Chapter Two
"It's your move." Ben righted himself, relieving the strain on his lower back. With two of his sons away from the ranch, he'd spent several days performing more physical chores than usual. Adam would return in a few days, but Joe would be gone for several more weeks. Perched on the edge of the burgundy chair, Ben waited, patiently at first, for Hoss' next move.
His middle son sat motionless, his lower lip curled, one side tucked beneath his upper teeth. In one fluid movement, he reached for his rook, grasping the top between his fingertips. The rook stayed put. Hoss's hand returned to his lap.
Ben's shoulders sagged. "Hoss, it's almost ten o'clock. I have to be in Virginia City tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. I'd like to finish this game before midnight."
Still staring at the chess board, Hoss propped an elbow atop his knee, settled his chin into his palm, and drummed his fingertips against his cheek.
"Hoss," Be growled, "will you please make a move?"
His father's tone startled him. "Huh? Oh, sorry, Pa." Once again, he reached for a chess piece, this time, hovering over his rook before moving toward his pawn.
"Son?"
Hoss flicked his wrist in the air and flopped back against the back of the settee. "Dadburnit, Pa, I wish Adam was here to talk me through this. You reckon he'll come walkin' through the door any time soon?"
Ben relaxed against the back of his chair. "Since the Monoville town council planned for three full days of discussion, and in view of the fact that Monoville is a three-day hard ride from here, and seeing as how Adam will be riding just four miles west of Carson City . . ."
"He ain't comin' home tonight."
"And we ain't finishing this chess game." Ben rose from the chair and stretched out his back. "I'm turning in for the night. Put out the lamps before you come up, son."
"Yes, sir," Hoss said, returning his gaze to the chess board.
"And Hoss . . ."
"Huh?"
Ben pointed to the large, pine table. "No cheating."
Hoss clutched his chest. "Pa, you're preachin' to the wrong son."
Ben winked and slapped Hoss's back. "Sleep well."
"Night, Pa."
Ben started up the staircase, rubbing his neck as he climbed. He'd reached the fifth step when there was a frantic rapping on the front door.
Hoss sprang to his feet and rushed to the credenza. In one fluid movement, he slid his pistol from the gun belt. As the rapping continued, he turned, ready to glance toward the staircase, expecting his father's approach. He didn't get the chance. Instead, he nearly ran into his father who already stood at his side.
Ben armed himself, his brow furrowed at the incessant banging.
Hoss cocked the hammer of his gun, then nodded to his father.
"Who's there?" Ben shouted, his gun at his side.
"Please, Mister Cartwright, let me in!"
The woman clearly knew where she was.
Ben and Hoss exchanged worried glances.
"It's a gal!" Hoss said softly.
Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap.
Ben turned the latch, and the woman nearly toppled into the house.
"I'm sorry, Mister Cartwright," she said breathlessly. "I didn't want to say anything more out there. I may have been followed."
"Someone's after you?" Ben asked, poking his head out the door before bolting it behind them.
"Yes. I mean, I think so. I mean, I'm not sure."
Hoss thought better of setting his gun aside and instead, strapped on his holster, all the while taking stock of their attractive, harried visitor.
Ben stepped toward her, offering the settee with a wave of his arm.
The woman's nod was tentative, but she gathered her skirts and walked to the chair.
"Hoss," Ben said, "see to her buggy."
The woman sat and then looked up at Ben. "Oh, I don't have a buggy"—she cleared her throat—"just a horse." She coughed into her gloved hand. "He's tethered outside."
Ben faced his son, who stood gaping at the woman. "I think the lady might appreciate a cup of coffee." He turned back to the woman. "Or would you prefer a brandy?"
Removing her gloves, the woman nodded. "Brandy would help, Mister Cartwright, if it's not too much trouble."
Ben thumped Hoss's chest, snapping him from his stupor. "Hoss."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, Pa?"
"Get the brandy and the glasses."
"Yes, sir."
Ben seated himself in his chair and considered the distraught woman on his sofa. She sat with her hands in her lap, her fingers fidgeting, and she looked everywhere except at her host. He was taken with her natural beauty. Blonde haired and blue eyed, her high, defined cheekbones gave the impression of a perpetual smile, but when she glanced up at him, he saw something in her eyes that he knew all too well. Fear.
The clang of the decanter against a glass startled the woman, and Ben gave his son a scornful look.
"Miss," Ben said softly, "you obviously know who I am. Who are you?"
Hoss lowered the silver tray, and the woman accepted the brandy without hesitation. Father and son watched as she downed the entire glass.
She forced a fleeting. "My name is Ann. Ann Reid."
Hoss knew the name, but struggled to place it.
Ben made the connection immediately. "I'm afraid Adam isn't here, Miss Reid, but Hoss and I will do whatever we can to help."
The mention of his older brother was the missing link for Hoss. This beautiful woman was someone from Adam's recent past.
