The Lone Rancher (16 page)

Quin had been too busy planning a double funeral and suffering from overwhelming grief, guilt and torment. Not to mention the distraction and anguish he had suffered when his family walked out when he had needed them most. He had been too upset to ask the right questions about the accident.

Quin glanced down at Boston, who knelt in front of him to help him with his boots. Only one person had stood
up
for him,
with
him and
because
of him in the past two years, he reminded himself again. It was this feisty, quick-minded firebrand who he was desperate to protect from involvement in this recent murder. If something happened to Boston, Quin could never forgive himself.

Hell, he was having enough trouble forgiving himself for failing his parents, especially now that he suspected they had been victims of an attack he might have prevented if he'd been home as he should have been.

Same as his brothers should have been around to
lend a hand that fateful day,
he thought resentfully. They were as guilty of neglect as he was and they had been a helluva lot closer to home.

When Boston stood in front of him, Quin's tormented thoughts trailed off and he grasped her hand to detain her. “Promise me you'll keep quiet about following me to the springs last night,” he demanded.

“I am not letting you rot in jail,” she stated resolutely. “You need to be home recuperating.”

He squeezed her hand and managed a faint smile as he rose slowly to his feet, then waited for the room to stop spinning around him.
“Promise me,”
he repeated emphatically. “I'll never ask anything else of you if you'll do this, Boston.”

She exhaled audibly, then regarded him from beneath a long fringe of black lashes. Eventually she bobbed her head, causing the thick chestnut-colored braid to ripple over her shoulder. “All right, but you have only one day to convince Marshal Hobbs that he needs to look elsewhere for a murderer.”

“I'm sure I can talk sense into him, man to man, when you aren't gnawing on his ear and his ankles,” Quin said teasingly.

Boston rolled her eyes as she assisted him across the room. “Men,” she said, then sniffed.

Quin wasn't sure what that meant but he was pretty sure it wasn't a compliment.

 

By the time Quin reached town, he had a splitting headache. He noticed the crowd gathering around the jail, as if Hobbs had arrested the worst offender on the Most Wanted list. Heavens above! Whoever was spew
ing gossip to ruin the Cahill reputation and fuel superstitious nonsense about a curse was doing a bang-up job.

Quin growled under his breath when he saw Preston Van Slyck standing in front of the bank, wearing a ridiculing smile. Whether or not that bastard had anything to do with the would-be informant's death, he was enjoying Quin's public humiliation.

Just as Preston had delighted in spreading scandal about Leanna at the party. Damn him.

Somebody should string up Preston Van Slyck on general principles, Quin mused as he dismounted—and clung to his horse for support. Preston was a womanizer of the worst sort and a sorry excuse for a man. Yep, thought Quin, that “gentleman” deserved to be the honored guest at a necktie party. Unfortunately,
Quin
was the one under arrest for murder and facing the possibility of a lynching.

He grimaced when he met the accusing stares of townsfolk who apparently had been swayed by gossip. The public consensus was that he deserved to suffer. He wondered if folks would be mollified if they knew how lousy he felt already.

“Come on, Cahill,” Marshal Hobbs prompted as he urged Quin up the steps to the pinewood office. Then he turned to the crowd gathered on Town Square. “Go on about your business and let me do my job.”

Serenaded by mumbling and grumbling from the crowd of saddle tramps, tracklayers and other ne'er-do-wells from the wrong side of the tracks, Quin wobbled into the office. He wasn't looking forward to camping out on the lumpy cot behind bars. The sooner he con
vinced Hobbs he was barking up the wrong tree, the better.

Quin removed his hat and directed the marshal's attention to the stitches on the back of his head. “I didn't get these brain-scrambling blows from a dead man,” he insisted. “I was hunkered over the would-be informant and I was attacked from my blind side.”

Hobbs spared a cursory glance at the injury as he marched Quin across the office to the back room. He opened the cell door, then gestured for Quin to enter. “How am I supposed to know if the man at the springs clubbed
you,
then tried to make a getaway with the money before
you
shot him in the back?”

