Three weeks after the shootings, Colt climbed on his horse and attempted to do his share of the work. The longest three weeks since prison. Strange how he’d always taken walking for granted. Now he counted the days until he could make his way around the ranch without limping. Nancy said he looked “grumpy,” but some of the other ranch hands had more colorful words to describe his aggravation.
He had a few suspicions about what was going on at the Double L. With nothing to do but think and read, he’d watched the men to see if any said or did anything out of the ordinary. One man stayed foremost in Colt’s mind, but until he found evidence, he’d keep his mouth shut and his ears and eyes open.
During the fourth week, Colt, Clancy, Thatcher Lee, and two other hands rode together for fence mending. It wasn’t one of Colt’s favorite chores, but he was just glad to be in the saddle instead of flat on his back. Anne and the girls joined them in a wagon with the fixin’s for a noon meal. Already the sun beat down hard. They needed rain, and the cracked, parched earth proved it. Midsummer in Texas gave a whole new meaning to fire and brimstone.
Anne smiled and waved from several feet away. Nancy called out to him. Even Sammie Jo waved—a first since she’d made it known how she felt about him interfering with her and Thatcher Lee. Lately Anne made sure Sammie Jo stuck to her side. Colt had talked again to Thatcher Lee and told him their boss was ready to fire him. So far the young man had steered clear of Sammie Jo.
Clancy had done nothing but grin all morning.
“What’s so funny?” Colt asked.
“Oh, I’m in a good mood. Thanks for returning my Bible,” he said.
“Yep, I saw you readin’it,” Thatcher Lee said. “Next you’ll be preachin’like Clancy.”
Colt laughed. “I’m not getting religious, so you two can wipe those holy looks off your faces. I like the stories.”
“I’m right tickled you’re reading it,” Clancy said.
“Yeah, it shows.” Colt wasn’t about to comment on his interest in God. But interest was all he had. Anne took a lot of stock in a man who knew God, and he wanted to know why.
Sitting in his saddle, listening to the familiar creak of the leather, and taking in the surroundings lifted his spirits; he felt a rare sense of peace. He’d grown to care for these people, something he never thought would happen. Before his release from Huntsville Prison, he hadn’t cared about anyone but himself. His life had changed, and he believed it was for the better.
Glancing to the right of him, he saw Anne slow the wagon until she drove beside him. He’d resolved to stay clear of her, but this morning it was real hard. He dug his heels into his mare and caught up with Clancy.
“You doin’ all right?” Clancy asked. Sweat dripped from his forehead.
“Yeah. I’m glad to be earning my keep again.”
“Good to see you on a horse and your face not all screwed up in pain. Any other ideas about what happened?”
“A few.”
Clancy glanced around. “So do I. Got my eyes on him.”
Colt nodded. Whether they suspected the same man or not didn’t matter. They both were anxious to find out who’d done the killings—not to mention who’d shot the two of them—and get ’em handed over to the law. He’d feel better when all of this trouble was settled.
Anne. She made an ordinary day fill up with sunshine. Colt sensed his heart had taken a plunge well-deep. While waiting on his leg to heal, he’d considered collecting his pay and riding out. Seeing her every day and realizing he’d never be good enough for such a fine woman depressed him. She’d loved one outlaw and ended up a widow. What more did he have to offer? Sure, he’d left the past behind, but what he’d done surfaced in his mind every time he thought they might have a good life together.
The day’s work nearly wore out Colt—not so much the fence mendin’ but the heat. His leg ached as he limped to the corral with Clancy. He sensed the old man had things to say. At times it seemed like the two of them had the same mind.
“Neither one of us is men who talk much about what we’re thinking.” Clancy leaned on the fence. “I enjoy teasin’ you and pushin’ you to think on the things of God. But accusing a man of murder is different.”
“I agree.” Colt sighed. “I’m still not sure if I should say what I suspect.”
“Don’t blame you, and I’ve known him longer than you.”
“Ever have any problems with him?” Colt asked.
“You know the answer to that.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Clancy shrugged. “Not enough to pin murder on him. He slacks when it comes to working unless Anne’s watching. Don’t like ’im. Never did. And I try to look for the good in a man.”
“Did you ever see him slipping away?”
“Sure have. He stuck close to Hank and Thomas until I caught those boys stealing cattle.”
“I thought both of you caught them.” Colt’s mind raced with accusations.
“Nope. Just me, and then he rode up.”
“He isn’t getting out of my sight.”
“Mine either. Although I can’t figure out why he would have murdered Hank and Thomas.”
Colt hesitated. Recollections of what he and Will used to do settled in his mind. “Maybe they knew too much about Will’s business, or he just got greedy.”
Clancy glanced behind them. “Hey, Thatcher Lee.”
The young man joined them. He placed his foot on the fence rail. “I’m real worried about Mrs. Langley and the girls.”
“We are, too, son.” Clancy stared out into the ever-darkening shadows. A few horses made their way toward them.
“I want whoever has caused this trouble found,” Thatcher Lee said. “I think the only reason the women went with us today was because it left no one there to defend them.”
“This is their home,” Colt said. “I know our boss can handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to tote a rifle to protect what’s hers.”
“Well, count me in on what needs to be done,” Thatcher Lee said. He stroked the head of one of the horses. “I wonder about our good sheriff. He’s never around when you need him, and he’s plum lazy.” With those words he turned and strode off toward the stables.
