The big guy who had rolled out first stood up and began throwing punches at the tall man who’d rushed after him. Both men began knocking each other’s faces in, until Jim and Theodore jumped on the tall man who shook them off by landing a few elbows in their guts and kicks to their thighs.
The big gutted man, after missing a swing, growled and pulled out a gun from his belt. Several women screamed and Sheriff Ben pulled out his pistol aiming it at the attacker he recognized now as Big Roy.
“Put the gun down, Roy,” Ben said sharply.
The tall man laughed and flipped back his coat revealing silver metal resting in a leather holster. “Don’t you think it is a bit early for a dual?” he laughed.
“Gentlemen, let’s be civilized,” Ben said slowly, grateful that onlookers had moved to the other side of the street. If a bullet flew, he sure did not want an innocent bystander taking the hit.
Big Roy curled his lips over yellow teeth. “This man needs to know his place, even if it’s beneath the ground.”
“If either of you shoot, I will take you down.” Ben cocked his gun at Big Roy, but was looking at the tall man wondering where he had seen him before.
“Listen to the good Sheriff, Big Roy.” The stranger chuckled. “Bedsides, trying to shoot me won’t work. I’m too fast.”
Roy glared. “I already got my hand on the trigger. You’d have to be Billy the Kid to put a bullet in me.”
“I’ve hit my target at a moving train while on horseback, I might add,” he winked. “Lower the gun before I shame you in front of the entire town.”
“You the one gonna be shamed you stupid big—”
A shot rang out and Roy yelped, dropping his gun and then clutching his hand. Ben gasped and almost froze in surprise. He was an experienced sheriff and had barely seen this stranger’s hand fly to his gun and shoot Roy’s own weapon out of his hand.
“You are a lucky man, Roy,” he spun his pistol around his finger and placed it back in its holster. “Had you been aiming correctly with your arm center at your shoulder, that bullet would be lodged in you.”
Ben furrowed his eyebrows. The cocky laugh, the loose way he held his body. He knew this man. Only, the last time he had seen him, the scoundrel was waiting at the end of a church aisle.
“Cade Walker,” Ben said, ignoring the howls of Big Roy.
Cade looked over and gave a nonchalant shrug. “You got me, Sheriff.”
There were two cells in the jail. Big Roy was placed in the one occupied with a sleeping man who had too much pomade in his hair.
“From Colorado Springs,” Ben explained when Big Roy eyed the nice clothing. “Came here to fish and got too friendly with the postman’s daughter. He’s in here for his own protection.”
Big Roy shrugged and went into the cell, stretching his massive body on the cot. “I need a doctor to look at my hand,” he reminded Sheriff Ben who shoved Cade into the other cell. “I have already sent for him, Roy.” He slammed the door and locked it. “Bedsides, you’ll live.” He began to turn away but stopped and looked hard at Cade who had lowered himself to the floor and was resting his back on the wall.
“Where did you learn to draw that quickly? I know you worked as a detective along the railroads, but you would’ve had to be trained to be that quick.”
Cade chuckled. “I knew from the time I saw my father put on pristine leather gloves that I wanted my hands calloused and skilled. I practiced my whole life—with a slingshot at first.”
“And the fighting? That was not just instinct.”
Cade cocked an eyebrow. “Champion designated hitter and boxer at Stanford. I loved baseball, but was better skilled in boxing. I even thought about going to the Olympics, but changed my mind, though I still keep up on my skills.”
“And the quick draw?”
Cade gave a lazy smile, “Pure talent.”
Ben removed his hat. “What are you doing in Tall Pine?”
Cade sighed. “I don’t really know.”
“You here to cause trouble for Rose?”
Cade laughed wryly and once again rolled his head to look at the sheriff. “I think I have done enough of that, Sheriff Ben. Don’t you?”
Ben was silent as Cade looked away and closed his eyes. A thought entered his head, one that he squelched right away. He needed some coffee. Fatigue must be putting terrible ideas into his head. Cade Walker would be a terrible deputy.
