Arlen shook his hand. “Former lawman. I’ve left that behind for ranching. I’m out at the Cummings ranch, south of town.”
“So I’ve heard,” the sheriff said. “They’re good people.” He paused. “You the one who’s marrying Mrs. Gresham?”
Arlen could almost imagine Josie’s response to such a question, and it made him smile for a second. “Perhaps. If I can convince her.”
Sheriff Darcy tapped his fingers on the desk. “You’re a brave man, trying to persuade her.”
“I’ll take trying to entice a woman like her to marry me any day over dodging bullets again,” Arlen replied.
Sheriff Darcy nodded, as if he knew too well about what Arlen was speaking. “What can I do for you today?”
Arlen glanced down at the man’s desk, which held neat stacks of paper, a pen and inkwell, and a half-written letter. Pulling his thoughts together, he looked up again. “There’s a fellow new in town by the name of Tim Finnegan. He’s got some business partners in town with him, apparently. He’s after the Cummings ranch, offered to buy it both from me and from George Cummings. A bit relentless.”
“Finnegan . . .” Sheriff Darcy leaned a hand on his desk as he thought. “Short fellow? Nicely dressed?”
“That’s the one. He was friendly enough at first, if a bit unrelenting. But he as good as threatened us yesterday, saying it would be in our best interest to sell and that the man he worked for would be none too happy at Cummings’ refusal.”
Darcy worked his jaw, and Arlen could tell he took threats against anyone in his territory personally. It was a little detail, but one that Arlen had found made all the difference between a good lawman and an indifferent one. He was happy to see that Darcy fell on the good side.
“Want me to talk to him?” the sheriff asked. “I can not-so-subtly hint it’s time for him to move on.”
“I’m hoping he’ll do that on his own, but I’m more curious about who he’s working for. And who those business partners of his are,” Arlen replied. “If there’s something bigger at work behind him, we need to know that.”
Darcy nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He shook the man’s hand again and left the building. Outside, the midday sun streamed down, warming the town. Arlen loosened his collar before heading back toward the middle of town. He figured there was one more place he could stop—the Landrys’ post and telegraph office. If any messages had come in or out of town for Finnegan or his men, the Landrys would know. In fact, they might even have the names of the men Finnegan was with.
“Thomas!” Beau Landry’s friendly, accented voice greeted Arlen the moment he walked in the door. “How are you? Get that girl to agree to marry you yet?”
“Beau!” his wife regarded him with shocked eyes. She placed a hand on her hip. “I’m certain they’ll tell us if it happens.”
“It doesn’t hurt to ask,cher,” Landry said to her, an amused expression on his face.
Arlen had the distinct impression the two had this sort of conversation often. Landry was outspoken and gregarious, while Mrs. Landry was friendly—and could certainly be direct—but generally much more attuned to what was considered polite.
“I have not. Not yet, anyhow,” Arlen said with a grin. “Landry, you remember that man who took me away from our meal?”
Landry nodded, exiting from behind the counter to join Arlen in the combined office/parlor space. “I do. He’s been in here once or twice since then to collect mail.”
Arlen perked up. “Oh? What sort of mail?”
Landry shrugged. “Letters, I suppose.”
“They came from Wyoming Territory,” Mrs. Landry supplied, from where she still stood behind the counter, a pen in hand.
Wyoming. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. The territory was large, and it was just to the west of this corner of Nebraska. Still, the knowledge made Arlen’s concern rise.
“Other than that, we don’t know much about them,” Mrs. Landry went on. “I’m sure you appreciate that we don’t open folks’ mail.”
“Of course,” Arlen said quickly. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any of his associates come in here?”
Landry tucked his hands into his trousers pockets. “Yes, I believe we have.” He turned to his wife. “Remember those two men?”
“Yes, they skulked in the background and never said a word,” Mrs. Landry replied.
“Do you remember what they looked like?” Arlen asked.
