35

“Robert, thank God you came!” Grace cried.

He untied her wrists while she sobbed, then she threw her arms around him.

“You have your horse to thank for that. Cinnamon came back to the boardinghouse, and I knew something was terribly wrong. I’m glad we got here in time.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs, then cradled her face between his hands. He winced when he saw her cheek was cut, and a nasty lump above her brow was swelling. It might have turned out so differently . . . His prayers for Grace earlier had been answered.

He held her while she cried, clinging to him. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” Robert stroked her hair, which had fallen from its pins and was now a tangled mess about her, and his heart softened. He almost never saw her hair down. It made her appear feminine and vulnerable. “Sweet Grace. I’m so sorry this happened,” he soothed.

When she was all cried out, she looked at him through swollen eyes. “Warren was angry because I broke it off with him, but he also didn’t like me finding him with someone in the woods. I don’t know what it was about. Still, he wouldn’t let me go.” She hiccupped.

“Is that right? We need to tell the sheriff about that. I have a hunch he’ll get to the bottom of this after we tell him, but we can talk about it tomorrow. Let’s get you home now.” He yearned to sit right where he was, holding her to his chest, listening to her breathe. But Owen would be worried by now that she hadn’t returned home.

It was drizzling rain when they made their way to the farm with Grace and Robert both on Cinnamon’s back. Robert talked about the weather to keep Grace’s mind off the last hour with Warren until he noticed her head nodding from his shoulder to his chest. Sometimes that was the way the body dealt with a bad experience or bad news. He’d seen it before.

Owen was standing at the door, looking out with a worried face when they arrived. Grace woke up, and when she saw her father, started to sniffle as Robert carried her to the front door. He knew she didn’t want to break down in front of Owen and was holding back the tears.

“Land of Goshen, Grace. I was worried sick when you didn’t come home,” Owen sputtered, running his hand through his hair.

Robert carried Grace past Owen, whose mouth had dropped in question as he followed them both inside. Once Robert had placed her on the settee, Grace spoke.

“Pop . . .” But she could say no more.

Owen stepped to his daughter’s side. “Grace, please tell me what happened.” When he got closer and saw her cheek and head, he gasped. “Lord, have mercy. Who did this to you?”

“I’m okay now, Pop, only a little bruised and frightened,” she answered.

Owen sat next to her, taking her hand. “Robert, what happened to my daughter. Did someone try—?”

“Yes. I can vouch for that. The man is in custody. It was Warren.” Robert watched as Owen tried to process what he was telling him.

“That low-down scoundrel! I knew there was something strange about that man the last time he was here,” he said after Robert relayed the events to him. “Thank you, Robert, for being there.”

“I’m glad that I was, and with the sheriff’s help.” Robert looked at Grace. “Owen, if you’ll tell me where to find something to clean her cheek, I’ll do that before I leave.”

After he’d cleaned Grace’s wound, Robert said, “I think I’ll go on back to town now, Grace, and tell the sheriff what you saw before Warren attacked you. It’s the same thing Tom saw weeks ago, and I have a feeling that the wagon was loaded with the goods meant for Eli’s mercantile. Warren must’ve made a deal with someone to sell the shipments and pocket the money.”

Robert squeezed her hand, then turned to Owen. “Can I borrow a horse? I think Cinnamon deserves a rubdown and a rest, and I’ll do the rubdown before I leave.”

“No problem, Robert, and thank you again.” Owen blinked a tear away and blew his nose.

Robert, still concerned for Grace, said, “Get some sleep. You’re safe now.”

Grace nodded numbly.

Despite the late hour, Robert thought he’d stop by and let Ginny know about Warren. It’d be good to have her here with Grace tomorrow, and they should know the facts about Warren, if they didn’t already. Giving Owen a pat on his back, Robert went to take care of Cinnamon, who still stood patiently in the yard, before he took a fresh mount.

“Just a minute,” Ginny called out to the loud knocking at the door. She and Frank had just retired to the parlor after dinner to talk about his business. Who could be here at this hour? She pushed the lace curtain aside on the door and saw that it was Grace’s hired man. What in the world did he want at this time of the evening? She hoped it wasn’t Owen taking a bad spell suddenly.

She opened the door. “Robert, come in. I’m surprised to see you.”

