The Lone Cowboy of River Bend

Nate kicked a rock. “Keen observation, Lawman.”

“I aim to please.”

Randy walked outside, leading his bay horse before Nate could reply. The shopkeeper looked at them and smirked before swinging up into the saddle. Without further incident, he rode away, heading out of town on the road leading to Fir Mountain.

“Let’s get out of here.” Nate didn’t wait for agreement. On edge, he needed to move. His long strides ate the short distance to the corral.

“What’s your rush? If we hurry we’ll catch up to Haze.”

“I need to get out of this town to where I can breathe.”

Nate didn’t pause, moving quickly past the split-rail fence and into the livery, not stopping until he reached the stall with his horse, Jack. With swift, sure movements, he readied the gelding for travel. Matt followed his lead, whistling, while he worked in the next stall. The men were back outside and mounted within minutes. They rode out of Silver Falls City at a brisk walk, an appropriate pace for moving through the outskirts of a heavily populated town, yet frustratingly slow, in his opinion.

“You told Evans you’re suspicious of Haze.”

“And you’re wondering why?”

“Last time we talked, you weren’t.”

Several seconds passed. They continued forward, following a worn pathway through a stand of fir trees leading to a rougher, less-traveled road than the one Haze had chosen. Nate held to the slow pace, waiting for a response. After some time he almost prompted his friend but one look at Matt’s solemn expression caused him to hold his tongue.

“I had a long talk with Mercy.”

A sinking feeling settled in his gut after the sheriff finally spoke. His friend had seen Faith’s little sister in the company of Miss Collier often but Nate couldn’t believe she had any part in spreading the nasty rumors. She’d always been sweet to him.

“I don’t think-”

“She said Miss Collier encouraged gossip about you. Mercy tried to rein it in but others sympathized with the woman.”

“Why? I spoke to her once.” Nate was succinct.

“I hear she has an artful way with the truth.”

“What does this have to do with Haze?”

“I’ve reason to believe he learned about Ben and told her.”

Nate’s hand tightened on the reins. He resisted the urge to put his heels to his mount and let a long, hard ride bring calm. “New rumors?”

“No.” Tension filled Matt’s voice. “The original ones. The rustling started when he showed up in Fir Mountain. Speculation about his past. Stirring distrust without making an accusation.”

“Allowing people to draw the obvious conclusion.”

“Then repeat it as truth.”

Nate shook his head, too frustrated to speak. There was no evidence his cousin had been an outlaw in Cedar Ridge but the fact that the Nash brothers had stalked Ben and his wife all the way to Oregon cast suspicion. The possibility haunted the man since he couldn’t confirm or deny it. An injury caused him some permanent memory loss before they’d moved. Only family members, Matt, Sean, Matt’s deputy, some Idaho lawmen, and a judge knew there was a chance he had a criminal past. Of that group, just those closest to him lived in Fir Mountain. It felt unbelievable one of them let the information slip.

Yet, one of them had, to Haze of all people.

Troubled, Nate squeezed his knees tighter, urging Jack to a faster pace. He’d met Ben for the first time last spring and believed his cousin had been honest, openly sharing concerns about his past with them from the start. He’d proven to be a hard, dependable worker on the Bar 7 and a good friend.

Matt had inquired about the Idaho crimes at Ben’s request but there was no evidence of his involvement. Only one witness ever caught a good look at the robbers and he’d identified the Nash brothers. Since they were already set to hang, the sheriff from Cedar Ridge considered charging them with more offences a waste of time. A judge agreed. With the cases solved in the eyes of the law, and knowing he’d likely never recall the past, Ben accepted the ruling. He wanted to put it behind him now and not speak of it again.

Who, then, had provided fodder for gossip?

The slim possibilities flipped through Nate’s mind for the thousandth time. Matt interviewed everyone with a connection, the Idaho lawmen, Judge Littleton, Claire and her family, Nate’s brothers, even Evie, Ben’s wife, hadn’t been spared. His cousin had confided their relationship had gone through a rough patch but the marriage was rock solid and enviable now. The couple was expecting a baby soon and, in his opinion, deserved peace.

