Читать книгу: «The Lone Cowboy of River Bend»

Prologue
Silver Falls City, Oregon - November 1891

At high noon, Nathaniel Rolfe looked up, away from the teeming town square to the clear blue sky. The sun blazed gold overhead. On this rare winter day, not a drop of rain, flake of snow or cloud above was present, only the pronounced chill in the air suggested it was nearing the end of November. The drone of countless conversations around him increased in volume and his breath frosted the air in an irritated huff.

Restless, Nate straightened away from the old, weathered post as Marshal Evans’ voice cut through the din. He turned, giving his back to the gallows. He determined the best way to escape the crowd after the hanging while only half listening to the lawman’s statement. With nothing left to do, he tugged the brim of his hat down, shielding his eyes from the sunlight’s glare, and waited.

An expectant hush fell. The group surrounding him pressed in tighter. He tensed, eager to be gone. As soon as Nate heard the leaves of the trap door crash open, he started walking and didn’t bother glancing back. People who usually stayed at home during this time of year, rarely socializing with those outside their immediate family, stood young to old all around him, doing the exact opposite. He shook his head in disbelief, watching them crane their necks, straining to get a better view of the Nash brothers hanging at the ends of their ropes. Only the bonds of friendship and family brought him to this spectacle and he couldn’t wait to leave.

It wasn’t that he disagreed with the sentence. The two men convicted of the murder of Janet Payne and the abduction of his shirttail cousin, Claire, had been guilty beyond all doubt. They’d earned their fate. Still, Nate frowned when cheers echoed down the length of the street. He took in the excited crowd, hooting and hollering, celebrating death, and his scowl deepened. It was times like this he questioned taking part in society at all.

Nate quickened his stride, heading toward the Trail’s End Saloon on the edge of Silver Falls City, where he’d arranged to meet his friend, Matthew Marston. People littering the streets and plank sidewalks hindered him, slowing his pace. After only a few yards’ progress the sensation of someone staring at him prickled his skin, further souring his mood. Two possibilities sprang to mind. Occasionally a person took a less-than-polite interest in the scar a strand of barbed wire had left over his eye in childhood. He hoped that was it.

However, something odd had been happening lately. Women had been taking an undue interest in him. He pressed onward harder, somewhat faster, but hadn’t made it ten steps before a young woman planted herself in his path.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” She matched his sidestep, stopping him cold when he tried to dodge her.

Nate stepped in the other direction. “Excuse me.”

Again, she matched his movement, remaining directly in his way as she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m Nancy and you’re the-”

“No,” he broke in, hoping to stop her loud, high-pitched voice from cutting through the ruckus of the crowd and drawing more unwanted attention to him.

Her hands clapped together like an excited child. “Yes, you are.”

How did she notice me in this mess of people?

It didn’t make any sense. Nate gritted his teeth. He wasn’t unusually handsome. His facial scar wasn’t that remarkable. He wore the same basic clothing as most of the men on the street, sturdy leather boots with signs of wear, blue jeans, an oil- cloth duster over a wool-lined coat and a brown hat that had seen better days.

“I can’t believe I spotted you.”

Neither could he, but Nate managed, barely, not to speak the sentiment aloud. He didn’t try to question her, though. Recent experiences led him to believe it’d be pointless, asking the others hadn’t gained him any useful answers.

In the last several months while he’d been helping Matt, the Sheriff of Silver Creek County, and his cousin, Ben, track rustlers, someone had spread romanticized gossip about him. Only Heaven knew why. Now random women sought him out but how they’d known Nate on sight remained a mystery. At times like this, he could swear someone must have drawn up a sketch of him, then passed it around the county, woman to woman, like some sort of wanted poster.

“I need to go.”

“You can’t leave.” A slender, gloved hand clamped onto him with surprising strength. “My sister would die to meet you.” The cunning glee reflected in her eyes sent the sensation of being an albino deer, hunted for its rare hide, washing over him. “We brought a picnic and you must join us.”

Revulsion knotted his stomach. Too many people were acting as if they were attending the summer county fair instead of a winter hanging. He’d never understand why a somber event excited some otherwise good citizens. Nate fought to respond with the manners his mother insisted on from all her children even as adults.

“No.”

Her face fell into a crushed expression at the mere hint of harshness in his tone, reminding him of her youth. Nate ground his teeth again for a few seconds before drawing in a fortifying breath. He managed to tack on a muttered “thank you” before moving away from her as swiftly as possible.

The easy escape sent relief coursing through him, but before long he sensed someone was following him again. Hoping the young woman wasn’t pursuing him, he glanced back and discovered Sheriff Marston, the man he sought, a few paces behind him. Nate grimaced even as he paused, waiting. The smirk on his friend’s face gave him the distinct impression Matt had witnessed his encounter.

