"The town seems prosperous enough," Jessica mused to herself as she pulled her horse to a stop at the hitching rail in front of the general store. Most of the building fronts around her looked like they were actually part of the building, not a false front hiding a ramshackle structure.
She slid from the horse's back and gazed across the street at the bank. Not wood like the majority of the buildings, it had been constructed from bricks and even hewn stones hauled in from somewhere. The front windows gleamed and the gold gilt outlining the letters "Baker's Bank and Casualty" looked freshly painted.
Jessica turned back to loop the reins over the railing and nodded at a woman passing by on the wooden walkway. The woman wore a clean, but faded, gingham dress, with a freshly starched sunbonnet hiding her hair. The woman's mouth tightened briefly, but Jessica received a curt nod in return.
Something just didn't seem right, Jessica caught herself thinking. The town teemed with people, wagons and buggies — the usual week day bustle. Maybe it being a week day — a work day — was the problem. The gaiety that developed when people got together on Saturdays after a long week of work on outlying ranches was missing.
She and Ned had ridden through the section of town where the saloons had been built, but even those establishments held a subdued atmosphere. Only a house surrounded by beds of bright flowers set off by itself on the edge of town had caught her eye as having a cheerful air about it.
Jessica climbed the two steps from the street up to the walkway, with Ned right behind her. Something was bothering him this morning, too, but so far he hadn't said anything to her. Instead, he kept hovering around her like a cow that had just found its missing calf. She shrugged slightly. Knowing Ned, she would find out sooner or later what he had on his mind.
Two more women passed by, both of them eyeing her suspiciously before they returned the same brief nod as the lone woman had. These two wore more stylish dresses — perhaps they were two of the town's matrons instead of ranching wives — but the same strain filled their faces.
Jessica shook off the curiosity that Mattie had told her more than once led to her sticking her nose into places it had no business. Her only reasons for being in town were to pick up more supplies and give the sheriff notice about her two missing horses in case they showed up at one of the outlying ranches. She shouldn't be dwelling on the almost hostile atmosphere she found in Baker's Valley. Baker's Valley. Such a lovely name for a town with an unhappy feeling about it.
Ned held the door of the general store open and Jessica walked past him, unconsciously shaking her head.
The short, stout storekeeper stood behind the counter with his back to Jessica, one of his hands holding a dust rag as he brushed at the shelves. A white fringe ran around the bottom of his mostly bald head and Jessica smiled to herself when she caught sight of him. From the back, he looked like a small, jolly elf. But when he turned at the tinkle of bells over the door announcing new customers, a pair of flat, blue eyes in a lined face watched them make their way across the room.
Jessica threaded her way past barrels filled with apples, pickles and various other goods, sniffing appreciatively. The smell of leather saddles stacked nearby and harnesses hanging on the walls mingled with the food odors and a pang of longing for Mr. Georgeton's general store back home briefly shot through her. Then her eyes widened when she noticed a barrel filled with sawdust packed ice by the end of the counter.
"Oh good." She grabbed two bottles of sarsaparilla from the barrel and turned to hand one to Ned. "Look, Ned. Are you as thirsty as I am?"
"I'll thank you to pay for those first before you open them, Miss," the storekeeper's voice said from behind her.
Jessica gasped and whirled around. "Of course I mean to pay for them," she said in a controlled manner as she stared at the man's outstretched hand. "You don't think I'd just walk in off the street and help myself with no thought of paying for what I took, do you?"
The storekeeper shrugged and kept his hand extended. "Been known to happen."
Jessica set her drink down with a thump and reached into her riding skirt pocket to fish out her small coin purse. She snapped it open and met the storekeeper's gaze.
"How much?" she asked curtly.
"Nickel apiece."
Jessica carefully drew out the exact amount and dropped it into the man's hand. She watched him push the buttons on the huge register on the counter and place the money in the drawer before he looked back at her.
"Anything else I can do for you?" he asked in a more reasonable voice.
"I had thought to buy a few supplies," she fired back at him. "But maybe I should look for another establishment to purchase them from. One with perhaps a more friendly management, which would appreciate the money I spent more."
"Suit yourself. Only thing is, this is the only store in town's got the goods you need. Mr. Baker, he don't believe in too much competition."
