The Bride's Prerogative (66 page)

“Papa wasn’t a bad man.”

“No. No, he wasn’t.” Libby set her jaw and nodded firmly. “He came here to get you away from those evil men. He loved you very much.”

“Our men at the ranch will want to see him.”

“We’ll pass by your home on the way to town. We can send a rider ahead to tell them. If they want, they can accompany the … the body to the livery stable.”

“Good. I think they’d want to help get him ready.” Isabel pressed her lips together. As dry as she felt, a new flood of tears sheeted down her cheeks.

Libby foraged in her pockets but came up empty.

“Will this help?”

At Hiram’s soft inquiry, Libby turned. He stood beside the wagon offering a folded bandanna. She took it and held out the faded, soft square to Isabel.

“Th-thank you.”

“The doctor’s coming back,” Hiram said.

Isabel sat up slowly. Libby reached to help her inch over to the tailgate. Trudy hovered on the other side and reached to help. Isabel let her feet hang over the edge of the wagon.

The physician had almost reached them when Rose ran out from a knot of people near the house, carrying her parasol.

“Doctor, my ears are still ringing from all that shooting.”

Kincaid paused and eyed her pensively. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Caplinger. It will pass after a time.”

Trudy rolled her eyes skyward and called, “Rose, Dr. Kincaid needs to tend to Miss Fennel.”

“But I can barely hear you.” Rose’s face crumpled up. “Doctor, you don’t think it could be permanent, do you?”

Kincaid shook his head. “I doubt it, ma’am. You weren’t close to the gunfire. I expect you’ll be fine by evening, if not before.” He walked the last few yards to the wagon.

“I told her not to come,” Trudy muttered. “But no, she heard about the posse and insisted on riding along.”

Rose stood for a moment with her mouth pursed, but when the doctor paid her no more attention, she swung about and stalked back to the shade with the fringe on her shawl fluttering.

The doctor stood facing Isabel. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Miss Fennel. I couldn’t see that you had any wounds.”

“No. My wrist aches, but I think that’s the only thing wrong.” She shuddered, and Libby patted her shoulder again. So very much was wrong, after all.

“Let me see.” Kincaid took her left hand gently.

Isabel winced. “It’s quite tender. That Button man twisted it.”

“I’m sorry. May I unfasten this cuff?”

Inexplicably, she found herself blushing. “I can do it.” She fumbled with the button and extended her arm again.

He bent over her hand and pushed the sleeve up a few inches. “Mmm. I see the redness. A little swelling.” He probed the wrist joint. “Turn your palm up, please. Uh-huh. Does that hurt?”

“No more than before.”

“And when you make a fist?”

She tried it. “Yes, that hurts.”

He felt the joint again. “I don’t think anything is broken, but you should take it easy for a few days. It might help to wrap your wrist to support it for a day or two. Would you like me to bandage it for you?”

“No, thank you. I’m sure it will heal.” She rubbed the sorest spot with her fingertips. “Doctor …”

“Yes?” Kincaid looked gravely into her eyes. “Did you examine my father’s body?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Could you please tell me … anything?”

Kincaid cleared his throat. “He died swiftly. One fatal wound to his heart.”

She nodded. “He didn’t suffer, then?”

“I think not. It was nearly instantaneous for both of them.”

“Both—” Isabel glanced at Libby then back to the doctor. “You mean my uncle, don’t you?”

He nodded. “The sheriff was right behind your father. As near as we can tell, Smith pulled the trigger as he opened the door, and your father returned fire. It was the last act for both of them.”

“I heard someone say the rest of his men got away.”

“Three were shot down. The others—three more, we think—escaped.”

Isabel nodded, mentally counting the men she’d seen hulking about the ranch. “Which ones?”

“One man was killed by a shot through the window. I believe he’s the one who brought you outside when your father insisted on seeing you.”

Kincaid avoided looking directly at her as he spoke. Isabel wondered if he’d taken part in the shootout, but she didn’t ask. He was one of the best marksmen in town. Perhaps she would ask Libby sometime. Not now. It might be best if she didn’t know who fired the fatal bullets.

“The other dead men are a large, heavy man with a beard and a red headed man.”

