by A. T. Butler
He could do this. He was doing this. He was doing it all on his own. It was taking longer, and was more of a sacrifice than he had anticipated, but he wasn’t about to quit.
Harvesting the apples from the entire orchard took him right up until the deadline. There was a small flurry of snowflakes during the final afternoon as he lugged bushel after bushel back to the shed. His fingers were growing numb as he clutched the baskets. It was too hard for him to grasp the apples with gloves on, so he had gone without.
That final evening, he stumbled home cold, sore and miserable but exhilarated. He had done it. He had set his goal and gone to every length necessary to accomplish it. His mother had been so surprised and pleased by his gift to her that every blister, sore muscle and pre-dawn wake-up call had been worth it.
Jacob had never forgotten that fall. He didn’t ever undertake such a commitment at his family’s orchard again, but once was enough. Through this he learned early that he could do anything he set his mind to doing. No matter what the obstacles, if he was persistent and focused, he would succeed.
Since becoming a bounty hunter, there was a time in every case where Jacob began to doubt that he would be able to apprehend the criminal, but that doubt never lasted long. He always had a wealth of tools and resources at his disposal, and he always knew that he could out-work, out-shoot or out-smart his opponent.
This time, however, trying to find the evidence to exonerate a jailed boy, simply based on a hunch he had, Jacob was losing hope. Maybe he had backed the wrong horse.
The sun was climbing in the sky and the streets of Tucson were filling with citizens traveling to visit friends or treat themselves to a meal out or just bask in the winter sun. After trying to politely elbow his way past one too many bodies, Jacob finally gave up and stepped into the dirt alongside the wooden boardwalk. He had to get to the marshal’s office as soon as possible.
As he burst through the door of the office, panting slightly from his run, Jacob found the marshal standing behind his desk.
“I think I know who robbed the telegraph office,” Jacob blurted out. “I just need more time.”
The marshal looked at him and shook his head sadly.
“I’m sorry, Payne,” the marshal said. “But Wilbourne has already been transferred to the courthouse.”
“What?” the bounty hunter exclaimed. “I thought— I still have several hours. You can’t do this. He’s innocent!”
“Jacob.” The marshal spoke softly, kindly. Using Jacob’s first name took the bounty hunter by surprise, but also prompted him to listen more carefully. “It’s Christmas Eve. The judge is here now, and we can’t very well ask him to delay hearing the case just because you have a hunch.”
“But …” Jacob stammered. “I just need … I just need a little more time.”
Santos shook his head. “I’ll see what I can do. If I can get Wilbourne to be the last case on the docket that should give you maybe two hours. Maybe. But, I gotta say, Payne … I don’t know what you think you’re going to find in the next couple hours that you haven’t already. Especially seeing as you’re supposed to be at the Everlasting Hope Church.”
Jacob groaned. It was not that he had forgotten he had committed to the nativity play for Bonnie and Pastor Ambrose. It was just that … he thought he would have more time. How could he possibly find the irrefutable proof before Benjamin’s case was heard?
One thing at a time.
Jacob rotated his shoulder, the one that had been dislocated. The injury that had slowed him down on his path toward earning his wage. Slowed, but not stopped.
That’s what this was. An obstacle. Not a wall.
He could figure this out. He just had to start. One apple at a time. One clue at a time.
The first thing Jacob had to do was get over to the other side of Tucson. Knowing that Benjamin had already been transferred to the courthouse meant there was nothing else here for him. Except …
“Marshal, has the evidence in Benjamin’s case been transferred?”
“Not yet.” Santos gestured to a wooden crate on his desk. “That’s what I came back for. All the evidence for his and the other cases is here.”
“Can I just have second look at that cigarette and button?” Jacob asked. “I have a thought, but don’t want to be accusing the wrong party if I can help it.”
He hadn’t intended for that last sentence to come out so biting, but he couldn’t help himself. Jacob was frustrated. But the marshal complied graciously, handing over two separate unsealed envelopes.
