“You,” Croft seethed, clutching his bleeding belly as he looked up at Clay.
“That’s right,” Clay said in a low voice, leaning over the wounded man. “Me. I warned you the last time I saw you in town that you’d die the same way you lived, if you didn’t change your ways. That someday you’d have to face someone like me, who didn’t have the self-control to stop himself from doing to you what you’ve probably done to so many women over the years.”
The man let out a ragged laugh. “And why do you think I keep coming back to this here saloon? To get a look at that pretty wife of yours.”
Clay nudged Croft’s side with his boot, and Croft bellowed in pain. “Gut wound, huh? Gee, Croft, that must hurt a lot. That’s a slow, painful way to go…isn’t it Noah?”
“Sure is.” Noah had an inkling now of why Madeline Porter turned white as a sheet when she’d spied this miserable wretch of a man.
Clay leaned down even further. “I’m just glad I get to be one of the last faces you see, before you die.” He spat on the man’s face and turned away, walking over to the man who had fired the last shot, who stood motionless, in shock.
Croft tried to get up, to lunge toward Clay, but Noah held his wrist pinned to the ground still, with his foot.
“Not so fast, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend!” Croft snapped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“No. It sounds like you have no friends in this town.”
“Let me through!” a voice said from behind. An older man pushed his way through the gathering crowd, holding a small black leather bag. “I’m a doctor.”
Sadie, who’d collapsed onto the steps of the saloon, weeping and mumbling, stood and held her arms out. “Doc! Doc Archer, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
The man veered around Sadie. “Unless you’re shot, Sadie, step aside.” He knelt beside Croft, checking his wound. Croft was fading fast, barely clinging to consciousness.
“Tell my boys to kill that varmint,” Croft muttered, closing his eyes. “And tell that man that me and the boys enjoyed his daughter, right up to the end.”
Noah felt sick at the man’s implication, and saw the man—the shooter—come to life again, lunging toward Croft. Clay held him back. Another man, emerging from the crowd, kicked Croft hard in the side, causing Croft to groan and curl up.
“Enough!” the doctor hollered, standing up and holding out his hands. “This man is my patient, and no matter how wretched he may be, I’ll not allow this to turn into a lynch mob. It’s my job to make sure he survives long enough for the courts to hang him—not the lot of you. Go back home. All of you!”
He returned to Croft, who had passed out. Opening the medical bag, he pulled out white cotton bandages and began packing the wound. “This man needs a hospital. Someone bring a wagon!”
Sadie had returned to weeping on the saloon stairs, with plenty of sympathy and attention from several men. The man who had shot Croft sagged into Clay’s arms, weeping.
“I did it for her. For my Missy. I was gonna do it, was waiting outside the saloon for him. But then I changed my mind. I was headed back to my wagon when I heard the arguing, and I realized it was him. He was at it again.”
“I know. Trust me, I know,” Clay said, patting the fellow on the back.
“He was never gonna stop. I knew that. I just saw him holding that girl, and all I could see was my Missy, and I just thought about how that face—that cruel, miserable face—was probably the last thing she ever saw…”
“Hey, Caldwell, listen to me…listen!” He shook the man by the shoulders. “The police have already been called. When they get here, you don’t say a word about your daughter. You hear me? Not one word.”
“But…why? They need to know—”
“All they need to know is that you were defending a poor woman who was being molested by a drunkard that is known around town for being violent with his ranch hands, and for manhandling women. You warned him, and he drew on you. You were defending yourself. You were defending her. Got it? And if you say anything other than that, I’m going to sucker punch you myself, to get you to shut up. You had no choice. No choice. Got it?”
Caldwell nodded, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve.
Clay turned and faced the few people who were close enough to have heard the man’s rambling. “And the rest of you—those who saw it—that’s what you’re going to say, too. Because that’s the truth. I’m not asking anyone to lie. Just leave the other stuff, about his daughter, out.”
