Sam's Legacy Read online

  Glancing to his side, he watched his father stare straight ahead, one hand wrapped around Robbie’s much smaller one. To Sam’s relief, he’d improved a little each day as the threads of acceptance took hold. Thomas had mentioned he was glad he didn’t have to return to Baltimore alone, walking into an empty house with so many memories. For Sam, it affirmed continuing to Conviction might be what they needed.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed three men approaching, stopping several feet away. The same three he’d seen for several days. They never got too close, didn’t speak to him, but watched his movements. Their intense scrutiny unsettled him. He guessed they traveled in steerage with the other passengers who, for various reasons, were unable to book a cabin. They had the look of men accustomed to working the docks, yet he knew they weren’t part of the crew. And they hadn’t been passengers on the SS Lincoln, which sank outside Greytown.

  “Is something wrong, Samuel?” His father stared at him with eyes less haunted than the day before.

  Keeping the men in sight, Sam shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, Father. Do you have all your possessions together for when we dock?”

  A bitter laugh escaped Thomas’s lips. “There isn’t much to pack. As with everyone else, most of my belongings were lost or ruined.” He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out the watch Susannah had given him on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. “I’m thankful to still have this.” He held it up, moisture filling his eyes. It had been tucked securely in his pocket the morning of the wreck. It no longer worked, but Sam hoped the watchmaker in Conviction could work his magic and fix it.

  “You also have what you shipped overland, Father.” Sam shifted, leaning an arm on the railing, noting the men still watched. “Would you mind taking Robbie below deck for a bit? He’s looking a little tired.”

  “I’m not tired, Papa. I want to stay with you.”

  Thomas looked over Robbie’s head at Sam. “Why don’t I take Robbie for a walk around the ship? By the time we’re done, I’m certain we’ll both be ready for a rest.”

  Sam nodded, returning his gaze to the men, who made no attempt to disguise their interest in him and his family.

  Looking down at Robbie, Thomas smiled. “All right, young man. Come along with me.”

  Waiting until they were out of earshot, Sam straightened, turning his full attention to the three men. They made no move to walk away, almost taunting him to come to them. He had no intention of disappointing them.

  Making eye contact with each, he walked forward, stopping a couple feet away. “Gentlemen. It is a nice day, don’t you think?”

  One of the three drew himself up to his full height, which Sam guessed to be close to six feet. At six-three, the gesture didn’t intimidate him.

  “Me and the boys was just commenting on the weather, wasn’t we?” He looked at the others, who nodded.

  They stared at each other for long moments, no one speaking as the ship rolled over the swells.

  The tallest crossed his arms. “You got something to say?”

  “I noticed you’ve been keeping watch on me and my family. Any particular reason?”

  Glancing at the others, the man smirked. “Lovely family you got. We heard you already lost one in the accident. Be a shame to lose more.”

  Taking a step forward, Sam clenched his fists at his sides, his face becoming a steely mask. “I don’t appreciate threats. You touch my family, make one move to harm them, and I will see each of you hang.”

  Ignoring the threat, or the potential danger in angering Sam, the man continued. “We hear San Francisco’s a rough town. Me and the boys could provide protection. You know, keep the riffraff away.”

  Sam studied each of the three, memorizing their faces and build. He’d been approached by men like them before, offering protection when extortion was the more appropriate word.

  “I appreciate the offer, gentlemen.” Moving his coat aside, he watched the men’s eyes widen at the sight of his gun. In Greytown, he’d been fortunate to find a retired ship’s captain with a six-shooter he’d been willing to part with. Sam also added a knife strapped to his ankle, as well as one on his belt. He’d learned the hard way what happened when you weren’t prepared. Traveling with his son and father had him more cautious than ever.

  “You might think about it, gent. Bad things can happen in such a big city.”

  Sam stiffened at the knowing sneer on the man’s face. If it were just him, he would think little of the threat. Having his son and father under his protection made him more vigilant, and more suspicious.

