The Widowed Bride

Ethan’s memory clicked back to the briefing he’d been given for this assignment. The man would be Sam Farley, who’d been the marshal in Dutchman’s Creek for more than thirty years.

Farley had a trustworthy reputation. But experience had taught Ethan to be cautious. In Kansas, he’d brought down a bootlegging operation that had involved the mayor, the sheriff and the bank president. Until he had evidence to the contrary, everyone was a suspect.

He’d seen the story played out before—a public servant who’d received scant reward for a lifetime of honest work and felt he deserved better. Sam Farley would be nearing retirement. He could probably use some extra cash to see him through a comfortable old age. Who could blame the marshal for turning a blind eye to the sale of illegal booze for a share of the profits? Especially if the extra money was needed to catch the attention of a beautiful woman?

That possibility, and the fact that Ruby had greeted him like a long-lost uncle, didn’t exactly put a shine on Farley’s reputation. Or on Ruby’s.

Ethan pressed against the wall to better hear what was being said. Whatever he learned, it was bound to be interesting.

Ruby had met Sam Farley a year ago, when she’d come to Dutchman’s Creek to get her brother out of Sam’s jail.

During the awful months Jace had been on the run, charged with Hollis’s murder, she’d developed a contempt for lawmen that bordered on hatred. Most of them had been in the pay of Hollis’s wealthy friends, and they’d gone out of their way to make her life miserable. Only fear for the safety of her daughters had kept her from blurting out the truth—that she was the one who’d killed her husband, and Jace had taken the blame to protect them.

When Clara had telephoned her with the news of Jace’s arrest, Ruby had commandeered her lawyer and caught the next train west. Fearing the worst, she’d been astonished to find her brother in the custody of a gentle, silver-haired man who was the soul of fairness. By the time Jace had been cleared of all charges, Ruby and the aging marshal had become fast friends. They’d remained so to this day.

“Son of a gun, girl!” Sam’s gaze roamed the drab parlor, coming to rest on the mattress. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to fix up this place by yourself. Where’s your brother?”

“Jace offered to come. But with Clara’s time getting so close, I didn’t want to keep him in town.”

“Couldn’t you have borrowed a couple of the ranch hands?”

Ruby shook her head. “I couldn’t afford to pay them, and I won’t impose on Jace or on Clara’s family. They’ve done so much for me already. Besides, I did manage to find some help. A man who’ll be living here is doing some work in exchange for his first week’s room and board.”

“A man, you say?” The marshal’s face creased into a suspicious scowl. “You mean you hired some stranger who just happened by? And you’re going to be here alone with him? Lordy, girl, where’s your common sense?”

Ruby bristled slightly. Sam Farley might be old enough to be her father, but that didn’t give him the right to treat her like a fifteen-year-old. “He offered to help and his price was right. As for my being alone with him…” She paused. “You, of all people, should know that I can take care of myself.”

The marshal’s scowl deepened. “Well, you let him know that I’ll be checking on you—and on him.” His gaze swept from the kitchen to the stairs. “I don’t see much work getting done. Where is the lazy so-and-so, anyway?”

“Right here.” Ethan stepped out of the hallway. His expression was guarded, but he extended his hand. “Professor Ethan Beaudry. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marshal. You’re just in time to help me haul this mattress outside for a beating. The lady and I managed to get this far before you knocked on the door.”

“Sam Farley. And it looks like I got here at the right time.”

As the two men shook hands, Ruby glanced away to hide the flash of color to her face. Moving the mattress wasn’t the only thing they’d managed before the marshal showed up.

Sam’s long arms and added strength eased the work of hauling the mattress out to the backyard. Ruby stepped aside to let the men pass. Lugging the mattress outside, they laid it against the raised entrance to the cellar.

Ruby closed the screen door behind them. She had plenty of work to do in the house. But on second thought, leaving the two men alone might not be a good idea. On her first visit to Dutchman’s Creek, she’d made it clear to Sam that the scandal of her husband’s death was to be kept private. Sam had promised to respect her wishes. But the marshal did like to gossip a bit. If his tongue slipped, she wanted to be there to stop him from saying too much.

As for Ethan… Ruby struggled against the memory of his kisses. What she needed was some time away from him to regroup her emotions. But that would leave him alone with Sam, and a conversation between those two could lead anywhere.

There was only one thing to do. With a sigh, Ruby opened the door again. She came out onto the stoop just in time to hear Ethan saying, “So, Marshal, how is it you know Mrs. Rumford? Something tells me there’s an interesting story here.”

Chapter Four

Ethan had hoped to get the marshal talking. But now Ruby had come outside. It was she who answered his question.