Twenty-One
Jonathan was trying to concentrate on the wound of Big Roy. It was hard to concentrate, however, with Cade Walker staring at him intently though the bars of the cell.
“She loved you, you know,” Cade suddenly said acrimoniously. “She said she loved you like a brother, but I think that changed as time went on.”
Jonathan glanced over and then began bandaging Roy’s hand. “I put some soothing ointment on it, which will also help it heal at a faster rate. Just keep it clean.”
Cade stood up and sauntered to the wall of bars separating them. He rested his arms against the iron over his head. “She was always comparing me to you. Bringing up all the times you two did things together, told me what a good man you were, a kind man.”
Jonathan slowly stood up looking straightforward and ignoring the icy stare caught in his peripheral vision. “Is there a purpose to your words, Mr. Walker?”
“It’s leading to a question.” He paused, the arrogance fading to a worried crease in his forehead. “Will you pursue her?”
This time Jonathan did look over. “Is that why you’re here? To win back your wife?”
Cade’s jaw stiffened. “You never did like me, did you, Jonathan?”
“I thought Rose deserved better,” he said blatantly. “In concern to your first question, no, I do not plan on pursuing Rose. I have never led her to believe I feel more than a deep friendship. Unlike some men, I do not proclaim to be one way while secretly being another.”
Cade smiled with a trace of melancholy flickering in his eyes. “Is that what you think of me? What Rose thinks?”
Jonathan picked up his bag. “I cannot speak for Rose.” The doctor nodded and turned his back on Cade passing the sheriff who was walking in with a pressed vest and slick hair.
“Thank you, Jonathan.” Ben bid the doctor good-bye and glared at the chuckling Big Roy. “What are you laughing at, Roy?”
“Cade Walker?” Roy wiped his nose. “The hero who saved Tall Pine. The man who stopped the ranches and farms from being covered in steel tracks.” He snorted. “This be Cade Walker and ’lil miss perfect Rose cheated on him with a black man.”
The iron bars shook as Cade clenched them with white knuckled hands. “Watch what you say or—”
“Or what?” Roy spit on the ground. “You going to bend those bars and strangle me?”
Cade growled. “Test my patience and you’ll see.”
Ben walked over to Roy’s cell and closed the door. “Spit on my floor again, Roy, and you’ll be facing more than pulling a gun on a man. More than that, I won’t have gossip being spread about a lady like Rose.”
Roy let out an apathetic grunt. “There was a whole street watching us. You know one of them is gonna recognize this dandy and spread the word around.”
Ben didn’t hear Cade’s response to be being called a dandy. He stroked his eyebrow thinking of the indubitable words of Roy. Word would spread quickly, and already people were passing by the jail looking in before turning to their companion in whispers. He needed to get Cade out of here, out of town, if possible. Sitting here or in the hotel would only ignite more gossip that could hurt Rose.
“You two keep quiet,” he snapped, heading out again. Who could he ask? Who could he fetch that would keep Cade’s arrival secret until things blew over. He did not have much time to think; his wife was waiting for him to head over to the Hughs’ place. There was only one name that came to mind, and he hoped that in asking he would not break a friendship.
Jeffries was glad that the Castles had left early and were
not around when a message was sent for Jeffries to fetch Cade. Clark would have wanted to confront Cade. Mrs. Castle would have been worried, and Miss Rose—she did not deserve to know her husband was sitting in jail after shooting the trigger finger off of a cocked gun. Jeffries walked in, immediately spotting Cade who sat in his cell looking like a mixture of misery and pride. The jutted jaw, the narrowed eyes that contrasted with the sagging shoulders and limp muscles: It brought back memories to Jeffries, memories that reminded him to be gentle and forgiving.
Ben stood up from his desk and walked over, extending his hand. “I am sorry about this, Jeffries.”
Jeffries nodding, throwing a sharp look at Cade over the sherriff’s shoulder. “I understand, Ben. I appreciate you being sensitive to the Castles.”
“Of course,” he nodded to Cade’s cell. “Let me get him for you.”