  “Again, I appreciate the offer.” Sam touched the brim of his hat. “Enjoy the rest of the cruise, gentlemen.”

  Turning, he took his time strolling to the front of the ship where his father and Robbie stood looking toward the open sea. The moment they docked, he’d hustle them to shore, find a hotel, and book passage to Conviction. Lingering in San Francisco, seeing some of the boisterous city, no longer held any appeal.

  Conviction

  “I wish I had more to tell you, Brodie, but Sam mentioned bringing his family and the need for a house with three bedrooms. It wasn’t easy, but I found one north of town.” August Fielder pushed the letter across the desk. “You can read it if you’d like. I would have mentioned it sooner, but assumed he’d contacted you about getting his job back.”

  Reading the letter, Brodie felt a rush of disappointment. He didn’t mention a wife and children. Jumping to conclusions didn’t sit well with him, but nothing else made sense. Sliding it back across the desk, he pulled the letter he’d received out of his pocket and held it out.

  “This is what came in the mail today.” As August read it, Brodie looked around the large room where the attorney worked when home, remembering their discussion a few months earlier. He’d yet to give the man an answer. With Sam returning, it might be time to consider leaving his sheriff’s position and returning to work on the Circle M. His chest tightened as he thought of giving up the profession he’d wanted since a child.

  “Sam says pretty much the same as in my letter.” Handing it back to Brodie, August leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’m assuming you plan to give him his job back.”

  He didn’t want to see Jinny hurt, yet withholding the job from Sam seemed pointless. He’d proven himself many times since arriving in Conviction, doing more than what Brodie expected. Once settled in their new home, he planned to have a hard discussion, insisting Sam stay away from Jinny. She deserved more than a man who couldn’t be honest.

  “Aye. I see no reason not to give him back his badge.”

  Standing, August walked around his desk, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the edge. “Have you thought any more about transferring the sheriff job to Sam and returning to the ranch?”

  Expelling a deep breath, Brodie shook his head. “Not since he left. Even with him returning, we need at least one more deputy, maybe two. The town is growing so fast, Nate, Jack, and I can’t keep up with it. Sam being back will help.” Standing, he walked to the window, staring out at the lush yard.

  “I won’t push you, Brodie. As I mentioned before, it’s your decision. No one is going to push you out of the job.”

  Brodie pursed his lips, nodding. “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say. Whatever he decided, it would be painful and not without some regrets.

  “There is, however, something else to consider. Widow Evanston has decided to sell her ranch. She approached me confidentially yesterday to see if I’d be interested. I need to discuss the matter with your father and Ian, but it’s a good spread we should consider buying.”

  August and the MacLarens had partnered to purchase a large part of the Estrada ranch. The original land grant had been divided so the Estrada family still had a good number of acres.

  Quinn had ridden into town the day before, saying the family expected him at Sunday supper. They had business to discuss and wanted him there. Brodie hadn’t pushed for the
reason, but it made sense now. Heather must have learned of the widow’s desire to sell and told the family. After the success of the Estrada purchase, he had no doubt his father and uncle would be interested in the same arrangement for the Evanston ranch.

  “I’ll send telegrams to the sheriffs in Sacramento and San Francisco, letting them know we’re in need of deputies. Once Sam returns, and we’re certain he’ll stay, I’ll make my decision.”

  “That’s fair. I know it will be a tough decision, given your success as the sheriff.”

  Walking to the door, Brodie paused. “Is there anything I can do to help get Sam’s house ready?”

  “It’s been ready for two weeks. I can’t deny I’m curious about the delay and hope nothing has gone wrong. Unfortunately, Sam didn’t provide any other contacts, so all we can do is wait.”

  “Aye. Good day to you, Mr. Fielder. I’ll let you know when I hear from him.”

