Whispers on the Wind (19 page)

Hank sat back down at his
desk. “It’s the damnedest thing. A man marches into the opera house
with a gun and everybody becomes deaf and dumb. Surely somebody had
to have seen him.”

“Maybe they’re afraid,”
Carter said.

“Nope. That ain’t it,”
Rick said. “It’s like they can remember, but they can’t say it They
get this odd look on their faces and then they tell me they didn’t
see anybody.”

“Maybe, I’ll go back to
the opera house and see if I can find some kind of a
clue.”

“How’s your ma?” Hank
asked.

“Better, but she is still
running a slight fever. Mary has been a big help taking care of
her.”

“How is her arm?” Hank
asked.

“She’s sore, but getting
better.”
And she feels absolutely
wonderful in my arms.
He decided to not
voice that tidbit of information.

“Mary sure has a pretty
voice,” Rick said. “Funny how she can remember how to sing, but not
her last name. I sure thought she’d remember who she is before now.
Somebody, somewhere, must be worried about her.”

She has a lovely body,
too.
Carter knew he needed to get the
thoughts out of his head so he said, “I’m sure they are.” He just
hoped it was not because she had committed a crime.

The jailhouse door swung
open and a man strode in with a couple of leather pouches slung
over his shoulder. “Hello, Hank,” he said, nodding to Carter and
Rick. “Heard you got yourself shot.”

“Yep.” Hank nodded,
flexing his shoulder. “Must be getting slow.”

The messenger looked
through one of the bags and fished out a handful of letters. “Here
you go.” He handed the letters to Hank.

“Obliged,” Hank said,
reaching for the bundle. “How you doing, Virgil?”

“My ass hurts,” he
answered. “I’ve been in that damned saddle too long.”

“Why don’t you rest a
spell?” Rick suggested.

“Better not. I’m late. Ran
into the Carlson gang a few miles outside of town and had to swing
around another way. Figured if they saw me, they’d go for the mail
just for meanness.”

Carter frowned. “You sure
it was the Carlson gang?”

“Dang tootin’. I had the
misfortune of bumping into them before.” He held up his right hand
to show he was missing half a finger. “Last time I only lost a
finger,” Virgil said as he turned to go. “Sure don’t want to lose
nothin’ else. I hope you folks don’t have no trouble.”

“Me, too,” the sheriff
said. “See you next time, Virgil.”

After Virgil had left, Rick
looked at Carter, who was staring out the window. “Well, you’ve
been chasing the Carlsons. Looks like you’re not going to have to
chase much longer.”

“I’d say they are looking
for a fight, all right,” Carter said.

“And you are going to
oblige them,” Rick concluded.

“Damn right”

Hank had been opening the
mail as they talked. He unfolded a piece of paper and held the
sheet up. “I think this is our new wanted poster,” he said. He
looked at it closer, his eyes growing wide. After a moment, he
said, “I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?” Rick asked,
taking the paper out of Hank’s hand. Rick’s eyebrows shot up in
surprise. “Jumping jacks! ”

Carter took a deep breath
and asked, “So, who is it?”

Rick carried the poster
over to Carter. “Maybe you can tell us.”

Frowning, Carter jerked the
poster out of Rick’s hand. Why were those two were acting so
strangely? They acted like they’d never seen a wanted poster
before.

Carter glanced at the
poster and froze. They had been right This poster certainly was
different from any other he’d seen. He stared at the picture in the
middle and he began to grow cold inside. From lowered lids, he shot
a commanding look at the two men staring at him. His mouth was set
with annoyance.

“Wanted dead or alive for
the murder of Big Jim McCoy,” he drawled with distinct mockery for
all to hear. There was a picture with the name printed under it His
face became a glowering mask of rage. It didn’t say Mary No Name.
It said in plain black and white, Mary Costner.

Chapter Twelve

Carter felt numb as he stared at
the poster.

He closed his eyes and took
a deep steadying breath, then he thought back to the first night
when he’d found Mary. She’d had blood in her hair. Even then the
hairs on the back of his neck had told him something wasn’t right
He’d also had the feeling that she was running from
something.

He had been
right

The girl had played him for
a fool the entire time, and worse, he’d let her. To think that he
could have felt something for Mary stunned him. His shock yielded
quickly to fury. His eyes darkened like angry thunderclouds. He’d
been foolish to let his guard down.

When Carter looked up, Hank
and Rick seemed to be waiting for him to say something. “I guess we
now know Mary’s last name.” A thin chill hung on the edge of his
words.

Rick was frowning as if he
were trying to figure it all out “I find it hard to believe that
the Mary we know could have killed anyone.”

That’s for a judge to
decide,” Carter said in a voice that sounded as ice cold as his
heart felt He went to the desk, placed his coffee cup down with a
resounding thud, and grabbed his hat “Where you going?” Hank
asked.

With an impatient sigh,
Carter replied, To arrest Mary.”

“She’s too young to be in
jail,” Hank protested. “Maybe there is something more about what
happened that we’re not seeing.”

“What’s the matter with
both of you?” Carter snapped. His curt voice lashed out at them.
“She might be a woman but she is accused of murder.” He looked at
Rick. “We simply overlooked the clues. Remember when we found her?
She wasn’t all that far from Gregory Gulch and her hands were rough
for a woman, but we were too caught up in the helpless female
appearance to pay attention to our jobs.” Carter nodded curtly to
both of them. “Gentlemen, she could be a cold-blooded murderer who
wrapped us around her little finger,” Carter told them. For all he
knew, she could be back at the ranch having a good laugh about the
fool he’d been.

