Hannah's Dream (28 page)

"
Oui
," she said.  "I have seen him."

Evan's heart began to beat faster.  "You're sure?"

"Oui
, but his name is not Pierre Rousseau.  His name is Jean-Pierre Renault."

Evan felt the room grow smaller as though the walls were moving toward him.  He was standing next to the long counter and put his hand on it to steady himself.

"Jean-Pierre Renault?" he asked.

"
Oui
, that is him."

"How do you know Jean-Pierre Renault?"

"Sheriff, why don't you sit and have a cup of tea with me?"

As they sat at the dainty lace-covered table sipping tea, Yvette told him the story of Jean-Pierre Renault.  She told him how he had ruined her, and even though she was doing well today, she still remembered the sting of being humiliated by him and his family.  Her eyes were hard as she talked about Jean-Pierre, and when she was done, Evan knew she had, in deed, seen him.  Now he had all the proof
he
needed to confirm what his gut had told him all along -- that Jean-Pierre and Pierre Rousseau were the same man.

She walked him to the door and he thanked her for her help and for the tea.  As he was about to leave, she put her hand on his arm.

"Get him," she said.  "
Hurt
him."

"I'll get him," he promised.  "And I'll make sure you know."

Evan went back to the hotel confident he would have his man, and he wanted to get Old Mike and head to High Bend, but it was after five in the afternoon and he had no idea how long it would take to reach the ranch.  Despite his eagerness to get there, he knew staying put for the night was the best thing to do.  His stomach told him he hadn't eaten since morning, so he looked for a restaurant.

It was Saturday night and the saloons were already filled with cowboys out on the town after working all week.  He was in no mood to tangle with cowboys, so he passed them by and finally found a restaurant that offered dinner.  After enjoying a hardy meal, he went back to the hotel.

Evan hadn't read the letter of introduction Louise gave him.  When he got to his room, he took it out of his bag and took it out of the unsealed envelope.  The letter was addressed to James Hughes.  Evan wondered if he was related to the Hugheses of Philadelphia, the family of the girl in the picture he carried in his wallet.  He tried to remember if she had a brother, but twenty years had passed.  His memory of those days was spotty at best.

Evan met Marian at a ball in Philadelphia.  She was a gentle girl with warm green eyes and she smiled when he asked her to put his name on her dance card.  When his turn came, he went to her and she gave him her hand.  She was small in his arms and graceful as they glided around the ballroom.

With her father's permission, he visited Marian every day that week.  He was going to Texas to fight Indians.  He was a lieutenant in the 4th Cavalry and at twenty-eight, cut a dashing figure in his uniform.  He knew Marian was smitten with him, but he had fallen
in love
with her.  He asked her to write, promising he would write in return, and the night before he left Philadelphia, he kissed her as they stood on the balcony of her father's house.  He could still feel her soft, warm lips on his.

When he arrived in Texas, he was sent to an outpost in the desert and the first week there, he was out on patrol with a small company of men when an arrow landed in his thigh, forcing him off his horse and onto the ground.  The soldiers got him back to the outpost, but the doctor there drank more than he should and when he took the arrow out, he damaged part of the muscle.  He didn't dress the wound properly and infection set in.  Evan was taken to a hospital in El Paso where a doctor was able to control the infection and save Evan's leg, but he was left with a slight limp.

Unbeknown to Evan, his Aunt Beulah had contacted an acquaintance who had ties to the military asking them to take Evan out of the line of fire.  Evan would have been mortified by her well-meaning actions, and he always wondered why he had been assigned to a post in St. Louis.  He kept asking to be reassigned to his old outpost, but his requests were repeatedly denied.  He served another three years before leaving the cavalry with a small pension in compensation for his war wound.

During this time, Marian had written to him and enclosed a photograph.  She had continued to write for one year, but stopped when she married Randall.  Two years later, Evan received a packet of letters.  They had been held at his first outpost while he was recuperating and sent to St. Louis when he was assigned there.  He read each one and put the photograph in his wallet.  He requested a month's leave and it was granted, then he went to Philadelphia to visit his aunt.  When she saw his limp, she cried.

He asked about Marian, and she told him that Marian had married and was living in New Jersey.  She had a child.  Evan's heart broke.

"You can't expect a young girl to wait forever.  We didn't know if you were dead or alive.  I saw her mother at Arlene Monte's luncheon and she told me the girl's father arranged the marriage.  I thought it best to leave things as they were.  You will meet someone else someday, Evan, someone just as pretty as Marian Hughes."

But will her lips be as soft, or her face as comely?

When he left the military seven years later, he went to Cherry Hill where his brother had a farm.  He became a lawman and was elected sheriff.  Then Jean-Pierre Renault stole a family heirloom and now he was sitting in a hotel room in Denver, Colorado.

He put the letter back into the envelope and put it in his bag.  If, by some miracle, James was related to Marian, he could ask how she was doing after all these years.  He wanted to know she was happy.  He wanted to know why she didn't wait.

The next morning he headed to High Bend.  Old Mike was a big horse who took long strides.  They arrived two hours later.  He could hear the organ playing in the Methodist Church as he passed.  He wondered if there was anyone manning the sheriff's station or if everyone was in church.

The sheriff of High Bend was Pete Cole, a bandy little man who could wrestle the most ornery lawbreakers with his swift and lethal hands.  Pete learned how to subdue a man when, as a youngster living on his father's small ranch outside Denver, an Indian named Joe showed him how to wrestle.

