Devils on Horseback: Nate (10 page)

As he tucked the hardtack and jerky into his saddlebags, Zeke approached him with worry in his normally blank expression.

“Jake’s not back yet.” Those four words dropped like chips of stone from Zeke’s mouth.

“When was he due?” Nate didn’t think things could get any worse, but perhaps he’d been wrong. Again.

Zeke looked off toward town, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun. “Almost two hours ago. He left right after he got back from relieving you. Something about stretching his legs and he offered to pick up some extra bandages.”

“Did he specifically say when he’d be back?”

Zeke frowned. “No, but he’s not one to be gone so long without word.”

That was true. Jake might be a sometime thief, but he was a reliable thief who had spent the last fifteen years with the Devils. They all knew each other’s habits inside and out. If Jake was late, then something was wrong.

“Gideon said you’re headed out for a couple of days, taking care of the Taggert business.” Zeke tucked his hands in his pockets.

“I was planning on it, but if Jake’s in trouble then I need to stay.”

Zeke held up one hand. “No, we need to figure out the Taggert situation. Lee can stay here with Gid while I go find Jake.” He turned his brown eyes on Nate. “Be careful.”

It wasn’t said lightly. If anything, it sounded like a warning.

“You do the same.”

“Come back as quick as you can. We’ll just keep watch on the Taggerts ’til we hear from you.” Zeke shook his hand. “She won’t shoot us, will she?”

A grin crept over Nate’s mouth. “I don’t think so. She knows what I’m doing and why. We should have at least one day without any bullets flying from Elisa.”

What he didn’t say was that he couldn’t guarantee the bullets wouldn’t be flying from somewhere else.

“Rider,” Lee called.

“Is it Jake?” Zeke asked.

“No, wrong horse and seat. I’d say it’s that son of a bitch, Rodrigo.” Lee sounded annoyed enough to shoot the man for even daring to approach their camp again.

Rodrigo
.

Something Elisa said clicked in Nate’s mind. She’d said their foreman Rodrigo had left the ranch high and dry.
Rodrigo
. What were the odds it was a different man? Not likely. That meant he had intimate knowledge of the Taggerts ranch—no wonder O’Shea had been able to perpetrate such crimes. Of course, Nate was assuming Elisa had been telling the truth about everything.

Nate ran over to Gideon, who had risen and started walking the fifteen feet to the camp. He strode as if he’d hadn’t been shot six hours earlier. Nate shook his head. His friends were amazing men.

“I see him,” Gideon said as Nate approached.

“I just remembered something. Rodrigo used to work for the Taggerts.”

Gideon’s head whipped around to stare at the approaching rider. “Unfortunate for them. What did he do?”

“Foreman.”

“Ah, that’s where O’Shea got his information.”

Nate made a face. “No doubt. I don’t want him to know about Jake missing or about me chasing that bill of sale. We need to keep him away from my horse.”

“No problem. Lee can be his usual charming self.” Gideon flashed a wolfish grin.

When Rodrigo arrived, he didn’t bother dismounting, instead he stared down at the four of them. “Where’s your friend?”

“Busy.” Zeke’s curt reply could have cut granite.

“Mr. O’Shea wants to know what’s happening with the Taggerts.”

“Plenty.” Gideon’s equally short reply echoed Zeke’s.

“You boys can deal with me or you can deal with a posse of O’Shea’s hands. Your choice.” Rodrigo sounded as if he wanted to bring the posse back just to kick the shit out of the Devils.

Nate stepped forward. “Our original agreement was one month. We stepped up the timeline and told you two weeks, which was only three days ago. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but rest assured, you can tell him that we are actively pursuing the rightful property situation of the Taggert ranch. I guarantee it.”

His heart pounded at the thought that this man, this evil-looking piece of shit had been around Elisa as a young woman. No doubt he’d treated her badly and likely did all he could to destroy the Taggerts. The thought made Nate see red. Damn emotions kept getting in the way.

“Are we to expect visits from you every three days? If so, we can be sure to have tea and biscuits ready.” Lee snickered.

“I can kill you where you stand, put you out of your misery since you’re only half a man anyway.”

