"Nance is dead?" Burns had asked the same question three times, almost as if expecting a different answer each time he asked it.
Jeremiah and Branch sat glumly in Wolcott's office, where both had gone as soon as they heard the news from the marshal. Sanders didn't seem to be affected at all by the turn of events, but he'd had longer to get used to the news. Besides, he was the one that found Nance Tesson's body out at the Hooper ranch, and had somehow managed to get the big man and the gray gelding out of there before Delacroix could come back for either of them.
"What do we do now?"
That seemed a reasonable question, given the circumstances. The marshal appeared to be the only one with an answer. "We proceed as before, gentlemen. We agreed to my plan if Nance wasn't successful – and he certainly wasn't. So we do exactly what we were going to do anyway. We take the Hooper property any way we can get it."
After a silence that seemed to stretch forever, Jeremiah finally decided. "Conrad's right. Let's end this. If this doesn't take care of the situation, nothing will. Agreed?"
Burns and Branch nodded, all four of them now in accord. "Then its set for Friday," Conrad stated. No one argued.
XXXXXXXX
Bart hated being woken up multiple times during the night, but he understood the reason for it. He was glad when he finally had no further inclination to go back to sleep. He got out of bed and stretched, got dressed and went into the kitchen, assuming that Bret and Molly had already left for Yuma. They couldn't have been gone that long, the coffee pot was still warm. He heard a horse nicker and walked to the front of the house holding a cup of coffee and almost dropped it when he saw Conrad Sanders poking around the barn.
"What are you after, marshal?" he murmured very quietly as he made sure he was out of sight. Sanders appeared to be looking for something, but just what it might be wasn't clear. He disappeared inside the barn and Bart waited to see what came next. It was over five minutes before Sanders walked back out, now moving towards the house. Bart backed up into the corner of the room, where the shot out window was still boarded up, and held his breath. He had no way to defend himself, considering that he'd left his gun belt across the bedpost and his head was still pounding from the shooting of the night before.
Conrad walked up and down the porch, looking in windows and examining nooks and cracks, and Bart remained still and out of sight. Then he walked around the side of the house and, Bart could only assume, all the way around the back. What was he looking for?
The gambler, being a suspicious man by nature, stayed right where he was until he heard the marshal back on the porch. When Sanders had gotten his fill of searching he went back down the porch steps and walked past the corral, to the far side of the fence where he'd left his horse tied. He mounted and rode away, leaving the man in the house wondering just what it was the marshal had come to investigate.
It was a question he would ponder the rest of the morning.
XXXXXXXX
"How's your shoulder this morning?"
"Gets better every day," Bret answered Molly as they drove along the bumpy road. If she'd been paying close attention, she would have noticed that he didn't exactly answer her question. Truth was it didn't feel as good as it had yesterday morning; that was from a combination of sleeping on the settee and getting up every two hours or so to check on his brother. But his answer sounded good enough that Molly didn't question it. The poor girl had enough on her mind; she didn't need to be worried about him too.
Actually, there was more on Bret's mind than he let on. There was something bothering his brother; he'd seen it ever since Bart had finally explained what happened in Mexico. Maybe that's what it was, maybe he should sit Bart down and talk to him, make sure that he knew where Bret stood on the matter. It was over, closed, dead and gone. Time for Bart to let it go, the same way he'd finally seemed to learn to live with his lack of responsibility in Caroline's death. Put it in the past, where it belonged, and leave it there. Molly asked him a question and he had to ask her to repeat it.
"You haven't met Delgado yet, have you?"
"No. But he sounds like somebody good to know. Hancock thinks so; you think so. That's enough for me."
"I hope he's got some ideas that will help us."
"We'll know soon enough," Bret remarked as they made the turn into Yuma. Molly drove up to the jail and stopped. Delgado's horse was out front; the marshals wasn't. She got down from the wagon and lent Bret a hand; his arm was back in the sling as a precaution. It felt funny to be helped down by the girl, instead of him helping her. "Sorry," he told Molly.
"What for? You were hurt because of me."
At least Bret could get the door for her, and that he did. The man behind the desk stood up as soon as he saw Molly. "Molly! Mi pequeño amigo! How are you?"
Molly rushed over and hugged the deputy, who was obviously Delgado Hernandez. "Del! I'm doing well, considering. Deputy Hernandez, this is Joe Delacroix, Jamie Hancock's partner. I understand you and Hancock got to know each other earlier this week."
"We did. Mr. Delacroix, I'm pleased to meet you. Hancock speaks highly of you."
'He better,' thought Bret. Outwardly he laughed. "Of you, too. Good to meet ya," and he offered his hand to shake, which Delgado took gladly.
"Please, you two, sit down. Marshal Sanders is out somewhere doing something nefarious, I'm sure. How about some coffee? Molly? Delacroix?" Both nodded, and Hernandez brought the coffee pot and two cups over. He poured for Molly and Bret, then filled his own cup and set the pot back where he got it. "Now, what can I do for you? I wish this was just a social call, but I'm sure it's not."
