Page 17 of Love and Order

CHAPTER 17

Lord, You’ve brought me this far. Help me the rest of the way. Please let me find Rion …

Callie clutched the dusty lantern she’d borrowed from Mrs. Ingram’s barn, holding it out, golden light pooling on the ground while she guided Lady up the steep mountain path to where Rion had found her days ago. The same ride had taken less than an hour coming down from Rion’s campsite. But on this, one of the darkest nights of the month, with only a tiny sliver of moon, it had taken her roughly three hours to find her way. It hadn’t been easy. Everything looked different bathed in darkness and lamplight. Yet she’d done it—as the sky streaked with hints of dawn, she’d made it back to the stream where Rion first came across her. Now to cross to the other side and take the path to her left. The cave should be ahead.

A shiver raced through her, as much from the cool mountain air as the knowledge she was so close to Rion’s camp. What would she find? The evidence, if she could call it such, indicated Rion was probably the murderer. Her own brother. Would she find him with Hattie? Was she alive, or—

She groaned. How could Rion be guilty? He was her kin. And from what she recalled, he was gentle with her and Andromeda. But a lot could happen in fifteen years—and his life hadn’t been easy.

“Oh, Lord—” She groaned the words, unable to pray more.

For several minutes, she sat in her saddle, letting Lady drink while she searched for the confidence to finish her job. After what seemed an eternity, she urged Lady forward, splashing into the stream before she scrambled onto the far bank and started down the path. However, she stopped feet beyond. Lady’s hooves were far too loud in the silence. After another moment, she dismounted, tied Lady, and circled to the horse’s right side to draw her rifle. As she stepped out again, a pistol’s hammer cocked, chilling her to her core.

“Stop where you are and explain yourself.” Rion’s voice split the quiet.

Her heart pounded. “Rion Braddock?”

Stunned silence hung there an instant. “Miss Jarrett?”

“It’s me.”

The hammer uncocked, and a shadowy form moved along the line of trees, well outside the circle of lantern light. “Why’re you crashin’ around up here at this time of night? You tryin’ to get the drop on me?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“What in blue blazes is so important you had to interrupt a fella’s sleep?”

She trembled. “It is important.”

This time, he moved from the darkness, the yellow lantern light casting wicked shadows across his face, even as it glinted on the pistol still in his hand.

“You in some kinda danger?”

That depended on how he took what she had to say. “Could we go to your campsite and talk?”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded and reached to untie Lady’s reins. “C’mon. I’ll make coffee.” He walked ahead of her a couple of feet, then paused and reached for the lantern. Callie didn’t resist, happy to not be hefting its weight.

Minutes later, they reached the cave, and he returned his gun to its holster, lying on the cave floor within easy reach of his bedroll. While he stoked the fire, put water on to boil, and loosened Lady’s cinch, she peeked into the back of the cave. It was only about ten feet deep, with a low ceiling—and beyond his campfire, the space was empty save for his few belongings. Relief washed through her. Hattie wasn’t here. So Rion hadn’t abducted her.

Unless … Had he hidden her elsewhere? Or already killed her? Dumped her body in some unknown place?

Lord, Rion can’t be behind these crimes! Can he?

She stared at the cave’s dirt floor—pockmarked with his boot tracks, half of which contained the odd, crescent-shaped mark. Her stomach knotted, and she reached for the cave wall, feeling suddenly sick.

Lord, I don’t want to believe he’s guilty …

He cleared his throat and waved for her to sit on his rumpled bedroll. He sat across from her.

“All right, what’s so all-fired important you’d risk your pretty neck to find me in the night?”

Father, give me the words. And give him ears to hear … everything. Let the truth become evident.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Skeptical, he shook his head. “You’re worried about a little lie to a stranger?”

“We’re not strangers.” She plunged in before she had time to think. “My name isn’t Kezia Jarrett. It’s Calliope Ann Braddock.”

He blinked once, then again, and his features hardened. “That ain’t funny. Quit your joshin’.”

“I’m not joshing. Our parents’ names were Richard and Elise Braddock. You—Orion James—were born on January 4th, 1848. Andromeda Mae was born November 26th, the next year, and I came along on April 5th, 1852. When I was a little girl, I couldn’t say your name or Andromeda’s, so I called you Owhine and her Dwama.”

Rion gaped at her. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

Her throat knotted. “So do you believe me?”

He eventually nodded. “I ain’t never told people my middle name, and I’d all but forgot my birthday. Garvin never made no fuss over such things.”

A sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh ripped from her throat, and she covered her mouth before more escaped.

“I been searchin’ for you and Andromeda for years. Never had any luck. How’d you find me?”

“That’s”—she tried to smile, unsure how he’d take the next news—“an interesting story.”

“So tell it.”

“I’m a Pinkerton.”

He looked at her as if a horn had grown from her forehead. “A what?”

