The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [94]
Bert shucked corn for supper, adding two more to the huge pile in hopes Mr. Zimmerman would return. Simon’s mission of spying on the Timmonses for whatever wickedness he had in mind was running short on time. He could disappear or pull out a revolver.
Lord, please. If You have a better way, tell me.
As though her prayers had been answered, she glanced up and saw a familiar painted horse and rider heading toward the house.
Thank You. I’ll do my part.
With the boys working late in anticipation of Evan moving to Fort Collins soon and the younger boys heading back to school, supper came later than usual. All of them were tired.
Earlier in the day, Leah told her John had agreed to let Steven go and planned to tell him tonight after supper. Bert considered more than once the idea of pulling John and Mr. Zimmerman aside, but too many people were crowded into the house. She didn’t dare let Simon suspect a thing. Every word and move must be done according to her feeble plan.
Hungry boys and men crowded around the table, filling and refilling their plates. Bert waited for the right moment to expose Simon. He wasn’t wearing a gun, but he normally carried a knife in his boot. John sat on one side of him and Mark on the other. Wirt sat at the end of the table nearest the door with his rifle propped against the wall. Bert prayed no one would be hurt.
“What did you learn in Denver?” John said to Wirt.
“The cattle’s probably been sold. And you know how I feel about rustlers.” Wirt picked up a glass of water, staring at the clear liquid as though it held the answers to his problems. “We can talk later. I saw Parker and talked to the marshal there. I’ll tell you what they think.”
“Sure,” John said.
“I’d like to volunteer to help in any way I can,” Simon said. “Haven’t any experience as a deputy. But in a short time, this area has come to mean a lot to me.”
“Thanks,” Wirt said. “I’ll let you know. A man needs experience to ride as a deputy. John here remembers when I rode out to help capture some outlaws, and I was green as grass. Nearly got us all killed.”
“I understand, but I’m willing to learn.” Simon finished his coffee. “I believe a man has to stand up for what he believes.”
Bert swallowed the acid rising in her throat.
“This country needs more men who stand up for what’s right.” Wirt nodded as though he agreed.
“If it wasn’t for this gal waiting for me, I would have joined the army.”
Liar. Simon, you don’t know the truth.
“An admirable career,” John said.
“Thanks. I may enlist yet.” Simon smiled at Leah. “Think I’ll turn in. Thank you, Miss Leah, for a fine supper. You too, Miss Bert.”
“Steven, I need to talk to you,” John said. “I can follow you out there or—”
“Just come on out to the barn,” Simon said. “I have a few things to do first.”
“I’d forgotten you wanted to clean your rifle,” John said.
The thought soured Bert’s stomach. She forced herself back from the table and stood. “Simon, why do you need to clean your rifle?”
“Simon?” Confusion etched John’s face.
“Yes, Simon Farrar, my brother. He’s behind the cattle rustlin’ and the murderin'.” Bert grabbed the rifle behind her and lifted it to her shoulder.
Chairs crashed to the floor, and Wirt headed for his rifle. Simon rushed to his feet, throwing his chair back.
With her finger near the trigger, Bert aimed at his cold, black heart. “I saw you kill enough men to know how to use this.”
John grabbed Simon and pinned his arms behind him, and Wirt jammed his rifle into Simon’s back.
“What’s this all about?” Simon appeared to startle. “I don’t understand this crazy girl.”
Bert’s courage grew. “I could start with you braggin’ about stealing Mr. Oberlander’s mare and how I tried to return it. What about how many men you’ve killed? Or the woman in Durango? Or the way you said you’d kill this family if I refused to help you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Simon struggled against John’s hold.
“Then why are you fightin'?” She pressed her finger against the trigger, knowing it was wrong to