Within the hour, a newly deputized posse had been formed, and when each man loaded his Colt and Winchester, filled his saddlebags full of bullets and food, and mounted his horse, they all understood it could very well end up being a long night. A few long days, for that matter.
Several of the men were holding torches, and as they grimly rode out of town, Rosie, hanging out of a second story window, exclaimed, “Look, girls! Look at their faces. So grim.”
She thought a moment. “I gist pray they get that son-of-a-bitch.”
Next to her, Isabel, new at Madam Ana’s, concurred. “Ain’t seen nothin’ like this before. Why, in other places, the sheriffs take their sweet time. This posse’s got together real quick.”
“That’s ‘cause Ellie is loved in this town,” Minnie said from the doorway, her ample chest heaving. “Ain’t nobody gonna treat her…or any of us gals that-a-way.”
* *
Two miles out, the sheriff pulled his reins up short, and held up his hand. “All right, fellas, I think we better split up here, so we can track better and cover more territory.”
He was met with numerous nods and murmurs of “good idea.”
With one quick spit, the sheriff started giving directives. “You two go there, in that direction; you two take the eastern route. You two…”
Before he could finish, Thomas spoke up. “I’d like to go with Brett off toward the southwest, if you’ve a mind to it.”
Nodding absently, the lawman made a go-ahead nod.
Brett and Thomas had been riding a mile or two when the wrangler suddenly asked, “Thomas, why southwest?”
“There’s a place where Wes and I used to go when we were younger. A place where the trails are hidden by heavy brush and woods. From there we could go to neighboring towns without my stepfather finding out. I figure Wes might well have headed there. Besides, I just wanted you and me to get first crack at capturing him and sending him back to jail, you know? We deserve that.”
Brett drew a deep sigh. “Yeah, I don’t want anyone but us to take him down.”
Thomas stared into his companion’s intense eyes and nodded slowly. “So you’re thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” When Brett nodded, he added, “So much for us both hating guns.”
“Yeah,” came out low and firm. Clicking to his horse, Brett suddenly started up, and Thomas, a second behind him, headed further southwest.
Unlike the devil’s walking stick or the hawthorne trees so prevalent in the low-lying, sunny areas, the two men were now entering a different terrain. Here, the black alder, sweet gum, and dogwood had merged together into a dense wooded area, perfect for much needed shady respites. And perfect for hiding.
A few hundred feet shy of Thomas and Wes’ childhood play spot, they could hear in the distance a brook gurgling its soft, rhythmic babble. An owl hooted and a couple of wolves throated lonely, eerie cries.
Dismounting, the men tied their horses around the first available tree trunk and cautiously proceeded into the dense shrubbery, their guns cocked, ready to fire.
Behind them, far off toward the north, the posse’s torches flickered and glowed like fireflies, as the men stretched out into a line. The brook’s babbling was growing louder, the wolf howls more distinct, as the two men closed their eyes and tilted their ears toward the heart of the forest to listen to all the sounds Thomas had grown up with. Sounds that now, if it weren’t for their mission, would certainly bring them peace.
Suddenly, another sound surfaced, an unmistakable, manmade noise.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tightening Up the Reins
The whistle––loud, resonant, slightly off key––was accompanied by a step-slide-step-slide against the soft ground.
“It’s him,” Thomas whispered, motioning his partner to follow his lead.
They flat-footed their way carefully like Indians, silent, alert, meticulous, until the sounds stopped. Much like statues, Brett and Thomas remained suspended as they eavesdropped on Wes’ unique traits. Suddenly, they heard his voice.
“Damn this leg!” he cried out to the dense woods, as the two men continued their approach.
Within minutes, the outlaw had started up again, this time accompanied by a more restrained whistle. The closer the men got to him, the more discernible and pronounced the outlaw’s odd-gaited hitch became as he kept on whistling and foraging, seemingly oblivious to them and their position.
Until Brett stepped on a fallen branch.
