Under a Falling Star (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
ired after standing guard since nine this morning, Dalton watched Albert come down the path that led from the cemetery with Susanna by his side and a child in his arms. The three went into the bakery across the street from the bank. He settled his shoulder against the porch post, his gaze on the bakery door, recalling the way Susanna had felt wrapped in his embrace after the incident with the Chinese launderer.

Had she sensed the connection between them, or had she been too rattled by the rough encounter? For him, the years since he’d seen her melted away like magic. She’d stirred his blood, and his thoughts for the remainder of the day had been about her.

A man exited the saloon, crossed the narrow alley and turned, intending to enter the bank.

“Hold up,” Dalton said.

The man turned to him. “What?”

“You’ll have to leave your sidearm out here with me.”

The cowboy’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you talking about?”

Dalton pointed to a sign Albert had written and posted next to the door.

NO GUNS IN THE BANK BY ORDER OF THE SHERIFF.

Dalton held out his hand. The cowboy was lean and a bit windblown. Dalton hadn’t seen him in town before today. “You’ll have to hand it over.”

The man’s hand dropped possessively to the handle of his .45 Colt. “I’m not giving you my gun.”

Dalton clenched his jaw. He’d been nice and polite, just as Frank had asked. No one else had taken offense at the request, knowing the sheriff was only looking out for the large amount of money locked up in the vault, as well as everyone’s safety. Why should this fella be different? “Then you won’t be banking today.” Dalton took a small step forward. “Period.”

“Thanks again, Mr. Lloyd.” A gravelly voice from inside wafted out followed by an older gentleman.

“My pleasure. Taking out a loan is as easy as that. I look forward to seeing you each month.” The farmer-type secured his dented hat on his head, then smiled politely at Dalton. Frank Lloyd stepped out after him.

Frank shuffled to a stop when he saw the fellow Dalton had stopped. A big grin split his face and he clapped the man on the shoulder. “Seth Cotton, it’s good to see you. How’re things out at the ranch?”

The angry tilt to Seth Cotton’s face morphed into a knowing satisfaction. He thought he was about to have his way. “Just fine, Frank. I’ve been busy, so this was my first opportunity to get to town in two weeks. A shame about the train, and all those people dying.” His gaze darted to Dalton, then back to Frank.

“And your cough?”

“Seems to be easing up some. Doc has had me drinking an awful-
tasting elixir for the past few months. Nell’s plenty happy about it.”

“Ivy, too?”

Seth chuckled. “You bet.”

Dalton relaxed, listening to the conversation, absolutely sure Mr. Cotton was just going to try and amble his way in on the shirttails of his friend. That wasn’t going to happen on Dalton’s watch.

Frank glanced his way. “Have the two of you met?”

Dalton smiled. “Not officially.”

“Well, let me do the honors. Seth, this is Dalton Babcock. Came in on the train and is guardian over the money I’m sure you’ve heard all about. Dalton, Seth Cotton is Charlie Axelrose’s brother-in-law. You know Charlie.”

So, he was almost family.
“Sure I do. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cotton.”

The fella smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t finished yet either.

Frank turned on his heel and began to enter. “Have you come to make a payment?”

“That’s right.”

Frank didn’t notice the tension in the man’s voice, but Dalton caught it.

As he stepped forward to follow Frank, Dalton reached out an arm. “Your gun?” He couldn’t keep the irritation from his tone.

Frank turned. “Dalton, Seth’s a trusted friend.”

“I’m just following the sheriff’s orders. Besides, you want to set an example for everyone else to argue? It’s not a good idea.”

A staring match ensued.

“He has a point, Seth.”

Five minutes later, Seth Cotton stepped out of the bank, followed by Frank. Dalton handed the man his gun and he strode away—without a word being said.

Frank cleared his throat. “So, how’s the watch going?”

“Besides Seth Cotton, haven’t heard a peep. I’m starting to think we don’t have a thing to worry about. That said, I’ll be a happy man when the soldiers finally show up.”

Frank looked up and down the street. “Agreed. And the representative from Denver. I’ve always dreamed of what it would feel like to have a million dollars in my bank, and now I know. I’d just as soon be a small bank again.”

Dalton nodded, still a bit put off by how Frank had tried to get around the new ordinance for a friend. He decided to shift his thinking to a more pleasant subject. “Can I ask you a nonbusiness question, Frank?”

Frank snapped his gaze from the hill where men worked filling in the graves, and a few mourners still lingered in the cemetery. “Of course. What is it?”

“I’d like to know more about Susanna Robinson. We grew up together. I’ll admit, I liked her back then, and seeing her again has made me realize I’ve never stopped. Running into her now, out of the blue, almost feels like a sign.”

“A sign?”

Two doors down, Beth Fairington came out of the mercantile, and smiled at him, something she’d been doing for most of the day. Frank chuckled.

Dalton ignored the amusement at his expense. “Sure. A sign that maybe I was supposed to meet up with her after all these years. Is she seeing anyone seriously?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” Frank said. “She and Albert have been a couple for some time.” His brow scrunched thoughtfully. “Well, not officially a couple, I guess. But it’s a known fact around town that they’re sweet on each other.”

