The Rightful Heir (2 page)

She scoffed. “How could you not know? He wrote you every week. Page after page. He even included a copy of the paper hoping you'd use the schooling he paid for to help him make it better.”

“I'm going to do just that.” His words were as forceful as hers.

Grump had paid for his schooling? He didn't have the heart to tell this angry woman and the sheriff that he hadn't known about the letters. That his mother had confessed to burning them without telling him of their existence. Her deathbed confessions about so many things had driven him to return to Pine Haven and finally connect with the only relative he had left. Only now Grump was gone, too. Resentment of his mother's secretive silence about his father's family, and the revelation that she'd hidden them from him for the whole of his life, had instilled in him a deep mistrust of women. Mary Lou's quick move to take ownership of the paper without contacting him echoed his mother's furtive actions and reinforced that mistrust.

The sheriff twisted his brow in a frown. “Don't know exactly what to do.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin with one hand. “I reckon the two of you will have to run the paper together until the judge comes to town. He'll have to sort it out for you.”

“Run it together?” Mary Lou's protest was incredulous.

“I have no intention of sharing my inheritance with a perfect stranger.” Jared wouldn't give up the last claim he had to a family connection. He had no living relatives and wouldn't let what was rightly his slip away from him to pacify a small-town sheriff or placate a woman who had entrenched herself in his grandfather's life. Possibly for the sole purpose of gaining his fortune at his death.

“It's not your inheritance.” Mary Lou took a step toward him. “It's mine. You may be blood kin, but I was the only family Jacob Ivy had for the last eight years.”

The sheriff opened the door. “The two of you can argue all you want. I won't dispossess either of you. The judge should be through town between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Learn to work together until then.” He stepped through the doorway. “Mr. Ivy, I'd recommend you stay in the rooms upstairs that your grandfather used. Mary Lou lives in the quarters attached to the back of the building.”

“He can't stay here!” Mary Lou was indignant.

“Sheriff, you have the authority to evict her.” Jared made another attempt to settle the matter today.

“I do, but I won't be the one to throw an orphaned girl into the street without the judge's say-so.” He tipped his hat to Mary Lou. “Good day to you both.” And he was gone.

An orphan? Mary Lou was a grown woman. One who could take care of herself. It wasn't his responsibility to provide her with a home. No self-respecting woman would allow a man to take care of her in such a fashion.

“Oooo, the nerve of that man! He is forever taking the easy road as sheriff.” She stood with her back straight and her fists clenched at her sides. The wrath of Mary Lou Ellison seemed to be a force to be reckoned with.

How would he endure one month with this fiery creature? Much less two?

He'd try a different approach. Perhaps he could reason with her. “Miss Ellison, I appreciate that you were close to Grump. I'm sure he loved you a great deal.”

“He did. And I can tell you he wouldn't cotton to the way you're trying to put me out on the street.” She turned on one heel and went back to the work she'd been doing when he'd arrived.

“I'm not trying to put you out on the street. I can give you a handsome sum so you can set yourself up in a nice room somewhere. Enough to get you through until you find work.”

“A few measly dollars so I'll give you my paper? I am not interested, Mr. Ivy.” She fished through the tray in search of another letter. Nimble fingers slid it into place beside the others.

“It's not measly. It will be more than a judge will give you when he comes to town and sees the paper is rightfully mine. He could even require you to pay me for the time you refuse to leave.”

“Pay you? I earn my way here. Don't be surprised when the deed I bring to the judge has him sending you on your merry way. You
and
your will. A man's actions speak to who he is. A fair judge will see you as a grandson who only wanted an inheritance. This entire region knows I've worked on this paper since I was a schoolgirl. My time under your grandfather's tutelage will show how close we were.”

“You've been here since you were a girl?” Why would Grump take in a young girl?

“Mr. Ivy knew my uncle well. When he got sick, I didn't know what would happen to me. Before he died, Mr. Ivy promised that he'd take care of me. I've been here ever since.”

Was she right? Surely a judge would consider blood kinship when deciding a man's claim. His grandfather was dead. No other living soul shared his blood. Jared was the end of the Ivy line.

“I'm sorry for your loss.” He dipped his head to emphasize the sincerity of his words. He found it difficult to be alone in the world. It must be harder on a woman. Though he'd seen no sign of weakness in this one.

She nodded in response. “Thank you. Losing Mr. Ivy has been the hardest thing I've ever faced.”

His head shot up. “Losing Grump? What about your own kin?”

Mary Lou shook her head. “My own kin didn't want me or love me. Not like Mr. Ivy did.”

