Owen Page 5

  As he stepped out into the bright sun, he saw the stage had stopped in front of the mercantile.

  The driver leaped off and opened the door. The first passenger had a parasol and opened it before she stepped onto the packed dirt road.

  She certainly wasn’t dressed for Nebraska. She wore a light-colored brown skirt and a white blouse. Both appeared to be made from a finer fabric than the rough linen most folks wore west of the Mississippi. It appeared she had slippers on her feet instead of sturdy boots.

  Owen snorted. Female visitors to Flat River were rare. He wondered if she was visiting a friend or was one of Miss Marcy’s new doves. Whatever her business, it was none of his.

  Her nose wrinkled as if she smelled something distasteful. When she lifted her head to look around, Owen paused for a moment. Whoever she was, she was the prettiest woman Owen had seen in quite a while.

  She had light brown hair and he could see golden streaks being picked up by the bright sun. She had a pert nose and a set of lips the color of ripe berries. He wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

  Shaking his head, he dismissed those thoughts. He came to town on a mission, not to lollygag over a young woman. He walked by the coach on his way toward the doctor’s office.

  She turned to look at him, her eyes going wide. Owen noticed her eyes were the color of the summer sky. She approached as if to speak to him.

  “Ma’am,” Owen said tipping his hat and moving past her.

  “Were you waiting for someone?” she asked, moving the parasol to her other shoulder.

  “No ma’am. I wasn’t. Whoever you were waiting for will be along shortly, I’m sure.”

  She looked disappointed but picked up her bag and moved to the walkway in front of the store. Owen didn’t give her another thought as he made his way to the doctor’s office.

  Doc Mueller’s office was directly across the street from the Marshal’s office. Owen entered the small building.

  “Doc? Briggs?” he called.

  “In the back,” Doc Mueller called.

  Owen walked behind a curtain. An older man, Doc Mueller was at a cupboard rummaging through a drawer.

  Marshal Orrin Briggs was sitting on a chair. He stood when Owen came into the room. Marshal Briggs was tall and slender. He stood the same height as Owen, which was a few inches over six feet. Owen could see that his cheek was swollen.

  “Chapman,” Orrin said, moving to shake Owen’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Been busy at the ranch. How’s your tooth? Max told me this is where I could find you.”

  “It’s nothing Doc here can’t fix.”

  “You here to see me or the marshal?” Doc Mueller asked as he handed a tin to Orrin.

  “Needed to see the Marshal. Seems Frank Hartman was found dead on our land. Pa asked me to come to get you.”

  The marshal thought about what Owen said for a moment. “Doc, you are going to need to come too. Someone is going to have to bring the body back to town.” Orrin handed the doctor a coin and shoved the tin in his pocket. “Might as well get Jake.” Jake Sides was the undertaker in town. “We can use his wagon. Where are we headed to, Owen?”

  “South end of the ranch. The hands found him on the riverbank.”

  Doc shook his head. “Water does some terrible things to a body.” He grabbed his hat and coat. “Might as well get going,” he said, ushering Orrin and Owen out the door.

  Owen and the marshal galloped their horses back to where the river flowed along the side of the ranch.

  The crowd was thinner. Pa must have sent everyone back to work, he thought. He noticed Marmee and Penelope were there. Alice was nowhere to be seen. At least one of the Chapman women had sense enough to stay at the house.

  They rode up and Orrin dropped from his horse and went to kneel next to Frank’s body. “He must have been in the water for a few days.”

  “Makes sense.” Owen scratched his chin. “Chat Hartman came by with his brothers earlier this week looking for him. We had that bad storm that caused the river to roll, I wonder if he got caught in that.”

  The marshal stepped over the body and knelt on the other side. “Caleb, help me roll him over.” Caleb grimaced, but put on his leather gloves and assisted the marshal. “I don’t see anything that would have caused his death. Maybe he fell off his horse and hit his head.”

  “Don’t appear he’s got an injury on the back of his head,” Caleb said.

