Chapter Eight

Two hours later, Gila Bend came into view. Mixed feelings warred in Naomi’s chest. The town that had once been her home, the townspeople her friends, now seemed alien and frightening. For a moment, she considered turning tail and running. Then she reminded herself why she was there. Mentally, she scolded herself for being a coward. After all, these men had risked their lives to get her here.

And here she’d stay.

At least until she found the person who’d framed her. Now all she had to do was figure out who that was. She’d had a lot of time in prison to think about it. She listed the suspects in her mind. She blew her breath out in disgust—she had no suspects, other than the man of her nightmares. Roy hadn’t had any business associates in the area that she knew of. Nor any enemies that she knew of. One person she did want to talk to though was the woman who testified that her friend Rita had been Roy’s mistress. Naomi still found it hard to believe Roy had had a mistress. Surely, she would have known that, felt it someway…a woman’s instinct? Wouldn’t she? Hopefully, the Morales woman was still in town. Naomi could only hope that her presence would chase someone from the woodpile.

Wes pulled up beside her. “Well, we made it.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks to you and the other men. I was very naïve to think I could’ve made it on my own. I never dreamed…someone would try to kill me, that someone wanted me dead.”

“Well, we fooled them. Now that we’re here, what are you going to do? Have you thought about that?”

“Nothing but that.” She pushed her hat back and swiped a hand across her brow.

“What’s your plan?”

She barked out a sharp laugh. “Sadly I don’t have one.”

He chuckled. “At least you’re honest—but I think we should talk about it.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

He frowned. “Where are you going to stay?”

“Well, I’ll stay at my ranch of course.” She glanced at him. He grimaced, looking like he’d just ate something bad. Butterflies churned in her stomach. “What’s the matter? Why are you looking like that? What’s wrong?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“It’s not your ranch anymore.”

She reined in her horse and stared at him. “Of course it is. You’re lying. Why would you lie about that? That’s cruel.”

“Sorry, honey, but it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” Wes took his hat off and slapped it against his leg, sending dust flying through the air.

“But how? I don’t understand.” Despite her resolve to cry no more, tears slid down her cheeks.

“It was sold for back taxes.”

“But we didn’t owe any back taxes. I paid them all on time. Myself.”

“You’ve been gone three years though.”

“But they can’t do that, can they?” Her voice rose.

“I don’t know, I guess so. You could probably get a lawyer and fight it, say you didn’t get legal notice, but I’m not sure it would do any good. When they put you in jail, you lose all your rights.” He patted her arm. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Naomi. I thought you knew.”

Panic threatened to take her voice. “All my things too? Even my furniture? My clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know who bought…everything?”

“No. We can probably check the public records and find out. But what good will that do?” Her tears brought a lump to his throat. “So what will you do?”

She wiped her hand across her eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll study on it. I’ve got some money left. I’ll get a room at the hotel. Maybe I can find a job.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” He put his hat on and pulled the brim low over his eyes. “Folks here got a long memory.”

“Well, they’d better get used to seeing me. I plan to be here a while.” Despite her brave words, Naomi’s heart rose in her throat, and she thought she’d choke. She tightened her hands on the reins. “Let’s go.”

“Naomi, wait. Why don’t you let me take you out of here? Denver or San Francisco? No one would know you there. You could start a new life.”

“Would you? Would you leave, Wes?”

He shook his head. “Nope, guess not.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m not running. Besides, aren’t you forgetting something?” She locked gazes with him.

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be investigating me, not helping me get away.” She nudged her heels against the mare’s flanks, and the animal surged forward.

As she rode into town, she straightened in the saddle and notched her chin up. She’d not cower before the good people of Gila Bend. As if on cue, the streets filled with townfolk. Several women pointed at her. “Why, it’s that Brecker woman, the one who killed her husband and his floozie. What is she doing here? Of all the nerve.”

An old man threw a rock at her. “Get out of town. We don’t want the likes of you here.”

“That’s enough,” Wes yelled from behind her. “Back off.”

