Virgil glanced at Milton again then back at Trey. “Have a seat. We were talking over something and I’d like to hear your reaction.”
He grabbed a chair. “Sure.”
“What if Eric wasn’t the target? What if Jeff was the main objective all along and Eric was simply there? Or, what if someone was eliminating two enemies at once?”
Trey leaned back in his chair. “With all the things that have happened to the Tabers, they have to be targets. No one liked Eric, but who hates the Tabers?”
Milton tapped a sheet of paper on the desk. “Exactly. We’ve been trying to come up with the names of people who could have grudges against both.”
Virgil pointed at the short list of names. “I realize you have responsibilities but I wonder if you could spare us a few days.”
“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help resolve this mess before someone else is killed.”
Virgil smiled at him. “Once again the very words I’d hoped for. Since you’ve been away while I’ve been in office, you might have a new perspective on things that have happened. If you could read the back issues of the Gazette for us and make a list of events you think might be connected to this, you’d be a life saver. I mean exactly that.”
“I’ll do it. Here’s my plan. I’ve promised to teach Deborah to shoot this afternoon and that will probably take the rest of the day. Then I’ll at your beck and call.”
“Do what you have to and get to those newspaper files as soon as possible.”
Trey rode home at a gallop. He felt like a fool for setting himself up as target. He sure wasn’t as popular as the Tabers and someone was after them.
Back at home, he explained his plans to his parents and grandparents at lunch.
Deuce tapped the star with his finger. “Looks pretty good. Don’t you go and get yourself killed though. We don’t consider you disposable.”
Grandpa gazed at him thoughtfully. “You should move to the hotel for a few days. Virgil’s right and going back and forth is too dangerous.”
Mama said, “Take a suitcase with you in the buggy. Bring Deborah to our land and teach her to shoot. Have one of the hands ride your horse then he can drive the buggy back after you take her home. The less back and forth, the safer.”
Grandma nodded. “I agree. We can’t have you getting shot, Trey, but we can’t abandon our friends either, especially not that nice Deborah Taber.”
Deuce fisted his hands on either side of his plate. “Makes me want to shoot someone.”
“Papa, you can come with me to teach Deborah how to shoot. Would that make you feel better?”
Deuce shook his head. “Not really. This business is frustrating and makes me want action. I’d like to shoot the person responsible for all this trouble, stomp on him, and shoot him again.”
Trey coughed to cover a laugh but he shared his father’s frustration. “Hopefully, Virgil will take care of the killer and none of us will have to shoot him.”
“Doesn’t make me feel as good as it should.” Deuce appeared disappointed. “Oh, get on your way. If you want to, take my derringer with you for your girl.”
Trey almost protested that she wasn’t his girl. He didn’t because he hoped she was.
A few minutes later, he climbed into the buggy. “Sorry, men, if this feels like a parade but trust me, it’s called for. With you two along, I sincerely believe we’re all safe. This man is a coward who shoots when a person is alone. He’ll be in the dark or in hiding.”
Spuds Donohue sat mounted and waiting beside the buggy. “Hate that the need is here. You pay us by the month so don’t matter to me whether we’re riding with you or after cows.” He grinned in his shy manner. “Guess this duty is lots easier long as we don’t get shot.”
Mounted on Trey’s horse, Rio Ortega waited on the vehicle’s other side. “We are sorry you have so much trouble. Not the way to be welcomed home, is it?”
“Not what I had in mind, that’s for sure.” He clicked the reins.
Chapter Ten
Deborah was watching out the window when she saw Trey’s buggy. “Mama, Trey’s here. I’ll see you later.” She strode out the door.
His eyes lit up when he saw her. “You look especially pretty today.”
She couldn’t miss the shiny badge on his jacket. “You’re wearing a deputy’s badge. Are you giving up being a business tycoon and rancher?”
“Ha ha. Since I need to carry a gun for a few days, Virgil deputized me. You know he doesn’t allow anyone but lawmen to carry guns in town except in a saddle scabbard.”
