The Rancher (40 page)

“Thanks, Mr. McCallister, but I have to be getting home after church today.  Folks have been delivering their pies and confections to my ranch all morning.  We’re hosting this Sunday’s tea.”

“Ah, well.  We’ll discuss this sending away business later,” Clay said with a smile.  “Church may just prove to be real interestin’ today,” he said, ushering the ladies out the door.

“The Lord.  Is. Our. Rock,” the new preacher shouted out to the congregation as he pounded his fist on the pulpit.  “He is our refuge.  Who saves us.  From our enemies.”

Reverend Harris raised his arms, hisface upturned, and praised God.   Morethan a few heads turned when the string oflate comers filed into the back of the

chapel.

“Where’s Raine?” Lily asked Abby in quiet tones.

“He and Rafe wanted to get a few of his outlaw depictions up before church was

over.   They’ll be here soon.”   Abby squeezed Lily’s hand with understanding.

The last bench, at the very back of the church,   had   a   few   patrons   sitting

interspersed along the row, with Mrs. Hutchinson sitting on the end.  Clay stood at the edge of the pew, bent over, and whispered   something   in   Mrs. Hutchinson’s ear.   She turned around in her seat and when she locked eyes with Abby, she stood up and motioned all of them to join her on the bench.

Most of the pews were full for today’s sermon and Abby guessed it was because the preacher was new to these parts and folks wanted a look.  The entire front row comprised young ladies of marriageable age, vying for his attention.

When the preacher looked down over the congregation and saw the small entourage that came with her, his face went white and his confident, even theatrical demeanor abandoned him. His

voice cracked.

“Mrs. Patterson will now lead us in

singing
 
Rock of Ages
,” he said, gathering the papers and bible from the podium and then he stepped down to sit on the front

row.

The robust woman stood up, herhusband giving her a little push off theseat, and turned around to face theparishioners.

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,” thefamiliar words filled the chapel.

A rich deep voice resonated next toher.  Cole’s voice rang clear as he sang. “Let me hide myself in thee.”

Abby smiled and sat up taller in herseat.  She was used to her father’s singing,but if not for the words, it was oftendifficult to make out the tune.

Cole reached over and tucked hisfingers into Abby’s closed palm.

Raine and Rafe slid on the bench next tothem at the beginning of the second verseand Cole’s voice was joined by two more,equally as strong. Abby’d never heardharmony blend quite like it before.  Halfthe congregation quit singing and twistedin their seats to look at the men seated next

to her.  It was clear the Redbourne men were accustomed to singing together. Even Mrs. Patterson barely mouthed the words.

When they finished the last verse, the chapel was silent. Then, a whisper.  Then, two. Within moments, the entire group was a buzz and moving about.

Abby glanced up to see Mrs. Patterson making her way toward the back bench.  She groaned inwardly.   Abby really

couldn’t stand the overbearing, busybody of a woman who was waving at her, but she plastered on a fake smile and waved back.

“Abby,” Mrs. Patterson took her by the arm, her ample bosom pushed up against Abby’s shoulder. Abby fingered the pistol she still had hidden in her skirts.

”Abby dear, we’d love for you to join us for tea.” She squeezed Abby’s arm and turned to walk away.   Then, as if in afterthought added, “And bring all of your handsome guests.   You must introduce them to all of us.”

As soon as the woman had gone, Abby’s smile turned flat.   What adifference wearing a dress and showingup with a group of fine-looking menmade.   She’d   never   even   been

acknowledged at church before, let alone invited to tea.  She had to admit, it was what she’d hoped for when she’d put on the dress that morning.   Getting to that party was vital.

The men had planned to head out to the Grayson place for a meeting and she hoped she could get them to drop her off at Lily’s on the way.   She’d worry about getting home later.

With her trusty little pistol hidden in her dress, what could go wrong?

“The good reverend is gone. Have you seen him?”  Rafe scanned the remnants of the congregation.

“He’s probably already headed up the hill.  You really think—“

“Mr. Harris is my bounty. Harrison Beckett,” Rafe affirmed.

“Let me see that sketch again,” Cole asked.

Rafe pulled the drawing out of hispocket and handed it to Cole.

He   studied   it   for   a   moment,

unconvinced.  He imagined the man with shorter hair and a bead of sweat dripping off his forehead.  His eyes opened wide. “It is him.”

They exchanged looks.

Rafe grabbed the paper from Cole’shands. “Which way?”

Cole pointed his brother up themountain.