Lee surged forward, but his brother stopped him inches away from Rodrigo. Zeke held on with enough force to make the veins in his neck stand out. Lee might only have one arm, but he had the strength of a bull.

“Tell Mr. O’Shea we send our regards.” Nate gestured to the field behind Rodrigo. “I suggest you leave now before our half a man rips your head clean off your body.”

With one last malevolent look at Lee, Rodrigo turned his horse around to leave. “I give you three more days and then you can answer to Mr. O’Shea himself.”

“We look forward to it.” Nate had trouble keeping the polite, stupid expression on his face. He didn’t want Rodrigo to know how much it bothered him to have to deal with such a man, or to know that he had dealt with Elisa daily. Made his skin crawl.

When Rodrigo was just a spot on the horizon, Gideon turned to Nate. “Go now. See that attorney in town then head for the county seat. Lee, you stay here with me. Zeke, go find out what happened to Jake, quietly and without any fuss.”

As they had countless times, the Devils took their orders and executed them without question. The tide had begun to turn and it appeared as though the Devils first business venture would fail.

Nate only hoped they’d all be alive after it was over.

Nate found the attorney’s office easily. It was the nicest house in town, a white clapboard with his shingle hung outside. The property was surrounded by beautiful trees and a perfect picket fence.

Obviously Alvin Potter was successful at the lawyering business. Nate didn’t know what to expect so he had to be prepared for any eventuality. That meant he had to be ready to be friendly, formal or threatening.

Nate dismounted and secured Bonne Chance to the fence. After a deep, calming breath, he ran his hands down his trousers and jacket, smoothing any noticeable wrinkles and removing any debris and dirt that had settled on the fabric. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his lapels and collar. Since he was forever cursed with five o’clock shadow, he had shaved before setting off. His jaw was as slick as any professional attorney.

Nestled deep within his jacket pocket was the copy of the bill of sale that Elisa entrusted to him. He had to keep it safe no matter what the cost.

As Nate stepped through the gate, he heard a small dog barking and a man’s stern voice. He couldn’t quite decipher the words but the tone told him a lot. It told him that the owner of that voice expected things to be done precisely. That was at least a small amount of preparation Nate could carry with him.

The front porch was well-swept and well-kept, indicating a tidy man lived there. He rapped on the door three times and stepped back, his hands in front of him in a gesture of patience—something he was sorely lacking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zeke riding down the street. Nate knew whatever had happened to Jake, Zeke would take care of it. That didn’t make it any easier to ignore his fellow Devil if he needed assistance.

The door swung open and Nate inclined his head to the man who had answered the door. He was a rotund man of middle years with a balding head and half-spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He wore a starched white shirt with a blue vest, a gold watch gleaming from its small pocket. His round belly was covered with pressed blue trousers and shoes so shiny they could double as a mirror.

Nate drank it all in, assessing the best way to speak to Mr. Potter. “Good afternoon, sir.”

Mr. Potter frowned, his eyebrows making a frightening, bushy V on his forehead. “Afternoon, stranger. What business do you have here?”

“My name is Nathaniel Marchand, Mr. Potter. I am in the employ of Mr. Samuel O’Shea to take care of some business with the former Taggert property. I had hoped, sir, that I could have your assistance in locating the bill of sale to prove Mr. O’Shea’s ownership.” Nate kept his voice crisp, businesslike, yet always polite.

“You’re working for O’Shea then?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Mr. Potter’s rheumy brown gaze glanced up and down Nate’s attire several times before he opened the door to allow him access. “I’m in the middle of something so we’ll need to make it quick.”

“Yes, of course, I understand and I apologize for intruding.” Like hell. “I would have requested an appointment, but time is of the essence for Mr. O’Shea. He has asked my associates and me to resolve the matter post-haste.”

“Yes, yes, of course, come in.”

Nate stepped into a perfectly maintained house with gleaming wood furniture and not a speck of dust in sight. Potter ushered him into what appeared to be his office before Nate could get any more information to bring back to the Devils. The office was as neat as the rest of the house. Stacks of paper in regimented order, a bookcase precisely arranged, beautiful Persian carpet and an enormous desk that must have been made from two entire trees.

“Well, you need a copy of the bill of sale for the Taggert ranch then?”

