Sam's Legacy Page 10

  “Tell them to be ready next Saturday, nothing more. I don’t want anyone anticipating what’s expected. I’ll give them the orders Friday night.” Eplett inched back, the same as Parry, and pushed himself up. “Have them pack everything. We won’t be returning to camp.” He walked to his horse, then glanced over his shoulder. “And no drinking the night before. I need everyone sober.”

  Conviction

  “Doc Tilden says he’s healed enough for the trial. Do you want me to send word to San Francisco?” Deputy Nate Hollis leaned against the wall separating the front of the jail from the cells, his eyes as clear as Brodie could remember.

  “Aye, Nate. I’d appreciate it. The last word was to expect the judge in another week.” Brodie leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, letting out a groan.

  “It’s late. Why don’t you go home to Maggie and a hot supper? I’ll keep watch on the prisoner.”

  Brodie had worked long days for weeks, taking Sundays off for the MacLaren family supper. The way Nate had been acting the last few months, Brodie hadn’t been comfortable leaving unless Jack was available. Tonight, Jack had plans for supper with Reverend Andrews. With Sam gone, it would be the first time Nate would be the sole deputy on duty.

  He thought of Maggie, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She’d be thrilled to have him home for supper instead of bringing his food, as had become the custom, keeping him company until he’d finished every bite. Pulling out his pocket watch, he figured she wouldn’t have left the house yet. After a couple hours, he’d come back and check on the prisoner—and Nate. Standing, he reached for his hat.

  “I’ll be taking you up on the offer, lad. Jack should be by after supper with the reverend.”

  Nate rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, then walked to one of the chairs and sat down, adjusting himself to accommodate the gun at his side. With a partial left arm, he seldom took the gunbelt off during the day, refusing anyone’s help when offered. Brodie knew pain still plagued him, blaming the loss of his arm for Nate’s erratic behavior.

  No amount of concern breached the deputy’s control on whatever problems he concealed. Nate refused to discuss any of his reasons for coming in late or never leaving his bed at all. If he had been any other man, Brodie would have lost patience months ago. The man’s skill at handling a gun with just one arm, along with his determination and sense of justice, made it hard to give up on him. Besides, he’d become a friend, and a sheriff could never have too many of those.

  “Take your time. I’ve eaten, and the town has been quiet. I know where to find you if something comes up.”

  Brodie studied Nate’s face, noting the weary features, even if the eyes had lost most of their glassy redness. “You don’t want me bringing any of Maggie’s cooking back then?”

  Nate grinned, the first Brodie had seen in a long time. “I’ll never refuse any of Maggie’s cooking.”

  “Aye. I’ll remember that.” Grasping the doorknob, he paused. An unnerving tremor surged up his back, a sense of dread washing over him. Looking at Nate, he shook his head, pushing aside his unease. “Send word if you need me.”

  Closing the door behind him, Brodie looked up and down the original road through Conviction. The street where it all started. It had been over three decades since the town had begun with little fanfare and a great deal of hope. Over time, it had swelled to a thriving riverfront community surrounded by successful ranches and farms, the largest being Circle M, the vast MacLaren spread.

  Turning toward his house at the end of town, Brodie thought of the men who’d terrorized his family at Maloney’s, how all but one had escaped through the back door of the general store. Brodie expected an attempt to free the prisoner. After several weeks, and no indication they’d stayed in the area, he’d begun to breathe a little easier.

  A cheerful shout caught his attention. He looked up to see Maggie hurrying toward him, a basket over one arm. Unmindful of onlookers, she set the basket down, laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Ah, lass. You’re going to have everyone talking.” His smile and warm kiss belied the warning.

  She dropped her arms, a brow lifting as the corners of her mouth tilted up. “As if you care.”

  “Aye, I do care. But I care more about getting you home and feasting on the fine meal you’ve brought me.” Bending, he picked up the basket, wrapping his arm around her waist. Guiding her back down the street, he leaned over to press a kiss on her head, his worries about the prisoner and his companions forgotten in the happiness he found with Maggie.

