“Do you think you ought to be doing this, Mrs. Simpson?” Jake asked as Found obediently headed toward the back room. “If the law is after him, they won’t take kindly to your interfering.”
“I don’t mean for them to know that I interfered. Besides, it serves them right for trying to hang an innocent man.”
“But you don’t know he’s innocent.”
“He says he is, and I believe him.”
“I do too,” added Katie.
“I’m inclined to take his side, I must admit,” Jake said reluctantly. “He just doesn’t seem like the murdering type to me, but you can’t ever tell.”
“If the sheriff has proof, I suppose we can’t hide him.”
Found came rushing from the back room, gesturing frantically behind him. Carrie looked up in time to see Sam emerge from the doorway, walking with great difficulty, but walking nevertheless.
“Where are my guns?” he demanded, clearly uneasy without his weapons.
They’re right here,” Carrie said, indicating the guns and other property spread out on the table. “Everything is here.”
“You have no right to take a man’s guns,” Sam said. “It makes him feel naked.”
“I had no intention of keeping them, but if you had been naked more often, maybe you wouldn’t be in so much trouble.”
“Ma’am, there’s probably a good bit of truth in what you say, but it ain’t going to help me now. I appreciate what you done for me and the way you’ve treated me so kindly, but I’d better be going. I’ve lost too much time now. I’ll just gather up my things and fetch my horse …”
“Let Found do that for you. We hid him for you.”
“Lady, I don’t understand you. Don’t nobody stick his neck out for a stranger. It don’t get you nothing.”
“But I’m not trying to get anything. You were in difficulty, and I helped you. Now wait here until Found returns with your horse. He’s an orphan, but his family had a cabin back in the woods …”
The back door burst open and Found tumbled into the room, wide-eyed and gasping for breath. He took Carrie’s arm and pulled her toward the window and pointed. Carrie felt cold fear grip her heart when she saw about a dozen men riding into the station yard. It was the posse after Sam, and there was no way for him to escape.
Chapter 20
In a flash Carrie realized the posse intended to capture Sam and that he would resist arrest. There would probably be shooting, and someone might get killed. By deciding to help him, she had placed Katie, Jake, and Found in the middle of a dangerous situation, and if anything happened to one of them, it would be her fault.
'Into the cupboard,” Carrie ordered, pointing to a small closet used to store her cooking staples and separated from the room by a curtain.
“He can’t hide there” Jake exclaimed. “He’ll be practically under their noses.”
“They’re going to want to search the place,” Carrie said, “and I don’t see why I shouldn’t let them. About the only place they won’t look is this room. Come on, Sam. We’re almost out of time.”
Sam looked at Carrie, and for a brief moment she could tell he was weighing his chance of making a run for it. Abruptly he ducked into the closet and allowed her to stack the sacks of flour and bags of sugar to cover his feet and legs. She wondered whether he had done it because he trusted her or because he had no other choice.
When the sheriff reached the station door a few moments later, Carrie and Katie were busy preparing dinner. Jake was seated at the table drinking coffee, his shirt buttoned over the bandages, and Found was busy filling the wood box. The bloody clothes had been thrown into the wash pot out back, and Sam’s rifle lay hidden on top of a cabinet. Carrie stepped out on the porch to meet the sheriff as he rode up.
“Howdy, ma’am,” he said, pulling his horse to a stop without dismounting. “I’m Sheriff Tate from over Tyler’s Mountain.”
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“I’d like to speak to the manager of this station.”
“I’m Mrs. Simpson, Sheriff, and I manage the station.”
“But you’re a woman.”
“I’m glad you noticed.”
“Where is your husband?”
“Dead.”
“You mean you run this place all by yourself?”
“I didn’t say that. I have a stockman, a girl to help me with the cooking, and a boy for chores. We also have a wrangler who helps out when we need him.”
“Lady, you shouldn’t be here without a man. There’s no telling what can happen to a woman alone.”
“But I’ve just explained that I’m not alone. Now did you have some reason for being here, or did you think it your civic duty to warn me that a woman can’t survive without a man to hold her hand?”
Sheriff Tate was inclined to pursue the argument, but he had a feeling he was not going to get around this woman, and he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of his men. Besides, this lady was young and stunningly good-looking. The men in his posse wouldn’t take it kindly if he gave her a bad time. The way some of the boys were staring at her right now, they’d be more likely to clean out her barn, fetch water, and chop enough wood to supply the kitchen stove for a week.
“We’re on the trail of a dangerous criminal, ma’am.”
“What did he do?”
“Murdered a man, shot him in the back when it was dark and he was too drunk to defend himself.”
“But why are you here?”
“We trailed him here. To your barn, as a matter of fact.”
“You trailed him here?” Carrie asked, stunned. “How?” She hadn’t planned on this. If they knew Sam was here, what could she do?
“We got an Indian tracker, ma’am. He can follow a hawk over rock.”
“Well, he’s not here,” Carrie said. “At least if he is, we haven’t seen him.”
“Mind if my boys look around?”