Albert? Susanna and Albert?

Strange he’d not picked up on that at all. Since he’d arrived, he hadn’t seen the two together until today, and her name had never passed Albert’s lips. Or vice versa.

“A word of caution—Susanna isn’t up for grabs. If I were you and looking to settle, I’d set my sights on someone else, someone attainable.” Frank glanced down at Beth who’d just reappeared. “Albert and Susanna are as solid as they come.”

That almost sounded like a challenge. Dalton was surprised the news didn’t bother him more. Maybe because he couldn’t picture the two together.

When Frank turned to leave, Dalton stopped him. “Something else. Around noon, the strangest thing happened. I turned around and found a little cloth bag tied off with a ribbon sitting on my chair. It was like it appeared out of nowhere.”

“Let me guess . . . cookies?”

Dalton laughed. “How’d you know?”

“Logan Meadows has a secret do-gooder. Consider yourself christened.”

“It’s not . . .” He let his gaze move left to Beth strolling up and down on the mercantile porch, fingers threaded together behind her back, as if she didn’t have a care, or chore to do, in the world.

“No,” Frank said emphatically. “The incidents began before Miss Fairington came to town. That one wouldn’t know how to do a kind deed if she tried.”

A rush of relief flashed through Dalton. Perhaps the do-gooder was Susanna. He could easily see that of her. Maybe, just maybe, she was trying to get his attention, too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A
s
tounded over the events of the last hour, Albert walked down the boardwalk with Nate by his side. The fact that he was no longer married kept beating the drum of his heart. Still, poor Floria. He allowed himself to think kindly of her since she was dead. For Nate’s sake, he’d do his best to forget all she’d put him through, how she purposely set out to wreck his life with no thought to his feelings. But now, there were more pressing matters. Somehow, he had to convince Susanna he had never purposely lied to her, and that they should marry right away. That would be tough. He’d seen her expression. Her hurt. She didn’t understand at all.

He smiled when he felt Nate’s wary gaze on him. Most of all, he needed time to become better acquainted with his son—that word still brought a flutter of wonder whenever he said it, even to himself—and make sure the boy didn’t feel frightened, as Albert was sure he must.

Albert opened the door to the sheriff’s office and held it wide. “There’s someone in here I want you to meet,” Albert said, gesturing for his boy to enter.

Nate didn’t see the dog lying by the stove because his gaze went straight to the two jail cells. He shuffled inside and stopped by Albert’s desk. “Who?”

“You missed him. He’s over there.”

With a brow scrunched up in bewilderment, Nate looked around. He spotted the dog watching him through interested eyes, his chin resting on his outstretched legs.

“A dog!” He hurried forward and went down on his knees in front of Ivan, but kept his hands to himself.

“That’s Ivan. He’s nice. Go ahead and pet him.”

Nate regarded Albert over his shoulder for more than a few seconds, as if he didn’t believe him. “I’ll get in trouble when my mama comes back. He might bite me.”

Shocked, Albert wondered if he should correct Nate’s thinking, or let it go for now since he’d been through so much today. The funeral and then meeting a father he didn’t know he had. He decided on the latter. “That’s good advice about strange dogs, but I know Ivan. He loves children.”

Albert came over and sat down on the floor next to the two. He scratched Ivan behind his ears, making the dog’s tongue flop out the side of his mouth in pleasure.

Nate watched him stoically.

“He’s just being polite and waiting for you to make the first move,” Albert said. “If you do, from now on he’ll be the first to greet you when you come in.”

Still Nate held back.

Maybe it was best to show by example. Albert leaned over and put his cheek to the dog’s back, his fur tickling his nose. “Come on, I wouldn’t lead you wrong. His coat is soft. I’ll bet you’ll like it.”

Nate placed his palm on Ivan’s head and gave a little scratch. Albert sat up, pleased Nate was beginning to trust him. Ivan crawled forward, and lowered his head into Nate’s lap.

Thank you, Ivan. You’re just what he needs right now in a strange town, with strange people.

Thom came through the door, stopping when he caught sight of the three of them sitting on the floor. Albert climbed to his feet.

“I see ya met my dog,” Thom said jovially, a wide smile stretching across his face.

Nate whipped around and snatched back his hand as if he’d been caught doing something naughty.

“No, go on,” Thom encouraged. “Ivan loves attention. He never thinks he gets enough.”

When the boy turned back to Ivan, Thom sent a censorious look Albert’s way.

Well, now it had started. His friends felt duped. He’d have a lot of explaining to do, but not before he spoke with Susanna. She deserved to get the facts first.

“I’m Thom, by the way. Thom Donovan, your pa’s deputy.” He strode over and hunkered down, putting out a hand to Nate, who understood and shook his hand like a man. His boy had nice manners.

“I’m Nate Brooks. My ma is trapped in the train wreck and we need to get her out. She’s scared. Will you go with me?”

