Tempest EPB

  When he entered his office, Regan asked, “Will the man take my money now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. I should probably talk to whoever runs the bank, too.”

  “Yes.” He studied her in her snug denims and man’s shirt and thought about the lush willing body hidden within. “I don’t mean to be rude or nosy, but how much money are we talking here.”

  Her reply almost made him keel over.

  “That’s just an estimate,” she said. “Portia and I own a portion of the hotel of course, but we also own stock in mining, railroads, shipping, and land here in America, Mexico, and Europe. Aunt Eddy, Portia, and I grew up terribly poor. Uncle Rhine wanted to make sure we’d never go without ever again.”

  Colt found that admirable. That she had access to more money than he’d have in five lifetimes gave him pause.

  “Is my being an heiress something else I should have revealed in my letters?”

  “Not necessarily. A less honest man may have married you just for that.”

  “I know. It concerned me.”

  Any man she married would gain access to her funds, with or without her consent. It made him think back on his insistence that Anna marry. What type of man might she choose? She wouldn’t inherit much of anything from him as her father, but married she’d have no more rights than she had as a child. Would her husband have her best interests at heart? Colt had never thought about her future in quite this way before. His unconventional new wife was making him view the world through a new set of eyes. “Are you going back to the store?”

  “I’d prefer not to but since he’s the only choice, I suppose I must.”

  “He can be a pain in the rear.”

  “How long have he and Lacy been married?”

  “Since I was young. Her father founded the place. Chauncey came in as his clerk from back East and her father married her off.”

  “So, it wasn’t a love match?”

  He shook his head. “To be truthful, she’s never liked him very much.”

  And as if speaking about her caused her to appear, Lacy stepped through the door. “Regan, I heard what happened with Chauncey. I told him he could have handled it better, but of course, he disagrees. Do you still want to shop at the store?”

  “I do.”

  “Then come, and while you do, I’ll tell you about your invitation to the next meeting of the Paradise Ladies Society. The members all want to meet you.”

  “I’m honored.”

  Colt didn’t show a reaction. He knew some of the ladies to be as sanctimonious and judgmental as Minnie, who was also a member.

  “Doc, I’ll return your lovely wife to you as soon as we’re done at the store.”

  He nodded.

  Regan said, “Thanks for your help, Colton.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He watched them depart and wondered what the Paradise Ladies Society would think of his gun-toting heiress wife. More than likely they’d never met anyone quite like her either.

  With Lacy’s help, Regan shopped for spices, cake pans, flour, cornmeal, and sugar. She purchased lemons and oranges, coffee and tea, along with frying pans, roasters, and furniture polish. Spying a display of scented soaps, she picked out a lavender bar for herself and one of lilac for Anna. She knew Colt might consider it an inappropriate indulgence for a six-year-old, but after living with Minnie, Regan thought Anna deserved to be indulged. With Anna in mind, she added hair ribbons, paints, two pairs of little boys’ denims, boots, and shirts to the growing pile of items on the counter. Chauncey Miller viewed it all skeptically and Regan ignored him. Paging through a catalog, she found a new stove to replace the ancient one at the Lee home and had Lacy order it along with a new icebox.

  “It may take a week or so for them to arrive, Regan,” Lacy pointed out, writing down the order numbers. “It has to be shipped from Cheyenne.”

  “That’s quite all right. I can wait.” She couldn’t really but had no choice.

  “And since this is their top model, they’ll send some men to install it and take away the old one.”

  Regan noticed the other customers watching her shop. The more items she picked out, the more curious they became. Some even casually stepped up to the counter to get an up close look. Word must have gone out because the store became increasingly crowded as more and more people arrived. Some gave the pretense of browsing while others flat-out stared.

  A man called out to her, “Doc know you’re spending him into the poorhouse, Mrs. Doc?”

  Regan offered a pasted-on smile and added a Bloomingdale Brothers catalog to the pile of goods on the counter and stacked on the floor beside it.