“Not at all. Why don’t you come inside and have a cup of coffee while you wait?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” the sheriff said, climbing down from the saddle as the posse broke up to begin their search. “I’ve been in the saddle since dawn.”
“You hungry?” Carrie asked, moving through the door to allow the sheriff to enter. “We could fix your men something to eat if you’re willing to pay for it. We just started dinner.”
“That would be mighty nice. We brought our own food, but we’re not very good at turning it into something tasty.”
“Help yourself to the coffee. It’s strong and there’s plenty of it.” One of the posse came hurrying in.
“Sheriff, we found signs of blood in the barn.”
“You’ll find more in the bedroom and on the rags in the wash pot,” Carrie said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you found a good bit on the ground between here and the barn. This is Jake Bemis, my stock man,” She said, pointing to Jake. “He had an accident this morning. It took us a while to patch him up.” Jake pulled open his shirt enough for the sheriff to see the bandages, just as two more men entered the station, one of them obviously the Indian tracker.
“We found his horse in a corral up the canyon.”
“Any sign of Buder?”
“No, but there’s a set of tracks leading out of that corral that can’t be more than an hour old.”
“How can you tell that?” asked Carrie. Her eyes cut to where Found stood behind Jake’s shoulder, but his face was expressionless. She didn’t know what had happened; she had to play for time.
“I don’t understand it myself, ma’am, but this here Indian can read a trail just like he was seeing it made. What do you figure happened, Mort?”
“Must have come in here and taken one of their horses in place of his. I don’t see any other signs of him.”
“And none of you people saw or heard anything?” the sheriff asked, a little suspiciously, Carrie thought.
“We haven’t been out of the station since Jake came up here bleeding all over th
e place. It took both of us to fix him up and the boy here to bring in clean water. We haven’t had a stage since early this morning, and I guess we just haven’t been paying much attention.” Carrie could see from the disgusted look on the sheriff’s face he thought that was just like a woman, but she didn’t care what he thought as long as he believed Sam Butler was a long way from the Green Run Pass.
“Well, I suppose he’s a long way down the trail by now. If you’d dish up that food, ma’am, we’ll eat and be on our way.” Katie served the plates and Carrie handed them around as the men took their place at the table.
“Here’s some supplies in exchange,” said one of the men as he set down a small bag of coffee, some flour, and a side of bacon.
“You needn’t have done that, but I appreciate it.” Carrie picked up the coffee, went over to the storage closet, and pulled the curtain partway open. She placed the coffee on the shelf, and was in the process of putting the flour away when Sam sneezed. Carried jumped six inches, and grabbed for the flour to keep from dropping it. Collecting her wits as quickly as possible, she brought the back of her hand up to her nose, as if she were trying to stifle a second sneeze, and turned around to find herself practically nose to nose with the sheriff.
“Allergies,” she muttered, blocking his view into the closet and not moving an inch from where she stood. “I should never have tried to put up the flour myself, but Jake can’t do it, not with his side cut open, and I didn’t think to ask one of your men.”
“You allergic to a lot of things, ma’am?” The sheriff asked, his suspicions not entirely allayed.
“Not too many, but sometimes it seems like it,” Carrie said. She decided against faking a second sneeze. The sheriff was watching her too closely. “That’s the reason the doctors advised me to come west.”
“Let me put up the bacon away for you,” one of the men offered.
“Put it on the cutting block next to the stove. I think we’ll fry a little of it for our own supper,” Carrie said. She could not allow anyone in that closet.
The sheriff resumed his seat at the table. “You sure do have a mighty powerful sneeze for a little woman. I would have sworn it was a man that sneezed.”
“Are you saying you think I’m hiding this criminal you’re chasing, this killer, in my food closet?”
“Now ma’am, I never said …”
“Search the closet,” Carrie said, flinging the curtain back but being careful to open it only partway. “You can also search the rooms in the back and the wash shed. You’ll find blood in both places.”
“We don’t need to search the station, ma’am, and we know there’s nobody hiding in your closet.” Carrie let the curtain drop back into place, hoping there was no look of relief in her eyes to betray her to the sheriff.
“I want you to be sure in your own mind he isn’t here.”
“Lady, I don’t expect two women and a boy, not to mention a lamed stock man, to be messing around with anyone like Sam Butler. He shoots people for fun. Why, he’d just as soon kill you as look at you.”
“How do you know that?”
“What do you mean?” asked the sheriff, startled that his word should be doubted, especially by a woman.
“Just what I said. Have you seen him shoot people rather than have to look at them or just for the fun of it?”
“Well no, but he’s-”
“Then how can you say he would shoot a person just as soon as he would look at them?”
“Ma’am, this Sam has a mighty powerful reputation.”
“Has anyone else ever seen him shoot people for the fun of it?”
“Lady, Sam Butler has killed people before, several times.”
“Were any of those killings just for fun, or were they in self-defense?”
“They was all in self-defense,” one of the men spoke up.
“Did anyone see Mr. Butler shoot this man in the back? You said it was dark.”