“I saw the whole thing,” a man piped up, nodding. “Caldwell told Croft to let the woman go. Croft laughed, and drew on him. Any one of us would have done the same thing.”
The men in the crowd nodded, murmuring to each other.
Over the heads of the gathered townspeople, Noah saw the jail wagon pull up, preceded by three officers on horseback, who leapt down from their horses and ordered the crowd to disperse.
After relating the events that took place to the police, relinquishing Croft’s firearm, and seeing the jail wagon drive off to take Croft to the hospital, Noah and Clay left Caldwell in the custody of the officers and walked back to the butcher shop.
“That man,” Noah began, “he admitted to planning Croft’s murder.”
“Yeah,” Clay agreed. “But he also admitted to changing his mind. He only went back because Sadie was in trouble. There’s no doubt in my mind that he was defending her. And whatever was going through Caldwell’s mind at the time, Croft pulled the trigger first. Caldwell’s shot was justified, in the defense of himself and others. Plain and simple.”
Noah said nothing.
“Look…that man…he’s done some terrible things. Probably a lotof terrible things—the kind of things that most folks couldn’t even imagine. The police have been after him for years. The sheriff would like nothing more than to put him away. But nothing ever stuck. No one would press charges. Everyone is afraid of Croft. I’d like to have put a bullet between his eyes, myself, more than once—I never would, but I admit, I’ve entertained that fantasy more than once, before getting ahold of my thoughts. The man is pure evil, and it was only a matter of time before someone took the law into their own hands.”
“You know that man? Caldwell?”
They stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the butcher shop.
“Yeah.” Clay sighed, running his hands through his hair. “His daughter went missing a year ago. She was only eighteen. She was last seen heading to Croft’s ranch, to be his new cook and housekeeper. Caldwell said he had a bad feeling about it, but Missy, his daughter, talked him into it. She wanted to go to college, but Caldwell couldn’t afford to send her. He never saw her again. And he’s blamed himself every day since.”
“That’s…awful. What do you think happened to her?”
A cloud passed over Clay’s eyes, darkening his expression, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. “Nothing good.”
“Sounds like you know more about Croft than you’re telling.”
Clay looked away, back toward the saloon. “I do. More than I’d like to know. The man is vermin. I’m a forgiving man, but I’m ashamed to say, I still haven’t managed to work up forgiveness for Croft. It’s hard to forgive a person who shows no compunction for his crimes.”
“But we have to keep trying,” Noah said.
“Yeah. We do.”
As Clay pulled out his keys to unlock the butcher shop door, Noah heard his mother’s voice behind him.
“Noah! There you are! Oh, thank the dear Lord, you’re alright.” She was out of breath, rushing up to him and clutching his arm.
“Mother, what are you—”
“When I heard from Eva Meyer that Vera Deming, had been shot, I—”
“What?” Noah felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
“Haven’t you heard? Didn’t you hear the shots? It was right over there.” His mother pointed—not at the saloon where the crowd had thinned out, but
farther down the block, where another little knot of people still stood. “There was some kind of shoot-out, and Mrs. Deming got caught in the crossfire.”
“No!” He was shocked at the news. There had been so many people and so much chaos in front of the saloon, he’d had no idea Croft’s stray shot had hit someone. Then he thought of Nell—she could have been with Vera Deming. “What about the baby? Did she have the baby with her? Is Nell alright?”
“I don’t know! Eva only heard that Mrs. Deming was shot. I knew you’d have come down this way to shop for Mollie’s present. I was worried that you might have been on the street when it happened! I had to come find you.”
“I’m fine, Mother, don’t worry. But I need to get to Mollie. She’ll want to find out if Nell is alright.”
“You go. I’ll go back and re-open the store, and stay all day if need be. Just don’t forget to tell me whether the baby is safe or not.”
Chapter 27
“Is Nell alright?” Mollie’s voice was strident the moment she heard the news.