  Greytown

  Holding Robbie’s hand, Sam settled an arm around his father’s trembling shoulders, watching the retreating coastline as the SS Jefferson steamship traveled out of San Juan del Sur harbor and into the Northern Pacific. It carried far fewer passengers than the captain or crew had anticipated just weeks before.

  Bodies of less than half the drowning victims had been recovered. Susannah Covington hadn’t been among them. A single memorial service took place for those who’d lost loved ones, including those whose final resting place was the turbulent Caribbean Sea.

  They’d almost missed the final journey of survivors overland to San Juan del Sur, where the SS Jefferson had been docked. Rumors had abounded about the ship pulling up anchor, unable to wait any longer for the passengers. It had taken every bit of persuasive skill Sam owned to convince

  Thomas his wife had been lost in the tragic event.

  In front of his father and son, Sam remained strong, making sure they had food and a place to stay until the trek to the Pacific. At night, he lay in bed, pain slicing through him at the death of his mother. At those times, he thought of Jinny. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, letting her warmth flow through him, and never let go.

  “Papa?”

  Sam looked down into wide, questioning eyes, then lowered himself into a crouch. “Yes, Robbie?”

  “Why is Grandfather crying?”

  Brushing hair off Robbie’s forehead, he swallowed the knot in his throat, wanting to appear strong for his son. “He misses your grandmother.”

  Wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck, Robbie rested his head on his father’s shoulder. “I miss her, too.”

  Tightening his grip, Sam fought tears welling in his eyes as guilt washed over him. If he’d been satisfied raising Robbie in Baltimore, his mother would never have been on board the steamer. She would still be alive, and his father would spend his final days on earth with the woman he loved by his side. If only Sam had known the consequences of his decision. Loosening his hold, he pulled back.

  “Grandmother wouldn’t like you being sad for her, son. She loved you very much and wanted you to enjoy your new life.” Sam winced at the deep throbbing in his chest. The loss was too new, much too fresh to deal with in a rational way, yet he had his son and father to consider. They needed him to be tough and steadfast. “We’ll be at our new home in no time. There’ll be other children to play with—”

  Robbie’s eyes lit up. “And a horse. Right, Papa?”

  Despite the pain he couldn’t shake, Sam chuckled. “Yes, son. As soon as we’re settled in our new home, we’ll find you a horse. And I know just who to visit.” His mind skipped to Jinny, renewed hope and a sense of purpose taking hold. By the time they arrived, Brodie would’ve received the letter he’d asked a friend to send from Baltimore, telling him of his return and requesting his job back. He had no doubt Brodie had held the deputy position for him.

  Standing, grasping Robbie’s hand, Sam found himself wondering if Jinny still felt the same, saving her heart only for him.

  Circle M Ranch

  “Ma, are you here?” Heather MacLaren hurried through the downstairs, then bounded up the steps to the second floor. Calling again, she checked the rooms, then let out a frustrated breath.

  “Heather, lass. Are you upstairs?” Audrey stood at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed.

  “Aye,
Ma.” Meeting her at the bottom, Heather gave her mother a hug.

  Audrey stepped back, narrowing her gaze to study her oldest daughter’s face. “Is there something wrong? I didn’t expect you until Sunday supper.”

  “Nae. All is good. I’ve come with news. Is Quinn around?”

  “He and Colin rode north this morning. I expect them back later today.” She slipped an arm through her daughter’s. “I’ll make tea for us, then you’ll tell me what is so important you rode over in the middle of the morning.”

  Heather didn’t protest as Audrey pointed to a chair and made tea, setting a cup in front of her and sitting down.

  “Tell me what has you on fire this morning.”

  Heather chuckled at the phrase her mother had used often when they were younger. “Mrs. Evanston has decided to sell.”

  Audrey’s eyes widened at the news. Over a year before, the widow had hired Heather to help at her ranch, creating tension within the MacLaren family when all of them were needed at Circle M. Looking at her daughter, she had to admit living at the next ranch south had been an excellent change for Heather.

