Robbie and Taron

by Abagail Eldan

  Ander’s face reddened. “I heard you. You think he murdered Stewart?”

  “I didn’t say that. I only wondered why he didn’t tell me what y’all were accused of.”

  “What we’re accused of?” Ander’s words echoed throughout the enclosure.

  Taron frowned at his brother and then his gaze dropped to the dirty floor of the cell.

  Ander went back to the cot, slumping down, his back against the wall. “All women are the same.”

  Taron raised his gaze and gave his brother a hard look that did not soften when he turned to her. “Believe what you want.”

  She hesitated. “I have to go.” She wanted to kiss him goodbye but not in front of these men. He moved to his cot, leaving her standing alone.

  “I’ll be back,” she said. Neither brother acknowledged her words. Her voice came out hoarsely when she called out. “Let me out. Please.”

  The deputy must have been nearby listening. He came with a key, and she stepped out. She gave her husband one last look, tears stinging her eyes, before hurrying away.

  Brother James, looking uncomfortable, waited for her near the sheriff’s desk, seated in a straight-back chair. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet, relief flooding his face. She didn’t stop but rushed by, out of the office, and onto the street, her heart still pounding.

  “Wait!” Brother James called, catching up with her. “What’s wrong?”

  She turned to face him. “What’s wrong? Everything’s wrong! My husband is accused of murder and ...” Her voice cracked and a tear ran down her face. She angrily brushed it away.

  “And what?” Brother James asked quietly.

  “He’s angry.”

  Brother James took her by the arm and led her a few feet down the street and into the alleyway. “Do you love your husband?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “Then always stand by him ... always.”

  She tilted her chin up. “Of course I will. I must help him. The problem is how. Who could have murdered Mr. Stewart?”

  “Do you know that sheriff? Those deputies?”

  “No, I’ve never seen them before yesterday.”

  “They work for the Stewarts. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were hiding something. Heck, one of them could have killed Edward Stewart on Saturday.”

  “Saturday?”

  “Yes, Edward Stewart was killed on Saturday.”

  “Oh.” Taron had been with her all day Saturday. All day and all night. She smoothed down the sides of her dress.

  She wanted to run back into the jail and make things right with Taron. But the sheriff probably wouldn’t allow it.

  First things first. And the first thing was to get Papa’s money before someone else did.

  Brother James watched her, and when she glanced in his direction, he gave an encouraging half-smile. “Have an idea?”

  “No, but there’s something I must do.”

  “What? Will you allow me to help you?”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Yes. I’ll need your help. I’ve got to go back to the cabin to get some things.”

  “I suppose we could get Walter since he has a wagon, and it seems dry enough.”

  “I’ll be glad to pay him for his troubles.”

  “Walter is a good man, maybe a little rough around the edges. He could use the money. When do you want to go?”

  “The sooner, the better. And thank you. You’ve been so kind, Brother James.”

  “It’s time someone stopped the sheriff and his men from harassing folks. And I don’t believe for one minute your husband or his brother committed a crime of any sort.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I was friends with their father. And he was one of the finest men I’ve ever met.” He offered his arm, and she took it and they set off to look for Walter.

  Chapter Ten

  As it turned out, when they arrived at the river, Robbie allowed Brother James to ride up the mountain alone while she stayed in the wagon with Walter. She still felt ill, and Walter had stopped the wagon twice for her to vomit.

  Robbie told Brother James where to find her carpetbag. She and Walter remained silent. Her thoughts were on Mama and Papa as she studied the old covered wagon, already showing the ravages of time. It had only been a short while ago she had left it there. Things decayed so quickly.

  After a bit, she climbed from the wagon, and searched for Mama and Papa’s graves. Just like the wagon, time had already taken a toll, almost obliterating the mounds. The melted snow and wind had formed rivulets in the mounds of dirt. A few more months and they’d be all but gone. If she still had money when all of this was over, she’d buy a headstone for each.

  The minutes clicked by slowly. She trailed down to the river and took a seat on the rock jutting out over the river, the rock where she’d first seen Taron, splashing into the water on his pinto, scooping up her brush, their hands touching when he’d handed it to her. And he’d tipped his hat, flashing his devastating smile.

  She stirred uneasily, the ache too much for her to handle. She slid off the rock and headed back to Walter. He jumped down and helped her back to her seat.

  “I was beginning to wonder where you’d gotten off to,” he said.

  “I walked down to the river.”

  “’Tis a beautiful place ... nice spot for a house, good grazing by the river — could have a nice little ranch right here.”

  “It is nice.” She fell silent. She’d never live here, she knew in her bones, probably never come here again except to visit her parents’ graves.

  “Brother James should be getting back,” Walter said.

  And a few minutes later, he rode out of the trees, with the carpetbag and with another larger bag, held awkwardly. He rode up to the wagon and handed the carpetbag to her. She thanked him and immediately opened it. Walter looked at her with shining eyes. When she caught his eye, red crept up the back of his neck, and he averted his face. She closed the bag, planning to examine the contents later.