“Then I would be claiming self-defense against a brutal attack,” Quin said reasonably. “That is not what happened.”

Hobbs narrowed his dark eyes as he shut the barred door with a clank. “Did you shoot the man you hired to set the fire to shut him up permanently? Was he trying to blackmail you?”

“For God's sake, Hobbs, you heard what Boston, er, Adrianna said. Lightning started the fire at her ranch.”

Hobbs ambled back to his office to hang his bowler hat on the hook by the door. Then he strode to the potbelly stove to pour himself a cup of coffee. He didn't offer Quin a cup. Apparently, prisoners received no kindness whatsoever.

“What do you know about the dead man at Phantom Springs?” the marshal asked intently as he stood in the doorway.

“I never saw him until the night of Rosa and Lucas's wedding celebration. He brushed past me on his way to
the refreshment table but he didn't speak or try to draw my attention. Adrianna remembers him vaguely, as well. But we have no idea who he is…was.”

“Yet you claim he knew something about the supposed deaths of your parents?” Hobbs asked skeptically, then sipped his coffee. “Sorry, Cahill, but too many things are going on around here and most of them have to do with you, one way or another. If you are lying to me about this unidentified dead man you are headed straight to court for trial.”

Quin tried not to lose his temper but it was damn hard when he felt miserable and frustrated—to the extreme. Never in his life had he had to work so hard to be believed. These days, his name and reputation counted for nothing and a constant fog of suspicion surrounded him. And damn it, just when he thought he had begun to heal from the remorse and anguish of two years past and move on with his life, another obstacle stood in his path.

Too bad his family wasn't around to help him bear the burden and uncover the truth, he thought resentfully. His one champion was Boston, and he didn't want her sucked into the vortex of this exasperating turmoil.

Quin sighed heavily. “Look, Hobbs, I have no reason to lie. I received the note last night and Adrianna and Hiram Butler saw it. They tried to persuade me not to go alone to that rendezvous site with money in hand. They thought I was walking into a trap. Turns out they were right.”

Hobbs came to stand by the cell. “Where is the note?”

“At home.”

“And the money? How much money are we discussing?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

“Two thousand dollars?”
Hobbs hooted. “Where's the money now? Did you exchange it for
supposed
information?”

His skeptical comment prompted Quin to clench his fists around the iron bars. “Whoever hit me from behind must have taken it. As a precaution, I left it in my saddlebags and went to meet the man who was
dead
when I arrived.”

“But you didn't see this second supposed assailant?” Hobbs questioned doubtfully.

“No. When I tried to turn on him after he delivered the first blow to the back of my head he hit me a second time. I blacked out.” Quin waited a beat and decided to twist the truth, in hopes of protecting Boston and convincing Hobbs to believe his side of the story. “I didn't hear the shot being fired from my pistol while I was unconscious. I don't know who fired at whom or why. I came to in time to hear three riders racing away in three different directions.”

Hobbs glanced up with sudden interest. “
Three
men? They rode off in
three
different directions?”

Quin bobbed his aching head. “It was a gang, obviously.”

Hobbs took several swallows of coffee, frowned pensively, then set aside the cup. “I'd better check the site again and bring in the body. I also want to see this supposed note you received. I'll swing by to question Adrianna and Butler.”

“And I'd like to see the note
you
received about the
dead man,” Quin insisted. “I wonder if the handwriting matches.”

Hobbs strode to his desk, then returned with the note.

Quin squinted at the handwriting. “It doesn't look the same. One of the other gang members must have written it.”

Hobbs sent him another dubious glance, then replaced the note in his desk drawer. He craned his neck around the corner to the room with the cells. “Sit tight, Cahill. I'm locking up this office while I investigate.”

Quin plunked down on the cot to rest. So much for the man-to-man discussion to clear his name quickly. It looked as if he would be sleeping off this hellish headache on a lumpy cot in jail.

He wondered if his brothers and sister would delight in knowing Quin was in misery. They, like some of the spiteful locals who chose to believe the gossip and scandal, probably thought Quin was exactly where he belonged. As for the envious and resentful folks hereabout, they probably wanted him to sit here and rot.

