Chapter Twenty-Nine

"So this is where Cavanaugh lived with his family?" Hallie asked as she and Jamison rode up to the neglected farm house. The faded, black shutters were hanging crooked and the white paint was chipped and peeling. Weeds had grown up through the wooden beams of the porch and the grass was high around the steps with no foot traffic to wear it down. It looked as if nature was trying to claim back its land and erase any reminder of what Cavanaugh had once had, and then violently lost, in this place.

"Yeah." Was all Jamison said in response.

"This land is amazing," Hallie replied as she looked around at the rolling mountain hills. There were forests and also good grazing land. Everything was lush and green.

"Amazing enough to kill over?" Jamison asked.

Hallie's eyes widened, "Is that what you think happened?"

Jamison nodded and pointed off in the distance at the black cattle dotting a hillside, "Cavanaugh owns that land. He owns nearly two hundred acres of land and it's all just as good as this. Somebody is helping themselves to what is Cav's and I want to know who."

"Yes but Cav hasn't been here in years. Maybe they don't realize the land is owned." Hallie countered.

Jamison shook his head, "You're smarter than that, woman."

Hallie sighed as they stopped and she looked sadly at the house, "I know." she replied quietly. "I just can't see why someone would end the lives of two precious babies just for some good grazing land. And then what they did to Leah....." Hallie shivered.

"Well I intend to make whoever is responsible pay very soon," Jamison vowed. "Now let's go check out the brand on those cattle. Keep your eyes and ears open and if I tell you to run, you run. Understood?"

"I understand," Hallie replied, though Jamison noticed she didn't agree to do as he said.

***

Just as Jamison had expected they would, the brand on the cattle led he and Hallie to Maxwell Crenshaw's ranch. As they rode past the sprawling barns and corrals and up toward the three story log mansion Jamison had to force his temper to keep from rising and remind himself that he had no proof that Crenshaw had had anything to do with what had happened to Leah and the kids. The man could simply be taking advantage of unused property now that Cavanaugh was gone. Unethical, yes. Illegal, only if Cavanaugh wanted to press charges.

"Can I help you both?" A middle aged man in dirty trousers and a sweat covered shirt asked as he stepped out of a barn and wiped his brow on his shirt sleeve.

"Yes, sir," Jamison replied as he pulled his horse to a stop. "I'm U.S. Marshall Jamison McEllis and I'm looking for Maxwell Crenshaw." Jamison didn't miss the flicker of surprise followed by uneasiness that passed over the ranch hands face at the sound of Jamison's name. Whether that was because he recognized the name McEllis or just was shocked to see a U.S. Marshall, Jamison couldn't say.

"The boss is up at the house, Marshall. You go ahead and hitch those horses in the shade over there and go on up. Mavis will let you in."

"Thank you," Jamison said with a nod. He led Hallie over to a hitching post in the shade of an old oak and they both dismounted and hitched up their horses. "Let me do the talking in here, Hallie and stay close to me."

"You think this man is that dangerous?" Hallie asked with a frown. "I'm sure he's a fat, gray haired man in a fancy suit and loafers."

Jamison looked down at her with a raised brow, "Must you always argue with me?"

She shrugged and offered him a bright smile, "It has worked for me so far."

"Are you gonna do as I say in there?" he demanded as he saw the man from the barn watching them.

Hallie nodded and kissed his jaw, knowing he would be uncomfortable with the public display, "Yessir. I'll behave," she promised. Jamison grumbled under his breath and then looped his arm around hers and led her to the door. He knocked and they waited several long moments until the door was opened by an older woman, with a plump waist and thin gray hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Can I help you?" she asked as she wiped her hands on the white apron she was wearing over her black dress.

"Yes, ma'am," Jamison replied with a tilt of his head as he removed his hat. "My name is U.S. Marshall Jamison McEllis and I was needing to speak with your employer, Mister Crenshaw."

"Of course." she said with a nod. "Come on in, both of you, and have a seat in the sitting room. I'll go get mister Crenshaw."

