Ballad Beauty (19 page)

CHAPTER 22

Riley Withers pitched forward in his seat as the train braked heavily and skidded to an unscheduled stop.

“Dammit.” He cursed himself again for the hundredth time. Why had he been foolhardy enough to try to take a train?

He knew why. He was a shiftless son of a gun whose hip had been bothering him for a good year or more. He also had the sore shoulder, courtesy of Sam, as the reason to head to Prairie Dell in the most comfortable manner possible.

He hadn’t especially liked the looks of the guide Jenny McShanahan settled on. The escort might have played easygoing to the little twit, but he saw the way the man moved. The way his eyes searched out things. He was a professional from the looks of it. Riley didn’t want to tangle with him. He’d be a hard man to shadow out in the open. He knew not to take unnecessary chances. He liked his hide intact.

So he took the lazy man’s way out and thought to travel by train as far as he could. That way he’d be fresher, and it would take about the same amount of time as the overland route.

Excepting his trip up to Boston and back to Texas, he never had spent much time on trains. While getting to Boston from Texas and back had been a piece of cake, he had no idea how western trains in remote spots ran. Until now. The fact was, they didn’t. There had been delays, cancellations, roaming buffalo on the tracks, and two different robberies. Countless times he’d been ready to get off and find a horse, but the one time he looked, nothing satisfied him. He’d decided to tough it out.

His thoughts were interrupted by an all too familiar voice. He groaned inwardly but put a smile on his face.

“Lookee here, boys. If’n it ain’t Riley Withers.”

He couldn’t believe the Purnell brothers had appeared. They were the last men he’d choose to run into if given a thousand wishes. They were bumblers, dumb as dirt, and bad luck chased them wherever they went. When they showed up, he knew the law wouldn’t be far behind. He did not want his wagon hitched to this sorry trio.

“Hey, boys.” He wanted to seem moderately friendly, seeing as how the Purnells were robbing his train, but at the same time he didn’t want any passengers connecting him with them. He walked to the front of the car where they stood, the better to have a more private conversation.

“What the hell are you doing on a train bound to nowhere, Riley?”

“Had a little business to do, Jack. I’m sure you get my drift.”

All three brothers chuckled as if on the inside of the joke. He doubted two of the three had a clue what he was talking about.

“Been hell, though. Too many holdups. Why anybody rides on a train is beyond me.”

They cackled loudly. “That’s a good one,” said Jake. “Holdups.”

He smiled, his jaw clenched in a show of camaraderie. “Actually, it’s true. I’ve already been through a couple holdups and a derailment. Damn buffalo. Had to switch trains after that happened,” he said affably. “Now you boys show up, and I’m gonna be further delayed.”

He motioned and took Jim, the eldest of the trio, aside. “I have gotta get where I’m headed, Jimbo. Think you can let me off while you do your business here?”

Jim tilted his head and signaled for his brothers to come over. “Riley here needs to be gone, fellas. Either of you have an objection to letting him off while we go about our collecting?”

Jack snickered. “I’m collecting me rings and watches and maybe a purdy girl.” He flashed a toothy grin at Riley. “Don’t bother me none if’n he gets off.”

Riley tipped his hat. “I’d be mighty obliged to you three.” He walked to his seat and picked up his coat. “Good luck to you, now.”

He returned to the back of the car, passing the white faces of frightened passengers. Hell, if there was at least one man with some gumption on this train, the Purnells wouldn’t get anything. They were as yellow-bellied as they came. Anyone who stood up and said boo to them would have them cowering in a corner in two seconds flat.

He reached the rear of the train and opened the heavy door. The cold air felt good after the stuffy confines of the railcar. Too many mewling kids and unwashed bodies to suit his frame of mind. He let go of the steel door, and it slammed hard behind him. He looked around and spotted a young kid with a set of horses. He jumped down and made his way over.

“Hey, there,” he said amiably. “You related to the Purnells?” The freckled-faced stranger couldn’t have been more than fourteen and was unarmed.

“Who’re you?” the boy asked sullenly.

“Now don’t go sassin’ me, son. I’m friends with those boys. We go way back. I’ve got some business to attend to, and I didn’t have time to shoot the breeze with the Purnells while they took their time holding up the train. There’s too many passengers, and my time’s as precious as money.”