“My brother lives near Dutchman’s Creek. Sam and I became friends last year when I came for a visit.”

A glance flickered between Ruby and the old man. Whatever she’d said, Ethan sensed that her words had fallen short of the real story.

“Ruby’s brother, Jace, married into one of the finest families in the valley,” the marshal said. “His father-in-law, Judd Seavers, owns the biggest ranch in these parts.”

“My brother and his wife are expecting a baby,” Ruby added. “I moved here from Missouri to be near them. But I wanted to live in town, on my own. That’s why I bought the boardinghouse.” She paused. A clever smile lit her face. “But enough about me, Professor. Why don’t you tell us about the history book you’re writing. I’ve never met a real author before.”

Ethan picked up the baseball bat and gave the mattress several solid whacks. A too-innocent story followed by a deft evasion. The woman had outmaneuvered him and he wasn’t happy about it. First thing tomorrow, he’d begin the process of checking out everything she and the marshal had to tell him. If there were any holes in their combined stories, he would find them.

Ruby’s link to the prominent Seavers clan might put her in a more favorable light, but it didn’t wash her clean. The best of families could have its black sheep, and she could be using the Seavers connection to win people’s trust. Ethan had learned to suspect anyone who hadn’t proven themselves innocent. That included politicians, elderly lawmen and beautiful, seductive women.

“We’re waiting.” Ruby’s tone rang with challenge. Her folded arms pushed her ample breasts upward in a way that made Ethan’s mouth go dry.

“I haven’t started writing yet,” he hedged. “There are plenty of books on the general history of Colorado, but I wanted something more personal—history as it affected the people of a typical small town. After some research I chose Dutchman’s Creek.”

“So you’ll be going around talking to folks?” The marshal assessed Ethan with narrowed eyes. Plainly, the old man didn’t trust him.

“Yes, I plan to. If they’re willing to talk to me, of course.”

“Have you got some identification, some kind of credentials you can show me?”

Ethan had been given the proper documents by the agency. “I have. But my papers are in my hotel room. I can bring them by your office tomorrow.”

“Do that.” Sam Farley spat a stream of tobacco into the grass. “I have a responsibility to folks in this town, and I take it seriously. You’re not to bother any of these good people unless you can prove you’re who you claim to be.”

“Understood.” Ethan lifted the bat and stepped back for another swing at the mattress. The marshal’s next words paused him in midmotion.

“Then understand this, Professor. You lay so much as an ungentlemanly finger on this sweet lady here, and I’ll have you behind bars before you can say Jack Robinson!”

“I hear you.” Ethan smashed the bat against the ticking again and again, raising a cloud of cottony dust. What would Sam Farley say if he knew he was talking to a U.S. deputy marshal? Probably the same damn thing. The old man seemed very protective. If he knew what had happened on that mattress seconds before his knock, he’d likely be breaking out the handcuffs.

“The mayor and his son came by, Sam,” Ruby broke the awkward silence. “They invited me to dinner at the hotel. Maybe you can give me some idea what to expect.”

“The mayor?” Sam punctuated his words with a snort. “If I was a pretty woman, I’d be on my guard. Thaddeus has always had an eye for the ladies, and now that his wife’s gone to her reward, he’s like a hound off the leash. I’m guessing he sees you as a candidate for Mrs. Wilton number two. Probably licking his chops at the prospect.”

“Oh, dear. I certainly have no intention of—” Ruby shook her head. “He said he’d introduce me to some important people. And of course his son will be there. Nothing about that arrangement seems improper.”

The marshal frowned. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t go. Just warning you to be careful.”

Ruby’s head went up. Ethan caught a flicker of defiance in her blue eyes. “I’m not a child, Sam. If anything makes me feel uncomfortable, I’ll just get up and leave.”

“You do that.” The marshal nodded. “You leave and come straight to me.”

Ethan was a practiced observer of people. In Sam Farley’s eyes and voice he detected the sadness of an old man hopelessly in love with a younger woman—a man who knew he could never have her in this life. The poor devil.

But right now that wasn’t his problem, Ethan reminded himself. It had occurred to him that there might be hidden motives behind Mayor Wilton’s invitation. With Ruby at dinner the house would be left empty, giving the bootleggers a chance to move in and smuggle out their liquid treasure.

At the end of the day, he’d planned to stop by the hotel, get a meal and keep an eye on Ruby. But he couldn’t be in two places at once. The smarter choice would be to stay here and keep watch on that cellar door.

Stepping away, he let the bat slide into the grass. Suspect Everyone—that motto had always served him well. But in this case it was giving him one humdinger of a headache.