15

Cassie stared at the deed on the table.

After reading it yet again, she placed all the other papers she’d decided to save back into the drawer. She would sort them all again in the daylight.

Jason had said the wagon was hers. It had belonged to her father personally and was not the property of the show. And Wind Dancer was hers, a gift from her father. But did he know about the deed in the drawer? She doubted it, or surely he would have said something. He always just referred to the valley as her father’s dream. Had there possibly been a slightly derogatory tone at times? She thought back. Strange how all these things were coming to her mind now.

She glanced around at all the cupboards and drawers. Where to keep it. She needed a safe place. Opening her trunk, she dug out her mother’s Bible, slid the envelope in between the pages, and put it all back in place. What had her mother known about the valley? Had she ever heard them discussing it? She thought back. Her mother referred to it as his dream valley. That’s what it was. After looking at the date on the deed, she’d realized he had paid for the land before he went into the Wild West show business. What had happened to that land in all these years since? Did someone else build a ranch on it? He’d always said the soil was so rich that the grass would be belly deep on the cattle.

Taking the paper out of her mother’s Bible, she read it again. Yes, the deed had been recorded at the county seat in Rapid City, although the seal was difficult to read. She studied her father’s signature. What had he been thinking then? Did he know he was going to start a traveling show, a Wild West Show, as it came to be called. Had he dreamed they would one day form a trio called the Dashing Lockwoods? Had he met Jason Talbot yet? Oh, so many questions she wanted to ask. She hoped Chief would have some of the answers. If she could get him talking.

A knock on the door brought her attention back to the present. “Yes?”

“You want Runs Like a Deer to sleep in here tonight?” Chief asked.

“Of course. Micah might have to help her back in.”

“He’s on first watch. She could sleep out here.”

“No.” Cassie removed some papers from the bunk and opened the door. “Your bed is ready for you.” She stepped down and stood aside to let the Indian woman approach. “Here, use me as a brace.” With Chief on one side and Cassie on the other, they helped the woman up the steps so she could sit on the bed. Cassie heaved a breath of relief. “Did that hurt, jarring your leg like that?”

“Some.” Runs Like a Deer lifted her splinted leg up onto the bed. But when she struggled to pull up the quilt, Cassie stepped in to help.

“You need anything else?” She thought for a moment the woman might smile, but instead she closed her eyes, signaling sleep. Cassie pulled her hammock out and attached it to the hooks before retrieving her bedding from the cupboard she kept it in. After removing her boots she blew out the lamp and, wrapping her quilt around herself, snuggled into the hammock. One of these days she was going to start wearing a nightdress to bed again. One of these days she was going to do all manner of things—take a bath, wash her hair, scrub her clothes. A soft snore greeted her from the other bed, so she didn’t bother to say good-night.

Othello’s barking woke her up. While sometimes he barked at wild animals passing through, this was his deep warning bark. She rolled out of her hammock as quietly as she could and drew a pistol from the holster she kept hung on a peg at the end of the bed.

“What do you want?” Chief called, loud enough for Cassie to hear.

“Whatever money you got.” The man’s voice sounded slightly muffled. Was he masked?

“No money.”

“I heard about a wad of bills. Now, just don’t go movin’ around. Stay where you are.”

Who knew she had a roll of bills? The storekeeper, of course. He must have been bragging about it to someone else.

“Hey, there in the wagon. I got your Injun friend covered here, and if that money don’t come out, I might have to shoot a hand or somethin’.”

Should she bluff or not? Shoot or not? The thought of actually wounding a human being made her stomach twist. “I can’t see in here. I have to light a lamp.”

“You’re stallin’. Now, I’m gonna count to three. Might just start with this here big dog.”

Not Othello. “Wait a minute.” She tried to make her voice sound like an order, but it squeaked on the end in spite of her.

“About a minute’s all I got.”

“I told you I can’t see in here. I have to light a lamp.” She dug for the matches, dropping them on the floor. Calm down. Hands shaking, she found a match and struck it, then lifted the chimney to light the wick. “Okay, I’m lighting the lamp. Surely you can see that there is light in here now.”

She heard a gun cock. Go out the door with guns blazing or toss out the money? Come on, Cassie, you starred in a Wild West show, not an Old West town.

“Okay, you got light. Now don’t go throwin’ the money. You give it to the Injun here, and he can bring it over to me, nice an’ gentlelike.”

Cassie opened her trunk, dug down for the roll, and holding the money tightly, slammed the lid shut. How could she prove who did this? Surely there was a sheriff around here somewhere. This was all the money they had. “Are you all right, Chief?”

“Ya.”

“Tell Othello to back off.”

“Did.”

“One . . .”

“I’m coming.” She unwrapped her rifle.

“No guns.”