The man retreated, but the curses and comments continued. It took everything Naomi could do to not turn tail and run. The Rocking R hands closed around her.

As they rode up to the hotel, the clerk came out on the porch. “Just keep riding. We ain’t got no room.”

Wes grabbed her mount’s reins and pulled the animal to a halt. “But, Wes, he said he doesn’t have—”

“I heard him.” He dismounted, as did the other men, and motioned for her to climb down. As she slid from the saddle, he lifted his saddle bag and nodded for her to bring hers. She did so and followed him up the stairs into the lobby.

The hotel clerk scurried inside. “Now, Marshal, I done told you that we aint got no rooms.”

“I think you do.”

“Sure looks like it to me,” John chimed in. “I think my pa will be interested in the answer. Lots of his friends, too.”

The clerk’s face paled. “You got no right to do that.”

Wes leaned over the counter and snagged two keys off their hooks. He pulled money from his pocket and tossed it on the counter. “Come on, Naomi.” He turned to the men. “Let me get Naomi settled, then the drinks are on me. I’ll meet you at the saloon.” He motioned to her. “Let’s go.”

“All right.” She turned to John and Joseph and the others. “Thank you. Those words aren’t sufficient, but”—she sniffed loudly—“they’re all I got.”

“Shucks, ma’am, weren’t nothing,” John said, his face turning beet-red. The other men echoed his sentiments.

She kissed him, then Joseph and dashed up the stairs. Wes’s footsteps echoed behind her. He caught up with her and led the way down the hallway to room 5. “This is your room. I’ll be right next door. Don’t open the door to anyone but me.” He handed her the key. “Lock it. Put a chair under the door knob.”

“All right.” She stepped into the room, tossed the saddle bag on the bed, and turned to him. “Thanks…again.”

He nodded and turned to go.

“Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

He grinned at her. “Always. Try to get some rest. I’ll be back later, and we’ll go have a bite to eat. Okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

When he left, Naomi locked the door and jammed a chair under the door knob. She walked to the window, swept the curtain aside, and stared down at the streets below. The town looked the same, but it felt hostile. She had been prepared to face animosity, but the intensity of it shook her. Maybe she’d made a mistake by coming back here.

She was so tired even the sagging bed looked inviting. She moved the saddle bags and stretched out on the lumpy mattress. A few wiggles made her comfortable and soon her eyelids grew heavy.

When she awoke, shadows had crept across the floor. Dusk had fallen over Gila Bend. And thankfully the nightmare had not come. She’d slept well, in a dreamless sleep. She climbed out of bed and padded over to the window. Gila Bend looked docile, but she knew anger and hostility simmered beneath the calm façade. It was almost tangible, circling around her neck like a noose. She gulped, forcing down the lump in her throat.

Below in the street, a man appeared, striding purposefully down the sidewalk. Two women slowed and sent admiring glances his way. He touched the brim of his hat as he passed them.

Wes Cooper was one good-looking man. Tall, lean but muscular, and incredibly desirable. Yet he had a look around him—a dangerous aura that said he knew how to use—and would use—the six shooter tied down on his thigh. A woman’s man—and a man’s man.

He headed across the street toward the hotel. As he neared, he glanced up at her window. He must have seen her because he tipped his hat in her direction. Although tempted to wave, Naomi turned away. She had to distance her feelings—and quickly.

In a few moments, a knocked sounded at her door. “Naomi, it’s Wes.”

She opened the door. Wes stood there, that killer smile on his face, his thumbs stuck in his belt. “Ready for dinner?”

“No” sprang to her lips, but she bit it back. She was hungry, and she didn’t fancy going down to the dining room alone. As her mother used to say, don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. “I need ten minutes to change clothes and freshen up.”

“Sure thing. I’ll do the same. Meet you at the top of the stairs in ten.”