However, everyone Matt had spoken to denied speaking of Ben’s past even as the rumors spread. His sheriff friend had a gut feeling that discovering who wanted to pin the rustling on his cousin would help solve the crimes plaguing his county. With no witnesses, tracks leading nowhere or promising trails washed away by rain, and no attempts to sell any of the branded cattle despite statewide alerts, there wasn’t much else to go on.

The rattle of wooden wheels heralded an approaching wagon and wordlessly Matt dropped back, riding behind him. They rode on down the far right side of the road in single file, allowing the driver to travel past them. In the bed filled with people, Nate spotted Nancy’s pouting face. He slouched in the saddle and bent his neck so the brim of his hat shadowed his face.

Nate straightened as soon as the wagon turned off the main road, rolling out of sight. He looked around while Matt moved forward, riding next to him once again. The road, visible for a good distance ahead and behind them, had no other travelers. He breathed a sigh of relief. The tension in his shoulders relaxed to some degree until his friend spoke.

“If Randy is guilty then I’m afraid-”

“It’s not Faith.” Nate jumped in. She was a good woman. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t bear a life on River’s Bend. Few women would be content to live so far from others. “She had no way of knowing about Ben’s past before the rumors started.”

“I know. This isn’t about her.”

His friend’s almost hesitant tone had him slow his mount to a walk again. “Then who?”

“Claire caught Haze eavesdropping on some ranch hands in his store the other day.”

“And you waited until now to mention it?”

“It was a bit crowded at the hanging.”

“What about before?”

“I needed to think it over.”

Matt was an excellent sheriff. His friend carefully considered all the facts in the crimes he investigated. However, in this case, Nate didn’t understand what needed pondering. Haze, the man who always enjoyed amusing himself at other people’s expense, seemed like a great suspect to him.

“If he’s been lurking in shadows, spying, then one careless mention about Ben where he could’ve…” Matt winced, causing Nate to pause. His eyes narrowed, and certain he wouldn’t like the answer, asked, “What haven’t you said?”

“It may have been Claire.”

“What?” The word exploded from him, both a question and a demand.

Although he and Claire were more distantly related, their mothers were cousins themselves rather than the closer blood tie he shared with Ben because their fathers were siblings, Nate had grown up with the woman. Her family lived down the road. Feisty and fiercely independent, she was as loyal as the day was long. He scowled. If his friend didn’t understand her nature, he had no business marrying her.

Matt studied him for a minute before responding. “For a man who prides himself on his calm nature, you’re testy today.”

“For good reason,” Nate bit out. A loner, even now, some miles away from the crowded city, he felt on edge. And this conversation didn’t help. “You knew what to expect when you asked for my help.”

“The skills of one of the best trackers in Oregon?”

“The best,” Nate agreed, a quiet statement of fact without a hint of boast.

“The companionship of a good friend, who will have my back.”

“Always.”

“And a man grumpier than a bear roused from hibernation when forced to be among people.”

“You’re stalling. Stop,” he demanded in a low, impatient rumble. “Explain what you meant about Claire.”

Matt released a breath sounding just short of a sigh. “When we were apart, she and Evie talked a lot.”

“So?”

“Sometimes they came into town for lunch and… Look, she and Evie are close, like sisters. Claire would never deliberately do anything to hurt her or Ben.”

“I know. Do you?” Nate’s tone was unyielding.

“Yes. But if Haze had been lurking around the livery where they’d leave the buggy or…”

A number of possibilities sprang to mind and some of his defensiveness eased. “I can see how it may have happened.”

“Claire feels horrible.”

“She shouldn’t. If it’s true, then the blame is Haze’s and his alone.”

“Remember, this is all speculation,” Matt cautioned.

“You inferred he and Miss Collier are friends.”

“He’s been spending a lot of time at her bakery.”

“A shop she opened right before the rustling started, and despite few customers or goods to sell, the woman lives well.”

“The clever Miss Collier is notably seen in town during each rustling incident.”

“And you suspect her of more than gossip, don’t you?”

“If Haze is the brains behind the gang rustling, and has played me for a fool all these months.” His friend’s serious expression became grim. “I’ve no business being sheriff. The man is dumber than a mud fence.”

