Scandal at the Cahill Saloon - By Carol Arens Page 0,18

with her brother discussing a flirtation.

She frowned, feeling the weight of what she had to discuss with Bowie settle upon her. She wanted to run away from it and not feel the pain, but it was there, always there.

“Murder? Truly?” She had trouble saying that awful word even though it replayed in her head time after time. “Couldn’t that be a mistake?”

“It’s not.” Someone coming out of the general store sneered at her but retreated back inside when Bowie shot a fierce glare at him. “I’m sorry, Annie, the crash was staged to hide what really happened.”

“Who would do that?” A lump swelled in her throat. She thought she was done with weeping, but maybe she never would be. “Why?”

“That’s what we aim to find out.” Bowie’s jaw ticked. He clenched his fists. “Damned if I’ll believe it’s some Cahill Curse. Someone will answer for this.”

Leanna stood away from him to wipe her face with both hands. She straightened her back and walked beside him.

“Tell me what I can do. This is what I came home for.”

“I will, once I know.”

“Promise me, Bowie.” She grabbed his arm, squeezing tight. “I won’t be left out of this.”

“I promise.” He covered her fingers with a return squeeze. “What about Chance, have you heard from him?”

“Not for a while. Bounty hunting keeps him busy and usually out of touch. Luckily, he was planning a visit to Deadwood when he finished the job he was on. I left a letter, and Quin’s telegram, with my landlady. She’ll make sure he gets it.”

“You think she’ll remember?”

“You can count on Mrs. Jameston—she is a dear. I used to bring harlots home to the boardinghouse, the ones who were trying to change their ways, and she never once looked down her nose at them, or me. But she is curious…and talkative. As sure as anything, she’ll be watching out her window just waiting to give Chance the news. She’ll try and console him, though, with a hug and a hot meal.”

They turned right, walking past the church.

“Does Chance know who Cabe’s pa is?”

She shook her head. “The last time I saw our brother he tried to force me to tell.” She paused, and gave a short laugh. “I wonder how long it took that black eye to heal?”

They strolled past the school in the blessed shade of a cottonwood grove. A few hundred yards beyond that sat the house that Leanna had rented. It had a wide front porch that she would sit on one day when she had time. Trees growing on the east and west side blew in the wind. Leafy branches twisted their arms, waving a welcome.

“I hardly know you anymore, Annie.” Bowie reached out to catch a leaf drifting down from a tree. “I can’t figure you out. According to the town, you’re a blight on the family name.... I wonder if you’re the best one of us all.”

“From what I hear, the Cahill Curse has claimed me.”

The front door of Leanna’s house opened. Dorothy walked outside with Cabe in her arms. She set him down.

“Mama!” Cabe raced toward her.

Her heart swelled watching his short legs pumping and his tiny boots stirring up a trail of dust.

“That’s him?” Bowie crouched down at the same instant that Cabe slammed into her skirt. “I swear, Annie, I’ll lay the man flat who says the boy is a curse.”

Bowie reached out a finger to Cabe, but he leaned into flapping yards of blue calico and all but disappeared.

Bowie reached into his pocket. “Mind if I give him a peppermint stick? It always worked with you.”

“You just happen to have one with you?”

“Just happen to.”

Leanna was certain that mama was smiling down. Bowie didn’t just happen to have candy in his pocket. He’d planned to accept his nephew all along.

I’ve got one of my brothers back, Mama, she said in her mind. I might need some help with Quin, though.

At sundown, the wind blew even harder. Trees cast long shifting shadows over the railroad tracks. Leaves skittered across the ground. They caught on the rails, twisted, shivered, then broke free and scurried toward town.

Leanna gathered the hem of her gown in the crook of her elbow and hurried after them. She ought to have left the red-light part of town an hour earlier but a woman had clutched the flyer that Leanna had given her to her breast. She’d wept over it.

After spending an hour at the tawdry Hobart Hotel and Café, sipping stale coffee and nibbling