Beulah’s boarding house sat at the northwestern edge of town.
Conn and Sheffield rode up to the place. McKay circled around back just in case Ben Blake had come back again and might try to run for it.
Conn and Sheffield got down from their horses and hitched them and went up the steps onto the covered porch, where a white-bearded old timer rocked, looking out at the mountains.
“Afternoon, sir,” Conn said. “Beulah around?”
The old timer nodded to the door straight ahead. “Go on in. Folks come and go. Beulah’s back there cleaning up after the midday meal.”
“Thank you, sir,” Conn said and went inside.
“He didn’t even pick it up,” a woman seated at a table told the man sitting across from her. She glanced at Conn then looked back at her companion. “Can you imagine? He didn’t even pick it up.”
Conn hesitated.
Was this Beulah?
Maybe, but he doubted it. She was nearly as old as the man in the rocker, a bit advanced in years to be sweethearts with a man not much older than Conn himself.
A big, fair-haired woman stepped out of a room down the hall, her face red from exertion or perhaps emotion.
Seeing Conn, her eyes bulged. But she recovered quickly, showing him a smile. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you looking for a room?”
“Not a room,” Conn said, stepping toward her. “A man. Ben Blake. Heard of him?”
The woman frowned. “Ben Blake… sounds familiar, but of course, a lot of names sound familiar when you run a place like this.”
She offered an unconvincing smile that Conn didn’t bother to return. He understood from her response that she would not help him. In fact, she might try to mislead him.
“You’re Beulah?”
“Yes, sir. This is my place.”
“Beulah, I need you to tell me the truth. I know Ben Blake was staying here, and I know the two of you were sweet on each other.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she couldn’t seem to think of anything to say.
“Furthermore, I know he came here and rode back out this morning. You need to tell me where he went.”
Beulah took a step backward. “Well, I wouldn’t know. He didn’t tell me nothing.”
“So you do know him,” Conn said.
“Yeah, I know him a little. Is that a crime?”
“No, but obstructing justice is a crime.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you an officer of the law?”
“I am not,” Conn said, feeling irritated at this woman, who clearly wasn’t willing to help them. “I am the avenger of blood.”
“The… what?”
“Blake killed his brother,” Sheffield said. “Beulah, you’d better help this man. Whatever Blake was to you, he’s a murderer now. Cut him loose and tell us what we want to know, or word will get around, and you’ll be ruined.”
Beulah blinked at them for a long moment, clearly struggling.
“Where was he heading?” Conn asked.
