Summer of Promise (39 page)

Though it sounded as if the corporal was telling the truth, at least about where he had been, Ethan could take no chances. It was possible Dietrich had done more than visit Leah. He might also have picked up a share of the stolen goods. Unfortunately, that theory did not explain the man who had left the barracks so stealthily.

Ethan nodded at the sergeant. “Take Corporal Keller to the guardhouse and keep him there until I return.” When the two men left, Ethan turned to Abigail. “Would you be willing to go with me? Leah’s more likely to speak to you than to me.”

“Don’t you believe Corporal Keller?”

Ethan did not answer directly. “I need to be certain.”

Abigail saw doubt in his eyes, as if he were as puzzled as she that a seemingly intelligent man would leave such incriminating evidence out in the open.

Ethan nodded shortly. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t try to corroborate the man’s alibi. Will you help?”

Of course she would. Abigail would do anything she could to help him. And Corporal Keller. Though Ethan might not be convinced, she was certain her pupil was innocent of anything more serious than having left the fort without permission.

When they reached the hog ranch, the yard was empty, but the sound of hoofbeats brought a woman out of the main door. Though she no longer wore the flamboyant crimson dress and her hair was more simply styled, Peg’s face was as angry as it had been the night Abigail and Ethan had found Jeffrey here.

“You again?” Peg tossed her head in apparent disgust, setting loose a wave of cloying perfume. “Jeffrey ain’t here.”

“We know that.” It was Ethan who replied as he dismounted and helped Abigail off Sally. “We’d like to speak with Leah.”

Peg’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “When men come here, it ain’t to talk to my girls.”

Though Abigail could not explain it, the hairs on the back of her head rose. Something about Peg bothered her, tickling the edges of her memory. How Abigail hated when that happened. The thought hovered on the fringes of her brain but refused to come close enough for her to capture it. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on the woman who stood only a yard away. “We’ll pay for her time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Peg snorted. “I ain’t worried about the money. I just don’t like having you around. Folks like you are bad for business.” She tipped her head to one side, as if calculating the damage they could inflict simply with their presence. At last she nodded, her reluctance evident. “Leah’s in the third cabin. Make it quick.”

“Thank you.” Before Peg could change her mind, Abigail started toward Leah’s cabin. “Peg reminds me of someone,” Abigail said as they walked. “I wish I knew who. I feel as if it’s important, but I can’t explain why.”

Ethan shrugged. “I’m the wrong man to ask. Didn’t I tell you that I’m the least observant male ever born? You’re probably just remembering the night we saw her with Jeffrey.”

That was possible, but Abigail doubted it. Her instincts had not been aroused that night or the day she had first met Peg, but they were shrieking at her now. “One thing that bothers me is Peg’s speech. It was different that night, more cultivated, and I remember a Southern drawl.”

Ethan shrugged again. “I don’t recall anything being different. To be honest, all I cared about was getting Jeffrey out of there.”

They had reached the third cabin. Ethan started to knock on the door, but Abigail held up a restraining hand. “Leah,” she said as she knocked more softly than Ethan would have, “it’s Abigail Harding. I’m here with Lieutenant Bowles. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The scraping of a chair and some rustling preceded the opening of the door. When Leah emerged, she was clutching a shawl around her shoulders, her disheveled hair telling Abigail they had wakened her.

“What’s this about?” Leah asked. Devoid of its usual paint, her face looked young, almost innocent, though her eyes revealed the toll that years at Peg’s had taken. She regarded both Abigail and Ethan with suspicion.

Ethan took a step forward before he said, “We’re here about Corporal Keller. When did you see him last?”

The way Leah’s lips thinned and her fingers gripped the shawl left no doubt that she was unwilling to speak.

“Tell us the truth,” Abigail urged the young woman. “It’s all right. You won’t hurt the corporal.”

Leah’s eyes darted from Abigail to Ethan and back again, her reluctance almost palpable. It was only when Abigail gave her another reassuring smile that she said, “Dietrich was here last night. I know he wasn’t supposed to leave the fort, but he did.”

When Ethan said nothing, Abigail continued the questioning. “Do you remember when Dietrich arrived and how long he stayed?” If Leah was to be his alibi, the times had to be consistent.

Leah nodded. “He came before 9:30, and he didn’t leave until after midnight.”

“You’re sure?” Ethan’s voice was harsher than Abigail would have liked, and she saw Leah flinch.

“I’m sure. He isn’t in trouble, is he?” Worry lines formed between Leah’s eyes, and her voice cracked. “He only came to protect me. I knew one of the ranchers was expected last night. A bad one. He’s mighty rough on a girl when he’s been drinking, and most nights he’s been drinking.”

Abigail kept her expression impassive, although her heart bled for Leah and all the others who had been subjected to the rancher’s cruelty.

“I told Dietrich about him,” Leah continued, “and he said he’d come. He paid for my time so I didn’t have to entertain the rancher. You won’t put him in the guardhouse for that, will you?”

Ethan shook his head. “It’s not for me to decide.”