“A Pinkerton detective?”

“They let women do that?”

She grinned. “Allan Pinkerton has for most of my life. He hired me, and when he learned that I was searching for my brother and sister, he allowed me a lot of leeway. I went back to New York, found the orphanage, and dug through thousands of papers to find anything I could about where you and Andromeda ended up. I found her adoptive family, and I wrote to her in St. Louis. The day you found me fishing, I was reading a letter from her. She’s been wondering about us and wants to see us.”

Rion grunted and he hung his head, his eyes unusually watery.

“I couldn’t find anything about you, but one of the men who chaperoned us on the train still works at the orphanage.

He’d taken notes on where we all got adopted. He found that you’d made it out here, so several months back, Mr. Pinkerton sent me west on a case and told me I could use my spare time to search for you. So when I saw you at the church service, I—”

“Ran after me and invited me to Sunday meetin’.” Hearing the thickness of his voice kicked her own emotion over the edge. As tears spilled down her cheeks, he rose, tugged her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her.

Safe in her brother’s embrace, she wept. And if she wasn’t mistaken, so did he.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you who I was,” she whispered once the storm in her chest subsided.

“Why couldn’t you then, but you can now?”

She stepped back, head hanging. “I shouldn’t have.”

“But …?”

Lord, how do I say this?

“I’m working a case. A series of murders.”

“Murders … I thought the Pinkertons investigated train robberies, recovered stolen goods, and the like.”

“Mostly, we do. But the first two murders were on or near trains we protect, and Mr. Pinkerton took a special interest.”

“And how does that weigh on you tellin’ me who you really are?”

She slipped her hand into her pocket, grasping her small derringer. “The evidence indicates …”

Oh, Lord—help!

“Spit it out.”

“Did you take Hattie from town after leaving Mrs. Ingram’s?”

“Take Hattie?” His eyes narrowed, and any emotional walls she’d managed to dismantle were erected again in an instant.

“She’s missing, Rion. And a witness says a man fitting your description took her.”

Joe must not have missed Callie’s departure from the boardinghouse by much. Before he could reach the livery to saddle Rusty, she was mounting up outside the building and riding off, lantern in hand. After she departed, he’d paid the livery owner a dollar to watch where she turned, then alert Sheriff Downing to follow. Perhaps it was a mistake, but Joe pursued on foot, figuring she wouldn’t be moving fast and he’d be quieter. Plus, Rusty could use a rest.

It had been almost painful watching her lantern bob through the darkness on what amounted to a narrow game trail. Numerous times, she must have made wrong turns because she suddenly backtracked, retracing her steps to pick up where she’d missed the correct trail. Her slow pace allowed him to stay close, despite being on foot, and let him reach the stream as Rion Braddock first called out to her. Now he held his breath outside the cave, straining to hear where Callie would drive the conversation next.

“My description?” Braddock guffawed. “What’re you sayin’, Calliope? You think I kidnapped her?”

“I don’t want to believe it, no. But your boot tracks were all over the floor she was taken from.”

“My boot tracks?” His voice turned hard.

“Yes. Like this one.”

Joe imagined her pointing to a track in the dirt inside the cave—or maybe the drawing she’d showed him from the abandoned cabin, although she’d left her satchel back at the boardinghouse.

“I’d be plain stupid to wear such boots if I was tryin’ to hide my movements, don’t you think? If I was on a trail or tryin’ to hide my movements, I’d wear moccasins.”

“Aside from the tracks, the eyewitness said a big, dark-haired man with a beard and two horses grabbed Hattie.”

“You’re loco! What reason would I have to take a woman, much less kill one? Y’all told me over dinner that she went to stay with a friend. I didn’t know where Miss Hattie was, and I had no reason to seek her out!”

“Then come back to town, and let’s sort this out.”

From inside the cave, shuffling caught his ear. Joe eased his pistol from his holster.

“You’re accusin’ me of things because of a boot print?”

“And a description that fits you.”

“And a bunch of others too!” Braddock’s voice dripped contempt. “I ain’t killed no one.”

“It’s a distinctive boot print. And there’s more than just those two things.”

“Name ’em.”

“Come to town, and I will.”

“Durn it all, little girl! You oughta know murder ain’t in my character.”

Braddock’s words grated, and Joe eased the Colt’s hammer back, ready to pounce, though Callie was undaunted.

“That’s the problem, Rion. We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years. We don’t know each other.”

“That don’t change the fact we’re kin.”

“That’s why I came to you alone. We’re kin, and the brother I remember always tried to do the right thing.”

Relief washed through Joe. How could he have thought she was coming to warn him?

“Please … come back to town. Let’s sort this out together, because I don’t think you did this, but you’re the only lead we have.”

“Not a very good detective, are ya?”

Joe gritted his teeth at Braddock’s taunting words.

