Debra Holland - [Montana Sky 02] (34 page)

Still feeling torn, Wyatt turned back toward the school. He’d promised Christine he’d rebuild the outhouse. And he had some powerful thinking to do. He strode along so deep in thought he barely registered Reverend Norton waving at him. Only when the minister motioned so strongly that his white hair flew up to match his fluttering arms did Wyatt stop.

“Good morning, Reverend Norton.”

“Good morning, Mr. Thompson.” The minister’s forehead puckered. “Have you heard about the town meeting?”

“Meeting?”

“Mr. Livingston and Mrs. Grayson have insisted everyone meet to discuss the burning of the school privy and Mrs. Murphy’s haystack.”

A stone settled in Wyatt’s gut. “They’re blamin’ the Cassidy twins?”

The minister nodded, blue eyes distressed. “Perhaps I made an error in judgment when I didn’t send the twins away.”

“No.” The word slipped out before Wyatt could think. “I didn’t agree with you at the time, but the boys have done well with Mrs. Rodriguez.”

“I thought so too. But now…”

“Reverend, we’ve never been a town takin’ to stringing up criminals without a trial. If those boys were adults, they’d get a fair hearing. And in a real trial, I doubt there’d be enough evidence to lock them away.”

The minister stroked his beard. “You are right. Tempers are running a bit high, but I’m sure calmer heads will prevail.”

“We’ll just have to see to it.”

“I’ve asked John Carter to run the meeting. He’s just the man we need—calm, rational, and well respected. I’m sure he won’t let things get out of hand.”

“Good choice.” Relief settled Wyatt’s stomach. Carter should handle things just fine. Now, if Wyatt could keep his hotheaded Samantha from firing up against everyone…He ran his fingers through his hair. That might be the hardest part.

Reverend Norton shifted his weight forward. “So I can count on you to be there? Sunday after the service?”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he said with a wry grimace. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Reverend, I have another outhouse to build.”

“Certainly, certainly. Good day, Mr. Thompson.”

“Good day.”

The minister hurried off to round up more of his sheep for the Sunday meeting.

Deep in thought, Wyatt strolled toward the school. Although he wasn’t entirely sure the twins were in the clear, his gut told him they’d told the truth. And he trusted his gut. He had learned what happened when he went against his instincts.

But if the twins weren’t setting the fires, who was?

Run away!

Samantha stared down at the slate left on the kitchen table and tried to will her racing thoughts to slow long enough for her to absorb the words. In Jack’s scrawl, the chalk letters spelled a message that weakened her knees and thumped her heart in slow beats of dread.

She touched the cool black slate, rubbing out the tail of a
J
. Then she forced a slow breath into her restricted ribs, the rose scent from the flower-filled vase on the table cloying amidst the sharpness of her fear. She reread the message:

Dear Miz Sam,

Tim an Little Feather and me dun gone away. Mrs. Grayson’s right angry. We don’t wan to cause no more troble. If we don leave we might make ya lose the ranch. We took the clothes ya gave us and some food and some suplys. Don’t you worry nun, Little Feather knows a place were we’ll be saf. Tel Dan goodby. Much ablyjed for al ya dun.

Jack

A clatter of running footsteps thumped up the stairs, across the porch, and into the kitchen. Daniel skidded to a halt in front of her, his thin chest heaving under his blue-striped cotton shirt.
“Tim an Jack an Little Feather are hiding from me, Mama. I’ve looked all around and can’t find them.”

“They’ve run away.” Her calm voice belied the shaking of her hands.

Daniel’s blue eyes widened, and his eyebrows lifted.

To avoid the puzzlement and hurt dawning in her son’s gaze and reflecting in her heart, she looked down at the slate, then read the message out loud.

Storm clouds gathered on Daniel’s face. He stomped his foot, unaccustomed rage narrowing his eyes. “That Ben,” he growled. “I could light into him myself.”

