Excusing himself, Sky made his way out of the church after the mountain man. The man’s long, gray hair blew in the breeze and he had just mounted an appaloosa and started to move away from the church when Sky came out into the yard.
Bending quickly, he examined the prints the man had made in the dust of the church yard. He frowned. These tracks differed from the ones that had been in the alley up in Pierce City. Could Brooke be wrong about the man’s identity?
Glancing again at the man, Sky noted with some surprise that he was older than he had first thought.
“Excuse me,” he called, and the bearded man pulled his horse to a stop, turning to see who had hailed him. “Could I ask you a couple of questions?”
The man looked him over as if judging his trustworthiness and then, as though he had come to a sudden decision, swung down from the saddle. “What can I do you for?”
Sky stretched out his hand. “Name’s Skyler Jordan. I live up Pierce City way.” He watched the man to see what his reaction would be to the mention of the town.
“Howdy, I’m Trace Johnson,” he said but exhibited no reaction. His face impassive, he stood quietly waiting for Sky to speak his mind.
Sky brought hands to hips. “You obviously know about the murder we had in town a couple of nights back since you are here at the funeral. Do you mind my asking, Trace, how did you know Fraser?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t know him ‘tall. I was here for another reason today.”
“And that would be...?”
Trace Johnson looked at him blandly.
Deciding to be direct, Sky went on, “The reason I’m asking is that someone told me she saw you in the alley between Jed’s boarding house and Fraser’s Mercantile on the night of the murder. Can you tell me why you were there?” Sky sensed what the answer would be even before Trace answered.
“Whoever she is, she’s lying to you, son.”
Sky stared at the outer wall of the church. Again, his insides twisted into a tight knot at the thought of her lying to him. He felt somehow betrayed. Not wanting to let on to this fact before Trace, however, he asked, “Can you prove that, Mr. Johnson?”
“Look, son.” Trace clapped a hand down on Sky’s shoulder.
Sky shook off his irritation with the term son.
“I can tell you two things. Number one, I wasn’t in that alley on the night of the murder. And number two, someone else was, but I think you already knew that.” Trace Johnson laughed softly. “Now, son, in my business you can’t afford to go around announcing who you are and what you do, but I’ve read up on you.”
Sky started to say something, but Trace went on without missing a beat. “You and your cousin cracked a couple of tough cases over in Shilo, and I admire not only what you accomplished but the way you went about things.
From what I hear there were a number of times when you two had your man dead to rights in your gun sights, and out in the west here it’s sometimes tempting to just take justice into your own hands, so to speak, but I never heard tell o’ you two doing that. So I am going to be straight with you.” Trace ran a hand down his long beard as he asked his next question. “You ever heard of the Pinkerton Detective Agency?”
Sky nodded. “Sure. I worked with a couple of their detectives on a case over in Shilo one time.”
Trace smiled. “How did you think I knew so much about you?”
“So you’re a Pinkerton?”
He nodded.
“And, let me guess, you’ve been hired to find someone?”
“There was this family back east.” Trace seemed to change the subject. “A man and his wife and young, beautiful daughter. They had gone out for the evening and when they returned they found their house in the middle of being robbed. Even though he was wearing a mask and could not be recognized, and the family told him he was free to leave the premises, the burglar shot the father with no warning. When the mother and daughter tried to run, he grabbed the woman. Only the daughter escaped. The mother was found, also murdered, when the police arrived. The daughter said that the man laughed as he shot her father.”
Trace stared at his hands as he spoke, slapping the ends of the reins against one palm. “The daughter ran to her grandparents’ place. Her grandfather happens to be a senator back east, and he hired our agency to find the man who committed the crime. I’m following that man. We don’t know what this murderer looks like—just that he is small in stature. We do have a list of the jewels that he stole from the house. Now, you don’t see men out west wearing jewelry too often, do you?”
Trace looked pointedly into Sky’s face. “None o’ the pieces that were taken have been sold on the black market, far as we can find. But this man I’ve been trailing has a ring that looks an awful lot like a piece taken from the house back east. He says he bought it off a fella down California way, but I don’t believe him. He’s my man; I just don’t have enough evidence yet. He knows I’m on his trail, though, and they always make some sort of mistake when they feel the pressure of the chase breathing down their backs.”
“Can you tell me who this man is?”
“That I can’t do, son. It might put your life in jeopardy.”
“Do you think he might be involved in this murder up in Pierce City?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him—that murder back east was similarly cold-blooded—but I’m not here to figure that out. I’m here to find my man and take him in.”
“I found some footprints in the alley next to Fraser’s store on the morning after the murder. They were small. Does the man you’re tracking make small prints and have a short stride?”
Trace nodded.
“A crack in the heel of the right boot?”
Again a nod.
“Do you have any idea why your man might have wanted to kill Fraser?”
