A Man with a Past by Mary Connealy

TWENTY-SEVEN

Win!” Kevin caught her before she hit the floor, swept her up in his arms, and carried her to a chair where he then sat, holding her in his lap. Andy rushed over with a cool cloth.

Cheyenne headed for Win, so distracted she forgot all about Mrs. Hobart for far too long. When her attention snapped back, Hobart was on her feet . . . not running. She rounded the table. Not making a break for the door, but rushing to Win’s side. Her eyes sharp. Taking in every word that’d been spoken.

Keen curiosity gleamed in her blue eyes.

Not like a woman who’d been sneaking in planning murder at all. More like a lawman. Law-woman in this case. One who’d just found a real big clue.

Falcon’s head snapped around to keep an eye on Hobart, and Cheyenne got the idea that he’d been paying attention to Win, too. Hobart had really missed her best chance to escape. Not that she’d’ve made it. But it was her best chance.

“What does it mean?” Cheyenne wanted to stand by Win. But Andy was at her head, bathing her face and neck with a cool cloth. He had a nice touch for a youngster.

Andy with the cool cloth. Kevin catching a fainting woman. Molly rushing off to calm an injured man. This whole family was too good in an emergency. They’d had a lot of practice, and it made Cheyenne want to get to know them. Want it a little.

Win’s faint didn’t let go easy. She was a long time limp in Kevin’s arms.

“She’s breathing steady.” Kevin sounded solid, like a man who’d seen trouble before. But he could barely tear his eyes away from his new wife.

It struck Cheyenne’s heart right to its dead center.

He loved her.

Her friend had found someone to love her.

Cheyenne and Win had shared a few girlish dreams since she’d come home from boarding school. They’d been too young for such things before she’d been sent away. And now, both mature young women, their talk had been more of work, the ranch, Win’s school. They were practical women after all.

But a few times they’d talked of what life they’d hoped to have one day, and of course they’d wanted fine, good-hearted, handsome men to come into their lives.

Cheyenne had a goodly number of chances; she was half owner of a fine ranch after all. But no man had stirred her heart. She hadn’t seriously considered Oliver Hawkins’s proposal until he’d restated it after she’d had her ranch torn away from her.

It had found a tender place in her heart to be wanted when she brought nothing to a marriage, no money, only herself.

But seeing Win held so gently in Kevin’s arms. To see his fear. To see Andy’s calm, competent hands. To know Molly would be here helping if she wasn’t upstairs taking care of Wyatt . . . it all hit Cheyenne hard.

Joy for her friend, no matter what had caused her to collapse. And sorrow for herself, because she didn’t have what Win had.

Cheyenne’s eyes wandered to Falcon. There was a man she might care about.

If he remembered who he was.

And remembered he wasn’t a husband.

And learned to love cattle ranching.

Yes, if not for that, he’d be a man she might care about. He had given her a puppy after all.

Leaving off her strange yearnings, she tried to reason out why Win had fainted.

“Amelia Bishop.” Cheyenne dropped the name into the room, pulling their attention away from Win, all but Kevin’s. “Why did that name make her faint?”

Hobart straightened away from where she crouched near Win’s feet, watching everyone. She came back to the chair she’d been sitting in. Put there by near force earlier, she now sat looking cool and very smart—not acting like a prisoner at all. She’d noted the same thing everyone else had, but it meant more to her.

“You tracked her movements to Bear Claw Pass?” Cheyenne asked.

“Yes, she arrived here over three years ago. It took me a while to pick up her trail. I couldn’t just show a picture of her around and ask if anyone knew her. And she’d been missing for nearly a year when her family hired me. They’d waited too long to start hunting. They kept expecting to hear from her.”

Cheyenne said, “The West is well-known for swallowing people whole.”

“Without admitting who I was, I poked around, asked questions that might open folks to talking without them realizing I wanted more than it seemed. It worked in Omaha and Kearney, other stops along the railroad line, and what I learned sent me here.

“Amelia definitely left the train here. She’d wired her father from here as she did from nearly every stop. Once I got to town, I listened to chatter here and there and decided a woman who matched her description might be the same one who was hired as a housekeeper on the Hawkins Ranch. Her family said she was looking for adventure, a ranch would’ve appealed to her.”

“You went out to see her, and she wasn’t there.” Falcon seemed to be ahead of the story.

“I found Oliver Hawkins had lost his housekeeper. He’d been without one for a while when I got there. The place was a wreck. His clothes everywhere, the whole place was in shambles. I found out he’d advertised for a new housekeeper but hadn’t found one yet. There was no evidence Amelia had traveled on beyond Bear Claw Pass, and he never mentioned her by name. But I needed to look closer out there. And to do that, I needed an excuse to stay. So instead of questioning Hawkins about Amelia, I applied for the job and got hired.”

“She vanished from my father’s house?” Win’s voice, weak and unsteady, turned them all toward her. Kevin hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but everyone else was listening strictly to Hobart.

Her face was ashen. Her movements uncoordinated. But her eyes shone with a steady, intense light.