  “He couldn’t have fallen. His horse returned to the Hartman ranch without its saddle. Maybe he ran into some unfriendly sort of folks?”

  “Could be, Owen. Could be.”

  “Do you think he ran into the cattle rustlers? Max said you have one at the jail.” Owen saw Caleb stand and flex his fists.

  “Was it the Richards’ gang?” he demanded.

  Duke Richards was a well-known cattle rustler in Nebraska. He had taken several head of cattle from all the ranches surrounding Flat River.

  If it weren’t for him and his gang of miscreants, Michael would still be alive. The Chapman brothers wouldn’t have split up trying to find the cattle thief.

  Their younger sister, Marianne, wouldn’t have been standing outside the saloon waiting for Michael when he tracked down Duke Richards to Denver, Colorado, and confronted him. Duke wouldn’t have shot him in cold blood at that saloon before disappearing once more.

  Michael’s body arrived by train, then by wagon, along with a note from Marianne that she was going to remain in Denver. It took several years for the family to recover from the devastating loss.

  They healed, even more, when they found out that Marianne had hired her new boss, Archibald Gordon of the Pinkerton Agency to help track down and bring Duke to justice.

  His gang disappeared, but it would make sense that they may have resurfaced given the growth of the cattle industry in Nebraska.

  Doc and the undertaker arrived, and they loaded Frank into the wagon. Marmee came out with a blanket so Frank wasn’t exposed on the back of the wagon.

  “Someone will need to tell Verna her boy is gone.” Marmee started crying. Marmee and Verna were the closest of friends until that terrible day when the two families were split apart.

  “It’s alright, Marmee,” Weston said, patting his wife on the back. “I’ll go over and let them know.”

  “Pa! You can’t do that,” Caleb insisted.

  “They’ll shoot you on sight,” Everett chimed in.

  “I’ll do it,” Owen whispered. “They came to me earlier this week; it is only right that I am the one to tell them.” He looked at his brothers. “Besides, they already think you had something to do with it out there on Mustang Hill.”

  “I’ll go with you, Owen.” The marshal walked over and mounted his horse. Owen climbed up on Winchester. “Doc, if you or Jake find out anything, let me know. I don’t think Randall Hartman is going to take the loss of his youngest son lightly.”

  Chapter Six

  Ellie saw the town rise in the distance and watched from the window of the stage as it grew bigger. It appeared to be ridiculously small compared to Atlanta. It was everything Ellie dreamed of.

  Flat River, she was sure, was filled with kind people and she couldn’t wait to be welcomed by Frank’s family and friends. It was probably a town where everyone knew everyone’s names and raised their families together. She sighed as the horses drew nearer to the few buildings that made up the town.

  The land was dry, and Ellie fanned herself, trying to escape the heat and dirt that was entering the coach. Her dress would be filthy by the time she arrived. She changed that morning before the train arrived in the small town of Grand Platte before catching the stagecoach to Flat River.

  There were two other passengers on the coach. A man who appeared to be more interested in his paper than making chit-chat on the three-hour ride. He appeared to have a frightening air around him, such as that of a gunslinger, so Ellie was quite content he kept to himself.

  The
other was a woman. Small and timid. She had dark hair, almost black with doe-like eyes. Her face was caked in powder and Ellie thought she could see bruises on the woman’s pale skin. The powder was doing a poor job of disguising the yellow and green along the edge of the woman’s jaw.

  The woman must be traveling with the man, as she jumped everytime he cleared his throat. A shudder went through her. That could be her if she’d married Arlo.

  Ellie attempted conversation with the woman, but when the man cleared his throat, the woman shifted in her seat and looked out the window. What an odd pair, she thought.

  The stagecoach finally arrived at the edge of town and proceeded to rumble down the street. It appeared there was only one street in this small town and all the buildings were straddled on the left and right sides. The town was much smaller than Ellie first realized. There were less than a dozen businesses, several saloons, and the rest appeared to be residential. Why would such a small town need that many saloons?