“No, not in the least. I can tell you he’s been in the area quite a bit in the last couple of days, though. I lost his trail there for a while, right about the time of the murder, so I don’t know for sure that he was in town on that night, but if I come across anything that might bring you all a conviction up in Pierce City, I will let you know.”
“Thank you, and I hope you find the evidence you’re looking for. If you’re ever up in our area again, feel free to stop by. A hot meal and a place to sleep in out of the cold always beats roughing it.” Sky stretched out his hand and the men shook.
“I’ll be sure to remember that. Thank you.”
Sky turned and headed back to the church as Trace mounted and rode out of the church yard.
Brooke worried as she watched Sky come back to their table. She had watched with apprehension as Sky followed the mountain man outside, knowing he was going out to question him. Surely now he knew that she had lied to him and would question her again about who she really saw in the alley that night.
But Sky didn’t say a word. He merely pulled out her chair and escorted her to the door, a somber look on his face.
14
Brooke couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so confused—so refreshed and so terrified all at once. To openly grieve had been therapeutic. First for her baby girl and then for her family at the funeral. Even so, the threats to Sky and herself constantly lingered in the back of her mind.
Were it not for that she would feel free. Almost.
Her memories had been healing ones. Before her time with Uncle Jackson life had not been so bad. Yes, Father had been abusive at times but usually only when he had indulged in too much drink. At least he had been predictable, although surly, when sober. Uncle Jackson, on the other hand, was never predictable.
The ride home with Sky and the other men on Monday was a solemn one. Two men from Lewiston accompanied them back to Pierce City to help with the ongoing murder investigation. Many more men had promised that they would follow on Tuesday to assist in any way they could.
They had ridden hard and arrived home late Monday night. As soon as feasible on Tuesday morning, Sky rode into town to
continue the investigation and see if any new evidence came to light while he was in Lewiston.
Brooke barred the door as soon as Sky left home.
Percival could show up at any time. With every creak and natural shudder of the house she tensed up and stared at the door in fear, expecting it to come crashing in, followed by the dangerous madman.
She knew she was being silly and that if she just stopped thinking about it so much she wouldn’t be so afraid, but she couldn’t keep her mind off his threats. Finally in desperation, she picked up Sky’s well-used Bible and began to read.
On Wednesday morning Sky left just as early and Brooke again rushed to get chores done so she could bar herself into the house and lose herself in the Bible stories.
That night Sky came home late in the evening and dropped into his chair at the table with a sigh. He made no comment about the fact that Brooke had to get up and unbar the door for the second night in a row so he could get into the house.
Removing his black Stetson, he tossed it on the table and leaned over, elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands. He sat this way for only a moment, then ran both hands back through his curly blond hair and raised his head. He looked toward Brooke with a tired smile.
Brooke moved to get his dinner, which she had kept warm on the back of the stove. As she set his plate in front of him with a steaming cup of black coffee she asked, “Bad day?”
Sky stared at his mashed potatoes and gravy absently. “No, not really. Just tiring, I guess. We have made eight arrests now.”
Brooke could tell by his tone that something still bothered him. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
Sky sighed again, running a hand back through his hair. “It is good. But it could be bad, too. I’m just not sure that the men are going about the investigation the right way.”
Brooke sat down across from him with a mug of coffee cupped in her hands. “How is that?”
Sky shook his head, his food still untouched. “I just...” He shook his head again and turned to stare at the percolating coffee pot, its lid gently bumping with a metallic clatter. “The only motive that they’ve even considered is that Lee Chang had this done to Fraser because of a disagreement he and Fraser had a couple of months back.” Sky told Brooke the story of the bogus gold.
“That’s awful. Poor Jenny. Did you have to arrest Lee?”
Sky nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“But you don’t think he did it?” Her mind went once again to Percival slinking down the alley. Why had he been so adamant that no one know he’d been in town on the night of the murder? Was he the murderer himself?
Brooke’s conscience gripped her. Eight men had been arrested. What if they were all innocent, but were convicted because she was too scared to speak up and tell the truth? Could she live with that on her conscience for the rest of her life? What part did Percival have in this? She hadn’t actually seen him commit any crime, but she knew he had been up to no good or he wouldn’t care who knew he’d been in the alley that night. Her mind jerked back to what Sky was saying.
“That’s just it. I think Chang had something to do with it, but there’s more to the story than we are seeing at the moment. I simply can’t figure out what it is. And none of the men think there is any validity in what I am saying.”
“What about that man I saw in the alley? Do you think he had something to do with this?”
His penetrating eyes swung to her face and he looked at her long and hard. She brought her hands to her lap and began rubbing them together, then clenched them there, suddenly wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject. His eyes held a knowing look. Again, she wished she could tell him the truth. Again, she reminded herself that his safety depended on her keeping her silence. She looked away.
Finally, he shrugged. “Could be, but at this point nothing seems to fit together.” Sky’s gaze dropped to the table; his shoulders slumped in weariness.