One held a cigarette butt. Jacob opened it, and took a whiff. He recognized the tobacco, but so many men smoked that kind he wasn’t sure it would lead anywhere.
The second envelope held the button. Pulling it out—careful not to drop it—Jacob turned it over in his fingers. The first thing that struck him was the fact that this was clearly a worn button. He couldn’t even imagine the possibility that this was a new button that Benjamin had stolen from the general store, which was the marshal’s current hypothesis.
If anything, this piece of evidence pointed away from Benjamin Wilbourne.
But Jacob didn’t have time for that argument with the marshal. He still had to gather more evidence.
“You’re off to the courthouse now?”
The marshal nodded.
“Stall. As long as you can.”
Chapter Twelve
Jacob Payne ran. He was already late to the Everlasting Hope Church. Promising Bonnie that he would take on the role of Joseph in the Nativity play had been easy when all he wanted was to please her, when he was sure that it would be easy to discover who had robbed the telegraph office and he could free Benjamin Wilbourne.
The one thing he kept holding on to through all of his hurrying was the fact that Coleman would also be at the church. Jacob could keep an eye on him at the very least. The man was a good enough Christian to volunteer to be part of the Nativity play, but that didn’t mean that Jacob’s gut feeling about him was going to go away.
Jacob burst through the wide front doors of the church and strode down the aisle into the dim light. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed Bonnie on the left side of the altar, sitting and studiously sewing buttons on to a wide swath of fabric that was draped across her lap.
He looked around at the rest of the participants.
Clifford Pierce sat in the front row of the church, dressed in one of the rough cloth robes that Bonnie had been sewing all week. On one side sat Coleman in another robe, with several other men and women gathered around. Pierce was holding court, telling a story that made his listeners laugh and gasp alternately.
Jacob knew it was likely some embellished tale of one of the outlaws the man had captured. He had captured them, after all, so Jacob tried not to begrudge him the attention he so loved.
But he wouldn’t be joining that group.
Instead, he went straight to where Bonnie sat.
“Still at it?” he asked.
She smiled up at him, but didn’t cease in her sewing. “Mrs. Cicero’s oldest boy got the flu, so I’ve been on my own in this. I should have just enough time to finish this last costume before everyone starts arriving, though.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“No. Thank you. But you can put your own costume on.” She indicated with a nod to a robe draped over a nearby chair. “That one’s yours.”
“I can do that,” he assured her.
With the robe on over his clothes, Jacob couldn’t easily check the time. He would just have to bide his time. He almost wished the Nativity play was starting soon so he would have something to distract himself with, rather than think about Benjamin Wilbourne being brought up before a judge.
“That’s strange,” Bonnie mumbled to herself. “I wonder if Mr. Coleman knows he’s missing a button.”
Jacob’s head whipped around. “What did you say?”
She blinked up at him, confused, as though surprised that she had said something out loud. �
�Oh, it’s nothing. I just noticed that Mr. Coleman’s vest here is missing a button and wondered if he realized it. I’d sew on a replacement if I had one handy, but I don’t think I have time to run to the general store.”
“Can I see?”
She handed him the vest without comment and moved on to the next costume in her pile. Jacob held the garment close to his face—he wanted to be sure he wasn’t mistaken. There were three other buttons still on the vest, all matching and all worn evenly, as one would expect if they rubbed against the inside of a coat regularly. Though Jacob didn’t have the original button found at the crime scene, he was positive that it matched the ones he saw here. The color, the shape, and even the way they were worn and used.
This was it. This was the last piece of evidence he needed to poke a hole in what the marshal was presenting as the case against Wilbourne.
“Bonnie,” he said quietly. “You’re absolutely sure this vest belongs to Andrew Coleman.”
“Yes. He took it off and kind of threw it at me when I handed him the costume he’s wearing now.” She frowned, but didn’t complain more.