“But you said he knew your uncle well.”

“He did. He knew well how little my uncle wanted me in the first place.” She fingered the letter she held in her hand and stared at it as if seeking an answer. “No one ever understood me or was kind to me like your grandfather. It's a loss I'll not soon forget.” She cleared her throat and slid the letter into place. “Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to finish to get the paper ready to print.”

“I'll need you to show me how to set up the paper.” He took off his coat and hung it on the coat tree near the door. He dropped his hat over the coat and pushed up his sleeves. The sound of tiny letters hitting the floor and scattering caused him to turn around.

“Look what you made me do.” Mary Lou went down on her hands and knees to gather the errant letters.

Jared bent to pick up the composing stick she'd been using to set the letters for the story she was working on. He turned it over in his hand and put it back on the table. “How long will it take to redo this?” He got down on his knees to help her.

“Maybe an hour.” She scooped up more letters and sat back on her heels. “Unless someone causes another delay.”

He put his hands up in a defensive posture. “I only volunteered to help. I'm sorry you dropped this, but I can't think it was my doing.”

The air went out of her in a huff. “You're right. I'm sorry for being rude.”

“An apology? I'll admit you have surprised me, Miss Ellison.”

She reached for another stray letter. “No more than you surprised me, Mr. Ivy.”

How did she feel? What would it be like to have your business and home taken from you by a stranger? He was sorry for her, but at the same time it was his business. His home. It hadn't been hers to take in the first place. He'd be civil with her, but he wouldn't allow himself to be sympathetic to her plight to the point of giving up the only thing he had left of his family legacy. He must remind himself that, whatever her intention, she stole that from him. And he would get it back, no matter what.

Gunfire erupted in the street behind him. He took cover under the desk as Mary Lou scurried to her feet, reached for a pad and pencil, and headed for the door.

Chapter Two

M
ary Lou let out a yelp when Jared reached from under the desk and caught her by the arm.

“You can't go out there! It's not safe!”

She jerked her elbow from his grasp. “It's my job.” She left him, mouth agape, and went to the front window. She could see several people spilling out of the swinging doors at Winston's Grand Saloon on the opposite side of Pine Street. Someone she didn't recognize ran up the sidewalk in her direction. He had a pistol in one hand and a man lay prone in the street behind him.

“Lord, help me
.
” She didn't realize she'd spoken out loud as she pulled the door open and stepped into the path of the fleeing gunman. The man tried to avoid her and ran headlong into a post on her porch. As he tripped and landed on his back, the gun he held flew across the ground and skidded into the middle of the dirt street.

“What are you doing?” Jared came out of the newspaper office behind her. “You could be hurt.”

Mary Lou skipped down the steps and kicked the gun away as the gunman rolled over to get up.

She barked at Jared. “If you don't stay out of my way, you could get me killed.” She turned to see Sheriff Collins emerge from the crowd around the victim. “Glad you could join us, Sheriff.”

The man in the street made a last effort to get away, but the sheriff grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. “Whoa, there. Ain't no need in making me have to work harder. It'll just make me less pleasant when you're sitting in my jail.”

Mary Lou held her pencil at the ready. “What's your name? Do you know the man you shot?”

The man protested. “Let me go. I didn't do anything.”

The sheriff grunted. “That's what everyone who ends up in my jail says.”

Mary Lou took a step closer. “Why did you shoot him?”

The man twisted against the sheriff's hold but was no match for the lawman's strength. “I didn't!” There was something in the tone of his declaration that made her think he could be telling the truth.

“Then why run away?”

“I didn't want to get shot.”

Sheriff Collins held up one hand. “Let me get him to the jail, Mary Lou. I'll even give you first crack at talking to him, seeing how you helped me out when you kicked away his gun.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” She hurried in the direction of the crowd in front of the saloon. “I'll be by as soon as I've talked to the witnesses.”

The sheriff's voice bellowed behind her. “Let me do my job, Mary Lou.”

She ignored him. If she waited for him to get back from putting the shooter in jail, most of the crowd would have dispersed.

She stopped short. The man on his way to jail might not be the shooter. She'd assumed so because he'd run away from the scene so quickly. What if he was another intended victim? Mr. Ivy would scold her for such assumptions. He'd say it was a poor journalist who lost their objectivity.

She approached the owner of the general store. “Mr. Croft, did you see what happened?”

“No, ma'am.” The older man brushed his sleeves to remove the dust of the street. “I was just heading back to the store after getting my hair cut. Next thing I know, I'm lying in the street next to some fella who just got shot.” He frowned and looked at her. “It's a sad day when a man can't walk through the middle of town without such an incident.”