"Baker?" Jessica questioned. "The same person who runs the bank across the street?"
"Yep. And the hotel and most of the rest of the town 'cept for Miss Idalee's place. And he don't just run them. He owns them."
"It looks like I'll have to deal with this Mr. Baker then," Jessica said with a sigh. "I'll need to have funds transferred from my bank back home to pay for my supplies. I don't suppose you'd like to have my order now, so you can begin getting it ready while I take care of the transfer?"
Something about Jessica's beautiful face above the stained and travel worn clothing melted a little of the man's arrogance. His face softened and Jessica caught a glimpse of the man she had thought she would see when she first entered the store.
"I really can't, Miss." He glanced to where Ned stood off to one side, allowing Jessica to handle the transaction, but keeping a comforting nearness to her.
"You understand, don't you, sir?" the storekeeper pleaded with Ned. "I only work here. I have to take orders from the owner, and I need my job. My wife, she ain't well and all our kids are gone. It's just me to take care of her and doctor bills ain't cheap these days."
"I understand," Ned replied with a nod. "Come on, Jes. We'll get things done at the bank and come back."
Jessica started to turn away, but stopped when she felt the storekeeper's hand on her arm.
"You forgot your sarsaparilla, Miss," he said when she looked back at him. Picking up a clean rag from under the counter, he wiped the sawdust from the bottle before he opened it and handed it to her.
"Enjoy it, Miss," he said. "It's truly a hot day out there."
Jessica nodded her thanks and turned to follow Ned. Once outside, Ned paused beside a wooden bench at the front of the store.
"Let's sit a moment and have our drinks before we go over to the bank, Jes."
Uh oh, Jessica thought silently. But she settled herself beside him, sipping at her cooling drink and unbuttoning the top button on her blouse.
The storekeeper was right. It really was hot out and she fanned herself with one hand and took another long drink of sarsaparilla. Her eyes scanned the passing parade of people and vehicles while she rested and waited for Ned to speak. She only hoped he would come to the point at once, and not spin out one of his long-winded tales like he usually did. There wasn't much expectation of that, though. Ned took his own sweet time making a point after he finally got started.
The town nestled in a beautiful setting. She had looked out at the surrounding countryside from the top of each foothill they passed over on their way here. South of them, the Bighorn Mountains, still snow capped, stretched their blue peaks into the distance and the rolling foothills they had passed through were green and fertile.
Jessica heard a train whistle from the other end of town and a cloud of smoke accompanied a screech of brakes when the train pulled into the station. Earlier, after spending some time searching out a suitable camp site where the men could wait for them, she and Ned had ridden across the tracks leaving town.
Jessica glanced to where the gelding she had borrowed from Patches stood tied to the railing, but his roan color reminded her too much of Cinnabar. Her eyes strayed to the street beyond the horse.
The street didn't lack for traffic, nor the boardwalk where they sat. Wagons passed each other, and now and then a buggy with a couple in it went slowly by. On both sides of the board walkway, people hurried along, some with their arms filled with purchases.
Only one lone old man Jessica took for a prospector didn't seem in a hurry to go anywhere. He stood leaning against a post on the other side of the street, his ragged hat brim tipped down and the post beside him supporting his slouched stance.
Tired of the long silence between them, Jessica nudged Ned's arm. "Do you notice anything unusual about all the people here, Ned?"
"Not many young folks 'mong them," Ned answered.
"Why, you're right, Ned," Jessica agreed. "I hadn't even noticed that. What I'd been thinking of was how tired and unhappy everyone looks."
"That, too," Ned said with a nod. "I don't think I'd like to live in this town."
"Me neither. Well, as soon as we get some supplies and see the sheriff, we can get out of here. But you know what else I think? I think maybe we better get a couple rooms at the hotel first and clean up before we go to the bank. The men don't expect us back until tomorrow anyway, and I'd sure feel better if I met this Mr. Baker looking a little cleaner than I do now."
Jessica started to rise to her feet, but stopped when Ned reached for her arm.
"In a minute, Jes. First, I want to talk to you about something."
Jessica sighed deeply and settled back on the bench when Ned turned to face her. "Spit it out, Ned. I've known all morning something was on your mind."
"Guess we both know each other pretty well, Jes. Hell, there was times I...."
