Carolyn Davidson (19 page)

Clara had supplied the ring, removing it from her finger after breakfast to place it in the callused hand of the groom.

“Maybe Josie’ll have a better time of it if you put this
on her finger,” she’d said gruffly. “It held up for me for thirty years.”

Jeremiah had bowed his head, nodding his thanks. “I know she’ll cherish it, ma’am.”

“What’s this about your name being different from now on? Here I just got used to callin’ you Many Fingers and Maggie talkin’ about you being Tall Horse. Now Josie tells me you’re going by a different name.”

Jeremiah’s jaw had firmed as he’d met Josie’s gaze across the kitchen table. “I am marrying a white woman. I will use the name my mother gave me when I entered the white man’s world. It will be easier for Josephine if I do this.”

“Am I supposed to be callin’ you Jeremiah, then?” Clara had asked.

He’d nodded briefly. “That will be my name.”

From the church to the new courthouse was but a short walk. A gauntlet of stares followed the seven figures who formed a small parade from one place to the other. Josie’s hand lay on her husband’s arm, Cassie and Will following close behind. Hand in hand, leading the way, Maggie gripped her grandmother’s fingers, strangely sober, as if she recognized the solemnity of the occasion. Bringing up the rear, the preacher kept step, having told Will he would lend his support should it be needed.

They climbed the three wide steps to the courthouse door, their reflections gleaming from the glass the town had had shipped by way of train from St. Louis. Head high, Josie swept through the door her husband held open for her, then waited inside for him to join her. Together they entered the courtroom, taking seats in the front.

And then, almost before it had begun, it was over. It was the considered opinion of all concerned, including the
judge, that the death of Bennett Percival was due to his own behavior.

Clara was absolved of all guilt in the matter, and at the conclusion of the judge’s remarks she sagged in her chair with a faint sigh.

“Are you all right, Ma?” Will slid his arm over her shoulder, bending low to whisper in her ear.

“I will be.” Her spine resumed its normal state and she lifted her chin, lips compressed but steady. “We just do what we have to, Will. Better me doin’ the deed than that half-breed you brought home with you. He’d have ended up swingin’ from the end of a rope if he’d gotten there before I pulled the trigger.”

“He’s Josie’s husband now, Ma.” Will’s voice held rebuke as he led her to stand near the window.

“I’m gettin’ used to the idea,” she answered. “I reckon he’ll take better care of her than the other one did.”

“He’ll be sleeping in the house tonight,” Will reminded her, a warning evident in his tone.

“It’s gettin’ pretty crowded in there, Will. How soon can you fix up that old bunkhouse for them?”

“I’m going to stop at the lumber mill before I go home today and pick up some wood to use for another partition inside. Then it’ll be up to the two of them to tell me what they want done to the place,” Will said.

Jeremiah’s eyes were veiled as Will met his gaze across the room. As if he knew the gist of the conversation and had overheard the faint censure in Clara’s words, he strode to where they stood, bathed in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“We will not stay in the big house. I’ll work in the bunkhouse when we get to the farm,” he said quietly. “It has already been washed down. I only need to repair the
floor and build a couple of walls. I’ll move my belongings from the barn and Josephine and I will sleep there tonight.”

Will shook his head. “You’re welcome to stay in the house until we get the bunkhouse in shape.”

“No.” His denial was firm, his eyes holding a message Will was forced to respect.

“I don’t mind helping,” Will said agreeably. “I’ll give you a hand when we get home.”

“Thank you,” Jeremiah said solemnly. “But this is something Josie and I will do.” Jeremiah turned to his bride. “Are you ready? Where is Maggie?”

“Here I am, Tall Horse.” The little girl reached to take his hand. “Are we gonna live in the bunkhouse now? Mama says I can help move my bed out there.”

“You can help.” His eyes softened as he beheld the child, and he squatted to her level. “You are a brave girl, Maggie. You make me proud of you. I’ll be your father from now on.”

“Do I still call you Tall Horse if you’re my father?” she asked, her forehead furrowing as she spoke. Placing her tiny fingers against his face, she pressed her lips together firmly. “I think I’ll still call you Tall Horse. It was my name for you first, wasn’t it?”

