Under a Falling Star (24 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

G
usts of wind scattered the dirt in the street and whipped the horses’ tails around. Women hurried along the boardwalk with one hand clamped to their skirts and the other one on their bonnets. Frustrated that the soldiers had yet to arrive, Albert paced like a caged wolf, back and forth in front of the El Dorado Hotel. The twelve o’clock stage from Denver was due any minute.

A family of five waited eagerly in the hotel lobby with their bags packed. Every few minutes the husband braved the wind by coming out the door to peer up the street. He’d nod amicably to Albert and then disappear back inside. A lone man, lucky passenger number six, who’d gotten the last seat on the incoming stage, leaned against the outside wall.

Albert’s patience was at a breaking point. Someone of importance better be on this stage. Someone who could arrange transport of the money without incident. The torment of guarding the bank and putting up with Babcock had him cranky. After the money was gone, he’d have time to concentrate on winning Susanna back, and to spend with Nate, help him grieve.

Rumbling wheels and jangling harnesses alerted him to the approaching stage. It rounded the corner. The driver pulled the animals down to a trot and finally to a halt in front of the hotel. A cloud of dust billowed out everywhere, made worse by the aggravating wind.

Impatient, Albert stepped forward before the dirt had a chance to clear and pulled open the narrow door.

Empty!

What the hell is going on?
I have a million dollars sitting in a two-room bank and no one seems to care.

Angry, he turned on Ralph, who was climbing down from the front seat. The wiry man wore a coat of dust from head to toe. His weary smile faded when he saw Albert’s scuffed face.

“Don’t ask.”

“All right, Sheriff, I won’t.”

“Where’s the banker?” Albert demanded.

Ralph’s face turned crotchety. “Don’t get testy with me, Albert Preston. You may be the sheriff of Logan Meadows but that don’t give ya the right to bite my head off the moment I arrive. I’m the one who just drove a hundred miles, not you.” Once on the ground Ralph took a moment to stretch out his back. “You sure got up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“I never got up because I never went to bed.”

“That explains it. Now, who’re you lookin’ for?”

The Cooper family piled out the hotel door anxious to get their baggage loaded. When one of the boys went to climb up the back of the coach, Ralph stopped him. “Just set it here, sonny. I’ll load the baggage. We still got some time—’bout half an hour to be exact.”

Ralph turned back to Albert. “Who was you expectin’, Sheriff?”

Feeling a bit contrite for treating Ralph so shabbily, Albert tried to smile. “Some bankers from Denver. You wouldn’t know anything about them, would you?”

“I sure the heck don’t. But that don’t mean much. They could’a missed a connection somewhere along the way, had one of the team pull up lame, or could’a got sick so bad they couldn’t travel. Last I heard, Coloradie was getting some snow. Could’a closed the pass. Any one of a hundred things out there could’a tripped ’em up.”

While Ralph was getting the mail bag from under the driver’s seat, Albert noticed Babcock riding up the street on his horse. Why wasn’t the man home in his bed, asleep? He’d had the same shift Albert had last night. They’d both pulled off at five, then he’d seen him in the restaurant at seven, and now here he was again at noon. Was the man too thick in the head to understand he was supposed to be sleeping so he’d be alert for his next shift tonight?

Anger bubbled within his own tired body as he rubbed his gritty eyes. If he wasn’t careful, his lack of sleep would wear him down. Mistakes would happen. Was that what the outlaws were waiting for?

Beth came out of the mercantile with the canvas mail sack and headed for the stage. With a snooty look down her long nose, she handed the bag to Ralph and took the one he held. She scooted off as if interaction with any of them was far below her level. Ralph watched her walk all the way back to the mercantile, and didn’t take his eyes from her path until she’d disappeared inside the building.

Ralph turned to him. “Ain’t she just about the purttiest little gal you ever did see?” His eyes were glassy and his weathered face took on a faraway look that made him appear years younger.

Albert swiveled to see who Ralph was talking about. It couldn’t be Miss Fairington. Perhaps someone else had walked up when Albert wasn’t looking. But the street was empty except for Babcock, who’d dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching rail, and a few other men ambling along in either direction. “Who? Beth Fairington?”

The stage driver, who couldn’t be more than five feet tall, squinted up into Albert’s face. “Whaddya mean who? Of course, I mean Miss Fairington,” he said in a quarrelsome tone. Albert’s bad mood had rubbed off on him. “A woman like that don’t come along but once in a lifetime.”

And thank God for that!

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Ralph. Does she know how you feel about her?”