"I know Adam's not here, Mister Cartwright." She turned the glass around and around in her hands. "I arrived in Virginia City this morning, and when I got off the stage, I overheard the sheriff talking to the driver. He said Adam Cartwright had gone to Monoville and he wasn't sure when to expect him."
"That's right," Ben said. "We don't expect him for at least three days."
"Good," Ann said softly. "I mean, if he isn't here, he's safe. But then . . ." Ann dropped her head into her hands and the brandy glass tumbled to the floor.
An alarm rang in Ben's ears. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said, picking up the glass. "Is my son in some sort of danger?"
"Yes. I mean, I think so," Ann said. "Yes."
Ben sat forward in his chair. "Miss Reid, I think you'd better start from the beginning."
Ann knew she could trust Adam's father and brother, but suddenly, she felt every inch the female that she was. She inhaled deeply, but that only served to make her cough again. She stood, her knees nearly buckled, and she quickly lowered herself back onto the settee.
"I'm sure Adam told you what happened last year in Placerville." She didn't wait for a reply. "That a man I knew, Tom Burns, who looked just like Adam, said and did things using Adam's good name."
The thought of what Burns had put his son through shone on Ben's face. "Tom Burns nearly got my son hanged for murder."
"I know, and I'm sorry for my part in all of it." Ann blushed. "You see, Tom and I, well, I was foolish. Foolish and selfish."
Ben stiffened. "Yes, well, your testimony exonerated Adam in the end."
"It did," Ann said. "And Adam said he forgave me, but I can only imagine . . . As I was saying, Tom did things he shouldn't have. He was married to an awful woman named Valerie, and her brother, a man named Worth Silcott, was a friend of Tom's."
The mere mention of the woman's name was revealing—Ann had loved Tom Burns deeply.
"After Adam helped me search for Tom, and we found Tom's body, the charges against Adam were cleared. Adam and I, well, we went our separate ways. I found work in a nice place." Ann hung her head and wringed her hands. "That's not quite accurate. I was a barmaid in a tiny mining town called Belmont."
She dared to raise her head and was greeted by anxious looks from both Ben and Hoss.
"Two months after I started work there, someone ransacked my room at the boarding house, and a week after that, the bartender told me a strange man had come asking about me.
"Now, I know saloon girls draw the attentions of all sorts of men. Some are looking for companionship, most are looking for more. But this man asked about me more than once. Thanks to a few good people in Belmont, I learned that he asked if I was married, and if and I had been spending money I couldn't possibly have earned. I started getting a strong feeling that this man was following me everywhere I went."
Ann paused, letting the information settle.
She took a deep breath. "Mister Cartwright, my room was ransacked two more times, and one night, the bartender saw that man following me when I left work. He ran across the street and told the sheriff."
Even now, Ann's fear was palpable.
"By the time the sheriff got to my boarding house, I was standing in the corner of the room with a gun in my hand. You see, I knew the man was following me. I never saw him, but I felt his presence, you know?"
Ben nodded. "Did the sheriff catch the man?"
"No," she said, frustration in her tone. She stood and paced in front of the hearth. "Sheriff Markham said there was no evidence that I'd been followed, and that the bartender had exaggerated. He said a woman in my line of work couldn't help but draw the attention of lonely men, and if one of them had searched through my things, maybe I should find a new line of work."
"That ain't right," Hoss said.
"It may not be right," Ann said, "but it tends to be true."
Ben needed to hear more. "Please, continue, Miss Reid."
"Yes, of course. The next day, I had a dress fitting on Main Street. When I returned to my room, the door, which I know I had locked, was hanging open."
Captivated by her story, Hoss interrupted. "Did ya get the sheriff?"
"No, and I'm glad I didn't."
"I don't understand," Ben said.
"I went inside and the place had been ravaged again. My clothing was strewn about, my books laid torn apart in a pile on the floor, and my mattress was cockeyed on the frame. I turned to run, where, I'm not sure, and that's when I saw it."
"What?"
"This note." She reached into her blouse pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. She considered reading it aloud, but instead, handed it to Ben.
He took the paper, unfolded it, and silently read the first two lines.
"What's it say, Pa?"
Ben looked at his son, then back at the paper. "You have what's ours, and we aim to get it. That stupid sister of mine killed Tom, but you and Cartwright are why we don't have what's rightfully ours! We want our money, the money Tom hid before he died. We know he told you where it is."
Ben paused, and for a moment, he watched Ann pacing relentlessly.
"Valerie's dead," Ben continued. "I saw to that. And if you don't want to end up the same way, you'll get the money. And just to be sure you do, we'll be paying a visit to Adam Cartwright.
"Get the money, and when you have it, bring it to the mine. You know the one. We'll be watching."
Ben folded the paper and settled back in his chair. Ann stopped pacing, fearful of his silence.
"What are we gonna do, Pa?" Hoss asked softly.
The silence broken, Ann hurried to Ben and bent down next to his chair.
"I swear," she pleaded, "I don't know anything about the stolen money. I knew Tom had been in prison, but we never talked about any money." Her tone changed. "Mister Cartwright, I had to come here. I had to warn Adam."