Mary Lou agreed with Mr. Croft, but she didn't have time for his commiserations today. “Thank you, Mr. Croft.”

She pushed her way between the gawkers and tried to get a good look at the victim. He was a stranger. Most of the people who got into trouble at the saloon weren't from around Pine Haven. They were usually passengers from the train stopping over for business or cowboys on their way farther west who stopped into town for a rest from their travels.

Doc Willis pushed through the other side of the gathering. “Back up, folks. Let me see if I can help the man.”

People pushed back just enough to let the doctor inside the tight circle of the curious. The man groaned and became combative when the doctor touched the bleeding wound on his leg.

A deep, rich voice spoke from beside her. “You'll only make it worse if you don't hold still.” Jared leaned in close, causing her to shift and regain her footing. Mary Lou bristled at his intrusion.

The victim grunted and the doctor pushed the man's shoulder back against the dirt. “He's right. All that straining isn't doing you a bit of good.” The doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a strip of white bandaging cloth.

Mary Lou wouldn't be pushed aside by Jared Ivy. As far as she was concerned, he was a newcomer who threatened her paper. “How bad is it, Doc?”

“He'll live, but he's gonna have a whopper of a limp for a while.”

Jared's next words surprised her. “Did anyone see who shot him?”

Mary Lou jerked her head around to face him. “I was just about to ask that.” Jared's eyes seemed to laugh at her when two men spoke up.

“I saw the whole thing.” This man was another stranger. His words were slurred with liquor. From experience, Mary Lou knew nothing he said would prove helpful.

Winston Ledford, the owner of the saloon, spoke next. “Who's asking?” Mr. Ledford was known for being a shrewd businessman. Most of the town hadn't wanted a saloon, but he'd built it anyway. And the success of his business was a trial to them all. The violence of fist fights and the occasional shootings were punctuation to the endless raucous laughter and noise that never ceased to escape the doors of his establishment.

“Jared Ivy. I'm the owner of the
Pine Haven Record
.”

Silence fell across the scene. Doc Willis looked up from tending his patient. “Mary Lou is the owner of the
Record
.”

Mary Lou broke into the conversation. “Did you see what happened, Mr. Ledford?”

He shook his head. “I was in my office when I heard the commotion. It appears to me that this man was shot in the street, not in my establishment.” He nodded to Mary Lou. “I see no reason for my presence here.” He turned and walked away. The doors of the saloon swooshed behind him as he disappeared into the dark interior.

She decided to go straight to the heart of the matter. Leaning in as the doctor sat the shooting victim up, she asked, “Sir, do you know the man who shot you?”

“I do.” His words were weak and he slumped against the doctor.

Jared interrupted again. “Who was it?”

The victim laughed. “I shot myself. My pa warned me that gun had a hair trigger. Went off in my lap when I reached to pull my winnings from the middle of the table.” He suddenly looked around the circle of bystanders, very concerned. “Hey! Who got my money?”

Mary Lou sighed and backed away from the group. She knew without looking behind her that the crowd was dispersing. One man's careless actions had caused quite a stir. The gamblers who took his money had probably tossed him into the street. End of story.

Jared caught up to her as she stepped onto the porch in front of the paper. “Are you just walking away without finding out what happened?”

She stopped and turned on her heel. “There is no story. It was an accident.”

Jared spread his arms wide, palms up. “No story? What about the man sitting in the jail this minute? He probably has a story to tell.”

“He was a victim of the commotion. The sheriff will release him as soon as he knows the victim shot himself. The man said he didn't do it before he was taken to jail.”

“I'm not so sure.” His eyes narrowed. “Not so sure at all.” He lifted a hand in parting. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

She went into the paper and dropped her notebook on the desk. Picking up the composing stick and beginning to reassemble the work she'd dropped onto the floor earlier, she wasn't surprised when Jared didn't follow her inside. He may be off on a fool's errand, but she had a paper to print.

* * *

Jared turned the corner on Main Street and headed for the sheriff's office. Why would a man run away from a shooting with his gun drawn if he didn't have anything to do with it? Something didn't sit right in Jared's craw about this presumed-innocent stranger.

He opened the door of the sheriff's office and stepped inside.

“What is it now, Ivy? Can't you see I'm a busy man?” Sheriff Collins pulled the large key from the lock on the cell door at the back of his office. He hung the ring on a nail on the wall behind his desk. The man he'd hauled away from the scene minutes earlier declared his innocence from behind the bars.