"You don't need strength," Joe said.  "You need to know how to move."

Pete was wiry and moved like lightening.  Joe taught him well, and no man, big or small, could take Pete down.  He became a deputy in High Bend under Rasmus Greer and stayed on for twenty years.  During that time, Pete gained a reputation and now, when a man saw him coming, he just surrendered.  Pete never had to use his gun on the local citizenry.  He merely had to show up during a bar fight and the men would back down.

Pete was sitting behind a big desk when Evan walked in the door.

"Morning," he said.

"Mornin'," Pete replied.  "What can I do you for?"

"I'm looking for someone, a Frenchman goes by the name of Pierre Rousseau."

"Ain't got no Frenchman here," Pete said.

"Do you mind if I ask around?"

"What's he done?"

"He's stolen personal property, assaulted an officer of the law, and I think he murdered someone."

"Who you workin' for?"

Evan thought Pete would be more inclined to help him if he thought Evan was a lawman.  "I'm the sheriff in Cherry Hill, New Jersey."

"And they sent you all the way out here?  Coulda just put up his picture.  We would have sent him back."

"The lawman he assaulted was me."

"And you want to make sure he's caught.  I understand.  Sure, go ask all you want, but there ain't been no Frenchman in these parts in years.  When there were, they was Canadians.  Is he a Canuck?"

"No, he comes from France."

"Well, you can do what you please."

"Much obliged," Evan said.  He turned to go and then turned back to Pete.  "Do you know where I can find James Hughes?"

"There's a road on the other side of town.  You gotta pass the livery, the blacksmith, the school, and the doc's office.  Take that road all the way and you can't miss it.  You'll ride right into Hughes' ranch."

"Thank you kindly for your help," James said.

Evan assumed the Hughes family was at church and went into the Half Moon saloon to ask about Pierre.  It was quiet and some of the patrons from the night before were sleeping with their heads on the tables.  A girl was at the bar and she smiled when the good-looking lawman walked in.  He went over to her and tipped his hat.

"Morning, ma'am," he said.

"That's miss to you," she said.  "Or you can call me Sally.  What can I get you,
cowboy
?"

He didn't care for the way she said cowboy.  She was looking to make two bits and he wasn't interested.  He pulled out his wallet and her face glowed with excitement.  Then he pulled out the newspaper picture of Pierre.  When she saw what it was, she frowned.

"Have you seen this man?" he asked, laying the picture on the bar.

She squinted when she looked at it.  He did look familiar, but she wasn't sure.

"Maybe," she said.

"In here, or on the street."

"I didn't say I knew him for sure, but he looks like somebody I've seen in here."

"Did he stay here?"

"No, I would have remembered that.  He just came in for a drink and left, maybe a couple of times."

"Is this place full at night?"

"Yup.  Even on Sunday."

"Then I'll be back later on."

He tipped his hat again and she blushed.  It wasn't often these rowdies treated her with respect.

All the other businesses were closed except the blacksmith.  He headed down the street, stopped in front of it, and tied Old Mike to the hitching post.  A man wearing a thick leather apron and union suit nodded when he walked in.

"You one of them holy rollers come to tell me I can't work on Sunday?" he asked.

"No, sir.  I'm here to ask you some questions about a Frenchman."

"Ain't no Frenchman around here."

"So I've been told.  Can I show you his picture?"

The man, Duke, nodded.  He had a horseshoe affixed to the end of a long pole and was banging on it.  Evan pulled out the picture and held it up for Duke to see.

"Hold it back," Duke said.  Evan pulled it away from Duke's face.  "I've seen that guy.  He was in here wanting to get shoes on his horse.  He didn't talk, though.  He just wrote stuff down and my son read it for me."

"Did you see where he went?"

"I don't leave the fire.  You'd have to ask my son.  He goes to church with his mama."

There was a long table against the far wall and Duke walked over to it to get another tool.  There were slots at the back of the table where the long tools were kept.

"I'll come back," Evan said as he turned to leave.

"Well ain't that the darndest thing?"

Evan turned back around.  "What is?"

"My hammer is missing."

"What's that in your hand?"

"I got two.  The other one should be there."  Duke was pointing to the gap between the tools.

Since Evan had nothing left to ask Duke, he left the blacksmith scratching his head over the disappearance of his hammer.

As he climbed onto Old Mike, he heard the church bell ring.  A buggy rode past him followed by a carriage.  He followed them all the way up the road.  They were moving fast and he stayed back to let the dust settle.  They had just passed a wooded area.  They were going too fast to notice the swarm of flies buzzing on the right side of the road.  Evan got that tight feeling in his gut again.

He stopped Old Mike and slid off his back.  He walked to the edge of the road and peered into the woods.  He took a step forward and followed the flies.  It was darker under the trees and he waited for his eyes to adjust before moving forward.  He looked at the ground as he walked and had only taken a few steps when he saw something red a few feet away.  It was under dry leaves so he used his foot to move them aside.

It was a body.  The boy's eyes were open and he had a long, bloody gash on the side of his head.  His shirt was plaid and Evan reckoned he must have been a ranch hand for James Hughes.  He couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen.  Evan went back and climbed onto Big Mike.  He couldn't decide whether to go back to get Pete, or go ahead and let James Hughes know about his hand.  He thought he was closer to the ranch and headed that way.