  Eventually, the stage stopped in front of a building with a wooden porch that was covered in washtubs, brooms, and bags of flour. Ellie waited until the driver came to open the door. She stepped out into the dry air and opened her parasol to shade herself from the mid-day sun.

  Looking around, she wrinkled her nose. Yes, the town was smaller than she imagined. That was alright, though. Flat River would be perfect. She didn’t want a larger city.

  She looked around and didn’t see anyone that appeared to be waiting for her. Then she saw him. Oh my, he was handsome.

  He stood at least a full foot taller than her. He wore a hat – a Stetson she believed, and she couldn’t see the color of his hair as it was cropped short against his head, but his beard was a light brown. It framed his square jaw but didn’t cover his cheeks. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and just a spot of hair connecting his bottom lip to the beard. It almost looked like an anchor.

  Fuller beards were all the rage in Atlanta. In fact, most men wore mutton chops; narrow at the top of the face, thick and bushy at the bottom. She would have to write to Polly and tell her what she had seen.

  She continued her perusal. The man’s shoulders were broad, and he wore a shirt made from a fabric she couldn’t identify. It appeared to be much thicker than linen. He had a string tie at his throat, with an ornament holding the strings together instead of a bow. Bolo tie. She remembered reading that in one of the books.

  His shoulders tapered down to a trim waist and thick legs covered in a dark blue material that disappeared into a pair of worn leather boots. As he walked by, Ellie caught sight of the brownest eyes she had ever seen.

  Maybe this was Frank? The man appeared older than his early twenties, possibly nearing thirty, if not older. Ellie didn’t have a picture of Frank to compare to the men standing around. Oh no! What if he lied to her? What if he was older than twenty-three?

  In all the correspondence she had with Frank, she realized she only had a vague description of what he looked like. Frank was tall, thin, had a short beard and a mustache. But that described most, if not all, of the men she had seen after she reached Ohio.

  It wasn’t his physical description that made her fall in love with him, it was the flowery words describing life in Flat River, as well as his plans to start his own ranch and begin to raise horses. He had already purchased the land and just needed a wife. It sounded like a wonderful arrangement. When Frank finally proposed via letter, it was all Ellie could do not to hop on a train immediately.

  Ellie came back to the present and shook her head from the memories of Frank’s letters. She gave a little smile to the man approaching her.

  “Ma’am,” he said tipping his hat as he moved to walk past her.

  Ellie switched her parasol to her other shoulder. “You weren’t waiting for someone, were you?”

  The man with the deep brown eyes shook his head. “No ma’am. I wasn’t. Whoever you were waiting for will be along shortly, I’m sure.”

  She felt disappointed but murmured her thanks. The driver lowered her trunk to the ground.

  “Might as well get this out of the road.”

  “Thank you,” she told the driver. “I think the man who is supposed to meet me is running late.”

  A frown etched the driver’s face. “If you were my woman, I wouldn’t keep you waiting.” He grunted as he lifted her trunk and put it on the platform in front of the store.

  Ellie gave an awkward laugh. Picking up her bag she moved inside the mercantile. The store was warm, the scent of cinnamon and apples filled the air.

  A woman appeared from behind a curtain and stopped short when she saw Ellie. The woman held the most delicious looking pie between two towels. “I didn’t hear the bell ring,” she greeted. “Not that I can hear much when I’m in the back. What can I do fer ya?”

  The woman placed the pie on the counter. That was where the tantalizing smell was coming from.

  Ellie heard her stomach rumble in protest. The last time she ate was breakfast that morning. She didn’t realize the stage ride would take nearly three hours, or she would have had a heartier repast.

  “I was just wondering if there was anyone in here that was waiting for the stage?” She moved closer to the counter, looking at the display of cheeses and sweets behind the woman. “And I’d like a piece of cheese, please.” She was sure that Frank would take her for dinner when he arrived. Although now that she thought about it, there didn’t appear to be a restaurant in town.

  “Haven’t seen anyone waiting,” the woman replied as she cut a thick wedge of cheese and wrapped it in a sheet of paper. “Crackers?”

