“Do you have any evidence to support your claim?” Lincoln asked.
Again, Mrs. Willow glanced around the room anxiously before bringing her gaze back to his. “Mr. Tiner and his wife fought constantly.”
“They did?” Lincoln asked, genuinely surprised.
Mrs. Willow nodded. “Mr. Tiner met Doris back East when he was going to college. Doris was the daughter of one of his professors, and her whole family lived in Boston. After Mr. Tiner graduated, he purchased the cattle ranch here in Longworth, and his wife was not pleased.”
“She wasn’t?” Amey inquired.
Mrs. Willow shook her head. “Heavens, no. Doris wanted to return back to Boston to be closer to her family. She hated living in Colorado. It was a great source of contention between those two.”
Lincoln furrowed his brow. “How do you know all of this?”
“Not only was I Doris’s friend, but I also witnessed one of their fights,” Mrs. Willow revealed.
“What happened?” Amey asked.
Mrs. Willow pressed her lips together before answering. “They came in for a late supper and sat at that table over there.” She pointed toward a table in the corner. “Everything appeared fine until Jacob started raising his voice. He was telling Doris that he would never leave Longworth, and he forbade her from traveling to stay with her parents.”
“Is that so?” Lincoln questioned.
Mrs. Willow nodded. “Doris started crying, and Jacob left the table in a huff.”
Amey glanced over at him before asking, “Did Jacob not escort Doris back home?”
“No, he did eventually come back,” Mrs. Willow replied, “but he’d spent a great deal of time out on the porch.”
Mary walked up to their table with their food and said, “I have a bowl of beef stew and a steak.” She placed them down in front of them. “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”
Lincoln shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you.”
The waitress nodded and headed back toward the kitchen.
Mrs. Willow rose from her seat. “I apologize for taking so much of your time, but I just wanted to warn you about Jacob Tiner. He is not a man to be trusted.”
“And we thank you for that,” Amey replied. “Good heavens! We wouldn’t want to be associated with a murderer, now would we, Lincoln?”
“No, we most assuredly would not,” Lincoln answered. “We will remember to steer clear of Jacob Tiner from now on.”
“I think that would be for the best,” Mrs. Willow said with a weak smile. “Now, please enjoy your supper.”
As Lincoln watched Mrs. Willow walk away, he asked, “What do you make of that?”
“It’s evident that Mrs. Willow truly believes that Jacob killed Doris.”
“I agree.”
Amey reached for her spoon. “But witnessing a fight between a married couple is a far cry from motive for murder.”
“True,” Lincoln acknowledged. “We’ll need to talk to Jacob about how he left out the part where he and his wife were having marital problems.”
Amey dipped her spoon into the bowl, brought it up to her mouth, blew on it, and put the bite of stew into her mouth. Her eyes lit up as she chewed and swallowed. “This beef stew is amazing,” she murmured before taking another bite.
Lincoln reached for his fork and knife. “I propose we enjoy our supper and then adjourn to bed early. We have a full day of work ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Agreed.”
He cut a big piece of meat and eased the entire portion into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “I also need to confirm that you are as good a shot as you claim to be.”
A smug smile came to her lips. “You won’t be disappointed, then.”
“We shall see,” he replied.
“No!”
Amey’s eyes flew open when she heard Lincoln shout from across the room. Without the slightest hesitation, she reached for the derringer under her pillow and shot up in bed. Her eyes scanned the darkened room, but she saw no sign of danger.
“No. Not Paul,” Lincoln muttered as he rolled onto his side. “They killed Paul.”
Knowing that Lincoln was having a nightmare, she returned her gun to its place under her pillow and laid her head back down. Lincoln continued to talk in his sleep, but Amey was unable to make out any more words.
Did she dare wake him up?
“I’m going to kill them all!” Lincoln exclaimed as he began to thrash about.
Amey sat up in bed and placed her legs over the side. If she didn’t wake him up, she was afraid that he would wake up the other patrons in the hotel. She rose and walked across the cold floorboards to where Lincoln was sleeping.
She crouched down next to him and said in a hushed voice, “Lincoln. Wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “You’re having a nightmare.”
In an instant, Lincoln shot up to a sitting position, pointing his revolver at her chest.
“Are you mad, Amey?” he shouted, lowering his gun. “You can’t just sneak up on a man in his sleep.”
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Regardless, I could have shot you.” He placed his revolver onto the floor next to him. “You should have let me sleep.”
“You were shouting, and I was afraid you would wake up everyone in the hotel.”
“Oh,” he replied as he ran his hand through his tousled hair. “I hadn’t realized.”
Amey remained silent for a moment before she asked, “Who is Paul?”
Lincoln gave her a baffled look. “Paul?”
“You said they killed Paul,” she replied.
In a dismissive tone, he answered, “He was our color bearer.”
“What is a color bearer?”
“A color bearer was the one who carried our flag into battle,” he explained. “Their job was to protect the flag at all costs and ensure it remained flying and visible at all times.”
“What happened to Paul?”
Lincoln visibly tensed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I understand.”
“You do?” Lincoln asked skeptically.
“I do. There are some things that are too painful to talk about, but I’m here if you want to share.”
“Thank you, but I don’t wish to burden