A
fter Cahill and Hobbs left, Adrianna rode to her ranch. She walked into the foyer of her house and took a whiff of the air. Although she had opened all the windows after the rainstorm doused the fire, a hint of smoke still clung to the fabric of the furniture and drapes.

Not enough to use as an excuse to stay with Quin much longer, she mused as she ascended the staircase. Tonight she would be in his bed—without him. Since Quin hadn't returned home, she presumed he hadn't convinced Marshal Hobbs of innocence in the unidentified man's death. Surely someone around town knew who he was. If no one claimed to know him, did that suggest he knew nothing about Ruby and Earl Cahill's wagon wreck and he was attempting to extort money?

Adrianna expelled an exasperated breath as she stared out the upstairs window. Her troubled thoughts trailed off when she noticed the brown saddle horse with three white stockings grazing in her pasture with the remuda. She snapped to attention. That was the very
same horse she had commandeered the previous night to follow Quin when he rode to Phantom Springs—and received two knots on his hard head and become a murder suspect.

Who had tethered that horse in front of Quin's bunkhouse one night and why was it grazing in her pasture this afternoon? And where was the strawberry roan horse that had been tethered beside it?

Adrianna lurched toward the door. Too many unexplainable and suspicious incidents were occurring at her ranch and the 4C. Someone was exploiting the rumors of her personal feud and the supposed Cahill Curse to explain rustling, butchering and arson. That someone was making a profit from the ranch losses. Adrianna was determined to find out who that someone was.

She flew down the steps and breezed out the door to take a head count of the cowhands in charge of the chores at headquarters. Everyone who was supposed to be on the premises appeared to be working. As for the hired hands in charge of riding fences and checking herds, Adrianna couldn't say if they were on duty. But she was going to ride around the pastures to make certain her cowboys were doing what they were supposed to be doing.

Furthermore, she wasn't going to voice any suspicions to anyone except Cahill because she wasn't sure whom she could trust. Her disgruntled ex-foreman was only goodness knew where. Even her new foreman wasn't exempt from suspicion, she mused as she strode off swiftly to retrieve Buckshot. Rocky Rhodes was familiar with her ranch and with the 4C, she reminded
herself warily. He had access to both places and might be making extra money for himself.

Rocky seemed to be an honest man but Adrianna had encountered several charlatans in her time. She wasn't looking past the possible motives of anyone in her quest to ferret out the rustlers, arsonists and murderers.

“Where ya headed, Miz McKnight?”

Speak of the devil, Adrianna thought when she heard Rocky's drawling voice behind her. She pasted on a pleasant smile, then pivoted to face the blond-haired, blue-eyed foreman. “I'm going to ride out and check the herds.”

“Want some company?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine.” She tossed him a casual smile that concealed her wary suspicion.

“Sure was a good party you hosted for Rosa and Lucas.” He glanced toward the charred remains of her new house addition. “Too bad that fire spoiled the evening.”

Adrianna tried to recall if she had seen Rocky in town before he had showed up to help douse the fire. To be honest, she had been so busy with party arrangements and meeting new acquaintances that she couldn't recall seeing Rocky or any other cowhands from her ranch. She didn't know who'd had the night off and who had remained behind.

She wondered if she was suffering paranoia, wondered if she could trust anyone but Cahill and her adopted family. With all that was going on, she was mistrustful of everyone because she didn't know who was out to get her and Cahill—and why.

Adrianna rode off to see if other cattle had been cor
ralled in the box canyon where she and Rock had found part of the stolen herd.

Several hours later, Adrianna returned to 4C, disappointed that her extended ride had turned up nothing. She still didn't know who on her ranch favored the horse she had commandeered from Quin's bunkhouse. But she was going to keep a watchful eye, she vowed. That horse had been out of place. Rocky could have ridden over to visit his former coworkers at 4C, she supposed, but she wasn't going to fire out questions to make hired hands cautious until she acquired more facts.

Nevertheless, she had the niggling feeling something was going on behind the scenes at both ranches. She would be discreet, but she was going to track down the rustlers, arsonists and murderers—somehow or other.