Leah took a step forward and laid her hand on Abigail’s arm. “Dietrich’s a good man, and I ain’t . . .” She flushed, then corrected herself. “I’m not saying that just because he wants to marry me.” She looked up at Ethan. “Dietrich said the captain had to give his permission. Do you reckon he’ll do that?”

For a second Abigail thought Ethan would shake his head. Instead he said, “I’ll talk to him.”

Her smile one of pure happiness, Leah nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“I believe her,” Abigail said as she and Ethan rode away from the hog ranch.

“So do I. Someone tried to frame Dietrich.”

“Obviously, but why him?”

A gust of wind blew a tumbleweed in front of their horses, causing Sally to skitter sideways. Ethan waited until Abigail was once more riding next to him before he said, “It’s probably because he’s an immigrant. Everyone knows that Johann Schiller was involved in the robberies. Someone wants me to think that Dietrich was too.”

“Who would do that?”

Ethan was silent for a moment. When he spoke, all he said was, “I wish I knew,” but something in his expression told Abigail he had his suspicions.

Someone had been in his room. Ethan knew it the moment he opened the door. He had expected some sort of reaction to what he had done today, but not this. While he doubted that anyone would be angered by his asking Captain Westland to approve Corporal Keller’s marriage to Leah and to sentence him to only ten days in the guardhouse rather than a full month, Ethan had known his belief that one of the officers was involved in the robberies and the attempt to implicate Corporal Keller would trigger a response, especially since it had resulted in Captain Westland’s conducting what was tantamount to an interrogation of each officer. Ethan had expected a reaction, but he hadn’t thought it would be so personal. Still, there was no denying that he had had an uninvited visitor. The room held an unfamiliar smell, and the intruder hadn’t completely closed one of the chest drawers.

Ethan’s heart began to pound as he realized what he’d placed in that particular drawer, and the suspicions he’d entertained turned to certainty. It was no coincidence that he’d had a visitor within hours of Captain Westland’s beginning his questioning, just as it was no coincidence that the visitor had searched Ethan’s chest of drawers.

Ethan tugged the drawer fully open, his heart thudding as his fears were realized. The packet of letters was gone, replaced by a single sheet of paper. “If you want your treasure, come to the back room at Peg’s.” Though the writer had tried to disguise his penmanship, he had given himself away with his wording. Only one man knew that Ethan considered those letters his treasure. Jeffrey. The man he thought shared his sense of duty and honor was involved in the robberies. It had to have been Jeffrey who had notified the outlaws when a coach would be unguarded and Jeffrey who had planted the stolen earrings by Dietrich Keller’s footlocker.

Ethan saddled Samson and headed for Peg’s, wishing he were wrong but knowing he was not. The letters were the lure. Ethan had no doubt Jeffrey intended to demand a ransom for them, but why had he chosen Peg’s for the rendezvous? Perhaps he wanted more than money. Perhaps he was simply unwilling to work alone. That must be it. For some reason, Jeffrey wanted an accomplice with him, probably Peg.

They were waiting for him. Ethan knew they would be, which was why he drew his weapon before he pushed the door open. The room was as he remembered it, with a large round table in the center and a small bar on the right wall. Today, though, the chairs were empty. Today there were no half-filled glasses, no cards and chips on the table. Instead, Jeffrey stood behind the table where he’d once played poker, while Peg leaned against the bar. And though Peg appeared to be unarmed, Jeffrey had his pistol pointed at Ethan.

“Drop your weapon.”

Ethan stared at the man he’d once considered his friend. The man who had insisted Ethan share his dinner table stared back at him, his eyes filled with hatred.

“Drop it,” Jeffrey repeated.

“I don’t think so.”

Behind him Ethan heard the door close. There had been a stiff breeze. Perhaps it had blown the door shut. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Jeffrey to see what had happened.

“Don’t be a fool.” The voice came from behind Ethan and was accompanied by the unmistakable pressure of a pistol against the back of his head. It had not been wind closing the door, but another man entering the room. “No letter is worth dying over.” The man’s voice was cultured and bore a faint accent that reminded Ethan of his grandfather’s business associates.

Ethan remained motionless, considering his alternatives. They were decidedly limited. While he might be able to shoot the gun from Jeffrey’s hand, the stranger would kill him. The steel in his voice told Ethan that. Reluctantly, he let the pistol slip from his hand.

“He’s all yours, Jeffrey.” The man shoved Ethan forward, then moved into the shadowed corner of the room. Though Ethan could see his outline and the gun he kept pointed at him, he could make out no features.

Jeffrey’s smile held no mirth, only gloating. “Sit down, Ethan,” he said, gesturing toward the table. “You might as well be comfortable.”

Ethan remained standing. There would be no comfort here, and sitting would put him at an even greater disadvantage than he already was. “Where are the letters?”

It was Peg who answered. “They’re right here,” she said, patting the side of her reticule. “You can have them when we’re done.”

“How much do you want?” As he’d ridden to the hog ranch, Ethan had tried to guess the amount Jeffrey would demand. A thousand dollars? Two? Either would be a fortune to a man accustomed to living on military pay.

Jeffrey’s smile widened, but there was no friendliness in it, merely the stretching of his lips. “Not much. Just your signature on one piece of paper.” He shoved a sheet of cheap paper across the table.