The Circuit Rider by Amore Dani

Author:Amore, Dani [Amore, Dani]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2012-09-05T22:00:00+00:00

Forty-Nine

Tower rode back to the Whitcombs’ big house on the hill. Dark storm clouds were gathering north of town, a veil of blackness setting a backdrop behind the buttes.

Bertram the butler opened the heavy front door and gave no greeting to Tower.

“Might I have a word with Mrs. Whitcomb?” Tower said.

The butler’s smile was thin and without warmth.

“I’m afraid they’ve retired to the country for the day,” he said. “I believe a picnic lunch was packed, and they’ve gone. I am more than happy to let them know you were here upon their return.”

Tower weighed his options.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

The butler shut the door with more than a little emphasis.

Tower climbed onto his horse and rode back toward town, then circled around so he came up far behind the Whitcomb house. He began a series of semicircles, riding to cut sign, as the trackers called it. He expanded his search, casting wider and wider circles.

A picnic for the Whitcombs would mean enough food and drink for four people, Tower assumed. They would definitely not go via horseback. A wagon to hold all of the food and refreshments would certainly have been required.

Tower was nearly a quarter mile from the house when he at last picked up fresh tracks of a horse and buckboard.

Tower followed the tracks as they headed north toward the buttes, then veered on a dim game trail toward the west.

The buckboard clearly needed to skirt any terrain too challenging, and Tower saw that the trail mostly meandered over rolling valleys and meadows, the landscape becoming more lush the farther it went from the plateau upon which the town of Twin Buttes sat.

As he rode, Tower thought about Sadie Bell. A girl caught between a powerful man, a lack of authority in the town—hell, they didn’t even have a sheriff—and probably a range of emotions and fears. Panic being chief among them.

Though he’d never met her, Tower could only imagine the sense of powerlessness and fear she must have been experiencing. Going after the men upon whom most of the town depended on economically would have been a lonely and terrifying situation.

Ahead on the horizon a gap appeared, and Tower sensed a body of water in the distance. He crested the hill and gazed down upon a mountain lake nestled between a saddle of hills with thick stands of cottonwoods and scrub brush surrounding the shoreline.

The buckboard sat at the edge of the water, the horse still in its yoke, munching from a feed bag full of oats.

A single person sat on a blanket facing the lake.

Tower edged his horse closer.

The person, a woman, turned to look at him. She had curly chestnut-brown hair piled high on her head. Her face was pale, with fine features and a startling pair of green eyes.

She wore a white dress, her feet were bare, and a lace shawl was around her shoulders.

“Mrs. Whitcomb?” Tower said.

She raised the wineglass in her hand.

“Guilty as charged,” she said and gave a little giggle. Tower wondered how much of the wine she had had to drink.

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