Fugitive hearts, p.25
Fugitive Hearts, page 25
A knock came at door to the suite.
Gideon Branch waited out in the hall until Frank motioned for him to come inside. He removed his hat. “How’s she doin’?”
“Not good.” Frank allowed the admission. “That doctor says it looks like she got grazed. But she won’t wake up.”
“Sorry to hear. Got Byrne in jail. And the boy.”
Frank paced the length of the sitting room. The outlaw behind bars was good news, but Billy? He should’ve thought to bring him along. Though he couldn’t be certain Billy wouldn’t run, and he couldn’t concentrate on both Claire and the boy. It was probably best that Billy remained in jail for now. She’d have a fit when she regained consciousness. If she regained consciousness.
Regret and fear made a pretzel out of Frank’s insides. “Did you arrest Bond?”
“Haven’t yet. There’s disagreement over what happened.”
Not as far as Frank was concerned. “Does he deny he shot her?
“He admits he fired the gun. Says he was aiming at the outlaw. Miz Daines got in the way. Others around him say the same.”
Frank glared at his deputy. “I don’t give a damn what anybody says. He shot Claire. We’re locking him up. If you don’t feel comfortable doing it, I will.”
Gideon raised his hand. “Slow down, boss. You go after Bond and somebody else’ll get hurt. Don’t want to have to put you in jail.”
Annoyed, Frank made a sharp turn. “You wouldn’t.”
The deputy’s visage became stern. “Yes suh, I would. If you gunned a man down ’cause you got your back up. The reason don’t matter. That’s the law.”
“You’re quoting the law to somebody who knows it better than you.”
“Knowing it and abidin’ by it are two different things. You’re not thinkin’ straight. Your mind is in there.” Gideon gestured with his chin at the closed bedroom door.
No, not just his mind. His heart was in there.
Frank longed to horsewhip Bond before he strangled him. Even though he knew from experience that getting revenge wouldn’t ease his pain or help Claire. “I won’t let him get away with shooting her.”
“Wasn’t suggesting it. But I don’t see how creatin’ a scene is gonna help.”
Sound reasoning. Gideon’s hallmark. Whenever possible, the former soldier thought things through before he reacted. Once he did act, he did so decisively and without flinching. Frank appreciated both traits.
For years, he’d struggled to master his raging emotions and thought he’d succeeded, until Claire had come into his life. He had to restore control in order to do his job and protect her in the process.
He passed by the desk, dragged his fingers over the smooth surface. The last time he’d been here, papers covered it. He checked the drawers. Empty.
Claire wouldn’t have removed all their personal papers before she left. This was Bond’s doing. No telling what had been taken, but there could be only one reason why. The papers on the desk or inside might’ve contained incriminating evidence.
“They’ve cleared out the desk.”
“They?”
“The Bonds.” Frank shut the top drawer with a bang. “They managed to get Mr. Daines to sign over the hotel, then moved in while Claire was gone. Looks like they went through the desk and took out all the papers.”
Frank quickly updated his deputy on his suspicions about William Bond targeting Claire.
Gideon nodded thoughtfully. “You suppose he thinks the hotel makes lots of money? I hear the railroad’s in trouble.”
“A hotel won’t save the railroad.”
“Mm, true. What about his wife?”
“What about her?”
“You think she’s involved?”
“She’s bound to be. I can’t imagine him doing anything without her.”
Gideon’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Sho’nough. I’m bettin’ she got a whip hid away somewhere.”
Gertrude Bond wielding a whip. It fit. Bond kowtowed to his wife. He acted boastful and domineering when he was with other men, but around her he turned docile as a lap dog. She was cruel. Maybe more so than her husband. But Frank had nothing on her, and he didn’t see how harassing a woman would get him anywhere.
“We’ll worry about her later. For now, find Bond and lock him up. Put him in the overflow cell. The one in the railroad supply building. It’s hot in there. He might start talking quicker if he gets to sweating.”