He smiled, a glow lighting his face. “You saw into my heart, didn’t you, small one? You claimed me long before your mother knew she would share my path.”

“I always loved you, Tall Horse, as soon as you gave me your special name.” She reached for his hand, tugging him to rise. “Let’s go home and fix up our new house.”

Cassie’s hands pressed against her belly and she turned sideways to better see herself in the mirror. “I think I feel a little fatter.”

“Just around the middle, mostly.” Will stretched and
yawned, his feet pressing against the footboard of the bed. Patting the mattress next to him, he beckoned her. “Come on to bed, Cass. You’ve had a long day.”

“You can’t tell yet, Will?” Her tone was disappointed as she turned from the mirror.

He grinned. “I can tell, all right. You’re growing out of all of your clothes. You don’t like coffee anymore. You’re forever suckin’ on Ma’s dill pickles and you get all out of sorts at the drop of a hat.”

She pounced on him, sprawling across him before he could catch her. Her fists pounded on his chest in time with the words she spoke. “I’m not out of sorts! I’m sweet and kind and—”

Her words were cut off by the pressure of his lips, his big hand clasping the back of her head, forcing it close enough for his mouth to capture hers. “I’ll let you prove that right here and now,” he said solemnly, releasing her after a moment’s persuasion.

She gripped the front of his shirt with both hands, her eyes narrowing as she considered his words. “You want me to prove that I’m sweet?”

“And kind,” he prompted. “I could use some kindness at your hands right now. I have this terrible problem.”

Her mouth twitched. “I noticed.” She shifted against him, her hips settling firmly in place against his groin.

“Don’t be twitchin’ against me there unless you plan on takin’ the consequences, girl.” He lowered his big hands to rest them possessively on her bottom, pressing her even more firmly in place.

“I think I’m already full of consequences, Will.”

With a movement so rapid it took her breath, he rolled her beneath him, sparing her his weight as he rose above her. “It’s too late for second thoughts, honey. We’re gonna have a baby, like it or not.”

She shook her head. “No second thoughts, Will. I just wonder sometimes if I’ll be a good mother. It seems like a big responsibility. I don’t want to make mistakes.”

“You’ll be a good mother, Cassie. Our baby will grow up to be just like her mama, good and honest and kind.”

She bit at her lip as he recited the qualities he admired. Her voice wavered a bit as she spoke. “You forgot to mention sweet”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” He bent his head to taste her mouth, brushing gently across the softness of her lips. “Don’t know how I could have left that part out. If I remember right, there’s a little speck of sugar right here…” He dipped his head to her throat, then moved down across her collarbone and pressed his mouth against the rise of her breast.

“Yeah…just as I thought. Sweet as honey.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her eyes closing at the pleasure he brought her. Pleasure marred by the memory of his voice as he’d numbered her virtues. Good, honest and kind. If only she dared to confess, if only she knew for certain what he would say.

She pressed her lips together as she stopped the words that begged to be spoken. Maybe tomorrow, she thought.
Let me have just one more time with him, and tomorrow I’ll tell him.

F
rom outside the bedroom window Maggie’s voice broke the stillness. “Mama! Mama!” There was a moment’s silence, then with even more panic punctuating each syllable, she called again. “Uncle Will! Where are you?”

Rolling from the bed, Will stumbled, a muffled curse marking his path as he tripped over his boots. He leaned from the window, eyes straining in the darkness. “Where are you, Maggie?”

“Uncle Will? Where’s my mama? Her and Tall Horse wasn’t there when I woke up.”

Beneath the window the small child huddled on the ground, her face pale in reflected moonglow. “Damn!” The curse was muttered beneath his breath, and then he called down to the girl.

“I’ll be right down, Maggie. Get up on the porch. The back door’s open.”

“What happened, Will?” Cassie sat up in bed, her breath catching in her throat as he loomed over her, a shadow in the moonlight.

“Something’s wrong. Maggie says she can’t find her mother or Jeremiah.”

