“Maybe. Or maybe they’re hiding in there. And maybe they’ve got their crosshairs on us.”
Maggie rode close, her thigh pressing firmly into his.
When they reached the dirt lane that led to the house, Will stopped and studied its surface. It was what he would have expected from a path leading to an abandoned property, all hardpacked earth and weeds growing up.
Which was strange, given that someone had been inside just the night before.
He scanned the grass to either side of the path but saw no signs of horses having passed.
Perhaps the squatter had no horse. Perhaps he had walked here from wherever he had last taken up residence.
Orthey, Will reminded himself. There could be a whole slew of folks staying here.
“Hello, the house!” he called again.
Silence.
He moved in a slow circle around the home, calling out from time to time and getting no response.
When he reached the back of the place, he finally saw tracks where someone had been walking back and forth between the house and barn.
“Hello, the barn!” Will called and, getting no response, approached with caution that turned out to be unnecessary.
The barn was empty.
But there were fresh horse droppings in one stall, and it only took a minute to read the signs from there.
“Whoever he is,” Will said, “he’s been avoiding the main road. See? He’s been cutting across the back lot, avoiding folks.”
Maggie nodded, looking unsettled. “Do you think he’s an outlaw?”
“Could be. But might not be, too. Lots of folks on the move these days, and I reckon most are in no hurry to be seen. One way or the other, I’m not worried about it.”
Maggie smiled. “Neither am I, then. When I’m with you, I feel safe.”
“Good. But you keep that shotgun handy just in case.”
They dismounted and ground hitched the horses and knocked on the door and went inside.
Whoever had been staying here had taken good care of the place. He had left no personal items but had made his mark by sweeping the floors and setting wood in the fireplace.
Maggie noticed, too. “Well, whoever’s been staying here isn’t a slob, anyway.”
Will nodded. “I stopped by a few abandoned places on my way home, and they were all torn up. Mud tracked all over, rotting food on the tables, trash on the floor. Most times, folks had busted up the furniture to burn instead of bringing in proper firewood.”
“Well, our visitor seems to be a well-mannered guest,” Maggie said.
“He does indeed,” Will agreed, but inwardly, he knew that meant nothing. Some of the deadliest men he’d ever known were fastidiously, even compulsively clean, and most good soldiers understood the value of keeping their gear and base in good order.
“I sure would love a house like this,” Maggie said, drifting from room to room, having finally relaxed enough to do what she’d set out to do. “Come on, Will, let’s explore the upstairs.”
“All right. But I hope our guest doesn’t come back while we’re up there. Think of the scandal.”
She paused at the entrance of the stairs. “You’re going to mind your manners aren’t you, Mr. Bentley?”
“Of course, Miss Dunne.”
“Then let there be a scandal,” she laughed and disappeared through the door. “It’ll make us the most interesting figures in the county.”