Samantha restrained a gasp. Her son looked and sounded so much like his grandfather. For a few seconds the thought so unnerved her that she didn’t notice what he’d said. “What do you mean, ‘Ben’?”

He looked down, fidgeting his shoulders. “Tole us his mama had called a town meeting. They’re gunna make us lose the ranch if the twins didn’t leave town.”

Samantha reached out and cupped Daniel’s chin, lifting his face to her. “What do you mean?”

“Ben said if you kept Jack and Tim living here, his uncle wouldn’t give you money, and you wouldn’t be able to buy anything at the Cobbs’.”

Samantha released an angry breath.

“Could they do that, Mama?”

“They could try, I suppose.”

“What if we run out of money?”

“Then I’ll just have to sell your grandmama’s emerald earrings.” She hoped that would be enough. She forced a smile to reassure him. “But just because Ben’s mama wants something, doesn’t mean it will happen.”

But even as she said the words, they echoed back to her, vibrating in her head. She placed her hands to her temples and squeezed her forehead until it wrinkled. She didn’t know which problem to think through first. Chewing the inside of her lip, she came to a quick decision. Even if she lost the ranch, she’d not lose her three other boys. She’d keep them with her no matter what.

She dropped her hands. “But why did the twins run away? I’d think they’d fight rather than run.”

He dropped his gaze, kicking a chair leg with one scuffed boot. “Mr. Thompson asked if they’d burnt down Widow Murphy’s haystack.”

Like colored glass in a kaleidoscope, Samantha’s world turned. One minute one pattern, then with a quick shift of the wrist, another, then seconds later, another. “Did Widow Murphy’s haystack burn down too?”

“Yep, last night.”

“And Mr. Thompson blamed the twins?”

As if remembering, Daniel’s head swiveled back and forth in a slow
No
.

“What then?”

“He asked them if they knew anything about it.” Daniel rocked forward, his next words rushing. “At first Jack had this hurt look, then quick as a wink, his face went to lookin’ like he did when he first lived with us.”

Samantha understood. Sullenness over the hurt. Her heart ached for them. “Then what happened?”

“Jack grabbed my arm and pulled me away. We took off running to the stable and saddled up the horses and rode home. When we got here, Jack said we needed to stay away from you until we’d calmed down a bit, or you’d know for sure something was up. He tole me to go stay with Maria at her house.”

“They must have waited until I was working in the garden, then snuck into the house, packed up, and left.”

Daniel’s face twisted. “Why didn’t they take me?”

“Oh, Daniel.” Samantha put the slate on the table and hugged him. “I’m sure they wanted you with them, but no one in town is mad at you and wants you to leave. Just them. They might have even thought I wouldn’t come after them. I don’t think they completely trust in my love. But they know I’d track you down.”

“We’ll go find them, won’t we, Mama?”

She squeezed him again. “Of course. Right away. You run and saddle up the horses. I’ll change clothes.”

Relieved, he skipped out of the house.

Through the window, Samantha watched him run toward the barn. She was fairly sure the boys would head for the caves where Little Feather had lived. The Indian knew the caves well, so they should be all right.

An idea came to her, and she dropped into a chair to think it through. Maybe she shouldn’t go after the boys until after the town meeting. Telling people they’d run away rather than jeopardize her ranch should garner them some sympathy—perhaps sway people over to her side. And if worse came to worst, and anyone forcibly tried to take the twins away from her, they wouldn’t know where to find them. And she could truthfully say she didn’t know either.

An image of Wyatt came into her mind. The look in his eyes as he’d stared down at her last night. The brush of his hand against her skin. His kisses that fulfilled an empty place inside her, at the same time leaving her wanting more.

Will Wyatt stand by my side? Help me in this fight?
She’d thought from the way he’d been behaving toward the boys that he’d accepted the twins and Little Feather—indicated a
willingness to make them part of his life. But he still had doubts about her boys. That thought speared a shaft of pain through her heart. He hadn’t completely accepted her because he hadn’t completely accepted them. Would he give up courting her?

