by Ralph Cotton
“No,” said Julie, “it’s nothing like that. He saved my life, though, finding me, bringing me here. I owe him for that.”
“Careful what you owe a man in this life, child,” Constance whispered near her ear, helping her down onto the sofa. “They always find a way to collect.”
“Will you be going to check on Mr. Meredith,” Julie asked, “to make sure he’s all right?”
“Oh, I doubt if I need to go see about him.” Constance smiled with reserve. “I expect he’ll come this way soon enough.”
No sooner than Constance had gotten the words out of her mouth, the brass door knocker tapped soundly. “See?” she said, knowingly. “There he is now.” But before going to the door, she raised a small pitcher of water from a table beside the sofa, filled a drinking glass with tepid water and handed it to Julie. “Now, you relax, honey, and drink this.”
“Thank you,” Julie replied, her eyes going toward the sound of the door knocker when it tapped again, this time a little louder.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” said Constance, “he’ll wait.” She brushed a hand gently along the side of Julie’s bruised and tender face, then added with a wince, “Every time I look at what’s been done to you, child, I start hating men all over again.”
The third round of door knocking had started by the time Constance had left Julie’s side and walked to the front door. “Yes, I’m coming,” she called out, lightly touching her hair with her fingertips and opening the door before Baines Meredith finished his third knock.
The gunman stood silently, only staring at her for a moment, as if he knew of nothing more to say now that his killing was finished. Finally he stated in a flat, hardened tone, “He’s dead.”
“Yes, we saw,” Constance replied, trying to look detached and only mildly interested. She stood firmly in the half-opened door, making no gesture for him to enter. “I suppose you are through here in Umberton and eager to get under way?”
“I might stay here a few days,” he said. Then he stood in silence.
Looking him up and down Constance noted how his face had turned pale, drained, as if indeed the bullet hole in the middle of his shirt might have gone through him and struck his heart. A bloodless heart, she thought upon close observation. “I have no empty rooms,” she said, “if that’s your question.”
Baines Meredith only stared at her.
Nodding at the bullet hole in his shirt, she said in a tone of veiled disgust, “Are you some sort of fiend, some ghoul who kills, but can’t be killed?”
“That’s me all right,” Baines replied almost in a whisper. Constance saw that in spite of his toughness, her words had affected him. She watched him try to mask the hurt in his eyes as he spread his shirt open enough to show her the thick quilted canvas vest he wore beneath it. Imbedded in the army blue canvas lay the flattened lead bullet from Heilly’s gun. “I’m bulletproof, compliments of the Union army.”
Constance shook her head and said with an almost bitter snap, “What will they think of next?”
Baines only nodded, closed the front of his shirt and said, “Knowing the young woman to be in good hands . . .” He let his words trail, stepped back with his fingertips to his hat brim and turn to walk away.
“What the hell,” Constance cursed under her breath. Then, raising her voice a bit, she said, “Wait,” and watched him turn back to her. “I suppose I can make room for you here . . . for a short time.”
“But you said you are full.” Baines gave her questioning look. “Will I be sharing a room?”
“Will you be staying or not?” Constance said flatly, as if they both knew they were talking about more than just a sleeping room.
“Yes, ma’am.” Baines Meredith smiled to himself beneath his thick drooping mustache and looked away along the dirt street to where three men carried Tom Heilly’s body back inside the barbershop. Turning his eyes back to Constance Whirly, he saw her step slightly aside, giving him entrance. Removing his hat, he stepped inside and narrowed a gaze into her eyes. “You are a fine handsome woman, Miss Constance.”
“Go on,” she said shyly. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I know I don’t, but it gives me pleasure,” Baines said under his breath, aware of Julie on the sofa in the other room. “I regret you having to see what happened out there in the street. I know it’s unpleasant for a lovely lady like yourself.”
“Stop it now, and come along,” she said, fanning him aside with a light hand. “I knew how to look away.”
