by Joyce Alec
Her entire body went cold, the small smile sliding from her face as she stared into Hettie’s face.
“A man brought him into town, claiming that he’d been trying to shoot him,” Hettie gasped, her eyes wide with fright. “Said something about the night Adler died, that he’d been following him and saw him shoot Adler down from his horse.”
“But that’s not true,” Jessie breathed, struggling to find the words. “It can’t be true. I know it ain’t the truth.”
Hettie closed her eyes for a moment, gathering in her breath. “Didn’t you just come from talking to the sheriff?”
“I did,” Jessie replied hoarsely. “I… I had to tell him something, but I was praying the sheriff wouldn’t…” A little unsteady, she let go of Hettie’s hand and went to sit down. “What man is it you’re talking about?”
“A man called David Peters,” Hettie replied with a helpless lift of her shoulders. “I’ve never seen him before. He was at Adler’s farm.”
Jessie blinked once, twice, and then shook her head. She didn’t remember ever meeting a man by that name and was certain that Martin had never mentioned him.
“David Peters says that Martin attacked him,” Hettie continued, her voice trembling. “I can’t imagine it, Jessie, I really can’t, but that’s what this man’s saying.”
Panic began to cloud Jessie’s mind. She had no idea who this man was or why he was saying these things about Martin, but one thing held steady within her. She didn’t for a moment believe that Martin could ever attack another man; she didn’t believe that he was the one responsible for Adler’s death. No, it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true, and there was nothing anyone could say to make her believe it.
“Why did Martin attack him?” she asked, her fingers gripping tightly together. “Not that I think he did, but what’s this man saying was the reason behind it?”
Hettie sank into a chair opposite Jessie, her lips pressing together for just a moment. “He’s saying that Martin was the one who shot Adler. Says he saw it happen, and then followed him back to the ranch.”
Jessie shook her head. “That ain’t right.”
“Then,” Hettie continued, “he says he saw Martin find you and make you throw away the gun he’d used to kill Adler. Says that you didn’t know what you were doing. He’s been telling everyone about it, stood right in front of the sheriff’s office and shouted it at the top of his lungs.”
Every bit of hope seemed to die in Jessie’s heart. David Peters, whoever he was, must have followed Martin that night, for whatever reason. He wouldn’t have known about the gun otherwise.
“Martin can’t even defend himself,” Hettie whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “The poor man’s half dead by all appearances.”
Jessie caught her breath. “What do you mean?”
Hettie shook her head sadly. “He’s lying on the bed in the cell, Jessie. David Peters says he was forced to defend himself, so he hit Martin on the back of the head. Twice.”
Jessie’s whole body trembled.
“I can’t understand how that’s self-defense, to hit a man twice,” Hettie fretted, her expression troubled. “The blood…” Closing her eyes, she drew in a long, steadying breath. “The doctor’s with him now.”
Jessie tried to get to her feet but found her legs were shaking. “I have to go see him,” she said, trying to stand but finding herself too weak to even put one foot in front of the other. “I need to see him.” The memory of their kiss pierced her mind, wrenching her heart from her chest. “He’s not the guilty one, Hettie. I can’t believe it.”
“I don’t believe it either,” Hettie agreed, managing to get up from her chair to help Jessie to her feet. “Listen, you need to gather your strength before the sheriff comes. He’ll want to talk to you. Then, once Martin’s conscious, we can go see him together.”
It wasn’t what Jessie wanted to do, but she saw that she had very little choice. The urge to go to him, to be by his side when he woke, was proof that she still believed him. A sense of urgency coursed through her, almost pushing her towards the door. For the first time, she let herself feel every ounce of her affection for him, the emotion that had begun to grow so quickly in her heart. She didn’t want to lose him; she didn’t want him to bear the blame for something that she knew he hadn’t done.
