.”

Beth folded another dish towel and nodded. “Let’s pray the other man you found went straightaway to Bozeman for the sheriff and not to the saloon.”

“Well, I suppose we won’t know for some time. I hate to think of our men without additional support from the law.” Gwen looked out the window. “I know they had to go, but I can’t help wishing they had a few more to ride with them.”

“I know. I feel the same way.”

Gwen turned back and glanced at the clock. “The stage will be here in less than two hours.”

“The rooms are ready. If the stage is full, we’ll have to put some of them in the addition since Adam needs a room to himself,” Beth said, getting to her feet with a stack of folded towels.

“That’s what the addition is for,” Gwen said. “Still, I hope there won’t be any complaints. I’m not in the mood to deal with surly folks tonight.”

“At least there shouldn’t be any complaints about your baked chicken and sponge cake.”

A knock sounded at the front door, and Gwen immediately went to see who it might be. She sighed with relief when she saw Dr. DuPont standing on the other side, along with the miner who had gone to get him.

The older man smiled. “I heard I was needed.”

Gwen stepped back. “Yes. We have a young man who was shot in the head. It’s a graze wound, but he’s in a lot of pain.”

The doctor nodded and stepped into the house. “Used to be the only wounds I dealt with were gorings and falls; now it seems guns are involved all the time. Show me the way.”

Beth joined them and smiled at the miner. “I have the rest of your pay,” she told the man. Depositing the towels on the hall table, she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the coin. “Thank you so much for your help.”

The man grinned proudly, revealing several blackened teeth. “No problem, ma’am. Glad to help. You just call on old Jasper anytime you need.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.”

Beth watched him head down the porch steps and toward Rafe’s before she closed the door.

“I hope he doesn’t drink away his pay. But I suppose it’s his business what he does with his money.” She was heading to the kitchen when pounding sounded on the back door. This was followed by a woman’s shrieks for help.

Beth put the towels aside once again and opened the back door. It was Regina, the youngest of Rafe’s prostitutes. Tears were streaking down her ashen face.

“You’ve got to come quick, Miss Beth.”

“What in the world is wrong?”

“It’s . . . it’s Rafe. He’s shot himself.”

“Shot himself?” Beth asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. There’s blood everywhere. I think . . . he’s . . . I think he’s dead.”

Dave took another blow to the face. Wyman seemed to enjoy inflicting pain. He only laughed as Dave’s head bobbed back and forth.

“Sooner you cooperate,” he told Dave, “the sooner we can be done with this.”

Licking his sore lips, Dave shook his head. This man meant to kill him, and Dave knew it was just a matter of when. So far at least, Dave had managed to ward off the more debilitating blows by ducking his chin against his chest. Weakening, however, he’d caught Wyman’s fist twice to his mouth and nose. He desperately needed to figure a way out before the attack knocked him unconscious.

“I’m going to ask you one more time: What did Big John tell you and who did you share the information with?”

Dave looked up through swollen eyes. “I’m not telling you anything, Wyman. It’s enough that you know I have the facts I need to see you and your associates put away for life.”

Wyman got down in his face. “You ain’t in a position to do nothin’. Big John is dead and can’t testify against us. What do you say to that?”

He had already suspected as much. Pity that the man had been killed, but they had his signed statement. He had privately testified before the judge shortly after his arrival in Bozeman.

“I say you’d do well to stop this now, before anyone else gets killed. You’re already facing murder charges for Big John. Why kill anyone else and make matters worse for yourself?”

“Big John ain’t the first man I’ve killed,” Wyman said, sounding proud of the fact. “In fact, I find killing pretty easy. It’s the askin’ and answerin’ questions that annoys me.” He pulled out his revolver and waved it in front of Dave’s face. “Now tell me, who all did Big John talk to and what did he say?”

Dave returned his stare as best he could. He could feel his nose starting to swell. Wyman put the revolver against Dave’s knee.

“I’ll shoot you, just as sure as sin. You’ll suffer a lot before I’m through with you. It won’t be a quick and easy death, like your friend George Gallatin had.”

The words hit Dave harder than one of Wyman’s punches. “What did you say?”