“Your father has never told me much about his last housekeeper, never mentioned her name even when I tried to get him to talk about her. His story is that she just took off. Worked for him for a while, then without telling him she was unhappy there, she rode off one day and never came back. He didn’t like it, it was inconvenient, but he knew young women could be flighty.”

“Not all of them,” Win said, sounding grim.

“No, and though she was looking for adventure, Amelia apparently wasn’t a foolish girl. She’d’ve contacted her father if she was able.”

Hobart looked straight into Cheyenne’s eyes. “I need to get back to the Hawkins Ranch before sunup. I don’t want to do any more explaining to Hawkins than necessary.”

“Why were you sneaking around our property?” Cheyenne hated it that she found herself believing Hobart, even trusting her. It made her feel like a gullible fool.

“I was coming in quietly, and I guess that amounts to sneaking, but I planned to come to your back door and knock. Tell you what I was looking for and see if I could get your help.”

“No.” Falcon shook his head. “You weren’t going to tell us a thing when I caught you. You only agreed to talk when we wouldn’t let up about the sheriff. You weren’t going to tell us what was goin’ on.”

Hobart looked almost sheepish. “All right, you’re not wrong about that. I was going to try and—and get information from you that might open some new leads into Amelia’s disappearance. It’s what I do. I’m good at it. Tricking folks into telling me more than they planned to.”

Cheyenne wondered if they had all told her more than they’d planned to. Win fainting had for sure gotten Hobart’s attention. And she’d learned some things about Amelia Bishop.

“What do you think happened to her?” Win’s hands trembled as she rested them against her chest, her fingers entwined until her hands made one big fist. And she stayed where she was, held by Kevin.

Cheyenne knew how properly raised Win had been. If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d’ve never sat on Kevin’s lap like that in front of so many people.

“I think, Mrs. Hunt, that Amelia Bishop is dead.”

Win gasped and rested her forehead on that one big fist. An attitude of prayer, Cheyenne thought.

“As I said, she was looking for adventure, but she wasn’t estranged from her family. If she was somewhere settled or safe, she’d have contacted them. I have no proof, but I suspect she’s dead.”

“And who killed her? Isn’t that part of the p-puzzle you’re trying to solve?” Win raised her head, and her bright blue eyes looked hard at Hobart as if she was trying to bore into her brain.

“My job is to find her. If I find her alive, I’ll take her home. If I find her dead, I’ll arrest whoever did it, then tell her father where to come to visit the body. It’s too dangerous to think of as a puzzle. That’s a child’s game. This is life and death.”

Cheyenne watched Win, wondering if she’d say more. Explain what about this had knocked her off her feet.

“Cheyenne, it’s your home she was fixing to invade,” Falcon said. “You decide. The law or trust?”

Cheyenne’s jaw tightened. Everyone in the room was dead silent, until she could hear the clock ticking.

Finally, her eyes only on Win, wishing she could read her friend’s mind and understand what was going on, Cheyenne said, “Let her go back. If that’s a mistake, we’ll just round her up again.”

Hobart’s eyes narrowed, the insult hitting squarely since she’d been caught.

“And the next time we’ll take her to see Sheriff Corly.”

Hobart had a look in her eyes that said she’d welcome a good fight, but she just didn’t have time. She jerked her chin and headed for the door at a fast clip.

Cheyenne saw Falcon’s muscles bunch like he was going to make a grab for her. But he didn’t.

He stood aside and watched her take off. “We never asked about her being involved with Ralston. Or about being involved with Hawkins.”

Win moaned quietly. Shamed by her father, afraid.

That’s what Cheyenne saw in Win: fear.

She opened her mouth to demand some answers.

Kevin stood up, Win still in his arms. “I’m taking her out of here. She needs time to recover.”

He left the room, and like with Hobart, they didn’t stop him. Andy followed on his heels.

Cheyenne and Falcon turned to each other. Cheyenne felt so grim she didn’t think she could speak.

“We might’ve just let the woman who shot your brother walk out.”

Cheyenne gave a tiny nod of her head. “She told a good tale.”

“Truth or lies?” Falcon shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t tell. But I reckon you’re right. We caught her once. We can catch her again.”

Cheyenne crossed her arms and looked at Falcon, trying to decide if she’d let a would-be killer walk away.

They stood there, studying each other for a long, quiet time.

Finally, Falcon said, “Tomorrow, I’m taking out after Ralston. If he can be tracked, I’ll track him. But the longer we wait, the more I lose the trail.”

“I’ll come too.”

“No, you can’t. Not while Wyatt’s so bad. I’d like nuthin’ better’n to have you. You’re a fine tracker and a likely saddle partner. But Wyatt’s gonna get a fever, you know he is. Molly can do all the doctoring in the world, but he’s gonna need you with him. He’ll fight it off most likely if the wound doesn’t fester, but for a time, he’ll be helpless and confused, and you’re the only one he really knows and trusts. You can’t leave him.”

Cheyenne knew he was right.