The Last Renegade (21 page)

“I don’t mind if she stays,” said Kellen. “She would probably like to have her mind set at ease.”

“Suit yourself,” Sugar said carelessly. He went to the bathing room first and stood on the threshold, glancing around. Shrugging, he went to the large wardrobe and opened the doors slowly.

Kellen observed how the deputy braced himself as if he expected Miss Ransom to leap out at him. Kellen studiously avoided looking at Raine. “You’ll want to look under the bed.”

Sugar did eventually, but to demonstrate that he did not appreciate the suggestion, he pointed to the two trunks and asked to see inside.

It was an absurd request because neither trunk was big enough to hide Emily Ransom. Rabbit could have squeezed into one, his brother into the other, but both wiry little boys could not have managed to make a home in one of them at the same time.

At Kellen’s nod, Sugar lifted the lid on the trunk at the foot of the bed. It was empty. The other trunk was positioned near the table and chair in such a way that it was obvious Kellen had been using it as a footrest. Sugar looked inside.

From where she stood, Raine had a glimpse of one of the hotel’s colorful quilts. It was an extra one—probably one he requested and that Sue or Walt had given to him from the linen closet.

Sugar brushed off his hands as he stood after examining under the bed. “She’s not here.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kellen said gravely.

“Couldn’t take you at your word,” Sugar told him. “Not when I don’t know you from Adam.” He glanced at Raine. “That’s just an expression, Mrs. Berry. I wasn’t talking about your Adam.”

“I understood that.”

“Good.” Sugar turned his attention to the writing utensils and paper on the table. Most of the paper appeared to be blank, but several sheets had been scrawled upon. He reached for one.

“That’s private,” Kellen said before Sugar’s fingers had closed over it. “My work.”

“I heard you were some kind of reporter for a New York paper.”

Raine spoke up. “The
New York World
.”

Sugar’s thick fingertips grazed the table as he drew his hand back to his side. “I suppose you want me to buy the paper before I read your story.”

“That’s right,” said Kellen.

“Fair enough. You’ve been here all day?”

“Yes. Working.”

“Did you hear anything down the hall?”

“Nothing that I haven’t heard every other morning.”

“Would you know Emily’s voice?”

“I would know her giggle.”

Raine said, “George Weyman is gone.”

“Weyman,” Kellen repeated. “The whiskey drummer?”

“That’s right. He’s cleaned out his room.”

“Do you think Emily’s eloped with him?”

The deputy shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “That’s a possibility. Trouble is, Mrs. Ransom says that Emily didn’t take anything with her except the clothes on her back. Can’t see that anything’s missing. No note either. Strange that she wouldn’t leave some kind of explanation behind. Keep her ma and pa from worrying.”

Raine’s stomach clenched, and she hugged herself. “Perhaps she was afraid the note would be found while she could still be stopped.”

Dan Sugar continued to rock on his feet. “Could be. I guess the same might explain why she didn’t take any clothes with her.”

Kellen asked, “If she’s gone with Weyman, how did they go?”

“Train most likely,” said Sugar. “I have to talk to Collins.”

Kellen considered that. He was not holding out for a happy ending. “Are you looking for help to start a search?”

“Could be. You volunteering?”

“Yes.”

Dan Sugar’s eyes narrowed to the point he was only squinting out of them. “Now that wouldn’t be because you want to
write a story about it for your paper, would it? That doesn’t set right with me. Won’t set right with other folks.”

“I understand. No reporting.”

“All right. You’ll need a horse. Men will be gathering at the livery. After I talk to Collins, I’ll see you there.”

Raine was grateful that her knees waited for the deputy’s departure before they began to wobble. She took the few steps necessary to reach the trunk at the foot of the bed and sat down hard.

“Are you going to be all right?” asked Kellen.

She nodded. “I just need a…” She did not finish the sentence. She didn’t know what she needed. “Emily and my sister were close. Things that Ellen couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me, she told Emily. They were confidants and good for each other. Ellen could be so serious, and Emily…well, even on short acquaintance, you know that Emily was not.”

Kellen hunkered in front of Raine. He almost took her hands in his and then thought better of it. “Look at me,” he said. She did. “Do you think Emily’s disappearance has something to do with Ellen and the trial? Or as distressing as this is, is this just about Emily?”