Leaving Buckshot for Skeeter Gregory, Quin's right-hand man, to unsaddle, she headed for the house. The scent of Elda's delicious meal met her at the front door, reminding her that she had skipped lunch. She was on her way to the kitchen when Butler flagged her down and directed her into Quin's office.

“Is he back yet?” she asked hopefully. He hadn't been gone a full day and she missed him terribly.

Butler shook his head. “No, but Marshal Hobbs was here earlier. He wanted to see the note Quin received from the supposed informant.”

“Did Hobbs take it with him as evidence?”

“No, because I didn't give it to him.” Butler pulled the missive from the pocket of his vest.

Adrianna frowned, bemused. “Why not?”

“Because this is the only conclusive evidence we have that Cahill was lured to Phantom Springs,” he
replied. “We are keeping it, in case we have to consult a lawyer to defend Cahill in court.”

Adrianna walked over to give Butler a hug. “You are brilliant, Hiram. Thank you.”

He hugged her back. “You do not pay me to be stupid…but I have to ask if you'd prefer to be rid of Cahill.”

She reared back in his arms to meet his searching hazel-eyed gaze. She had the inescapable feeling Butler knew she had become intimate with Cahill. He was asking the silent question about whether Quin was like the annoying, unwanted suitors from her past.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed, she stared at the air over his left shoulder. “I like Cahill the way you like Beatrice,” she admitted quietly.

Butler nodded somberly. “I thought so. But you should know that if he hurts you, he will pay dearly.”

She chuckled. “Elda will poison his food?”

Butler grinned. “For starters. Then Bea will wallop him a few times with her broom and dustpan and I will doctor his financial ledgers to make him look corrupt. The scandal circulating now will be child's play in comparison.”

“If he isn't home by bedtime I'm barnstorming the marshal's office first thing in the morning,” she insisted on the way to the dining room. “I'm taking that note as evidence but I won't turn it over to Hobbs. Smoking gun aside, Cahill wouldn't shoot a man in the back and I know it. I suspect one of the three men at the springs set him up. I will
refuse
to leave the office until Hobbs agrees with my conclusions.”

Butler snickered. “I pity the marshal. He'll likely
release Cahill, if only to get you out of his hair and stop you from barking in his ear, Addie K.”

“I'm counting on it,” Adrianna murmured before she sat down to Elda's mouthwatering meal—and wondered what jailers served their prisoners for supper in Ca-Cross.

 

Early the next morning Adrianna rode into town with the note Quin had received. Her first stop was Rosa's Boutique, which sat across the square from the marshal's office. When she entered the shop, Rosa poked her silver-blond head around the corner of the sewing room. A concerned frown replaced her usual smile.

“Glad you're here, Addie K. I've been worried about Quin.” She rushed forward to clasp Adrianna's hands in her own. “I went to check on him twice yesterday but Marshal Hobbs had the place locked up tight while he was investigating. Rumors about Quin killing a man hired to start the fire at your house are flying all over town.”

“Blast it, people can be so gullible and foolish. Why are they so quick to believe the worst?” Adrianna muttered under her breath. “Whoever killed that man at Phantom Springs set up Quin. He received a message suggesting his parents' deaths weren't accidental.”

Rosa's lavender-colored eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “What? You mean it was murder? Heavens!”

“We don't know if the wreck resulted from a robbery gone bad or if the note Cahill received was an extortion attempt. The would-be informant was dead when Cahill arrived.”

“It does make you wonder, when it's been two years since the incident,” Rosa said pensively.

“Personally, I think this is an attempt to swindle money from Cahill, same as the horses and cattle stolen from both our ranches. This time Quin received two knots on his head while trying to seek the truth. Plus, the extortion money was taken while Quin was unconscious.”

Rosa flung up her arms. “What the blazes is going on around here? Rumors are buzzing about Quin committing murder and about his sister raising her illegitimate child while working as a… Well, you know. Why would anyone want to drag the Cahill name through the mud?”

Adrianna shrugged. “I suppose for the same reason the Greers and McKnights were accused of all sorts of unethical corruption to explain our families' business success.”