He picked up a spoon and began playing with it on the table top. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.” His voice was tight and tired.
Brooke reached across the table and rested one of her hands on the back of his. She patted his hand. “I’m sorry, Sky,” was all she said, but she hoped he would be encouraged by her understanding. If anyone knew what it meant to have lost a loved one, it was her. She wished she could think of something more to say but instead she got up and went across the room to finish reading the passage she had started.
When Sky finished eating, she expected him to go straight out to the barn as he had every night recently, but he surprised her by asking, “Do you know how to handle a gun?”
“What?” Surely, she hadn’t heard him right. She sat up straighter and laid the Bible on the quilt by her side, her bare feet peeking out from under the hem of her dark blue skirt. Where had that question come from?
Sky’s expression softened as he crossed the room to sit on the end of the bed. “You’re reading my Bible?”
She nodded, looking down at the book. Then a thought flashed through her mind. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Have you come across anything interesting?”
“I like the stories about Jesus the best. He is a very interesting man.”
“Your eyes change color,” Sky said, suddenly changing the subject. “Did anyone ever tell you that?”
Brooke blinked at him. He had gone from talking about guns, to talking about the Bible, to talking about the color of her eyes. She shook her head in confusion.
“When you are wearing green, your eyes are green, and when you wear blue, your eyes turn blue. I noticed that first day when you came out of the cabin and had changed into your green dress. I had been sure your eyes were a beautiful blue, but then, there I was, looking into a pair of the prettiest green eyes I had ever seen.” He winked at her.
Brooke blushed and looked away.
He eyed her appreciatively before saying, “There are going to be a whole bunch of men here tomorrow to ‘help’ conduct this trial. A whole lot more than we will need. I want to be able to concentrate and not be worrying about whether or not you’re all right. So...do you know how to handle a gun?”
“N-no, I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never tried before.” Brooke couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Uncle Jackson and Hank would never... Well, Sky Jordan was nothing like them.
Sky reached down and tweaked one of the bare toes poking out from under her skirt. “Put some shoes on and meet me in the barn.”
Jason Jordan lay on his bed at the boarding house in town with his ankles crossed. He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he had been trying for years to figure out a way to pay Lee Chang back for the death of his mother, and now the man languished in jail, about to go on trial for murder, his life at stake.
Jason reached under his mattress, pulled out a small flask, un-corked it, and lifted it to his lips. He took only a small swig. He wanted to be alert for the proceedings that would take place tomorrow. He needed to be able to think. What if Chang was exonerated? There had to be a way he could exact his revenge without the evidence pointing back to him. Surely, in a party the size of the one that was bound to show up tomorrow for the trial, there would be a few who would be angry enough to form a lynch mob if the Chinamen were absolved. What happened to the other men who had been arrested did not concern him. He only cared what happened to one; to finally avenge his mother’s death. Determination hardened his features.
Suddenly, Bible verses sprang into his mind unbidden—ones he had memorized as a boy around Grandma’s kitchen table:
My son, do not forget My teaching, but let your heart keep My commandments; for length of days and years of life and abundant welfare will they give you. Let not loyalty and faithfulness forsake you; bind them about your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good repute in the sight of God and man. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge Him, a
nd He will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones. Proverbs 3:1-8.
Agitated, Jason sat up and threw the flask against the wall. Why did those verses have to haunt him so? He was just about to see his desires fulfilled. Just about to see the end of the man who had caused him so much pain. Just about to be the happiest he had been in a long time. So why do I feel so empty?
Deep inside, he knew the answer. His desires were not right. His desires were irrefutably wrong. Life was God’s to give and God’s to take away. He had no right to take the life of another human being, no matter how terrible a person they might be. Love your enemies, the Bible said. Do good to those who persecute you. Where would that get him? Nowhere, that’s where. That’s why he had set all his childhood teaching aside and decided to do things his way. If God would not do anything to punish Lee Chang for all his barbarity, then Jason would take matters into his own hands and do something about it.
The issue resolved in his mind, he got up and walked over to retrieve the now empty flask. All the amber liquid had drained out onto the floor. Probably best anyway. I might have been tempted to drink the whole thing. When this is all over, I need to get a grip on this drinking thing.
He shoved the empty flask back under his mattress and lay back down, one hand tucked behind his head, to form a plan.
Ping paced back and forth anxiously, no longer alone in his cell. Seven other men now shared the two jail cells with him.
Rubbing his hands across his face he tried to erase the terrible images of that murderous night from his mind. But the harder he tried not to picture what had happened, the more he seemed to think of it.
Their orders had been to go in, shoot Fraser once during a volley of fire crackers, and then leave. However, Liam, one of his accomplices that night, had started to have a hallucination just as they walked into the back room where Fraser slept and had pulled a knife, stabbing him instead.
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