Chapter Five
Carlyle set to finish dressing. Marie-Rose steered Tully to the door, and gave Carlyle a look as she passed him. The curtain still fluttered in the open window. He returned her look, his green eyes looking evenly into her gray, and said he'd be down in a moment. By way of what exit, she wondered, and she led Tully downstairs.
She found Sheriff Buell waiting along with deputy Randall. Lisabet was telling her tale again. The saloon was vacant of custom, and Marie-Rose couldn't say she was surprised.
Tully was down the stairs three at a time. "You going to go after them, Sheriff?"
"Not sure I can, boy. Got other troubles, more than a case of disturbing the peace." He nodded an apology to Lisabet, who twitched an unsurprised eyebrow. "You say they were Belrose men, Miss Lisabet?"
"Wouldn't Bible swear, but yeah, I think so."
"Which way did you say they rode out?"
"North out of town, Sheriff," Marie-Rose answered.
"Peculiar." The Belrose ranch was east and south of Gilead.
Buell tugged his moustache. "Eldin, you best get back to the office. Be along presently. Tully." The deputy touched his hat toward the ladies and departed.
Marie-Rose followed Randall out front while the Sheriff spoke to Tully. A couple of men were loading up a pair of wagons by the Crystal Springs at the other end of town. The storm clouds were a wall of dark now, coming fast and cold from the north. Relief from the dreadful heat was going to be a short-lived pleasure when the cold night storm rolled over them. Wherever those folk were heading, they'd best unroll the tarp.
"Eldin Randall, what is going on,?"
"Don't you fret now, Miss Rose. Sheriff's got it all in hand." She smiled back at him, wanting to grab and shake him. Think I can't handle it with the bark on, boy? She was obliged at least for his attempt at reassurance as his eyes darted around the street and fingered his gun belt.
"So just get back to my sewing?" She hadn't intended that much rasp in her voice.
"Now don't go at me like that, Miss Rose, it's—"
"Here's Mister Carlyle, Sheriff!"
She turned back toward the saloon at the sound of Tully's voice. Randall forgotten, she stepped back inside. Coming down the stairs was Carlyle, in his full kit, guns and tomahawk, cap in hand. He looked at her, she looked at him. Well, well, she thought.
Carlyle came to stand by Tully. Tully grinned up at him.
"He jumped from the upstairs window, Sheriff, it was somethin' to see."
And he didn't jump out of it again just now, she thought.
Buell looked Carlyle over. "I hear tell we're in your debt for—"
Carlyle flicked his eyes to the towhead just in front of him.
"—helping out Tully here with a rescue."
"Just happened to be handy."
"Thankful of that. Miss Rose, you acquainted with this gentleman?"
"Newly arrived, Sheriff, but I've a decent opinion on short association." She spoke true, but Buell, who knew her mind, would hear some qualification in what she said.
Carlyle thanked her with a bare nod.
"Well, then. Miss Rose is an admirable judge of character, so if she speaks for you, I'll allow as you're on good standing." The Sheriff's voice was polite, but his eyes held admonition. Carlyle acknowledged his look with a measured look of his own and nodded.
Buell nodded in return. "I need to borrow O'Malley, Miss Rose, to mind the jailhouse if you would so oblige me. Need Randall to ride the fence, see if those coyotes circle back or come upon someone else and make more trouble."
"Where are you going to be?"
"I'm out to see Niles Lindqvist. He's been telling some mighty strange tales about what he saw on the road to Alexandria yesterday."
"Telling tales? Lindqvist? As in more than five words strung together?"
"Yeah. Worrisome. Sol and Louisa Lancaster have come into town. They're over at Doc Abernathy's."
"You riding out alone?"
"Yep."
"Where's Morgan? Johansen?"
"Mister Morgan has packed up. Seems a lot of folk have." Buell's voice was controlled, but grim.
"Are you telling me the town is empty of decent menfolk?" She felt a knot in her stomach. She wasn't going to bring up the Pinkerton fellow, him still a cipher.
Tully spoke up. "I'll go, Sheriff. I can—"
Marie-Rose spoke up sharp. "I need you here, Tully—"
"Mister O'Malley and Mister Carl—"
"Best you stay here," the Sheriff said, and Tully made to interrupt further, but Carlyle cleared his throat and cut them all off.
"You need back-up, Sheriff?"
Everyone turned to look at Carlyle. Sheriff Buell gave Carlyle the up and down: rangy and half-wild, scuffed boots and weatherworn buckskin coat, six-guns on hips, tomahawk across the back. Looked a bit surprised himself, but was steady on his feet, had fire in his eyes.
"You can handle those?" Buell was looking at the eyes, not the guns.
"I can."
The two men measured each other in that way, and then Carlyle turned to Tully. "The Sheriff was being polite, Tully, but I'm thinking he can't leave the women here with a stranger. Sheriff is shorthanded, we all have to do our part."
"You ain't a stranger—"
"To everyone else. You know the town, I don't, sport, and the people know you."
Tully looked at him, searching Carlyle's face for pretense, but Carlyle met his eyes straight and true.
"I'll be on the lookout for lost brothers, too."
At that, Tully nodded. Buell had no more expression than a Pawnee in a poker game, but she thought he might well be favorably disposed. Carlyle pulled on his battered army cap, and nodded to Marie-Rose as he passed.
"We'll keep your bathwater warm, Mister Carlyle." She was plumb surprised him offering himself up like that, she had thought it more likely he'd want distance between himself and lawmen. Though maybe he had got wind of the Pinkerton man was on his trail, which may or may not be the case but she was suspicious that it was, and so he was befriending who he could.
"Thank you kindly, Miss Rose."
"Come back to us in one piece, Sheriff. You, too, Mister Carlyle." She put a hand on his arm as he passed her.
He smiled nice at her hand, not the sassy one, but a genuine smile as he tugged his cap to her and moved out. She hadn't decided if this Mister Carlyle was a Knight or a Knave, though it would assuredly be wands or coins; fire and earth he was, that much was plain. It came to her mind that she had not laid a card down for the stranger Cartwright. It tasked her to be unsure of anyone, good or ill.
To her surprise, Carlyle stepped back in. He poked the handle end of the tomahawk to Tully.
"Keep an eye on this for me, Tonto." And out he went.
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