The disrespect of throwing it at someone was just one more offense piled on top of others. Coleman needed to be in that jail cell where Benjamin had been the last couple days.
The bounty hunter had to get to the courthouse as soon as possible.
As soon as he looked up and began to make his way to the door, he felt a hand on his arm. Pastor Ambrose was tugging him toward the altar.
“It’s your cue, Mr. Payne,” the pastor hissed at him. “Go out there and be Joseph.”
The vest was pulled from his hands, and his Mary—Mrs. Rogers, the schoolteacher—linked her arm in his. Jacob felt a gentle nudge from behind as he was thrust up the steps of the altar where he would pretend to be present for the birth of Jesus Christ.
While God’s son was saving mankind, all Jacob could think about was how he could save one fifteen-year-old boy.
Chapter Thirteen
The Nativity play seemed to go on forever. Jacob writhed inside at the fact that minutes were ticking by. He had more evidence that might get Benjamin Wilbourne declared not guilty, but it might not be enough. And even if it was enough, it wasn’t at the court for his case. It wasn’t added into evidence.
Every moment that went by, as Jacob knelt with head bowed by the manger he had built, the bounty hunter prayed over and over that he would somehow have enough time to save the poor kid.
“I proclaim to you good news that brings great joy to all the people…”
One of the young men whose family lived in Tucson had been assigned the part of the archangel Gabriel. As Jacob watched him recite his lines to the kneeling shepherd, Jacob was struck by how much he reminded him of Benjamin. The same height and thinness. The same slightly awkward limbs that he hadn’t yet grown into.
Jacob tried to keep his focus on the boy—the angel—and the story of Christmas. If he so much as looked at the men dressed as shepherds, he might lose his temper. Thinking about Coleman not only robbing an honest man, but then letting an innocent child sit in a jail cell for his crimes all while pretending to be a Christian was more than Jacob could reasonably stand.
He closed his eyes; the congregation would think that he was praying.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Pastor Ambrose led everyone in a prayer: for the church, for the town, and for the year ahead. Jacob silently added his own petition for Benjamin Wilbourne. He didn’t linger a second longer than he needed to, however, certain that God knew what was in his heart.
Even as he was still stepping off the altar, Jacob was pulling the robe up over his head. Bonnie was ready to meet him, handing him both his own coat and the vest borrowed from Coleman. He handed her the robe in turn, the smooth handoff of two people who would make a wonderful team.
“It’s here,” Bonnie whispered, showing him the spot where the vest was missing a button. “I’ll do what I can to distract him, but you need to go.”
He nodded, kissing her cheek gratefully with no thought to who could see them or what they would think. He didn’t know what he would have done without this woman, and he intended to tell her so.
Just as soon as he saved Benjamin Wilbourne’s life.
The agony of having to be polite as he delicately squeezed between groups of churchgoers all standing in the aisles and gossiping, greeting each other, hugging and wishing each other a merry Christmas was excruciating. It took him far longer than he had hoped to reach the front door of the church and head out into the cold evening.
All around him the night was silent, the sun just about set and the chill numbed his cheeks and ears. Jacob was just about to set off at a run, when he was abruptly halted.
A young woman stepped directly into Jacob’s path. He couldn’t pass her without moving her aside and being rude, and he had never done such a thing to a young woman.
“I’m sorry, I need—”
“Mr. Payne?” she interrupted.
Jacob took a second look at this girl who knew his name. He frowned. “Elizabeth? Miss Towers? Can I—? Is everything all right? Is your family okay?” Jacob hated to be sidetracked but he immediately assumed the worst when Miss Towers would come find him.
“They’re fine. Well, all but Benjamin. I need to tell you something.”
Anything else out of her mouth would have resulted in a quick dismissal from Jacob, but by simply mentioning Benjamin’s name she had his attention.
“Something that you should have told the marshal earlier, maybe?”