Samantha stiffened her shoulders. She wouldn’t sacrifice the boys for Wyatt’s love. Then she softened, biting her lip. To be fair, he hadn’t asked her. If they discovered the real fire-setting culprit, then things might change for the better. The townsfolk would drop their angry accusations. The boys could return home. She wouldn’t lose her ranch. Wyatt would court her.

But those thoughts didn’t bring the satisfaction they should. The truth was, she wanted all those things to happen without Wyatt discovering who the real arsonist was. She wished for everyone to believe in the goodness of Jack and Tim, because she did.

She firmed her mouth.
I’ll do whatever it takes to save my boys. Wyatt or no Wyatt.

The church overflowed with people, many, like Henry Arden, not often seen darkening the doors of the hallowed building. A few folks, such as the Carters and the Sanders, had greeted her before the service and acted their normal friendly selves. But the majority of the people had avoided eye contact or kept throwing curious stares at Samantha during the service.

Pink roses stuffed the green glass vase on the altar. The summer dresses of flower-sprigged cottons and the flowers in the bonnets of the women lent the room a festive air, at odds with the oppressive atmosphere settling like fog before a storm. Even singing joyful hymns had not lifted the restive feeling of the congregation.

After the service, Reverend Norton dismissed the children. Daniel gave Samantha a quick hug, then scampered past the Carters and across the aisle to join Christine. As the two children met, Wyatt sent Samantha a bolstering grin. Feeling trembly anticipation, she could only manage a half smile in response.

The parents who’d brought their children to church shooed them outside. As Christine left with Daniel, she flipped Samantha a small wave and a bigger grin. Ben appeared to argue with his mother, then gave in. He stood up, tugging on his blue suit, then sauntered down the aisle, avoiding looking at Samantha as he passed.

The Carters shepherded their three children outside, leaving Samantha alone in the pew.

The quietness of the empty space next to Samantha was worse than having to keep a sharp eye on the behavior of a wiggly Daniel and reluctant set of twins. She missed those mischief makers. An ever-present worry about the well-being of the twins and Little Feather distracted her for a moment. She trusted the boys enough to let them camp out in the caves for a few days, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Tension squeezed a vise around her temples until each one of the hairpins, jabbed into the braided coil of her hair, stabbed into her skull.

As if trying to settle her restless spirit, Samantha smoothed her black silk dress, then pinched a bunch of fabric by her knee, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

Nick and Elizabeth Sanders joined Samantha in the pew. Elizabeth reached over and briefly squeezed her hand.

The Carters returned from escorting their children outside. Pamela slid into the empty seat next to Samantha and gave her an encouraging smile. John Carter paused by her, about to speak. Then with a sigh, he brushed back his thinning rusty hair, and walked up the aisle to shake hands with Reverend Norton. The two stood quietly talking for a moment. Although she strained, Samantha couldn’t hear what they said. Then the minister took a seat in the front row next to his wife.

John Carter stepped up to the pulpit and cleared his throat. The buzz of conversation that had started at the close of the service died down.

John placed both hands on the pulpit and leaned forward. “We have gathered together to discuss the recent fires plaguing our town. There have been three fires—two involving Mrs. Murphy’s haystack and the school privy. We—”

Mrs. Murphy bobbed up. “We ain’t here for no discussion.” Her cheeks mottled. “We want them Cassidy boys shipped out of town on the next train.”

John’s calm voice chilled. “Anyone who interrupts me again will be asked to leave the meeting.” His hard gaze bored into Widow Murphy.

She flushed, shaking her head; her wattle slid from side to side.

John narrowed his eyes.

With a shrug, she plopped down in her pew.

Inwardly Samantha applauded. John Carter had always acted so mild mannered and kind, but when he chose, he had a glare that could stop a raging bull in its tracks.

He used it now, sending his gaze over the whole room. “This is not a hanging jury. If anyone has evidence against the twins, instead of illogical emotions, they may speak up at this time.”