  Letting himself out, Brodie swung up on Hunter, reining the horse toward the docks. He’d spread the word about needing deputies, then do the same at the Gold Dust Hotel, keeping his usual watch for the men who’d terrorized the women at Maloney’s. It had been weeks since they’d arrested Terrence Card, and no attempt had been made to break him out. Still, Brodie’s instincts told him they hadn’t heard the last of the ex-Confederate gang.

  Ophir City

  “We rob the bank as soon as they open. We’ll be in and out before the law or anyone else knows what happened.” Captain Eplett squatted, pointing to a crude layout in the dirt. It showed the main street, bank, jail, and other businesses Claude Parry had noted on a trip the day before to a town half the size of Conviction. He didn’t anticipate a big haul. What he did expect was all his men to get away alive and unwounded.

  The men had been up, their horses saddled and gear packed, long before the sun rose. Now they waited. The camp was less than a mile from town, right off the trail from Conviction. Eplett planned a different route back, identifying a meeting spot should they get separated.

  “We can’t afford casualties. No one takes chances, and no killing. Two go inside, the rest wait with the horses.”

  “What if they draw on us, Captain?”

  “Defend yourselves, but don’t shoot to kill, Private.” Satisfied, Eplett stood, glancing around. “Everyone ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

  “Then let’s ride.”

  The robbery went as planned, two men entering the bank and filling saddlebags with money. After one last admonishment to the clerks and the lone customer not to follow, they holstered their guns, leaving less than ten minutes after they’d entered. Swinging into their saddles, they kicked their horses as they raced out of town.

  Eplett thought they’d gotten safely away when a shot rang out. Sergeant Parry cursed, leaning down to grasp his leg. Reining his horse around, Eplett pointed his six-shooter at a boy, no more than twelve, who still shouldered his rifle. In a split-second decision, the captain aimed at the boy’s feet and fired. Dropping the rifle, the boy fled inside. Satisfied, he reined back toward his men, kicking his horse into a run as he leaned low over the saddle. The entire episode took no more than a few seconds.

  Keeping to the trail, he caught up to his men in minutes, moving his horse alongside Parry’s, the man struggling to stay in the saddle. Leaning down, he pulled the reins out of the sergeant’s weak grasp.

  “Hang on, Sergeant. We’ll get you out of here.” Signaling his men to keep going, Eplett held tight to Parry’s reins. Waiting too long to treat the wound could prove deadly, yet they had to get far enough away from town to be safe.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Parry slump forward, swaying in the saddle. Eplett had to get him to safety, and fast.

  Signaling the others to ride ahead, he reined the horses right, into a section of large boulders and thick shrubs about a hundred yards off the trail. A good tracker could find them. If a posse was on their trail, he hoped they’d follow the others, knowing the route he’d laid out for his men would get them to safety.

  Reining to a stop, he slid off his horse, catching Parry in his arms as the man slipped from the saddle.

  Conscious and in great pain, Parry gripped Eplett’s arm. “Leave me here, Captain.”

  Settling him on the ground, Eplett ripped open his pants, checking the wound on his thigh, letting out a relieved breath when he saw the bullet had gone straight through. Dashing to his horse, he pulled a shirt from his saddlebags, along with an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

  “I’m not leaving you, Claude. I just need to clean it up and put a bandage around it, then we’ll be back on the trail.” Opening the whiskey, he held the bottle over the wound. “This will hurt.”

  When Parry nodded, gritting his teeth, Eplett doused the wound, then covered it with the shirt. Applying pressure, he held it steady for several minutes until the sound of horses had him looking in the direction of the trail. He placed a hand over Parry’s mouth.

  “Stay quiet.”

  The sound of pounding hooves grew louder, men shouting at each other, unaware of the two men a few yards away as they rode past. Lifting his hand, Eplett focused on the wound. Tearing the shirt, he wrapped a strip around Parry’s thigh.