  Before the offer to work for the widow, Heather had struggled with her place in the family. An accomplished rider, excellent shot, and hard worker, she challenged her brothers and male cousins on everything, arguing to the point they’d been forced to tolerate her rather than welcome her help.

  The situation changed somewhat when Caleb Stewart joined them at the ranch. Sparks flew from the instant they met, Heather insisting she couldn’t stand his arrogant attitude. Audrey never accepted the excuse. She believed the reason for their sparring had little to do with his behavior and more to do with emotions Heather kept buried and feelings Caleb chose not to voice. When Heather accepted the offer to work at the Evanston ranch, the rancorous behavior vanished. Sparks now flew only when Caleb joined them for Sunday supper.

  “She wants to sell, does she?” Audrey sipped her tea, considering the news. “Does she have a buyer?”

  Heather shook her head. “Nae, not that she’s mentioned. I know Uncle Ewan and Uncle Ian are always eager to add more land. I thought they’d want to speak with her.”

  Audrey, like the other aunts, Kyla, Lorna, and Gail, knew much more about the business of running a ranch than most women who’d crossed the frontier. Although they worked alongside their husbands, few women held an interest in the revenue and costs. Fewer had more than a passing interest in bankers, lawyers, and cattle buyers.

  “When we purchased the Estrada property with August Fielder, we used a great deal of our cash. We’ll not be wanting to increase our debt.”

  “Perhaps there are other ways to buy her ranch.” Heather gripped her cup with both hands, staring at the contents, not meeting her mother’s gaze.

  Audrey watched her, a slow grin spreading across her face. “There are ways to get what you want, lass. If the family wants the Evanston ranch, I’ve no doubt we’ll have it.” Taking the last sip of tea, she set her cup aside. “Would you want to stay there or come back home?”

  Heather glanced up, the question coming as a surprise. She’d always railed against orders, even those from her deceased father. When he died, she’d taken the anger of the loss out on her brothers and cousins. Mildred Evanston had helped her learn to control the devil within her, although Heather knew she still had a long way to go.

  “I’ll do whatever the family wants.”

  Standing, Audrey placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, looking down at her. “That is a good answer, lass. We’ll see if you truly mean it.”

  Howie Eplett and his men sat huddled around a campfire, doing their best to stay out of the pounding Saturday morning rain. They’d discovered a spot on the Circle M ranch where they could hide. Near a creek, the indent in the hillside provided a small amount of shelter, allowing them to remain undetected by the MacLarens.

  They’d planned to follow the woman and her beau on their regular Saturday ride, taking her hostage, holding her in exchange for Private Terrence Card. The weather forced them to stay put, pushing out the abduction another week. The men didn’t hesitate to voice their objections. Most wanted to ride into Conviction, break the private out of jail, and leave. Eplett refused. There might not be many deputies, but from what he’d seen and learned from his secret trips to town, the men were good shots and vigilant. He knew they’d never get out of town without losing at least one man—a risk he wasn’t prepared to take.

  “We can’t continue to let the men sit around with nothing to do, Captain. They’re talking of leaving, breaking off to head out on their own.” Sergeant Claude Parry sat next to Howie, his arms resting on his legs, his voice low. “They’re talking of going north to Ophir City. It’s about a day’s ride.”

  “I know where it is, Claude,” Howie hissed. “It’s where we planned to go after Conviction.” He tossed the cheroot he’d been smoking on the ground, mumbling a curse. “We can’t leave Card behind.”

  “No one wants to leave him behind. They want to hit the bank, then ride back here. It’s a week before the MacLaren woman and her gentleman friend ride out again.” Leaning back, Claude crossed his arms. “Might be a good idea, Captain. Give the men something to do while we wait to get Card back.”

