Logan's Land Read online

  “Baxter? Strange. I know of no Baxter in Ruby City.”

  “Well,” I shrugged. “It’s been some time since I’ve had contact with them. Perhaps they’ve moved on.”

  He stared at me a moment longer. “What will you do then, pretty lady?”

  I glared at him. “Don’t call me that. Please.”

  “Then do I call you what? Lisa?”

  I tried to swallow but could not.

  David appeared at the door of the coach. “Lisa, you okay?” He scrunched his eyes as he tried to give Logan James a mean look.

  “I’m fine, David.” But my voice tightened with my lie. Elliot was in trouble. It tore me in half. I wished to stay and learn what I could about my brother’s plight, but I knew I must continue with the stagecoach.

  A hot dry wind blew the dust about. I coughed slightly. The sun was directly behind him now and I blinked with the brightness. Was the sun blinding me or was it the power of his stare?

  Whatever else, I knew I could not let him associate me with Elliot. At least, not until I found out exactly what my brother was accused of and what he had done.

  “Well, pretty lady?”

  David hovered nearer. But what could a boy do? His yet unchanged voice challenged the lawman. “If you don’t leave my friend alone, I’ll... ”

  The man frowned and adjusted the reins on his restless horse. “Don’t worry none, son. I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to your friend.”

  Doing what I should have done moments ago, I turned abruptly and headed back toward the open stagecoach door, feeling my skirts touching the dust of the road. “Come on, David.” I pushed him back inside the cramped space The door slammed behind me, but before the driver could start the horses, Logan James rode up to the window.

  “I thought you were in a hurry to find your murderer,” I said.

  He smiled at me and tipped his hat. “I am. And I shall find him, since I usually get what I want. We will meet again, Miss Lisa… soon.”

  I yanked down the shade in his face.

  Mrs. Germinadi gasped at my rudeness, but the man deserved more than just a slammed shade.

  My heart pounded as the coach pulled away. Sweat dripped from my brow. The elderly gent stared at me before he offered me his canteen. “Thank you, kindly, but I don’t want any water.”

  “Isn’t water, miss.”

  Taking a deep breath, I nodded – even though I didn’t want anyone to see my nervousness, I accepted the man’s offer. Forcing myself to smile at the fellow, I took a gulp of the drink he handed me and gasped, choking as the heat surged through me.

  Coughing violently, I felt Mrs. Germinadi’s plump hand pound my back. “Heavens, man! What did you give her?”

  “Only a little red eye."

  My face went beet red. This time, I took a long drink from the water canteen. The tepid water didn’t cool, but at least it relieved some of the burning in my throat.

  I leaned back and closed my eyes. The breeze on my face informed me that the fat lady now fanned me.

  I wanted to open my eyes and thank her, but I couldn’t. I seemed to have no strength at the moment as I attempted to suppress the hot tears under my lids.

  ~

  Elliot had come out West over two years ago to seek his fortune. After our parents died, he promised he would take care of me, but the little money he had was quickly dissipated. When he heard of the land boom, he decided that we should go West, but he did not want me to join him until he had a home ready for us.

  Promising he’d never let any harm come to me, we had bid each other a tearful goodbye at Chicago’s train station. I was to wait for his word that all was ready for me. Meanwhile, he trusted that I had enough to live on.

  I touched my worn silk reticule as the memory returned to me. I had had enough money, but for only a few months. It soon became apparent that I would have to seek a position.

  Somewhat in desperation, I wrote several letters to Elliot at his last address. With each mail I prayed for a reply. None came.

  Finally, something arrived. His last letter to me ‒ dated in December – talked of how he loved the land and of the marvelous surprises he had for me. Even as he praised the land and the country, he also warned me in the direst of terms how very careful I would have to be when I did come out West.

  Careful of what? I had no clue.

  The December note had stated he wished me to wait until he had all in readiness but promised he would send for me very soon.

  Scolding him for not having written me sooner, I penned a note informing him of my desperate straits.