Noah reached out to steady her. “I don’t know. Mrs. Meyer didn’t know anything about the baby, only that it was Vera Deming who was shot by the stray bullet. Apparently there was already a crowd by the time Mrs. Meyer got there, and she never got close enough to see what had happened.”
Mollie was already grabbing her coat and slipping it on.
“I’ve got the buggy waiting outside—I knew you’d want to go straight to the hospital to find out what’s going on.”
“But which hospital?” She yanked open the door and rushed outside. “It seems like I remember hearing you say once that there was more than one in Helena.”
He pulled the door shut behind them and followed her down the walk. “I didn’t think about that. He held the gate open for her, shutting it behind them, then helping her up into the carriage. “But I think I heard an officer saying they were bringing Croft to St. Joseph’s Hospital—so maybe that’s where Mrs. Deming was taken. It’s probably the closest, anyway.”
“Wait—no. What if Mr. Deming was with her? He’d demand the best hospital, wouldn’t he? The newest? That would be the other one.”
“St. Peter’s? Not necessarily. The newest, sure, but whether it’s the best would be a highly contested question. It’s also smaller than St. Joseph’s. Then again, it seems like I remember hearing that the Deming family donated money to support St. Peter’s.”
“Then we should go there.”
Noah walked around and climbed into the buggy, turning the horse around and heading for St. Peter’s Hospital.
Mollie’s hands turned white, she had them gripped so tightly together. The hitch in her breath told him she was holding back tears.
He covered her ungloved hands with his. “I’m sure she’s alright.”
“Mrs. Deming doesn’t go out all that often,” she said, her voice strained. “But when I saw her go out…it was usually with the whole family, including the nanny and the wet nurse.” She choked back a sob. “What will I do if she’s gone, Noah? How do I go on without her? I knew that I might not see her again if the Demings move…but at least if I knew she was out there, somewhere, with a family that cares for her, I could go on, knowing she’s happy…”
“I know.” He patted her hand. “If Nell was there today—and I’m sure she wasn’t—then most likely Mrs. Deming protected her.”
“But a bullet can go clean through a person,” she whispered.
***
When they walked into St. Peter’s Hospital, the nurse that greeted them was reluctant to answer their questions. Mollie was sure that the woman was being cautious with questions about a patient of a prominent family whose name was probably on a plaque somewhere in the hospital.
“Just tell me if you’ve had any victims of a gunfight in here today!” Mollie begged.
Then Noah tapped her on the arm, and she turned, and followed his gaze.
Down a long corridor, a tall man in a dark coat sagged against the wall, speaking with a doctor.
Mollie sped toward him, with Noah in tow, ignoring the nurse’s protests. As she came up behind the man—who was, indeed, Alexander Deming—she overheard the last of his conversation.
“—I still don’t understand how this could happen.”
“You’ve spent half your life here, Mr. Deming,” said the doctor. “You know how Main Street can be. We see this more often than I’d like.”
“But…they’ve made so many improvements in the laws, and—”
“Unfortunately, there’s always a seedy element, in every town, Mr. Deming. It was just a matter of the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Excuse me…Mr. Deming?” Mollie approached him, her hands trembling.
He turned, his face a mask of disbelief and misery. Then recognition sparked in his eyes. “You!” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be in jail! What are you doing here?”
“I don’t want to disturb you—”
“Too late for that!”
“—I heard about Mrs. Deming, and I’m so very sorry. But I…I was worried that…that Nell might have been with her…”
He drew himself up to his full height. “Cordelia was at home. She’s fine, not that it’s your business any more.”
Noah stepped in. “Have some compassion, man! I understand what you’re going through, but—”
“You understand? You understand?” A ragged, humorless laugh escaped his throat. “My wife is lying in a hospital bed, bleeding from a gunshot wound. Your wife looks just fine to me! How is it that you understand?”