He pulled back as if someone had struck him in the face. “Naw, I ain’t fit to wipe her boots.” He removed his hat and smacked it several times across his pants creating a small cloud of dust. “Darn this wind. I’m not presentable for a den of varmints.”

Albert patted him on the back. “Go get yourself something to eat while you still have time. I see Win on his way down to water your stock, buckets in hand.” Nate tromped at his side, face downcast and wind blowing his hair. Win had reported that Nate had withdrawn into himself last night, then woke up with nightmares. He’d seemed fine at breakfast, but now he looked pretty downcast. Albert wished he could help somehow.

Seemed there was nothing to be done except wait, and be patient. Show Nate how much he cared. When Ralph turned around, Albert gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry I about bit your head off. I’m at the end of my rope and took it out on you.”

Dalton looped his reins loosely around the hitching rail and waited by his horse’s side. He glanced around. Where was the bank employee? Had he missed him? He’d thought to come before the stage arrived, but didn’t want to get in Albert’s way any more than he had to. And if he was honest with himself, he wanted to make sure the sheriff wasn’t sneaking into the Silky Hen for more one-on-one time with Suzie. She was partial to him, and it wouldn’t take much for her to forgive the whole ugly mess. Now that Dalton had come to terms with his own feelings, he didn’t want his chances with her to be snatched away so quickly. She needed time to get to know him again, and what he had to offer, then she’d be able to make a better decision. Maybe she was ready to leave this town. Logan Meadows couldn’t hold much happiness for her now that Albert had a son to remind her every minute that he’d lied to her.

“No banker?” Dalton asked, ambling over to Albert. He noticed the bruise on Albert’s chin had deepened in color.

“No. No banker.” Albert started away, presumably headed for the sheriff’s office.

“Albert, hold up.”

Albert turned and waited until he caught him. “Did the driver know why no one was on the stage?”

“No, he had no idea.”

The bloodshot stain of Albert’s eyes was almost painful to look at. “You need some sleep. Can’t you take an hour or two before tonight?”

“We need to figure out what’s going on with this money, Babcock. I don’t like having it holed up in our bank, a lure for any roughneck looking for a free ticket. If it hadn’t been for the need to get Evan out, we’d have been better off leaving it in the fortified train car out at Three Pines Turn.”

“No, that’s not true. It’s on a deadline to reach San Francisco. They’ll be here soon.”

“I don’t like that you brought this down on our heads.”

Dalton took a step closer. He didn’t like Albert’s tone one bit. “Are you blaming me for the wreck?”

“I have to blame someone and it may as well be you. We need to get that money on its way or find a way to hire a heck of a lot more guards. Problem is, there aren’t that many men I know who’re good with a gun. Most around here are farmers and ranchers who kill game to feed their families, not shoot at men. Shooting a man takes a whole different set of nerves.”

“I hear you on that.”

Albert’s stance relaxed some, and Dalton nodded. “I just want you to know I appreciate all you’ve done so far. With the other two guards either gone or incapacitated, I needed help, and you supplied it.”

Albert’s stony gaze never wavered. “Just doing my job.”

He was going to have to eat a little crow to win the sheriff back to his side. They couldn’t stay at odds like this and keep the money safe. “We need to work together, Albert. Neither one of us likes the situation with Suzie—”

Albert jerked up straight.

“With Susanna,” he quickly amended. “But we can’t let that interfere with the challenge we still have ahead of us. What do you say to calling a truce? Just for the time being?”

Albert’s stiff body and red, tired eyes spoke for themselves. Dalton wouldn’t get too far with him now. A three-hour sleep would do far more to improve his temperament than anything Dalton could say, unless it was that he was throwing in the towel where Susanna was concerned, and that wasn’t going to happen.

Best to change his approach and start over before Albert stomped off. Win and Nate had passed by on the opposite side of the street and had arrived at the stage. They dipped the buckets they carried into the water trough to give to the horses. When Nate looked up, Albert waved and smiled.

“How’s he doing?”

“We’re getting by. Taking one day at a time.” Albert ambled off, and Dalton followed. He’d have to return later for his horse. Albert gave a long-suffering sigh. “Seriously, Babcock, don’t you want to go get some shut-eye while you still can? Whatever you say isn’t going to sway me away from Susanna.”

“I know, I know. That’s why I thought we could plan what to do if no bank men show up. I’ve been thinking that maybe they’ve been murdered.”

Albert swung around.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking the same thing.”

They started up the boardwalk together this time. “I have. Or something like it. You go send another telegram to the bank. Try to get specifics. I want names and dates, if indeed they actually left Denver when they said they did.”