She took his arm but stopped a few seconds before proceeding. When she saw him arrive, she hadn’t noticed the two mounted men. “You really do have an armed guard.”
At the buggy, he helped her inside before he introduced the men. “This big galoot is Spuds Donohue and the handsome devil is Rio Ortega. Men, this is Miss Taber.”
She smiled at each man. “Nice of you to protect us.”
Spuds appeared shy and only touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.”
Rio swept off his large Mexican-style sombrero and bowed from the waist while still in the saddle. He leaned down so low she was amazed he didn’t fall. “Señorita, it is our pleasure to protect such a beautiful lady.”
Trey winked at her when Rio couldn’t see. “We’re going to our place to have target practice. You sure you’re okay with walking on dirt in that dress?”
“Please proceed.” This was a good dress but she wanted so much to look nice for their outing.
Silly her, this wasn’t a romantic excursion. He was simply being a gentleman and helping her learn to protect herself. Just the same, he had mentioned courting and she was counting on him doing so as soon as this nightmare was finished.
She glanced around the luxurious double-seated buggy. “This is a very nice ride. Oh, do you always carry a valise or are you going on a trip?” She turned back to face forward. “Never mind, that’s none of my business.”
He grinned at her. “When I bring you back to town, I’m staying in the hotel for a few days. Virgil has something he wants me to do for him.”
She leaned against the padded leather seat and sighed. “I hope this is over soon. Jeff’s more responsive. He’s still… I guess he’s delirious but he says phrases now. I never thought him being out of his head would be encouraging, but we’re relieved.”
“How’s your father?”
Her heart broke for poor Papa. “He looks at least ten years older. Until today, I’ve been insisting Mama take a nap every day, but I don’t think Papa is sleeping much. He stays at the office where there’s a cot. A lot of the time elderly Mr. Altoff goes to stay with him. Mr. Ferguson—that’s Scott’s father—and Mr. Green take turns visiting him to cheer him, or try.”
“What’s he doing for meals?”
“As of today I’m not allowed to take him food any longer. Either Mr. Green or Mr. Ferguson will stop by to get the pack of food I made. According to Mr. Altoff, hearing I’d been shot at has apparently upset him too much for him to eat anything today.”
Trey pulled off the main road onto a ranch road and then another. “This is on our land, although you can’t see the house. If we weren’t pressed for time, I’d take you to see my folks and the house. There’s a ravine nearby where we can have target practice without endangering cattle. It’s where I learned to shoot.”
“I wondered how you’d planned to protect the wildlife.”
When he stopped the buggy, Rio and Spud dismounted and faced different ways as if scanning the area. Trey helped her from the vehicle and then pulled out his revolver. He left a rifle in the buggy.
“We’ll start with the revolver. I’m sure you’ve seen them even though you haven’t used one. You see that line of cans over there? We set that up before we came to town.”
He showed her how to hold the firearm. “Sight along the barrel and just squeeze the trigger. Keep your eyes open, by the way.”
What a ridiculous thing
for him to say. “Of course. I’m certainly not closing my eyes with a loaded gun in my hand.”
“You’d be surprised how many people new to guns point and close their eyes. Okay, are you ready?”
“I am.”
“Fire.”
The shot plowed into the ravine floor. How embarrassing. “Oops. Guess I won’t be invited to join a Wild West Show.”
“Presumably you’ll get better. I know the revolver is heavy, but you have to hold up the barrel unless you’re aiming at someone on the floor.”
“Very funny. Okay, I’ll try again.” This time the bullet went wide but closer and the right height.
“Better. I think you’re moving the barrel left when you squeeze the trigger. Let me help you hold the gun.” He braced his hands on hers.
Having his arms around her made concentrating on the targets difficult. His nearness sent warmth flowing through her being and created thoughts she had trouble pushing aside. Good heavens, she wasn’t a schoolgirl so she’d better focus.
She took a deep breath and fired. The shot hit a can. Turning toward him, she jumped up and down. “I did it, I hit the can.”
