The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride. Debra Cowan
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The sunlight streaming through the windows on either side of the door turned his neatly trimmed hair a fiery-red.
“Mrs. Powell, how are you today?”
“Just fine.” Palms clammy, she introduced Gideon.
“Ah, yes, Conrad told me you had a young man.”
Ivy bet that wasn’t all the stage driver had said. She didn’t bother correcting Leo.
The mayor extended his free hand to Gideon. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
She noticed that her guest’s hand nearly swallowed the older man’s. Curiosity burned in Jumper’s whiskey-colored eyes as they went from her to the rugged cowboy, but Ivy had no intention of inviting questions.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Powell?”
“I have some bad news.” Tension stretched across her shoulders as she explained about finding the dead mare.
His mouth tightened, his gaze narrowing. “Killed with a knife?”
“Yes.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“Was the horse roaming?” Jumper’s tone was accusatory. “Wasn’t it in the corral?”
“She was turned out to pasture with the others.”
“This is going to cost me money, Mrs. Powell.”
“Yes, sir.” As it would her. She was counting on the bank loan to help her get by. “And I’m sorry about that.”
Before she could ask if he planned to nullify their contract, the mayor said, “I won’t be boarding more animals at your place. I think the stage line will agree with me.”
Well, that answered that. “What would you like to do with the other horses?”
“Until I can move them, you should take better care and put them up at night. At least the ones that belong to the stage line.”
“I will,” she said stiffly, inwardly cursing whoever had harmed the bay and Tug.
Beside her, Gideon stared unblinking at the other man. Though Ivy didn’t feel threatened by the mayor, she was glad she wasn’t facing him alone.
“I’m on my way out of town so it will be a few days before I can arrange to move the others,” Leo said.
“Very well. I’ve read the contract and know the loss of the animal voids it, but I can offer the use of my horses, free of charge, until I’m able to replace the one that was killed. That way, the stage can continue to run.”
Jumper pursed his lips, irritation making his freckled features even more ruddy. “Very well. After I return from my trip, we’ll finish this business.”
She nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. The loss of income would severely hamper her ability to operate the stage stand, but a bank loan would help a great deal.
The older man exhaled loudly. “I’ll stop on my way out and report this to Sheriff Farrell.”
“I’m planning to do that, too,” Ivy said.
“No sense in both of us going.” His gaze narrowed. “Tell Farrell I’ll stop by when I return.”
“I will. And again, I’m sorry, Mayor.”
He nodded, pulling out a gold pocket watch and checking the time.
Ivy took the hint and left with Gideon. As they made their way back into town, she blew out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“Did it go the way you expected?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Irritation flared at the mayor’s condescending attitude. “I don’t expect special treatment, but this is the first problem to arise in the five years since the contract began. You’d think he might take that into account.”
“Not big on second chances, is he?” Gideon’s voice hardened.
“No, although I guess he can afford to be less than forgiving.”
At Gideon’s questioning look, she explained. “Besides the lumber company, he owns a stake in a couple of other businesses and the bank. I need to stop there, too.”
“Since your contract with the mayor is likely ended, could you strike a deal with the stage company on your own?”
“Yes, I could.” Smiling, she stopped abruptly in front of the livery’s open doorway. “I should’ve thought of it myself. Thank you, Mr. Black.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmured.
They continued walking and Ivy halted at the next building, a pine structure with two wide steps leading up to its landing. A sign over the door read Jail, Paladin, Indian Territory.
“I need to have a word with Sheriff Farrell.”
“I’ll wait for you out here. No hurry.”
Ah, yes, he probably had an aversion to cell bars. As she turned to go in, he said, “Miss Ivy?”
The low, deep way he spoke her name sent a shiver through her. Intent on trying to dismiss the sensation, she almost didn’t hear his question.
“Is the sheriff someone you trust?”
“Yes, why?” She shifted to face him. Even though she stood on the second step, she still had to tilt her head back a bit to meet his gaze.
He rested a hand on the wooden stair railing. “If you haven’t told him everything that’s going on at your farm, you should. Especially now that two of your animals have been killed.”
She agreed. “Josh knows some of it, and I’ll tell him the rest. Did you check the woods this morning?”
“Yes. The branch was unbroken. Didn’t look as if it had been touched at all.”
“Good.” She opened the door. “I’ll only be a moment.”
She returned shortly. “Josh is out at a nearby ranch handling a dispute. I left a message for him to come out to the farm if I don’t stop back by today.”
Deputy McCain, who was watching the jail in the sheriff’s absence, had asked about Ivy’s “young man.” Conrad could never be accused of keeping his mouth shut.
Pausing on the bottom step, she glanced across the street at the bank. “I was planning to see Mr. Rowland at the bank next, but I think I’ll send a wire to the stage line manager in Boggy Depot first. Butterfield Overland no longer uses our line for their mail, but Territorial Stage Company keeps a regular schedule for passengers. There are quite a few stage stops just like mine across the Choctaw lands. Maybe I’ll hear right back and perhaps have a new contract.”
Gideon’s attention moved to the imposing redbrick building.
“You don’t have to go with me to the bank if you’d rather visit the mercantile or somewhere else,” Ivy said.
“I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”
For a moment, she’d almost forgotten he was here to protect her. “All right.”
Since the telegraph office sat next door to the jail, they were shortly inside. In the morning sunlight, her brother’s friend cast a tall, intimidating shadow. As Ivy’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Gideon made a low noise in his throat.
She followed his gaze. The counters and floor were covered with scraps of brown paper and newspaper. Except for the small patch on the desk where the telegraph machine sat, envelopes and letters covered every inch of the surface. No wonder she hadn’t received Smith’s wire. It might never be found in this chaos.
Elmer Wright stood in the far corner,