  “While I was at the cabin, I thought you might want some more things.” Brother James dismounted and laid the other bag in the back of the wagon.

  “Thank you, Brother James. That was very thoughtful of you,” she said.

  “And I reckon we need to head on back. Y’all ready?”

  “Whenever y’all are,” Walter said. The air was cold, and Walter handed her the quilt he kept in the back.

  She thanked him and wrapped the blanket around her although it smelled musty and faintly of livestock, as if he’d used as a horse blanket. Still, the blanket provided enough warmth to still her shivers.

  Brother James rode ahead of them, setting the pace. Walter clicked his tongue and slapped the backs of the horses with his rein, turning their heads toward Feeble Creek.

  To keep her mind off her nausea, Robbie decided to talk to Walter. Maybe he could provide her with some answers. “What do you know about the murder my husband is accused of, Walter?”

  Walter’s eyes widened in alarm. “Not much.”

  “Surely you know something. Feeble Creek is such a small town.”

  He cast her a sideways glance and grimaced a bit before he spoke. “Edward Stewart was shot down Saturday — no one knows ’zactly when. He was last seen by his pa at around five that afternoon, and his body was found around nine that night. Reckon he was killed ’tween five and nine.”

  “Who found his body?”

  He shrugged his shoulders but didn’t speak.

  “Walter, I’m only trying to help my husband. I promise I won’t repeat anything you say — unless you give me your permission.”

  “I reckon you got a right to know, if anyone does. It was his pa who found the body. Then he sends one of his hired hands for the sheriff.”

  “Had anything happened before Stewart was killed?”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “I mean, did he have an argument with someone or some kind of trouble?”

  “Nah. He kept to h
isself mostly.”

  That was a dead end. She tried again. “Do you know of anyone who had a motive to kill him?”

  “A motive?”

  “A reason ... was someone holding a grudge.”

  “Well, lots of people didn’t like the Stewarts. Mainly his pa they don’t like. Edward just went along with whatever his pa wanted. Didn’t have much to say for hisself ... didn’t have much gumption at all. ’Cept when he was drinking. Then he’d talk about his pa.”

  “Really? That must have angered his father.”

  “His pa gave him down the road that very day ...”

  “Saturday? The day he was killed?”

  “Yes, ma’am. His pa caught him doing something — don’t rightly know what. Anyways, Edward took off to the saloon. Can’t much blame him for that. Everyone gets a little thirsty now and then. His pa caught him there, drug him out by his ear.” He chuckled softly, but there was sympathy in his eyes.

  “It must have been embarrassing,” Robbie said.

  “Guess so. Some folks heard them yelling at each other when they got home.”

  “At what time?”

  “I dunno. Maybe four?”

  “And then what happened? Did Edward storm off again?”

  Walter scratched his chin. “So happens, I was over there that afternoon. Didn’t see Mr. Edward — jus heard ’em.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  Walter’s ears turned red. “Looking for work. Mr. Stewart didn’t have nuthing for me.”

  “So, exactly what happened? Did you go up and knock on the door? Did you hear them talking?”

  “Why are you so interested in what I was adoing? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  She frowned at him. “My husband is in jail. If he didn’t kill Edward, then who did?”

  His eyes narrowed as he fully faced her. “You’re not athinking I did it, are you?”

  “No, Walter. But someone besides Taron did. He was with me all day Saturday and all night. He couldn’t have done it.”

  He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Oh. Well, I was awondering if it could have been your husband. He was mighty mad at the Stewarts ... not that I’m ablaming him.”

  “He was with me and could not have killed anyone. Anything you can tell me would help.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and scratched his hairy chin again. “Alrighty then ... Let’s see. I drove over there on the wagon. Didn’t see nobody about but heard shouting. I snuck ... I mean, I went ’round to the back.”

  “Why did you go to the back?”

  “Didn’t figure Mr. Stewart would want me coming in the front. So I went ’round to the back, looked about a bit. By that time, there weren’t no more shouting.”

  “Could you hear what they were saying?”

  “I told you they weren’t shouting no more.”

  “I mean before you went around to the back.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Did you hear anything else?”

  He pressed his lips together, shaking his head, and then stopped. “Well, I did hear something, didn’t pay much attention to it. Some kind of popping sound, like a firecracker. Thought some kids had set it off. There was a couple of kids running down the road when I climbed out of the wagon.”

  “And then the yelling stopped? When you heard the pop?”

  “Now that you mentioned it, yep. The yelling stopped right after that popping.” His eyes widened, and he turned to gape at her. “You’re athinking Mr. Stewart killed his son, ain’t you?”

  She nodded. “That’s what it sounds like. And then what happened?”

  Walter coughed and spit before he answered. “Mr. Stewart opened the back door, gave a start when he saw me there.” He leaned closer to her. “I hadn’t made it to the door yet. I was looking in the window.”

  The smell of his unwashed body mixed with a pungent smell of tobacco juice was making her more nauseated, and she was relieved when he pulled away. Probably bouncing up and down in a wagon wasn’t helping either. “So he opened the door and saw you there?”

