Linda Castle - The Return Of Chase Cordell

“That’s very kind of you, Chase.” She picked up her full skirt and scooted close to the edge of the seat so he could help her to the ground. Linese’s voice resonated with obvious surprise at his suggestion.

He was taken aback by her response. Was his kindness something she didn’t expect? Another suspicious doubt about the kind of man he had been in the past snaked its way into his consciousness. What kind of treatment had he given his young wife before he left her? Was he exposing himself by extending the most common courtesy?

Chase grasped her gloved hand and prepared to help her from the buggy. He found himself wondering again why she wore the gloves when it was so hot. He wanted to ask her, then choked back the words. What if he was already supposed to know? There were a million questions he had about this woman and what they had shared, and no way to find any answers without subjecting himself to ridicule, or worse yet—her pity.

“Chase? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped him out of his trance.

He discovered that he was holding her, suspended halfway between the buggy and the ground. Her shoes hovered several inches above the earth. For a tiny fraction of time his brain registered how pleasant it was to have her so near. A hot flush of embarrassment flooded his cheeks.

“No, nothing is wrong. Nothing at all.” His voice was gruff with the lie.

She flinched at his tone and he saw her blink rapidly for a minute. Was she holding back tears? Dear God, if she cried he would be undone. The temptation to hold her for another minute or two tugged at him, but he let her down to the ground and tore his eyes away from her face. He climbed stiffly back into the seat without meeting her gaze again.

Chase gathered the reins and drove the buggy down the street, but when he reached the corner, he could stand it no more. He gave in to his impulse and glanced back.

Linese was watching him. For an instant their gazes met and he felt something flit through his mind, but before he could analyze whether it was a memory, it winnowed away. Chase swallowed his disappointment and urged the horse on to Goten’s Livery.

The man Linese had pointed out as being Ira Goten was raking manure at the side of the stable when Chase stopped the buggy. A slick sorrel with wild white-ringed eyes poked his head out of a stall at the back of the stable and nickered at the new arrival.

“Morning, Major.” Ira leaned on his rake handle and watched Chase lead the horse and buggy toward the back of the barn.

“’Morning, Mr. Goten. I’d like to keep the horse here while my wife and I are at the Gazette—if that’s all right,” Chase explained.

Ira smiled and gave a little snort. “Mr. Goten? No need to be so formal with me, Chase. I’ve been wondering when you’d stop by. Come inside. I have something of yours I’ve been meaning to return to you.”

“Something of mine?” Chase swallowed hard. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the man who evidently knew him, and once again found his own memory blank.

“Tie your horse up here, I’ll see to him in a bit.” Ira placed the rake against the fence and led the way inside the stable.

The mustiness of grain, straw and horse sweat filled the air. Chase paused a minute to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light. There was a harness spread out on the floor and assorted tools were scattered around in the dirt and grain chaff. Chase watched Ira stride to a corner and move a wooden box out of the way. Then he squeezed his lean body into a dark cranny where he lifted the lid off a staved barrel.

The aroma of cracked corn filled the air while Ira dug through the grain with his bare hands. His arm disappeared nearly to the shoulder before he smiled and started to pull it out.

“There, I’ve finally got it.”

Ira shook the bits of corn off his arm while he extracted it from the barrel. When his hand reappeared, he was clutching an oilskin-wrapped bundle.

“I kept it real nice for you.” Ira Goten thrust the bundle toward Chase.”I see your hand hardly scarred at all.”

Chase followed the man’s gaze to the narrow white scar on the back of his right hand. He didn’t know how he got it, but it was plain Ira Goten knew. Some deep instinct inside Chase told him not to touch the bundle the man held out to him, but he ignored the silent warning within his head. Whatever was concealed inside the oilskin, it was a link to his past, a bit of the puzzle he longed to piece together. He reached out and took the object from Ira’s hands.

The bundle was hard and moderately heavy in his grasp. He allowed his fingers to wrap around it while curiosity burned inside him. No recall came attached to the object. He wanted to pull back the covering and see what he held, but Ira Goten was watching him, so he forced himself to wait.

“I never did get a chance to talk to you again before you left. We were damned lucky that night in Ferrin County, weren’t we?” Ira smiled but it was a cheerless expression. “We did what we had to for the cause, didn’t we, Chase? And now you’ve come home a major with all kinds of decorations.” Ira shook his head from side to side as if amazed by the outcome of Chase’s time in the war.

Finally, Chase could wait no longer. He turned the oilskin over and untied it. Slowly, to hide his eagerness, he pulled back the covering until the barrel of a Colt appeared.

“Yep, it’s just like you left it.” Ira reached into one oversize pocket of his overalls and pulled out a small leather bag. Ira dropped the bag into Chase’s empty hand with a metallic plop that was surely money. “I intended to give you this, as well.”

“What—?” Chase asked under his breath.

“Take it. God knows you earned it. I kept it for you all the while you were gone.”

He knew what he would see before he ever pulled the cords at the top to look inside the bag. The sound had been clear and unmistakable. Just as he’d expected, a stack of gold coins was nestled in the bottom of the leather pouch.

Chase yanked the top closed. He couldn’t look at the money. Holding the gun in his hand, hearing what Goten said, he was afraid to think of what he had done to get the coins.

He looked up at Ira Goten’s lean, weathered face and found himself wondering what kind of man he had been before he rode off to war. What was he involved in that would compel this man to keep a gun hidden for two years? And how much blood stained the small bag of gold coins in his hand?

Chase dumped the gold coins deep into his trouser pocket. He tossed the small leather bag in a heap of manure outside Ira’s barn, then he slid the Colt beneath the buggy seat. His head ached from trying to remember what they signified. Now he found himself dreading the moment when he might actually remember his past. Only hours ago it had been the most important task in his life, now he was apprehensive that he might find himself face-to-face with a past he could take no pride in, a past that might shame him more than his grandfather’s feeble mind.

While Chase walked to the Gazette, he was occupied with nothing but questions about his past life. Each time he searched his mind for answers, all he found were more murky questions. And when he looked at his grandfather, he felt a mingling of fear and an overwhelming responsibility to protect and shield the old man from ridicule.

Chase sighed and ran his hand through his hair while he strode unevenly down the alleyway. He had confronted nothing but mystery since he stepped off the train. First, his wife seemed surprised when he showed her the most basic kindness, which made him question their former relationship, now he’d been given a hidden weapon and Chase knew there was a damned good chance he had used it to obtain the gold Ira handed him.