maudlin sentimentality, he owed his friend. As his commanding officer, he owed Noah the life he should have had before the war had ravaged more than just his body. The battles might be over, but loyalty among soldiers never faltered. There was a woman worthy of Noah; a woman who’d see past the scars. Was it so unlikely that the bride they’d sent for might be that woman?
Noah motioned Will inside. “You won’t believe what I discovered on my way to the feed and grain this morning.”
Whatever Noah had discovered must be exceedingly unusual for him to linger in town. Will followed his friend through the building, and they paused in front of the jail cell.
A feverish man writhed on the single cot, a dirty bandage wrapped around his head. His clothing was damp with sweat, his face ashen. Doc Fletcher had taken a seat beside the prone man, a deep crease between his eyes.
Will started. “Is that Zeb Murdoch?”
“I reckon so.”
A few weeks back Zeb Murdoch had been winged in the ear by one of the Cowboy Creek deputies after he and his gang had robbed the church. The gang had subsequently made their way to Morgan’s Creek, where they’d stolen horses and robbed a saloon. One of the witnesses had identified Zeb Murdoch and noted his injury.
The wound had obviously gone septic. The skin visible beneath Zeb’s scraggly beard was pale and waxy. Dark blood matted his greasy blond hair, while his painfully thin frame bordered on gaunt.
The doc leaned over the outlaw and gingerly lifted the edge of the bandage, grimacing at the oozing wound. “He’ll live, but he’ll wake up with one less ear.”
Though Will had seen plenty of lacerations in his lifetime, the angry infection had him wincing. He asked Noah once more. “Where did you find him?”
“He was propped up behind the laundry on Fourth Street. Wolf sniffed him out.”
Noah’s dog was part wolf and, though intimidating, the animal was an excellent tracker and fiercely loyal.
“How long was he there?” Will asked.
“Since yesterday, I’m guessing. He didn’t have his horse, and there were two canteens of water set out. Like someone left him there.” Noah doffed his hat and threaded his fingers through blond hair that nearly touched his collar. “I heard from the deputy that you had some trouble at the stockyards, as well. Anyone hurt?”
“Someone riled up a bull and set it loose. No serious injuries. Cuts and bruises from when the crowd panicked and ran. A sprained ankle. Owen O’Neill fell down and took a boot to the head, but he was only grazed. Last I saw him, he was having pie at the Cowboy Café.” Will paced in front of the jail cell. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The Murdoch Gang left Zeb behind the laundry about the same time that bull cut loose in the ring.”
“The timing works out,” Noah agreed, replacing his hat and running his thumb and forefinger over the brim. “He didn’t get here by himself. Not in his condition.”
The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. “Which means the Murdoch Gang created a diversion and dumped him.”
Remorse socked Will in the chest. He’d accused Tomasina of having an enemy, and she was innocent. He already owed her one apology. Now he owed her a couple of them.
“Why go to all that trouble?” Noah mused. “Why didn’t they shoot him or leave him for dead?”
“Who knows? Family loyalty. Honor among thieves. Seems like Xavier wants his brother healed.”
“But why travel forty miles south with a sick man? Why not leave him in Morgan’s Creek?”
“The sawbones in Morgan’s Creek died last fall. If they were riding south anyway, and Zeb took a turn for the worse, Cowboy Creek is the logical choice.”
“Good point.” Noah braced his forearm on the bars and studied the outlaw. “Zeb gets shot during the holdup at the church. The gang robs Morgan’s Creek, but Zeb’s wound turns septic.”
“There’s no doctor in Morgan’s Creek,” Will said. “Xavier can’t kill his own brother. Can’t leave him for dead, either.”
“Instead they create a diversion and dump him in Cowboy Creek. They’ve been here before. They know the town. They know we have a doctor.”
Will crossed his arms. “What now? If Xavier risked his life saving his brother, he won’t let us hang him.”
“Which means he’s sticking close.”
“Bad news for Cowboy Creek. If the gang is in the area, they’re bound to be a nuisance.”
“Not necessarily.” Noah pushed off from the bars. “They’d be fools to stir up trouble. Not with Zeb in our jail cell. I’m guessing they’ll lay low for a while, let things cool off and wait for Zeb to heal. That’s when we worry.”
“We’d best double our guards anyway. The Murdoch Gang will need supplies. And they can’t exactly waltz into Longhorn’s and buy grain for their horses.” Zeb groaned and Will studied the sick man. “Let’s hold them off as long as we can. If anyone asks, Zeb is near dying. That’s not far from the truth.”
“What if we spread the rumor he’s already dead?”
“Too risky. We can’t chance pushing the Murdochs to retaliate.”
“Too bad,” Noah said. “One less Murdoch is one less problem. You’re right about Xavier, though. He went to a lot of trouble to save his brother. He’s not going to let him hang.”
Will slanted a glance at the outlaw. “Which means they’ll be back to bust him out.”
“We better be ready when that happens.”
“Don’t worry.” Will spoke with grim determination. “We’ll be ready.”
By the time he’d finished at the jail, Tomasina was nowhere to be found. According to Theo, one of the drovers, she was tracking strays along a creek bed. There’d be no apology today. He’d seek out Tomasina tomorrow. And that meant he’d be carrying another burden for a spell.
The day stretched out ahead of him, bleak and lonely.
Lonely.
He was accustomed to solitude. An only child, he’d grown up without the constant patter of siblings. In the army, his rank had kept him isolated. He valued his privacy. He should be relieved the preacher’s daughter had taken Ava for the afternoon. He could catch up on his work. Yet the thought of spending the day alone left him oddly empty. The feeling itched like wet wool beneath his collar.
Any chance at peace was a long time coming for him.
* * *
Tomasina’s first step was to find James Johnson. A fellow named Butch directed her toward the saloon. Inside, she spotted James’s distinctive fringed vest. He’d had the back beaded in the shape of Texas, and leather fringe dangled from the hem. She thought the vest atrocious, but James had bragged about the ladies admiring his style. She snorted softly. When it came to a handsome face, sometimes ladies didn’t have the sense of a peahen.
Unheeding of the curious stares, she stomped across the saloon, planted a hand on James’s shoulder and spun him around.
His scowl lasted an instant before he masked his temper with a cool grin. “I thought you didn’t like saloons.”
“I don’t. But you and I need to talk.”
He turned his back on her and lifted his drink. “I got nothing to say to you.”
Tomasina planted her boot on the brass foot rail and leaned close. “Pa is dead and you’ve got nothing to say? I thought he meant something to you.”
James’s hand stilled midair, then his drink hit the bar with a thud, splashing his whiskey. “What happened?”
“He