“Got it. Do you have anything pressing at the moment? If not, go get a few minutes sleep upstairs in your old apartment. The bed’s still up there, right?”

“Are you
still
trying to tell me what to do, Babcock? Because I
still
don’t like it one little bit. I’m headed to Dr. Thorn’s to check on Evan. See if he’s made any progress.”

Dalton narrowed his eyes. The sheriff was allowed to see Evan, but
he
wasn’t? What was Albert fishing for with Evan? What could Evan know that he didn’t? “The longer he lies there, the less likely he’ll make a recovery. Has he woken up at all?”

Albert shook his head. “No. And what of Pat Tackly? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since I left him in the hotel.”

“I haven’t seen him either.” The sheriff turned to take one more look at his son. Down at the hotel, Nate helped Win lug the heavy buckets back and forth. Albert glanced up at the clouds and his eyes narrowed. His words echoed what Dalton was feeling: “There’s a storm on the way. It’ll be here in a few days at the most.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

M
onday morning, and groggy from another long night, Albert made his way toward the livery where, by five, Win and Nate would already be feeding the horses. Albert was looking forward to the morning off, a plateful of eggs and potatoes, and a long nap. He crossed the deserted street, leaning into the wind as he eyed the dark menacing clouds overhead. Friday had finally brought a reply from Denver. Knowing the bank representatives had set out on schedule but were slowed down by a snowstorm in the high country helped. At least he didn’t have to be disappointed every day when they didn’t show up on the stage. Just hold tight until they arrived, that was the message in the telegram. But even if Albert had no choice but to wait on the bank, there were other things he could accomplish. He’d gotten a telegram off to Corey, requesting he find Floria’s mother and let her know of her daughter’s death. He still had the trunks to go through, but each time he made an attempt, memories made him put the chore off.

As he approached Win’s large barn, he glanced up to find Nate lying on his stomach in the darkened hayloft, watching him.

“Morning, Nate,” Albert said, a surge of love lifting his spirits. The wind ruffled Nate’s hair and sent a few strands of hay dancing in the air. It was a moment before his son smiled back. Nate hadn’t mentioned Floria to him again, but Albert wasn’t convinced the boy had stopped thinking about her being trapped in the train.

“Hey, Pa.” In the dim light, Win’s barn cat appeared by Nate’s shoulder, and he pulled her into a hug.

“Win,” Albert called, stepping into the quiet barn.

“Back here,” came the reply.

Albert walked down the row of stalls to the end, finding his brother inside the last one with pitchfork and wheelbarrow. “Storm’s brewing outside. You looked out there lately?”

“Earlier. It’ll be a doozy when it finally hits.”

“There wasn’t a soul on the street.”

Win took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his moist face. “Just finishing up a few things before my shift at the bank,” he replied, stretching his back muscles. “I’m going to hire another helper. I liked it when Thom was here. That man’s a good worker.”

“No, you can’t have Thom back,” Albert kidded. He leaned against the stall divider, getting comfortable. “You know Nate’s in the loft?”

“Yeah, he went up there as soon as we finished feeding. It’s my fault.”

Alarm snapped Albert up straight. “Whaddya mean?”

“I had a horse colic last night. Before I realized how serious it was, she died out in the pasture, right there with Nate petting her neck. I’m sorry, Albert. It really shook him up. He’s been pretty quiet ever since.”

Albert grunted, then gripped the back of his neck. There was so much he didn’t know about children. He felt lost. How did one get past a violent train wreck and the death of a mother?

Win lifted a forkful of soiled straw and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. “And the soldiers from Fort McKinney?”

“Still expecting them any day. I really thought they’d be here by now. I get the same reply every time I send a telegram. En route.” Albert sighed, then took a step toward the door. “I’ll go up and get Nate, take him with me to the office and play some checkers until Susanna opens the restaurant. He’ll like that.”

Win set the prongs of the pitchfork in the soft earth and leaned against the shaft. “Have you told her yet?”

“I thought we had this discussion already.”

His brother gave him a stern look. “What’s that mean? Yes or no?”

“She doesn’t need to know the particulars about Floria, and how she carried on behind my back. Not yet anyway. But, if things do work out between us, which I’m counting on, I’ll tell her eventually. I know the truth’ll be safe with her. I’m just not ready to voice it.”

“I wish you would, Albert. Before it’s too late.”

“I know you do, Win. I just can’t go there yet.”

Albert walked back toward the front of the barn. A game of checkers was sounding pretty good as a distraction for him, too. He set a foot on the first rung of the ladder leading to the hayloft and called up, “Nate?”

