He was in the first cell she came to. He jumped to his feet when he saw her, stopping her in her tracks with his coldly furious gaze.
"Have you come to gloat, or are you here to make sure I hang next to Hen?"
The vehemence of his words shocked Fern. It didn't surprise her that he was embarrassed for her to see him in jail, but it never occurred to her he would think she wanted to see him hang. That hurt almost as much as the pain in her chest.
After what you've said about his brother, how would he know that?
Didn't he know she only felt that way because she wanted to see Troy's killer punished? She didn't dislike the Randolphs, and she didn't dislike him, at least not anymore. It was his reason for being in Abilene she hated.
"I was worried. I knew you couldn't kill Pike." She held up the basket. "I brought you some breakfast."
"You ought to be a happy woman today," Madison said, ignoring the proffered food. "Two Randolph brothers in jail and not likely to get out soon. Now if you can just get George to do something foolish -- but that won't be easy because George is not a foolish man -- you can have all three of us locked away. But if you plan to hang us, you're going to need a lot of ropes. There are more Randolphs where these came from."
"They're not going to hang you," Fern said. "Amos said it wasn't your fault."
He paced his cell like a caged animal, his anger curbed and dangerous. "This is a Randolph you're talking about, a dude, a fancy eastern lawyer trying to circumvent justice, a Boston snob who looks down his nose at anybody not born and bred in the original thirteen. You know it's my fault."
"Madison, do you think it's fair to--" Hen interrupted.
"I'm just repeating the things she said to me," Madison said, "with an occasional contribution from you and George. I don't want her to think I'm in very good standing with anybody."
"Amos told me everything that happened."
"And you believed him? I'm disappointed."
"I know I haven't been very nice to you, but I never thought anybody would blame you for what happened to me. I certainly never intended for Reed to imply that . . . to say . . . I . . ."
Fern was so upset she could hardly keep her voice under control.
"You expect me to believe that fight wasn't your idea, that two people who'd never seen me before just walked up and picked a fight?"
"You can't really believe I'd set somebody on you."
"Why not? It would have been a convenient way to get rid of me, settle Hen's hash, and make sure George never brought any more cows to Abilene. A Randolph-free town. I thought that's what you wanted."
He wasn't listening to a word she said. He was convinced she had paid Reed and Pike to attack him, and nothing she said seemed able to punch through his anger.
"You're twisting what I said."
"Tell me what you said."
What had she said? A lot of things she regretted now.
"I said a lot of things I shouldn't have," Fern shot back, "but I'd never sink low enough to ask somebody else to drive you out of town. I'd do that myself."
Madison hooked her with his fiery gaze. "After what has happened to me in the last two days, there is nothing on God's green earth that's going to get me out of this town until I've finished what I came to do. I don't know what you did or didn't do. I don't care what you meant or didn't mean. I didn't shoot Pike Carroll and Hen didn't kill your cousin. And before I'm done, every person in this town is going to know it."
"I didn't--"
"Now you'd better get back to Mrs. Abbott's. I've got some sleep to catch up on. After your fall yesterday, you've got no business being out of bed. You must be hurting like hell."
She looked at the food she had brought and felt like an idiot. He wouldn't eat it. He'd probably think she had poisoned it.
She was glad anger helped numb the pain. She didn't want him know what it cost her to come see him; she wouldn't give him the pleasure of feeling sorry for her. She wanted to be able to hate him with a clear conscience.
"I don't know why I bothered to come," Fern said. "You are incapable of understanding human kindness."
"I don't think I'm incapable," Madison said, appearing to give the idea serious thought, "but after being met at the train with verbal pitchforks, it's a little difficult to believe you've developed a kindly interest in my welfare."
"You haven't changed a bit," Fern replied.
"Of course I haven't. I'm the same person who left Boston to defend his brother, who took you to Rose when you refused to see a doctor, and who tried to keep himself from being murdered by your henchmen. It's your perception of me that keeps changing."
"That was my mistake," Fern declared, throwing the food down on a table outside his cell. "You're everything I thought from the very beginning." She spun on her heel and headed toward the door.
"I'm so glad to hear that," Madison called after her. "I hate to disappoint people."
The slamming door shook the frame building.
"If that's a sample of how you behave in Boston, I bet you have all the dowagers clamoring to invite you to tea," Hen said sarcastically.
"Actually they do. As strange as it may seem, I'm thought to be a very charming fellow -- friendly, cheerful, amusing, always to be depended upon to do the right thing. Something must have happened when I crossed the Mississippi."
He had scored a clear victory, he had foiled Fern's every attempt to feel sorry for him, but it was a sour triumph. He had no trouble controlling his temper in Boston. Why couldn't he do it here? He had a reputation for being able to talk anybody into anything, even if they hated it, but here he couldn't open his mouth without making everybody furious with him.
The basket of food leveled its silent condemnation.
Last night he was hoping Fern would come to see him. Today she came, and he had done everything in his power to drive her away. What was it about Fern, this town, his family that caused him to act completely unlike himself? His teachers had always told him he could solve any problem with his mind. Well, it wasn't working.