“And Miss Collier?”

“Is guilty of more than being offended that you wouldn’t walk her home. Of what exactly, I’ve no proof.”

To his surprise, Nate found he missed his friend’s earlier good humor and offered support. “You’re making progress.”

“Too damn little.”

The truth of those harsh words weighed heavy on the two men. Over the next few miles conversation dwindled until they were barely exchanging a word. Each had been lost in their own thoughts for some time as they reached the anticipated fork in the road. When the friends moved a few feet off the road and pulled up, they focused on the reason for Nate’s side trip.

“You think Alice is ready to come home now?”

The Rolfes’ long-time housekeeper was like a second mother to Nate and his siblings. He gazed off to the south. She’d left several months ago to help her son following the death of his wife. “Hope so.”

“Jed was… poorly when I stopped by.”

Drunk, as he’d been at the funeral? The one brief letter Alice sent hadn’t mentioned trouble but Nate sensed something was wrong. Concerned, he’d asked Matt to drop by Jed’s place when the sheriff was in that part of the county last week. He looked back at his friend. The pity reflected in the other man’s gaze seemed to confirm his notion. With a nod, he acknowledged the information.

“Come over when you get back.”

“Will do.”

The two men parted ways. Matt continued west, heading toward Fir Mountain, while Nate aimed for a small farm near Ashwood. As much as he longed to be heading home too, riding south granted something he treasured, time alone. Between working on the Bar 7 with his brothers while his parents were away and helping Matt, it was rare to have a moment to call his own.

With almost a day’s ride ahead, he avoided towns and other travelers whenever possible. Nate had had his fill of people. By late afternoon, he felt more like himself than he had in a long while. He made camp in an empty meadow at dusk despite noting a few nearby farms.

Rain drizzled off and on. His tiny campfire provided more light than warmth. Jerky made a sorry dinner and his saddle a hard pillow. It wasn’t the most comfortable night Nate had ever spent but he considered it far better than taking shelter with strangers.

Late the next morning Nate rode up the road toward Redwing Farm. Grey clouds covered the sky, lending an eerie light to the day. He pulled up then reached into his pocket for the crumpled bit of paper his brother, Sam, had jotted down crude directions for him.

Nate studied the scribbles. A glance around seemed to confirm he was in the right place. He turned onto a rutted path kindness could call a road, riding slowly around a stand of tall fir trees, letting Jack pick his way forward. Minutes later, he crested a hill and headed for the house set in the center of a few other scattered structures.

The recent rain dampened the earth, muffling Jack’s hoof beats. He slowed his horse to a walk as he approached the wood-frame home. Dark and silent, with windows shuttered, the simple building looked deserted. No smoke drifted from the chimney.

Concerned, Nate scanned for other signs of life. Gently sloping fields stretched empty for a good distance around. The only signs of life came from a precious few chickens. This time of year, the lack of crops didn’t disturb him but he’d expected to see more animals as well as a person or two.

Nate dismounted, looped his reins around a porch post then walked up to the door. No one responded to him knocking. At a loss, he returned to Jack and climbed back in the saddle.

The stillness pricked at his nerves even though silence didn’t normally bother him. On his homestead only the sounds of nature filled most days. The quiet he found at River’s Bend was peaceful. But here… what he felt was… disquieting.

Leather creaked as Nate shifted in the saddle, searching for someone, anyone. No one moved about tending chores. Not a flicker of movement caught his eye. The corral didn’t confine one four-legged creature. Overall, the farm appeared neglected, almost deserted.

For a second, Nate flirted with the idea that his brother had given him wrong directions, then he dismissed the idea. Sam’s handwriting might be horrid but the man was a stickler for details. It was far more likely he’d read them wrong.

A gust of wind pierced the outer layer of his coat. Nate hunched his shoulders, chilled, as he considered options. After last night’s cold camp, he’d been looking forward to the warmth of a roaring fire, a hot meal, and a comfortable bed. Irritated, he was about to go in search of a neighbor for help when the sight of a board leaning against the barn stopped him cold.