“Who’s there?” Wes shouted. There was a two-second pause. “Now, I ain’t gonna ask you twice!”
The owl repeated its hoo-hooing, the torches still flickered off in the distance, and Thomas stepped forward to face his childhood adversary.
“It’s me, you sorry son-of-a-bitch.” He squared his gun on Wes’ head.
“Well, if it ain’t my little sap of a brother. Come after me, did ya? All heeled up with guns, huh? Think you’re gonna turn me in?” He started snickering.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I aim to do,” Thomas answered, eye-signaling Brett to outflank the bandit.
The horse wrangler didn’t get far.
“Whoah, cowboy! Don’t come any closer.” Wes waved his gun at the wrangler. “Back off or I’ll shoot.”
Brett stalled as Wes continued. “Besides, Thomas, you ain’t got the guts to shoot me. Don’t matter you beat me that one time, wrasslin’. Don’t matter.”
“More than one time, Wes. More than one time,” Thomas answered slowly, anticipating any sudden movement.
Wes aimed his gun directly at his stepbrother’s head. “You know, I always knew it might come to this. Also knew you’d have a problem pullin’ that trigger,” he snarled, firing at Thomas, and purposely missing him by only inches.
“I got no problem pullin’ it!” Brett barked, shooting Wes’ right leg out from under him.
On the ground, Wes winced in pain. “Now, this gets me riled up. Got your pal here doin’ your dirty work, huh, Thomas? You sorry excuse for a man.”
The two men watched him hold his bloody leg, trying to stop the bleeding.
“You always thought you were better than me. So high-falutin’ and all,” he grunted. “Well, I’m glad I went to town with Cora all those years back and taught her what a real man was, and I’m glad I had a go at that perty dove back there. Glad I…”
Thomas aimed and shot at Wes’ other leg. When his brother screamed, he pulled back on the hammer and aimed again.
“You ain’t fit to live, you piece of vermin, you …” he growled.
When the Colt Peacemaker behind them popped a fast one-two-three-four-five-six times, they watched Wes’ body twitch and spasm as each bullet hit him––his chest, his shoulder, his arm, his stomach, his neck, and finally, his head.
Instantly swiveling around, both men faced a grim Cora.
“Cora!” Thomas cried.
“How did you find us?” Brett finally asked.
Her eyes gritty, her mouth in a downward curl, she looked straight at Thomas and hissed. “You don’t get to kill him. Only me.”
When she started to tremble, Thomas pulled her in close. “How did you know where to find us?” he asked gently as he stroked her hair.
“You took me here once, remember? I…” She tried to say more, but her body’s shaking had taken over.
Thomas looked down at his stepbrother. “Shoulda done that years ago.”
The owl was no longer hoo-hooing, the torches were long gone, and the body before them lay as still as a slab of mutilated beef lying on a butcher’s table.
All business, Brett sniffed once. “Gotta bring him back to town.”
“Yeah. Remember, this was self-defense, in case anyone’s asking,” Thomas added, always the detective.
* *
As soon as the threesome returned to South Benton––Brett and Cora riding their horses, Thomas on foot, holding his mare’s bit with Wes’ body dangling across her saddle––the twenty-four hour pall that had taken over th
e town instantly lifted.
Exhausted, Cora could barely see in front of her, Brett looked fierce, and Thomas called out to the small, gathering crowd, “Someone get the sheriff.”
Sheriff Whitman soon appeared. Back from a long night of scouring the plains, he met the threesome with a grin.
“Bless you,” he said simply, and took Thomas’ horse and its cargo away.
When Madam Ana’s household heard the good news, and who made it happen, Minnie, her arm around her sister, turned to her niece and announced gleefully, “Ellie, honey, here’s your mother’s first wedding present!”
“Amen to that!” the doves hurrahed, clapping heartily as Cora slowly sank down on the settee, her only thought: to crawl into bed, pull up the covers, and sleep for days.
Minnie sat down beside her. “You did good tonight, Cora.”