"Nobody told me the fight was over Fern Sproull," Hen said. "I hope you get me out of jail soon. This is one courtship I don't want to miss."
"Go to hell!" Madison growled.
* * * * *
"You had no business out of bed," Rose scolded as she settled the nightgown over Fern's head and tucked her in. "I wouldn't be surprised if you have to stay in an extra day."
"I hate him," Fern fumed. "He's the most stubborn, hateful, sarcastic, narrow-minded man I've ever met. He has no concept of human kindness, not in himself or in anyone else."
"He has no proper manners, either," Mrs. Abbott added, unwilling to forget Madison's strong-arming his way past her.
"I don't see how he can be your husband's brother," Fern went on. "George never says a cross word to me, even though he knows I think Hen killed Troy. But Madison . . . "
Words failed her, but they didn't fail Mrs. Abbott.
"Mr. Randolph is a true gentleman," she said. "And he's ever so kind to my Ed, the poor fatherless boy."
"Madison has been under considerable strain since he got here," Rose said. "Perhaps this is not his typical behavior."
"I should think not," Mrs. Abbott stated. "It would give me a very strange notion of Boston society."
"I don't know how he usually behaves, and I don't want to know," she fumed, ignoring Mrs. Abbott's pretensions. "I just want him to go back to Boston as soon as they let him out of jail. He despises everything here, and I'm sure we don't think any more of him."
"I don't," Mrs. Abbott said, casting her lot firmly against Madison. "You should exercise great care to keep him away from your little boy," she said to Rose. "It would be a terrible shame if he was to corrupt that darling, precious child."
"If William Henry can survive the influence of his other uncles, not to mention about a dozen very rough cowhands, he'll have nothing to fear from Madison," Rose answered, rather sharply. "Now Miss Sproull could use some mo
re breakfast. She didn't eat anything earlier. She'll never get well that way."
"I should say not," Mrs. Abbott echoed. "I'll be right in with it."
"Take your time," Rose said. "I want her to be more calm before she puts anything on her stomach."
"Very wise," Mrs. Abbott agreed. "You can never be too careful of a delicate stomach."
"I don't have a delicate stomach," Fern stated the moment the door closed behind Mrs. Abbott. "In fact, my father says I have no delicacy at all."
"I thought you needed to be free of Mrs. Abbott for a while. I know I do."
Fern smiled. "She is a bit overpowering."
"She's convinced everyone she likes is kind and generous. If she doesn't like you . . . well you know what she said about Madison."
"In his case it's deserved."
Rose sat down on the end of the bed. She spent so long studying her, Fern started to feel uncomfortable.
"Do you really want to understand Madison?" Rose asked. Her gaze was particularly penetrating. "Answer me truthfully. Not for my sake, but for his. And possibly yours."
"I g-guess so," Fern admitted reluctantly, unsure of what Rose was getting at. "I had started to think he might be a really nice person. But after this morning," she said, her anger flowering again as she remembered his words, "I'm sure I was wrong."
"I've seen less of Madison than you have," Rose began, "but I know a little of his history. However, it's quite painful. I would hate to think you might use it against him."
"I'd never do that," Fern said, unable to understand why Rose seemed to have the same reservations about her as Madison. "Contrary to his beliefs, not everyone in Kansas is insensitive."
"Madison had a very difficult time growing up," Rose began, apparently deciding to ignore Fern's last charge. "None of the boys learned how to love or trust anyone."
"Why?"
"As best as I can determine, a brutal, abusive drunk for a father and an ineffectual, weak-willed mother. During the war, Madison disappeared leaving the twins to run the ranch by themselves. His brothers never forgave him."
"But he came back to help Hen. Doesn't that make a difference?"
"Apparently not. Even George, and he's as fair a man as I know, can't quite forget."
"Didn't he tell them why he left?"
"He told them last night when George went to the jail."
"What did he say?"
"You'll have to ask him."
"I can't ask him a question like that."
"Maybe he'll tell you. He seems to like you."
"You wouldn't think that if you'd heard him a few minutes ago."
"For God's sake, Fern, you drove the man out of here last night in a temper after he'd ridden miles holding you in the saddle. Then he goes to a saloon and your hired hands pick a fight and try to kill him. When he tries to defend himself, and your reputation I might add, they throw him in jail. What do you expect of him? He's not a saint, but he'd need the faith of one to believe you weren't behind it."
"But I wouldn't do anything like that."
"How's he to know that? By your own admission, you met him at the train with threats to run him out of town. I can't speak for Madison, but it would look to me like those men were trying to help you keep your promise."
Fern was horrified. She hadn't meant for Madison to take her anger personally. She was fighting to see justice done. It had nothing to do with Madison himself. She would have been furious at any lawyer the Randolphs hired.
But hadn't she taken his words as a personal attack on her? Maybe they had no more to do with her than hers had to do with him. Maybe he was just reacting as he would to anyone who treated him as she had.
"Not that his brothers have been much better," Rose added. "I had a good deal to say to Hen and George last night. I hope it has some effect, but I don't know. Some of this family's wounds go so deep nothing can heal them."
"Do you really think he believes I hate him?" Fern asked.
"I don't see how he can think anything else. I was very doubtful myself."