Nate shifted impatiently. His gaze swept the people near him, worrying Nancy, or another like-minded woman, would dart out to grab him. In seconds that seemed to take an eternity to pass, Matt stepped up next to him.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His good friend sounded a shade too innocent.

Delivering a glare as his only answer, Nate resumed walking toward the edge of town.

“Don’t ask you about the fine young woman who stopped to chat with you?”

Nate flicked a glance at the other man, holding his tongue with effort. He was pleased Matt and his cousin, Claire, had healed their relationship, truly, but ever since those two had gotten back together the man was insufferably cheerful. He found a positive take in almost every situation now.

It grated on his nerves.

“She looked sweet.”

Ignoring the statement, Nate kept moving, weaving through the milling people.

“What was wrong with this one?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he snapped, “You already know.”

“She dared speak to you?”

Nate didn’t respond.

“Were you this rude to the poor child?”

“No.”

“Really?”

The disbelief in Matt’s tone made him reconsider his answer. “Maybe, a little.”

“Shocking, your mother would be appalled.”

“Then it’s good she’s in Ireland, where word of my poor manners won’t reach her.”

“Oh, you never know, it might. Stories about the Recluse of River’s Bend have traveled throughout the wilds of Oregon.”

Nate halted abruptly, scowling anew at his friend. “It’s not funny.” He and his brothers were responsible for the family ranch while their parents were overseas. “I don’t want anything spoiling Ma’s visit.”

Still grinning, Matt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother hasn’t seen her sisters in over twenty years. I doubt hearing you’ve been rude would surprise her, let alone spoil anything.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.” Nate shook his head, moving forward again. “And I have to be rude. These women aren’t discouraged by polite chit chat.”

“You shouldn’t let a little attention bother you.”

“I don’t like it.”

“They’re just flirting with you.”

“Strangers? With no encouragement?” Nate shook his head. “They’re making a laughing stock out of me.”

“Those women were definitely not laughing at you.”

Nate leveled a look at Matt. “Last week, out on the Double J, Judson’s hired hands kept hanging back in the shadows of the barn, grinning and whispering.”

“They could’ve been talking about Ben.”

“They wouldn’t have been smiling if the subject had been whether or not Ben is the rustler.” Nate held his gaze steady.

“Good point.” Matt paused for a moment, then advised in a more serious tone, “Don’t let it get to you. Ignore it.”

“I’ve tried. Hasn’t helped.”

The long-legged men covered a lot of distance in a short span of time. They passed three storefronts before Matt spoke again. “Gossip usually dies if it isn’t fed.”

“Then obviously someone is feeding it.”

“Agreed, but you have to admit, it’s fascinating how far the story has spread.”

“I don’t need every woman I run into trying to heal my imaginary broken heart.”

“Don’t exaggerate. It’s only been a handful.”

Matt smiled in the face of Nate’s hard stare. “That’s five too many.”

“There has always been a woman or two seeking your attention, what’s a few more?”

His friend’s matter-of-fact tone frustrated him but a group of approaching women caused him to hold his tongue. Nate moved, putting Matt between himself and the group of seven. He bowed his head to hide his face until after they passed.

“No woman singled me out until the stupid story spread.”

“Emmaline Porter.”

“What about her?” Nate demanded. “She married a pig farmer from Corvallis.”

“After she spent a year trying to get you to notice her.”

“One misguided woman.” He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.

“And Agnes Gardner?”

“Moved to West Bend with her sister.”

“Because you broke her heart.”

“I never spoke a word to her.”

A short bark of laughter burst out of Matt. “Exactly.”

“Your point?”

“The basic story irritating you now has been whispered by the good women of Fir Mountain for years. Someone simply built on what was already floating around.”

“You think I brought this on myself?” Indignation accented each word.

Matt shrugged. “Some women don’t appreciate being ignored.”

An increase in raised voices distracted Nate. He looked in the direction of the sound. A short distance ahead of them people had withdrawn, clearing a circle in the middle of the street around a handful of men who were shouting and shoving one another. A glance back at Matt revealed the somber shift in his companion’s expression. His friend appeared to be on the verge of stepping in but then Marshal Evans arrived on the scene. The other lawman shoved his way through the onlookers and in minutes had the situation under control.

“I don’t ignore people. I just enjoy spending most of my time alone. Nothing wrong with it.” Nate indicated with a jerk of his head the sullen men facing the marshal as he and Matt walked past them. “Some people could benefit from doing the same.”

“Or perhaps they need more time with others to reinforce proper behavior.”

Nate shrugged. “With time and patience you can make a coyote a pet but it’s still a coyote.”

“So you fear certain women want to make you a pet?”

“Cute.”

