Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss(38)

“Take it that’s why things ended badly?”

Hunter stared across the street at The Klein Hotel. “I did what I had to. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done.”

“You think she’s in danger now that she’s back?”

“I don’t know. Yucton seems to think so. He won’t say as much, but I think that’s why he came back. He mentioned something called the Syndicate.”

“That mean anything to you?”

“Sort of. It was one of the last things Sheriff McLaren said to me when he lay dying. I’ve tried every which way to Sunday to find information on them, but I keep hitting a brick wall. I’m sure it’s somehow tied to the private bounty Kincaid collected on when he brought Yucton in. Now he tells me Yucton is paying him to stay in Salvation Falls.”

“Why?”

Hunter’s frustration mounted and he tossed what was left in his coffee cup over the porch rail. Caleb’s horse snorted at him, though the contents had fallen several feet short of where the horse stood hitched to the pole. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Caleb shook his head and let his gaze wander toward the mountains. “Any way to figure out who this Syndicate is?”

Hunter shrugged. “Nearly everyone who was involved in the rustling is dead, save for Yucton and Vernon. Depending on how Yucton’s trial goes when the judge finally gets off his backside and shows up, he could be the next to go.” Leaving only Vernon. His stomach recoiled at the thought of his father being involved in any of this. He was supposed to have been the victim of the crime. Was it possible Kincaid was right, and he wasn’t looking hard enough? Hunter shied away from that line of thinking, at least until he had more information.

Caleb stood and handed Hunter his empty mug before stretching his arms out and taking in a deep breath of mountain air. “Rachel mentioned Yucton spent some time working the ranch back in her pa’s day.”

Hunter nodded. “McLaren said he had questioned Foster and a few of the other men but came up empty. I’d like to take another crack at it.” Foster had been a fixture on the Circle S Ranch for as long as anyone could remember. He had started as a ranch hand before Hunter was born and when he became too old for the rigors of the position, he’d taken up manning the chuck wagon. Hunter hoped the old man’s memory hadn’t faded with time and age. If he’d worked with Yucton, maybe he’d recollect something he hadn’t thought to mention to McLaren all those years ago. It was worth a shot.

Caleb readjusted his hat, the merest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess we’ll be seeing you after church on Sunday.”

“I’ll be there,” Hunter said. He had no choice but to escort Meredith out to the Circle S. He couldn’t let her ride out without his protection and he needed to speak with Foster. Likely the old coot had nothing of value to help him, but he was willing to grab whatever thin thread he could find.

“Good.” Caleb stepped down off the porch and undid Jasper’s reins from the hitching post. “Maybe you can spend the ride out filling Miss Connolly in on what’s going on. Trust me when I tell you, women don’t like being kept in the dark. There’ll be hell to pay if you try.”

The idea curdled in his gut. He preferred to keep Meredith out of it, but if she started digging into things to clear her father’s name she could find herself up to her elbows in it. He needed to convince her to let him take the lead on this and keep her own nose clear.

She wouldn’t like it, of course, but there was no other option. He’d promised her father he would keep her safe, and he meant to honor that promise whether she liked it or not.



Meredith fidgeted with the tiny buttons lining the front of her cream-colored cape and hesitated on the church steps. She scanned the crowd of people that had filtered out at the end of the service and now mingled in front of the church in small clusters. She had been nervous about coming, but did so anyway. She needed to integrate herself back into the town and show the women of Salvation Falls her talents. Maybe they could then convince their husbands to sway the vote in her favor. It was a long shot, but she had to take it.

She’d worn one of her favorite outfits to the service, one she’d designed herself. The upper portion was a rich navy-and-gold pattern, the skirt a soft sage green with a fringed trim midway that swept across her thighs where the material hugged against her. From behind, the navy and gold flowed down from the bustle. The color flattered her ivory complexion and set off the blue in her eyes. She had received numerous compliments on it and made certain to let them know she hoped to soon open her own business.