Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(66)

The bird didn’t soar onward, over the next peak and out of sight.

Instead, it landed.

A long way down, in a thick stand of trees. But it definitely found its stopping place. It’d gotten home.

Molly’s heart sped up. “Did you see it?”

“I did.” Cheyenne reined her horse toward the trail, Falcon only a horse length behind.

“I surely did.” The sheriff kicked his horse to follow. John went next.

Wyatt, his eyes sharp and ready for trouble, said, “I’ll bring up the rear.”

Molly looked at him for a long second. There was so much ahead of them. The first thing was going to be hard. If their prayers were answered, they’d be facing a cornered killer. Fighting for their lives. If they weren’t answered, an evil man would go free, and he’d attacked them before. Just because he’d been found out didn’t mean he might not come at them again.

Nodding, Molly leaned across the distance between their horses and kissed Wyatt soundly on his cold lips.

He kissed her right back. “Get going, woman.”

He smiled at her, and she nodded and headed after John.

They were almost there. Almost to what was likely the hideout of a murderer.

A cowardly murderer who hurt defenseless women. But someone had shot Wyatt near Hawkins’s place. Molly hadn’t considered Hawkins a likely suspect for the crime at the time. Now she knew he was almost for sure guilty. It was a cowardly act, and that sounded just like him.

Though they rode bent low, every one of them kept a sharp eye out, and not a shot was fired. They reached a clearing, and a tumbledown cabin stood there, brush grown up close to it on all four sides. A shanty of a barn behind it.

“Hawkins! Come out.” John surprised them all with a powerful voice. Threatening. Furious.

No one stirred. The snow came down heavily, twisting and dancing on the wind.

“It’s empty.” Cheyenne clucked to her horse and rode it straight toward the cabin.

“Cheyenne, no, wait.” Falcon pulled her up, when she wouldn’t have stopped for too many people.

“What is it?”

“We’ll leave tracks. Look, there’s a nice even powder of snow all around that place. The trees block the wind. If we all ride up there, and he’s out hunting or finding firewood, he’ll see we’ve been here. Let’s hide the horses in the woods and think about how to approach the cabin. Maybe I could walk in from the back, pick spots where the snow is swept away, then hide in the house to wait for him. The rest of you hide in the woods.”

At that moment, one of the pigeons fluttered up from the back of the house and flew to them. A second one came soon after. They landed on the crate, and Wyatt tucked them inside. He had a pocket full of seed, and he tossed more grain to them. They happily cooed and fluttered as they pecked it up.

“It looks like a one-room cabin. No one’s in there, but it’s the right place. The pigeons prove that.” John swung off his horse and led it into the woods. “Let’s see how this fool likes someone coming at him from cover.”

“Let’s get off the trail quick and hope any tracks we left are covered by snowfall.” Cheyenne went toward the opposite side of the trail.

“I watched our back trail. With the wind and the rocky path, there’s not much to see.” Falcon followed his wife.

“And, Falcon,” John said, “I can tell you’re a fine tracker, but if one of us goes in that house alone, I want it to be me. I’m a trained investigator, and I might see something in there you’d miss. Clues aren’t always obvious.”

“I need to get in there, too,” the sheriff said. “This is in my territory, and I’m the only recognized lawman here.”

Falcon didn’t reply.

John vanished from sight into the woods to the east. Falcon went to the west, the sheriff hard after him.

“You go in on the same side as John, Molly,” Wyatt said. “I’m going to take a few seconds and fill in some hoofprints and footprints with snow.”

The woods weren’t easy to walk through. The trees were shouldered against each other. Old oaks and heavily needled pines, their branches weighed down with snow. Young trees growing spindly in the shade of their elders. Ancient tree trunks, broken off, almost impossible to get around. Prickly scrub brush filled in all the empty spaces.

Molly picked her way, following John’s footprints. By the time he had his horse tied, she was there, and he took her reins and hitched her horse beside his.

Then Wyatt came. She watched him smooth out the snow with an expert eye. But as he came close, well out of sight of the trail, he quit.

“I’m going to circle around and come in from the back.” John slipped away, leaving Molly and Wyatt alone in the cold forest.

Snow came down on their heads, light but steady. The wind had let up enough that their coats kept them warm.

“Let’s get closer to the trail so we can see if anyone is coming,” Wyatt said.

Molly followed.

He picked a hiding spot wisely, a boulder with bushes around the front of it. They were covered, but the trail was close enough to see easily.

Settling in behind the boulder, Wyatt crouched so he could watch, but for how long? They could be here for hours. All day. Maybe forever.

“This might be our best chance to have that talk, Molly.”