Five full days had passed before Julie’s face began to return to its proper shape and color. During those five days, Baines Meredith had ridden out to the army encampment twenty miles east of Umberton and told them what had happened to Julie, and about the deaths of the Colonel, Shep Watson and the Shawler family.
Once Julie’s swelling had gone down sufficiently, Baines helped hold her in place for Constance Whirly, while Constance used both thumbs to reshape Julie’s shattered nose cartilage. He loosened his hold a little as Constance finished pressing the nose back into alignment and packed the young woman’s nostrils with clean white cotton to hold the shattered cartilage in place until healing began.
Baines had given Julie a strong double shot of rye whiskey a few minutes before they started. By the time Constance had finished packing her nostrils, Julie had stopped resisting and lay back in her own sweat, in a stupor of dulled pain.
“The poor thing,” Constance whispered sidelong to Baines as the two stood over Julie’s bed, wiping their hands on a towel. “I had to rebreak the cartilage before I could reset it properly. I don’t know if she’ll ever look right, after all this.”
“Young flesh heals well,” Baines offered, slipping an arm around Constance’s narrow waist. They stood looking down on the sleeping young woman for a moment; then Baines whispered, “But there’s more healing needed here than just the flesh.”
Constance nodded. She stared down in contemplation for a moment longer; then, as if coming to a decision, she gestured Baines out of the small room, into the foyer, and said, “She suspects little Jimmy Buckles of being one of the men who did this to her.”
“The boy who does your odd jobs around here?” Baines asked. “She told you that?”
“Not in words,” said Constance. “But I saw how she watched him when he moved the bed down from upstairs and set it up for me. It’s the same anytime he comes to the house.”
Not ready to dismiss Julie’s suspicions out of hand, Baines said, “How do you know she’s not right about him? She didn’t see their faces, but maybe something else about him stuck in her mind.”
“Not Jimmy,” said Constance shaking her head. “He was right here during the time this would have happened. I had him doing some painting upstairs and he spent three nights in a spare room to keep from riding all the way from his father’s farm.”
“I see,” said Baines, considering the situation. “So, you think she’s going to have some trouble getting over this?”
“Wouldn’t anybody?” Constance asked.
“I expect so,” said Baines. “It might have been easier for her had she seen their real faces that day. As it stands she could go through her life seeing their imaginary faces every time she closes her eyes—the cowardly sonsabitches.” He ended his words with a bitter tone, his right hand closing instinctively around the bone handle on the Dance Brothers pistol on his hip.
Taking note of Baines’ hand on his pistol, Constance said in a firm voice, “This is not your fight, Baines Meredith. You brought her here . . . You notified the army. The rest is up to her.”
Baines eased his hand away from the pistol butt and let it fall to his side. “I know it,” he said. “These are her own devils . . . She’ll have to fight them the best she can.”
Constance glanced toward the doorway to Julie’s room, then said in a lowered voice, “These devils have scared this child into a dark corner. I’m afraid she might never come out of it.” She paused and shook her hea
d. “What on earth is going to become of her?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” said Baines, staring off across the room and out the window, toward the empty plains beyond Umberton’s town limits.
Reading the distant look that had suddenly come over his face, Constance changed the subject away from Julie Wilder. “We said for a few days, didn’t we?”
“Yes, I expect we did,” Baines replied, his gaze still fixed on the endless land.
“It’ll soon be a week.” She moved close enough to rest her face on his wide chest.
“Yes, it will.” He took an envelope from inside his shirt and pressed it into her hand. “There’s a hundred dollars in there.”
“We don’t owe one another a thing, Baines,” she said, nudging the envelope away from her.
But Baines persisted, pressing it into her fingers and folding her hand over it. “Keep it for Julie. She arrived broke and naked here in Umberton. It’ll help her some.”
Constance nodded and rested her head against his chest, the envelope in her hand. “Yes, for Julie I’ll take it,” she whispered.