How did one make a grieving five-year-old face the reality that his ma was dead and buried, and she wasn’t coming back? Albert’s chest squeezed painfully. He’d take his boy’s hurt on himself if he could.

Thom cut his gaze away, surprised. “I, ah . . .”

Albert ran his hand down Nate’s hair, Ivan still resting his heavy head in the boy’s lap. “He knows about your ma, Nate. Things are going to be fine.”

Nate kept his gaze on the dog.

Albert stepped away, challenging Thom with a direct gaze, who tipped up his chin. “Nate and I were just on our way upstairs. He’s tired. I think he’d like to settle in and maybe take a nap.”

The child quickly looked up, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t take naps.”

Albert glanced at the clock, then back to the pair on the floor. “Or not. Let’s go upstairs anyway. I’d like to show you around and get better acquainted. I have a guest staying for a couple of days, so it’s going to be a bit tight, but we’ll manage.”

Reluctantly, Nate climbed to his feet. When he did, Ivan followed suit.

“Mr. Springer came and collected his things about fifteen minutes ago,” Thom said. “He was lucky enough to get a room that had opened up at the hotel. He told me to thank you for your hospitality.”

Albert nodded. “Well, that’s one problem taken care of. I was wondering how we’d all fit.” He went to the door. “The stairs are outside around back. Follow me.”

“It’s my shift to stand guard in a half hour, so I’ll be heading out soon,” Thom said stiffly.

Albert felt a bit awkward under Thom’s unwavering gaze. He hadn’t been around children much, being neither of his brothers had taken a wife. His experience lay with the children of the townsfolk here in Logan Meadows. He held the door for Nate, then took his hand, which the boy allowed. The child’s palm in his own conjured up a nice, homey feeling, reminding him of his own pa on the farm. He and Nate went around the building to the staircase leading to the apartment. Ivan’s nails clicked on the wooden steps as he followed behind.

Inside, Albert moved a handful of papers off the chair by the front window where Nate would have a view of the comings and goings on Main Street. “Have a seat here while I pick this place up.”

In ten minutes, most of the clutter was stuffed away, and he had a nice glass of cool water to offer his son. He took the seat opposite, feeling uneasy, and studied the child’s profile as Nate kept his attention trained outside. Ivan lay beside the boy’s boots, which hung halfway to the floor.

Where to begin. “So, Nate, I’m happy to meet you. I’m your pa.”

Nate glanced over, blinked, looked back out the window.

“How old are you? I’d guess around five.”

Nate nodded. “Yes, Pa,” he replied dutifully, never taking his
gaze from outside where he seemed to feel most comfortable looking.

Was it too soon to ask if he knew why they were coming to Wyoming? Or, maybe, they weren’t coming to Logan Meadows at all, and this was just a peculiar coincidence that the train had crashed here and they’d met. He wondered if his brother Corey had any information that could help him sort this out. He’d send a telegram just as soon as he was able.

“I’m sorry I haven’t gotten the chance to meet you before now,” Albert went on, the strain of the silence hanging over their heads. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Nate fussed in his chair, getting comfortable, then turned to Albert. “I like to make puzzles, shoot my slingshot, or draw my letters.” Releasing a deep breath, his shoulders slumped and his eyelids shuttered to half-mast. Albert wished he would lie down. “But mostly I like to hunt for frogs in the creek.” He made a face. “Nana doesn’t like it if I get my pants wet.”

Nana? Albert wondered if Nate was referring to Floria’s mother, a true force to be reckoned with. To the best of his recollection, Floria’s father had died long before they’d ever met. But, he couldn’t trust anything he thought he knew. “Women usually don’t like boys to get wet or muddy,” he agreed. “I used to like to go frogging myself when I was a boy. I’d dip the frog legs in egg and then roll ’em in corn batter. They fried up mighty tasty. You ever have them that way?”

Nate shook his head.

“Your uncle Win enjoys ’em, too. Did you like seeing the livery after eating your donut?”

He nodded.

“Do you know if you have some trunks on the train? Can you remember?”

He nodded again, and opened his mouth in a wide yawn. His lids dipped, and momentarily stayed closed. He rallied. “We had three.”

Three trunks? That was a lot. Was Floria coming to stay? He had so many questions he’d like to ask Nate, but not if it brought up bad memories, or got him thinking about his ma and that she was dead. He’d have to watch what he said. “Men are retrieving the trunks off the train today. We should have some of your things here by tonight, and if not then, tomorrow.”

Ivan let out a loud whine and stood up, again laying his head in Nate’s lap. That brought a small smile to the boy’s face, a smile that resembled Floria’s.

Albert’s heart lurched. So much had gone wrong, more than he even knew. Shame for abandoning the son he didn’t know existed warred with his fury at Floria for keeping him in the dark. But even that emotion was placated by the astonishment and love he felt when he looked into Nate’s eyes. And what about Susanna? His heart skipped a beat when he thought of their upcoming talk. Would she,
could she
understand his silence on the whole matter? Would he forgive her if the tables were turned? He didn’t like to think it, but bad news might be on the horizon.