  Chauncey Miller announced loudly, “According to the good doctor, she’s spending her own money.”

  A buzz went up and Lacy snapped, “Chauncey, hush.”

  “Just telling the truth. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Doc?”

  Someone else called out with a laugh, “Careful Chauncey before she shoots you like she shot the doc.”

  Laughter.

  Regan steamed. She wanted to ask the people if they didn’t have someplace else to be, but kept the question to herself. It was a small town and amusements were hard to come by.

  She finished her shopping and Miller totaled up what she owed. He called out the sum so that everyone could hear and Regan agreed with her husband’s take on the store owner—he was a pain in the rear. As everyone watched and waited to see if she could pay the large sum, a thick silence settled over the scene. She reached down into her boot and calmly withdrew her money pouch. When she slapped three double eagles on the counter, the crowd cheered. She smiled at Miller. His crestfallen face told all. It was his business to sell goods, had he really looked forward to crowing about her not having enough funds? Regan wondered how he’d react were she to tell him she could’ve paid ten times the amount.

  A glance Lacy’s way showed her terse face. “You’d think he’d be pleased to have a customer spend so much, but he’s never been a smart man.”

  He glared at her.

  She ignored him, except to say, “Get her things crated up, Chauncey, so she can take them home.”

  She and Regan stepped outside to wait for her purchases and Regan asked about the invitation from the Paradise Ladies group. “We usually meet Friday evenings at the home of Glenda Cale. Her husband owns the bank.”

  “How many women are in the club?”

  “Seven, sometimes eight.”

  “Is Spring a member?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “They think she has questionable morals.”

  Regan didn’t care for that. “I see. Was Dr. Lee’s late wife a member?”

  “Yes. In fact, Adele was our secretary. Her aunt’s a member, too.”

  Armed with this new information, Regan wanted to decline the invitation, but being the doctor’s wife made some activities mandatory and this sounded like one she couldn’t wiggle out of easily. She’d belonged to a women’s group back home and had enjoyed it immensely. If she found the Paradise club not to her liking, she’d concoct plausible excuses to miss as many meetings as she could.

  While his wife was possibly buying everything Miller’s General Store had to offer, Colt left his office and walked down to the telegraph office run by Odell Waters. It was the gathering place for the old men of Paradise. Many of whom, now in their sixth and seventh decades of life, shared a past tied to hunting, fishing, prospecting, mining, and gossiping. He was hoping mill owner and carpenter Porter James would be there so Colt could ask him about heading up the work needed for Regan’s new bedroom. Like Colt, Porter was a man of color, one of the few in the area. Colt also wondered if Odell had any news on his grandfather Ben.

  The men in the office greeted him warmly and as always there was a checkers game going on. Odell was playing Porter. Colt told them why he’d come and Odell shared news about Ben.

  “I was up at his cabin yesterday,” he said, eyein
g his next move on the checkerboard. “He’s still mad that you didn’t listen to him about marrying Miss Regan, but then Ben thinks everything that comes out of his mouth is gold.” He moved his black piece and waited while Porter studied the board.

  “I can do the work on the room, if you like, Doc,” Porter said. “Know a glazier, too.”

  He kinged one of his pieces and Odell blew out a breath of frustration. “I hate playing with you.”

  “I would, too, if I lost to me as many times as you have.”

  Porter proceeded to make short work of the increasingly glum Odell and when the game was over, Odell gave up his seat to the next challenger, stagecoach driver Moss Denby.

  Odell walked over to the telegraph equipment and said to Colt, “Your wife’s telegraph finally went out last night. A reply came back about an hour ago.” He handed the folded message to Colt who placed it in his shirt pocket.

  “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

  Moss looked up from the checkerboard and asked Colt, “Did somebody really take a shot at her and your daughter?”