Baines reached a hand up and stroked her soft gray-streaked hair. “No regrets?”
“None here,” said Constance. “And you?”
“None here either,” said Baines Meredith. He shook his head slowly in reflection and added, “None except the leaving.”
“You could stay,” Constance suggested.
“No,” Baines replied, “if I stayed, it wouldn’t be what it is.” He smiled down at her raised face. “There’s nothing sweeter than a sad good-bye.”
“Go on with you, Baines Meredith,” Constance said with a trace of a tear forming in her eye. “I’m starting to suspect that you are a lady’s man.”
“It all depends on the lady, ma’am,” he replied, holding her against him.
PART 2
Chapter 11
April 1865
“Well, it’s about damn time,” said Constance Whirly.
A week after Baines Meredith had left Umberton, a Union army major, accompanied by a Free Kansas Militia officer and three of his militiamen, rode up to the hitch rail out front of Constance Whirly’s boardinghouse and stepped down. From the window both Constance and Julie stood watching. Constance could feel the young woman’s grip tighten on her hand as the men walked up to the front door.
“Don’t you worry,” said Constance, patting her nervous hand. “You tell them whatever you’re comfortable telling and get it over with.” She led Julie beside her to the front door.
“No! I can’t!” Julie said. “You saw how long it took for the army to even send someone! And you see who’s riding with him! For all I know these could be the very ones who did all this!”
Constance stopped and searched her eyes for a moment, then said, “Then tell the major just enough to send him down the road. There’s no denying that your father and Shepherd Watson are dead. . . . So are the Shawlers. You’ll have to tell the army something, or else you’ll be in the wrong.”
“I know,” said Julie, with a troubled expression. “I’ll tell him what the killers told me, that I better keep my mouth shut and clear out of here. He’ll just have to understand.” She gave Constance a troubled look. “So will the killers, until I’m well enough to travel.”
“Whatever you feel is best, child,” said Constance Whirly, helping Julie along, realizing the young woman’s dilemma. “Let’s get you seated in the parlor. I’ll see them in.”
In the small parlor Julie eased down onto a cushion-backed chair, carefully keeping her weight shifted away from her healing ribs. She tried to compose herself as she heard voices at the open door, followed by the sound of the door closing and footsteps across the wooden floor coming toward her.
But in spite of her efforts she knew hadn’t been able to hide the fear in her eyes when Constance led the four men into the parlor. “Miss Julie, this is Major Gerrard. He’s brought along four members of the Free Kansas Militia.” Gesturing politely with her hand, she said to the major, “Major Gerrard, this is Miss Julie Wilder, the late Colonel Bertrim Wilder’s daughter.”
Julie saw only kindness and concern in the major’s eyes as he stepped forward with a slight bow, his cavalry hat tucked into the crook of his arm and said, “Miss Wilder, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about the colonel’s and Shepherd Watson’s death.” He reached down, chivalrously took Julie’s hand for a second, then released it.
“Thank you, Major Gerrard,” said Julie, hoping she’d managed to keep any traces of fear or unsteadiness out of her voice. She breathed a bit easier, at least for that moment. But when the major turned and introduced the three men to her, she knew they had to see the shock, the fear and the desperation in her dark eyes.
“This is Captain Ruddell Plantz, of the Free Kansas Militia,” said the major, sweeping a hand toward Plantz.
“An honor, ma’am, in spite of the circumstances,” said Plantz, giving what Julie thought to be a smug grin and a short bow at the waist. Plantz made no effort to step forward and take her hand, something that Julie was thankful for as her eyes moved away from the indiscernible look on his face. Turning to the other three men Plantz said, “Please allow me to introduce Parson Preston Oates, and Privates Kiley and Peerly.”
“Ma’am,” said the parson, speaking for the three of them. The men made short bows, of courtesy without moving toward her. But Julie didn’t hear the parson’s voice; she hardly saw his lips move. Instead she sat stunned, staring at the three but hardly aware of them being in the room. A moment earlier, her eyes had gone to Plantz’s boots as she’d looked away from his face. And there her gaze had riveted for just a second on the tiny winged horses engraved on his Mexican spurs. She’d had to force her eyes away in order to recapture her breath.