“I don’t know. I can’t know that until we find her.”

“Tell me about Daniel Sugar. Do you trust him? Can I?”

“Not if this has anything to do with the Burdicks. He’s their man. You have to remember that. He’ll do right by Emily as long as he doesn’t get a whiff of the Burdicks. If that happens, he’ll point in any direction except theirs.”

“That’s good to know.” He started to rise.

Raine reached out impulsively and caught his fingers. “Be careful.”

By the time Deputy Sugar arrived at the livery, Kellen and the other search volunteers had chosen and saddled their mounts and were waiting for their instructions. They listened attentively to Sugar as he reported on his conversation with Mr. Collins. The station agent had confirmed that neither Emily nor Mr. Weyman could have left town by rail. As all the horses,
wagons, and surreys were accounted for, it seemed possible there might be a foot trail, and therein lay the hope of catching up with the missing pair. Sugar was still deliberating the best way to use his volunteers when Matthew Sharp rode into town to report that rustlers had made off with two of his mares. Sugar grasped it was a lead worth following and quickly divided the men into two search parties that would fan out from the Sharp farm.

Kellen elected to stay with the deputy. The search party rode out to the Sharp place and followed the trail until the signs disappeared. At that point, they spilt into four groups, agreed on shot signals in the event they found something, and moved out.

The route that Kellen, the deputy, Walt, and Jem Davis followed took them along the river and into the hills. Kellen had taken a similar path his first day out, but this one was less rugged and therefore more likely to be used by two people who had only partially lost their minds.

Kellen was more concerned they had lost their lives.

Raine sat at a table in the dining room with Mrs. Sterling and Sue. The only hotel guest in residence at the moment was John Paul Jones, and Raine had offered to serve the surveyor dinner in his room because she could not bear an outsider in the dining room this evening. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley had boarded the No. 348 train early in the afternoon. Mr. Petit and Mr. Reasoner had left with Mr. Petit’s photographic equipment soon after they spoke to Deputy Sugar and still had not returned. None of the regulars showed up for dinner. Most of them were taking part in the search, and those who weren’t probably had as little appetite as Raine.

She pushed her spoon through Mrs. Sterling’s meaty stew but didn’t lift a bite to her mouth. The cornbread on her side plate was still untouched. From time to time, she sipped her coffee.

Sue Hage ignored her bowl of stew in favor of chewing on the end of one of her long, yellow braids. Periodically, Mrs.
Sterling would pull it away from Sue’s mouth, but it always found its way back, usually within minutes.

“I don’t understand why we don’t know anything yet,” Mrs. Sterling said. It was not the first time she had said it, and when no one answered, she let it go. “Do you think I should take some stew down to the Ransoms? Sarah might like to have something extra on hand.”

Sue stared at her bowl. “Do you think the Ransoms will be any hungrier than we are?”

Mrs. Sterling sighed. “No, but I have to do something. Waiting is always the worst. I told Benton that, and he said he understood, but he didn’t. Not really. Men don’t. The only time they wait on a woman is when she’s in labor, and as soon as it’s over, they puff up, pat her and the baby on the head, and disappear. Then she’s waiting again.”

“I don’t think I want to get married,” Sue said glumly. “I like Charlie well enough, I suppose, but what if it’s not love? There has to be powerful love there if I’m going to do all that waiting.”

“Charlie’s not a lawman,” Raine said. “He’s a ranch hand.”

Sue took the braid from between her lips without being asked. “That’s a good point. I bet he wouldn’t keep me waiting long.”

Raine and Mrs. Sterling exchanged amused glances before they were reminded of the gravity of the situation. Their eyes fell away and they continued to spoon through their food.

Sue slouched in her chair. “I didn’t think Emily was all that sweet on Mr. Weyman.”

Raine’s eyes darted in Sue’s direction. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, she was real nice to him because he was a regular guest, and sometimes he gave her some coin for just being a pleasure to talk to, but she told me he was a practice piece.”

“A practice piece?” asked Raine.

Sue nodded. “I played them to get better at the piano. I suppose you could say that Emily played men like that. Like she was practicing for her special man.”