Cassie swung her feet out of bed and reached for her
robe. Slipping her arms through the sleeves, she was out the bedroom door and halfway down the stairs before she managed to tie it around her waist. Her feet flew as she hurried through the kitchen, opening the back door as Maggie lurched through into her arms.

“I can’t find my mama!” Her sobs punctuated each word and her arms tightened in a strangling grip around Cassie’s neck.

Cassie stood clutching the child, then backed up to sit on a chair. She held Maggie tightly, rocking her to and fro, whispering against her dark hair. “Hush now, sweetheart! It’s all right. It’s all right!” And even as she made the promises, her mind staggered at the possibilities.

Will came through the kitchen door, his mother at his heels. Reaching to the lamp over the table, he lit it quickly, then turned to his mother. “Stay in the house. I’ll go see what’s goin’ on.”

Clara nodded and followed him to the screen door, watching as he made his way through the moonlight toward the bunkhouse.

“What’s happened?” Cassie asked quietly.

Clara shook her head. “Will thinks maybe someone in town might not have liked…” She stopped, her glance cutting to Maggie. She shook her head.

Only the sound of the child’s whimpering broke the silence as Cassie watched the door. Clara went to the stove, shook down the ashes and added kindling from the box against the wall. With a quick flare of light, she lit a match and held it inside, waiting till a glow lit her face as the kindling caught fire.

Carefully she added two more chunks of wood and closed the lid into place. “Might as well heat up last night’s coffee. Might not be fresh, but no matter what, Will’s gonna need a cup in him before long.”

“They’re not there.” From the porch Will’s voice spoke the words Cassie had dreaded hearing, and her heart began once more to flutter in her chest. Her eyes closed as she considered the unspoken threat in Clara’s words. Why should it matter to anyone in town whom Josie married?

But perhaps it had.

“I’m gonna head for town,” Will said, his eyes hard, his voice harsh as he reached behind the door for his leather belt and holster. He fastened it around his waist, and Cassie watched as he moved the gun’s cylinder, loading each empty space with a bullet drawn from the pouch he’d hung there only a day ago. Was it only two days since he’d gone after Maggie and brought her back to them?

And now he was readying himself to look for her mother and the man she’d married. He twirled the cylinder again and placed the gun in its holster, emptying a handful of bullets into his pocket before he turned to look at his wife.

“Be careful, Will.”
Please don’t get hurt! I love you! I’m so afraid!
All the words she dared not speak raced through her mind. As if he read them in the anxious look she wore, he stepped to the table and bent to press his mouth against her temple.

“I’ll be fine, Cass. I’m gonna get the sheriff. Don’t any of you go out in the yard. I don’t want those prints disturbed.”

“Coffee will be hot in a few minutes, son,” Clara offered.

“Just heat it drinkable and I’ll have a quick swallow if it’s ready by the time I’m in the saddle,” he said, his big hand resting on Maggie’s dark hair. Bending, he whispered in her ear. “Hang on there, half-pint. I’ll find your mama.”

“And Tall Horse, too?” she asked, her voice muffled against Cassie’s breast.

His mouth twisted grimly. “Yeah, and Tall Horse, too.”

* * *

“Somebody knows where they are,” Will said harshly.

“What do you want to do, Will? Go from one house to another, bangin’ on doors to find out who’s home and who’s not?” Sheriff Mosley’s look was glum as he tucked his shirt into his trousers.

“Hell! I don’t know. I just know that somebody dragged Josie and Jeremiah out of that bunkhouse without waking up Maggie. There’s a whole slew of footprints there, but I couldn’t tell much of anything for sure in the dark.”

Carl heaved a deep sigh. “I knew there was gonna be trouble when you brought that fella home with you, Will. And then when Josie’s husband got shot…” He hesitated, reaching for his gun belt. “You’re sure Clara pulled the trigger?”

“Did you take a good look at her?” Will asked, feet braced apart, hands on his hips. “What do you think, Carl?”

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, I saw her. But the rest of the men around here didn’t. They were talkin’ down at the saloon last evenin’ about how Clara probably lied to cover up for that half-breed.”