“Yes, sir, that would be extremely helpful.”

Potter eyed him again. “What did you say your name was?”

“Nathaniel Marchand, sir, of D.H. Enterprises.”

Potter’s expression didn’t waver from suspicious. “Now I can show you the bill of sale, but I can’t make a copy of it for you. You’ll have to go to Bellridge, the county seat, for that. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I had planned on traveling there for that very purpose, but I wanted to check in with you first to see if there were any additional papers that might be associated with the sale of the Taggert ranch.” Nate hoped like hell he was making sense because he felt like a fly butting its head against a gas lantern, trying desperately not to get burned.

“Now I can’t show you any other information, Mr. Mar-chand.” When he pronounced the name incorrectly, Nate decided it was intentional. Mr. Potter liked to make people uncomfortable, probably gave him a sense of power.

Mr. Potter rose and went to the cabinet in the corner of the office. “Sit down now, this will take me a minute or two. The sale happened a year ago or so.”

“I understand that, sir. I also understand that the Taggerts have been somewhat, ah, difficult in accepting the sale since it was the unfortunate Mrs. Taggert who sold the ranch.”

“Ah yes, Melissa Taggert, a beautiful woman. Too good for the likes of that mick, Taggert.”

Nate wondered if Mr. O’Shea knew how his attorney referred to Irish people. He doubted it.

After rifling through some papers with his chubby fingers, Potter came up with a piece of paper from deep within the cabinet.

“Here it is. Now as I said you may look at it, but you’ll need to go to Bellridge if you want an official copy. We did give one to the family, but that wild girl is bound to have lost it. She’s headed for eternal damnation, mark my words, doesn’t listen to anything folks say. Wearing trousers and working and living all day long with men. Ruined for any kind of marriage and now this difficult situation with Mr. O’Shea.” He tut-tutted. “That girl is dancing with the devil, she is.”

Nate’s hands fisted in his lap, but he didn’t really care if Potter could see them or not. The fact that the man talked about Elisa as if she was a wild whore made the hackles on Nate’s neck snap to attention. He knew firsthand that Elisa had been as pure as any virgin until Nate had made her otherwise, which still pricked his conscience.

Potter came back with a paper and eased himself into a beautiful leather chair behind the enormous desk. He read through the document two times while Nate sat there pretending to be patient, pretending not to want to punch the shit out of Potter.

Finally after what seemed like an hour, Potter held the single piece of paper out for Nate’s inspection. “This is the correct document. You may read it.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Potter. I do appreciate your assistance immensely.” While his stomach threatened to return his breakfast, Nate concentrated on reading the bill of sale in his hand. He scanned the contents and, unsurprising, the paper matched that which Elisa had given him. The signature was not a woman’s.

What Nate needed was to find any other documentation from the Taggert ranch that might have Melissa’s signature on it to compare it to the bill of sale. If he didn’t find anything in the hall of records in Bellridge, he might just have to ask Jake to do a little midnight visit.

With a smile that made his face hurt, Nate handed the paper back. “Thank you so much, Mr. Potter. Again I apologize for the intrusion. I just wanted to make sure I had the correct information.”

“You’re quite welcome there, Mr. Mar-chand. What is it that you and your associates, what was the name?”

“D.H. Enterprises.”

“What is it that you do for Mr. O’Shea?”

Nate stood to leave. “Anything he needs us to.” With one last nauseating thank you, he escaped Mr. Potter’s office and house. Bonne Chance waited at the fence, ready for the long ride to Bellridge.

His mind whirled with the information he’d received. If anything, the visit with Potter confirmed that something was definitely wrong with the sale of the Taggert ranch. Generally wives were not allowed to sell property without their husband’s signature. It’s possible that Sean Taggert was presumed dead, killed during the war, when she sold the ranch. It was also possible that the laws in Texas were different. However, Nate knew something was wrong. He intended to uncover the truth and not just for Elisa, for himself. The Devils would make sure that the truth was served along with the justice.

Chapter Nine

Zeke rode down the main street in Grayton as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He smiled, nodded and tipped his hat, while inside all he could think about was where was Jake? He thought about going to the general store since that’s where Jake had been headed, however he also remembered Nate’s warning about the owner of the store being a bit squirrelly.

