They walked on in silence, while in the background he could hear the band tuning up. He didn’t want to get too far away since Ellie had already commented about looking forward to hearing the band play. “Maybe we should head back.”
“I suppose so. Thank you for not trying to push me into getting ... well ... saved. Mrs. Ashbury is enthusiastic about it. She was determined I should make everything right over breakfast, but I explained that I wanted to speak to Father about it first.”
“Are you afraid he’ll be angry?”
“Angry? No.” She glanced at the ground and shook her head. “The fact is, with all that seems to be changing in our relationship, I don’t know if he will even care. On the other hand, I want him to accept God as well. We’ve both been so lost since Mother died. She was the center of everything in our family, and when she died, it was as if we died as well. Coming to Montana, I saw a spark of life in Father that I’ve not seen since she passed. I think Montana has changed us both.”
Carter chuckled. “It has a way of doing that.”
Grant fidgeted as he waited with the horses. Him and Alvin had eaten lunch with the other men in Alvin’s posse, sticking mostly to themselves away from the crowd. Alvin said there was no reason to miss out on the best feast of the year, so they would wait to take Hill until after lunch.Somehow Alvin had learned that Hill intended to board his private train car that afternoon to head back to Columbia Falls and then onto the new tracks that would head toward Whitefish.
Alvin gave his gang a grin. “We’ll take him before he leaves Kalispell.”
After lunch Alvin and the others started shadowing Louis Hill, while Grant made his way to collect the horses. He was to take them to the rail yards. Alvin figgered with everyone at the celebration, this would be the perfect place to head out.
Grant had tried one final time to convince Alvin it wouldn’t work—that James Hill had dealt with tougher men than Alvin’s gang. His brother hadn’t cared. He was convinced this would change everything.
Grant didn’t believe it. Hill’s family would hire guards—maybe even get the Pinkertons looking for the men who took his son. Grant should have left when Alvin first started talking about this scheme. But Grant promised their mother he’d look out for Alvin.
Of course, lately Alvin seemed tougher than Grant. And meaner. He’d never have any trouble taking care of himse—
Grant stiffened. What was that sound? He shushed the mounts and moved them into the shadows between two buildings.
Ah. Alvin and his men. They came toward him ... and Alvin had a man over his shoulder. The man’s head was covered in a hood.
Alvin’s grin was triumphant. “We got him at the depot. Come take him while I mount my horse.”
The others beat a quick path to take their reins fromGrant. He went to Alvin, who maneuvered Hill onto Grant’s shoulder, then snatched his reins and jumped into the saddle.
“Hand him up. Face down in front of me.”
Grant followed Alvin’s instructions and settled Hill on Alvin’s lap. The man didn’t move. Must be unconscious. At least ...
That’s what Grant was hoping.
Alvin took up his reins. “We’ll head up to the cabin and get him tied up, then the boys will come back to town. Come to the cabin when you have Hill’s answer. Don’t delay.”
“I won’t.” Delay? He wanted this over as fast as possible.
“We left a note in the pocket of the man Hill was talking to. Knocked ’em both out at the same time.” He chuckled. “It was like we’d practiced it. They dropped like flies.”
“You didn’t kill either one of them, did you?” Grant studied his brother’s face.
“Not hardly. Now go send the telegram.” Alvin straightened in the saddle. “That note won’t be enough. The mayor might not think to send a telegram to the old man.”
What choice did he have? “I’ll go right now.”
“Oh, and Grant ... don’t be the reason this doesn’t work.” Alvin fixed him with a cold, dead expression.
Had he ever really known his little brother? This man seemed an utter stranger. And a threatening one at that.
“I won’t.”
They slipped off through the rail yards. They would clear the tracks and buildings and then head north and east toward the river.
Grant shoved his hands in his pockets. Not that there wasn’t plenty yet to worry about. Someone might have seenthem. Someone might already have found whoever it was Hill was with. Even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t take long before someone missed them.
He hurried to the telegraph office and managed to get inside. No one had even bothered to lock up. He sent the message—a very lengthy one—to James Hill, St. Paul, Minnesota.
