Page 21 of Follow the Lonesome Trail
The Sheriff met her eyes for a long moment. Long enough to make her nervous enough to speak again.
“They’re good boys,” she said, desperately.
“That’s why we had this conversation.”
“Kidnapping and train robbing are offences that can’t be overlooked.” The Sheriff eyed the Marshalls sharply. “Only idiots, like the Prescott gang, would do a fool thing like that. Especially when they had family who needed ‘em home and not sitting in prison.”
The sheriff stood there in silence until Tate and Marsh nodded, carefully.
“I believe I heard that the Prescott’s were running close to here a month or two back. Maybe they decided to stick around and rob some trains.” Sheriff Taylor continued, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Might be worth looking into.”
Gideon, whose face was a little pale, said, “Might be.”
Sheriff Taylor nodded and hollered back to his deputies. “We’d best hit the trail. Sounds like we’ve got an outlaw gang to track.”
The deputies looked a bit confused, but mounted up without saying anything. With a tip of his hat, Sheriff Taylor and his deputies rode away, dust blowing across the yard.
The five of them stood there in silence, until finally Marsh grumbled, “Ma would’ve whipped you good for the lies you done told.”
“He didn’t tell one lie,” Constance said, nearly lightheaded from relief. She patted Gideon’s arm, who blew out a breath. “And I didn’t either. I’d hope you’d know a lady would never. The Good Book is quite clear on that subject. But all things considered, I don’t see any purpose in telling the sheriff every little detail about the incident.”
Walter stood there confused, but Tate seemed to eye her with a new respect. Gideon and Marsh looked as if they wanted to go back to bed.
Finally, Walter spoke. “Well, what are we gonna do now?” He looked up at Gideon.
Gideon rubbed his forehead and said, “Out of the frying pan and right back where we started with the rest of this.”
“No, you aren’t,” Constance said. She let go of Gideon’s arm and began walking back up the steps to the porch.
“Oh?” All four followed her into the house.
She hummed under her breath. “I do believe I’ve solved your other little problem as well, but it seemed irrelevant up until now considering the larger issue at hand. All the solution will involve is the tiniest bit of…persuasion. Do you have any paper and ink?”
Gideon found them for her and she sat down at the kitchen table and began to write in a smooth, feminine hand. Gideon read over her shoulder, then exclaimed, “Why, that’s right next to blackmail!” He glanced at it again and frowned. “Besides, don’t we get a say in any of this? Which one of us are you talking about?”
Tate moved closer and read the letter only to jump back and say, “Over my dead body!”
Constance laughed, feeling a bit giddy. “Oh, it won’t come to that, it’s only a bluff. And it isnotblackmail, it’s an ultimatum. My father likes those. He must, considering he uses them all the time. It’ll be quite the adventure.”
Dearest Father,
I suppose you know by now that I’ve run from home, but I must say my adventures took me in a different direction than anticipated, as I’m sure the papers will have announced by the time you read this letter. To make a long story far less convoluted, this adventure has brought me to the doorstep of the Marshall brothers. Go and look through those paperssitting neglected on your desk. The ones from Tom Jessup. Read them carefully. Yes, I’m staying withthoseMarshall brothers.
You know me well enough to realize, Father, that I won’t be standing by and letting an innocent family lose their ranch. The results of all this being, I need a lawyer, possibly the consultation of a judge, and if those two fail at the task I set before them, I may decide I want to find the services of a minister…
After all, father dear, you might let your business partner cheat a couple of young men you’ve never met, but you wouldn’t let your own daughter be cheated of hearth and husband, now, would you.
Yours lovingly,
C.J.
Gold is Where You Find it
Allison Tebo
Brogan stuffed the deed into his pocket with a triumphant grin and spun the cylinder in his revolver, glancing at the couple who sat stiffly on the ground in front of him. “Any last words?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Ben Carstairs, his fine Eastern clothes sadly torn, his British accent stiffer than ever, turned his head in an attempt to face Caroline Weston. It wasn’t easy when they were tied back-to-back. “I have a complaint to lodge. Miss Weston, since I met you, a group of drunks has tried to hang me,I have been pursued by wild Indians, and I’ve been nearly torn limb from limb by the Dead River Gang.”