If anything happened, it probably happened at the store or a saloon, the two places Jake had said he planned to visit. Zeke decided to start at the saloon, and it wasn’t just because he needed a shot of whiskey, which he did. It was mainly because when men had been drinking, they were more likely to be talkative. Even some of the serving girls in the saloon were good sources of information. Zeke had a lot of practice listening.

Folks tended to fill in the silence since Zeke didn’t talk very much, and when they filled in the silence, they filled in the details. There were two saloons in town. Not surprising. Although Grayton was one step above tiny, certainly with the number of cattle ranches in the area, there were a lot of cowboys who needed someplace to drink, let loose and have fun.

He chose the nastier of the saloons because Jake would have. He felt more comfortable amongst outlaws and thieves since he was a thief. A good one, but still a thief. As Zeke secured his horse to the hitching post, he heard the tinkling of glasses and some low conversation inside. The Blue Bonnet saloon across the street had no horses in front. This one, the Stone’s Throw, had at least half a dozen. Definitely the better choice.

Zeke walked in and made a beeline for the bar. The air smelled of cheap whiskey, cigars and sweat.

The huge bartender had to be at least six and a half feet tall with shoulders and arms that had seen plenty of hard work. He had bushy hair and mustache and assessing blue eyes.

“Afternoon,” Zeke said as he propped an elbow on the scarred wooden bar. “It’s been a helluva day. I needed to wet my whistle and have myself some good booze.”

“Then you’re in the wrong place.” The bartender guffawed at his own funny.

Zeke smiled. “I reckon that’s true. How about you just give me a shot of whatever you’ve got? I ain’t picky.” He slapped down four bits.

The bartender poured him a shot in a questionably clean glass. Good thing Nate wasn’t here, he probably wouldn’t be able to drink from it. Nate was mighty particular about being clean. Zeke had seen Nate in front of the fancy white house and figured he was looking into the business with the Taggerts.

Gideon didn’t give Zeke all the details, but he knew if anyone could find the truth, it was Nate.

The bartender decided to be chatty. “Just passing through?”

“Nah, just have a job hereabouts for Mr. O’Shea.”

The bartender’s eyebrows went up. “And you’re drinking in here?”

Zeke grinned tightly. “I didn’t say I worked for him. I said I had a job for him.”

“Name’s Clem,” the bartender offered.

“Zeke.”

They shook hands and Zeke knew he’d been absolutely correct about the bartender’s strength. The man was enormous with a bone-crushing grip.

“I’m looking for someone.”

The bartender gestured to the two women standing at the end of the bar, scantily clad, who were talking together. They wore clownish pancake makeup with bodies to keep a man occupied for hours, and no doubt Zeke would enjoy every second with them. Dammit. Right now his first concern was finding Jake.

Zeke shook his head. “Nah, I’m looking for my partner. Redheaded fella, tall, kinda thin, wears a flat-brimmed black hat.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.” Clem frowned. “I just got here. Sarah here was tending bar around noontime. She might have seen your partner.”

“Thank you kindly.” Zeke shot the whiskey down his throat. The slow burn took the edge off the anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He set the glass down and sauntered over to the two women.

“Which one of you is Sarah?”

The blonde with frizzy corkscrew curls sticking out every which way and the best pair of tits he’d seen in years, frowned at him. “That’s not the way a true southern gentleman greets a lady. If you were a gentleman, you’d greet me properly.”

The sweet sound of a woman with a Georgia drawl caressed his ears. This time Zeke’s smile was genuine.

“Why, I beg your pardon, ma’am. Good afternoon, ladies.” He took off his hat and did a short bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Zeke Blackwood. How are you this afternoon?”

The dark-haired one tittered like an idiot and wandered away. The blonde one, he assumed was Sarah, sketched a small curtsey.

“Good afternoon to you, Mr. Blackwood. The pleasure is all mine.”

“What’s a Georgia peach like you doing in Texas?”

Shadows passed through her eyes. “I’d venture to guess the same as you.”

Zeke understood. The war had been hard on everyone. They all did what they had to do in order to survive.

“Clem tells me”—he jerked his thumb toward the bartender—“that you were tending bar around dinner. I’m looking for my partner. His name is Jake. He’s a tall redhead with an easy smile.”