He peered down into her face but she kept her eyes lowered. She nodded.
“Well I was just on my way to the courthouse to see if I could maybe convince the judge that Benjamin didn’t rob the telegraph office. I don’t have a whole lot to go on, though. Is what you have to tell me going to help with that?”
She nodded.
Jacob sighed. Elizabeth Towers was very clearly petrified, and he didn’t want to spook her. But at the same time, he should have been at the courthouse hours ago. He looked around, but there was nowhere convenient for him to offer her a seat. He couldn’t take this child to a saloon or even the cafe by herself. The only option he had was to stand here on the boardwalk, as the sun was setting, and coax her into trusting him.
He checked his pocket watch again and stifled a groan.
“Miss Towers, I know you care about Benjamin, don’t you? I appreciate how much you’ve already done to help the case, and I’m sure he does too. Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what you’d like to say? I’m sure whatever it is will be helpful.”
“I …” She spoke so quietly Jacob almost didn’t hear her. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“You? Why would you get in trouble? You’re such a nice little girl, Miss Towers. I’m sure whatever you have to tell me is pertinent to the case. I know it’s scary, but can you tell me? Can you be brave, like Benjamin?”
She squared her shoulders and looked Jacob in the eye again.
“I will. It’s this.” Another deep breath. “Benjamin was with me when the telegraph office was being robbed. I can speak to his whereabouts that afternoon.”
Jacob frowned. “Well … Miss Towers that’s wonderful, but I don’t understand why you didn’t tell the marshal this earlier. This could change everything. You’re sure it was that day? You’re absolutely positive?”
She nodded. “I didn’t tell the marshal because I was afraid Benjamin would get in trouble for what we were talking about. But now he’s in even worse trouble and I know now I shouldn’t have hid this. I’ll tell the truth if this ever happens again. You see, Mr. Payne, Benjamin was … Well, rather I was fighting with him. He’s been a member of our family for as long as I can remember, but now that we’re getting older, my folks are talking about me marrying and moving on to some exciting life and Benjamin isn’t going to get any of the same privileges I get. It’s been weighing on my mind quite a bit these last few months and I
wanted to do something about it.
“So, that afternoon in question I had gone to the stock room where he was sorting boxes and I offered him some of my small savings. It’s not a lot … but I think it would be enough for a train ticket somewhere and a little to get him started. I earn a small wage for doing sewing for some of the men who come into our shop. I’ve been saving up for my trousseau, but I know even with that little pittance I have more than Benjamin does. He’s been such a big part of my life, I couldn’t let him just … I would miss him, but I didn’t want him to be stuck in that store for the rest of his life. Not if he wanted to be somewhere else.
“I walked in there and I told him what I was offering him and he …” She sighed, despondent. “He almost yelled at me. He probably would have if my parents hadn’t been just on the other side of the door. I didn’t mean to insult him. I hadn’t thought of it as charity, but he was so mad. I offended him by even offering it. I probably offended him by even having the thought that he needed my money. And … I don’t think Benjamin has ever spoken to me that way. I probably deserved it. I meant well, but I didn’t think about what such an offer would do to his masculine pride.
“It was a big fight, Mr. Payne. I’ve never seen him that angry at anyone. And I cried, and then he was sorry. He almost hugged me, but we both knew that would make Pa angry. It was just … It was a mess all around.
“And I didn’t tell the marshal, because I didn’t want Benjamin to get in trouble for yelling at me. I didn’t want the marshal to know Benjamin had a reason to want cash. I just thought if we told him that he was in the back room all afternoon that would be enough. But I guess it’s not.”
“No, it’s not,” Jacob agreed softly. “And Elizabeth, I know it’s hard, but I may need you to tell this story to the judge.”
She shook her head frantically. “No. I couldn’t. Oh, please, Mr. Payne. Please, just tell him yourself. I’ll get my father to sign something that says it’s true if that will help. I’d rather tell him than a judge.”