  Silence followed. By the month of Feburary my options narrowed. To survive it, it became apparent I’d be forced to seek a situation. With my education, teaching seemed natural, but the only job I could find was as governess to some spoiled youngsters in a huge South Shore Lake house. The position would have been passable if their father had not wanted... well, he had not wanted to wed me. That much I knew.

  Within two months, I was forced to quit and took small rooms near the rail station. I sold off as much as I could. My existence was meager but it was better than fearing for my reputation.

  In May, with only a little left in my coffers, I knew I must give up waiting and travel to Elliot on my own. Tom Anders, a longtime friend, had insisted I marry him. But how could I until I knew what had happened to my brother? Refusing Tom, I made my decision.

  With Elliot’s last letter in hand, I went to the telegraph office and informed him that I would travel by train and then by stage to Ruby City, Nevada Territory. Of course, now it was the state of Montana. If he was at all able, I knew Elliot would meet me. If not... well, I didn’t want to think about the possible reasons for my brother’s long silence. I only knew that I must be with him again and it was imperative I leave Chicago.

  ~

  The jerking of the coach brought me back to reality.

  What was I going to do? I didn’t know whether I was more worried about myself – and the fact that I had counted on Elliot being there to greet me, to help me and get settled in our home, and provide for me, as he had promised our dying mother – or about Elliot’s obvious problem.

  My poor brother. What had happened to his big find? What had happened to him? At all costs I vowed I would discover his whereabouts and clear his name, even if it meant dealing again with Mr. Logan James.

  A shudder went through me as I contemplated Logan James. In my mind’s eye, I saw his startling blue eyes staring down at me. Clenching my fists, I renewed my determination. Yes, I would help my brother, even at the cost of taking on Logan James.

  Chapter 2

  We had one more stagecoach stop to change horses before we were to arrive in Ruby City by early evening. Even as we washed our faces in the stream flowing nearby, my thoughts again turned to Logan James. What had been his connection to my brother?

  With aching joints and a worried countenance, I reboarded the stagecoach and noticed we had a seventh passenger. Riding atop with the driver was Clay Washburne, the sheriff. Of course, I hadn’t known his name earlier, and only realized he was the sheriff when I saw the gold star on his lapel.

  Tipping his hat, he stared at me for a moment, then nodded. Did he see the similarities between me and Elliot? I prayed not. I still did not believe my brother could have killed anyone, and certainly not a government agent.

  As I leaned back against the cracked leather seat, I tried to allay my fears by studying the mountains and valleys which surrounded us. Indeed, for most of the journey I understood why Elliot loved the land with its wide-open spaces and snow-capped mountains that towered over us like guardian angels. I inhaled the crisp clean air.

  The road rose again toward the town, which seemed to be perched in the shadow of one of these giants, and I felt the chill of the approaching evening, so I pulled my cape closer about me.

  I truly had no desire to see Ruby City or spend much time in it. From what Elliot had said it was a town that had been and gone. Set up
as a tent city during the gold rush, it had grown to a fair size with people coming from all over to make claims. But when the mines gave out and dwindled, the number of people had dwindled, too. It seemed only those die-hard miners who still believed there was gold in the hills, only the ranchers who valued the land for their cattle, the cowboys who worked for them, and the squatters who demanded their farming rights under the Homesteader’s Act remained. Houses, once grand, were rotting ghosts. I prayed they were the only ghosts I’d see.

  By the time the stage reached its destination of Ruby City, my body ached with exhaustion. Nevertheless, I was glad to have arrived at last. Soon the mystery of the past few years would be cleared up and I would see my darling Elliot. I was determined to find my brother as soon as possible and settle into our new home. I was sure he had a place for us…even if it was only a lean-to on the plains somewhere. The fact that I would be with him, my own family, was enough for me.

  Hugging David I wished him well. “I’ll write when I am settled,” I promised. Then, accepting the driver’s help, I stepped down and had my first look at the small town.

  The driver flicked the reins as the stage rumbled on to its next stop.