The kid studied him. He could see the boy was as goofy as the group he’d left on the train. That would help.

He walked over and nuzzled a black and white horse. “Hello, Old Paint. Been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“You know Old Paint?”

“Sure I do. Used to be mine. Jack done won him off me in a card game.” He stroked the horse fondly. “Jackie’s gonna let me borrow him for a while, seeing as to how I need to get gone.”

He swung up into the saddle. He tipped his hat to the lookout. “Nice meeting you. Hope to see you real soon.”

With that, he kicked the horse, and Old Paint took off at a full gallop. He’d chosen this particular mount because he knew despite the horse’s looks, he had deceptive speed. Old Paint left him and his horse in the dust over three years ago when he and the Purnells held up a stagecoach in Texas, down around San Antone. He’d always wanted a fast horse.

He’d finally gotten his wish.

He smiled to himself. He wondered how far Jack Purnell would kick the kid when he found out the idiot let Riley Withers ride off on his prized horse.

One which Riley had never, ever owned.

Jenny could not fall asleep. The day’s events had been too earth-shattering. Physically tired at the end of such a long journey, she had been further depleted with the news about Sam’s death. To think she would never see her beloved papa again. And he was beloved. Interspersed with all the bitterness and regrets was a deep love for him that would always abide within her. He might have been a notorious outlaw, but he had done what he thought was best for her—even if it did lead to years of separation. Sam wanted more for her than he could have provided if they’d stayed together. She needed to remember that.

As she lay in the darkness, she thought of all those nights when he tucked her into bed. She could almost feel his large, warm hand as it stroked her hair, a soft ballad sung quietly in his rich baritone to lull her to sleep. Bits and pieces of the words he’d crooned began to come back to her, words she hadn’t been able to recall in years.

She remembered “
Red is the Rose”
and “
The Foggy Dew,” “Rocky Road to Dublin”
and “
The Cliffs of Doneen.”
She thanked the Good Lord that He’d given her this small piece of Sam back, a Sam full of tenderness and love for his little girl.

The more the words returned to her, the more she knew they held the key to the map Sam had made. When morning came, she would make a list of all the song titles that she could think of and as many words as she could remember. Therein lay the key to finding Sam’s haul.

She knew he intended it for her and Mo, to offer them security for the rest of their lives, but the idea of living off stolen money proved distasteful. If she could find where he stashed the loot, she could return it to the authorities. Maybe in some small way it would help clear a few of the black marks against his name. She didn’t know if she would succeed, but she had to try.

She slept fitfully. Images of the Sam from her childhood interspersed with those of Sam as a romantic Robin Hood figure, the king of larceny in the West. In her dreams Noah confronted Sam, a bright star blazing on his chest, and demanded that Sam surrender. When he wouldn’t, Noah shot him in cold blood. He twirled his Colt through his finger and shook his head.

“Damn waste of a man.” Noah’s eyes were like ice as he re-holstered his pistol.

Jenny sat up, wide awake from the nightmare. Her eyes felt scratchy and tired from lack of sleep. Her head ached, too, and her limbs were sore from the weeks in the saddle on the road.

She looked down at Mo peacefully sleeping next to her on the floor. Mo insisted that Jenny take the lumpy cot.

“Wouldn’t do for my guest to go sleepin’ on the floor, especially as to how you’re my kinfolk, too.”

Jenny smiled at the thought. She’d never known she had any relatives other than Sam. Her discovery of this one-eyed aunt helped to cushion the blow of Sam’s untimely death. Mo might be gruff and a soiled dove, but she had a kind heart. She had kept Jenny up till the wee hours of the morning, recounting stories of her and Sam’s childhood in Ireland. Jenny vowed to go to Ireland one day and see her family’s roots for herself. It might make her feel closer to her parents somehow.

She lay back against the soft, feathered pillow, new fragments of songs swirling in her head. The key lay locked somewhere in her mind. She pictured the map, randomly littered with phrases. If only she could decipher what Sam meant.