"Changed my nappies when Mattie was too busy after my mother died," Jessica interrupted. "Yes, Ned. You've told me that before. How could we not know each other well, when just about every memory I have includes you and Mattie?"
"Then I guess you remember that little coyote pup you brought home?" Ned went on.
"What about it, Ned?"
"You remember what you told your daddy and me first about how you came to have that pup? How it had followed you home? Hell, that little pup wasn't hardly old enough to eat, let alone walk down out of the hills by itself."
Jessica's face took on a defiant look. "I didn't think Daddy would let me keep it! He said coyotes ate chickens and were a nuisance. And someone had shot its mother. I couldn't leave it out there to die, too. Besides, for heaven's sake, Ned, I was only six years old."
"But he did let you keep it, Jes. Until you had to set it free to go back to the wild."
"I remember," Jessica said with a sigh. "Daddy penned the chickens up after that so one of the men wouldn't shoot the pup by mistake if it came back."
"Yeah," Ned drawled. "You were only six years old then. I guess at one time or another, every little kid growing up thinks they can slip something over on their mommy or daddy. You never tried anything like that from then on."
"Are you trying to tell me I've lied to you about something, Ned? I don't appreciate that insinuation one damned bit!"
"Don't reckon you do," Ned said mildly. "And, no, I'm not saying you lied. You're old enough to have a right to your privacy about some things. After all, you're twenty years old — almost a woman grown."
"I am grown, Ned. I've had to be these last two years since Daddy died."
"Maybe so. Maybe that little tic on your face last night didn't mean nothing. Only thing is, the last time I saw that happen to you was fourteen years go."
Ned kept his gaze steadily on her, noticing the flush staining her cheeks and the way she dropped her brown eyes from his.
"You know, Jes, I never heard of nothing like what happened to us ever happening before. Whoever would of thought someone would steal our food, then slip back into our camp and leave us some more."
"Perhaps your ghost had a tender heart!"
"Maybe so. Sure are a lot of unanswered questions about the whole mess. Why didn't you call out to us when we were hunting you, Jes? We were close enough for you to hear us for a long time before you let us know where you were. Why'd you let us worry about you so long?"
"You're correct about one thing, Ned. I'm definitely old enough to have a right to my privacy." Jessica rose to her feet. "Now, are you ready to go over to the hotel? I'm also old enough to enjoy the thought of a good long soak in a hot bath."
Ned chuckled as he rose beside her. "Didn't used to, Jes. Why, I remember when we had to chase you down on Saturday night to scrub you in the tin tub before church the next day."
Jessica groaned under her breath and turned her back on him to stride down the walkway, but Ned quickly caught up to her and took her arm.
"Guess you'll tell me what happened out there when you get ready," he said quietly. "I just hope it's not something you should've let me know right away. Baker's Hotel is just a couple doors down," he said with a quick change of subject when Jessica flashed him a belligerent glare. "I saw it when we rode in. We might as well go there. Reckon from what I've seen of this town it'll be the only place renting rooms."
Neither of them noticed the old prospector cross the street and fall in a few yards behind them.
The moment they stopped at the hotel door, two men who surged through a set of batwing doors just down the street caught Jessica's attention. The men laughingly stumbled to a pair of horses tied at the hitching rail and fumbled with their stirrups. One man managed to climb aboard, then sat hooting at his companion's attempts to mount his own horse.
The horse shied sideways, tangling the man's foot in the stirrup momentarily before knocking him off balance. The man sat down, his rear kicking up puffs of dust from the street.
"Why, you stupid son of a ...."
"Watch it, Red," the man on his horse said. "There's ladies around here."
Red jumped to his feet and grabbed the trailing reins of his horse. "I don't give a damn!" he snarled. "This mangy cayuse has throwed me for the last time."
"Ain't the horse's fault, Red," the other man said with a guffaw. "It's all that redeye you drank inside." Throwing back his head, he laughed loudly.
Red snarled an oath and jerked on his horse's reins. The animal neighed loudly and tossed his head, protesting the bite of the spade bit in its tender mouth. When it danced away again as Red tried to mount, he brought the reins viciously down across the animal's soft nose.
"Stop it!"
"Oh, Lord, Jessica. Don't."