  I stood in the middle of the dusty street not sure where to go.

  Directly in front of me was the telegraph office. Next to it stood the general store, which also served as the post office. The main street had a few more stores, one or two frame buildings, including the sheriff’s office and jail house. Down a narrow-twisted street, I saw stables, a smithy along with a few cabins. Wagons dotted the streets, as did saddle horses, tied to the posts in front of the muddied wooden walkway.

  “Your case?” Sheriff Washburne said, his aged hand touching mine, as he handed me my leather-bound possessions. "Looks mighty fine.” His fingers traced the E.E. on my brass lock. “Yep, mighty fine.”

  I shrugged and grabbed my portmanteau from him, forgetting just how heavy it was.

  “Tell me, is there no church here?”

  “Why sure, ma’am. Just up the street a bit and down toward the next valley. Pretty little thing it is. Right by the mountainside. Built it there so the miners could go pray afore they went in. Course, we don’t have much minin’ here, nowadays.”

  “Oh?” I squinted as I put my hand to my brow and looked up into the dying sun. “What do you have here?”

  “I’m surprised, ma’am. Would have thought your, uh, cousins would have told ya.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I snapped. “They are my cousins. But as I explained earlier to your men, they don’t know I’m coming.”

  He smiled and slid down from the top of the coach, hitting the ground with a thud. “I’d rightly guess as they won’t know, neither. Not if you’re plannin’ on spending time here. We’ve not had anyone by that name for quite a spell. Looked it up in the register, I did.”

  “Oh.” I flushed. “Then in that case, I… guess… I shall have to decide what to do.” I prayed my unease did not show.

  I scanned the street and watched the men head into the saloon and the rickety hotel just opposite us. The name above it said Janey’s Place. Not many women were in evidence. Those whom I saw seemed to be the floozy type wearing heavy make-up and feathered costumes. Yes, their ancient faces that had seen better days. Like them, the hotel appeared in sorry need of repairs. In fact, it felt as if the whole town lived in the shadow of its former self.

  Where could my brother be? I had so prayed that he would meet the stage but there was no sign of any welcoming party for me.

  Then angst attacked me as I recalled ‒ my brother was a wanted man. I could hardly expect him to greet me especially with the law standing next to me.

  “You’ll excuse me, sir.” I removed my bag from him and spinning around, I headed for the telegraph office.

  Even as I forced my measured steps, I felt the sheriff’s eyes upon me.

  ~

  The small telegraph office contained only an uneven surface and a barred window. No one seemed to be here.

  “Hello?” I called out. I stood on my toes and tried to peer inside the telegraph room. “Is anyone there?”

  “Yeah, honey, I’m comin’.” The plump elderly lady slammed the back door, shaking the whole building, smiled and plunked her huge body down on the stool opposite me. Her whole face was framed by the bars of the window. “What can I do for you, child?”

  I flushed. It had been a long time since anyone had called me “child.”

  “Well? I ain’t got all day. Got a message you want t’send?”

  I shook my head. “I... I was just… wondering... I mean… I sent a telegram here about – ” I forced myself to think back. Had I really traveled nearly a whole week to get here? “I uh… sent it… two weeks ago addressed to Elliot Edwards. Do you know if he received it?”

  “Edwards? Edwards?” She mumbled to herself as she flipped through a pile of yellow envelopes. “Nope, no Edwards here.” She peered through the window bars again. “Said you send it two weeks ago?”

  I nodded. “Elliot Edwards.” I paused. “Or perhaps, Edward Elliot.”

  Frowning, she rolled up the desktop. My eyes widened as I saw all the paper there. How did anyone find anything in that mess? But the woman seemed to know what she was doing and went directly to one of the pigeonholes. Flipping through more envelopes, she shook her head. “Nope. Sorry, dearie.”

  “Does that mean he picked it up?” A note of hope crept into my voice as I prayed that my worst suspicions weren’t going to be confirmed.