  “Yeah. And I started toward him, and he held up a hand, stepped out and shut the door behind him. ‘What d’ya want, Walter?’ he asked me. And I told him I was alooking for work, any odd job. He said he didn’t have nuthing for me to do, and he was going out, and I had to leave.”

  “And did you leave?”

  “Yes, ma’am. When Mr. Stewart tells you to jump, you ask him how high.”

  She remained in thought for a moment before she spoke again. “Don’t tell anyone what you just told me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They fell quiet, Walter staring over the backs of the horses, occasionally slapping their backs with the reins. The quilt had slipped from Robbie’s shoulders and she readjusted it.

  After a few minutes, she spoke again. “Would you be willing to testify to this in court?”

  His face became a mass of furrows. “What? How’s that gonna help? It’ll only make Mr. Stewart mad at me and won’t nobody listen to me anyways.”

  She clenched her fists together. “They will. Believe me, they will. I’ll figure out a way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Robbie had to put her plan into action quickly. When they arrived at the house, she rushed upstairs to wash. There really wasn’t much use in changing clothes if she did what she planned. She dried her hands, and someone knocked on her door.

  “I got your bags here,” Brother James said.

  She opened the door. “Thank you! Put them on the bed for now. I deeply appreciate all you’ve done. All your kindness.”

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  She smoothed down the sides of her dress and clasped her hands together. “Taron and Ander have a lawyer, don’t they?”

  “Yes. It’s Mr. Bradford.”

  “Where is he located?”

  “His offices are near the jail.”

  “I should have told Walter to wait. I need to get over there.”

  “I don’t think Walter has gone far. I saw him going around to the back probably to see if Libby would invite him in for dinner.”

  “Oh.” She’d completely forgotten about dinner. “What time is it?”

  He pulled out his pocket watch. “Five. Why?”

  “Will that give me enough time to see the lawyer before dinner?”

  “It should.”

  “And then I ...” She fell silent. It was probably best not to tell Brother James.

  “Yes, Mrs. Babbitt?”

  “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll get Walter to take me to the lawyer.”

  “I can go with you.”

  “Thank you for your kind offer, but this I need to do myself.”

  “If you’re sure ...”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sure.”

  “Then I’ll go round up Walter.”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Brother James left, and she turned her attention to the bags on the bed. She reached for the carpetbag and dumped it out. The money, tied up with twine, caught her eye first. She quickly counted it and then put it back in the bag. Next, she turned to the larger bag lying next to it and dumped out its contents. Thank goodness Brother James had gotten Papa’s medical bag. She rummaged through it, pulling out two or three things, and added them to her carpetbag. Did she need anything else? She grabbed two more instruments and added them also. She closed her eyes for a moment, saying a silent prayer and then going over what she needed to do, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything.

  She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she’d figure it out as she went along.

  She went downstairs to see if Brother James had found Walter.

  Walter was in the kitchen with Libby, eating a slice of cake and drinking a glass of fresh milk. He wiped the milk mustache off with the back of his hand. “Brother James said you were awanting to see the lawyer. You ready to go, Miz Babbitt?”

  When she nodded her he
ad, he stuffed the rest of the cake in his mouth, getting a little choked until he washed it down with milk.

  “Would you like any cake?” Libby asked.

  “I’d love some later. I want to get to the lawyer’s office before he closes.”

  Libby eyed her anxiously. “Are you feeling well enough to go, after your long trip today?”

  “I’m a little tired, but I’ll be fine. Walter, are you ready?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.” He’d poured another glass of milk and held it up. “I’ll bring it back. Is that okay, Miss Libby?”

  “Yes. That’s fine.”

  “Thank ye kindly.” He grabbed a few crumbs of cake on his way out.

  “How are you going to drive the horses with a glass of milk in your hands?” Robbie asked as they headed out the door.

  “You can hold it for me, can’t you? I mean, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  He indicated her carpetbag. “Do you want me to carry that for you?”

  “No. It’s not heavy.”

  Walter set the glass of milk on the seat before he helped her up. She picked it up while he climbed in.

  He took the glass from her and took a long swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand again.

  “Walter, I want you to go in with me to see Mr. Bradford, to tell him your story.”

  “I dunno about that.” He finished the milk and handed her the glass.

  “You’ll be doing me a big favor.”

  “What if Mr. Stewart finds out?”

  “Well, we’ll deal with Mr. Stewart when we need to.”

  He cast her a sideways glance. “I guess I can do it. Won’t do no good, though.”

  “You never know.”

  When they reached the lawyer’s office, down only a few feet from the jail, Walter pulled the horses to a halt and jumped from the wagon to help her down.

  “I’ll tend to the horses and then be in,” he said.

  She nodded and walked to the door and hesitated. Then she rapped on it briskly and opened it.

  The office was small with one desk facing the door. A slender, young man, seated behind it, immediately jumped to his feet and came around the desk to greet her.