Wyman’s laugh was cold and calculating. “Don’t tell me I wasn’t a suspect. You’ll hurt my feelings, Shepard.” He delivered an unexpected punch to the side of Dave’s head.

Dave felt blinding pain as stars danced in his vision. Much more of that and he would be unconscious. Unconscious. Dave thought for a moment and pretended to be worse off than he really was. “I knew you . . . and . . . Rafe . . . that you . . . had the responsibility. Didn’t . . . know . . . who pulled the trigger.”

“Rafe doesn’t do his own dirty work if he can get someone else to do it—just like now. He wants you dead, but he doesn’t wanna have to do it himself. ’Course, given the fact that I rather enjoy these things, I woulda done it for free.”

“And . . . George?”

“What about him?” Wyman laughed. “He was a stupid old man, and Rafe wanted the hotel. You know that. He wanted to expand and have a big place for the cowboys to spend their money. We were set to make a fortune together. Me dealing cards, and him selling cheap whiskey. When Gallatin wouldn’t even consider Rafe’s offer, I suggested we take matters into our own hands.”

Wyman seemed so pleased with himself that Dave figured to buy time by keeping the man talking. The more Dave pretended to slur and struggle with his speech, the more Wyman seemed to relax and share his story. “When did . . . you . . . decide . . . to kill him?”

Wyman gave a little shrug. “Well, we thought about takin’ one of the girls. We knew that would get the old man’s attention, and we could threaten to hurt them or kill them unless he signed over the property.”

“But you . . . didn’t,” Dave gasped out.

“Rafe wasn’t keen on the idea. He figured it would bode bad for us and that the law would catch up eventually.” Wyman waved the gun. “He was right—I could see that for myself. That’s when we figured if we killed the old man, the girls would pack up and leave.”

“How were you going to keep the law from figuring out that you killed George?” Dave hadn’t meant to ask the question so clearly. He moaned and let his head bob again from side to side.

Wyman looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Well, you didn’t know I did it until just now, did you? We knew there’d be a night when it all came together—we just watched for an opening. That night when the boys were good and drunk and startin’ to get out of hand, I knew it would be the perfect cover. The only thing I needed was an excuse to get George in the same vicinity.” He sneered and gave a huff. “But fate smiled on me as she’s always good to do. I was gettin’ ready to send Cubby to fetch George when he came walkin’ across the road just as the boys began firing off their guns in celebration. I just grabbed my gun and joined in.”

Dave let his head fall back. He stared at Wyman from barely opened eyes. “Just like that?”

Wyman shrugged. “Why not? It took care of the problem. Well, in part. We didn’t count on the Gallatin sisters wanting to stick around after that. Rafe tried about everything he could to get ’em out of there. They’re such a stubborn lot.”

Then, as if realizing he’d somehow been duped, Wyman’s eyes narrowed. “This ain’t about Gallatin or his girls.”

He hit Dave with the butt of the gun. Dave pulled back to avoid the impact, but he wasn’t fast enough. The wooden grip struck his jaw. Suppressing a moan of pain, Dave forced himself to keep staring at Wyman. He wasn’t about to give the man any satisfaction.

“Now, tell me what I want to know or I swear I’ll put a bullet in your knee.”

“I already told you,” Dave said, barely able to make his mouth work. “I know enough . . . to see you put behind bars for good.”

Wyman hit him with the gun again—this time making a jabbing punch into Dave’s nose. Stars danced in the deputy’s eyes as a burning sensation ran up his face and spread. Knowing he couldn’t withstand much more, Dave pretended to black out. He slumped forward and would have toppled over had he not been bound to a chair.

Cursing, Wyman called for one of his men. “Get some water and get him awake. This ain’t over yet.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Are you telling me you still haven’t gotten the information?”

Dave recognized the voice as that of Jefferson Mulholland. Wyman sounded surprised to see the man.

“When’d you get here?”

“Just now. I figured it was best to come check on things myself. I left Rafe to tend to business at the bar. He doesn’t seem to have the stomach for this kind of thing.”

Wyman laughed. “Yeah, he’s braver with girls than guys. He don’t mind at all cuttin’ on his girls, but he’d rather hire his dirty work done when it comes to men.”