She laid her revolver and the rifle on the table.

“Two . . . and make sure that fifty is still on the roll.”

“I’m putting it in a bag so it doesn’t fly all over the place.” Has to be the store clerk or someone he told about my visit there. Why did I ever take that roll of money into the store anyway? A bag. Find a bag. She snatched one off the hook on the wall. The roll of money caught on the edge of the bag and several bills peeled off. The fifty and ten and then a dollar bill. She flipped through the rest. They were all dollar bills. Jason just needed to feel important. She almost laughed aloud. Shame to lose what they had, but it was not nearly as sad as it might have been. She’d been thinking they had far more money than they did. She stuffed it all in the bag.

“All of it.” Impatience colored his voice.

“Here it is.” Cassie opened the door and stepped onto the stairs. She didn’t recognize the big man, who had a bandanna across his face.

“Nice an’ easy. If you drop it, you come pick it up.”

She tossed it to him, and he caught it with one hand.

“You got anything else?”

“No, and now how will we eat?”

“I’m sure you’ll figger out somethin’. Girl with all your skills.” He nodded toward the wagon so bright in the moonlight. “I should come search that wagon.”

“Still won’t find anything.” Please, Lord, keep Micah away. She couldn’t see Chief around the corner of the wagon, but she kept sending thoughts his way to stay still.

No one’s life or health were worth that roll of money, or any money, for that matter. Please stay where you are, both of you.

“Much obliged, miss.” He touched the tip of his gun to his hat, spun around, and tore out of the camp.

Cassie vaulted back into the wagon, grabbed her rifle and shells, and leaped out the stairs. She took three steps while loading and raised the stock to her shoulder. The moonlight showed a man riding away. She squeezed the trigger, shoved in another shell, and fired again. Was that a yelp she heard? If so, he might be injured, but he kept on going. She knew if she’d aimed lower she might have killed him. But she was right before. No money was worth a killing.

She lowered her rifle and clamped her teeth, shaking her head. He got away. The dirty rotten excuse for a man got away with all the cash they had. And it was all her own fault for taking that roll of bills to town.

She tamped down the fury, but it smoldered very much alive in her middle. His horse had a white star and a blaze down its nose. While he’d worn a bandanna over his face, he couldn’t hide his height. Was it worth going back to town and confronting the sheriff there, if there even was one? They had to keep a watch on the cattle, but did they need one on the camp too? When would they get any sleep?

“Going to relieve Micah now.”

“Good. Sorry, Chief.”

Chief grunted and swung aboard his horse.

Cassie climbed back in the wagon, put her guns away, and closed up the cupboards. “Some bad people around.” Runs Like a Deer spoke softly so as not to startle her wagon mate.

“Guess that’s always the case. He didn’t get as much as he thought.”

“How did he know you had money?”

“From the supplies I bought at the store.”

“Hmm.”

“Good night.” Cassie wrapped herself back up and slid into her hammock. Morning would be there before they knew it. They’d have to make a decision then. Go back to town or continue on.

She woke with one thought—she had to get their money back. But what if the authorities are looking for me regarding the show? The thought intruded, but she ignored it. Feeding and taking care of her friends until they could set up in her father’s valley was the most important thing.

“I’m sorry,” she said as they gathered around the fire for a breakfast of scrambled eggs with venison, slices of the bread from the store, and hot coffee.

Chief and Micah looked at each other and then back at her. “Not your fault,” Chief said.

Cassie decided not to waste the time arguing. “I am riding back to town to get it back.”

Chief shook his head. Micah stared at his hands. Runs Like a Deer copied Chief.

“Look, we will soon need supplies again. We need the money.” Why did she feel like she was arguing with posts? “Is there enough grazing here for another day and night?”

This time Chief nodded. “Slow us down.”

“I’m aware of that.” She finished eating and went to the fire to refill her coffee cup. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You want Micah to go with you?”

She thought a moment, then shook her head. “I’ll ride your horse, Chief, so no one is tempted to steal Wind Dancer.”

She was on the road in minutes.

This time when she rode into town she looked first for a sheriff’s office, then a doctor’s. She stopped in front of a stone building with a sheriff’s sign hanging over the door. Sucking in a breath of confidence, she dismounted and flipped the reins over a hitching rail off to the side. Pulling open the heavy door, she made herself stand straight as she entered.

A clean-shaven man with a receding hairline looked up from the papers spread on his desk. “Can I help you?” The badge on his chest pocket announced his position.

“I hope so. I need to report a robbery.”

“I see.” He stood and picked up a chair to set in front of his desk. Motioning for her to sit, he walked back around the desk and pulled a piece of paper out of a drawer. “First, I’m Sheriff Timmons. And your name is?”

“Cassie Lockwood.”