Close to tears, Cora nodded. Still, in spite of feeling spent, she managed, “Brett and Thomas deserve some of the credit, too.”
Minnie smiled. “Glad to hear you say that, Sis.” Then she stood up. “Drinks on the house, everyone!”
The household exploded with cheers, Ellie stayed planted in Brett’s arms, and the Pinkerton quickly bypassed all the hugs and shoulder pats to get to Cora.
As he sat down next to her, she looked up into his face and murmured, “My, oh my. That was something, wasn’t it?”
His voice turned husky. “Yes, it sure was.” He stroked the side of her face. “You were magnificent, Cora.”
Suddenly, the doves and customers were whooping it up as whisky was being freely poured and making the rounds. Pete tried several times to recite a poem, but no one was listening.
“Cora, I need to talk to you,” Thomas continued softly, his words swallowed up by the din.
“What?” she asked, dazed, only half hearing him.
“I need to talk to you. Now.”
Nodding, she motioned him toward the front porch, where once outside, they made their way over to the two rockers.
“This all right?” she asked.
“Minnie’s smokin’ chairs. You bet,” he replied, smiling for a second before turning earnest.
Inside, the festivities were going great guns. “Any excuse for a party,” Cora commented, shaking her head. She waited for Thomas to say more, but he was silent, looking pensive.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.
His sigh was deep and shaky. “Cora, God knows you’ve been hurt. I know how much you’ve been hurt.” He trailed off. Gulping once, he continued. “Honest to God, Cora, you must know I love you––have always loved you.”
She began to chew on her lip. “I guess,” she replied.
The sound of a glass breaking and screams of laughter filtered out around them.
“What I’m trying to say is, I want to marry you, Cora. I’ve always wanted that.”
She swiveled toward him, her eyes saucer sized. Always wanted that? Then why didn’t he come back to her?
“I have to return to Cheyenne right after Ellie’s wedding, and I want you…” He swallowed hard. “I want you to come with me.”
Numb, she tried to comprehend what he was saying, but her brain couldn’t quite take it in.
“Cora? What do you think?”
“Cheyenne! What would I do there? And what about Minnie? Ellie, and now Brett?” The tiniest spot of blood had surfaced on her lip from her intense biting.
“Why, Cheyenne’s an up and comin’ town, with a definite need for another Madam Ana’s, if that’s what you want. But remember that first day I came, and we explored the town? Remember you told me how the business was too much for you and Minnie? How it might be the death of you? Remember that? This could be your chance to get out from under it.”
“Wait, wait. This is all too much for me. How could I leave Ellie and Minnie?”
“Minnie could do anything she wanted, with us, of course. And Ellie? Why, good teachers are always golden––anywhere. The same with Brett. He could make a sizable living over there, training horses, doing what he does best.”
“And Pete?” she asked, her eyes dark with worry.
“Of course Pete!” His voice lowered. “What do you say?”
There was a long, long pause. “Thomas, you hurt me so much.”
“I know you’ve said that, but I don’t understand.”
She turned toward him, her face tense. “How do I know you won’t hurt me again? I can’t give you an answer right now. I just can’t,” she blurted out, rising to head for the front door.
As she strode by, he grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Do you love me?” He looked up, searching her eyes. “I need to know.”
She stared down at him, softening.
Hopeful, he repeated himself more slowly. “Do you love me, Cora?”
Her receptive mood suddenly gone, she looked away. “Right now, I’m too tired to think about it. I’ll tell you my answer before you go. For now, that’s all I have to give.” Inching her hand out from under his grasp, she slipped into the house.
Later, lying in bed, she could hear the festivities in the parlor still going strong, but that wasn’t what kept her awake. Trust Thomas? Uproot her entire life, everything she had built for herself and Minnie, for someone she wasn’t sure she could really believe in again?
She closed her eyes, trying to remember their good times together, and the way she felt in his arms. But try as she might to block out all bad thoughts, her mind kept reciting a single word: trust.