  Ellie’s stomach gurgled again. She gave a little laugh. “Yes, please.”

  The woman placed several crackers in a waxed bag and added the cheese to the top. “Where ya from?” she asked, handing the bag to Ellie.

  “Atlanta. I was coming to meet my husband.”

  The woman’s eyes flew open wide. “You one of those mail order brides?” Ellie nodded. “Heard of ‘em. I never actually met one before. Welcome to Flat River. I’m Rose Arden. My husband is Dillon. He’s in the back somewhere.”

  “Thank you. I’m Elenore Brooks, but my friends call me Ellie.”

  “Right nice to meet you, Ellie. Ain’t too many respectable women out this way. Harsh land out here. Who were you waiting for?”

  “Frank Hartman.” Rose choked on the breath she was taking. Ellie looked at her with concern. “Everything alright?”

  “Does his momma know you are coming?”

  Ellie was taken aback. “I – I – honestly don’t know.”

  Frank mentioned his family was very large and could be intimidating until you get to know them, but he talked more about getting his own place and settling down in his letters. Ellie wondered if there was more to the story.

  “Wouldn’t put it past Frank not to tell her. Verna Hartman is very protective of those boys.” Rose leaned back from the counter and gave Ellie a smile. “Just you never mind about me. How about a slice of pie while we wait for your Frank?”

  Her Frank. She liked the sound of that. “How much do I owe you for the cheese and crackers.”

  The woman waved her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t you even worry about that. Think of it as a welcome gift.” She sliced a piece of pie and put it on a plate, scooting it towards Ellie, before slicing a second piece. Rose offered Ellie a fork and then bit into her own piece of pie. “Mmmm,” she moaned around her bite of pie. “It never gets old.”

  “What doesn’t?” Ellie picked up the fork and scooped up the corner section of the pie.

  “The first bite of a pie right out of the oven.”

  Taking a small bite, Ellie felt the flavors explode in her mouth. Apples covered in warm cinnamon, with a hint of cloves and something else Ellie couldn’t put her finger on.

  “Oh my, that is good.” Her stomach gurgled in agreement. Ellie gave a laugh and ate another bite. They made small talk while they finished the pie. “Thank you
very much. I feel better already.” She looked out the window at the sun setting in the sky. It would be dark soon. She couldn’t believe that Frank hadn’t shown up yet. He knew when she was arriving, and he promised to be there to greet her when she stepped off the stage. A feeling of disappointment filled her chest. “I don’t know what is keeping Frank,” she said turning around to Rose.

  “He’ll probably be along soon. It’s the start of roundup season.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When the men go out and round up all the cattle. He probably lost track of the days.”

  “Is there anyone who can take me to the Hartman ranch?”

  Rose put her finger on her cheek. Ellie could see her biting her bottom lip. “Go see the marshal. Three buildings down. He makes the rounds and can probably drop you off.”

  Ellie thanked the woman and walked down the street to the Marshal’s office. She knocked on the door and entered. A man was sitting behind the desk with his feet up on the desk. He had been reading the paper, but now his head leaned back, and a soft snore escaped from him.

  “Excuse me.” The man didn’t respond, so Ellie said it louder.

  “Wh-wh-what?” The man dropped his feet from the desk and floundered in his chair, looking around to see who woke him.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you the marshal?”

  The man dragged his hand down his face. “No. Name’s Max Butler. I’m just watching things while the marshal is out of the office. How can I help you, miss?”

  Ellie’s face fell. “I needed a ride out to the Hartman ranch. Mrs. Arden recommended I come down here to see if the marshal could help me.” She turned to go. “I’ll see if there is a hired wagon that can take me out.”

  “There ain’t.” Ellie stopped and looked at Max. He shrugged his shoulders. “Ain’t no hired wagons.”

  Ellie let a tear roll down her face. She was hungry, tired, dirty, and just wanted to get to her new home. She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Butler. I guess I’ll just wait until morning.”