by Patty Devlin
So as soon as she got into her seat and he settled in next to her, she asked, “You’re going to go, aren’t you?” She tried to temper her excitement and be sensitive to the fact that his father had passed.
“We just talked about it and I told you I don’t know. I haven’t decided and I might not be able to anyway.” His irritation was clear by the hard edge of his voice.
“No, to the lawyer’s office, to meet your brothers. I shouldn’t have read the letter, but it had fallen on the floor and I couldn’t help myself. I know that your father was a scoundrel, but it would be really fun to meet brothers you didn’t know you had.” Jackson stared straight ahead. The muscles of his cheek clenched as if he were in pain. “You didn’t read it, did you?”
“I tried.”
Celia opened her mouth to speak. She almost asked him why he hadn’t asked her for help, but she knew the answer to that. The best thing she could do was to not make a big deal out of his inability to read. A lot of people didn’t care if they “had learning” still at this great date, but it was obvious it meant something huge to Jackson.
“I’d be dying of curiosity if I were you, although there wasn’t anything really informative in it. It was just a notice for the reading of the will, but the interesting thing is that it said your brothers will be there. I’ll read it to you when we get home, if you want.”
*****
“It says,
“My Dear Sir,
“The purpose of this correspondence is to express my sincere sympathy at the passing of your father, Mr. John Hastings, on the 18th day of May of this year. Upon his death, the disbursement of his estate fell to me, his attorney.
“Does that mean you have an inheritance?” Celia asked, looking to him while he looked at the letter over her shoulder. She sat on his lap in the big chair by the fireplace in their quaint little home. There wasn’t a fire banked as they had deemed it too fine a day. He tried to act as though it was nothing for her to read the letter to him, but it was destroying all of his self-worth. She must think him a complete idiot.
“I doubt it. He wanted nothing to do with me, and I don’t care. I don’t want any money. Just finish reading the letter.” His teeth hardly separated while he spoke. Thankfully, Celia didn’t drag it out any further.
“Please, with all due haste, arrange to arrive for the reading of his final will and testament to my offices on the 22nd of July at 2 o'clock. Your brothers will also be in attendance.
“Sincerely,
“Hobart St. James, Esquire”
Letting the letter rest on her lap, Celia turned on his thigh so she could look at him. “Did you have any idea you had brothers? I mean, I don’t know anything about him… Mr. Hastings.” She hesitated to call him Jackson’s father.
He sighed. “No, I tried to talk to him once. It was more than enough for me.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about him.” He leaned and trailed his fingertips down her cheek, down her neck, down her arm.
“Jackson, I can help you learn to read. I can give you lessons.” Celia folded the letter again as neat as could be.
“I don’t want to talk about that either. I have a lesson for you. You know you’re still in trouble, right?” Jackson kissed her low on the back of her neck and started pulling the pins out of her hair. He loved it when her glorious mane of honey wheat hair hung freely down her back, especially when she was naked and her hair fell in a dance along the tops of her bottom cheeks.
He lifted her from his lap and led her to their room and over to the bureau where he placed the hair pins. After his fingers had deftly freed her hair, they continued to the bodice of her dress to begin the long trail of tiny buttons. It wasn’t long before the dress fell and then her chemise after.
Perhaps it was the husky way she growled in his ear, the passionate intensity of her blue eyes when they locked on his in the looking glass, or the way she fluttered her lashes at him and said, “Trouble? Why, I’m sure I’ve done nothing.” His heart was sunk. He would do anything for her.
“Yes, trouble. We still have to deal with the situation of snooping. Young ladies who snoop through other people’s belongings need to be punished.” He pulled her backwards toward the bed and easily manipulated her over his lap.
“Wait! It was for a good reason…” she cried out, but her bottom lifted up to meet his hand. He made sure to control each smack so that it gave just the right sting without being too painful, hopefully building up a nice heat. He loved the way her bottom turned bright pink with each hand print. He moved around, coloring her whole bottom evenly from her full cheeks to the tops of her thighs.
He continued to lecture her as well, and he could tell that his words had a huge effect on Celia. “Now you, young lady, will stay out of things that don’t belong to you. How would you feel if one of your students snooped through your stuff?” Her moaning, grinding against him, and opening her legs just about did him in. He had to get his breeches off fast. So much for trying to get the point across without being too harsh.
Chapter Seven
Celia gathered her lunch pail and school bag with apprehension. She knew Jackson well enough by now to know he would not like Hugh Farley walking her and Frankie back to the boarding house the second day he’d been gone. It definitely wasn’t the arrangement that had been set up prior to him leaving. No, good-natured Mr. Ormsby had agreed to escort the duo back to Mrs. Owens’s each day. But Hugh had shown up the day before and said he’d be working at the sawmill and coming right by the school house so it’d be silly for Mr. Ormsby to come all that way when he would be going the same direction.
Hugh was more than likely a really nice person. Celia drew in a deep breath as she glanced around the empty school room one more time before leaving for the day. The door clicked behind her with a jarring finality against the chatter and laughter in the school yard. She motioned to Frankie that she was ready and gave Hugh her best fake smile.