"My name is Hallie by the way," Hallie informed the woman as she led them into a room with heavy old English furniture and floral sofas and armchairs. Jamison threw Hallie a look as Mavis walked out of the room. Hallie simply shrugged as her lips twitched.

"What happened to don't speak?" Jamison demanded. "I would have rather got out of here without anyone knowing your name."

Hallie rolled her eyes, "Quit being paranoid, Mister McEllis."

"No, Mrs. McEllis. Being paranoid has kept me alive this long and I won't stop now just cuz some fool headed woman tries to offer me her two cents about the situation."

"You're testy today," Hallie accused. Though she knew the reason. Jamison's guilt was eating him alive. It had been since he'd returned from his trip to the future. Now that he was on the prowl for the men who had taken away Cav's family he was uptight, nervous and grouchy with anyone close enough to hear him. Unfortunately for Hallie that person seemed to always be her.

She sighed and laid a comforting hand on his cheek as they stood behind the sofa, "I love you, Jamison. You are a good man and you'll figure all this out." she assured him.

Jamison leaned into her touch and then cleared his throat and pulled away when they heard footsteps approaching. "Marshall! Ma'am! Please be seated." A rather jovial sounding man with a large stomach, thinning gray hair and heavy jowls exclaimed as he walked into the sitting room. He was wearing a tailed black suit over a white dress shirt. The buttons were ready to burst on his jacket and a golden pocket watch chain draped over his impressive gut.

Hallie couldn't stop herself from looking down at his feet and sure enough... Shiny black loafers. Hallie took the mans invitation and sat down on the couch while Jamison remained standing behind her.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Crenshaw, I've been sitting on a train and a horses back for the better part of a week and I'd just as soon stand." Maxwell Crenshaw nodded and then went to a decanter of whiskey on a small table. He filled a crystal glass and then looked questioningly at both Jamison and Hallie, who both shook their heads. He smiled, clutched his glass in his meaty left hand and then made his way to the armchair beside the empty fireplace and sat down.

"So, Marshall, I am assuming this is not a social call," he stated. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Do you remember a Cavanaugh McEllis that owns the property that borders yours to the east?" Jamison questioned.

Crenshaw looked quite relaxed as he nodded and took a sip of his whiskey, "Yes, I do." Then his eyes turned sad. "Terrible thing that happened to that poor man and his family. Just terrible."

Jamison nodded, "Cavanaugh is my brother."

"Sorry for the loss of your niece and nephew then, Marshall."

"Did you know my brother well, Mr. Crenshaw?" Jamison questioned.

Crenshaw shook his head as he sighed and adjusted the gold chain on his stomach, "No, I'm afraid to say I did not speak to him more than a handful of times. I met his wife and children only one time and they seemed like a very nice little family." Then Crenshaw frowned. "Forgive me, marshal, if this seems a little forward but the murder of those people happened years ago. Nearly four years to be exact. Why are you in my sitting room, so long after the tragedy and asking me questions about my neighbors?"

Hallie glanced back at Jamison's face but saw that his emotions were masked quite well. His face looked stern and cold but Hallie knew him like she knew the back of her freckled hand. He was angry. Hallie was too, honestly. There was something about Crenshaw that was off and while she couldn't place her finger on exactly what it was she was certain that Jamison would. The man had spent the last eleven years of his life taking care of criminals.

"I went by my brothers home to check on things and I couldn't help but notice some very nice heads of cattle grazing on his land. When I checked the brand it led me to your door, mister Crenshaw," Jamison replied as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Crenshaw gave them a guilty smile and took another sip of his whiskey. It made Jamison think of Ian. Ian had always said you can't trust a man who sits and slowly sips his whiskey. Ian had never given a reason as to why you couldn't trust them, he'd just said that you couldn't.

"I apologize for that, Marshall. I know it wasn't at all okay but I saw that land being unused and couldn't see letting all that good grazing go to waste."

