“Where am I?” he turned his piercing eyes on his cousin Mary, his face stern.
“This is the camp mission in Cheyenne,” Mary scowled down at him, worry flickering in her eyes. “Do you know me?”
Blake motioned her closer, pitching his voice low. “I do, but I’m not myself right now,” his crooked grin communicated much. “I’m on a job and don’t want anyone to know who, or what I am.”
Mary nodded. She hadn’t seen Blake in nearly two years since he had graduated from the police academy and moved up into the rank of detective. Blake was one of the youngest members of the force, and his family had seen very little of him in recent months. “Is there anything we can get for you, sir,” she asked, lifting her voice so that curious onlookers would know she was simply greeting a new visitor. “The hostler from down the street brought you here when you rode in yesterday. He seemed to think this was the right place for you.”
Blake nodded. “I’ll have to thank the man. Did you do this?” he touched the bandage on his head and cringed at the sharp pain from the wound.
“Yes, we have been known to patch up those who have been mugged or taken advantage of in the big city.”
Blake gave a slight nod of his head pushing himself up from the bed and staggering a step before Mary took his arm, steadying him.
“Are you sure you should be up?” she hissed into his ear. “That injury did not look like a mugging.”
“I’d like to get outside,” Blake said, his voice carrying as he scanned the room for familiar faces. It was possible that some of the rats that worked behind the scenes for the Branson gang were staying here in the mission. Too many men had become addicted to the bottle and had fallen into a criminal living when alcohol had been banned, so it only made sense to be careful.
“Let me help you,” Mary smiled at the few men who were watching the interaction. “That is my job after all,” she clarified slipping her arm under his and helping him to the door.
Blake pulled in a deep breath of cool air as they stepped out onto the street, into the bright sunlight, and he felt his head clear a little.
“Blake, what on earth are you doing here any away?” Mary whispered. “That injury looks like a gunshot wound.”
“Probably because it is,” Blake’s rakish grin made Mary Bridgette growl at him.
“Why don’t you come over to the house, and you can rest there a while? Barrister will be glad to see you, and you can explain everything.”
“Under two conditions,” Blake said, holding up two fingers, his hard jaw taking on that stubborn look she had come to recognize so well even when he was no more than a boy.
“What conditions?” she asked, resignedly.
“One, I check on my horse and gear, and two, you don’t tell the family I’m here.”
“But Blake,” Mary’s light eyes grew wide.
“Promise me Mary, or I’ll ride out right now.”
“Alright,” she said on a sigh. “But I want to know what’s going on. Maybe we’ve heard something that can help you with whatever job you’re doing. Besides it will be nice to catch up with family. We haven’t been home to the Broken J since first snow fall.”
“Where’s my hat?” Blake asked touching his head one more time.
Mary rolled her eyes but ducked back into the building returning a moment later with his dark cowboy hat. “I would have thought you had traded that in by now for something more modern.”
Blake gingerly placed the hat on his head at a rakish angle and winked. “Point me in the direction of the livery, and I’ll circle back around to your place by dinner time.”
Mary nodded pointing down the street before placing her hands on her hips and watching her cousin’s unsteady progress down the bustling street of the big city. She and her husband had been here at the church mission for nearly ten years now, but she had never expected to see her own kin carried in to the mission and homeless shelter they provided for those who were down on their luck.
When Mary and Barrister had first joined the shelter, there had been a large number of soldiers back from the Great War who struggled to settle into their former lives, many turning to drink and other vices to hide from the pain and suffering of a horrible war. Now, more of the men were suffering from addictions and some were possibly hiding from the law.
Pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she watched her younger cousin turn the corner, wondering if that was the real reason he was here. Was he tracking an outlaw and didn’t want anyone to know who he was? It was going to be complicated if he would be staying at the mission for long. Turning back to the door she had just exited she read the plaque on the wall.
Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
It was the motto they lived by. Offering what care and comfort they could to those in need and providing prayer and spiritual guidance to help lost men find their way again.
With a heavy heart Mary stepped back into the mission her sturdy heels clicking on the hard floor as she headed for the office and the head of the mission itself, her husband. Barrister would be happy to see Blake, but would her cousin’s presence be a problem if he was looking for a criminal? Only time would tell, but Mary bit her bottom lip as she worried over the problem, and the promise she had made not to tell the rest of the family that he had been injured.
Meg and Clayton would surely come to Cheyenne to see Blake if they knew he was here, but she had given her word, and