Mrs. Sterling whistled softly. “Well, that’s something I never heard before.”

Raine laid her hand on Sue’s forearm. “So you don’t really think she’s run away with Mr. Weyman?”

Uncomfortable, Sue released a long breath and shook her head slowly. “No, ma’am. Now if Mr. Coltrane had shown some interest in her, I think she would have saddled the horse and yelled giddyup.”

Raine and Mrs. Sterling stared at her.

Sue Hage dropped her braid and promptly burst into tears.

It took some hand-holding, soft entreaties, and the better part of a quarter of an hour before Raine and Mrs. Sterling were able to bring Sue back from great, wrenching sobs to tiny, hiccupping ones. Raine offered to escort Sue home, but she wanted to stay, certain she’d know more quickly what happened than if she waited with her family.

“My mother is going to fret about me working here,” Sue said, wiping her reddened nose with a handkerchief. “Father will want to forbid it, but we need the money so he won’t. And please don’t say anything about us needing money. My parents would be ashamed that I told.”

“We won’t speak of it,” Raine assured her.

“Not a word,” said Mrs. Sterling. “Your parents are fine folk on hard times. It was Mother Nature that did them in. The drought. The blizzard. It’s a wonder you all survived when the cattle didn’t.”

“My father doesn’t like putting up fence for the Burdicks, but there’s no other work.”

Raine nodded. “I know. He made a hard choice for his family. It’s all right. We all understand how that is.”

Mrs. Sterling’s chair scraped the floor as she pushed back from the table. “I’m going to make a pot of tea just the way Mr. Reasoner likes it. He sets store by it like it has some kind of healing powers. Why don’t we just see if there’s some—”

Mrs. Sterling was halfway to her feet when she stopped. Her head jerked up, and she cocked an ear toward the windows. The other two women were immediately alert.

“What is it?” Raine whispered. “What do you hear?”

“They’re coming.” She stood and went straight to the windows. “Benton led enough search parties when he was marshal
that I know the sound of one coming back.” Raine and Sue crowded around her. “Do you hear?”

They all strained to find the same sound that Mrs. Sterling heard. Raine felt it as a vibration first, running through the floorboards of the Pennyroyal. Sue caught the deep bass notes of faraway voices.

They hurried to the front porch and stood three across on the lip of the uppermost step. A cold wind fluttered their gowns and raised gooseflesh on their arms and legs, but it did not budge them.

The search party that turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare was eighteen strong. They rode as a disciplined unit, six across, three deep. The troop moved slowly, no one breaking rank, making it impossible for the women to see the lone horse trailing behind until the men were within twenty yards of the hotel.

Raine saw it first. She found Mrs. Sterling’s hand and clutched it. Mrs. Sterling put her free arm around Sue’s shoulders.

The horse was not without a rider, but the rider was slung over the saddle, not sitting up in it. A blanket wrapped the body. It was large enough to cover everything but the wind-whipped double row of white lace flouncing attached to a deep purple flannel hem.

The women held each other up. None of them spoke. None of them could. The party approached and stopped in front of the Pennyroyal.

Deputy Sugar lifted his hat a fraction and gave them a nod. “Could use your help before we take her to her ma.”

Raine stared at him. Her worst fears realized, she couldn’t draw a breath. Beside her, she felt Mrs. Sterling begin to tremble. Sue could not stifle a deep, wrenching sob. Raine was surprised to hear herself say, “Of course. Bring her in through the saloon. We’ll wash and dress her properly.”

At Sugar’s signal, Jem and Jake Davis dismounted and went to the rear to lead the mare carrying Emily’s body forward. They unstrapped her from the saddle and eased her off. Jem carried her in his arms. He was dry-eyed now, but Raine saw
evidence in clustered upper lashes and red-rimmed lower ones that he had been weeping.

Raine knew she spoke, but it was as if she were standing outside herself, disconnected from her own voice, confronting this horror as a distant observer. “Put her on a table close to the bar, then go. We’ll take care of her.”

Dan Sugar disbanded the search party, but no one left. Some of the men dismounted and stretched their legs. They didn’t allow their horses to break formation. Before Raine slipped into the saloon, she noticed that Mr. Petit and Mr. Reasoner had somehow become members of the party.