Annabelle Weston (12 page)

The Crowley girls waited on the porch.

Carly didn’t waste any more time and stepped forward. “I am so sorry to hear about your pa.”

“
Don’t reckon they want your sympathy,” Mack said, his lips so tight across his teeth, the blood had run out of them. “And I don’t reckon these ladies want you in their house.”

Kate gaped at him with her mouth open and Jolie just stared.

Carly took the foreman’s disrespect in stride. “I apologize if this is an inconvenient time to pay a call. I only wanted to offer you a bit of comfort. I brought you some things I thought you might like to have.”

She turned to Jed. “Sheriff, would you be so kind to unload the basket I brought with me?”

Their foreman stepped between Carly and the girls. “Take your basket and yourself off of this property. Now.”

Carly sighed, managed a soft smile and looked fixedly at Kate. Jed couldn’t believe her kindness, her persistence even after Mack’s insults. Carly had a whole lot more class than she was recognized for. She might be a saloon dolly by trade but she had more poise and grace than a pack of town ladies.

“
I’m dreadful sorry for your loss. I don’t mean any offense coming here.”

Mack laughed. “I don’t reckon you don’t. Now get out off of this property before you spoil these ladies’ respectability.”

The hurt that flashed in Carly’s countenance was more than Jed could handle.

He lashed out at the foreman. “Now see here, mister, that’s no way to treat a person who’s come to offer these girls condolences.”

“
These girls don’t need nothing from this saloon gal and never will.”

“
Shut up, Mack.” The dark look in Kate’s eyes flashed a warning she was about to say something far worse than she’d let loose already on the man.

“
Dad wouldn’t want us to treat anyone unkindly. It’s not the Christian way of living.” It was Jolie who’d spoken this time.

The girl had dried her tears, Jed was happy to see, and dug deep for the grit she’d need to survive this untamed land.

The foreman spat on the ground.

“
Thank you, Miss…?” Kate spoke ladylike.

“
Buchanan, Miss Carly Buchanan.”

“
We are very much obliged for the basket.”

Jed untied the basket and carried it to the porch. He smiled. Kate Crowley could be as mean as a snake but she’d not lacked hospitality when it counted.

“
If there’s anything else you need, you just ask.” Carly spun around and sashayed back to her mount.

Mack snorted.

Jed ignored him. It would’ve given him a great deal of satisfaction to choke the snot out of the man. The town fathers might frown on such an action.

He helped Carly back into the saddle and muttered, “You shouldn’t have come.”

“
I wanted to be helpful.”

“
Thank you for coming all the way out here,” Kate said. “We appreciate your visit.”

“
You can come again,” Jolie added. “We’d be pleased to have company.”

Carly settled her leg around the horn. There were tears in her eyes.

“
I’ll see you in town,” Jed said to Carly. It’d taken courage to come to the ranch but he never doubted she had guts.

She took the reins. “That’d suit me fine.”

Her horse stomped the ground, ready to get back to his feed, no doubt.

Carly leaned down. “Did they get a look at the
hombres
who did this?” Her voice was no more than a whisper. She didn’t want the girls to hear.

“
The older sister saw them but she didn’t recognize them.”

Carly shot a look at the girls. “That’s too bad.”

“
Don’t you worry, I’ll find them.”

“
I’m sure you will.” She straightened.

He wondered about the question. How had she known there was more than one killer?

She turned her horse’s head and started down the road. She rode with her back straight and her head held high.

Jed watched until she disappeared around a bend. He’d like to have gone with her, but he needed to take a look around.

“
I’m dreadful sorry about the way Mack talked to Miss Buchanan,” Kate said.

“
She’s from one of the saloons in town?” Jolie asked.

“
That’s right. She owns the Lonesome.”

“
Is she a friend of yours?” Jolie asked.

Jed exhaled. He hadn’t thought of what they had together as a friendship but why couldn’t it be?

“
I reckon she is.”

* * * * *

As Carly bounced down the empty road, she cursed herself for coming out to the Crowley place. She’d put on this getup and posed as a concerned neighbor. Those girls needed more than a saloon dolly to see them through the tough days ahead.

Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She had to know if the two customers who’d been bragging about killing a man had been the desperadoes who’d done in Mr. Crowley. The oldest girl had seen them, Jed had told her. No doubt, she’d be able to recognize them if they came back to town.

Maybe Tucson had seen the last of them. Maybe not.

She reached town at last, with a sore patootie and a cramp in her leg. Mr. Trumbull met her in the yard of the livery. He grabbed hold of her horse’s bridle.

“
Did you have a good ride?” he asked.

“
I hadn’t realized how long it’d been since I was on top of a horse.” She lifted her leg over the horn and slid off the saddle. It was a relief to have solid
ground under her feet.

The old man chuckled.

“
I appreciate the loan,” she said. “Next time I get a notion to go anywhere, I’m taking a buggy.”

Mr. Trumbull shook his head. She hadn’t told him where she was going, which was just as well. She didn’t want to explain the whys and wherefores of her visit. Those questions would be on everybody’s lips when they found out where she’d been.

She hobbled back to the saloon. The dry air sucked every drop of moisture from her body. The heat this time of day kept folks off the streets. The mercantile was closed until four o’clock. She’d have to come back later to pick up her package of corsets.

When she pushed through the swinging doors, she saw Gladys flinch and drop something atop the bar. The dolly took one glance at Carly and then hurried up the stairs.

Carly went to the bar to see what had caused Gladys to jump. The girl could be secretive. O’Dell’s letter was still there. It’d been sitting unopened for the better part of a week. She picked it up. Why didn’t she just read the damn thing to the others and get it over with? They all blamed Carly for Big Jim’s poor treatment of O’Dell. She could’ve spoken up when O’Dell needed her, but she didn’t. Who wants a coward for a friend?

After her treatment of O’Dell and with her not answering for so long, who knew when a letter berating her for exactly what she was would come along.

She ripped the letter into tiny pieces and flung them into the sawdust. Some things were better left to the past.

* * * * *

Jake’s conversation with Mack didn’t prove to be valuable. The man had been cleaning out stalls when he heard the shots. All that he’d seen was a cloud of dust. Jed didn’t like the man but didn’t find any reason to think he was lying.

He spent the next hour investigating tracks in the dirt. He came across a horseshoe. The shoe could’ve come from the nag Carly borrowed from the livery. He’d ask Mr. Trumbull when he returned to town. Then he’d ask the blacksmith if anyone had rode into town on a horse that’d thrown a shoe.

One other thing nagged at him. Maybe it was nothing, but how had Carly known there was more than one killer? She’d specifically asked him if the Crowley girls had recognized the
hombres
—plural.

How had she known or had it only been a lucky guess? He didn’t recall the wrangler who’d rode into town with the news Crowley had been shot mentioning how many killers there were.

The coroner arrived with his wagon. Jed helped him load the body into the back, adjusting the sheet to cover Mr. Crowley completely, as if in death the man needed privacy. Both of them said a quiet prayer for the poor man’s soul. Mack didn’t show—too humiliated by Kate’s sharp rebuke or too ornery, Jed couldn’t say.

“
I’ll be leaving you now,” Jed told the girls. “You want me to send someone out from town to stay with you?”

“
That won’t be necessary,” Kate replied crisply.

“
Won’t be any trouble.” Genuine worry prompted the offer. Those two men who’d shot their father could come back—although he doubted they would—and they’d have no protection.

Kate planted her hands on her hips. “We’ll manage.”

“
I don’t think those men will return.” Jed shifted his feet. “They got what they came for.”

“
We put Father’s loaded Winchester by the door,” Jolie said. “We both know how to use it if the killers return.”

Jed tipped his hat. He’d no doubt at all they could handle a weapon and wouldn’t be shy to use it. But two men bent on killing would be more than they bargained for.

Of course, they had Mack to defend them. Jed huffed. The son of a bitch would be, no doubt, useless in a fight.

He bid the Crowley girls farewell. He had two murderers to catch.