  Even though the men tried to keep their thoughts amongst themselves, Eplett had heard the rumblings. They had plenty of cash from robbing banks along their route from east to west. He’d marveled at how easy it had been. So easy, they’d tried their luck with stagecoaches. Those hadn’t been as lucrative, and to his way of thinking, were riskier than banks. They’d been cooped up for weeks, waiting for the chance to get Card, and Howie still berated himself for the failed attempt to rob the general store. They had the money for supplies and should’ve purchased what they needed, then robbed the bank. It had turned into a fiasco, one Eplett didn’t care to repeat.

  A trip to Ophir City would alleviate the tension and get the men focused on the reason they’d stayed so long near Conviction. Pulling another cheroot from his pocket, he lit it, taking a deep drag before blowing the smoke out in a thin stream.

  “Tell the men we ride out tomorrow. Afterward, we come back here. No matter the weather next week, we grab the girl and get Card out of jail.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Conviction

  Brodie walked toward the jail, the letter from Sam tucked in his pocket. He’d hoped to hear from him for weeks, and now that he had, he anticipated good news.

  Pushing open the door, his gaze landed on Jack. The youngest deputy had been doing more than his share of night shifts and early mornings, allowing Brodie and Nate to make most of the rounds. This morning, Nate had been assigned the early shift. Poking his head around the corner toward the cells, he let out a sigh.

  “Where’s Nate?”

  Standing, Jack picked up his hat, anticipating Brodie’s request. “Don’t know, Sheriff. I got here right after sunup and didn’t see him. You want me to check the hotel?”

  “Aye. Come back and let me know if you find him.” He hoped Nate had already started his rounds without stopping by the jail first. His gut told him that wasn’t the case.

  “Sure thing, Sheriff.” Nodding, Jack hurried outside, turning in the direction of the Gold Dust.

  Settling into his chair, Brodie pulled the letter from his pocket. Ripping it open, he read quickly, hoping Sam had made the decision to return to Conviction and his job. And possibly Jinny.

  His initial smile froze on his face as he continued reading. Sam had indeed decided to return, but he wouldn’t be alone. He’d be bringing his family. Family? Sam had never mentioned a family, other than his parents. Brodie wondered if he had a wife and children, people he loved and never mentioned. If Sam had led Jinny on, there’d be hell to pay.

  Anger began to swell as he reread the letter, then placed it on his desk. Sam had shown a strong interest in Brodie’s sister, leading her to believe he had feelings for her. He knew Sam had tried to keep his interest in Jinny
a secret, but Brodie had figured it out, confirming it with Maggie, who’d spoken with his sister. Going through their wives was often the only way the MacLaren men learned what was going on in the minds of the women.

  Glancing down, he noticed the date, then read further until his gaze focused on Sam’s expected arrival. The letter must’ve taken much longer to reach Conviction than anticipated as they were already almost two weeks late. Sam also mentioned August Fielder finding a house with at least three bedrooms. A bachelor wouldn’t need such a large place.

  Running his hands through his hair, he struggled with what to do with the news. Although she’d do her best to hide it, Jinny would be heartsick to learn Sam hadn’t been truthful. The letter caused a dilemma. How could he trust a deputy who hadn’t been honest? He was already dealing with Nate, who refused to discuss his change in behavior. So far, he hadn’t done anything illegal or unbefitting a deputy, forcing Brodie to take away his badge.

  Sam had created perhaps a bigger injustice—to Jinny.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brodie considered what to do. Again, he stared at the letter, August Fielder’s name drawing his attention. He needed to talk with him. Before he spoke with Jinny or anyone else, Brodie wanted to learn as much as he could about Sam’s return, and the family he’d kept hidden.

  Off the Coast of California

  “How much longer, Papa?” Robbie swiped at the saltwater splashing his face as the steamer made its way through the swells toward San Francisco.

  “Not much longer, son. The captain says we should reach the harbor this afternoon.” Sam, his father, and Robbie had been watching the journey from amidships on the starboard side.

  Sam gripped the rail with both hands, enjoying the first sunshine they’d had in days. He hadn’t confined himself or Robbie below deck, but the cold chill kept them bundled up, even in the middle of summer. Once they reached shore and traveled to Conviction, their bulky clothes could be packed away, hopefully for months.