Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose(27)
“Morning, Mary Rose.”
“Sheriff.” She held the door open. “Won’t you come in?”
He pushed the door wide and entered. “Is the marshal here?”
She watched his gaze move about the room and rest on the pillows and blanket Trace had folded and left at the end of the sofa. The sheriff turned a penetrating glance back to her.
Her mind racing to come up with some reasonable explanation, her lips parted, but Trace’s voice spoke. “I’m here. Been here all night.”
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as the two lawmen stared one another down.
“Ask it, Rand. Let’s get this out in the open.”
Neither looked too pleased. She looked at Trace, then back to Sheriff Weston, wondering if they’d come to blows. She tried to smile but her lips trembled.
“Perhaps this can be settled over a cup of coffee. Sheriff, won’t you join us?” She slipped her arm into his.
“Lead the way.”
Giving Trace a silent stare that dared him to say a word, she led the sheriff into the kitchen. The golden glow of the morning faded. She felt like a child who’d had her Christmas toy stolen. Stepping into the kitchen, she was surprised to see a plate of biscuits and bacon already on the table. She turned and looked at the marshal. “You were up early.”
He moved forward and drew out her chair. “I had things on my mind.”
The statement brought a gruff grunt from Sheriff Weston, and Mary Rose felt her cheeks heat. Ignoring the impulse to snap back, she took the seat. “Gentlemen, won’t you sit down?” She waited. Trace moved to her right and the sheriff took the seat on the left. She noticed only two plates. “Let me get you a plate.”
“I’ve got it,” the marshal grumbled as he retrieved one from the cabinet.
“Coffee?” she asked brightly.
The sheriff reached for the pot. “Allow me to pour.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “My arm is still a bit sore.”
As Trace sat down, she asked, “So, what brings you here, Sheriff?”
“I went to the office this morning and found Trace’s room empty.”
“I can explain that. He spent the night here.”
At her words, both men sputtered, choking on their coffee. Seeing their startled and angry looks, she continued, “Last night, when I turned out the light, I saw a man outside, watching me.”
Sheriff Weston put down his cup and listened as they explained the events leading up to Trace’s decision to stay.
“So you think whoever is responsible for the attack on the wagon has figured out that Mary Rose is alive?”
Trace nodded. “That’s my take on it.” He pushed his empty plate away. “So for that reason I’ve decided, as our only witness, she is under protection.”
Mary Rose thought about the papers locked up in the other room. She took a deep breath and felt the eyes of the lawmen turn on her. She studied her cup.
“Mary Rose, is there something you need to tell us?”
Her head jerked up. She dampened her lips with the edge of her tongue. “I’ve told you all I know,” she replied. Her words sounded void of emotion.
“You’re sure?”
She looked over to Trace, then quickly glanced away. Her heart beat heavy against her chest, and she wondered if he could hear it. “Positive,” she answered.
The silence between them seemed long. To break the scrutiny of his glare, she picked up her cup and sipped. Staring straight ahead, she hoped to calm her nerves, which seemed to be near to snapping. She didn’t like lying, especially to a man like Trace.
“From this point on,” he growled, “someone will have to be with you at all times.”
Her eyes darted to his. “What about the investigation into my brother’s death? Who will conduct that?”
“It will be conducted,” the sheriff said. “I’ll pick a few men who are discreet to walk you to and from the freight office.”
“I will walk her home and spend the night on her couch,” Trace added.
Feeling caged, Mary Rose stood. “Well, I’m so glad you all have everything under control.” She knew the marshal could feel the sarcasm laced in each word. “I can take care of myself.”
“A broken window and a hole in a door say otherwise.”
She squared her shoulders, her anger taking control. Opening her mouth to give a pointed retort, Rand interrupted.
“Mary Rose, until we are sure who we’re up against, you’ll have to permit our intrusion,” he explained.
“Perhaps,” she snapped. “But, I don’t have to like it.”
She stood and carried her cup to the dishpan. Chair legs shrilled as they scraped the floor. The sheriff and Trace had left the table. She sensed Trace next to her, and she turned her head to look into his concerned eyes.
“I am sorry, Querida, but you must be safe.”
Her chin tilted. “Catch the men who killed my brother, and you will make me safe,” she urged and watched him dip his chin toward his chest. She waited for him to answer. A tear escaped her lashes. She looked up and brushed it away.
“Come, let me walk you to work.”
****
Setting to work, Mary Rose concentrated on her notations in the ledger until she heard a knock at the door to the office. She looked up from her ledger to see the sheriff standing in the doorway.
“Afternoon, Mary Rose.”
“Afternoon.” She put down her pencil and flexed her fingers. “I didn’t realize morning had come and gone.”
“A few hours ago,” he commented. “I’m hoping you won’t bite my head off if I ask to come in?”
“No.” She sighed. He smiled back and crossed the floor to the desk.
Leaning to the left, she looked back to the doorway. “Where’s your shadow?”
Sheriff Weston eased his body into the chair. He grunted and turned his head to look. She watched the left corner of his mouth pull up.
“You must be talking about the marshal.”
“One and the same.”
“Oh, well, he’s doing some leg work on the case.”
Her ears perked up. “You’ve gotten a lead on my brother’s killers?”
“Er, not quite. I’ve got four men out checking the caves around Coyote Canyon and waiting on the army man.”
She wrinkled her brow and looked at him. “And the marshal?”
“He’s fixing the window over at your place. That boy is death on a house.”
Putting her pencil down, she closed the ledger and thought about how close she’d come to ending Trace’s life. “That, I’m afraid I have to take responsibility for.” When Rand didn’t respond, she looked to him.
He stared at the brim of his hat, which rested upon his knee. She knew there was much more to his visit than the replacement of the glass in her window. The harbinger of fear raised its ugly head and clutched at her heart with its cold fingers. “You have something you want to say to me?”
Rand didn’t look up. He expelled a deep breath and nodded. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I’m gonna need to get your statement on what happened.”
She sat back. “I knew this was coming.” Her mind felt blank. She shook her head, for it was no time to be gathering wool. “I suppose today is as good as any.”
He stood. “Now that that’s settled, how about joining me for lunch, and then we can go to the office. Besides, it would do an old lawman’s ego good to be seen with a pretty woman. I hear the hotel’s serving roast beef.”
His statement brought a chuckle to her lips. The sound seemed almost foreign to her ears. “It’s not your ego that I worry about. I want my brother’s killers found.”
“We’re looking, Mary Rose. I promise you.”
She nodded. Smiling at his warmth, she slipped her hand beneath his arm and they moved toward the doorway.
“Going out, Miss Thornton?”
She glanced to the left, watched Mr. Gentry put down his pen, and smiled broadly.
“Yes, Mr. Gentry, I’ll be gone for lunch. I should be back in a few hours. If anyone comes in wanting to ship, please let them know we are doing short runs, with one long run at the end of the week.”
“Yes, ma’am. You have a good lunch.”
“Thank you. If you need to go to lunch, just lock up and put a sign in the window.”
“I will do so.” He nodded.
Caleb Gentry stood and watched them leave. Once sure they were gone, he stood and walked back to the office. Licking his dry lips, he cast a worried glance over his shoulder. With no one there, he knelt down and rubbed his fingers on the edges of his trouser. Then he gave a light touch to the combination lock. The dial turned and clicked as one tumbler fell into place. He blew out softly and turned it in the other direction. Five clicks over, the second latch caught.