She couldn’t see any way to get out of the situation, and yet she was most uncomfortable, even with the presence of his sons and Frankie. Her tension started to build and even spilled over more, as she thought about how unfair it was of Jackson, leaving her in such a predicament. The school board had chosen him as a husband for her because a single woman wasn’t safe. She was practically a single woman now, if he could just take off whenever he felt the urge and stay gone for however long he wanted.
At night, she tossed and turned in the big bed and punched the spare pillow on what she deemed as his side even if it wasn’t their own bed. He should be in bed with her; she’d grown used to having his body next to her every night, even if it had only been two months or so. When he came back, she was going to let him know just what she thought of him taking off willy-nilly whenever.
On the third evening, she mentioned her concerns about walking home with Hugh to Susanna. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was when her friend laughed. “Honey, I don’t think he’s interested in you. He was hanging round the back door chatting with Mama yesterday. Did you notice that supper was running late? No, I wouldn’t be concerned about him, but you might be right about Jackson acting a fool about it.”
“Isn’t Hugh younger than your mother?” The two ladies were sitting in the parlor and, oddly enough, it was empty of all but them. Celia held a sheaf of papers to read before the next day, but she couldn’t concentrate.
“Yes, I’m sure he is. I don’t think either of them cares, and if he makes Mama’s cheeks flush like that and that smile appear out of nowhere sometimes… well, I think she deserves to be happy. Who cares what society deems correct.” Susanna pushed a thick lock of dark hair that had fallen down into her face behind her ear and stabbed her needle through the thick denim of the pants she was mending. “Don’t you agree?”
“Oh yes, of course. Your mother is beautiful and full of life, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with Hugh. I mean, Jackson doesn�
�t like him, but his boys really are good children.” Celia sighed and looked down at her papers again, but her mind still wasn’t on them.
“That’s not the only thing troubling you. What is it?” Susanna had just tied off the thread, so she gave all of her attention to Celia.
“It’s just this… this… absence. Doesn’t it bother you? Them running off on a lark, leaving us and not knowing when they will return—or if they will return. Don’t you worry?”
“Oh, yes. I worry, but it doesn’t help anything. And I know that Byron wants to be at home as much as I want him here. I’m sure it is the same for Jackson. The life of a lawman’s wife isn’t easy, but you have to remember why they are doing it. As soon as they find them outlaws, we can all breathe a little bit easier. I don’t know if you heard, but they held up a stage the other day and one man was shot defending his wife. Thankfully, money is the only thing the gang got away with that time, but sadly, the woman’s husband died.”
“Oh, no! That is terrible. Do you know who she is? Can we do something for her?” Celia cupped her hands over her mouth.
“She took the train back East as soon as they put him in the ground. That was why our men wanted to get out there. They hoped to be able to find their trail if the rain holds off. Let’s just pray they find them and capture them without any harm to themselves. Then maybe they won’t have to keep taking off like this.”
*****
“I can’t believe the trail just ends. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that they had someone lay it out here like this to lead us astray,” Byron said and scratched his head.
“Nah, I seen it like this before. It’s just the difference in the ground. Back there was wet and it would’ve been time-consuming trying to cover their tracks. Out here, it’s all dried up, and so it didn’t leave any prints. Once they got here, they felt they were safe so they could take the time to make sure that they didn’t leave any other traces behind.” Old Solomon had been in Denver the longest. He’d been the sheriff up until a couple years ago.
“This is less than a mile from where we lost their trail last time. That’s what has me curious. They have to be around here.” Jackson studied the brush looking for any breakage, anything that would point him in the right direction.
One of the younger deputies joined in, saying, “Farleys live just east of that rise. Seems like if the gang have been out this way, Hugh would know something.”
“Yeah, we checked all that out last time. Talked to all of his boys. None of ‘em seen a thing. I just don’t understand how we can follow their trail for four days only to come full circle—with nothing new. I do believe we’ve been led around by our noses.” Jackson shook his head and looked at Byron. “But why?”
*****
“Hello, Mr. Farley. I’m surprised to see you here so early. You look troubled. Can I help you with something?” Celia didn’t have to look at her pocket watch to know how early he was. It was lunch hour, and she had just dismissed the kids for recess.
Just then, a gunshot rang out, and she bolted out of her chair and around her desk. A man was yelling from somewhere outside, telling the children to go home. Celia would’ve run out there, but Hugh stopped her, coming down the aisle with his hands up, palms toward her.
“Please, Mrs. Owens. You have to listen. You have to trust me and work with me. Your life and my little Donnie’s life depends on your playing—” His voice was cut off by the entry of whom she presumed was the loudmouth with the gun—and he was carrying her kicking and hollering nephew. Hugh came closer like he was going to grab her, but he was mouthing something to her. She might be making a huge mistake, but she made a snap decision. So when he mouthed the word, “faint,” she pretended to do it.
“Well, isn’t that just like a damn girl?” Hugh snorted. “Give me that kid, and I’ll shut him up. You tie her up. I can’t tie knots.”
“You ain’t going nowhere, pansy man.” Celia had to work hard to keep her features still when she heard the man’s half-crazy laugh. She wanted to shudder.