“If you say so.” The deputy replaced his hat, looking solemn. “The judge wants to know if you’re agreeable to movin’ ahead with charges against the boy for killin’ Mr. Daines.”
Billy’s series of rash actions had led to a string of events which had ended up with Claire being shot. Now, she fought for her life. The idea of taking a strap to him was tempting, though Claire wouldn’t stand for it. Not if she were awake. She’d risked everything—her reputation, her livelihood, and her life—to protect a child that wasn’t even hers. But she’d taken him into her heart, and like a mother bear would fight tooth and nail to save him.
She was in no position to help him now.
Frank heaved a troubled sigh. Responsibility for what happened next rested on his shoulders. He could try to delay the hearing, except the judge had already indicated he wanted a speedy closure. Delay only postposed Billy’s already uncertain future and kept him in jail, where he didn’t belong. He needed a home. Family. Most of all, he needed his mother.
“Tell the judge I want to talk to him before he makes a decision.”
Chapter 30
When Judge Jessup wasn’t handing down harsh sentences, he spent his time socializing with former soldiers and reliving the glory days when he’d served as attaché to a desk general.
He hadn’t slogged through the mud and seen disease take more men than bullets, or stepped over bodies strewn across a bloody field, or chased down and executed rebel guerillas. There was no glory in that.
Frank had spent ten years trying to forget those memories and escape the nightmares. But if reminiscing would help him gain the judge’s support, he’d do it.
He approached the table where Jessup sat surrounded by old settlers.
“Pull up a chair, Frank. Have you joined the GAR yet?” Jessup asked.
“Been meaning to. I’ll get the paperwork done this week.”
The judge spent the next hour drumming up support for the Grand Army of the Republic, a fraternal organization for Union veterans. He jawed about his intention to run for a senate seat and promised to improve veterans’ benefits.
He knew his audience. Most of the local settlers were Union veterans.
Two hours and many drinks later, the settlers left to go home to their wives. Only the judge and Frank remained. He figured it was time to broach the subject he’d come to discuss. Sure as hell wasn’t the GAR or politics.
The judge was a stickler for upholding the law. His toughness on criminals was part of his campaign. Billy had one thing going for him. His youth.
“Are you sure you won’t have a drink, Frank?” The judge lifted the bottle and motioned toward Frank’s empty glass.
“Not tonight.” Frank moved the glass to one side. He leaned his arms on the table. He did want a drink. Badly. But he’d decided to refrain, as Claire had so delicately put it. In fact, he’d told the Almighty he’d give up anything in exchange for her life. Whiskey seemed a small price to pay.
“I believe I’m done, too.” The judge set the bottle down and finished what was left in his glass. “Full docket tomorrow, including the hearing for that young man you’ve got locked up.”
Jessup’s remark opened the opportunity Frank had been looking for all evening. “I thought we might have a word about Billy.”
“Now, you know I can’t render a decision here in the saloon.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to. Wasn’t sure if you knew Billy’s age. He’s twelve.”
No senate hopeful wanted on his record that he’d sent a child to the gallows. Frank didn’t point it out. Jessup was smart. He’d get the idea without being browbeaten.
The judge leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced over his chest, appearing to mull it over. “I didn’t realize he was that young. He’s an orphan, I understand.”
There were some who espoused rounding up homeless children to put them into institutions. Hopefully, Jessup wasn’t one of them.
“Mrs. Daines plans to adopt him. She’s taught him his letters and his numbers, has worked wonders with him. He hasn’t had an easy life. But if you talk to the men at the rail yard, they’ll tell you he’s a hard worker. I can vouch for him, too. He’s not dangerous. He’s not a killer.”
“He admits he shot and killed a man.”
“To protect the woman he considers his mother.” Frank went on to explain how ill Frederick Daines had been, how he’d attacked Claire in a deranged state, and Billy had come to her rescue. Frank kept to the truth, yet tried to show Billy in the best light possible.