  “Can’t say that he did. Can’t say that he didn’t, missy. Just know it’s not there. Chances are that he did, though to confess, I haven’t seen the lad ‘round for some time. Maybe he had someone else come pick it up.”

  “Do you know Mr... Elliot?”

  “Know most of the folks in this town. Leastwise, those that stay a spell. In the beginning, he used t’come in, chat me up, you know, like I was his best girl.” She grinned and coyly touched her gray bun.

  “Who else might have picked up the telegram?” I asked, eager for any information which would lead me to my brother.

  She shook her head and wisps of graying hair escaped from the bun. “Don’t rightly know. He were keeping company with Drucilla, one of the girls in the hall,” she shrugged, “but that were some time ago.”

  “Oh.” I drew back. I’m sure the disappointment was evident on my face.

  “Something wrong, honeybunch?”

  I sighed and gazed onto the street. Darkness had fallen. Soon I would hardly be able to see anything. Even as if she read my thought the old lady adjusted the kerosene lamp brighter.

  I studied her a moment. Who could I trust? Was this woman safe?

  Chills flooded me. I had no idea what to do now. My travel focused on finding and being with my brother. Now I was here, it seemed I was still alone. Gingerly, I touched my reticule. There remained only $50 to my name and with the prices out here in the West my funds would not last long.

  “You care for a cup of tea? Got the water boilin’. Sure does get cold in here sometimes, and who knows when in tarnation that darned machine’s gonna go off. When it starts clicking away,” she shook her head, “just like a baby crying. Gotta take care of it quick.”

  I smiled at her analogy and nodded. “Tea would be nice.” I paused. “The food was so horrid at the stagecoach stops that — ”

  It was then she noticed my portmanteau. “Why you ain’t hardly been in town none!”

  “No, I haven’t. I just arrived. I was supposed to meet my… ” I realized I was about to give myself away. “Yes, tea would be lovely.”

  She opened the Dutch doors and let me into the inner sanctum. “Don’t you fret none, child. Whoever supposed t’meet you, he’ll come. These damn men forget ‘bout everything sometimes. And then he’ll come a’rushin’ in and a’beggin’ your forgiveness.” She eyed me as she poured the steaming water into a cup. “He your intended?”

  I shook my head, smiling
slightly. “My brother.” It had slipped out before I could stop myself. I only prayed I could trust her.

  “Tarnation!” She held the lamp to my face and indicated I should take off my bonnet. I don’t know why I did, but I did. “Ah yes, I see. You do look a bit like him. Got the same hair anyway. Though mind, it’s been months since I seen him meself. Like as not, he’s holed up in some mine working his claim.”

  “He has a claim!” My heart pounded. I had suspected and hoped that was the case, but Elliot had never actually said anything about mining himself. If he had found gold, or some other precious metal then all our worries would be over.

  “Rightly so.” She nodded, her huge hand hovering over the milk.

  “Yes, please.” I removed my cape and warmed my hands in the small coal stove sitting near the center of the room.

  “You think this is cold? Just you wait. We get some real storms here.”

  I shrugged and hoped I could find Elliot and move on to a warmer climate before the winter became too severe. I had always hated Chicago winters. Being in this wilderness where the weather was even more damaging did less than thrill me.

  Accepting the tea, I asked her, “What can you tell me about Edward’s... I mean Elliot’s claim?” I hoped she hadn’t caught my slip as I recalled that Elliot had switched around our name. “Where is it?” I looked up at her.

  “Name’s Theora, child. Theora Lewis. Finally got me a man four years ago. Then the loggerhead goes and gets himself killed in some silly gun fight.” She shook her head. “So here I am, mindin’ the store.” She smiled at me and then sat down on a well-worn chair that creaked with her weight. “Can’t say I know much about Elliot’s claim cuz he’d be filin’ with Ezra Perry over at the bank.”

  I looked out again, at the now dark street. Drunken laughter floated over from the saloon.

  “Well, it doesn’t appear Edward’s coming for me tonight.” I sipped the tea. “Perhaps I’d better see about getting a room and bath.”