“Maybe not, but I’m trying.” Callie’s voice quavered, and the urge to wrap her in his arms overtook him. Braddock had no right—

“Our jobs are similar, Rion. What would you do if you saw that either Andromeda or I was wrongly accused of murder?”

“I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Would you let us go—even though other bounty hunters and lawmen might shoot us on sight or hang us from the nearest tree?”

“That’s what I’m worried about! I certainly ain’t killed a woman, but if you take me in, I’m likely to get my neck stretched for it.”

“Rion, I can’t believe God would allow me to find you just to take you away again. He’ll show me how to clear your name. Please come with me.”

Joe eased the gun’s hammer back in place, though he kept it in hand and stepped into view. “I give my word as well.”

They jerked to face him.

“What’re you doing here?” they both chorused.

“I went up to ask you about your drawing of that boot print. But you were gone, so I—”

“You a Pinkerton too?” Braddock grunted.

Joe nodded. “I am. Both of us are undercover, so keep it quiet.”

“You think I did this as well?”

“Your sister’s a fine detective. If she believes you’re innocent, then I’m going to hear her out and help her prove it.”

Braddock glared. “You both give me your word?”

“Absolutely,” she whispered.

Joe nodded. “As a man and a Pinkerton.”

His demeanor steely, he blew out a sharp breath. “Fine, then. Take me back to town. But I didn’t do what you’re accusin’ me of.”

After sunrise, traveling the narrow game path was much easier, especially since Rion allowed Joe the use of his spare horse, Mischief. He led, with Rion behind him, and Callie at the rear. More than halfway to Cambria Springs, Sheriff Downing met them and listened to Joe’s retelling of what had happened. After his summary, Downing recommended he and Callie head to the boardinghouse and check in, so as not to cause Mrs. Ingram any further worry.

“Mr. Nesbitt, a word, please?” Callie called from the back of the narrow path.

He dismounted and pushed past Braddock to reach her.

She leaned down, and her loose hair fell, creating a beautiful brown curtain between them and the other men. He squelched a smile at what felt like an intimate moment, especially as the thought to kiss her took hold.

“Did you mean what you said? You’ll help me clear my brother’s name?”

“I did. Why?”

“Then don’t leave Rion alone with the sheriff. I’m not … certain … about Downing. He fits the killer’s vague description nearly as well as Rion does.”

He’d had similar thoughts, especially as he’d pondered the events of the other night. Why had Downing been hiding in the shadows not far from the Tunstall home?

But he was a lawman. Surveilling from the shadows wasn’t out of line in his business. But why had Downing scared the tar out of him?

She straightened, her hair falling back against her shoulder. Callie cleared her throat. “It’s settled. I’ll go to the boardinghouse. You help Sheriff Downing get Mr. Rion to the jail.”

He nodded, not entirely happy. If Rion Braddock wasn’t the murderer, the real culprit was still on the loose. Fortunately, by the time they would separate, they’d be back in town.

At the base of the trail, Callie headed toward Mrs. Ingram’s while he and Downing led Rion to jail.

Rion was sullen as they got him down from his horse and walked him inside. Downing took his gun belt and several knives, then searched his saddlebags before locking him in a cell.

Downing swung the door shut and stashed the keys in a desk drawer. “I’m goin’ to tend his horses. See if you can’t get him to tell ya where he stashed Hattie.” The lawman departed.

With him gone, Rion stepped up to the bars.

“Got some questions for you, Nesbitt.”

“All right.”

“Is Nesbitt your real name?”

He considered before shaking his head. “Joe. Trenamen. But keep that quiet. Folks around here know me by my undercover name.”

“What about what you told me at the medicine show? You truly got feelin’s for my sister, or is that part of your cover too?”

His brows arched. “That’s all true.”

“Does she know?”

“I—I need to make my intentions clearer.”

Behind him, Callie cleared her throat.

“Now’s a good time.” She shot him an unsteady smile.

Joe’s cheeks burned. “Thought you were at the boardinghouse.”

“Mrs. Ingram had a hard night. She’s sleeping now, so I came here. Looks like I was right on time.”

Braddock nodded. “Listen, Trenamen, I’ve got no assurances I’m leavin’ this cell except to meet the hangman. I need to know Calliope’s cared for.”

“You’re not stayin’ here and you’re not going to the gallows, Braddock. We’ll find the real killer.”

“Promise me anyway.”

Joe reached through the bars and offered Braddock a hand. “I won’t let anything happen to Callie.” He sealed the oath with one firm shake of Rion’s ice-cold hand.

Callie came and wrapped her hands around both of theirs. “I just found you. I’m not letting anyone or anything take you away again.” She met Joe’s eyes. “Now, help me, please. We need to save my brother.”

Joe glanced Braddock’s way before returning his gaze to Callie. “Let’s get started.”