Hawkins was a loud, braying fool. He was always well dressed with neatly clipped brown hair and blue eyes that matched Win’s. He leaned toward boasting but usually with a big smile on his face. He had a fair amount of shallow charm that wore out fast. A man very much like Clovis Hunt. Wyatt had never been able to abide Hawkins, and though it’d made him sad because it was his own father, he’d learned early not to trust or abide Clovis.

“I’m going to get to work.”

“Excellent. You know which is the foreman’s house, don’t you?”

“Yes, but would you mind if I take Ralston’s house? It’s closer to work.” Just barely, but Wyatt tossed that out as an excuse. Truth was, he wanted to search Ralston’s house, and he wanted to be as close to the big house as possible, to listen for cries for help or gunshots.

“Whichever one you want, it makes no difference to me.” Hawkins had turned away from Wyatt and was walking toward Molly, smiling.

Wyatt walked toward the back door to the sound of Hawkins saying, “Let me show you to your room, then give you a tour of the house.”

Wyatt and Molly had worked out a way to communicate using a lantern at each of their windows. But that only worked at night.

It took every drop of his self-control to go on outside and leave Molly alone with a man they suspected of murder.

Fourteen

Molly set a lamp in the window of her bedroom. She was on the side of the house near the barn, and near where Wyatt would sleep. Win had suggested that. She’d known every bit of the house.

The housekeeper’s quarters were two nice-sized rooms. After a week of working for Mr. Hawkins—she’d been just as sternly instructed to call him that as Wyatt had—she’d learned her way around.

He’d ridden out twice: once to town because he carried home a few supplies, and once he said he just liked to ride. He didn’t say where, and she didn’t ask.

When he was gone, she had the run of the house, and she’d found the safe behind a picture in his office but couldn’t find one in his bedroom. There was an entire third floor in the house, and Mr. Hawkins had told her to leave it be. Just as Rachel had said, Molly was so relieved not to have to tackle another full floor of cleaning that she’d just gratefully acquiesced, but if she couldn’t find that safe in his room soon, she would have to expand her search to that floor. She was dreading it. She’d heard strange rustling noises from the third floor. She wondered about rats or squirrels being in there, but in truth, it gave the house a haunted feeling.