Barrett frowned as Nash read over the telegraph report. "How many women?"
Nash looked back down at the report. "Fifteen in total. There were three wagons carrying five women apiece."
"No men?"
"Just the drivers. The women were unmarried. Sounds like the drivers were all killed."
Barrett frowned and rubbed his shoulder, then caught Nash looking and stopped. He hid his hand under his desk, flexing his fingers. They were stiff and tingled like they'd been asleep for the past hour, even though he'd been keeping them in steady motion as best he could.
He drew in a breath. "Does it give their names?"
"No. There were too many to list, I think."
"And Sheriff Boone is sure they were struck down by bandits?"
Nash nodded. "Says he picked two of them up off the side of the road. They were injured. One of them might even lose a toe."
"A toe?"
"Seems the woman who shot him got his kneecap and his foot. His pinky toe's just dangling there now. Like on a thread."
"Boone sent that in his report?"
Nash nodded and shrugged. "Every detail helps, I suppose."
Barrett thought Boone just liked trying to make him gag.
"The two men confessed to everything," Nash continued.
"They mention anything else?"
"Yeah. The Huckleberry Gang."
"The Huckleberry Gang?" Barrett laughed. Now he'd heard everything. "You're telling me that a woman took out one of the most notorious gangs in the West? All on her own?"
Nash paused. "It's possible."
Barrett laughed harder. "If a woman did all that, I'll eat my hat."
Nash was looking at him with an intensity Barrett didn't like. It made him uncomfortable. "Do you think she was one of the women?"
Barrett frowned. "She?"
"You know who I mean."
Barrett shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. It would explain why she's late. She was supposed to be here two days ago." He shrugged again, and his shoulder cried out in protest. "More 'n likely she just changed her mind and went home. If she ever even left to begin with."
He flexed his fingers again and felt some of the feeling return. Thank the Dear Lord.
"I'm sure she left," said Nash. "A woman like that doesn't accept an offer like yours then change her mind."
"I don't know what a woman like her does. I don't even know her."
"You knew enough to propose."
"I didn't propose, Nash. I placed an ad. Lots of women responded. I could've pulled her name out of a hat for all I cared."
"That's a funny way to talk about the woman you're supposed to marry. I thought you said you wanted to settle down. Start a family. Don't you care who the mother of your children is?"
Barrett sighed. "Sure, I do."
If he'd actually had any intention of starting a family, he'd have cared very much. It was easier to let Nash think that was his reason for marrying rather than tell him the truth. His fingers started tingling again, and he thought about having a shot of whiskey, but if he started down that road, he might never get out of it. It was too easy to cover pain that way. He'd rather grin and bear it as long as possible.
"What do you want to do?" asked Nash.
Barrett leaned back in his chair. "What would you do?" he asked, surprising his deputy.
"Me? I don't know. I'm not the sheriff."
"Yeah, but you want to be one day, don't you?"
"Sure, I guess."
"You're the best deputy I've got. If something were to happen to me, you need to know how to handle these things."
"What's gonna happen to you?" asked Nash suspiciously.
Barrett paused. "Nothin'. Just tell me, what would you do in this situation if you were me?"
Nash ran a hand through his hair. "Well, seems to me I'd go out looking for them. The women, that is."
Barrett nodded. "Why you? Why not Boone or one of the other sheriffs in one of the other towns?"
"Those guys Boone picked up outside Giant's Point said the women who escaped were headed in our direction. We're the next closest town to the California Trail, after them, so that means it's our responsibility to track 'em down."
"Good," said Barrett and rolled his shoulder in its socket, hoping it seemed a casual thing and not a desperate attempt to loosen his muscle before it spasmed.
Nash sat down on the edge of Barrett's desk, looking around as if checking to make sure the other deputies weren't nearby. "You're not thinking of retiring, are you? Once your family gets started?"
"No," said Barrett. "Not if I can help it."
He could tell from the look on Nash's face that answer did not entirely satisfy him, but he knew better than to say anything about it. Barrett had become increasingly moody of late, and no one wanted to ask him things that might set him off. The list of things that might do so continued to grow every day, and he knew Nash and his other deputies added to it with each new discovery.
Last he'd heard, the list now included his sister, his arm, his mail order bride, and anything to do with the outbreak of fires happening in every nearby town—every town except theirs. Though Barrett had to talk about that with his deputies even if he wished he could forget it.
"Boone say anything about that fire last week?" he asked.
Nash shook his head and went back to his own desk, much to Barrett's relief. "No, it was all about the missing women and the Huckleberry Gang." He flopped into his chair. "You think there's gonna be more fires?"
"Seems likely," said Barrett. "We've got a firebug on our hands. Those types don't give up easily."
"Or a zealot," Nash said.
Barrett looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"It's always the same sort of stuff catching fire, isn't it? Saloons and brothels. Maybe someone who hates those types of things wants them all destroyed, and they want it badly enough to kill whoever gets in their way."
Barrett pressed his lips together, pleased with Nash's assessment of things, though not with what it meant in terms of what they were facing.
"Think you can hold things down here for a few days?" Barrett asked.
"Sure. Where're you goin'?
"I'll head east along the trail first, then veer north toward Bittermourn, see what I can find. Might be the women stumbled on the place when they were trying to make their escape."
"Bittermourn? If they found it, they won't stay for long. Goin' it alone?"
"Always." He set his hat firmly on his head and double-checked his gun. "Make sure and let Roscoe out in another couple days if I'm not back yet. I think he's cooled down by now."
"Will do. And, Sheriff? Careful out there. You know what they say about Bittermourn. Don't let the ghosts get you." Nash chuckled lightly and turned back to the telegraph machine.
* * *
YOU ARE READING
Mail Order Bride: The Gunslinging Bride (#1, Western Reach Western Romance)
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