“You don’t live around here.”

“No, we are on our way to Rapid City.”

He laid down his pencil and folded his hands on the desk. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.” He frowned. “Lockwood. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Have you ever been to a Wild West show?”

He nodded. “Some years ago.”

“My father was part owner of a show that traveled the train routes west. We played in Fargo and Dickinson, in Omaha, but never in South Dakota.”

He squinted to think better. “More recent than that.” His eyes widened. “You drove a fancy wagon into town. Yesterday, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “Bought supplies at your general store.” She huffed a breath. “That’s where I made my mistake.”

“Shopping at our store was a mistake? I have a hard time believing that. Old Otto has a great reputation, best store in the region.”

“Well, if Old Otto has a loose tongue, he caused the robbery.”

Sheriff Timmons leaned back in his chair, hands locked behind his head. “You better tell me the rest of your story. What was your mistake?”

“I had a roll of bills and, like a fool, brought the whole thing in with me. To pay my bill, I handed him a fifty, and he said he couldn’t change that. I needed to go to a bank. So I found a ten and a dollar under the fifty and gave him that.” She watched the man’s eyes, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Okay. And?”

“I returned to my group, and we drove on a few more miles before we camped. In the middle of the night, a very tall masked man rode into our campsite, and at gunpoint he threatened to shoot my friend, and my dog too, if I didn’t give him the roll of bills.”

“And you complied?”

“I did. One doesn’t argue with a gun like that. I put the money in a bag and gave it to him. He threatened to search the wagon but decided to take what he had and leave. I ran back inside, grabbed my rifle, and shot after him. I heard a holler, so I may have wounded him but not enough to slow him down. We discussed just going on, but Sheriff, that was all the money we had, and we have a long ways to go yet. So I rode back, and here I am.”

“You say you shot at him?”

“Yes, but I didn’t shoot to kill.”

“In the moonlight? At a man riding away on a horse?”

“Yes.”

“And you learned to shoot where?”

“From my father. Sheriff, I am a world-class shooter, but I don’t usually aim at people.” Why did she get the feeling he was not quite believing her? “I am also a trick rider. My father taught me that too.” She paused. “I aimed high.”

“Would you recognize this man?”

“He was pretty tall, he talked rough, and he had a dark horse with a star and a narrow blaze down to a white nose.”

“That’s more a description of the horse than the man.” He stood. “Was he taller than me?”

“I think so.”

“You think so is hardly an accurate description.”

“You could check with the doctor and see if a man came in with an injury.”

“I could and I will.” He wrote some things on his paper. “You have no address, then?”

She shook her head. “All I want is my money back.”

“You have others traveling with you?”

“I do.”

He tapped his pencil against his chin and then shoved his chair back. “You wait here, and I’ll go check with the doctor.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“I’d like to come along.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I’d like to ask him some questions is all.”

Sheriff Timmons shrugged and pushed back his chair. “You’re welcome to go shop in the store until I get back.”

She stared at him. What kind of an offer was that? She started to answer and caught a glint in his eyes. He was teasing. “No thanks. You see, I don’t have any cash.”

He ushered her out ahead of him and locked the door as he went. Pointing across the street, he said, “Right over there.”

Three steps and she quit trying to match her steps to his. He too was a big man. He pushed open the gate of an unpainted picket fence and took the two steps to knock on the front door before pushing it open and ushering her in. The room would have been the parlor if the house were being used for its original purpose, but while chairs lined the wall, a desk blocked the hallway. A desk with no one there.

“Doc, you here?”

“Coming.”

A thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and graying hair pushed aside the curtain. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“You treat anyone for a bullet wound late last night or early this morning?”

“That I did. Why?”

“Where?”

“Well, right here.”

“No. I mean, where was the wound?”

“On his upper right arm.”

“Did he say how he got it?”

“Said someone accidentally shot him.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. Her shot had been no accident.

Who is he? Give me a name. Why she wanted a name so badly she wasn’t sure, but they obviously knew who her thief was.

She glanced at a clock on the desk. Ten o’clock already. She was wasting an entire day.

“Did he pay you?”

With my money? Cassie had a hard time keeping her words to herself.

“He did. That was the amazing part. You know, with that passel of kids Big Alfred has, he never has any cash money.”

“I can’t picture him holding anybody up, though. Not Big Alfred.” The Sheriff turned to Cassie. “He must have been some desperate.”

“You know who he is?”

“Well, I’m fairly sure. Just having a hard time believing he would do something like this.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” The doctor looked from Cassie to the sheriff. “What happened?”

“A man on a horse robbed us last night of all the money we had. We’re camped south of town. I purchased some supplies at your general store yesterday. He knew that I had money.”

Doc looked to the sheriff, who shrugged. “You going to bring him in?”