Sarah grinned. “I remember him. Sweet, charming. Nearly made this old whore blush.”

“That’s him.” He could practically taste the information.

“He came after dinner at Arnie’s and had a couple of whiskeys. We talked for a bit. He told me he had to go buy some supplies.”

Zeke sensed there was more to Sarah’s story. “Where is he?” It wasn’t his way to be anything but blunt particularly when a friend’s life could be in danger.

“I hear tell there’s an Army captain in town, a Yankee.”

Zeke’s gut rolled at the thought of Jake in Nessman’s hands. They’d been there and lived, but he didn’t know if they’d survive again. Especially since Jake was alone.

“Do tell.” Zeke slid a dollar bill under his hand on the bar to her.

She eyed it. “Word is that Marvin caught your friend stealing at the store and that Yankee captain put him in the jail. Said that he was part of a gang that had been bamboozling folks, possibly rustling.” Her blue gaze probed his. “You part of that gang?”

Zeke swallowed the howl that threatened to escape. “There is no gang.” He contemplated how much to tell Sarah. Since she was a fellow ex-Georgia resident, he felt he could trust her.

“That Yankee has been dogging us for months. He’s looking, inventing reasons to put us behind bars. We’re the only prisoners who escaped his camp during the war. He’d do anything to get us back under his thumb.” Zeke shook with rage even thinking about Nessman.

Sarah nodded. “I was thinking it was something like that. I saw him down at Arnie’s yesterday, gave me the creepy crawlies. You’ll find your friend in the jail down the street. If you’d like, I can introduce you to Sheriff Turner. He’s, ah, a friend.”

“That would be much appreciated, Miss Sarah.”

She inclined her head. “My pleasure, Mr. Blackwood.”

Within ten minutes, Zeke and Sarah stood outside the stone jail. She pulled at the bodice that cupped her generous tits, then gave him a raised brow for looking. Zeke held up his hands.

“Hey I’m just appreciating the view.”

“Hmph,” she snorted. “Now, Jimmy is getting a bit long in the tooth but he’s still up for a little flirting now and then. You let me get him distracted and then you can get your friend out.”

As she opened the door, Zeke put his hand on her arm. “Why are you doing this?”

Her guarded expression became fierce. “I’m sick and damn tired of people like that captain taking advantage of folks just because they fought on the losing side of the war. That Yankee is an example of men who should never be given a sword to wield. Besides, your friend was cute.”

Zeke didn’t know whether to be appreciative of the support or stung by the compliment to Jake. Well, she hadn’t mentioned him. He knew his blond hair and brown eyes were kind of boring, but he thought he’d at least be considered passably good-looking.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Thank you, Sarah.”

“Oh don’t worry, cowboy, when I need you, I’ll let you know.”

When they stepped in, Sarah was once again the sexy kitten that he’d seen at the saloon. The sheriff rose, knocking his chair back. He stood about Zeke’s height, thin as a rail with steel gray hair and beard. The tin star gleamed on his blue shirt.

“Miss Sarah!”

“Well, hello there, Jimmy Turner. You haven’t stopped in lately. I’ve missed you.” She sashayed over and Zeke moved back to enjoy the show.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Blackwood. He’s come to pick up your prisoner. Apparently some sort of mix-up with Marvin and the store. I just met Mr. Blackwood at the door while I was on my way in to see you.” She smiled widely.

“Mix-up? There was a mix-up?” The poor sheriff appeared completely confused. He peered at Zeke, who took his hat off and did his best to look trustworthy.

“Afternoon, Sheriff.”

“What kind of mix-up was it?”

Sarah flapped her right hand in the air. “Oh, you know Marvin. He’s always looking for an excuse to poke fun at someone or tell some gossip.” She sat on the edge of the desk and leaned forward.

The sheriff was treated to a clear view of the cleavage that nearly spilled from her bodice.

“When are you going to come over and see me?”

While the sheriff’s eyes were glued to her chest, she picked up the keys from the desk and held them out behind her. Zeke gratefully took them and walked to the back, hoping he didn’t appear too anxious.