“Wait,   Rafe.”   Cole   gripped   his

brother’s arm.   “If Mr. Harris isn’t the

preacher, then...”

“We’ll worry about that after I catch

him.” Rafe left.

Cole glanced over at Abby who was indeep conversation with her father.   Hesmiled.  The topaz dress suited her. Hewalked toward them.

“Abby, you haven’t been to a tea since

“

—

“I know papa,” she cut him off. “And I think it’s about time.  Don’t you?”

Clay looked to Cole in silent exchange.

Cole scrunched his eyebrows, not understanding what Clay needed from him.

“Papa, this is ridiculous.”

“It’s not my call anymore, Abs.  You should talk to your husband.”

Cole cleared his throat.

Slowly, she pivoted on one foot until she stared Cole in the face.  She tilted her

head and smiled, taking one step closer.  She reached out a hand to play with one of the buttons on the front of Cole’s shirt.  She looked up at him with a coy look on her face. “Please?” She bit her bottom lip.

Boy, she’d been practicing.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Cole narrowed his eyes at her, searching.  She was definitely up to something, but what?

“No.” He wasn’t even sure what he was

saying no to.

The smile fell from her face and a

glower replaced it.  “Since when has it been dangerous to attend a Sunday afternoon tea?” she retorted.

Ah, the tea.

“Since
 
you
 
started attending them.  Youhave quite the knack for finding trouble,

my dear.”

“Papa?” she questioned impatiently, looking back at her father.

“You made your bed, little girl...” he responded.

She mumbled something under her breath.  Her head shot up, her eyes alight.

“Mr. Campbell will be there.   Mr. Carson too.   Didn’t you want to speak with them as well as Mr. Grayson about the rustlers?”

She’d resorted to logic.  Smart move. He should really tell her about whatthey’d just learned about Mr. Harris.

It can wait,
 
he decided.

Cole flexed his jaw. “Very well.”

Chapter Twenty

“It’s time to finish this once and for all.” A cold, scratchy voice came from the corner of the room.  Aging fingers played with the black curtains hanging over the dusty windows behind a large captain’s desk. “It couldn’t have come together any better than this.  I knew that getting rid of that Johansson boy would bring Cole Redbourne here to Silver Falls. It took

longer than I’d expected, but he’s here.”

The only sliver of light coming into the room cast a yellow outline around the woman seated in the high back chair facing the south wall, her face and body nothing but shadows in the darkness.

“What about Abby?” the question came

from the darkness.

“A minor detail that will work itself out,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand.  “I have collected more than a dozen

deeds and with yours and Zed’s, I will have enough of a dowry no Redbourne man would balk at.   I’ve sent for my daughter.  Once  she   arrives,   Cole Redbourne will forget all about his new bride.  I will not let that little chit take

away from my MaryBeth what Leah Deardon took from me.” Bitterness laced

her words as she spat out the last woman’s name.

Then, silence.

His eyes finally started to adjust to the darkness.

Voices in the hallway carried in through

the study doors.   People had begun to arrive for Sunday tea.

“Is everything in place?” The woman asked, dropping the curtain.

“Yes,   madam.”   Henry   Campbell stepped forward, the light cracking across his sunken features.

“And Spencer?”

“Awaiting our signal.”

“Very well.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come here, boy.  Step into the light and let me look at you.”  She directed her attention to where he sat on

the edge of an overstuffed fainting couch on the opposite side of the room.

He stepped forward.

“Have they begun to suspect you yet, boy?” He still was having trouble making out her face.

“I don’t think so.” His voice cracked. “They’ve   already  found  and  buried Caleb.”

“A fool and his conscience,” she snorted.  “He never should have tried to

go back on our agreement. Threatened to tell Clay everything. I couldn’t very well let that happen now, could I?  It would have ruined all that I’ve worked for. That

we’ve worked for,” she corrected.

While some part of the youth was grateful to her for getting him out of the Colorado Institution for Boys, she scared him.  More than a little.  She’d offered

him more money than he’d ever see in his lifetime, in return for his services.

At first, his tasks had been easy—get a job on the SilverHawk, let the horses out, cut some ropes. He hadn’t expected Caleb

to catch him dumping the wagonload of supplies, and had been surprised that the old hand was working with her too.  Even though his conscience had told him otherwise, he’d convinced himself these little things were harmless in the long run and weren’t really hurting anybody.  But when he’d discovered that the boss had arranged for McCallister’s foreman to be killed, it had already been too late.