Redwing Farm.

Although the cracked sign confirmed he was at the correct place, Nate felt frustrated rather than relieved. Worry weaved through his thoughts. Alice had known he’d arrive today. Well, she likely expected Sam, but still, she should be here, waiting.

Where is she?

His gaze scanned the area yet again. This time, from a new vantage point, Nate caught a flash of white on the side of the house. He urged Jack forward, riding past the building. On the far side, he discovered a woman with her back to him, battling to remove sheets from a clothesline in the rising wind. Silent, he pulled up and studied her for a moment although he knew she wasn’t the one he sought.

While he’d never thought to ask her exact age, Nate knew Alice had to be in her fifties. Her hair, once as dark as the night, now had liberal streaks of silver. The woman in front of him was bundled against the chilly weather in a long, dark coat but nothing covered her head.

The long, tangled remains of her braid whipped in the wind, holding his attention. The color, a rich ginger shade of red, drew Nate to her, a moth to a flame. His gaze never left the woman as he dismounted. For the first time he felt empathy toward those women who’d pounced on him upon recognition. This woman’s appearance compelled him. He left his mount ground-tied and strode straight to her, trying to make his approach as loud as possible so she wouldn’t be startled.

Chapter 2

The wind ripped the sheet corner out of Hannah Brook’s hand again. Frustrated, a huff of air passed her lips as she tried to wrestle the linen into submission, but even the aggravating task couldn’t hold her full attention. Worry gnawed at her, causing distraction. Her gaze kept returning to where Alice and the kids had vanished into a clump of scrawny oak trees. Sam Rolfe should arrive by midday and she wanted to be elsewhere before then.

Although the older woman had repeatedly assured Hannah the Rolfes wouldn’t harm her or her daughter, she couldn’t quite believe it. The fiery tone Michael used when he’d spoken of his relations remained one of her most vivid memories of him. The easygoing man became downright grim at the mere mention of his family. He’d been emphatic, warning her to stay away from them, but never really explained why.

Maybe if we’d had more time…

Hannah swallowed a sigh. She should’ve pressed him for answers. On days like today, doubts plagued her. She kept second-guessing herself.

Do the Rolfes have a right to know?

Alice had earned her trust, becoming a valued friend over these past difficult months. She’d confided something few people had ever known to her, the identity of Jemma’s father. The older woman promised never to reveal her secret but she wasn’t shy about voicing her opinion. She dearly loved the family who’d employed her for over two decades and believed they deserved to know. And Hannah’s daughter had the right to know them.

Hannah felt torn. As time ticked down to when Sam was due to come for Alice, she struggled to sort out her feelings on the matter and failed. Her decision, or rather lack of one, gave her a nagging sense of failure. Hiding never solved anything. Yet that was what she was about to do.

Alice pointing out the flaw in her plan hadn’t helped. It wouldn’t take long for the older woman to explain to Sam she wasn’t ready to leave, but given the distance he’d traveled, the man would likely spend the night. With no relatives she could claim and no friends beyond those on Redwing Farm, there was no place she and Jemma could stay longer than a few hours. Running off for a short time when he’d probably still be here when she returned made no sense. She’d lain awake for hours last night, debating to stay or not.

Hannah blew out a breath. Maybe it was good Alice was late returning with the children. Her friend could be right. Sticking around, meeting Sam, and getting a measure of the man might be the wiser choice. Wind whipped her hair across her face. She started to raise a hand to brush it away then paused, a sound catching her attention.

Listening, she stilled. A long moment passed but all Hannah heard was moaning from the house behind her as wind battered old boards. She wiped at her face with an impatient motion, clearing some strands of hair from her eyes before returning to the chore at hand.

While Hannah battled to remove another sheet off the line, she inhaled the slight scent of lavender. Her lips curved as a pleasant memory tumbled through her mind. Michael had stumbled across her mother’s place on another blustery day a little over five years ago. He’d caught her outside, charming her eighteen-year-old self with comments about her sweet-smelling clothing and his smile.