  “Yes,” Colt replied tersely. “Whit and I are riding up to the Bailey place later. We don’t know if Dun’s involved but we’ll see.”

  The outlaws who’d been with Dun’s now deceased brother, Jeb, were still in the sheriff’s jail and would remain there until the circuit judge arrived. Rumor had it that some of the stagecoach bigwigs would be on hand for the proceedings.

  Denby said, “Little lady saved my life. I don’t want anything happening to her. Tell Whit if he needs help finding who did it, I’m his man.”

  A few others threw in their support, too. She’d won many hearts at the wedding with her horseshoe skills and open smile.

  “I’ll let him know.”

  Colt left them to their checkers. Passing the general store, he heard a loud cheer go up inside. Knowing his wife and her penchant for chaos, he figured she was probably involved. Shaking his head with amusement, he kept walking. He’d find out what it meant soon enough.

  What he found out was that she purchased enough to nearly fill his wagon’s bed. “All this?” he asked as he made room for yet another crate handed up to him by Wayne Meachem, one of the store’s clerks.

  “I didn’t buy anything we didn’t need,” she said, coming to her own defense.

  For a man who’d spent his life pinching pennies, he was overwhelmed. There was also a crowd watching the loading. He wanted to tell them to scat but knew they wouldn’t. His rifle-shooting, horseshoe-slinging bride would be the topic of discussion at dinner tables all over the county. One of the onlookers called out, “She bought you a new stove, too, Doc. Lacy has to order it though.”

  His eyes shot to Regan. She met it without flinching. Filled with disbelief, he set the last crate down and they both climbed to the wagon seat. He glanced over. “Is that it? No cows or horses or railroad cars?”

  She snorted. “Not today.”

  “Then I can drive home?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Their eyes held. She still wore a trace of a smile and she sparkled like sunbeams on a stream. In spite of his inner battle, he was becoming ensnared by her exuberant charm and wasn’t sure what to do about it. Turning away, he set the team in motion. Applause from the crowd rang out, and like a queen, she waved good-bye to her royal subjects. Amused, he didn’t know what to make of that either.

  After clearing town, he reached into his pocket. “Odell said this telegraph came for you.”

  She opened it and read it. When he looked over, her teary eyes set off concern. “What’s wrong?”

  She wiped her eyes. “Just so happy to hear from my family. I miss them dearly.”

  “Are they well?”

  “Yes. Aunt Eddy wants to know if I need anything.”

  “Is there anything left for you to buy?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Miller didn’t have chilies, so I’ll let her know to send some.”

  “Chilies?” he asked warily.

  “For tortillas. I need black beans, too. Miller just had regular dried beans. I grew up eating the food of Mexico and I miss that, too.”

  Colt wondered if he’d ever learn all her facets. Having spent most of his life in the Territory, he had no idea what went into the food of Mexico. How were black beans different, he wondered.

  “When is the sheriff going to speak to Bailey? Did he say?”

  “This afternoon. I’m going with him.”

  She went quiet for a few moments, then looked his way and asked, “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  He studied her seriously set features. “No. There have a been few times I thought my skills should’ve saved a life but I’ve never taken one.”

  “I’d never taken one either before the stagecoach shooting.”

  “Is it bothering you?”

  She nodded. “Taking someone’s life isn’t a trivial thing.”

  “No, it isn’t. Shows you have feelings.”

  “I suppose. I had no choice in the matter though, and I feel terrible that it might be the cause of someone wanting to hurt Anna.”

  “They’ll be found.”

  “I hope so. No little girl should have to experience that.” She quieted for a few more moments and then asked, “Could the shots have been a warning for you, instead? Do you have enemies here?”

  “Not that I know of, but anything is possible.” He hadn’t thought about viewing the shooting from that angle. He was again impressed by how intelligent she was. “I’ll think on that.”

  “Please do.”