Carly returned to the mercantile to pick up her package. Mr. Finney guessed right away where she’d gone. He’d sold her the basket of dry goods.

“
Does Jed know who the murderer is?” he asked as he set the bundle on top of the counter.

Carly shook her head and kept tight lipped about what she’d seen out at the Crowley ranch. She didn’t want to talk about a man killed in cold blood and two daughters left grieving.

“
I imagine those two girls will go back East where they belong.”

Carly scoffed. If they didn’t, what choices were open to them? The ranch didn’t look prosperous and that foreman of theirs would be gone by the end of the week. Those girls seemed scared. Did they understand how close they were to becoming saloon dollies? If they had family, then that’s where they belonged. Perhaps her life would have been different if she’d had a family to turn to. As a businesswoman, Carly picked up on the girls’ curvy figures and pretty faces, but she didn’t want this life for them. And truth be told, it was partly her fault their pa was dead. She’d known those boys were up to no good, that they were after blood, and she did nothing.

“
I’m sure I don’t know,” she told Mr. Finney. She grasped her large package awkwardly in her arms. “If you’ll excuse me, my ladies are waiting for these new corsets.”

Mr. Finney colored up and coughed.

Carly left him to his embarrassment. She knew the entire town would be talking about the murder and most would pay their calls in the next day or two to comfort those girls.

Carly was glad Jed was there to protect them until arrangements could be made to send them to relatives. He struck her as the kind of man who would leave no stone unturned. Would he ask her what she knew? What would she tell him?

Just thinking about all of this brought on a fierce headache.

The Lonesome was nearly empty at this time of day. Alvin wasn’t at his usual place behind the bar. Four drovers played cards at a table in the corner. From the smell of them, they’d been on the trail for some time. Their glasses were empty. She put her package on the bar and picked up a bottle of whisky.

“
You boys look thirsty,” she said. She filled their glasses, noticing how her hands shook. Damn. She was going through withdrawal from the elixir.

One of them glanced up from his cards. “Howdy, Miss Carly.”

Another one grabbed her wrist. She pulled away. “Aw, come on, darlin’. This cowpoke needs a little loving.”

“
Sorry boys but I’ve work to do.” She sashayed over to the bar and picked up her package.

“
Maybe later?” he asked.

She shot him a sultry smile. “Only if you behave like a gentleman.”
And have a bath.
If she thought they’d cooperate, she’d have every cowpoke bathe before hopping into the sack.

“
In bed, I can be anything you want.” The others slapped him on the back and laughed.

Carly climbed the stairs on shaky knees. She was barely to her room when she collapsed, her stomach cramping something fierce.

“
No,” she croaked, and managed to crawl to her bed. Sweat broke out over her whole body, and yet she was cold.

Ester rushed in, clucking her tongue. “I warned the sheriff. I did. Told him not to mess with your medicine.” She swiped a cold, wet cloth on Carly’s forehead. “Now you’re gonna be sick for sure.”

And she was. Carly leaned over and vomited into the waiting chamber pot until she was a limp, cramping mess.

She wanted to die. The only thing that could save her was the elixir. Damn Jed for taking it away!

* * * * *

It was nearly suppertime two days later when Carly finally felt she could muster up the gumption to get out of bed. She hoped Ester had made some soup. A good meal might calm her nerves a bit. Except Carly didn’t have much of an appetite for victuals, but a powerful yearning for some of Dr. Baxter’s Eight-Day Elixir. Food would have to quell the thirst tonight. Her hands shook and her head pounded. She hated the feeling she got when the elixir left her body. At least the sweats and cramps had stopped. She’d been no good to anyone the past couple of days.

She swiped a shot of whiskey, letting the sour liquid burn down her throat. The stuff did nothing that the opium-laced elixir could do, but she hoped it would suffice. When Alvin offered her up another shot, she shook her head. As much as she wanted to, she really had no taste for liquor. Only Dr. Baxter’s would do.

When would the doc return to Tucson? He surely was taking his sweet time making his deliveries. She grew impatient with his absence—the headaches were coming on stronger. She couldn’t go on much longer with no elixir in her blood.