“No, I got the rope right here. I just need you to tie her.” She didn’t know where “right here” was for that matter. She hadn’t noticed him carrying rope, but Hugh’s voice was getting closer, and so were the footsteps of the stranger and his stench. It took everything in her to lay there when she could hear Frankie fighting.
As soon as the man locked his fingers on her wrist, there was a fleshy thud, and then the stinking scoundrel fell on top of her. Frankie stopped his yelling and she opened her eyes in a flash and shoved at the man. If he’d bathed in the last couple months he surely didn’t have a clue what soap was for. He smelled like the compost pile and Celia thought she might be ill before the beast was moved. Thankfully, Hugh helped to heft him from her.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Owens. I can’t explain it now, I have to get to Donnie.” He began to tie the man’s hands behind his back. It was then that she noticed the blood on the back of his head where Hugh must have struck him.
“What is going on? Who is he, and what is the matter with Donnie?” She hugged Frankie to her side.
“He’s with the Wilson gang, and one of them is holding Donnie hostage so I would hold you.” He was out of breath as he tried to explain and tie the man’s feet at the same time. Celia didn’t know whether she was happy the dirty scoundrel was alive or not when he moaned as Hugh rolled him over.
“What do they want with me?” she asked, shaking her head, baffled as Hugh pulled the ropes to check his work.
“It’s their back-up plan. To have you as a hostage, if they get busted at the bank. And they know the marshal’s favor will be where you are and not the bank. I have to go. They’ll kill Donnie if they find out about you.”
Celia followed him to the door, calling after him, “Wait! I’ll help you.”
“No way. I’m not putting you in more danger. Besides, you need to tell the sheriff to get to the bank. They’ll be coming here because of the gunshot.”
“Frankie can tell him; I’m coming with you.”
*****
Jackson didn’t have time to kick himself in the rear end, but he would definitely be doing it later. Only a fool wouldn’t have realized that that trail had been laid purposely, to keep them busy. That became all too clear when they came into town, and the sheriff, the two remaining deputies and many other townsmen were scattered, hiding behind anything they could, bearing arms and taking aim at the local bank. Thankfully, Jackson and Byron were able to sneak up to the bank’s rear door because nobody expected them back in town so soon.
They hid behind the huge steel door of the safe, watching and waiting as Buck Wilson yelled out the front of the building that everyone better just clear out because they were leaving and nobody better try and stop them. The problem as far as Jackson could tell was that there were six men in the gang but only four where he could see them.
He’d just thought it and leaned over to Byron when Buck answered his question.
“All of you need to put your guns away, we have hostages in two places. If we don’t make it out alive, neither will they. So, if you want to see that sweet little school teacher of yours before we all have a turn at her, you’ll let us leave out the back door, and there better not be even one of you on our tail.” The man might as well have stopped talking after he said teacher. The only thing Jackson heard after that was a boiling fury between his ears.
He had to get to Celia, but how?
He and Byron had no time to formulate a plan; the outlaws were coming toward them. Both men stepped back and flattened themselves against the building. Buck and Bill came first, which was no surprise as they were the brothers and the ring leaders. Jackson signed for Byron to wait until the next two came out, too.
Jackson didn’t know whether it was a good thing that young Clancy Dillon was with them or not. He and Jose Martinez were the youngest and most likely the easiest to overtake. It was good because there were just him and Byron and four of the others. If it
was a fist fight, Jackson would be fine with the odds, but when it came to guns, well, he was glad the gang’s amateurs were with them. But that meant that one of the foulest—Sam Parker—had the hostages, had Celia.
They couldn’t wait any longer. Jackson kicked Clancy in the back, catching him completely by surprise and knocking him forward into Buck. Fortunately for Jackson but not the Wilson gang, Clancy’s gun discharged, shooting Buck in the middle of his back. He didn’t stand a chance. The poor kid dropped his weapon and stood there in shock while Jackson spun around and chased after Bill.
Another shot had rung out just after Clancy’s and Jackson realized it was a shooter on the rooftop. He’d shot Bill Wilson’s gun hand, which was the reason the man had taken flight, running for his horse instead of turning his gun on them. Byron had kicked Jose, the greasy-haired Mexican kid, knocking his gun out of his hand, and then the two had begun to scrabble.
It was over with, the men subdued within minutes, but that seemed like a lifetime to Jackson. It couldn’t have been over soon enough for him. He had to get to Celia.
“Where is she?” He pressed Clancy against the side of the building, watching the kid’s eyes widen with fear.
“The school.”
“No, Jackson, she took off with Hugh Farley out to his place. They have Donnie hostage out there. Tucker and Mick rode out there to help, too.” Perhaps it was the murderous look that Jackson wore, but the sheriff went on. “She was already on her way and gone or we would have stopped her.”
Jackson didn’t look to the left or the right as he crouched over his faithful horse’s saddle. He knew without looking that Byron was by his side. He also knew that half the town was behind him. He prayed that Celia was safe. But then again, she wouldn’t be safe from him, because if she was okay, he was going to blister her rear end.