* *
Since much of the town had been invited, it had been decided that the only venue large enough to accommodate Ellie and Brett’s wedding was the town hall. Mrs. Endicott tried to create a special committee for the occasion, even venturing forth to Madam Ana’s herself one morning when the doves were sleeping it off. Disdainful, huffing and puffing up their front porch and into their vestibule with her fine feathered hat and ample bodice, she was determined to get things done ‘properly.’ But Minnie and Cora would have none of it.
“Thank you kindly, Mrs. Endicott, but she is my daughter, after all,” was Cora’s polite, slightly chilled response.
It galled her to think that these women, these entitled grande-dames, felt they could take total control anytime they wished.
She could hear Minnie’s indignant mutter, “And my niece,” as she looked the matron squarely in the eyes.
“Once again, thank you for coming today, Mrs. Endicott. We shall let you know exactly what we need in good time. Do have a pleasant afternoon.”
As she closed the front door, they could hear Mrs. Endicott’s more than audible “harrumph!” floating out toward the street, but being the gracious person she was, Cora held up a one-finger warning to Minnie. They both waited until the town’s matron disappeared around the corner before Minnie exploded with laughter.
“Now, that’ll teach her,” Cora commented as Minnie hugged her.
“Love you, little sister. Just love you to bits.”
“Back to work,” Cora answered, extricating herself gently.
Minnie stepped back and shook her head. “Now, ain’t it time to think about yourself, Cora?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Cora, this is your sister talkin’. What were you and Thomas discussin’ out on the porch the other night?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it, Minnie?”
“It sure don’t. So, tell me.”
Cora’s chest heaved a swift up and down. “He asked me to marry him, is all.”
“Is all? Why, that’s grand!”
“Is it?” Cora’s eyes moistened.
“Honey, why are you still not sure of his love?”
Cora plopped down on the settee. “I can’t explain it. All I know is I’m angry, and I don’t completely trust him. But in the end, it may just be I’ve packed ice around my heart for too long.”
“You can carry that ice around with you forever, you know. Even die with
it. Is that what you really want? To go to your grave, never being with your one true love? Bein’ with someone like that ain’t even in the cards for most people.”
“I know, I know.”
Minnie stood over her sister, tapping her right thigh with her hand, thinking.
Cora stiffened. Here comes another lecture, she thought, waiting.
But it didn’t happen. “Time to get a move-on, Sis,” Minnie remarked, clapping her hands twice. “We have a wedding to prepare for.” Turning, she almost bounded out the door toward the kitchen. “Comin’, Cora?” she called out over the shoulder.
* *
Before the special day, Ellie sought out Thomas at his hotel. “What has Brett been up to these last couple of days? He hasn’t been in the stables, and when I ask him why, he just tells me he has some things to do. Do you know what these things are, Thomas?”
Thomas shrugged, but his mysterious smile suggested otherwise.
“You two have become thick as thieves, and I’m not sure that’s such a good thing,” she laughed. Her next question was more pointed. “As a matter of fact, why haven’t you been around us lately? Everything all right with you?”
“Ask your mama,” was his short reply.
In no time at all, there was only one day left. One day of making sure the town hall had been decorated up to the gills, a job the Dolans had been more than happy to delegate to the town’s overly zealous matrons. And what a job they had accomplished. Saturday, Cora happened by, and ignoring Mrs. Endicott’s chilly demeanor, stood in the doorjamb, flabbergasted by what she saw as she surveyed the room.
A brightly colored muslin bunting banner was suspended from the balcony in repeated, swooping loops, tables had already been set up in the middle and the back of the room, with fine linen tablecloths, neatly folded and ready to put into place on the special day. Silverware and plates, donated for the occasion, had been put into baskets, to be returned to their rightful owners later on.
Corrigan’s ‘piana’ had been brought over and moved into a corner.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Endicott. You are a true inspiration,” Cora exclaimed when she saw the room.
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