She must have fallen asleep again, for the next thing she was conscious of was the savory smell of brewed coffee. She sat up and pushed her tumbled curls from her eyes.

“Good mornin’ to you,” Mo called, nursing a skillet of sizzling eggs. “Hope you like yer coffee strong and yer eggs hard ‘cause that’s the only way I can make ‘em.”

She stood and stretched. “That sounds wonderful, Mo. Anything I can help with?”

“No, not now. After breakfast, though, you can go out and feed yer prissy horse. I put her in the coverin’ out back last night with my Buffy. I don’t know if those two fillies will take to being together. They both have mighty high ideas of how pretty they both are.”

Jenny laughed. “Sassy will be glad for the company. She was very fond of Star.” She thought how fond she herself had been of Star—and his rider. She mentally shook the thought off and poured coffee for her and Mo.

After they ate, she fed both horses. She found herself humming “
Maids When You’re Young.”
The words magically came back to her as she filled a bucket apiece for each horse, so she sang the entire song to her audience of two. She was ready now to make a list of every song she could remember and compare them to the pieced-together map and its directions.

Mo had already cleared the table and rinsed their dishes by the time she returned. Her aunt bustled about, holding up first one dress, then inspecting another, until she seemed satisfied. She raised one high for Jenny’s opinion.

“What do you think of this one?”

It was made of faded satin that had seen better days, but it was clean and in decent shape.

“It’s very nice, Mo.”

“Good. Gotta get gussied up now. It’s my weekly card game, love. Been doin’ this every Thursday since I come to Prairie Dell years ago. It livens up the week a bit, and it sure don’t hurt my pocketbook.”

She smiled radiantly. “I win most every time, and it’s not because they let me, either. I’m good with cards. Don’t even have to cheat to whip up on ‘em, most times.”

Mo combed her long, faded locks and twisted them up, pinning them artfully. She doused herself in rose water and then turned her back. Jenny saw she slipped off the black eye patch. She wondered what Mo was up to.

When her aunt turned around, she wore a patch of bright yellow, which picked up the piping in her dress. “Wanna look my best for the fellas,” she said slyly.

“You look lovely, Mo,” she said with sincerity.

Mo kissed her cheek. “I do clean up nice, don’t I?” She shuffled around until she found her reticule and stuffed a pack of playing cards into it. “I hate leavin’ my favorite niece, but I’ll be gone most o’ the day.”

“Your only niece,” she piped in.

“But you’d be my favorite anyway, dear.” Mo smoothed her hair once more. “We’ll have lots of time to visit, but I do have to make the weekly game. Can’t disappoint my boys.”

Jenny smiled. “Go ahead, Mo. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy here.”

“That’s good.” Mo kissed her cheek again. “Don’t go anywhere since we don’t know where that Riley Withers is. And if’n Noah drops by, tell him about the louse.”

She snorted. “I doubt Mr. Webster will drop by. If he does, I don’t plan to answer the door.”

Mo guffawed. “If’n I know Noah, I don’t think he’d let somethin’ like that prevent him from coming in.”

“Just go, will you?”

Mo raised her brows. “I will, and I hope to come home richer ‘n when I left.” She waved and headed out the door.

Jenny leaned back in her chair. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Better get another cup of coffee,” she told herself, and poured the bitter brew into her mug. She spent the next two hours listing ballad titles in her journal and writing down as many lyrics as she could remember.

She knew she was on the verge of a breakthrough, but her eyes blurred as she looked at the open map. She closed them and noticed for the first time how sore her neck and back were from hunching over the table for so long. She decided to stretch her legs a bit and take in some fresh air.

Mo showed her earlier where a stash of sugar lumps were kept, strictly for Buffy’s pleasure. Jenny decided to visit the horses and give them each a treat. She wouldn’t be gone more than five minutes, only long enough to clear her head and start fresh as she tried to unravel Sam’s cryptic chart.

She put on her cloak and slipped two lumps into her pocket. She pulled the door open and stepped outside. Immediately, she pulled the cloak closer as she rounded the corner. It had gotten downright cold since yesterday. She would make this a very quick trip.

Both horses greeted her. As she pulled the sugar lumps from her pocket, Buffy knew exactly what she held and nudged her fist playfully.