  True to his word, Whit came by the house a few hours later and he and Colt rode out. Their destination was an hour’s ride from Paradise. Dun and his dead outlaw brother, Jeb, were sons of Ethan Bailey, a man rumored to have fled to the Territory ahead of a murder charge down in Missouri. The wide, unexplored expanses of America’s untamed West were perfect hiding places for those not wanting to be found, and if they kept their heads down, they could live out their lives in relative peace and anonymity. Ethan Bailey had eschewed both, however. He’d been involved in everything from claim jumping and horse theft to drunken barroom brawls. It was the brawling that eventually did him in. Three years ago, he’d been gut shot in a Casper saloon. By the time Jeb and Dun brought him to Colt, it was too late.

  The Bailey place was as disreputable as the family’s reputation. The small, poorly constructed timber cabin had a listing tar paper roof held down by boulders. Waist-high grasses surrounded it, making it appear abandoned. Colt and Whit reined their mounts to a walk and took the well-worn path cut through the vegetation to the weathered broken-down porch. Two thin mangy dogs tied to the porch angrily announced their arrival. Dun stepped out, rifle in hand. “What the hell you want?” Dressed in dirty, well-worn clothes, and rip cord-thin as his dogs, he was tall, bearded, and had eyes that spat venom. How he supported himself other than doing the occasional odd job for those who’d allow him near their homes or property, Colt didn’t know.

  “Looking for information on who fired on Colt’s wife and daughter,” Whit replied.

  The feral eyes swung to Colt who met them steadily.

  “Know nothing about it. But seeing as how you said she killed my brother, I’d call that justice.”

  “Only cowards shoot at children,” Colt returned coldly. “You know any, Dun?”

  “You accusing me?”

  “You a coward?”

  Whit interrupted. “Where were you yesterday around eleven?”

  “Here. Ask my dogs.”

  His smug smile tightened Colt’s jaw.

  “Cartridges came from a Springfield,” Whit said.

  “Dozens of Springfields around here. You can’t prove it was mine.”

  “No, we can’t,” Colt said. “But spread the word that whoever did it should leave the Territory if they want to keep living.”

  “You threatening me?”

  “If you were the coward who shot at my wife and child, yes.”

&
nbsp; “Get off my land.”

  “Gladly.”

  Colt and the sheriff complied.

  Once they cleared the grass and were back out on the road, Whit said, “You can’t make threats like that, Colt.”

  “Talk to me when someone takes shots at your family.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Regan wondered if the person might be an enemy?”

  Whit looked over. “Do you have any though?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Jeb and Dun were pretty mad when you couldn’t save Ethan.”

  “They were, but he was all but dead by the time they brought him to me.” He remembered the pain in Jeb’s voice as he’d screamed at him to save his pa’s life, but the damage had been too extensive, not to mention the blood loss he’d suffered on the long trek from Casper back to Paradise. “Because of Jeb’s death, until proven otherwise, I still say it was Dun shooting at Regan and Anna.”

  “We’ll see.”

  When he returned home, Regan gave him a look of inquiry as she set the table for dinner, but he didn’t want to discuss the visit to Dun with Anna about. “How about we talk after Anna goes to bed?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Did you get everything from the store put away?”

  “I did.”

  Anna entered and her attire grabbed his attention. Dressed in a pair of denims and a blue cotton shirt, she resembled a miniature version of Regan. Seeing her, Regan smiled and asked, “Are the denims stiff?”

  She nodded. “They make my legs feel heavy.”

  “They’ll soften up after they’re washed a few times. If they’re uncomfortable you don’t have to wear them.”

  “But I want to.”

  Colt thought his daughter would wear a saddle if it was somehow tied to Regan. Her desire to emulate her new mother pleased him. The further she took herself out of Minnie’s sphere the happier she’d be.

  After Anna went to bed, he and Regan went out to the back porch to discuss the visit to Dun Bailey.

  “He denied being involved.” He went on to describe the encounter and finished by saying, “I know it was him.”