"Actually without permission from Cavanaugh it is more than just not okay. It is actually quite illegal," Hallie spoke up and she could practically feel the anger rolling off of Jamison in waves. Not that she cared. He could get angry all he wanted but that had never kept her from doing what she wanted before. Besides, she still owed him for tying her up.

Crenshaw took another sip of his whiskey, his ice blue eyes boring into hers for a moment and then he sighed and sat his glass on the small table beside him, "Yes I know. I am really quite sorry. I will send some men out shortly to collect the cattle and bring them back onto Crenshaw land," Crenshaw offered Jamison a smile, "You mentioned having just been on a bit of a journey, are either of you hungry? I'm sure that Mavis could find something..."

"No, that's okay," Jamison stated quickly, though Hallie had been about to say yes. Her stomach was growling. "We aren't going to take up much more of your time, Mr. Crenshaw. I just have a few more things I would like to clear up."

Crenshaw nodded and once again wrapped his hand around the crystal glass of whiskey, "Ask away." he stated magnanimously.

"You always wanted that land of Cavanaugh's, didn't you?" Hallie was shocked by the abruptness of the question and it was clear that Crenshaw was as well. He nearly choked on the sip of whiskey he'd just taken and sat his glass aside as he adjusted himself in the chair.

"I'm not sure I appreciate that question." he stated.

Jamison raised a brow as the sun came out from behind a cloud and shone brightly off the badge on his chest, "Answer it anyway."

"It's true that I always wanted that land. It's nice land, Marshall."

"Better than the M.C. Spread I hear," Jamison stated, referencing Crenshaw's own land.

Crenshaw's face reddened as he snorted and tugged on his jacket, "That would simply be a matter of opinion."

Jamison remained calm and composed as he shook his head, "Your opinion, apparently, seeing as how you offered my brother twice what it was worth, or was it triple?"

"I fail to see how that is any of your business, Marshall," Crenshaw snapped as he hefted his large frame from his chair and made his way back to the decanter of whiskey to refill his glass. "What is the point of these questions?" he demanded.

Jamison shrugged, "Just trying to figure out exactly who would want my brother and his family gone."

"Get out of my house, now. Unless you are arresting me for something, I want you off my property, Marshall."

Hallie gasped at the mans sudden show of temper as he whirled around on them and his large jowls shook. Jamison nodded and plopped is hat back on his head, "Come along now, Hallie."

Hallie rose quickly and went to Jamison's side and his arm slipped around her waist as he led her out of the sitting room. Once they were outside and heading toward their horses, Hallie finally spoke again, "I might not be a U.S. Marshall but even I could tell that there was something he didn't want us finding out."

Jamison grunted as they unhitched their horses and climbed in the saddles. He glanced toward the first of the barns and saw the man who had greeted them still standing in the doorway watching them with a dark look on his face, "It doesn't mean he killed them." Jamison replied.

Hallie shook her head, "I'm sure he didn't. He's old and fat." She looked around the huge ranch. "But he's got plenty of money and you know the kinds of things that can buy."

Jamison nodded because he did indeed know, "All this time," Jamison growled as they rode away and he could feel the ranch hand's eyes burning holes in their backs. "All this time and the bastard responsible was right here."

"You couldn't have known, Jamison," Hallie assured him. "But now what are we going to do?"

Jamison hated that she was here. He wanted her to be miles and miles away and safe and sound. But instead his red-haired, wild cat was right here and in harms way.

"We're gonna make ourselves at home at Cavanaugh's old place and we're gonna wait. I have a feeling Crenshaw won't put up with our presence and he'll give himself away soon enough."

Hallie swallowed hard. She was scared. She was scared for herself and for Jamison. She knew her man was perfectly capable of keeping her safe in a fair fight but clearly Maxwell Crenshaw was not a man who fought fair.

Jamison glanced her way and saw the uneasiness in her green eyes. He moved his horse closer to hers and laid his hand on her arm, "Don't worry, old girl, I'll keep you safe."

"And yourself?"

Jamison sighed and squinted off into the sun, "I'll do my best."