Ben walked over and unlocked the cell. “Any trouble in the saloon or anywhere else, Mr. Walker, and I won’t be so quick to interfere with the violence that follows a drunken man.”
Cade shrugged and stood up without argue. “Speaking of trouble, you may want to look into those two cowboy brothers—Jim and Theodore.”
Ben hid his interest, focusing on the lock, “And why do you say that?”
“Cracked teeth, shoddy clothing, but with stacks of cash and buying fine whiskey? They came into money fast and any time money is fast, it usually isn’t legal.”
Ben chuckled. “You ever thought that they are having a stroke of good luck with poker?”
Cade walked out, squinting at the twilight rays shooting through the doorway. “Poker doesn’t leave blood stains on a man’s coat. It was obvious they tried washing it out, but failed in spots.”
Ben frowned and grabbed Cade’s arm before he exited with Jeffries. “Awfully observant for the gambling drunk I arrested.”
Cade blinked and slowly removed Ben’s hand. “Being highly intelligent and making wise decisions are not always synonymous.” He gave a curt nod. “Have a pleasant evening, Sheriff.”
Cade sauntered over to Jeffries who turned and walked down the street before Cade could fully reached him.
Ben watched them go, mulling over what Cade had said. Jim and Theodore were harmless cowboys that worked whatever ranch was in need of them. What kind of trouble would ensue cash and blood? His brain raked over the scene of slaughtered cattle he’d found. He had found no trace or inclination of anyone other than horse tracks that eventually faded into the thick trees of the woods. Besides, Jim and Theodore worked on the Hugh’s ranch and Mr. Hugh paid his workers handsomely. Ben didn’t think that Jim and Theodore would jeopardize their stable jobs for the quick cash in rustling.
He looked out the door; he needed help digging up this mess. Work was taking its toll on his family and he couldn’t remember the last time he had dinner with his wife and children. Suddenly remembering that he was running late, Sheriff Ben put on his hat and headed on home to fetch his wife.
Twenty-Two
Cade was silent as he sat next to Jeffries on the wagon. His head ached and he could not help but think this was a mistake. Rose would surely find out about this, and it would only justify her choice even more. She’d been right to leave him; today proved that. He should have left the cards alone, left the whiskey alone. He had seen Rose, seen her happy and strong. That should have been enough for him. Jeffries gave a thoughtful grunt. “Has it been this bad since you married?” He nodded at Cade’s hands that were shaking even as he gripped his knees.
“What are you talking about?” Cade leaned forward clasping his hands and whirling his thumbs between his knees. The shaking only happened when he was very upset; most of the time he was successful in hiding it, but right now that was no solace.
Jeffries gave him a patronizing smile. “Is it drinking? Gambling? I can keep guessing.”
Cade shot him a withering stare. “Gambling. Of course the drinking comes with the territory.”
“As do women.” Jeffries scowled.
Cade cocked an eyebrow at his audacity, but found himself answering anyway. “I was always faithful to my wife.”
“Maybe you did not sin with your body,” Jeffries sighed, “but there are other ways of being unfaithful. Christ made that very clear. Even looking upon another woman can be unfaithful.”
Cade gave a thin smile and let out a huff. “Since when did you become a minister?”
Jeffries looked over at him with emphatic pity. “I am far from a minister, and I am far from holy, but I do know the feeling of helplessness that comes from inebriety.”
Cade inwardly flinched at the word. “It is not inebriety. I just haven’t chosen to stop.”
Jeffries went on as if Cade’s words held no bearing. “It lies to you, you know. Anything the devil uses is a lie.”
Cade shook his head. “What are you talking about, Jeffries? And why are you even speaking to me? I would think being like family to the Castles, you would have a vendetta against me.”
Jeffries jutted his jaw and squinted his eyes as he searched for an answer. “I suppose because I know what it is like to be two different people. The one with the inebriety and the one who’s the real you. Did you ever read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? It is like that. One of you has control and is a good man and the other is a slave to a habit’s will.”
Cade shifted and looked up ahead. “What do you mean ‘it lies to you?’”
