“My employer requires that Miss Leah Westfall accompany us back to Sacramento.”
Everyone turns to me. You could hear an earthworm in the mud, for how silently they stare.
From behind everyone comes a high, feminine voice. “This employer of yours,” Becky calls out. “His name wouldn’t happen to be Hiram Westfall, would it?” And God bless her soul for asking the question rolling around in my head that I was unable to force out.
“Why, yes, that’s his name, all right. I understand his niece ran away from him back in Georgia. Stole his horse, too.” Dilley grins wide, and it feels like a steel trap closing around me. “It’s comeuppance time, boy,” he says.
My jaw is aching from clenching so hard, and my legs twitch as if to run. I could be on Peony’s back in three minutes and halfway to Oregon before he could spit.
“Lee isn’t going anywhere,” Jefferson says in a dark voice.
“Now wait a minute,” Old Tug says. “This is a good offer. We should consider.” Several of the Buckeyes murmur agreement.
“These are probably the men who set fire to our camp,” says Jasper—just loud enough for the people standing next to him to hear, but it’s enough to stop the murmurs. “Lee’s uncle is a double-crossing snake. You can’t trust any promise he makes.”
“A deal with Mr. Westfall is tantamount to a deal with the devil,” Becky adds loudly.
This time, it’s Reverend Lowrey who jumps in. “As part of the deal, Mr. Westfall also agrees to offer his special protection. You’ll never worry about arson again.”
Major Craven swings forward on his crutch. “Did you do it, Dilley? Did you set fire to our camp on Westfall’s orders? You know we lost the Hoffman boy, right? You’re a murderer, Frank, plain and simple.” He shakes his head. “Remember when you threatened to put me out of my misery? After the buffalo stampede?”
Frank reaches up to pat the shotgun resting in his saddle holster. “The offer still stands, Wally.”
“Well, I suspected you were indecent then, but I’m disappointed, Frank, deeply disappointed, at just how foul a man you are.”
The reverend bristles. “Have you all turned savage?” he says. “Mr. Westfall is offering you safety. Honest pay for honest work.” He shakes his head as if overcome by deep sorrow. “‘For the love of money is the root of all evil—’”
“Oh, quit your sermonizing!” I holler. I’ve had it with thieving, self-righteous pigs. “No one wants to hear Scripture right now, especially from you.”
He straightens in his saddle and opens his mouth to stubborn it out.
“You’re not going to propose to me again, are you, preacher? Because if you do, my ‘no’ might be accompanied by a boot in your face.”
“I think—”
“I think you should be on your way. You’ve said your piece.”
Frank Dilley rubs at his mustache, looking around for support. “You seem like a reasonable man,” he says to Old Tug.
“Reasonable and fine looking,” Old Tug says with a wicked grin. “But I don’t know you from Adam. I do know Widow Joyner, who doesn’t seem to like you much, and neither does my friend Miss Lee, and that’s enough to make me think twice about your offer.”
“Well, don’t think too long,” Dilley says. He places his foot in the stirrup and mounts. “It would be a real shame if a terrible tragedy befalls this place before you can take advantage of Mr. Westfall’s generosity.”
A click echoes in the air as someone cocks a Colt.
Dilley knows it’s time to retreat. “I’ll be back in three days for your answer. Lee, pack up and be ready to travel when I return.”
He clucks to his horse and steers him away. Reverend Lowrey and the rest of the Missouri men follow.
The murmuring starts up as soon as the trees close around their departing backs. No matter what Old Tug said, the Buckeyes are going to consider my uncle’s offer. They’d be crazy not to.
“Do you really think your uncle sent his men to burn down our camp?” Jefferson asks.
“Who else?” Jasper says.
Becky has retrieved the baby and steps up to join us as she pats the tiny thing on the back. “This is California,” she points out. “There’s no shortage of unsavory persons here.”
Old Tug and some of the others are pretending nonchalance, but their ears are pricked like a cat’s. I have to choose my words carefully.
“I guess we don’t have any proof he did it,” I say. “But I know he killed my mama and daddy, and he stole my homestead right out from under my feet. He’s capable of such a thing, for sure and certain.”
The Major rubs at his beard. “I’ve been thinking about that fire,” he says.
Jasper and the college men join our circle. It’s like we’re a regular town council now, with the Buckeyes whispering among themselves but staying close enough to listen.
“We know it was started on purpose,” the Major continues. “Someone knocked out Hampton, while another snuck up on Martin. The fire started in at least two places at once—the feed shed and the cabin. They probably used kerosene. Or maybe even gunpowder. Because something made the fire hot enough to melt gold. And we know that whoever did it was armed, because they shot Jefferson’s dog.”
No new territory here. We already knew it was arson; that’s why we’re all so exhausted from keeping extra watch shifts.
“Where are you going with this?” Jasper asks darkly.
“Why didn’t they just shoot Hampton and Martin? It would have been a lot safer for the arsonists. Wouldn’t have to get close.”
“Maybe it was too dark for shooting,” I offer, remembering the moonless night.
The Major shrugs. “Maybe. But in my experience, there’s only one reason to sneak up on someone right before a battle.”
Jefferson is nodding. “To catch your enemy unaware.”
“Exactly,” the Major says. “Whoever did this didn’t want to risk the sound of a gunshot. They wanted those fires to spread as much as possible.” He pauses. “While we were still sleeping in our beds.”
The world shifts. I’ve never been the fainting type, and I’m not going to start now, but I sidle closer to Jefferson so I have something to cling to if necessary. “You’re saying that whoever did this didn’t care about casualties,” I whisper. “They might even have been hoping for casualties.”