“He was in the house when Papa and the others came. They were playing poker—Uncle Kenton, Red, and Buck—while Button kept watch at the window. I only saw the others from a distance.”

“The one called Buck must have gotten away.”

“Yes.” Isabel gazed toward the ranch house and the mountains beyond.

“I think you should rest some more, ma’am,” Kincaid said. “Is there anyone at home who can stay with you tonight?”

“No, I …”

“She can stay with me,” Libby said. “Isabel stayed at my home last night, and I’d be delighted to have her again. We can stop briefly at her father’s ranch on the way to town, and she can pick up a few things.”

Isabel caught her breath. Did she want to do that? She certainly didn’t want to stay alone at the ranch. She exhaled in a sigh. “Thank you. I believe I’d like that if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” Libby squeezed her shoulders gently. “You may stay as long as you like.”

“Poor Papa.” Isabel pushed back a loose wisp of her hair. “I wasn’t there to fix his breakfast this morning.”

CHAPTER 38

T
he motley procession started for Fergus. The Harpers’ wagon pulled out first, loaded with townspeople. Libby sat in the back of Josiah Runnels’s wagon with Isabel and the Bentons. They’d persuaded Isabel to let Arthur Tinen Jr. transport her father’s body in the wagon behind them. Libby was glad she didn’t have to sit close to the corpse, but she would have if Isabel had insisted. Hiram and Trudy rode their horses alongside them. Ethan rode at the head of the procession with some of the other men. The wagon bearing Kenton and his dead ranch hands followed several yards behind.

Within a mile of the Fennel ranch, several riders galloped toward them. Cyrus’s men paused to speak to the sheriff then rode on back and clustered their horses around the wagon in which Isabel rode.

The oldest of the cowboys lifted his hat and eyed her sorrowfully. “Is it true, Miss Isabel? Is your father dead?”

“Yes Brady. I’m having him laid out at the livery in town, where folks can stop in and see him before the funeral. I’ll be stopping at home for a minute to pack a few things. I’m staying in town tonight with Mrs. Adams.”

Brady touched the brim of his hat. “All right, miss. If you need anything, you let us know. The boys and I will go into town and make sure they tend to your papa right.”

“Thank you.”

Brady turned his horse and trotted back to the wagon behind them. He and the cowboys gazed into the bed then fell in behind.

At the lane to the Fennel ranch, Josiah turned in. His father and Arthur continued on, driving their grim burdens toward Fergus.

Ethan called to the freighter, “We’ll be just a few minutes, Oscar. Head for the livery, and I’ll be along before you get there.”

Most of the townspeople went on, but Ethan and the Dooleys followed Josiah’s wagon to the Fennel house.

Apphia Benton slid toward the back of the wagon. “My dear, I can go in with you and help you gather your things.”

“Thank you.” Isabel climbed down.

The pastor got out of the wagon, too. Libby stayed put and watched the three go into the house. Ethan and the Dooleys dismounted and walked their horses over close to the wagon.

Ethan said, “We thought maybe we’d ought to have a little discussion while Miss Isabel’s inside.”

“What about?” Libby asked.

“Her uncle Kenton.”

“What about him?”

Ethan pushed his hat back and looked around at them. “Hiram, Trudy …” He glanced toward the wagon. “You know about this, too, Miz Adams.”

Libby gathered her skirts and hopped to the ground. Josiah had climbed from the wagon seat and was checking his team’s harness. Libby glanced at him and walked a few steps away with the others.

Ethan scratched his jaw. “The way I see it, we four are the only ones besides Isabel who know about that metal box her daddy buried behind the barn.”

“Metal box?” Libby looked quickly from one face to another. “He buried a box?”

Trudy shrugged. “You knew he buried
something
. Isabel told you.”

“Yes, of course, but I didn’t realize you’d learned what it was.”

“We went and dug it up this morning when Cyrus got the note and tore off,” Trudy said. “When we got to his ranch, he wasn’t here, so we decided to settle the question of what he’d buried.”

“And you uncovered a can?” Libby asked.

Ethan nodded. “A tin like crackers and things come in. There’s a pouch of coins in it and a wanted poster showing Kenton Smith and Mary Fennel—under different names.”