"But I don't," Fern protested. "I don't even hate Hen, and he killed Troy."
The friendliness left Rose's expression and her voice turned hard. "As long as there is no eye witness to Troy's murder, I think you should at least give Hen the benefit of the doubt. Madison, George, and I all agree Hen couldn't have killed Tory. That ought to count for something."
It was easy to see that however much Rose might sympathize with Fern, her loyalties were unquestionably with her husband's family.
"But somebody killed him, and the only evidence points to Hen."
"What did Madison find yesterday?"
In the aftermath of her fall, Fern had forgotten that Madison had raised some doubts in her mind.
"Madison thinks someone else killed Troy, carried his body to the Connor place, and tried to blame it on Hen."
"Did he tell you why?"
"He said he never did believe Hen was guilty, so he started looking for who might have wanted to kill Troy and blame Hen. The body's being stiff and it being too dark to see support his theory."
"That seems reasonable."
"But why would anybody here want to kill Troy? Everybody has known him for years."
"I know nothing about your cousin," Rose said. "Just don't dismiss Madison's ideas because you're mad at him. You may not be able to believe in the integrity of the family as I do, but you ought to be able to respect his intelligence."
The door opened to admit Mrs. Abbott carrying a tray loaded with pots, plates, and cups.
"Your breakfast," she chirped. "And you're to eat every bite while it's hot. It'll make you feel better."
But Fern hardly tasted any of the food she put in her mouth, or heard any of Mrs. Abbott's endless chatter as she tidied the room for the second time that morning. Her head was filled with Rose's words.
Suppose Troy had been killed by somebody else. The thought sent chills down her spin. It could be almost anybody. She could have talked to his killer a half dozen times since his death.
Even her own father.
Of course her father wouldn't kill anybody, but Madison felt the same way about his brother. If she was going to accept her father's innocence on faith, she had to at least consider the possibility of Hen's innocence. But the more she thought, the more possibilities she found to consider. The only easy thing was to hold to her conviction that Hen was guilty.
But she couldn't. Madison had shaken her confidence in Hen's guilt.
And just about everything else.
* * * * *
Madison remained in jail for two days before Pike recovered sufficiently to tell the marshal what really happened.
"You're fortunate," Marshal Hickok said when he released Madison.
"Fortunate has nothing to do with it," Madison said, not the least impressed by Hickok's reputation. "You never had a case against me."
"Shame you can't say the same for your brother," Hickok replied, nettled by Madison's reply. He was used to everyone being a little afraid of him. This brash eastern lawyer's self-assurance didn't sit well with him. Come to think of it, he didn't like any of the Randolphs very much. George treated him with courtesy, but Hickok suspected it had more to do with his position than with himself. As for Hen Randolph, Hickok couldn't find much of anything that boy did respect. He just plain didn't care.
"If you'll take some advice--" Hickok began.
"People have been giving me advice from the moment I stepped off the train," Madison said, not even bothering to look up as he prepared to leave the jail. "But it was all concerned with their own comfort, not mine." Madison put on his coat, smoothed a few wrinkles out of his pants, and emerged from the cell. "So I've decided not to listen to any more."
"That might not be a good idea," Hickok said.
"Leaving Boston wasn't a good idea," Madison said, "but now that I'm here, I intend to finish what I came to do."
"And what's that?" Hickok knew. Everybody in Abilene knew,
but he wanted to hear him say it.
"I mean to find out who killed Troy Sproull. And I mean to be standing right here when my brother walks out of that cell a free man."
"Not everybody gets what he wants," Hickok said.
"I do," Madison declared, and he walked out without a backward glance.
"Your brother always been that modest?" Hickok asked Hen after Madison had gone, irritation causing him to glare angrily at the retreating figure.
Hen chuckled softly. "Don't tangle with him, Marshal. He'll tie you in knots."
"Ain't nobody done it yet," Hickok said, not without some pride.
"Maybe not, but you haven't run up against Madison before."
Madison checked his appearance to make certain no signs remained of his stay in prison. He was about to leave for Mrs. Abbott's, and he had been cursing out loud for the last several minutes. He was going to see George and Rose. But he was also going to see Fern.
That's why he was cursing.
He knew he had to apologize for his behavior. No matter what she had said to him when he arrived in Abilene, no matter what she'd done to irritate him since, once he'd calmed down enough to think rationally, he didn't believe she had had anything to do with the attack on him. As usual, he couldn't think straight where she was involved.
Maybe it would help if they stopped fighting every time they met. She had every right to want her cousin's murderer punished just as he had ever right to want Hen cleared of the charges. She had no reason to dislike him, at least not if he stopped behaving like an arrogant hothead. If he couldn't convince her of Hen's innocence, how could he hope to convince a judge and a jury?
Besides, he had a job to do, and their running battle was distracting him. Every time she got him angry, he struck back. Then he'd start to feel guilty and think he needed to apologize. And that would make him angry. By then all he could think of was Fern, not Hen.
He was developing a grudging respect for her. She treated him rotten, but she took her medicine without whining and complaining. He couldn't understand why he wanted her to like him. How could he like anything about this savage land?
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