“What do you think?” Clancy asked.
“Nothing’s changed. I just want to know why.”
In her bedroom, by the light of the kerosene lamp, Anne counted the money in the cash box, the money she used for payroll. Last month it all balanced out, but this month she was two hundred dollars short. Where had it gone? No one knew where she kept it. Someone would have to search her room to find it. She kept it at the bottom of the leather trunk with the girls’ baby clothes and her parents’ Bible on top. Rosita? The sweet lady never set foot in Anne’s room. No, Rosita had not taken the money. But who had?
She shivered. Cattle rustlers. Murders. Money gone. Hard work and sleepless nights she could handle, but this shook her. Will would have known what to do. He’d have strapped on his Colts and cleaned up this mess.
Strapped on his Colts. The Peacemaker. Colt Wilson.
Her mind must be slipping to linger on a man who was most likely as rotten as her husband.
Anne shoved the cash box back into the trunk and eased down onto her bed. It squeaked, as it always had. She lay back on the quilt, the one her mother had given her on her wedding day—one of the few memories of Will that didn’t hurt. He’d lied to her and broken the law, and maybe he’d brought down this trouble on his family. Betrayal stalked her day and night, and she didn’t want to love a man who’d do the same thing again. Why couldn’t she fall in love with a man who wasn’t an outlaw?
Burying her face in her hands, she cried until not a single tear was left. Oh, God, what am I to do? I have Sammie Jo and Nancy to raise. Someone is murdering my ranch hands and stealing my cattle and my cash. A near-man has my Sammie Jo’s attention, and Colt Wilson is too good-looking and so very kind.
“Mama.”
Anne blinked, wiped her face, and took a deep breath. “Yes, Nancy.”
“My frog’s gone.”
“Come on in, honey.” Anne stood from the bed.
The door opened, and Nancy broke into tears the moment she saw her mama. “He’s run away. I just know it.”
“Are you sure?” For certain if the frog had died, Rosita would have taken care of the matter.
“Can we go find Mr. Colt? He’ll know where to look for Mr. Frog.”
Anne sensed the color drain from her face. “Honey, we can’t bother Mr. Colt. He’s worked very hard today.”
Nancy sniffed. “But he’s my best friend. He never laughs at me, and he talks to me like I’m all grown up.”
Oh, Colt has stolen more than one Langley woman’s heart. She bent to her daughter’s side. “Perhaps we can find your Mr. Frog. I’ll help you.”
Nancy wrapped her arms around her mama’s neck. “It’s no good, but we can try.”
Anne grasped her daughter’s hand and the lamp. Together they made their way through the house, looking here and there for one lonely frog. Satisfied it wasn’t inside, they stepped onto the porch.
“Mr. Frog,” Nancy called, “you don’t have to hide. I’m here.”
“Miss Nancy, did you lose your frog?”
At the sound of Colt’s voice, Anne’s legs felt like quivering matchsticks.
“Yes, sir. He’s run off.”
Colt mounted the back porch steps. He bent down to Nancy. “I’ll look, but you know what?”
She shook her head.
“I think he’s missing his frog friends. I know you take good care of him, but I bet he wants to be with his family and friends. What if you lived with him? Wouldn’t you miss your mama and Sammie Jo?”
“I would, sir. And I’d miss you, too.” She swiped at her eyes. “I want him to be happy. I’ll let him be free.”
“Your daddy would be proud of you.” Colt stood and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
Alarm took over Anne’s senses—the missing money and all the trouble at the Double L. “Nancy, why don’t you run along and get ready for bed?”
“Good night, little one,” Colt said. “Don’t forget to tell your sister good night.”
Nancy started to protest, but with a lift of her mama’s chin, she disappeared inside. A few moments later, Anne stared into the shadows at Colt.
“You have a good evening, ma’am.”
When he turned to leave, curiosity got the best of Anne. “Were you needing to talk to me?”
He shrugged. “No.”
“Then what were you doing up here?”
“I’d rather keep that to myself if you don’t mind.”
Anger simmered to a fast boil. “You’re snooping around my house, and you don’t want to tell me why?”
“That’s what I said.” He stiffened.
“Maybe you know more about what has been going on than you’re telling.”
Colt said nothing.
“Are you keeping something from me? Or are you involved?”
His fists clenched. “If that’s what you think of me, then I’m clearing out of here tonight.”
Regret washed over her. She rubbed her shoulders. “I don’t think you’re against me,” she said softly. “Colt, you know something you’re not telling me, and I don’t like it at all.”
“I’m not in the habit of accusing a man without proof.”
“What did you see here tonight?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“Nothing.”
Clancy appeared from the shadows. She held her breath.
“Anne, Colt won’t tell you what’s going on, but I’ll tell you. In fact, I’m part of it, too.”
“I want to hear all of it.” She whipped her attention to Clancy.
“We’ve been keeping watch on the house and barns at night. One night I do it, and Colt does it the next.”
Anger smoothed to near tears. She grabbed the porch post. “I’m sorry. I thought…I thought…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “If I’m to trust anyone, it’s you two.”
Colt stepped forward then back. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m heading back to the bunkhouse. Enough for one night.”
“That’s what I came to tell you,” Clancy said. “He’s missing.”
“Who?” Anne asked. “You have to tell me.” Her voice rose higher. “Please tell me.”