even more ruddy. “Very well. After I return from my trip, we’ll finish this business.”
She nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. The loss of income would severely hamper her ability to operate the stage stand, but a bank loan would help a great deal.
The older man exhaled loudly. “I’ll stop on my way out and report this to Sheriff Farrell.”
“I’m planning to do that, too,” Ivy said.
“No sense in both of us going.” His gaze narrowed. “Tell Farrell I’ll stop by when I return.”
“I will. And again, I’m sorry, Mayor.”
He nodded, pulling out a gold pocket watch and checking the time.
Ivy took the hint and left with Gideon. As they made their way back into town, she blew out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“Did it go the way you expected?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Irritation flared at the mayor’s condescending attitude. “I don’t expect special treatment, but this is the first problem to arise in the five years since the contract began. You’d think he might take that into account.”
“Not big on second chances, is he?” Gideon’s voice hardened.
“No, although I guess he can afford to be less than forgiving.”
At Gideon’s questioning look, she explained. “Besides the lumber company, he owns a stake in a couple of other businesses and the bank. I need to stop there, too.”
“Since your contract with the mayor is likely ended, could you strike a deal with the stage company on your own?”
“Yes, I could.” Smiling, she stopped abruptly in front of the livery’s open doorway. “I should’ve thought of it myself. Thank you, Mr. Black.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmured.
They continued walking and Ivy halted at the next building, a pine structure with two wide steps leading up to its landing. A sign over the door read Jail, Paladin, Indian Territory.
“I need to have a word with Sheriff Farrell.”
“I’ll wait for you out here. No hurry.”
Ah, yes, he probably had an aversion to cell bars. As she turned to go in, he said, “Miss Ivy?”
The low, deep way he spoke her name sent a shiver through her. Intent on trying to dismiss the sensation, she almost didn’t hear his question.
“Is the sheriff someone you trust?”
“Yes, why?” She shifted to face him. Even though she stood on the second step, she still had to tilt her head back a bit to meet his gaze.
He rested a hand on the wooden stair railing. “If you haven’t told him everything that’s going on at your farm, you should. Especially now that two of your animals have been killed.”
She agreed. “Josh knows some of it, and I’ll tell him the rest. Did you check the woods this morning?”
“Yes. The branch was unbroken. Didn’t look as if it had been touched at all.”
“Good.” She opened the door. “I’ll only be a moment.”
She returned shortly. “Josh is out at a nearby ranch handling a dispute. I left a message for him to come out to the farm if I don’t stop back by today.”
Deputy McCain, who was watching the jail in the sheriff’s absence, had asked about Ivy’s “young man.” Conrad could never be accused of keeping his mouth shut.
Pausing on the bottom step, she glanced across the street at the bank. “I was planning to see Mr. Rowland at the bank next, but I think I’ll send a wire to the stage line manager in Boggy Depot first. Butterfield Overland no longer uses our line for their mail, but Territorial Stage Company keeps a regular schedule for passengers. There are quite a few stage stops just like mine across the Choctaw lands. Maybe I’ll hear right back and perhaps have a new contract.”
Gideon’s attention moved to the imposing redbrick building.
“You don’t have to go with me to the bank if you’d rather visit the mercantile or somewhere else,” Ivy said.
“I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”
For a moment, she’d almost forgotten he was here to protect her. “All right.”
Since the telegraph office sat next door to the jail, they were shortly inside. In the morning sunlight, her brother’s friend cast a tall, intimidating shadow. As Ivy’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Gideon made a low noise in his throat.
She followed his gaze. The counters and floor were covered with scraps of brown paper and newspaper. Except for the small patch on the desk where the telegraph machine sat, envelopes and letters covered every inch of the surface. No wonder she hadn’t received Smith’s wire. It might never be found in this chaos.
Elmer Wright stood in the far corner, pawing through a box. Full of more letters and telegrams!
The barrel-shaped man squinted through the haze of light and dust. “What can I do for you, Miss Ivy?”
“I’d like to send a telegram to the stage line manager in Boggy Depot, and I’m also looking for a recent wire from my brother.”
The older man hobbled around a desk and came toward her. “Who’s your young man?”
Why did everyone assume she and Gideon were a couple? “He’s not my— This is Gideon Black, a friend of my brother’s.”
Gideon shook the man’s hand as she studied the cluttered space. “It looks as if you might have trouble locating the message from Smith.”
“No, no.” Elmer shoved a hand through his thick gray-streaked hair, making it stand on end. He looked around helplessly. “It just might take me a while. I can’t seem to find my spectacles.”
“These spectacles?” Smiling, Ivy picked up a pair of glasses in plain view on the counter.
Giving her a sheepish look, he slid the glasses on and began digging through the clutter on the counter. He thumbed through a stack of correspondence, muttering.
Gideon stood quietly by, but Ivy moved about impatiently. “You should get some help in here, Elmer.”
“Yes, yes. The sheriff’s brother starts today after his schoolin’.”
“That’s good.” Fifteen-year-old Coy Farrell was dependable and smart. And surely more organized than this.
“Aha, here it is.” The older man smiled triumphantly and handed her the telegram.
It was indeed from Smith, and a quick glance confirmed everything Gideon had said upon his arrival. Though having the message in hand didn’t much matter now that her brother’s friend