With a big sigh, she got in position for another shot. “Oh, well, I guess we did it. Still, I see what you mean. Let me try again.”
She fired and grazed a can, but it fell. “I can do better, Trey. Let me try another time.” She aimed carefully, sighting along the barrel as he’d told her. She held the gun steady, fired, and this time hit dead center.
She couldn’t keep from being elated. “Did you see that? I did it by myself this time.”
“My word, I think I’ve created a crazed gunwoman.”
She sobered when a realization occurred to her. “Of course, if I needed to fire at someone, I doubt he’d stand there long enough for me to aim carefully.”
She straightened her spine and tried to appear solemn. “I can’t help being excited and maybe a tad competitive.” She held her thumb and forefinger close together to indicate a small amount.
“I was teasing you, not criticizing.” He took the gun from her. “You wouldn’t want to carry anything this heavy in your pocket. I wanted you acquainted with firing one in case something happened and you needed to fire one belonging to someone else.”
“How would that occur?”
He appeared to mull over her question. “Say you and I were out walking and someone shot me. You could grab my revolver and defend yourself.”
“That’s a horrid thought. I don’t like that idea. Don’t even consider that taking place.”
He grinned at her. “Okay, then we won’t let it happen.”
He returned the revolver to the buggy and showed her a small gun. “We have to walk closer to the target to practice firing this. Deuce is loaning you his Remington derringer. You can see it only has two bullets so each one has to count. This little gun doesn’t have the power the revolver does so you have to be close for this to make any difference.”
She sensed her eyes widen. “How close is close?”
“I’d say twenty feet maximum. Aim where there’s no heavy clothing because the bullet usually won’t penetrate through something like an overcoat.”
“Overcoats are months away. If this isn’t solved long before then everyone in my family will be in an asylum.”
“I’m sure Virgil will wrap up this mystery within a week. But, I think your family members are made of tougher stuff than you indicate. Now, this gun is easier to fire. You see there’s a top and bottom barrel.”
“Watch.” He loaded the gun and emptied it. “Now you try.”
She took the derringer from him. “I think you moved this lever forward… Then the barrels flip open...”
She laughed. “Oh, that worked and it’s so impressive the way they fold. Now I put the bullets in here… close the gun… and lock the lever. There, teacher, how did I do?”
“Really well. Go to the head of the class. Oh, wait, you are the class.”
She sent him a saucy glance. “Listen, Mr. Pearson, do not get me cranky while I’m armed.”
His grin rewarded her. “Right, Miss Taber. To fire, you cock the hammer back part way until you hear it click. That’s going to fire the lower barrel first when you pull the trigger. Then, you cock the hammer back all the way to the second click and fire the top barrel the same way.”
“Isn’t this a clever device? Imagine the thought that went into developing a gun like this.”
“Its type’s been around since around just before the war. Another word of caution. Since you have to be close for this to be effective, don’t let someone get too close.”
She handed him the derringer as if it were a snake. “Oh, that’s frightening.”
“Some people call these a ‘gut shot gun’. That part of the body is a good place to hit.”
As if of their own volition, her hands clasped against her abdomen. “That also sounds scary. And, very painful.”
“Deborah, I’m not trying to frighten you, just make you aware.”
“I know. I never thought about shooting anyone. In fact, if someone had asked, I’d have said I couldn’t shoot a living thing, even a snake. But, if it’s the person who shot Jeff or set fire to the newspaper, I’d be able to shoot the two-legged snake. That makes me not like myself as much but it’s true.”
“And, a reasonable feeling but you’re not seeking trouble, just preparing for the worst.” He returned the gun to her. “A nice benefit to this is it’s small enough you can keep it in your pocket without the weight making you feel lopsided. Do you have a pocket in your skirt?”
“I do.” She pushed her hand into the side slit to demonstrate.
“Try this in your pocket and see how it feels.”
She accepted the derringer from him and tucked it into the folds of her skirt. She gazed down and didn’t think anyone would be able to tell the gun was there. “Odd, but not too cumbersome.”
