Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(11)

They watched a clerk in a dark apron and white shirt open the front doors and begin to sweep off the entrance. Rand pulled out his pocket watch and opened it. “Nine o’clock. You can set your watch by Caleb Gentry,” he remarked as they ambled over.

Hearing them, Gentry paused. “Morning, Sheriff.” He nodded in Trace’s direction. “What can I do for you today?”

“Morning, Caleb. I was wondering if we might have a word with you.”

“Sure.” His brow puckered. “Anything the matter, Sheriff?”

“Got some news that will not sit well being said on the street. Mind if we step inside?”

The clerk’s eyes widened. He glanced over to Trace, and blanched as his eyes focused on the badge.

“Let me introduce Marshal Castillo. Trace, this is Caleb Gentry.”

Trace held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gentry.” The man grasped his hand and gave a firm shake.

“Likewise,” Caleb replied. “Come on inside.”

He stepped out of the way, and Trace followed Sheriff Weston inside.

“Mind the boxes. Day before yesterday’s freight took precedence, so we had to unload the wagons of what was already on there. Daniel, I mean Mr. Thornton, said to store it under lock and key until he returned. Best lock and key is here in the office.”

Trace glanced at the wooden crates with open sides. Very different merchandise from the sample he had stashed away in his saddlebag.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Gentry gestured toward the chair.

Trace let Rand take the seat, choosing instead to lean against the post. “What’s so special that you have to keep it locked up?”

“Well, I’m not rightly sure. Mr. Thornton would know. Most of our freight heads out to Fort Ewell, and he was headed there with an important shipment. He should be back by week’s end. What can I do for you?” The clerk took his seat behind the desk.

“You say you had to unload the cargo for the trip he was making?” Rand questioned.

The clerk nodded. “Yeah, we got the government shipment in, and Mr. Thornton didn’t want to keep it overnight. We made a quick switchover. Took most of the morning, even with Moe’s help. Miss Thornton didn’t like it one bit.”

“Why?” Trace questioned.

“She was on her way to visit a friend at the fort. You know women.” Caleb chuckled. “Always getting themselves worked up over a schedule. She wanted to be there in two days, tops.”

Trace gave Weston a hard glance. The sheriff shifted in the chair, ignoring his implication.

“So it takes two days to get to Fort Ewell from here?”

“Yes, sir, Marshal. Mr. Thornton and his sister had the two new wagons and the best teams. They should have made great time.” He glanced worriedly between the two law officers. “Say, is something wrong with the Thorntons?”

Trace waited for Rand to speak up.

“You could say that.” After a deep breath, Rand told the startled clerk what had happened.

“Sorry to hear that,” he murmured. “Is there anything I can do for Miss Thornton?”

“You can help us catch the killers.”

“Yes, Marshal, of course.”

“I’d like for you to find us the manifest for the shipment to the fort,” Rand said.

“Anything else?”

The sheriff nodded. “I think it might be best to close the office for a few days. Let Miss Thornton get on her feet.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Caleb nodded. “You reckon I should ship out the rest of this stuff?”

“I think that’s a good idea. Get it ready, and I’ll send an escort with you.”

“I’ll put a sign in the window. You know, the Thorntons are good people. Moe might be a bit slow, but they were good to him. Took him on when others didn’t want to.”

“Thank you, Caleb.” Rand held out his hand, and they shook.

Caleb turned his gaze to Trace. “You plan to help the sheriff catch who did this?”

“I’m going to do my best to bring them to justice,” he replied.

“I’m glad to hear that. Daniel deserves it. So does Moe.”

With pleasantries exchanged, the two lawmen made their way to the front porch of the freight office. Hearing the door shut and lock, Rand turned toward Trace. “You look like hell.”

“Hard sleeping in a chair.” Trace rubbed the back of his neck.

“I picked up your things at Doc’s and they’re at the office. I got a room upstairs you can use.”

“Good. Have to admit, with everything going on, I hadn’t given much thought to where I was going to stay.”

“So you’re going to get the bodies.”

“Yep, I made a deal with the undertaker. I told him to meet me at your office.” He turned and looked at Rand. “You say you took my saddlebags over?”

“Sure did.”

“Good. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Lead on, young fellow.” Rand’s eyes brightened. “I want to get this mess cleaned up, pronto.”

But it was not to be. The undertaker was waiting at the office.

“When you get back,” Rand said. Trace climbed aboard the wagon and, with a nod, they moved off.

****

Mary Rose lay in the quiet calm of the doctor’s extra room. She’d picked at her food. Even with the gentle urging of the Widow Hatfield, she’d eaten her fill. Not that she felt like eating much after that little talk with the sheriff when he showed up after the marshal left this morning. She knew there were questions that needed answers. Still, her head was not clear enough to give him any solid clues. If only she could remember what any of those men looked like.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the click-clack of Widow Hatfield’s wooden knitting needles as she added stitches onto the growing blue shawl. She’d told the sheriff that the marshal promised to bring her brother’s body and Moe’s from the spring. She wanted to remain awake for that. It was so important for her to regain control. She wanted to know that her brother’s body was back and that he’d be buried in the churchyard.

Mary Rose’s chest burned with raw emotion. How can I carry on without my brother? They were like a matched pair of horses. Both of them had been determined to see the freight business catch on and grow, and they were close, so close, to making it a success. Her eyes flashed open, and she stared at the ceiling. Who can I get to drive? Will they recover the missing wagon? The dull ache behind her eyes began again. She blew out a deep breath and heard the widow’s needles come to a halt.

“You need anything, dear?”

She turned her face toward the widow’s round one and whispered, “No, I’m fine. I’d just like to get out of this bed.”

Mrs. Hatfield lifted the corners of her mouth. But no pleasant smile could hide the pity in her eyes. It drew Mary Rose’s wrath. She didn’t need sympathy. She needed someone to find the men who did this to her brother and to Moe. Bless her! She wanted revenge. She wanted those men to pay for destroying her life. She wanted to punish them the same way they had punished her.

“I’m right here if you need me or need a shoulder to cry on.” The widow remarked, picking up the pace of her needles.

The sound seemed to mark the passing of time. Mary Rose needed to think of persuasive arguments to get the marshal to help her find these men. If only she had two good hands. She sighed and laid her good arm over her face to shield it from the light.

“Ah, Mrs. Hatfield.” Doctor Martin’s voice made both women jump.

“Land sakes,” the widow gasped, her hand flying to her heart as she captured both needles in one hand. “You gave me quite a fright.”

“Pardon,” he replied.

Mary Rose moved her arm and watched as he came in and opened a cabinet, fishing out a square of blue material, and she caught the twinkle in his eyes, as if he’d startled the widow on purpose. “I’m thinking Miss Thornton might like to get up for a bit.”

Eagerly, she pushed back the covers and attempted to pull her body erect.

“Hold on there,” Doc Martin fussed. He and the widow helped her ease into a sitting position. Mary Rose could tell her heart raced, but it felt so good to be sitting upright.

“No black spots?” he asked, searching her face.

“None.”

With a nod, he leaned forward to tie the ends of the sling around her neck. “This may hurt,” he warned her as he eased her arm inside.

She held her breath. There was a bit of pull, but the pain seemed manageable. “I’d like my robe,” she said, looking over at the widow. “Would you go to my house and get it?”

“Of course, sweets.” The widow nodded. “I’ll bring a brush and a few things to make you look tidy, too. That nice young man will be stopping back by, won’t he?”