CHAPTER 1
July 22, 1881
Jake waited for the riverboat to bump against the rope-wrapped piles and the crew to secure it to the dock before he grabbed his duffle and hurled it onto the dock. He didn’t wait for them to lay the boarding plank down before he leapt across the gap and landed on the weathered wood surface.
He hung his duffle over his left shoulder then began walking quickly to dry land. It was just a little after the noon hour on a Friday, so Sheriff Zendt should be in his office. For the two days and nights he’d spent on board The Ottawa, Jake had tried to understand what had happened and nothing seemed to make any sense. While his parents’ personalities were completely different, he had never heard them fight. They argued sometimes, but never nearly as often or as loudly as he and his father had. Jake simply found it hard to believe that his father would hurt his mother, much less kill her. But within the hour, he’d have his answer.
He soon stepped onto the boardwalk and took long, rapid strides to reach the jail. Sheriff Zendt had been elected to the job three years before Jake enlisted, and Jake knew him well. He’d met his two deputies a few times, but neither of them seemed to like him very much. He assumed it was a case of poorly disguised jealousy because Jake was the only son of a powerful man who was born into a life of privilege. The sheriff knew better. He treated Jake for who he was, not for any perceived notions. He also knew full well that Jake had anything but an easy life on his father’s massive ranch.
As Jake approached Smith & Sons Feed and Grain, he felt a twang of envy vibrating deep within him. His mother had passed along the news that Kay Smith had married Homer James in November of ’78, just two months after he enlisted. Homer was the oldest son of Henry James, who owned the largest grain mill in the county. Jake assumed that they had their own house now, but his mother never mentioned it in any of her letters.
His deep thought and inattention then created a real world episode of deja voux when he almost ran down a young woman leaving the feed and grain’s door carrying a tray. He stumbled but managed to avoid smashing into her or losing his duffle. He stepped back and swore he was staring at Kay Smith, but she had dark blonde hair rather than Kay’s sandy brown and her blue eyes were noticeably darker.
She laughed and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”
“No. It’s my fault I was walking too quickly and not paying attention.”
Her eyes grew wider as she asked, “Is that really you, Jake?”
Jake didn’t have to guess her name once the shock of the near collision had passed.
“Hello, Sara. I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown up quite a bit since I left.”
Sara smiled and said, “You’ve changed too, Jake.”
Then her smile slowly faded as she said, “I’m sorry what happened to your mother, Jake. It was a terrible thing.”
“I didn’t even know about it until three days ago. Sheriff Zendt sent the telegram to the War Department and it took a while to reach me. I’m going to stop in the jail to ask him for details before I head out to the ranch.”
“How long are you staying before you have to go back to the fort?”
“I’m no longer in the army, Sara. I was mustered out a few months early.”
“That was thoughtful of them to let you out because you needed to take over the ranch.”
“I doubt it they were being compassionate. It’s not in any of their books of regulations. Now that the Indian wars are pretty much over, they had too many soldiers and were probably just looking for any excuse to get rid of few.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m very happy that you’ll be staying. I’ll let you talk to the sheriff, but don’t be a stranger, Jake.”
Jake nodded and managed a smile before Sara crossed the street. He watched her until she was safely across, then saw her look back at him before she turned left and headed back to her family’s home. It was a strange but very nice welcoming.
He shifted his duffle’s thick canvas strap before he resumed his march to the jail. It was only another two blocks and soon turned into the open doorway.
Sheriff Arvin Zendt was sitting behind the front desk when he heard someone enter and quickly looked up. He identified Jake Elliott but was surprised by his physical changes that had taken place during his three years in the army.
He still grinned, rose from the chair and extended his right hand as he said, “It’s good to see you again, Jake.”
Jake shook the sheriff’s hand then lowered his duffle to the floor, removed his hat and sat down on one of the two chairs in front of the desk as Arv Zendt returned to his seat.
“I’m really sorry about your mother, Jake.”
“Thank you, Arv. Why did you send the telegram to the War Department?”
“Nobody on the ranch knew where you were. I reckoned the army would be able to forward it to your post.”
“It took them a while. But the telegram didn’t tell me much. I was shocked to learn that my mother had been murdered but found it almost impossible to believe that my father had killed her. But they cut me loose, so I’m a rancher again. Tell me what happened.”
“I have Dave Forrest’s statement in my office if you want to read it, but I know it almost word for word. He told me that he returned