Jessup listened quietly.
When Frank finished, he waited. The familiar aromas of whiskey and cigar smoke triggered a gut-deep longing. He stared at his empty glass.
He could resist.
The serving girl passed by the table. He waved her away. A few stragglers at the bar craned their necks to look over, as if hoping Jessup would resume buying drinks—he purchased top-rate liquor. Frank signaled them with a slight shake of his head while the judge sat in thoughtful silence.
“Mrs. Daines lied to protect the boy.”
“Like any mother would do,” Frank pointed out.
Jessup poured another glass of whiskey. Motioned to Frank’s glass, which Frank moved over and allowed to be filled. He didn’t have to drink it.
“Trying to influence a judge is against the law,” Jessup pointed out.
“Just giving you the facts.” Frank held the glass. He lightly tapped his finger against the side, fighting the urge to gulp it down.
“I’m not keen to put a child on trial.”
Good, the judge was looking for a way out.
“Didn’t think you were. No reason it has to go that far.”
Jessup nodded, took a sip of whiskey. “An unfortunate accident.”
That would be the ruling. Frank released a pent-up breath.
“Who’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble again?”
“Mrs. Daines, once she gets better. She’ll keep a close eye on him.”
Frank held his breath as Jessup took another drink. He set down his glass, his expression set.
“Not a good solution, Frank. That boy is half grown. He’s proved he’s too wild for her to handle alone. If he gets into trouble again, she’ll cover up for him.”
Frank heaved a sigh. He suspected the judge might say that, but he had to try.
“There’s a home for destitute orphans. He could go there,” Jessup suggested.
“Billy needs a real home,” Frank said with conviction. “He’ll run away if you stick him in an orphanage.”
The judge’s mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown. “Based on what I’ve heard, he’s likely to run away from anywhere I put him.”
“Not if you put him with someone who can control him.” Frank prepared the groundwork for the suggestion that Billy be placed with Henry Stevens. He’d been the one to foist the boy onto Claire in the first place. If Stevens and his wife took Billy in, Claire might get to see him occasionally. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the alternative.
“You’re saying you’ll take responsibility for him.”
Jessup’s assumption took Frank aback. He hadn’t suggested he would take Billy.
How the hell did he know whether Henry Stevens would? It was a risky bet, and Jessup wasn’t the mood to debate. He’d landed on a solution. This could be done and over with tonight.
Frank reassessed. He had the means to support a family. Land. Money he’d saved up that would be good for nothing else. He could provide a better life for Billy, and, at the same time, give Claire the opportunity to be his mother.
He’d sworn he would give up anything so she could live. This seemed a sign, somehow, that God didn’t want him to abandon Claire and Billy. The thought took hold and wouldn’t let go. He could protect Claire, she would have Billy, and she’d get a husband who loved her with the deal.
He ignored the glass of whiskey. The longing subsided the moment he’d made his decision. “That’s right. I’ll take responsibility.”
“You sure you can manage a troublesome boy along with your duties?”
His job. That put a damper on the idea. He knew—had known all along—he couldn’t bring Claire and Billy into his life without risking their safety, not to mention their happiness and wellbeing. The dangers would always be there, gathering over their heads like storm clouds.
What about the farm?
The soft whisper in his head sounded an awful lot like his mother. She would say something like that. She’d wanted him to return home and take over. He hadn’t been able to bear being there before because the place reminded him of his father’s useless death. He’d been too angry, too filled up with bitterness and the need for revenge. All that had been burned out of him some time ago. The idea of returning to the farm held appeal, especially if it meant he’d get Claire in the bargain.
He wouldn’t have to chase outlaws and wrestle drunks or wonder when vengeful bullet might find him. He could take her and Billy home and they’d be safe there. Or safer than they would be if he remained a lawman.
Nothing held him here outside of a sense of duty, and some misguided idea that he had to remain a lawman to make Sarah’s death purposeful. Nothing he did could erase his mistakes or change the past. In fact, Sarah would tell him what would make her sacrifice worthwhile would be helping a woman and child who needed him.