Rosa nodded, disgruntled. “Ah, yes, the backstabbers of the world spend more time slandering others who are more fortunate than devising ways to ensure their own prosperity.”

Adrianna glanced sideways to see a crowd gathering on the square. “Uh-oh, that doesn't bode well for Quin.”

“Just what we need,” Rosa grumbled. “The drunken mob spouting threats of hanging the town founder.”

Adrianna swallowed hard at the disturbing prospect. “I need to talk to the marshal…now.”

“Do you need Lucas and me as character witnesses for Quin?” Rosa asked.

“Thanks, but I hope it won't come to that.”

Adrianna spun on her heel, then jogged across the square. She veered around the crowd of scraggly-
looking men from Wrong Side who were discussing when and where to lynch Cahill. She glanced at the cocky Preston Van Slyck, who was propped against the supporting beam of the bank, grinning from ear to ear.

Hmm,
she thought suspiciously.
I wonder who egged on the local riffraff to form a spiteful mob?

Adrianna couldn't explain a connection between Preston and the unidentified dead man, but she knew Preston's type. The banker's son was ecstatic when others were miserable, especially if he felt he'd been wronged and wanted to enjoy spiteful revenge. If Leanna Cahill had rejected Preston, he would delight in getting even—every way possible.

Her thoughts scattered as she scurried across the boardwalk to reach the marshal's pinewood office before the mob decided it was a grand day for a necktie party. She burst inside to see Hobbs sipping coffee. His booted feet were stacked on the corner of his scarred desk. Her gaze flew immediately to the open door leading to the cells. Quin craned his neck around the corner. He looked rather the worse for wear. There were dark circles under his eyes and strained lines bracketed his mouth.

Her temper boiled in nothing flat and she wheeled toward the marshal to slap down the missive on his desk. “Here's proof enough that Cahill was lured to Phantom Springs and set up to take blame for the murder.”

Hobbs put his feet on the floor, then assessed the note. “It says nothing about being set up for murder,” he remarked caustically. “Oh, wait, there it is between the lines.”

When he tried to pick up the note, Adrianna snatched it away and tucked it in the pocket of her breeches.
“This evidence will be in our lawyer's possession for safe keeping. Now where is the note
you
supposedly received?” she countered in the same sarcastic tone he'd used on her.

His dark eyes glittered. “I don't have to show you evidence. The judge will review it in court.”

Adrianna wanted to strangle the hard-nosed, by-the-book lawman who apparently didn't believe in benefit of the doubt. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned down to get right in his face. “Did you find evidence of three other horses at the murder scene?” she demanded sharply.

“No,” he snapped at her. “Parts of that area are piles of rock and pebbles. I did find a horse I assume belonged to the dead man. I used it to cart the body to the undertaker.” He tried to stare her down, but she refused to be intimidated. “Now why don't you run along, Miz McKnight. I need to write up my report.”

Adrianna glanced out the window to see the mob moving in the direction of the jail. She was angry and desperate. She needed Hobbs's cooperation—and fast.

“There is no need to write a report because you don't have the dead man's murderer in custody,” she said through gritted teeth. “You saw the note we received and there are two witnesses to verify its existence as the reason Cahill went to the rendezvous site.”

When Hobbs glared at her, then opened his mouth to interject a comment, Adrianna slapped her hand against his desk to demand his full attention. “I know for a fact there were three riders that left Phantom Springs that night.”

“Damn it, Boston!” Quin snapped from the cell room.
He bounded to his feet, then clamped his fists around the iron bars. “Leave it alone.”

Hobbs swiveled his dark head toward the cell. “You said
you
heard them when you came to.”

“We
both
heard them,” Quin insisted.

Adrianna realized Cahill must have felt the need to argue the point, in hopes of gaining his freedom and protecting her. That was fine, well and noble, but unnecessary.

“You were there?” Hobbs demanded intently.

“That's right,” she declared. “I followed Cahill be cause I thought he was riding into a trap. Before I could move in closer, I heard the shot, then I saw three men ride off in three different directions.”