“And you didn’t try to set them straight?” Will stomped across the floor to look out the window.

“Keep it down, Will. You’ll have my housekeeper down on our necks if you wake her up.” Pulling on his boots, Carl nodded at the door. “Let’s head for your place. Might as well start from there.”

The two men set off for the livery stable, Will leading his stallion. From the sheriff’s home it was but a short walk, but any distance was too far, as far as Will was concerned. God only knew where Josie and Jeremiah were by now, or what shape they were in.

“Looks like John Hogan’s up and at ‘em already,” Carl
said. A light blazed within the livery stable, and several men moved about in its glow.

“They seem to be havin’ a party,” Will said grimly, stepping up his pace. Pulling his stallion up short, he mounted and cleared his foot from the stirrup. “Get up behind me, Carl,” he said tersely.

Without hesitation the sheriff hoisted himself up to sit behind Will’s saddle, and the stallion moved quickly to the door of the stable. Will ducked his head, Carl following suit, and the horse trotted inside.

Almost in unison they slid from the horse and approached the group of men who were watching them from the far end of the aisle.

“What you boys up to?” Sheriff Mosley asked, his tone deceptively quiet. His hand on the butt of his gun, he moved ahead of Will.

Only one of the men looked familiar to Will. “Aren’t you Devlin Bartlett’s boy?” At the young man’s startled expression, Will frowned. “Does your pa know you’re out and about in the middle of the night?”

“It’s pret’ near morning,” the youth blustered. “And who made it any of your business, anyway?”

“I reckon it’s my business, Daryl,” the sheriff said, halting Will with an upraised hand. “What about the rest of you boys? You been up to makin’ trouble for somebody?”

“What makes you ask, Sheriff?” A lanky cowhand leaned negligently against a stall door, his grin cocky, his hands thrust into his pants pockets.

“Seems to me you’ve been in enough trouble lately, Rocky, without causin’ any more,” the sheriff told him. “How about the rest of you? Want to tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“Hell, you’re just pussyfootin’ around here, Carl!” Will snarled. Striding past the man called Rocky and shoving
Daryl Bartlett from his path, he stopped in front of the tallest and widest of the lot. “You look like a man who’d know how to organize a bunch of troublemakers, if I ever saw one,” Will said quietly. “You want to tell me where you’ve been the past couple of hours?”

“No, can’t say that I do.” With a sidelong glance at his companions, the man shrugged, his bold glare a challenge.

Will’s hand shot out and gripped the man’s shirt, lifting him to his toes. “You’d better start talkin’ now, and talkin’ fast. I’m not in a mood to put up with any foolishness.”

“Now, Will. You haven’t any proof and neither have I,” Carl Mosley said, striding forward to lay a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“You got no right to put your hands on me,” the man protested, his face a mask of anger.

His eyes narrowing, Will loosened his grasp and turned to Carl. “Maybe you’re right at that, Sheriff. Maybe our best bet is to take a ride over to see Devlin Bartlett and ask him what his boy’s doin’ out in the middle of the night”

“My pa don’t care what I do,” Daryl said loudly. “You better not be gettin’ him out of bed or he’ll be mad enough to lay you low.”

Will nodded. “Yeah? Maybe we’ll just see about that, sonny.” Turning from the assembled group, he mounted his stallion and reined the horse around.

“Hang on, Will. I’ll go with you. Let me get my horse,” Carl said quickly.

“Aw, for cryin’ out loud!” Daryl shook his head and walked to where Will waited impatiently. “We just been out havin’ a little fun. Ain’t no law against that.”

“Did that fun include my sister and her new husband?” Will asked, tilting his hat back with one finger. His horse danced beneath him, and Will tightened up on the reins.

“We didn’t hurt him much,” Daryl said sourly.

“Shut yer damn mouth,” one of the other young men shouted.

“I ain’t gettin’ my pa mixed up in this,” Daryl said stoutly.

“Where are they?” Will asked, his dark eyes gleaming with an anger he fought to suppress. “Answer me, boy!”