Seeing the tense silence set in, Major Gerrard took control. “Mr. Baines Meredith reported what happened, and I must say we were all shocked at his implication toward our Free Kansas Militia. That is why I insisted that Captain Plantz and some of his men join me here this morning.”
“Implication?” said Constance, giving Plantz and his men a harsh stare, a hand planted firmly on her hip. “It was the work of the Free Kansas Militia, plain and simple.”
“Please, Mrs. Whirly,” said the major in a conciliatory tone, “let’s allow the young lady to tell us what she knows.”
Julie felt all eyes on her. She had barely recovered from the shock of seeing Plantz’s silver Mexican spurs. Did he realize she might recognize the spurs if he wore them here, she managed to ask herself. Or was he wearing the spurs here simply as a test, to see if she would dare say anything? “I—I didn’t see anyone’s face,” she said grudgingly, not about to mention the spurs or make any accusations against Ruddell Plantz.
“But according to Baines Meredith, you and your father found a Free Kansas Militiaman chasing the Shawler boy,” said the major. “Didn’t you get a look at his face?”
“No,” Julie lied, without raising her eyes to face the major.
“But he was wearing a militiaman’s uniform?” the major prodded. “The same type of uniform these four men are wearing?”
“Yes, I believe so,” said Julie, “but I can’t be certain.”
“You mean you cannot attest to it under oath, in a formal statement?” the major asked.
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Julie. “I can’t attest to it in a formal statement.” As she said the words she raised her eyes and looked at Plantz, letting him know that she wanted no trouble with him and his men.
“I see,” said the major, rubbing his bearded chin in contemplation. Noting her reluctance even to discuss what had happened, he asked, “Do you wish to file a statement of any sort, to assist us in finding the persons who killed your father, Shep Watson and the Shawler family?”
“There’s nothing I can tell you that would help you find the Shawler family’s killers.” Julie faced the major as she spoke. “It was still early morning dark when the men who
assaulted me brought my father and Shep Watson to the house and dropped them in the dirt.”
“So you did not witness your father or Shep Watson’s death firsthand?” the major asked. “For all you know those men might have found the two bodies along the trail and brought them home?”
“That’s right, for all I know,” said Julie with resolve, seeing that the law would have been of little benefit to her even had she chosen to confide in them and seek their help. “My pa is dead. Nothing is going to change that,” she said, again letting herself face Plantz long enough to see to it he got her message. “I took a beating, but I’m alive and getting over it. All I want is to get out of here and go live in peace—try to forget this ever happened.”
“I understand,” said the major, “and I sympathize with you. But a terrible crime has been committed, and according to Mr. Meredith, it involved the Free Kansas Militia—”
“If I can say something here, Major,” said Plantz, cutting in. “As ashamed as I am to admit this, I’m afraid our militia has a share of bad apples.” He smiled at Julie as he continued. “A scoundrel by the name of Goff Aimes has only recently proven himself unworthy of wearing our uniform. He has mysteriously disappeared, but . . .” He let his words trail.
“Go on,” the major encouraged him.
Plantz continued. “The fact is, it might very well have been him and some other ne’er-do-wells who committed these crimes. If that’s the case, I want the young lady here to feel confident that as soon as this man can be found, if he had anything to do with this, he will be punished most severely.”
“There then,” said the major, looking at Julie, “I hope that is of some consolation to you, Miss Wilder. This matter will not go unattended. It will be pursued until we have caught the guilty parties.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Plantz, giving Julie the same smug grin, “you have our word on that.”
Seeing the same smug grin on the other three faces, Julie did not respond. Instead she stared back down at the floor and felt Constance’s hand rest on her shoulder as the older woman stepped over beside her.