“Okay.” She closed the door and hurried to her saddle bag. Thank goodness Sally had given her a few clothes. She could at least look presentable, not that anyone cared. She selected a green dress that fit her as if it’d been made for her. She shook out the wrinkles as best she could, then slipped it over her head. With long sleeves, a vee neckline, fitted waist and full skirt, it accentuated her slim figure. She pirouetted in front of the mirror. Before she left, she ran a brush through her hair and pinched her cheeks to heighten her color. She looked good, and she knew it. Wes had never seen her dressed-up before. What would he think?

She huffed out her disgust. In one breath, she promised to distance herself from him, yet in the next instant, she wanted to please him. She’d gone loco—plumb crazy. She gathered her courage and left the room.

Wes waited at the landing. He’d changed shirts. The blue of the shirt matched the blue of his eyes. His dark hair had been slicked back, but an ebony curl had slipped loose and fell over his forehead.

When he saw her, he whistled softly. “Wow. You look amazing…beautiful.”

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He grinned. “Thanks. You ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes…I think so.”

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and stuck it into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s show these yahoos what a real woman’s made of.”

****

As they neared the dining room door, Naomi’s footsteps faltered. Only Wes’s hand at the small of her back kept her feet moving. As they entered, an eerie silence settled over the room as hostile eyes glared at them.

“There’s a table by the window,” Wes said and steered her toward an empty table off to one side.

Muttered voices followed them. Without Wes by her side, she couldn’t have faced these people alone. If she were going to stay here, she had to get a thicker skin—and soon. Wes pulled the chair out, and she slipped into it, pulling her skirt around her like a shield.

An old man appeared at the table and handed two menus to him. “What can I get you folks?”

Wes’s eyebrows lifted. Naomi too was surprised that the waiter had offered no resistance to serving them. “What would you recommend?” Wes asked.

“Can’t go wrong with steak, I always say.”

“Sounds good to me. Naomi, what would you like?”

“A steak would be fine.”

Wes handed the menus back. “Throw some potatoes on there, would you? Maybe some biscuits. And we’ll have some coffee.”

“Okay.” The man walked away.

“Didn’t expect such a pleasant reception.”

“Me neither,” Naomi said. “Especially when everyone else looks like they could…shoot us or…something.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

“Want me to get you a jacket?”

“No, thanks.”

The old man reappeared with a coffee pot and two cups. “There’s sugar in that there dish,” he said, then left.

Wes took her hand in his. “So, Naomi, tell me what you’re going to do now, and what you want me to do, if anything. How do you plan to find out who killed your husband and that…woman—without getting yourself killed first?”

She jerked her hand back. “I don’t know…for sure. I guess I need to find a place to stay first, and I want to talk to Rose Morales. She’s the one who testified that her friend, this Rita Jones person, was having an affair with Roy. I think someone put her up to lying about that, why I don’t know.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You don’t think Roy was having an affair?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t at first, but after sitting in prison for three years and thinking on it, I’m not so sure. He never talked to me about, well, anything. Told me all I had to do was be…his wife. Sometimes, he was so distant. I never knew what he was thinking. I did love him though, and I think he loved me.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at her eyes, then hurriedly put it away. She didn’t want any of these townspeople to see her crying.

“Well, maybe, and I’m just spitting out theories here, so don’t get your feathers ruffled, but since the Jones woman was found dead beside Roy, maybe she went to him and said unless you leave your wife, I’m going to tell her about us, and maybe Roy killed her.”

“I’ve thought about that, thought about it a lot.” Naomi took a sip of her coffee. “But I don’t believe that either. I guess I’m, maybe I’m too naïve or something…I don’t know. I know Roy is said to have killed a lot of people, but I just can’t see him killing a woman…like that.” Her voice trailed away.

A tall figure appeared in the doorway. Wes’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and Naomi glanced in that direction. Her appetite disappeared, replaced by a knot in her stomach. Sheriff Bert Russell, his badge gleaming on his vest, stood in the doorway. Her hopes lifted—a tad. Sheriff Russell had been kind, almost fatherly, to her during the trial. Why, she didn’t know. She’d not had any dealings with him prior, but she’d appreciated his kindnesses. He’d never really believed her innocent but had done his job and investigated thoroughly. Roy had never seemed to like the man but had never said why.