“Lady, there are about twenty men ready to swear they heard Sam and Newley arguing in the saloon about three hours earlier.”
“Three hours! You’re not going to tell me that this Mr. Butler person was still mad after three hours, or that he hid in some alley and waited three hours on the chance Newley would come by. From what you’ve said, he’s too hot-tempered to wait, and much too bold to hide.”
“Well, I don’t know that he actually did hide.”
“Sheriff, if I were Mr. Butler, we were in Virginia, and you accused me of murder without having the least bit of evidence except that I had had an argument with someone, I would take you into court and sue you for slander and defamation of character. The very least that could happen would be that you would lose your job. From what Mr. Barrow has been telling me about the way things are done in Colorado, the injured man would be within his rights in taking a gun to you.”
“Now see here …” The sheriff was not used to having his reasons subjected to careful scrutiny or to dealing with a woman who handled words better than most men handled a gun.
“I don’t know whether this Butler person shot this Newley person or not,” Carrie went on, “but it looks like you don’t either. Did you organize this posse to take him back to stand his trial?”
“We was actually planning to save the judge the trouble …”
“I wouldn’t think that trying to establish the innocence or guilt of a person should be considered too much trouble for a judge. If so, then maybe your judge should look for another job. After all, that’s what both of you are paid to do, isn’t it?”
“No, it ain’t” the sheriff said, glad to finally have an answer she didn’t expect. “I’m paid to put a stop to the killing and shooting and to put anybody in jail who tries to do otherwise.”
“But you don’t have any evidence Mr. Butler did any shooting, so how can you put him in jail?”
“Look, lady, why are you so all-fired interested in Butler’s future?”
Carrie decided to ignore that and just push on. “Did this Mr. Butler shoot any of those people he killed in the back?”
“No, he didn’t, Mrs. Simpson,” one of the men spoke up, the one who’d spoken before, “and I been trying to tell these hotheaded fools for the last three and a half days that they was making a big mistake. Sam don’t take nothing off nobody, but he don’t shoot people in the back either. He’s too fast.”
“But you said they was having a go at it with their fists, and that Newley swore he would get even with Sam,” the sheriff sputtered.
“Sure he did, but Newley was drunk. Everybody knows Newley is always saying something foolish when he’s drunk, but he’s not crazy enough to go after Sam Butler when he’s sober. Sam didn’t say nothing. He knowed Newley was all hot air.”
It was obvious to Carrie the sheriff didn’t know what to do next. She could also see he was furious at having the steam taken out of his posse.
“I suggest you wait until you have more evidence the next time you start to arrest someone,” Carrie said. “Colorado might not be a state yet, but I can’t see the territorial governor liking people being hanged without evidence. If you were to hang someone in Virginia just because you overheard him having an argument, it would be called a lynching.” That was an ugly word, and it had a powerful effect on the members of the posse.
“We may not be a state, like your precious Virginia, but we have laws against lynching out here too,” the sheriff said indignantly.
“I’m glad to hear that. Now if you’ve all finished your dinner, I suggest you find a place to camp until you make up your mind what to do.” Over the noise of the self-conscious shuffling of feet came the sound of a horse approaching the station at a gallop. The rider rode up to the station, bounded up the steps, and burst through the door. The man was a stranger to Carrie, but he obviously knew the sheriff for he went straight up to him.
“It was Crosby who shot Newley,” he announced, obviously relieved to have finally delivered his message. “His landlady found Newley’s ring, wa
llet, and his gun in Crosby’s room when she went to straighten up. You wouldn’t think even Crosby could be such a fool as to leave that stuff lying about for anyone to find.”
“Why did he do it?” demanded the sheriff, uncomfortably aware that Carrie’s point had just been proven. “He didn’t even know Newley. He had just got into town.”
“Knew him back in some town in Missouri. Seems Crosby got himself into some trouble and skipped out, question of some money stolen from a bank and two guards killed. He figured Newley would turn him in for the reward, so he shot him before he could talk.”
There was a good deal of milling about, the men muttering among themselves, but within a short time they had all murmured their thanks for the food, mounted up, and ridden out. Carrie sank into her chair with a weary plop. The adrenaline which had supported her through the last few hours was gone, and she felt as weak as a kitten.
“I never saw anyone pull a posse’s teeth like you done, ma’am,” Sam said as he emerged from the closet. “You gave them such a licking they wouldn’t take me back if half a dozen swore they saw me shoot Newley.”
“I’m just glad I was able to prevent an injustice,” Carrie said, wondering why she didn’t faint. “I really don’t believe they were going to hang you without any evidence.” She suddenly wished Lucas were here. She hadn’t had time to think about him while she was facing the sheriff and his posse, but right now it would feel awfully good to be able to collapse into his arms.
“Believe it,” Sam said emphatically. “The sheriff was right when he said things are different out here. You can’t wait to try everybody that kills someone else.”
“I didn’t say anything about a proven murderer,” Carrie said, “but saying that things are different is just a flimsy excuse. I won’t listen to any accusation without some solid evidence.”
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