“My point is-”

“Silly.”

“That being reclusive makes you-”

“I’m not a recluse.”

“Oh? Other than when you’re helping me? When do you ride into town?”

“How often I’m in Fir Mountain is immaterial.”

“I beg to differ. The fact you’re rarely seen makes you seem mysterious-”

“Mysterious,” Nate scoffed.

“Mysterious,” Matt repeated firmly. “Especially after you moved onto River’s Bend. Ever since, you’ve come in for staples or to attend church only once in a blue moon. The women refer to you like some sort of tragic hero, finding you romantic-”

“I am not romantic.”

“Plainly the young woman disagreed with you.” Matt laid a hand on his chest, fluttered his eyelashes, then without missing a step continued in a high-pitched mockery of a woman’s voice. “After losing the love of his life, the poor man moved out into the wilderness, all alone, to nurse his wounded heart.”

“You don’t need to repeat the whole ridiculous story.”

“It’s what I heard Nancy say to another young lady after you stomped off.”

Nate shook his head. “So a twisted version of old gossip is being spread further. Great.”

“That’s the nature of gossip, twisting the truth.”

“So you still believe this is harmless tongue-wagging?”

“Actually, I’m not sure.” All hint of the good-humored teasing dropped from Matt’s tone. “The rumor about Ben is a deliberate, directed act. Someone wants to pin the rustling on him. The sudden attention to, and spreading of, your heartbroken recluse story has a similar feel but-”

“Someone is making me into a laughing stock.”

“If so, then why? You’re one man living in a remote area of a sparsely populated county.”

“Are you trying to say I’m not important?”

“In the grand scheme of things, no.”

“But?”

“I don’t like coincidences. Someone made certain to spread your story far and wide around the same time as the rumor about Ben cropped up. Perhaps, as a distraction.”

“From what?”

“Good question.”

“One you didn’t answer,” Nate muttered, stepping off the sidewalk onto the muddy road. “I need to get my gun.”

Only lawmen had been allowed to carry firearms in Silver Falls City today. Nate couldn’t have cared less whether he carried a weapon in town or not, but out on the range a gun was necessary for protection. Matt changed direction with him and they headed for a small stand, where a couple of the marshal’s men guarded the confiscated guns. The inconvenience of having to reclaim his pistol deepened his impatience and, noticing a line forming, he hastened his pace. He couldn’t wait to shake off the dust of this place and get clear of all these people.

“Because I don’t know. My first assumption may be correct.”

“Miss Collier?”

“Hell hath no fury like-”

Nate looked pointedly at his friend. “I did not scorn that woman.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your intention.”

“I turned down a single invitation.”

“Publicly.”

“She cornered me outside after church.”

“Where half the town heard you say no.”

“I was polite.”

“I know.”

“And for that you think she…” Nate shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s clever, making your refusal all about your broken heart instead of being personal.”

“Seems like a great deal of trouble to go to over one man’s no thank you.”

“Miss Collier strikes me as someone who does not like being told no and if someone shared the old gossip about you with her, well, it’s not that big of a leap.”

“I’d think others would see her purpose, then.”

“Not if what she said fit the narrative.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t socialize because Faith broke your heart.”

“Oh for the love of… That isn’t it.”

“She did hurt you.”

“So?”

“Well, now it seems only the right woman can heal you,” Matt responded as they closed in on the men gathered in front of the stand.

“What? I don’t need-” He broke off when more men approached from behind. Nate rushed forward, securing a place in line, then continued when his friend caught up with him. “We’ll finish this later, on the road.”

Matt raised one eyebrow at Nate’s cross tone. “I look forward to it. I need a word with Gus before we go.” He nodded to the left. “I see him over near the saloon. Come join us when you’re done.”

Troubled thoughts rolled through his mind as Nate watched the other man amble away. Coincidences disturbed him as much as they did Matt. How was the resurrection of old gossip connected to the rustling? The answer remained as elusive as the identity of the rustlers. Despite months of hard work, there was still no hard evidence, just suspects and suspicion.

Ranchers throughout the county were growing understandably furious. Yesterday a number of cattle had gone missing from the Crooked Rim Ranch, a few hours’ ride from Silver Falls City. He’d met Matt there early this morning. The owner was certain he knew who was responsible. Frank Meyers had accused his friend of not doing his job because he refused to arrest Ben right then.

Nate reached up and rubbed the tense muscles on the back of his neck. If undisputable proof didn’t turn up soon, he feared his cousin would take the fall. Distracted, he was slow to step forward when the person in front of him moved and a familiar, smug, voice attacked.

“What put a sour expression on your face, Rolfe? Was the sight of those lowlifes’ necks getting stretched too much for a man like you?”

Great. Can this day get any worse?