“I wouldn’t ever forget the one,” Mrs. Landry said. “He looked as if he’d survived a fire. One side of his face was badly scarred. The other one . . .” She looked to her husband.
But Arlen needed no other description. He’d met a man with those looks once before. Back in the Territory, at that ranch outside of town, after he’d been shot. They’d finally succeeded in convincing the squatters to leave—a smart decision considering Arlen had twice their number on his side. That man—the one with the burned face—had been the first to emerge from the ranch house.
“Thank you,” he said to his new friends. “That helps me.” He bade them goodbye and moved quickly back toward the sheriff’s office. With Darcy’s help, he could either find out for certain if these men were who he thought they might be—or put his fears to rest.
But as he walked, the worry grew. Had he brought this trouble here with him from Wyoming? It was as if he couldn’t shake his past life. Even relocating far away, it had followed him. And now it lurked on the fringes, ready to destroy everything he was beginning to build here.
Arlen paused in front of what appeared to be a newly-opened theater. What made him think he could be so fortunate as to leave his old life completely behind? To be a regular man, a rancher, a husband. He’d made far too many enemies during his years as sheriff. What did he think—that all those men would simply forget him and any grudges they held toward him the moment he left office and became a private citizen again?
The noble thing to do would be to leave. Because if he left Last Chance, those men—if they were who he feared they were—would follow him. They’d leave Josie and George and their ranch alone because Arlen was who they were truly after.
If he left now, Josie could live her life as she’d always wanted—free and alone with her ranch intact. The thought felt like a bullet lodged into Arlen’s heart. Was that what she still wanted? He had hoped not, but . . . If he was gone, perhaps she would be content with her old hopes and dreams.
He turned and looked down the road, back toward the livery, where his horse was waiting. It would be easy to go—physically. But he wasn’t certain his heart could survive.
Arlen shook his head. He was being foolish, placing his feelings over Josie’s life and the ranch she loved so much. He had to make a decision.
One foot in front of the other, Arlen walked toward whatever the future might bring.
Chapter Fourteen
Josie drew the shawltighter around herself. The night’s chill had settled in as stars blinked overhead and a crescent moon hung in the sky. She leaned against the porch post, wondering at the time.
Arlen hadn’t returned home. He’d left that morning, according to George, to go into town to find out more about this Finnegan and the men he was with. But that had been hours and hours ago now. The sun had set, she and George had eaten supper, they’d fed the animals, and she’d even swept off the porch in a desperate attempt to assuage her worries.
But he still hadn’t returned.
And all she could think was that one of two things had happened—he’d run into trouble, or he’d decided this was all too much for him and he’d left. Neither was good.
“It’s past midnight,” George said from the door.
Josie chewed on her lip, her eyes still roving the darkened land in front of her. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have come back here.”
“There are a million possibilities. But the most likely is that it’s late and it’s much easier for him to sleep on the Landrys’ settee than it is to ride back here in the dark.” George held the door open, waiting for Josie.
“What if he’s run into trouble?” She whispered the words into the night, giving life to her fear.