  He couldn’t count the number of men he’d tended to during the war. He couldn’t abide men or children suffering. Women, however, were a different matter. He’d never held the same respect for them, had never met a woman who earned it. Not his deceitful mother, who’d run off when he was six, and certainly not his cheating fiancée.

  “That will have to do until we reach camp.”

  Pushing up on his elbows, Parry’s pained gaze locked on Eplett’s. “Leave me. Come back when you know it’s safe.”

  Ignoring the plea, Eplett hoisted him into his arms and onto the saddle. “Can you hold on?”

  “Yes, sir,” Parry ground out, gripping the saddle horn with both hands.

  Holding the reins of both horses, he swung onto his horse. “We’re heading away from the others.”

  “Do whatever you have to, Captain. I trust you.”

  With that affirmation, Eplett kicked his horse, riding west and away from the posse.

  Chapter Thirteen

  San Francisco

  “Come quickly, Robbie. We need to reach the stagecoach before it leaves.” Holding his son’s hand, his father a few feet behind, Sam followed the porter who’d agreed to carry their luggage from the hotel. According to the front desk clerk, the stage boarded a short three blocks away.

  Fog hung thick in the early morning, the same as when the steamship docked the day before. They’d arrived in port and disembarked without incident. Sam assumed the men he confronted understood his message, moving on to others who might be more agreeable to their help.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he noted his father falling farther behind, his normal brisk pace slowed by age and a heavy heart. In Sam’s mind, they couldn’t get to Conviction soon enough. They needed a fresh start in a town with good people where new memories could be made.

  “Are you all right, Father?”

  “I’m fine, Samuel. Perhaps a little winded is all.”

  Accepting the reply, Sam continued to follow the porter around a corner, spotting the stagecoach a block away. In a short while, they’d be loaded and on their way. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when they stopped in front of the stage, that Sam noticed his father wasn’t with them.

  “Would you like me to take care of your passage, sir?” The porter stood next to him, oblivious to the concern on Sam’s face.

  “Yes, please.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the fare. “Here. Apparently, we’ve lost my father. Make sure they wait until I return.” Looking into the stage, he spotted an older couple. Glancing behind him, still not seeing his father, Sam made a quick decision. “Excuse me. My father seems to have been delayed. He should only be a block behind us. Would you mind watching my son for a few minutes while I find him?”
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  “Well, I don’t think—” the man began, only to be interrupted by his wife.

  “Of course, young man. You go find your father. This young gentleman will be safe with us.” The woman leaned forward, offering her hand to Robbie. “I’m Mrs. Jaeger and this is my husband, Mr. Jaeger. What is your name?”

  Robbie looked at the woman, then up at his father, his face scrunching together.

  “His name is Robbie Covington, and I’m Samuel Covington.” His worry grew the longer his father failed to appear. Lifting his son, he set him inside the stage. “Robbie, I need to find your grandfather. You need to stay here with Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger. Do you understand?” A reluctant nod was all Sam needed before he ran back toward the hotel.

  Scanning every store and alley, he called his father’s name, getting no response. He’d been right behind them until the last corner. Afterward, Sam had lost track of him.

  “Thomas Covington?” He called the name over and over before noticing an opening between two buildings. Not wide enough for an alley, Sam assumed the merchants used it to travel between stores.

  His desperation grew, his voice hard and loud. “Tom Covington!”

  “Help!”

  Sam swore as he jogged down the opening, turning at the end to find his father on the ground, the three men from the ship bending over him, rifling through his clothes. Drawing his gun, he aimed at the tallest.

  “Back away from him or, by God, I’ll shoot you where you stand.” Taking a breath, Sam leveled the six-shooter, no doubt in his mind he could hit all three before they got to him. He had no desire to kill them, but he would if they gave him no choice.

  The tallest held up his hands. “No need for shooting. We were just helping the old man after some men roughed him up.”

  “That’s a lie,” Thomas replied, doing his best to sit up as the men began to back away. “They jumped me, Sam.”