He had a somber look on his face as he stood in her foyer with his hat in his hand. Frank came into the hallway where they were. “Anything wrong with Owen, Robert?”

“No. It’s Grace.”

“Grace?” Ginny inhaled sharply. “Is she all right?” Frank grabbed her arm protectively.

“She is now, but she’s a little shaken up. I thought you should know that on the way back from town after she did some painting for you, she was attacked by Warren, your employee.” He looked from her to Frank.

Ginny’s hand flew to her face. She could hardly believe it. “Oh no,” she cried, trying not to think the worst.

“For goodness’ sake! Robert, I was about to tell Ginny that I fired Warren today, but I never knew he’d do something so horrendous.”

“You did?” Ginny jerked her head around to look at her husband. “I must go to her.” A knot coiled in the pit of her stomach, and she prayed Warren hadn’t . . . No, she mustn’t think that. Robert said she was all right.

“I’ll take you,” Frank said to her. “I won’t let you go alone.”

“No,” Robert said. “I mean, she’s resting now, but could you go in the morning? I think the sheriff is going to want to talk to you tonight, Frank.”

“Me? I don’t understand,” Frank barked.

“There’s a little more to what Warren might have been up to besides working for you.” Robert donned his hat. “I’m going over to the sheriff’s now. If you want to come along, I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, of course. I won’t be long, honey.” Frank kissed her brow.

They left and Ginny returned to the parlor but couldn’t sit still. She paced the floor and moved knick-knacks around while her mind whirled. Was it Frank’s firing that caused Warren’s attack on her friend, or was it the other mysterious issue that Robert referred to? Either way she was glad that he would be out of their lives. She was sorry she’d ever set Grace up with him. She eventually sat down, rubbing her abdomen with soothing strokes. It was growing larger every day. The rhythmic movements seemed to calm her and the kicking baby inside her womb. She lowered her head, praying for Grace, and waited for her husband to return.

“Have a seat,” the sheriff said, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. Robert and Frank sat down. The building they were in housed the small jailhouse and sheriff’s office. A portrait of Andrew Johnson hung behind the desk. Down the tiny hallway to the back was where the prisoners were kept, but Robert didn’t hear a sound coming from Warren’s cell. Which was a good thing, or he might be tempted to take care of him—for good. Heaven help me. He struggled to hold his temper in.

“John, I can’t believe what’s happened tonight, and if what Robert told me on the way over here is true about Warren confiscating Eli’s supplies, then I’m shocked,” Frank sputtered in anger. “I felt he was up to something else besides working for me, but I couldn’t imagine this!”

Sheriff Mendenhall harrumphed. “You mean there’s more to the story?” He glanced over at Robert.

“Yep, but it’s actually another story. Grace told me she caught Warren tonight exchanging what she thought might be money for a wagonload of goods. That’s when Warren got furious. I don’t know who he might have sold them to, but Tom mentioned seeing the same sort of thing a while back.”

“Why do you think the goods are stolen?” the sheriff asked.

“Because Eli has been missing deliveries for a while now, and he thinks his name has been forged on the receipts.”

“It bears checking out. Is it okay if I go speak with Tom?”

“Sure. I think he’ll corroborate Grace’s story.”

“Could be Warren was selling supplies to the Blackfeet or the miners in Alder Gulch—he could make a big profit,” Frank inserted. “I wanted you to know, John, that I fired him this morning. He was always gone hours from the office and alluded to the day he’d be wealthy, but I thought he meant with his own law practice. Little did I know . . . I thought I’d checked his references well enough.” Frank sighed.

The sheriff had been taking notes, then looked up. “Thank you both for coming to tell me this. You can rest assured that I’ll get to the bottom of it. He’ll be transported to Virginia City where he’ll face trial, so he won’t be back. That’s almost certain.”

“I need to get back to Ginny, who I’m sure is worried,” Frank said. “Thanks, John, for the good teamwork with Robert.”

Sheriff Mendenhall stood, shook their hands, and walked them to the door. “I’ll lock up here, then walk over to talk to Tom to verify his story. He’s not in bed, is he?”

Robert laughed. “I doubt it. I’ll see you over there. I need to get a bite to eat, if there are any leftovers, and I’m sure Stella wouldn’t mind feeding you too, John.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”