Page 39 of A Secret Heart
“If you’d let me answer.” His voice remained calm as she finished arranging the covers and pulled back. “The man came up from behind. Must have thought I had the payroll for my ranch hands on me. When I didn’t have anything for him to take, he let me have it.” Frank held up his injured arm as evidence.
“Is there anyone who holds a grudge against you?”
Frank and Margaret exchanged glances, shaking their heads.
“Mr. Billings was attacked by a bandit. Brought into town.” Rebekah gripped the pencil tighter to steady her hand. “He was running for office too. He was on the list of candidates.”
“Seems mighty coincidental that they were both running for the same position.” Margaret shot her husband a worried look.
“I woke up with my eldest boy, Elmer, standing over me. Came after me when I didn’t arrive back in time for supper.” He motioned to his side table, and his wife reached over to pick up a knife and a piece of newspaper. “Found this next to me. Stuck in the ground.”
“That must have been frightening.” Rebekah’s mind raced, trying to tie the pieces together. It appeared the candidates were being targeted. But why?
“Elmer didn’t notice the paper until later.”
Rebekah leaned over to grasp the article from the paper as Margaret handed it to her. The one Mr. Sullivan had run announcing who was running for president of the Cattlemen’s Association. If someone was targeting all the candidates, was Quade next? But she’d already been to interview him. All Ed’s warnings rushed back at her, even as she tried to push them away.
“You didn’t come here to talk about a bandit. What questions do you want to know about my candidacy?” The words had a quiet determination, so out of place when the man couldn’t even sit up.
Rebekah couldn’t let this go. “Have you told the marshal?”
He stared at the bruises on his arm before continuing. “Not yet.”
“Anything else you can tell me? Did you recognize who did this?”
“Like I told you, the man came at me from behind. I remember seeing a bandanna over his face. He did have a tattoo on his hand. Like this.” Frank traced out a pattern on the blanket.
Her chest tightened. She handed him her paper. “Can you draw it here?”
“I’ll try.” As Frank sketched, Margaret worried her hands. After a few minutes, he handed the notebook back to her. “Think the marshal can use that?”
“It’s something to go on.” Her own words sounded as if she were listening to herself from afar. She’d seen the same tattoo on the man’s hand at Mr. Quade’s ranch. “I’ll make sure to get it to her.”
“If this is about you running”—Margaret shot Rebekah a worried look—“maybe you should drop out.”
“I’ll be fine, dear.” Frank scanned the room, turning his attention back to Rebekah. “You didn’t ride out here by yourself, did you?”
His concern touched her. “The McGraws have been looking out for me.”
At least, they had been. One in particular. If only he were with her. “I’ll send the marshal to you. And I’m certain the parson will organize some help for you.”
His brow wrinkled. “What about the McGraws? I thought you said they were watching out for you.”
Rebekah averted her gaze. She couldn’t answer that right now. “I’ll leave you to rest. Thank you for your time.”
Margaret motioned for Rebekah to follow her to the door.
“Thank you.” The older woman’s hand clasped Rebekah’s with a slight tremble. Her lips quavered as she spoke. “Good day, Miss Edwards.”
Rebekah walked toward Mabel and mounted as the door closed behind her. The moment she’d held a drawing of that tattoo—for the second time—nerves had stolen over her. Ed’s insistence that Quade was a snake rang through her memory. The cowboy with the tattoo had been on Quade’s ranch. In his kitchen. Was he working for Quade?
Her mind whirled with questions.
If the bandit had attacked from behind, could the rancher be mistaken?
If the cowboy was the bandit, did Quade know?
Riding Mabel at a canter, she jumped at every shadow. Mr. Jones’s story had to be written. The tattoo’s detail had to be printed. But Mr. Sullivan was still sore over the letters. He might refuse to let her write this story.