“Hush up!” the sheriff warned the alleged criminal in the cell. He put the man's gun in the top drawer of his desk, locked it, dropped that key into the pocket of his leather vest and patted it. “You've caused enough trouble here today. Sit down and be quiet.”

Jared watched the man who had appeared guilty after his attempt to leave the scene. What had really happened in the saloon? “Sheriff, the fellow with the bullet in his leg says he shot himself.”

The prisoner rattled the door of the cell. “I told you I didn't shoot him!”

Sheriff Collins pinned the man with a stare. “I won't tell you again to be quiet.” He asked Jared, “How did he say it happened?”

“Said his gun had a hair trigger and went off when he reached to pull the pot he'd won from the middle of the table. His only complaint is not knowing where his money went.”

The sheriff looked from Jared to the occupant of the cell. “How much money you got on you?”

“What?” The man was outraged. “First I'm a gunman, now I'm a thief?”

Jared studied the man. He didn't yet know what to think about the events of the last hour. “Why did you run?”

The man almost snorted at him. “Ever been in a saloon when gunfire erupts? Everybody runs.”

The sheriff pulled his lips in under the heavy mustache he wore and leaned his head to one side before shaking it. “No. Everybody doesn't.”

Jared noticed the clothes the man wore. He looked familiar. “Who are you?”

“I'll ask the questions, Mr. Ivy.” The sheriff didn't seem pleased to have someone horn in on his territory, but Jared's innate curiosity had his mind full of questions.

The prisoner pointed through the bars at Jared. “He just told you that man shot himself. You got no reason to hold me here.”

“I'll be the one decidin' if there's a reason to hold you.” The sheriff leaned against the side of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “I'd like to know the same thing Mr. Ivy is asking. Who are you?”

“Name's Elmer Finch. I'm a newsagent on the train.”

“That's where I saw you.” Jared knew he'd seen that face recently.

“Well, I'll just go around to the depot and speak to the station master then.” The sheriff straightened and headed for the door.

Elmer Finch spoke up. “The station master probably won't know me. Today is my first day with the line. You'll have to speak to someone on the train. I'd appreciate it if you're quick about it. The train had a long stop so some repairs could be made. I've only got a half hour before I'm supposed to be back on the job.”

Sheriff Collins banged the door behind him as he left.

Jared walked to the cell. “What were you doing in the saloon?”

Mr. Finch didn't meet his eye. A sure sign to Jared that he wasn't being honest. “I was having supper.”

“Hmm...” It wouldn't be productive to question someone who was lying. He decided to follow the sheriff and see what they could learn at the depot.

“You can mutter all you want. I'm telling you the truth.” Elmer Finch's words rang out behind him as Jared closed the door to the sheriff's office.

Something wasn't right and Jared was determined to find out what it was.

After a trip to the depot and the doctor's office, Jared headed back to the paper. It might be his first day in town, but he was already stirring with anticipation about putting his first story in the paper. He opened the door and stopped short as a young man hung a copy of the paper to dry. Mary Lou loaded the next sheet of paper for printing. Several copies hung along the outer edge of the office.

“Why did you start printing the paper before I got back?”

“We always print on Saturday when we can. I don't like to work on the Lord's Day or wait until Monday morning. It gives overnight for the papers to dry, and you never know when you might have a problem with the press. It's best to get it printed as soon as the stories are complete.” She nodded to the young man. “Andrew Nobleson, this is Jared Ivy. He claims he owns the paper, and Sheriff Collins says I've got to put up with him until the judge comes through town again. Maybe a month or two.”

“How do you do, sir?” Andrew offered his hand and pulled it back at the last second when he realized how much ink was on it.

“Hello, Andrew.”

“Andrew is my apprentice. He helps with many of the odd jobs involved in putting out the paper.”

Jared looked at Mary Lou, carefully inking the press for another copy. “I told you I thought there was more to the story.”

She didn't even look up; just put the ink roller down while Andrew loaded the next sheet of paper. He cranked it under the press and pulled the lever to print the page.

“Was there?” She looked doubtful as she helped Andrew remove the paper and grabbed the ink roller again.

“I'm not exactly sure.” He leaned against the desk. “Something about the man doesn't fit.”

Mary Lou continued to work with Andrew. Jared watched them move with motions seemingly synchronized by the experience of having worked together for a long time.

“Then I'm glad I didn't hold the press for you. I won't print something that's vague or unfounded.”

“It's not unfounded. And I've got equal say about what gets printed.”