“I have to find this David Peters,” she said determinedly, shaking off Hettie’s calming hand. “I gotta talk to him and find out what he knows. I don’t know a thing about him, or why he’s decided to come forward now… so many weeks later.” She narrowed her eyes, her jaw set, steadying her resolve as strength began to creep back into her bones, filling her with determination. “I’m going to make sure Martin doesn’t bear the blame for this, Hettie. One way or the other, I’m going to prove it.”
10
“I don’t much like this.”
Jessie looked across at Reuben as they walked towards the farmhouse, Etta by his side. She was grateful for their company, knowing that she’d have never found the courage to come out here by herself.
“I gotta talk to the man,” she said firmly, having found out from the sheriff that David Peters was the man working on her farm, having been allowed to stay by Martin himself. “I can’t understand what he’s doing, going about town telling lies about Martin and putting the blame on his shoulders.” She looked up at Reuben, seeing the way his jaw was set. “You don’t think Martin killed Adler, do you?”
“No,” Reuben replied, as Etta shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” Jessie stated grimly. After seeing how Martin was earlier that afternoon, she’d been plagued with the need to do something to prove that Martin wasn’t the man responsible. How she was meant to do that, she didn’t know, but talking to David Peters was the first step.
She couldn’t get rid of the image from her mind: Martin lying there on the narrow bed on one side of the jail cell, blood matting his hair. The doctor hadn’t let her come in to see him but had said that she could come back this evening, once he was finished cleaning him up and had stopped the bleeding. Martin had been unconscious still, lying entirely motionless, his skin pale and one hand hanging loosely over the side of the bed.
Her stomach had twisted with fear, terrified that she’d be left without him, that he might succumb to his injuries. The sheriff had reassured her, seeing her upset, and had told her almost everything she’d wanted to know.
He’d been completely honest with her. The fact that there hadn’t been any sign of the cows Martin had supposedly been looking for that night had made the sheriff question what Martin’s real reason was for being out on the plain. To hear that he had told Jessie to throw away the gun, even though she’d insisted that he’d done that to help abate her terrible fear, had been another issue. When she’d asked the sheriff why Martin had then asked her to find it and bring it back to the sheriff, he’d shrugged and said he wasn’t quite sure about that yet but that he’d ask Martin himself once he’d woken up. When Jessie had asked about David Peters, the sheriff had sighed and told her the very same as what Hettie had said. David Peters had come riding into town with Martin slung across his horse’s back, claiming that he’d had to hit him in self-defense. When asked why, Peters said he’d told Martin that he couldn’t hide the truth any longer.
The sheriff explained that was why Martin had let David Peters stay on at the farm. It was blackmail, of sorts. David Peters got to keep his place as the overseer and, in return, would keep quiet about what he’d seen that night. As much as the sheriff didn’t want to believe it, he had to agree that things looked bad for Martin. So bad that he’d put him in the jail cell until he came to.
Tears pricked at Jessie’s eyes, but she blinked them back furiously, determined not to let herself show any sign of weakness. This David Peters, whoever he was, had kept this knowledge to himself for whatever reason, and she wasn’t about to believe that Martin had done that sort of shady deal just to keep himself out of jail. No matt
er that all the evidence seemed to point to Martin, no matter how much it seemed that Martin was the one who’d done it all, she refused to let herself even consider it.
Martin wasn’t the kind of man who would take the life of another man and then blackmail and cheat his way out of lawfulness. She knew him. She knew he was kind, protective, and had a strong sense of justice. When it had come to it, he’d told her to take the gun to the sheriff and to tell him the truth about what had happened. That had been when she’d first seen the battle running through him, aware that if they did that, then there might be consequences for them both. He’d not shirked away from that, telling her that he’d not done right by hiding it from the sheriff in the first place. Was that the kind of man who would shoot another man and let his blood soak into the sand? No, she refused to believe it.
She stopped just outside the farmhouse, the sun sinking below the horizon just behind her. Holding out her arm, she stopped Reuben and Etta.
“Let me talk to David Peters alone,” she said resolutely. “We were careful coming to the farm, and I’m hoping he didn’t see us arrive. If he thinks I’m on my own, then he might speak a bit more freely.”