Libby opened her mouth then closed it. Her brain whirled as she tried to make sense of that.

Trudy squeezed her arm. “Isabel’s confided in you more than anyone else in town. You’re probably her best friend right now. This morning we three rode out and met Cyrus and told him we’d dug up his secret. And he told us some shocking bits of family history.”

“Isabel’s not his daughter,” Libby said with sudden certainty.

They all stared at her.

“How did you know that?” Trudy asked.

Libby puffed out a breath. “Something happened many years ago—it’s not important what—but Mary Fennel said something to me I’ve never forgotten. She said Cyrus wanted a child of his own.”

“That fits.” Ethan gritted his teeth and looked toward the ranch house.

Hiram reached down and plucked a grass stem and stuck the end in his mouth.

“So do we all agree that it wouldn’t do Isabel any good to know that?” Trudy asked. “Cyrus said Kenton didn’t know she was his daughter.”

“And Isabel certainly didn’t know,” Libby said. “It explains a lot of things, though. Why Cyrus has acted so strangely, and why he let Kenton stay on his land.”

“Kenton was blackmailing him,” Ethan said. “When he was arrested for robbery and put in prison, Mary took off with Cyrus—and the loot they’d collected from Kenton’s robberies. Sounds like she may have helped him in some of those crimes. When Kenton was released, he tracked them out here. He wanted his share, and Cyrus didn’t have it. That’s why Kenton grabbed Isabel—to put pressure on Cyrus.”

Libby’s heart ached at the sordid sadness of it. “You mean … they weren’t legally married.”

Trudy winced and nodded.

“I never would have guessed Mary could take part in anything like that.”

“Well, we’ve only Cy’s word and an old wanted poster,” Ethan said. “But why would he lie about something like that?”

Trudy straightened her shoulders. “Since Kenton and Cyrus are both dead, why not let this secret die, too? Why should we give Isabel more reason to grieve?”

Hiram nodded. He arched his eyebrows at Ethan.

“But if they were criminals …” Ethan looked around at his friends.

Trudy scowled at him. “All the criminals are dead, Ethan, except for the three cowpokes that escaped this morning. And we don’t know that they did anything but follow their boss’s orders.”

Ethan sucked air in between his teeth. “I guess. But I’m supposed to uphold the law.”

“And so you do, sweetheart.” Trudy slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “It’s a shame about Cyrus, but I suspect the other men who were killed have a lot of dark deeds in their past.”

“One of the others is hurting, thanks to you,” Hiram said.

Ethan eyed him testily. “We should have gone after them.”

“No,” Libby said. “The most important thing was finding Isabel. By the time we knew she was safe, those cowpokes were halfway to Nampa.”

“I expect you’re right.” Ethan sighed. “All right. I’ll go along with you, though I’m not sure it’s the best thing to do. But I’m telegraphing the authorities in Boise and Nampa when we get back to town.”

“Not a bad idea,” Hiram said.

“Libby, you okay with that?” Trudy looked to her friend with arched brows.

Libby spread her hands. “At this point, I’ll do anything that will help Isabel, so long as we don’t have to lie to her. She’ll be more at peace burying Cyrus if she goes on believing he’s her father.”

Trudy gazed up into Ethan’s face. “I feel the same way. At least … she’d be
less
at peace if she knew who her real papa was.”

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “All right.”

Hiram slapped him on the back. “There you go.”

Trudy leaned close to her brother’s face and said sternly, “But this is something none of us four can ever tell anyone, and we’d do best not even to talk about it amongst ourselves ever again. As far as we know, well … we don’t. That is, we don’t know anything.”

“Agreed,” Libby said quickly.

The door to the house opened, and Pastor Benton emerged carrying a valise.

“The ladies will be right out. Miss Fennel wanted to tend to a few things in the kitchen.”

“Let me take that bag.” Ethan took the valise and hefted it into Josiah’s wagon.

As Libby turned to follow, she darted a glance at Hiram. Despite the day’s grim events, he gave the appearance of a man at peace. He met her gaze, and just before he turned toward the hitching rail, she could have sworn he winked at her.