“What about the Carlson
Gang?” Hank asked. “If they want me, they will have to wait their
turn,” Carter gritted out, feeling all his anger bubbling like a
cauldron inside of him. “You did notice that poster said dead or
alive. I’d like to see her brought in alive,” he said, then slammed
the door on his way out

“Strange,” Hank
commented.

“What’s strange?” Rick
asked. “Carter’s always been hotheaded.”

“Well, that might be
true”—Hank chuckled—“but the Carlson Gang has been a thorn in that
man’s side ever since I can remember. Getting every last one of
them was all he seemed to live for. Now, suddenly they’re not so
important ” Hank scratched his head. “I think Carter cares for
Mary, but he’ll never admit it ’Cause if he did, he’d have to
question himself about upholding the law.”

Rick laughed. “Maybe he
doesn’t know he cares. He sure hasn’t admitted it to me. Until he
does, I’d say Carter is in for a rough ride.”

When Carter arrived at the
ranch, his anger was barely held in check. He strode into the house
and demanded Mary’s whereabouts.

Maria was coming out of the
kitchen when she ran into Carter. “Senior.”

“Where is
Mary?”

“She’s gone. At least two
hours now.”

“Gone where?”

Maria shrugged. “I do not
know, senior.”

He didn’t say anything else
as he strode across the main room. So she had run. It figured that
she’d just up and leave with not so much as a good-bye, the
ungrateful bitch. Of course, why would he expect her to say
good-bye, considering what he knew about her now?

She’d been using them all
along, pretending not to remember her past when she’d only needed a
place to hide. Carter climbed the steps two at a time, heading for
her room to see if she had cleaned it out. If she’d left her
belongings, maybe it meant she was coming back.

He shoved open the door and
glanced around. It looked exactly the same as it had this morning,
only the bed had been made. A note was propped up on the
pillows.

He snatched up the paper
and then went to the wardrobe. All the clothes were still there as
if Mary had never been here. But her old dress was gone, he
noticed. His brow lifted with surprise.

“Well, I’ll be damned. At
least, she isn’t a thief. Just a murderer,” he said to himself. He
looked down at the paper he had crumpled in his hand. He unfolded
the note.

Carter,

I know you won’t believe
anything I have to say, but I have come to care a great deal for
you and your mother. That is why I’m leaving. I love you both, and
I don’t want to hurt you with my problems.

Love,

Mary

She called murder a
problem? Carter crumpled the note and tossed it on the dressing
table, then stormed out of the room. He couldn’t stay there. The
whole damned room smelled like Mary. He clenched his jaw. When he
passed Maria in the hall, he told her gruffly, “Have somebody clean
that room right away.”

Carter took a deep breath
before he opened the door to his mother’s room. She lay swaddled in
bedclothes, her eyes shut But the minute she heard him, her eyes
opened. Carter thought she looked pale, but that was to be expected
since she’d been in bed a few days.

“How do you feel?” he
asked as he took her hand in his.

“Maria says my fever has
finally broken,” Judith said. “And my head doesn’t hurt half as bad
as it did. I hope I’m at least sitting up by tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you will be,
Mother.” Carter knelt beside her bed. “I’m glad to hear that your
fever has broken. Hank said he’d be out to see you tonight,” Carter
said as he pushed himself to his feet.

He wanted to give his
mother a reassuring smile, but couldn’t “I have to ride out and I
don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll see you when I return.” He
turned to leave.

“She’s left us,” Judith
said, simply.

Carter glanced back at his
mother. He saw the tears in her eyes and he heard the sadness in
her voice. He wanted to choke Mary for making them care about her.
“I know.”

“Mary left me a note
saying she’d remembered her identity," Judith told him. Carter was
surprised that Mary had been so thoughtful.

Judith took a deep breath
before she could continue. “I will miss her,” she whispered, then
gave her son a soft smile. “But I have the feeling she’ll come back
to us.”

Carter couldn’t bring
himself to tell his mother the truth, not while she was sick.
“Maybe she will,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing. “Get some
rest so you can get well, and don’t worry about Mary,” he
said.

Judith rewarded him with a
smile, but Carter could see the tears she was trying not to shed.
It was the same look she’d had after his sister’s death. It only
added fuel to the fire burning in his chest.

Carter went straight to the
stable and retrieved his horse. Then he went in search of Stanley.
Carter found him pitching hay. “Have you seen Mary?”

Stanley stabbed the
pitchfork into the ground and leaned against it. “Yep. She took the
gray out for a ride. Should be back before long, I
expect.”

Carter mounted his horse.
“Which way did she go?”

Stanley pointed. "That
way.”

Carter swung his mount
around and rode off, but he did manage to hear Stanley say, “Don’t
think she’s in trouble, do you?”

Carter could only laugh to
himself at the last remark. “Trouble,” he said as he rode. The girl
invented the word.” Now he could add horse thief to her other
charges. As he settled his horse into a canter, he shook his
head.

The stupid woman was headed
in the wrong direction.

The mountains Mary rode
through were beautiful, and the Ponderosa pines a lush green. She
felt almost peaceful riding along surrounded by God’s beautiful
land. She really wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this, she
thought Maybe one day, if she could clear her name, it might be
possible. The road finally opened up to a wide expanse of prairie
covered in a rainbow of wildflowers, making her want to stop and
breathe in the beautiful fragrance. And then she realized how
stupid that thought was.

She was running for her
life, not out for a lovely ride.

She’d pushed her mount hard
for the first couple of hours, but she finally eased up, not
wanting to exhaust the horse. She had discovered she had no idea
which direction she needed to go, so she just rode in hopes of
seeing anything that might look familiar.

By now Carter must have
seen the wanted poster, and he’d know she’d been lying. She
wondered if there was some small chance that Carter might think she
was innocent. Or did he think like most lawmen, and could only see
what appeared to be the truth?