“That’s why we work well together, Mr. Jenkins.”

“I s’pose so,” Wyman replied. “Didn’t care much for your ways at first, but I’m startin’ to have a newfound respect.”

Chuckling, Mulholland stood beside Dave’s chair. Dave could just make out his highly polished boots and the finely creased trousers. “Is he too far gone?” Mulholland asked.

“Nah,” Wyman answered. “I can still get the information out of him. Don’t you worry ’bout it.”

Dave heard someone else come into the room as Mulholland and Wyman continued to talk. He knew he had to keep his wits about him, and that wasn’t going to happen if he kept getting hit. He’d been constantly testing the ropes that held him and knew there was no chance of getting out of them quickly. He was hopeful, however, that if Wyman would just give up on him for a time and leave him be, Dave could work them loose.

“Just pour it on him,” Wyman ordered.

All at once cold water covered Dave’s head. The shock instantly caused him to start. There was no denying he’d rallied, but Dave knew he had to keep Wyman from questioning him. Blurry-eyed, Dave looked up.

“Pa? Is that you?”

Wyman frowned and Jefferson Mulholland rolled his eyes. “You’ve scrambled his brains. You’ll have to leave him be until he comes to his senses.”

“Or I can just kill him now,” Wyman suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t know who all he’s talked to. We can’t just suppose that he and Big John kept the information to themselves. Once we know exactly who else has been involved, we can either pay them off or silence them in some other manner.” Mulholland looked at Dave and leaned in. “Deputy Shepard, you have been a most unpleasant bur under my saddle.”

“I swear, Pa, I cleaned out the stall just like you asked. You can see for yourself.” Dave slurred his words for impact.

Mulholland shook his head and turned back to Wyman. “Look, kill him as soon as he tells you what we need to know. Then meet us back at the saloon. We’ve got plenty to do.”

“I’ll be there. Shouldn’t take much longer.” Wyman followed Mulholland and the other man outside, leaving Dave alone.

With Wyman gone, Dave immediately pulled against the ropes. It seemed to him they were a bit looser than before. He wriggled to the left and felt the rope that held his shoulder slip up over the back of the chair. With any luck he’d be able to get free before Wyman returned.

Lacy watched in the dimming forest light while Wyman and Jefferson Mulholland emerged from the shack, discussing something as the latter made his way to his horse, which was grazing alongside several other horses in a makeshift corral outside the cabin. She was also keeping a close eye on the other group of men that seemed to be waiting nearby. Ten minutes earlier, she’d barely managed to slip out of sight when she’d heard the horse and rider coming up behind her. Lacy had been surprised to see Mulholland. She’d half expected Rafe, but not his friend. She couldn’t help but wonder just how much Mulholland had to do with all the problems that were afflicting their little town. Seemed things had gotten much worse after his arrival.

Hiding in the shadows, she gently stroked the horse’s muzzle to reassure him. Lacy watched as Mulholland and Wyman continued to talk. What were they doing? She longed to overhear the conversation but knew she couldn’t risk getting closer. All at once, the discussion ended.

Mulholland mounted his horse, said something else, then turned the animal back down the trail he’d come in on. Lacy watched as Wyman crossed to where the other men stood. He seemed upset about something and waved his arms as if to emphasize his displeasure. He spoke for several minutes to the men. Again, Lacy wished she could hear what he was saying.

Wyman stepped back, signaling an end to his instruction. One by one, the men nodded. They quickly went to retrieve their horses, and before Lacy knew it, they’d mounted and followed after Mulholland. She couldn’t help but wonder if Wyman planned to have the man killed. Surely Rafe would never stand for that.

Once the men were gone, she waited to see what Wyman would do next. If she’d kept accurate track of the situation, everyone was gone except Wyman and Dave. Of course, she hadn’t actually seen Dave, but his horse was standing in the makeshift corral.

She leaned back against a tree and drew a deep breath as Wyman made his way back to the cabin. What if he’d already killed Dave? She uttered a silent prayer for wisdom and help. This wasn’t going to be easy, no matter how much she wanted to protect Dave. Wyman was a mean-spirited, evil man who wouldn’t care a bit if she got hurt. In fact, he’d probably relish it.