A millstone weighted her shoulders and chest as she sat cross-legged on the floor and examined the case. She pressed against the exterior, feeling every side. No odd-shaped objects or bottles as far as she could tell. It felt more like books, but could the width of the books hide a smaller object?
The latch was unlocked, but whatever was in here was private, not meant for her eyes. Otherwise, why would he have hidden it under his mattress?
She should put it back where she’d found it and get out of there. But wouldn’t this be the perfect place to conceal a small bottle if he had one on the premises? Instead of snooping, she should confront Ben when he returned. But could she risk her future on the chance he’d not be honest? She buried her face in her hands.
Feeling lower than the dirt on the sole of her shoe, she opened the flap and slid the contents onto her lap. Two notebooks slipped out, their hard covers battered. Age or weather had yellowed and bowed the edges of the pages. Someone had writtenAndersonvilleacross the front of one andAndersonville IIacross the second. Her breath hitched. Ben’s journals or possibly even Jeb’s? No, Ben would have given them to her if they were Jeb’s. Still, they could contain information about her brother.
More importantly, they likely contained Ben’s soul. Not hers to open without an invitation.
She felt around in the case, fingered the edges of the notebooks, then slipped them back into their hiding place.
Ben had spoken little about the prison camp, and he had likely only skimmed the surface of the horrors he and Jeb had suffered. Was it any wonder he’d come back scarred within?
CHAPTER 34
Clean-shaven and hair still damp from his visit to the barbershop, Ben quickstepped past the thin green building near the corner of Main Street in Weatherford. He had no intention of giving temptation a moment to take root. If he hurried, he could make it home in plenty of time to share the good news with Cora before supper. Goodnight had taken forty of the cattle on the trail with him and, in light of the recent catastrophe, agreed to charge a smaller fee than the first time. The experienced rancher and cattleman said that he had even lost a few cattle near that very spot on the Pecos his first time through.
At the corner, he turned right toward the livery stable, the opposite direction of LeBeau’s office. No use looking for trouble. Fielding the barber’s questions about the fight had been enough. Obviously, the whole town had nothing better to do for entertainment than spread gossip about the battle for Miss Cora Scott’s hand.
Ben slowed his stride. There was no battle for Cora’s hand. Cora was his girl. But was that a question to leave open in everyone’s mind for another year or even until winter? Heneeded to find a way to keep his word to his father and yet be free to court Cora with the full intention of proposing.
“Mr. McKenzie.” A voice rang out behind him.
Ben stiffened. His hand fell to his holster flap as he turned. On the frontier, one never knew how far another man might go for revenge.
But it was only Mr. Miller waving a piece of paper at him and hurrying along on the other side of the street. Tension ebbed from Ben’s shoulders. He waited for a mule-driven wagon to pass and then crossed the street in front of a buggy.
Miller caught up to him. “I heard you were in town.” He removed his slouch hat and dabbed his damp forehead with his handkerchief.
“Passing through on my way to the ranch.” Ben tugged on the lapels of his too-warm frock coat. “If I’d known you wanted to see me, I would have stopped by the store. You did receive the payment I left with your clerk before I rode out of town last week, didn’t you?”
“The payment was fine.” Miller smiled. “And I would have understood if you’d taken another month to send it. No hurry.” He held up the paper. “But I wanted to get this to you. The telegram clerk left it with me yesterday. Figured you’d likely stop by the store when you got back to Weatherford.”
Ben frowned at the envelope. Anything that had to be sent in that much of a hurry probably wasn’t good news. “Thank you kindly.” He took the telegram and shook the man’s hand. “I’m just sorry you had to run out of your store to catch me.”
“No trouble.” Miller hooked his thumbs around his suspenders beneath his open coat. “I heard you were at the barber’s, and I fancied it was about time I got myself a shave, only before I got there, I saw you headed up the street here.”
Ben blinked. Did this town keep a running tab on where he was at any given moment when he was in Weatherford? Histhroat tightened, but he managed an uptick in his lips. “Thank you for all of your help. I won’t keep you from your shave.”
Miller tipped his hat. “I’d better hurry off so I can get back before Mrs. Miller has to abandon the storefront to cook supper. I hope your telegram brings good news.”
“Good day, Miller.” Ben pivoted.
“McKenzie?” Miller called behind him.
Ben turned.
“Good luck with the girl. I’m voting for you.” Miller grinned.
Ben half snorted. How did one reply to such a remark? “I’m working on it.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek and hurried off before the man could ask the particulars.
But it was the telegram that worried him. He tapped the paper to his leg as he strode along. He wasn’t about to open it in front of prying eyes. Who knew how many people in this town were aware he’d received a telegram? The booming size of Philadelphia definitely had its advantages when it came to privacy.
Standing against a wall in the back of the livery stable, Ben opened the envelope. Best to read it while he was in town in case he needed to send a reply.
Your father is seriously ill with pneumonia. We do not know if he will survive. Come home immediately.Love, Mother
Air leaked from his lungs as he sank back against the planed wood. His father had always enjoyed good health, except for a couple of bouts with fever. Ben scrubbed his hand over his jaw. He would have to catch the next stage east. Get to Galveston, book a berth on a steamer…