And from the look on Wes’s face, he didn’t like the man either.

When the sheriff saw them, he headed in their direction. “Howdy, Cooper.” He stopped and extended his hand.

Wes ignored the gesture. “Howdy, Bert.”

Russell’s eyes narrowed, and he withdrew his hand. Then he laughed. “Didn’t expect to see you in Gila Bend.”

Wes shrugged. His blue eyes mirrored his dislike. So, Roy, from one side of the fence, and Wes, from the other side of the fence, both disliked, or distrusted, Sheriff Russell. Confusion knotted her brow. She must be missing something.

“So what are you doing here, Cooper?” the sheriff persisted.

Another shrug.

“He was kind enough to escort me,” Naomi explained.

The sheriff turned to her. “Well, Mrs. Brecker, I’m as surprised to see you as I am him. When did you get out of prison? I ain’t heard nothing about you getting out.”

Naomi bit her lips to keep a sharp retort at bay. “For your information, that is, if it’s any of your business, I’m a free woman. I’ve been pardoned by the governor, not that I’m guilty of anything.”

“What did you come back here for?”

“And why not? There’s still a lot of unanswered questions, Sheriff. I’d still like some answers.” She crumpled her napkin, then quickly lay it aside.

“Everybody here has already closed the books,” he retorted. “I doubt anybody will even talk to you.”

“Well, I want to talk to some of them, specifically Rose Morales.”

“You ain’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“She’s dead.”

“Dead? When? I don’t understand.”

With his thumb, Sheriff Russell pushed his hat back. “Poor girl. Got herself killed by some drunken cowboy. Terrible shame.”

“But that can’t be…” Naomi’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest. All her questions…would never be answered.

“When did this happen?” Wes asked.

Russell tapped his forefinger against his lips. “Hmmm, let’s see. It was shortly after the trial. Maybe two weeks afterward.”

“Quite a coincidence.” Wes’s lips curled into a sneer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wes shrugged. Again. “I guess you investigated the murder.” His eyebrows lifted in question. “Did you find the killer?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately, he got shot while trying to escape.” A smirk trailed across Russell’s face before he hid it.

“All tied up in a neat little bow.”

The waiter appeared with their food. Wes turned his back to Russell, dismissing him. “If you’ll excuse us.”

After a moment, the lawman slouched off.

“Oh, Wes, I can’t believe she’s dead.” Her voice trembled. “I feel sorry for the poor girl. I don’t know why she lied, but that’s terrible. I’ll never get answers to my questions now. I’ll never know what really happened.”

Wes patted her hand. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

“No.” She choked back a sob. “No, no, no. I need answers. To put this behind me, I have to know why. Can’t you understand that?”

“I understand your life is in danger. Since the Morales woman is dead, and you can’t talk to her, let me take you away from here.”

“If you were in my shoes, U.S. Marshal Wes Cooper, would you leave? Tell me truthfully.”

“Well, no, but—”

“That’s right. You wouldn’t leave, and neither will I. Maybe my presence alone will shake the bad apples out of the tree. If I can’t find anything out in, say a month, I will leave. After all, my ranch, my home, is gone, too.”

“Whenever you make that decision, whatever it is, I’ll be there.” He cleared his throat. “So now let’s eat. This steak looks delicious.”

****

Wes followed Naomi up the dimly-lit stairway. She stopped in front of her room and turned to him.

“Thank you…again. I feel like I’m always thanking you…for something.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.” He stretched out his hand. “Give me your key. I’m going to make sure everything is clear—no unwanted guests. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Oh, okay.” She handed him the key and stepped aside.

He unlocked the door. “You stay here.”

She nodded.

Wes pulled his gun, then opened the door. He peered inside. Although the room was dark, he saw nothing. No movement disturbed the stillness. He stepped inside the room and walked around, stooping to peer under the bed. “All clear.”

As Naomi walked into the room, he pulled a match, lit the lamp, and turned to her. “Lock the door and stay inside.”