Jeffries shook the reins, speeding up the horses. “It tells you that it will comfort you, that it will make you feel better. For some men it is drinking, or women, or gambling. Either way, they feel temporarily better in submitting to that habit. What the devil doesn’t tell you is that you will lose all self-respect, that you will become a slave, that you will be split in two: each side loathing the other. You think you can stop at any point, but then you lose everything. For me it was freedom and dignity: two things a black man holds dearly. For you, it was a wife and a little girl who could have been yours.”
Cade blinked. He must be tired to feel emotional. “For you?”
Jeffries looked down at his calloused hands. “Let’s just say when my daughter was murdered I—I found comfort in other things. Were it not for Clark, I would have been thrown in prison.”
“What does Mr. Castle have to do with any of this?”
Jeffries sighed. “Over twenty years ago Clark sought me out. We knew each other from when he lived in Louisiana. When he found me, I was not in the best state emotionally or spiritually, and neither was I in good standing with the law. He brought me back and saved me.”
“Why did he seek you out in the first place?” Cade asked curiously.
Jeffries smiled, the question evoking poignant memories. “That story is for another time.” He gave his shoulders a slight shake. “However, my experience has caused me to understand what it is like to have no control.”
Cade nodded, staring past the horizon, mulling over Jeffries’s words. Perhaps it was the non-threatening manner of Jeffries that allowed Cade to listen without flaring up. Whatever it was, he found that for the first time he was open.
“How did you overcome it?” Cade asked, still staring straight ahead.
“My weakness was the bottle. It made me a violent man. Liquor called the demons of bitterness and vengeance from my soul. At first it felt good. I had a lot of anger, too much anger. When I drank I felt like a true man able to express the turmoil in my soul. I would fight anyone I could, destroy things, then end up in a stupor and a mental mess. You see, we men seek comforts to calm our soul; sometimes we are not as smart as women who seek God and companionship. We find that weak. Instead we turn to bad habits, which is exactly what the devil wants. I first had to realize why I was drinking: I was angry that Camille had been taken in such a violent manner. I was angry that as a child I saw my mother treated brutally by several men and she could do nothing about it. There was so much anger built up inside of me that I finally could no longer hold it in. I tried diffu
sing it, but it only increased.” He sighed and shook his head. “Only God can heal the darkness in our soul, and so I would ask you Cade, what are your demons? What drives you to gamble?”
Cade let out a huff. “Like you said, I am not a woman. I don’t contemplate my feelings.”
“Well then, I would advise you to. Women contemplate their feelings because society forces them to suppress what they feel. As such, their only expressive outlet is thinking about what they feel. We men are allowed to express whatever we feel and not be judged for it, but then we do not know how to sort what we feel because we are too busy expressing it.”
“So that is the trick? Decipher my feelings?” Cade rolled his eyes.
Jeffries laughed. “No, I would say it is to go to God and admit you have a problem, then ask for help, ask why you have this problem. Clark and I had countless arguments about my drinking. I swore it was nothing and that I could stop whenever I wanted to. I was honest only to God.”
Cade was silent. Talk to God. Listen to God. Religious principles he knew, and though he believed in God, he did not put his belief into action. His relationship to God was enigmatic. He was ashamed to talk to God at first; it made him feel dirty. How could he bend his knees when he reeked of smoke and whiskey; when sticky perfumed women had caressed his shoulders hoping his wins would entice forbidden appetites? So he stopped. Stopped praying, stopped pondering anything religious. Then he became apathetic. When Rose seemed to have a renewed vigor in belief, it brought back the guilt which spurred more resentment against God. Were it not for God, were it not for religion, then he wouldn’t feel guilty and what he did wouldn’t be wrong.
“God doesn’t always answer,” Cade said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Rose has prayed many times for me, and it has done no good.”
“God always answers,” Jeffries countered. “Maybe not in the way we want, or with the answer we want, or even in the time we want, but he does answer. So in the meantime, I would find something to replace the gambling.”
The Ways of Heaven Page 12