“What I meant was—”
“Get out. Both of you. Get out!” He waved his arm angrily, causing the nearby nuns and nurses to stop and stare in their direction. “I’ve had enough of you! It’s bad enough you hounded my wife until she was sick with worry. Now you’re here to hound her into the grave?” He leveled his finger at Mollie. “I’ve been more than patient with you. But enough is enough. As soon as my wife recovers, I’m packing up my family and we’re leaving Helena. And we’re not going back to Boston or anywhere else you can track us down. You’ll never see your daughter again. Do you hear me? Never again!”
The doctor, who had remained silent and let Deming speak his piece, now stepped forward, laying a comforting hand on Mr. Deming’s shoulder. Then he nodded toward Mollie and Noah. “I think he’s right. You should go. This isn’t a good time.”
Mollie stared, frozen in horror at Deming’s words. She scarcely felt Noah tugging at her arm.
“Let’s go,” he murmured. “At least we know she’s safe.”
Mollie nodded, shuffling along beside him. Before she knew it, she was sitting beside Noah in the buggy, pulling up in front of their home.
Home. Can anything ever really be a home, for me, without Nell in it? She was numb with shock. She’d always known there was a likelihood of the Deming family moving away to evade her, but to hear it said with such finality…such deliberate malice…it shook her to her core.
Noah remained silent as he helped her down from the buggy and into the house. What could he say to her? What could anyone say? She had lost Nell forever. Once and for all. She was a mother with no child.
She touched her flat belly, remembering how the swell of it felt beneath her hands when she carried Nell inside her. She remembered the last two months of her confinement, seeing to the endless housework in her mother’s home and coping with her aching back, and how eager she had been for Nell to be born.
If she’d known then what was to come of her child, she might have wished that her little Nell could stay inside of her, safe and protected, forever.
Noah said something soothing, but Mollie didn’t hear it. She was lost in a world of memories of Nell—the day she was born, the smell of her hair, her first smile. Then the memories fell away like shattered glass, and she was faced with the four walls of her bedroom. She was tucked in bed, and didn’t even remember how she’d gotten there. Somewhere off in the house—the kitchen,
perhaps?—she heard Noah bustling around.
She stared about her, at the empty bedroom—with no bassinet, no crib, no baby quilt tossed casually across the bed. No signs that she’d ever had a baby…that Nell had ever existed.
Mollie had nothing left to remember Nell by, except the pink sweater she’d taken by accident from the Deming home.
She considered fetching it from the drawer. What’s the point? she thought. It’s over. Nell will be gone soon. I might as well burn it. She only wished she could burn from her mind every memory of Nell, as well. Maybe then she could go on with her life…think about future children, her life with Noah. Maybe then she could be happy. But as long as her arms were empty, her heart would be too. She could find no solace in the future, or hope for happiness.
For Mollie, there was no future.
Chapter 28
Thursday, March 12, 1891
There was a knock at the back door, and Noah set the bowl of soup in his hand down on the table as his mother poked her head in.
“How is she doing? Any change?”
He shook his head. “The same. I was hoping to get her to eat some of this soup…”
“If she doesn’t eat more, she’s going to waste away.”
“I’m really worried. This is so unlike her. All she wants to do is sleep, or lie curled up, staring at the wall. She won’t let me open the curtains or light a lamp. She just lays in the dark. She doesn’t even cry anymore. It’s like she’s given up on life.”
“She’s got melancholy, something fierce.” His mother clucked his tongue. “I suppose even the strongest of us can fall, given the right circumstances.”
“I’m not even sure I understand it. She already had given up on the idea of getting Nell back. She knew Mr. Deming was likely to leave Helena. I’m not sure what changed.”
“Hope, Noah. He took away her last shred of hope. Before, there was still a chance he would stay. That Nell would grow up in Helena, and that Mollie might see her photograph on the society page, or run into her someday. She might still run into Nell, grown up and with children of her own, someday. There was a chance. There was hope.”
Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4) Page 18