"Joe? Will you tell Delgado what's happened since Hancock was here?"
Bret explained everything, including the disappearance of Nance Tesson's body and horse, and ended with their leaving the ranch this morning. Del listened to the tale and looked thoughtful, remaining silent until Bret was done.
"I can tell you where Tesson's horse and body are, but I can't say how they got there. Doc Bradley found both of them outside his office when he arrived this mornin'. Nance had a shotgun shell right through his gut. I assume that was you, Mr. Delacroix?"
"Joe, please. Yep, that's where I hit him. Pure accident. I heard the shot and fired, then yelled for Molly and got to the trees as fast as I could."
"I'd blame it on Sanders, but I can't see it."
"Why?" Molly asked.
"Because I don't think one man by himself could pick Nance Tesson up. He was dead when you found him, wasn't he, Joe?"
Bret nodded. "He was dead, alright. After seein' the size of him I'd have to agree with you. Don't think one man all alone could pick him up."
"It really doesn't matter who brought Nance in, does it? We know how he died, and we know the consortium isn't done. What's their next move?" Molly was hoping that Hernandez had a better idea than they did, partially from being around the marshal for so long.
"Hancock had a theory when he was here the other day. I tend to agree with him. They seem to have tried everything they can think of, includin' murder. They haven't got much left; I think they're gonna try to . . . "
Before Del could finish his thought the front door opened. It was Mayor Haven and he seemed to be in quite a hurry. "Marshal not here, eh? When was the last time you saw him, deputy?"
"About six o'clock this mornin', Mr. Mayor. He told me he was on his way out to the Bradford place to talk to them about some missin' cattle. Didn't say when he'd return. Do you want me to send him down to see you when he gets back?"
"Yes, would you, please? We need to have a discussion about the latest concerns of the Town Council."
"Yes, sir, I can do that." The mayor stood there, as if there was something else he wanted to say but wasn't inclined to say it in front of Bret and Molly. "Can I speak to you outside for just a moment, Hernandez?"
"Sure, Mr. Mayor. Excuse me, folks. I'll be right back."
"I wonder what that's about?" Molly asked.
"I don't know, but it looks serious." Bret could see the two of them standing right outside, and the Mayor was doing most of the talking. Every once in a while the deputy would nod and say something brief, and then the mayor would start in again. Finally the politician left and headed down the street towards his office.
When Del walked back inside, his face wore a stunned expression. "Everything alright?" Molly asked him.
"I – I – yeah, everything is fine. I'm sorry, I have to go find the marshal. I'll come out to the ranch soon as I can, Molly. Take care of her, huh, Joe?"
Hernandez ushered them outside and locked the jail door behind him, then mounted his horse and rode down the street and towards the Bradford ranch. "You need anything before we go home?" Molly asked, still confused by what had just happened.
"I need my shoulder back but I don't think we can get it here."
"No, probably not," the girl answered as they headed back towards the ranch. Not much was said by either of them most of the way. They pulled up in front of the house and found Bart sitting on the front porch.
"We had company."
"Oh? Who was here?" Molly asked.
"Marshal Sanders. Only he didn't know I was inside. He gave the place a real thorough look-see. Went in the barn, checked all around the house. Like he was lookin' for somethin'."
Bret and Bart exchanged glances. "Lookin' for somethin'? Any idea what?"
Bart knew better than to shake his head. "Nope. That's why I thought I'd stay outta sight. Never did find whatever it was, and he finally left."
"He was supposed to be at the Bradford Ranch," Molly reminded Bret.
"Hey, what did you tell Delgado when you talked to him in town?"
"Tell him? About what?" Bart asked, slightly confused by the question.
"He said you had a theory, and he agreed with you. He started to tell us what it was, and that's when the mayor got there and interrupted everything. He never did get to explain."
Bart opened his mouth to answer and closed it hurriedly. "I don't remember."
"Hancock. Now's no time to joke around."
"No, I'm not jokin'. I don't remember."
Bret sat down next to his brother. "You really don't?"
"I really don't. Sorry. Help me load the wagon so I can get supplies up to Jason, would ya? Without usin' your bad arm?"
"Why don't you take Molly with you? It'd probably do her some good to go see her horses; get her outta here for a while."
"An leave you alone?"
"We left you alone, didn't we?"
This time Bart did nod, ever so gently. "Alright. If she wants to go."
"I want to go," Molly answered for herself, coming back out onto the porch. "I'll even help load the wagon."
"Good, let's get to work," Bart announced, and they all went into the house to start with the loading. It only took a few minutes, and soon Bart and Molly were on their way to the upper pastures. Bret sat back down on the porch, to see if he could determine just what his brother had, no doubt with the help of a head wound, forgotten.
Mi pequeño amigo – My little friend