“I’ve got land up near Marais Des Cygnes. I’ll take him there. Turn him into a farmer.”
The judge sat back as if Frank’s statement had truly surprised him. “You’d give up your badge?”
“It’s time I settled down. Let someone else do this job.” The town could find another sheriff. Gideon would make a darn good one, and he was ready for more responsibility.
Frank set the full glass aside and leaned back in his chair. The decision lifted a load off his shoulders. He felt easier than he had in years, which told him he’d done the right thing.
The judge’s stern visage softened and his lips pulled into a knowing smile. “You’d do that on account of an orphan?”
Frank hadn’t fooled him. He had to talk to Claire and gain her agreement before he told the rest of the world the good news. “He’s a good kid. Just needs more discipline.”
“That’s right, Frank, and you’re the man for the job.” Jessup drained his glass and set it down with a thump. He slapped Frank’s shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have Mr. Moore draw up the proper papers. We’ll make it legal before I leave town.”
He strolled out of the saloon, whistling, in a good mood, as if he’d gotten something he wanted. Maybe he had. This arrangement relieved him of having to decide Billy’s fate and removed the potential for future problems.
Yep. Frank had known all along Jessup was a smart man.
Chapter 31
Claire awoke with a splitting headache. She took even breaths, keeping her eyes closed, and waited to see if her stomach would remain calm. Nothing had stayed down, except for a little tea, and her mind was a jumble. She’d even imagined her brother beside her, stroking her hair. Something he’d never done that she could recall. And Lucy stood behind him with a baby.
At the sound of a whimper, her eyes popped open. The light stabbed into her head. She moaned in pain and raised her arm to block the rays.
“Close the drapes, Henry. The sunlight bothers her.”
Claire peeked from beneath her arm at the woman next her bed, who swayed while she cradled a fretful infant. Lucy Forbes? No, that wasn’t right. Lucy Stevens. She and Henry were married now, and that must be their baby daughter.
A frilly white bonnet concealed the child’s face.
Rustling from across the room drew Claire’s attention to a man at the window. The light outlined his tall, lean form for a moment before he drew the heavy drapes closed.
The room grew blessedly dim.
She couldn’t remember when Henry and Lucy had arrived. It hurt too much to think. She struggled to sit up—a dizzying effort—and put her hand to her head. Felt a bandage. “What…what happened?
Her brother slipped extra pillows behind her. “You were shot.”
“Shot?” Images flashed through her mind. Frederick descending into another fit of madness, choking her. Billy with a pistol in his trembling hands. Her throat closed with fear. Had Billy shot her? No, he’d shot Frederick. Her husband was dead and Billy was…
Oh God, why couldn’t she remember?
“Where is he?” Frightened, she reached out to her brother. “Where’s Billy?”
“He’s safe. You needn’t worry.” Henry pulled a chair next to the bed, sat down and leaned over to grasp her hand.
The waves of anxiety receded. Billy was safe. Henry had come back.
Wonderingly, she touched her beloved brother’s face. He looked much the same as the last time she’d seen him. His dark hair neatly parted and combed to one side. No beard covered his face—or his smile. “Henry, you’re really here.”
“Of course I am.” He captured her hand and squeezed. “You should’ve sent for me sooner.” His words reproached her, but his dark eyes shone with warmth and concern.
“I didn’t want to cause any inconvenience.”
His lips twisted in a wry expression. “You have never been inconvenient.”
Oh, that was a lie. She had been very inconvenient when her elder brother had been thrust into the role of guardian at age fourteen, and when she’d married a man unable to support her. Henry had been forced to come to her aid. Now, he’d rushed home to rescue her from another debacle.
Memories floated randomly. It was difficult to arrange a clear picture. She recalled her confession. Rueful, she squeezed her brother’s hand. “You may change your mind when you find out what I’ve done.”