Daryl looked back at his companions, none of them willing to meet his eye, and shrugged. “They’re out at the Ferris place, east of town. Old Ferris is deaf as a post, and we just used his barn for a little while.”

“I’ll be back to settle up with all of you,” Will said, his gaze sweeping over the six men who watched him. “You want to come along, Sheriff?”

Carl snatched up the reins of an already saddled horse and mounted in a lithe movement.

“Hey, that’s my horse!” A pale, slender youth burst from the group, intent on the animal Carl Mosley had chosen.

“Well, you just stick around, Clay, and I’ll bring it back in one piece.” Following Will’s lead, Carl rode back into the dawn, hard-pressed to catch up with the long-legged stallion.

The road was deserted, the sun barely touching the horizon, and the two men rode at a breakneck pace. “How far?” Will asked, holding his horse down to accommodate the other man’s slower pace.

“Not more than a half mile or so past the edge of town. Right around the bend,” Carl said.

“Someone’s out in the barnyard,” Will announced, turning his horse sharply to ride up the lane to the farmhouse.

“That’s old man Ferris. Must be goin’ out to feed his stock.” Carl trailed behind as his horse valiantly tried to keep up, and he could only watch as Will leapt from his stallion to run past the old farmer toward the barn door.

“Josie? Jeremiah! Are you in there?” With long strides he entered the barn, his voice echoing as he called their names.

A horse neighed and several cows sounded their discomfort, their lowing a mournful sound. Will halted, listening, then repeated his call. “Josie? Jeremiah?”

From the back of the barn a stall door banged open. “Will? Will! Come quick.” Josie stood in the doorway of a box stall and Will caught his breath at the sight of her.

Her face was dirty, her hair tangled and snarled around her face, and beneath the hem of her torn robe she was barefoot. She clutched herself, crying silently as shivers racked her body. He caught her up in his arms and she pushed at him frantically.

“Come see to Jeremiah,” she cried. “Oh, Will! He’s hurt something awful. It’s all my fault.”

“Damn! I knew it!” Setting Josie aside, he entered the stall, cursing the dim light as he caught sight of the man crumpled on the straw. He bent low, then dropped to his knees.

“Jeremiah! Can you hear me?” Carefully he rolled his friend to his back, wincing as he caught sight of the battered face and torn clothing. A groan sounded from the injured man, and Josie cried out at the sound.

“Help him, Will. Please!” She fell to the floor beside him and Will hugged her tightly against himself.

“We need to get him home, Josie. I can’t do much for him here. I don’t even know how bad off he is.”

“Let me help.” Carl Mosley spoke from the doorway of the stall. “Come on, Josie. Get on out here and let your brother and me see to the man.”

“I went to the outhouse during the night, Will,” she whimpered. “Someone grabbed me, and pretty soon Jeremiah came out looking for me.” She rose, backing from
the stall, her eyes streaming tears as she watched the two men lift Jeremiah. Carefully they carried him from the barn to where a farm wagon stood beneath the eaves. From the house the old farmer hurried with his arms full of quilts and a pillow.

“I sent him in for a blanket. Guess he took me at my word,” Carl said with grim humor.

Hastily the farmer spread his wagon with a quilt and pillow, then stood back as the two men loaded the inert body of Jeremiah Tall Horse onto the flat surface. Josie hoisted herself up to sit next to him, her hands fluttering over his chest and face, as if she feared to touch him lest she add to his injuries.

Mr. Ferris emerged from the barn, leading two big draft horses. He backed them up to the wagon and in moments the three men had the harnesses in place and the reins wound around an upright spoke. From the house a small, spare woman hurried off the porch, a basin in her hands, a towel draped over her shoulder.

“Here.” She approached the end of the wagon where Josie sat, crooning and rocking as she leaned over Jeremiah. “This here is warm water, missus. Take the towel and wash him up a little. You’ll be better able to tell how bad he’s hurt.”

Josie reached for the basin, whispering her thanks, and, dipping the towel in the water, she bent to her task. At her touch a moan escaped his swollen lips and she sobbed afresh, turning her head to brush away her tears against the shoulder of her robe.