“You can’t,” Etta whispered, grasping her arm with a good deal of worry in her eyes. “We don’t know anything about this man.”
Jessie looked up at Reuben and saw his eyes narrow just a little, as though he were considering everything. “Please,” she implored. “I think this might help Martin.”
“I’ll be right outside,” Reuben replied gruffly, taking his wife’s hand. “We’ll make sure to listen to everything you say.”
Nodding, Jessie drew in a steadying breath, lifted her chin, and walked up the three wooden steps before opening the door and walking straight inside.
It took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust, but as she did so, she saw a tall, thin man walking into the main part of the house from the bedroom. He frowned, his arms folding across his chest as he walked towards her.
“Something I can do for you, miss?”
He doesn’t know who I am, Jessie thought to herself, a little surprised.
“David Peters?” she asked in as firm a voice as she could. He nodded, his dark eyes glinting a little dangerously. “I’m guessing you don’t know who I am. I’m Jessie Jackson, and this here is my property.”
David Peters said nothing for a moment, his eyes running over the length of her as a small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Is that so?” he murmured, lifting one brow. “I never got a proper look at you, Mrs. Jackson.”
For a moment, Jessie was flung back into that night she’d been in this very room, struggling to keep her wits about her as the men had talked and laughed, jeering at her and mocking her. She’d been so weak then, unable to do anything to protect herself, until, somehow, she’d found the strength to escape from him.
She had grown stronger since that night, discovering that she could stand up for herself and could forge a new life here in Copper Peaks. She’d seen Adler’s lies for what they were, realizing that all he’d been trying to do was intimidate and frighten her into doing everything that he asked without question. The townsfolk didn’t hate her; they didn’t whisper about her as though she were some sort of outcast. That had been nothing more than cruelty on Adler’s part.
Jessie wasn’t going to let another man think that she was weak.
“Might I ask why you’re still here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “I gave Mr. Armstrong strict instructions to have every man here gone.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Didn’t he tell you? He asked me to stay on.”
“I doubt that,” she replied firmly, not letting her eyes drift from his for a single moment and finding herself more courageous than she’d expected.
David Peters tipped his head, looking at her with those strange, malevolent eyes of his. “Oh, but it’s true, Mrs. Jackson. Haven’t you heard? That Martin Armstrong’s not the man you think him. He asked me to stay in exchange for my silence, but I just couldn’t keep it in any longer. I saw what he did that night.” His eyes narrowed. “You ought to be thanking me, Mrs. Jackson.”
A sharp retort came to Jessie’s lips, but she managed to stop herself just in time. “I think, Mr. Peters, that it’s best that you leave my farm,” she replied, trying to keep her voice calm. “I told Mr. Armstrong that I wanted everyone gone from my farm—and that includes you.”
His eyes narrowed all the more, his mouth a tight, angry line. “I saved you, Mrs. Jackson, from that man. You think he’s wonderful, I’m guessing, but you couldn’t be more wrong. He’s nothing more than a murderer.”
She felt anger burst through her but held it in with an effort. “I’ll leave that for the sheriff to decide,” she said coldly.
“All those lies!” the man shouted, waving his arms about him. “Telling you that he was out looking for his cows and then never being able to take them back to his ranch! Why do you still trust him, Mrs. Jackson? He ain’t the man you think.”
A shiver of awareness ran down her spine. As far as she knew, no one aside from herself, Martin, and the sheriff knew about Martin’s supposed reason for being out on the plain that night. So how did David Peters know? Either Martin had told him—which she didn’t think would have happened—or there was something more to what David Peters was saying. Holding onto that thought carefully and feeling a small sense of victory, she looked back at him and put a small, cool smile on her face. “I don’t care about any of that, Mr. Peters,” she replied steadily. “Truth is, I’m to be moving my things down here and renting out that house in town. I’m planning on being here tomorrow at first light. I can make sure to get you a room at the saloon for tomorrow night. I’ll pay for it, of course, since Mr. Armstrong seems to have given you the idea that you’d be staying on here.”
