The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,75
stained breeches.
No doubt, Ezra Fields had slopped kerosene on his clothes while starting a fire—the fire that torched her new addition. She also had the sneaking suspicion that her employee, Chester Purvis, was the one who favored the brown horse with white stockings that she had commandeered. She presumed Ches had helped Ezra ignite the fire.
A thorough inspection of Ezra’s trunk didn’t turn up Cahill’s stolen money from Phantom Springs, but it confirmed her suspicions about Ezra’s lack of loyalty. Adrianna silently fumed, certain the double-crossing cowboys were likely involved in rustling as well as arson. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn they were involved in murder, as well.
Adrianna rolled up the kerosene-splattered breeches and headed for the door. “Not one word about this, Otha,” she ordered, staring him down like a gunfighter at twenty paces.
“No, ma’am,” he promised.
She unlocked the door, then studied the freckle-faced, bowlegged cowboy for a long intense moment. She decided she could trust him. He had too much at stake—like a good-paying job and a rented cabin to begin his married life.
Adrianna hurried outside to tuck the breeches in her saddlebag before passersby noticed. Then she hightailed it to her own bunkhouse to confirm her suspicions about Chester Purvis. He had tried to keep her at odds with Cahill and had to be involved in this devious scheme, she predicted angrily. But he wasn’t going to get away with it!
Quin blew out an agitated breath when the set of tracks he and Burnett had followed for an hour disappeared into the trampled dust and dozens of other tracks on the road leading to and from Ca-Cross.
“Wild-goose chase,” Burnett mumbled, voicing Quin’s disgruntled thoughts aloud.
“No way of telling if the outlaws met up later or took their cuts of the money and split up until things cooled down,” Quin muttered. “Worse, I don’t have a description of those ruffians.”
“Sorry Dog and I weren’t more help.” Burnett reined his Appaloosa gelding named Drizzle toward town. “Let me know if something turns up and we’ll work the case together.”
Quin watched his friend and Dog trot off, then he reversed direction to head home…to an empty house and deafening silence. The discouraging thought did nothing to improve his glum mood. He’d hit a dead end trying to exonerate himself. He still didn’t know if his parents’ deaths were a hapless accident or the result of a robbery gone bad.
And Boston had gone home… Damn it, he missed her already.
Despite the past few rotten days, his mood improved when he reached headquarters an hour later to see Boston’s favorite horse tethered near his front door. Nothing would make him happier than to have her show up with an excuse to spend another night.
When he sailed through the door, she was waiting in the foyer. Impulsively, he picked her up off the floor and kissed the breath out of her.
“Mmm…I’m glad to see you, too, Cahill,” she whispered as she hooked her legs around his hips, then offered him a kiss as hungry and urgent as the one he’d planted on her lips. Then she unwrapped her legs and put her feet on the floor. “But we have a problem.”
“Seems like we’ve had a lot of those lately. Are you referring to one specifically or all of them collectively?”
He frowned warily when she retrieved a gunnysack sitting beside the coatrack near the door. She reached inside to display two pairs of breeches that smelled like kerosene.
“Where’d you find those?” he muttered, outraged. “They sure as hell aren’t mine. You know I didn’t—”
“I know,” she cut in quickly. “One pair belongs to your man Ezra Fields. I had Otha point out his trunk so I could check his gear. By the way, that was a nice thing you did for Otha, letting him rent the cabin so he and his intended bride would have a place to call home.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t know if his sweetheart at the dance hall was toying with him to get him to buy her gifts or if she was sincere. I’m glad she cares about Otha.” He waited a beat, then said, “What about Ezra and kerosene?”
“I remembered seeing two horses at your bunkhouse and I borrowed one to follow you to Phantom Springs,” she reminded him. “I thought it strange when I realized one horse belonged at 4C and the other saddle horse came from my ranch.”
Quin jerked up his head and frowned. “It isn’t Rocky, is it? Damn him!”
“No, it’s Chester Purvis. I found