A soft sigh escaped her. Time had dulled the pain of losing him but sometimes a memory still brought the bittersweet echo of a dream lost upon awakening. With effort, Hannah pushed thoughts of Michael aside. She needed to focus on her present circumstances, not on what might have been. A decision had to be made and soon. Life didn’t pause in times of struggle or sorrow. A harsh lesson she knew well.

In her life, Hannah had survived losing a number of people she’d loved: her parents, Michael, and recently Bessie. One day her best friend had been here, smiling, happy, talking about her plans for Redwing Farm, how it was going to be a famous breeding place, then the next day she was gone. How fragile life could be, even for a young, healthy woman, was no longer an abstract notion but an inescapable reality. A worry she had on occasion became a nagging concern after the tragedy. For comforting, Bessie’s boys had their grandmother, Alice, and their father lived. Jemma only had Hannah.

If I die, who would care for my daughter?

The sheet twisted, wrapping around one of her arms. Is it fair to keep Jemma from the Rolfes? Alice could be right. Hannah tugged loose of the linen then threw it into the basket near her feet. But what if Michael knew something she doesn’t? Maybe I-

The scrape of footsteps disrupted her musing. Hannah turned, expecting to see someone familiar and gasped at the sight of the stranger stepping up to her. He was an imposing man, standing some inches taller and being quite broad about the chest and shoulders. In the diffused light on this overcast day, with the wide brim of his hat throwing his face in shadow, his expression was unfathomable. Under the weight of his dark, steady gaze, she hardly dared to breathe. They stood, still and silent, for a moment. Then he reached up and removed his hat.

For an instant, the image of another man superimposed over the one before her. Confusion filled Hannah. She took a half step back, blinking hard. Michael? As soon as her thought formed, the illusion faded. She saw the stranger clearly again, noting any similarities between the two men were superficial at best.

Their physical builds and coloring were much the same but there were obvious differences. Jemma’s father had green eyes that most often reflected inner amusement. This man’s hazel eyes were somber and the left one had a faded scar around it. Michael would have hated a mark on his skin. He’d been almost vain about his appearance, keeping his straight hair neatly trimmed and well combed. The stranger, on the other hand, reminded her of a trapper who’d lived near Ashwood for a time. His dark-brown hair had a thick wave to it, tumbling around his face and over his collar to his shoulders, giving him an untamed, wild look.

Her gaze lowered, traveling over his full-length duster to the battered boots made for work. Michael had fancy footwear, shined for show. As she looked back up, Hannah noted well-worn blue jeans and a practical jacket visible between the open edges of oilskin. Both useful items of clothing Jemma’s father would have never worn. His words, a memory, whispered in her mind.

No matter what, darling, a man has to look successful.

The stranger held out a hand. She stared at it for a moment still mired in noticing differences. Michael’s hands had been soft, clean, and well kept, the hands of a gambler. This man’s skin appeared calloused and travel-dirty, revealing he worked hard and outdoors often.

“Need help?”

Hannah shook her head, not in answer to his question but because she didn’t know what to say.

“You sure?”

“I. uh.” What am I doing? Michael was gone, had been for years. Comparing the men was silly and pointless. Hannah pushed away her memories and focused on the stranger. “Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

Her tone became a little squeaky as the likely identity of the man popped into her mind. Her heart beat faster. She’d met him once, years ago, and even though he didn’t look like Hannah, remembered this must be Sam Rolfe, showing up early.

Should I tell him? Do I need to? Fear rushed through her veins. Hannah took a deep breath, gathering her composure. Maybe it’s enough that Alice knows. She gave him a polite smile. “You must be Sam.”

“Sorry, no, I’m Nate.” His hand still extended to her, he moved closer. After a brief hesitation, she grasped it. The contact with his rough, cool skin sent an unexpected wave of warmth through her. “My brother couldn’t make it.”

“Oh.” Which brother in particular didn’t matter, the man was a Rolfe. His arrival decided the fate of her plan. If she dashed off now it might well create the very interest in her and her daughter she wanted to avoid. She pulled her hand free, then remembered her manners. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Hannah Brooks.”

Nate smiled. The sweet, slow movement of his lips sent awareness dancing along her nerves. “Miss Brooks.”