“What choice do I have?” Timmons turned to Cassie. “I’ll ride out and get him. You can wait at the office.”

“Please make him bring my money with him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Will it take you long?”

“No, he lives just a mile or so out. His kids walk to school.”

She followed him out the door, pausing to toss a thank-you to the doctor over her shoulder.

“On second thought, why don’t you wait over at the hotel in the dining room, have a cup of coffee.”

“You forget, Sheriff. I don’t have any money.”

“Tell ’em to put it on my tab.”

Cassie stared at the man’s back as he strode to his office. He who had started out so brusque was now offering to buy her coffee. What did he expect from her? She shook her head and did as he said.

When she told the young woman waiting on her table what the sheriff said, the girl nodded. “That’s Sheriff Timmons all right. Tries to be hard on the outside, and he can be tough, let me tell you, but then the inside is soft as goose down. He really cares about the people in this town. We’ve never had a man like him in the office before.”

“He was barely civil when we started out.”

“That’s him. Be right back.”

Cassie looked around at the comfortable dining room. Red-and-white-checked tablecloths and curtains at the windows, boards with brands burned into them on the walls, a few framed pictures, one of a stern couple, looked to be a wedding picture. Gaslights in sconces on the walls, a stone fireplace with a merry crackling fire.

The serving girl returned, setting a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie in front of her. “Forgot to ask if you want cream.”

Cream, what a treat. And pie. “But I can’t take this pie. I mean . . .”

“Don’t you worry none. That’s what he would order for you. Trust me, apple pie is the way to that man’s heart for sure.”

Cassie gathered her courage together. “Is he married?”

“Nope. But not ’cause all the girls and women around here aren’t trying. Says he’s waiting for the perfect woman.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Just between you and me and the lamppost, he’s gonna look a long time.”

Cassie swallowed the rest of her questions and took a bite of the pie. Cinnamon and apples and a crust to float up to heaven on.

“Cook does good with pies. She’s known all over the region for her pies and her chicken and dumplings. Her brisket ain’t bad neither. Why, hon, you act like you had no pie for a long time.”

“If you only knew.”

“Gotta go.”

Cassie watched her greet a couple who just came in the door and, with a smile, show them to a table. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad town after all, now that she was getting to know it a bit.

She was making her second cup of coffee last as long as possible when the sheriff walked in with a tall man wearing a sling on his arm. Surely she’d not injured him that badly.

Sheriff Timmons pulled out a chair and motioned for Alfred to do the same. The man stared down at the table, not meeting Cassie’s scrutiny.

The young woman brought the coffeepot and two more cups. “Pie will be right up.”

“Did you try Odell’s apple pie?”

“Thank you.” She nodded toward the serving girl. “She insisted. I’ve not had pie since we left Dickinson.”

“That’s Sally serving us.” He grinned at her when she put the pie in front of them. “Thanks for the pie and for taking good care of our guest here.”

“You’re welcome. Holler if you need more.”

Timmons looked at Cassie. “You want another piece?”

“No, thanks. Coffee is just fine.” As was sitting on a chair, at a table, with good food and unlimited coffee. He had no idea how fortunate he was. She turned her attention to the man across the table.

When he looked up at her, she saw the most woeful eyes she’d ever seen.

“I took your money, miss, and I want you to know I would never have shot your dog or the Injun.”

“You sure sounded like you would have.”

“I’m sorry.” He dug in his pocket and laid the fifty-dollar bill and the ten on the table. “This is all that’s left. I bought some food for my family and paid the doctor with the rest.”

“Do you know how much there was in the roll?” Timmons asked Cassie.

She shook her head. “I’m sure not a lot—the rest was all ones.”

Alfred nodded.

“It was Otto’s loose lips, all right. Whatever possessed you to do this, Alfred?”

“I just thought to get some food in our house. Thought they’d go on down the road and not miss it. Thought with their fancy wagon and all that they had plenty. I never stole nothing before in my life, and I won’t again.” He looked at Cassie and then pushed the money toward her. “I can’t say when I can pay the rest, but . . .”

Cassie heaved a sigh. “Look, I did a stupid thing too, so you don’t need to worry about paying me back. I’ll take this, and we’ll be on our way. You sure put on a good act last night.”

“It’s easy to be big behind a bandanna.” Timmons pushed his empty plate away. “I’d say she’s being mighty good to you.” He turned to Cassie. “You’re sure you don’t want to press charges?”

“I’m sure. We need to get to my father’s valley before the snow comes. This way we can still put some miles on today.” She rose and pushed back her chair at the same time. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

He smiled at her. “If you ever come back this way, let me know.”

Back on her horse, Cassie replayed that smile. His whole face had changed. His voice had changed. What on earth had happened back there?