“I will. Well, good night.”

She licked her lips—as if asking him to kiss them. That was almost his undoing. But while he wanted to pull her into his arms and ravish her mouth, he couldn’t let his emotions control him. He walked out into the hallway. “Sleep well. I think I’ll grab a drink at the saloon. Lock the door and stay inside.”

“All right.” She disappeared behind the door.

Wes waited until he heard the key rasp in the lock. He stared at the closed door, wanting to knock it down and drag her across the hall to his room…to his bed. He sighed deeply—that could never happen, must never happen. He made his way down the stairs and out the door. A few strides took him down the street to the Silver Spur saloon. Music and laughter spilled out of the smoke-filled room. His experience had shown a saloon was a good place to pick up information.

As he pushed open the swinging door, the odor of cigarettes, liquor and unwashed bodies assaulted him. For a moment, he reconsidered his decision, but he caught a glimpse of Bert Russell at the bar. He checked his gun, then walked in and sauntered to the far end of the bar, turning to face the people. The hostility in the room was almost tangible, and his gut clenched, that familiar feeling when danger was in the air. The piano player deserted the piano, and a hush settled over the room.

The bartender appeared. “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey.”

The hum of voices resumed. Wes sipped his drink. It burned all the way down. He scanned the room. Russell was the only person he knew. One of the girls, a brassy blonde, strolled his way, her hips swaying provocatively. His first inclination was to shake his head, but he quickly changed his mind. She might be a good source of information. Maybe she’d even known the Morales woman.

“Well, hello Marshal. You that there lawman who brought that Brecker woman to town?” She moved closer to him, so close she rubbed against him. Her heavy scent was overpowering.

He studied her—she’d been pretty once. Now age showed in the wrinkles around her eyes—and the hard line of her jaw.

“Yeah, that’d be me. What’s your name, honey?”

“Dolly.”

“Nice name. I like it.”

“My daddy named me. Said I looked like a china doll.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

“I can see why,” he lied.

Dolly’s face broke into a smile. “I like you, honey. Buy me a drink.”

“My pleasure.” He motioned to the bartender. “Bring the lady a drink.”

At the word ‘lady,’ Dolly almost purred. “Thanks, Marshal.”

“You been in Gila Bend awhile, Dolly? I don’t remember seeing you before, and I sure would remember you.”

“Oh, sugar, ain’t you sweet? Yeah, I been here about five years.” She sipped her drink. “I like it here.”

“So you were here during the Brecker woman’s trial?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know Rita Jones or Rose Morales?”

“Yeah, I—” Her eyes widened, and she clamped her lips shut.

Bert Russell appeared at her side. “Hey, Dolly, Pete’s looking for you. He needs to talk to you.”

“Sure, Sheriff, I’m going—right now.” She finished her drink in one gulp. “Thanks, Marshal.” She rushed off, almost running.

Wes eyed Russell. “Must have been important.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Russell pushed his hat back. “So how long you staying in town, Cooper?”

Wes shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

“As long as what takes?”

Another shrug.

“What?” Russell persisted.

Wes ignored the question and gulped the last of his drink. He fished a few coins from his pocket and tossed them on the bar. Without another word, he turned and left. He’d got what he came for. Russell had not wanted Dolly to talk to him.

Why?

He stopped on the sidewalk, lit a cigarette, took a drag on it, and scanned the town. Only a few cowboys loitered on the street. Music blared from the saloon behind him. One of the cowboys stepped off the porch and walked over to his horse. Wes tensed. He couldn’t swear to it, but the gray gelding looked familiar—like the one that had been following him and Naomi. He wanted a word with that cowpoke. He tossed the cigarette aside and walked quickly toward the man.

His movement alerted the man because he hurriedly jumped in the saddle and rode off into the darkness.

Wes’s senses yelled a warning. At that moment, a scream pierced the air. He glanced in the direction of the sound and saw a dark figure on the hotel balcony.

Naomi.

He pulled his gun, shot at the man on the balcony, and broke into a run.