Weasel stepped around him, rubbing his ear. “I should bust you in the mouth.”
Instead, he went to reclaim his revolver.
“Where’s Deputy Stone?” Burt Alacord demanded. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”
It was pointless for Alonzo to continue to deceive them. “Dead,” he said, “thanks to Willy Boy Jenkins. Willy Boy is dead, too.”
“I’d celebrate if I had some whiskey,” Burt said. He glanced past Alonzo. “Did you hear, Cal? That back-stabber got what was comin’ for takin’ Jenna.”
“I heard,” Cal Grissom said. Striding past Alonzo, he stood next to Alacord. “You have a part in Willy’s dyin’, boy?”
“We were fightin’ over his six-gun,” Alonzo confessed, “and it went off.”
“Then I owe you,” Cal Grissom said.
“That you do, father.”
Alonzo hadn’t heard Jenna come up, yet suddenly she was at his side, a Winchester in the crook of her arm. She gave him a warm smile that he swore made his ears tingle.
“Did I hear right?” Jenna said. “You shot Spike Davis, too?”
“He was tryin’ to shoot me,” Alonzo explained.
Weasel returned, brushing dirt from his revolver. Satisfied it was clean, he shoved it into his holster and moved to the other side of Burt Alacord. “What are we to do with this tin star, gents?”
“Nothing,” Jenna Grissom said.
“That’s not for you to decide, daughter,” Cal Grissom said.
“I’m afraid it is,” Jenna said. “I happen to like him, father. He’s always been nice to me, always treated me with respect. Fact is, I’d like him to escort me to North Platte. I’d feel safer with him along. He fought the Sioux, he shot Willy, and now he came to save me from you.”
“I’d never harm a hair on your head, or let any of my men harm you, either,” Cal angrily declared.
“That didn’t stop Willy Boy, did it?”
Cal Grissom flushed with indignation. “Is that why you’re so all-fired set on parting company?”
“I want my old life back,” Jenna said. “I’m tired of always being on the move. I don’t like robbing people. I don’t like seeing people hurt. I talked myself hoarse pleading with you to give this life up, but you refused.”
“Daughter,” Cal Grissom said, and took a step.
Jenna leveled the Winchester. Not at any of the three in particular, but in their general direction. “Stay where you are.”
“What’s this?”
“You’re going to hear me out. Then I’m leaving, and Deputy Grant is going with me.” Jenna shook her head when her father went to move. “Don’t. I mean it. I want you to listen, and that’s all.”
“You’re being unreasonable,” Cal Grissom said.
“Me?” Jenna said. “Who came all the way from California to see you? Who had high hopes that at long last we could be together? Not just for a few months but for the rest of our lives? Who would have done anything to make that come true?”
“Things aren’t always as simple as—”
“Don’t,” Jenna said, cutting him off. “You say you care but you’re not willing to change. Your outlaw ways means more to you than I do.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Oh, really?” Jenna said. “Suppose you explain it to me. Explain why a father would rather rob and kill than be with his own flesh and blood?”
“It’s the only thing I know.”
“That’s your excuse?” Jenna said, incredulous. “You can change. People start new lives all the time. All it takes is the will to try something new. Is that too much to ask?”
Alonzo had seldom seen anyone look as miserable as Cal Grissom. The outlaw gazed sadly skyward, then bowed his head and let out a sigh.
“I’ve been at this too long to give it up. It’s not that I love it more than I care for you. I don’t. But I’ve done it for so long, it’s more than a way of life. It’s me, if that makes any sense.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I’m not a virtuous man, Jenna. I’m not like that young lawman, there. Or Jacob Stone, for that matter. I don’t see anything wrong in helping myself to things that don’t belong to me. I don’t see anything wrong in having to shoot someone now and then. I live as a I please, beholden to no one. And I do it because it’s who I am. Just as wearing that badge and upholding the law is who your friend is.” Cal looked at Alonzo. “Tell her, boy. Tell her I’m right. That we’re born into this world with our natures already set, and nothing we do can change that.”
Alonzo thought of all his impersonations. Of being a parson, a gambler, a Civil War veteran. A lawman. He thought of how easy it was to go from one role to the next. All it took was a change of clothes, and a change in how he presented himself. Jenna was right. Anyone could do it. All it took was the will. Cal Grissom was wrong, dead wrong.
But if he said that, Cal might rethink things, might decide to give up the outlaw life and go with her to start anew. And where would that leave him? Nodding, he said, “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Grissom.”
“There,” Cal said, vindicated. “You heard him.”
“I still don’t agree,” Jenna said. “But it’s your life. Live it as you will. As for me, I’m leaving, and my friend is going with me, and no one, not Burt nor Weasel or you, is to try and stop us.”
“Uppity, ain’t she?” Weasel said.
“No,” Cal said. “Let her go. Him, too. It’s the least I can do after all she’s been through.”
“Glad that’s settled,” Burt Alacord said, and twirled his pistols into their holsters. “But it doesn’t seem right, him shootin’ the Prussian and we don’t do anything.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” Cal Grissom said. “He gets to live.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Burt said.
Jenna held her Winchester out to Alonzo, went to her father, and embraced him. “Thank you,” she said softly, and kissed him on the cheek.
Cal Grissom coughed, then said, “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Jenna turned, squared her shoulders, and walked past Alonzo, saying, “Are you coming, handsome?”
“You bet,” Alonzo said. He figured he’d wait a few days to tell her he wasn’t really a deputy, and if she was still interested, follow her to the ends of the earth. He quickly caught up, his arm brushing hers.
Jenna gave him a sheepish grin. “This didn’t end as you thought it would, did it?”
“It ended just right,” Alonzo Pratt said.
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Guns on the Prairie Page 25