Hawk Moon (29 page)

Once more, she waved Anna's letter in her face.

"You misread your evidence, Miss Tolan. A tortoiseshell comb. A button to a
woman's
dress. Shoeprints from a
woman's
shoe. And the Indian girl's wounds were light — far less than a man would make them."

Now Anna realized what she was hearing — a confession. Eleanor Shipman smiled. "But there's nothing you can do about it, Miss Tolan. Not anything at all."

Anna tried to speak but Eleanor Shipman raised her voice and said, "Samuel!"

The servant reappeared instantly. Stayed at the door. "Show Miss Tolan out, Samuel."

"Yes, ma'am."

But Anna would not be moved without her say. "I won't let you get away with it, Mrs. Shipman. I'm going to tell the Chief and the Mayor and anybody else who'll listen to the truth — and I'll make them believe me."

But all Eleanor Shipman said was, "I told you to show her out, Samuel."

"Yes, ma'am."

Anna glared at the woman one more time and then followed the servant out.

T
he Chief couldn't refuse Anna. She wouldn't let him. He got the Mayor over and the County Attorney and a representative from the prison. Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, they had four meetings. Anna was at each one, telling her story over and over.

"Do you know who you're accusing of murder?" the Mayor said.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"And do you have any proof of this?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Other than this "scientific detection" of yours, I mean?"

"Well, sir, I guess not."

"Well, then, let's forget this whole damned thing. If you think I'm going to stand by and see you accuse one of the finest women in this town of—"

The County Attorney looked at the Chief and said, "I'm very busy, Chief. I need to get back to my office." He gave Anna a scornful glance. "As far as I'm concerned, this has all been a waste of time."

The Mayor, too, picked up his hat and left.

"He's innocent," Anna said when she was alone with the Chief.

"Anna, this is so preposterous. That Mrs. Shipman would—"

"She did it."

"You have no proof whatsoever."

"Her word."

"Her word? You told me yourself she said you could never prove it."

Anna didn't make a ceremony of it. Simply put her badge on the desk. "I'm resigning, Chief."

"Anna, listen, please—"

She shook her head. "I know what you're up against, Chief. And I know there's nothing you can do. I mean, I really don't have any evidence."

"Anna, I just wish you'd be sensible . . ."

I
n the morning, she took the train to Des Moines and visited the Governor. He was a friendly, plump man who wore a brocaded vest and a bright yellow cravat.

"Do you have any proof of your accusations?"

"Not what you'd call proof, no."

"Yet you'd expect me to call off the execution?"

"Just postpone it."

"He was found guilty, young woman. Aren't you aware of that?"

"Yes, I am."

"And he was allowed an appeal. Are you also aware of that?"

"Yes, I am."

"He's been given every opportunity."

"He's not guilty."

"You say."

"Yes, sir, I say."

"I'm sorry, young woman, there just isn't anything I can do to help you."

Anna nodded. She thought for a moment of saying something dramatic — some accusation against the justice system—but suddenly she felt very, very weary.

O
n the morning of January 6, at exactly 6:00 A.M., in the cold stone shadowy room where such things took place, Tall Tree was hanged by the neck until he was pronounced dead.

At the time, Anna was in the back pew of a Catholic church, attending early mass.

It was raining when she got out but she didn't notice it. She knew where she was going and what she was going to do. A little rain wasn't going to deter her.

"Why, Anna," Mrs. Wydmore said. "What're you doing out so early?"

"I just wondered if Trace was up yet."

"I think so. I mean, he should be. He's got to go to the office pretty soon."

"I wondered if I could see him a moment."

She hadn't seen Mrs. Wydmore since Trace's engagement had been officially announced.

"Of course," Mrs. Wydmore said.

She put Anna in the parlor and then went looking for her son in the vast and well-appointed house.

Trace appeared a few minutes later. His hair was slicked down, a clean white celluloid collar rode his clean white shirt, and he looked absolutely mystified as to what she was doing here.

"Hi, Anna. Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you, Trace."

"Any special reason you're here this morning?"

"I wanted to ask you a question."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to ask you if you'd marry me."

They were married six months later. Three nights before the wedding, Anna gave herself to Trace. She never once regretted it.

T
wo days later, on a sunny morning when the horses ran in the hills and the harvest was underway in the fields, I got the biplane fired up and ready to fly back home. There was a peace that only the sky could give me, a peace that would do for me what Claire Heston had said "riding the lightning" had done for her — made her forget. Long and sapping the months had been, from that first fight behind the casino to the impudent news coverage of Claire Heston's murders and suicide, as if truth were as simple as facts.

I was just putting on my helmet when I heard a car horn honk.

A white Ford police car was trailing rusty dust in the late-morning sunlight, coming fast on the gravel road that led to this tiny private airport.

I saw immediately who was driving and I wondered if she'd be any friendlier these days. After Perry Heston had been taken to the hospital to be treated for shock — County Attorney charges to be determined later — Cindy had acted as cold and hostile as she had after David took his life.

Then I saw the three old people in the back seat — Iron Crow and Silver Moon and their friend Lone Tree.

The Ford bumped and bounced across the grass and pulled up close to the tail of the plane.

Cindy, in crisp khaki uniform, killed the engine, hopped out, helped the three older people out and then beckoned for me to come over.

But as I started walking toward her, she left the others and walked toward me, too.

"I wanted to thank you."

"No need," I said.

"I was kind of a bitch again, wasn't I?"

I smiled. "Kind of, I guess."

"I wish I had PMS. Maybe I could explain my dark side that way."

She touched my arm lightly. "When I saw Claire Heston there . . . All I could think of was David. You know, the two of them." She squinted in the sunlight. "I wish I was better at explaining myself."

"You're doing fine."

"So you'll accept my apology?"

"Hell yes, why wouldn't I?"

Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

"I had fun that night. I mean, we actually fit together pretty well, don't we?"

"You noticed that, too, huh?"

We looked at each other a long moment and then she said, "Lone Tree, their friend who's terrified of flying . . ."

"Yeah?"

"She wants to give it a try. You have time?"

"Why not?"

"You'll really have to go easy, Payne. She's more scared than Iron Crow and Silver Moon were put together."

"I'll treat her like she was my own grandmother."

She grinned and slid her arm around my waist. It felt good there, warm and strong and friendly.

I took Lone Tree up that morning, and indeed treated her very much the way I would have my own grandmother, and then I fired up the bird for myself and was off.

For a time I thought of Claire and David and the two hardscrabble Indian sisters who'd kidnapped Linda Prine.

But then I didn't think of any of it because the clouds were sufficient unto my needs, as was the sun and wind and sky, and the rolling land of Iowa below.