“Well, you know Sally doesn’t like me going to the saloon, especially if I go to play poker. She likes her pin money.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jimmy. I surely have been missing you.”

Zeke smothered a chuckle as he stepped into the back of the jail where the cells were located. There were four of them. One held a snoring, dirty man on a cot. The other, a grinning Jake who clutched the bars.

“About time one of you got here.”

“We had a piece of luck running into Miss Sarah at the saloon. If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be here with the key in my hand.”

“Hurry up then.”

“Hold your water, Sheridan. I’m coming.” Zeke unlocked the cell and Jake darted out.

“Thank God. Thank God.”

Zeke politely ignored the trembling in his friend’s hands. He understood more than most people would how hard it was for any of them to be in a cell, to be behind bars.

“Let’s get going before the sheriff gets his face out of her tits.”

Jake snickered as they walked out. Sarah held out her hand and Zeke returned the keys to her palm.

“Thank you kindly, Sheriff. Hope you have a wonderful evening,” Zeke called out.

When the door closed behind them, Zeke held his breath, waiting for the lawman to shout. All he heard was the tinkling of Sarah’s laughter.

“Let’s get you the hell out of town.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Jake stretched and smiled broadly.

They returned to the saloon at a brisk pace. “Where’s your horse?”

“I heard the sheriff tell that bastard Nessman that he put it up at the livery.” Jake curled his lip in anger.

“Take my horse and head back to camp. I’ll get yours. No need for you to be in town one second longer than necessary.”

Jake’s blue gaze locked with Zeke’s. “I don’t know how to tell you how much…I mean, I didn’t know…”

Zeke put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Once a Devil, always a Devil. Now get moving before anyone sees you. That red hair of yours is like a goddamn bonfire.”

Jake grinned. “I can’t help it. My daddy liked redheads.” He hopped on the horse and did his best to hurry down the street without actually galloping.

Zeke made sure Jake was out of sight and on his way back to safety before heading down to the livery to get Jake’s horse. Later on, Zeke would have to come back and give Sarah a proper thank you.

Nate rode as fast as he could push Bonne Chance. He was a good horse, but he did have limits. Nate didn’t feel comfortable leaving things the way they were in Grayton. Jake unaccounted for, Gideon recovering from a gunshot wound—a minor one but still a gunshot wound—and Elisa putting her entire future in Nate’s hands.

Not a neat and tidy situation. All of it made Nate’s skin itch. He wanted to put some things in order, so many things were as yet unfinished and confusing. He hoped that his trip to Bellridge would be just the thing to get everything back to where it needed to be.

By the time he made it to the city, it was past six o’clock in the evening. No hall of records would be open at that time of day. Even if it was closed, Nate took the time to locate the hall of records, which happened to be in the same building with the county courthouse. It was near the center of town, with plenty of businesses surrounding it.

Nate knew he’d have to bunk down and wait for the morning. He decided to spend a little money and get a room at the hotel he found near the hall of records. After paying a dollar for a room and bath for the night, Nate headed for a drink in a saloon, anything to calm his nerves, to try to get rid of the jittery feeling that wouldn’t leave him.

When he returned to the hotel room, he lay in bed staring at a stain on the ceiling. For a reason that baffled him, he couldn’t stop thinking about Elisa and the last time they’d been together. The way she’d ridden him had brought him intense pleasure. It was the same act he’d done with various women, but it felt different. Very different.

Nate was afraid he was falling in love with her. After he admitted that to himself, panic sank its claws into him.

What would he do if he fell completely in love with her? The Devils hadn’t planned on staying in Grayton very long. Getting involved with Elisa certainly complicated things.

Nate didn’t like complicated because it was unpredictable, therefore out of his control.

It seemed as though he’d just been able to fall asleep when the sun streamed through the window, calling him to wake up. Nate took extra care to make sure all of his clothing was neat and clean. He’d brought his best shirt and trousers, best of course being a relative word, and brushed his jacket clean.

Although it was breakfast time, he didn’t think he’d be able to eat anything. As he left the hotel room with his saddlebags in hand, he reconsidered. He knew he’d have to have something in his stomach or risk it yowling at an inopportune moment. His mission was to appear as a successful business man. A successful businessman should not have a growling stomach.