David Peters took a step towards her, his shoulders rising with obvious anger. “Now, see here, Mrs. Jackson. I’m not gonna be treated this way. I know you’re awfully fond of Mr. Armstrong, but that’s no reason to believe that I’m the one in the wrong.”
She lifted her chin and looked directly into his eyes, ignoring the swirl of fear in her belly and praying that Reuben and Etta would stay where they were. “I don’t care what you think, Mr. Peters, or what you were expecting. I want you gone from my farmhouse by the morning. As I said, I’ll make sure to get you a room at the saloon for a night or two, until you can work out where you’re going next.” Seeing his face darken with rage, she forced a small smile onto her face. “We ain’t gonna have any trouble here now, are we? I’d hate to have to go fetch the sheriff.”
He glowered at her but seemed to shrink just a little. “No, we ain’t,” he spat, turning away from her. “I’ll be gone by the morning.”
“I’m glad we understand each other,” Jessie replied, still keeping her smile on her face despite the thundering of her heart. “I’ll expect the house to be clean enough, too, Mr. Peters. Else I’ll not be paying for your room at the saloon.”
She didn’t wait to hear his response, forcing herself to turn around and walk out of the house before he had a chance to say a word. The door slammed shut behind her and she hurried down the steps, glad that the growing darkness would hide her as she walked away. The last few rays of red and pink in the sky merged with the shadows, and soon Jessie was surrounded in near darkness.
Walking around to the side of the barn where they’d left their horses, Jessie waited patiently for Etta and Reuben to return. The house could only just be seen from where she stood, her awareness of being entirely alone sending shivers all through her.
She didn’t know how long she waited, but standing there in the dark, Jessie became quite certain of one thing. There was something about David Peters that she didn’t like, something that she was sure he was hiding. It was understandable that he might be mad that she was asking him to leave, but the sheer fury she’d seen in his eyes had shaken her. If she hadn’t known that Reuben and Etta were outside,
then most likely, she’d never have had the courage to stand up to him in the way that she had.
“We’re here.”
Jessie shrieked, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“Sorry,” Etta murmured, one hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We had to be careful coming back.”
“That man’s in a right temper,” Reuben said uneasily, only the outline of his features visible in the gloom. “He’s not planning on leaving that place in any sort of fit state, Jessie.”
Jessie nodded, her eyes trained on where a dim light now shone in the darkness. “When I was talking to him, I sure did get the feeling that there’s something about him that he’s hiding. And then he mentioned something about Martin telling me he’d gone out to find his cows in the middle of the night, which I’m sure Martin didn’t ever tell him.”
Reuben blew out his breath, shaking his head. “You’re right about that, Jessie. I don’t reckon Martin ever said anything to him about that. I had the same feeling when I first met David Peters.” He shrugged. “Not that feelings much matter, but I didn’t much like him.”
“So what are we gonna do?” Etta asked, her voice caught by the wind as she spoke. “Stay here? Head on back to town?”
“Stay here,” Jessie replied firmly. “I want to see what David Peters is going to do.”
“He might not do anything,” Reuben said darkly. “Maybe he’s already done everything he wanted by going to the sheriff about Martin.”
Jessie shook her head. “I don’t reckon so. He sure wasn’t expecting me to tell him to leave the farm. I think he thought I’d be so grateful to him, or so broken-hearted from what the sheriff had done to Martin, that I’d be holed up in town for a bit.” She let herself smile, feeling a fire in her belly that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t believe he’ll just do as I’ve asked him, not when he obviously wants to stay about these parts.”
Etta put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Look! There!”
Jessie caught her breath, praying that the horses would be silent. The door to the farmhouse flew open and David Peters came clattering down the steps. Carrying a lantern in his hand, he made his way towards the barn, his dark mutterings slowly coming towards them.