Susanna had solved her problem by not solving it at all—not yet, anyway. She didn’t care if avoiding the issue was considered weak. Saturday and Sunday had come and gone without a mention of the hurtful and perplexing situation with Albert, giving her heart a rest, and for that she was thankful.
One day at a time. That’s how I’ll get through.
One day at a time and
nothing
more. Between his shifts and worry over the bank, Albert hadn’t come into the restaurant, and she hadn’t tried to seek him out. Every time she felt herself softening toward him, the enormity of his lie of omission hit her smack in the face and she fell right back on her mother’s credo.

Susanna lifted her cape from the peg by the door and fastened it around her shoulders, relieved to have work to keep her mind busy. The wind that had beleaguered the town for the last few days whistled around the eaves, sending a lonely chill up her spine. Storms! She hated them. They reminded her of her stepfather’s heartless prank. The dark room and locked door. The body-filled casket. The howling wind outside. The recollection was as fresh as the day it had happened.

Dredging up fortitude, Susanna pulled her hood over her head and hoisted the basket that held several jars of jam, protectively covered with a towel. She opened the door to the dark morning. Roiling clouds covered the sky and a northern wind rushed inside. Rain and wind were common in April; she just wished the storm would hold off until she made the short walk to the Silky Hen.

Ducking her head, she stepped out and pulled the door closed. Right away, the wind picked up the corners of her cape and whipped the garment around. Clamping down on her hood, she hurried away, knowing the street would be a sea of mud by the time she returned home late in the afternoon.

Within a minute, she was at the bridge. The light of several lanterns on Main Street was a welcome sight, soothing her runaway nerves. Straightening the basket of jams in the crook of her elbow, she hurried on, the glass containers clinking against each other and competing with the sound of the wind.

“Susanna!”

She whirled around. Albert ran toward her on foot, the reins of his saddled horse in his hand as it trotted behind. The brim of his hat took a beating from the wind. He wore his typical black leather vest and guns on his hips. The sight of him brought a burst of excitement only he could create. Her thoughts jumped to the kiss, but she pushed the sensation away and smiled. “Albert.”

His gaze jerked here and there as he neared. “Come next to the building so you can hear me,” he said, ushering her toward the bookshop, his arm over her back. Something was desperately wrong. She’d never seen such desperation in his eyes. Chase watched them from his post at the bank. Flanked by the wall on one side, Albert on the other, and his horse, too, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nate’s missing.”

Alarm raced through her body. “What do you mean he’s missing? It’s only half past five.”

A deep V pulled down between Albert’s brows. Lines she’d never noticed before bracketed his eyes, and he looked haggard, older than he should. She longed to reach out and soothe away his disquiet, but she stayed her hand.

“He was just in Win’s hayloft only thirty minutes ago. I went there to pick him up.”

“Then he has to be here somewhere, Albert. Surely he’s just hiding someplace where he can be alone.” She glanced up the street toward the Silky Hen, wondering what Hannah would think when she didn’t prepare the breakfast stuffs on time. One thing for sure, the world wouldn’t come to a screeching halt if she didn’t open up at seven. “I’ll help you. Tell me everything you know.”

“I’m half out of my mind. If anything has happened to my boy I’ll never . . .” He clenched his fist, and his lips twitched. She’d never seen him so distraught.

“Shhh, nothing bad has happened to him, I’m sure. He’s probably just hiding away because he’s still grieving. He’s been through so much in the last few days.”

“I’ve alerted Chase and Charlie to keep an eye out for him and spread the word to anyone who ventures out in the storm. I’ve searched everywhere I thought he’d go. The cemetery, the creek, Maximus and Clementine’s paddock, even though I told him to stay out. My old apartment where I took him right after we buried his mother. I’ve ridden a circle around the town as well . . .”

“Surely, he must—”

“No. I have a feeling . . .” Albert looked away, as if unable to go on. He shook his head. “He took off on his own. Maybe he’s trying to make it back to Iowa. I don’t know. But I can tell you, I’m more scared now than I’ve ever been facing down an outlaw’s gun.”

Susanna turned and strode up the street with purpose. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, her words swallowed by a gust of wind. “I need to leave this basket of jams inside the restaurant. It’ll only take a moment, and then I’ll help you any way I can.” And she would. She would try to fly to the moon if he asked her. They’d been through so much. They passed Chase in stony silence, the ranchers forehead lined with worry. Nate might be in trouble, and needed her. She wouldn’t let him, or his father, down.