“Now, remember that gun is loaded. It won’t fire unless you cock the hammer and then squeeze the trigger. Just the same, be careful. Promise you’ll keep it with you at all times.”
His insistence impressed on her the seriousness of her situation even more. “I will, Trey. I appreciate your father loaning me the derringer and you teaching me how to use it and your men guarding us. All the same, I hope I never need the knowledge.”
“So do I but I sure feel better knowing you’re capable of defending yourself.” He took her elbow and guided her toward the buggy. “It’s getting late and I’d better get you home before dusk.”
Chapter Eleven
Deborah hurried inside the house. “Mama, I’m back.” She went to check on her brother and her mother.
“Didn’t Trey come inside with you?”
“He would have but I sent him on his way. Two of his men were with us and they needed to be off the road before dark. Trey is staying at the hotel for a few days to help Virgil with something.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know. I hated to pry too much, Mama. I know he didn’t really have time to teach me to shoot a gun.” She pulled the derringer from her pocket. “His father loaned me this because it’s small enough for me to carry easily.”
Her mother looked at the derringer with revulsion. “I hate the thought of you having to carry a gun. I’ll be so glad when this whole incident is over and our lives are back to normal.” She looked at Jeff. “If they ever are.”
“They will be. You can see Jeff’s much better. Have faith.”
“That’s what Reverend Patrick said when he came by this afternoon. I was shocked that he approved of you learning to shoot. He said under the circumstances he believed it was for the best.”
Jeff tossed and muttered.
Deborah tuned her ear toward her brother. “What did he say, Mama? It sounded like he asked you a question.”
She went to the bed and clasped Jeff’s hand. “Jeff, shall I read to you? Would you like soup or a drink?”
“Wa… wa.
” He didn’t open his eyes and his head moved from side to side.
“Water? I’ll get you a glass of water.” She quickly poured a glass almost full and held it to his lips while her mother raised his head.
Most of the water ran out of his mouth but he managed to swallow some. Tears ran from the eyes of both women.
Mama met her gaze. “He really is getting better, isn’t he?”
“There’s no doubt, Mama. He asked for water and swallowed on his own. I can’t help believing we’ve witnessed a miracle.”
Deborah set the glass aside and dampened a rag in cool water. Gently, she rubbed her brother’s face and chapped lips. With a dry towel she dabbed at the moisture caused by his attempts to drink.
She and her mother had tried to keep cream on his lips but they were dried and cracked anyway. Frequently they had dribbled water or soup into his mouth. Dr. Ross had said they had to keep Jeff from getting too dehydrated.
He didn’t appear to wake yet when Mama reached for his hand, his fingers clasped hers.
Mama sobbed and kissed his hand. “Oh, my boy, my precious boy. I thank God you’re coming out of this.”
Deborah looked toward the door. “If only we could tell Papa. I know the news would do him a world of good.”
Her mother raised her head and sent her a stern look. “Deborah Ann Taber, don’t even think about going out. Losing you to learn Jeff is better would kill your father and me. Someone will come in the morning and we can send word.”
Deborah returned the cloth to the pan of water. “You’re right, but I worry so about Papa.”
“Let’s pray for him and for Jeff and Trey and give thanks to God for this improvement.”
***
The next morning, Trey waked early and ordered a hearty breakfast in the hotel dining room.
Berniece Jorgenson brought his food. “Nice to see you back, Mr. Pearson.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jorgenson, but I’m still just Trey.”
“Young man, you were never ‘just’ anything. You take care.” She bustled back to the kitchen where her husband Winfield Jorgenson was head chef and their son George his helper.
After he’d eaten, Trey headed for the newspaper office. He hoped he’d get a decent reception there. Mr. Taber had appeared to accept his explanation of his innocence but did he? Trey opened the door and skirted the repairs underway by Martin Taylor, the local carpenter and handyman, and his son Jonathan.
Deborah's Dilemma Page 6