The Doctor's Daughter: A Virtue, Arizona Novel

by Patricia Green

  Knowing the outlaw would have to come from behind his rock in order to shoot, Joshua baited him by shooting first. He took a bead on the far boulder and shot. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the rock, but that was Joshua's intent. The man popped his head up briefly and shot wildly in Joshua's direction. Joshua, well hidden behind his boulder, escaped easily. Once again, he shot at the outlaw, drawing him out from behind his boulder for a split second. The man stuck his head up and shot. This one was closer, and Joshua ducked to avoid being hit.

  There were more shots, and ricochets all around the canyon. Nothing hit anyone and the shots seemed to be mostly fired overhead. Verity. She'd rightly assessed that things weren't going very well and was doing her job.

  Joshua scrabbled away from his boulder, keeping low and as silent as possible. Every once in a while, he'd come out and shoot at the criminal, knowing that he probably wouldn't get a lucky shot, but keeping the outlaw pinned behind his rock.

  Eventually, Joshua had gotten close enough to the bad guy's boulder to stand and point his weapon at the man's back. "Drop the rifle," he said, calm, cool, and deadly. "Put your hands up."

  Instead of obeying, the man suddenly swiveled and shot. It winged Joshua's hat, but otherwise did no damage. But now the fellow was facing Joshua, pointing his weapon. It was kill or be killed, so Joshua shot him. It was over that quickly. Slumping to one side, the man died from a shot to the heart.

  A shot from behind nearly hit Joshua in the ear, and he hollered. "Verity! Stop shooting, woman!"

  No more shots rang out.

  Now Joshua had to approach the still man lying under the overhang. He heard the buzz of the flies before he approached. As suspected, the fourth and final criminal was dead, and flies were all over his carcass.

  "It's safe to come out, Verity," he yelled.

  Disgusted but undaunted, Joshua hauled the bodies of the dead men to the wagon and secured them in the bed. That left just enough room for the two tied up.

  Verity came up, a bounce in her step. "I was pretty good, huh?"

  He nodded and smiled at her. "Yup."

  "What's that smell? Pee-yew!"

  "One of the outlaws was dead some time before we got here. He's begun to rot."

  Her face got a bit green. "Can't we just bury him or something?"

  "No shovel. Besides, we need him as evidence."

  "We do? Why?"

  "Just take my word for it."

  He moved the rifles out of the bed of the wagon to under the front seat, and, with a little help from Verity, muscled the tied men into the bed of the wagon. It was foul-smelling and sickening, but Joshua thought it was about right, seeing the men's eyes water and their gorge rise. He didn't see any reason not to remove their gags, so he did, and, of course, the men vomited as soon as their mouths were free. The dead men were just too smelly and gross for the prisoners to be side-by-side with and keep their composure.

  They walked away from the foul wagon and sat on the rocks by the campfire.

  "Where did you find that badge?" She asked, pointing to his chest.

  He realized that he hadn't told her his good news. "It's my badge, Verity. I'm a US Marshal." He offered his hand. "Name's Joshua Palmer. Nice to meet you."

  "Oh! Oh, Joshua!" She hugged him tight and jumped up and down against him. "I'm so happy. This is wonderful! Do you remember everything?"

  "Most everything, I think."

  She stepped back, her face getting serious. "Are you… I mean… do you remember…"

  "What?"

  "Are you married?"

  "Nope. Single. Never been married. I have a married brother and a married sister. I never found the right woman."

  She smiled, a little blush stealing into her cheeks. "But now you have?"

  He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. "Yes. Now I have."

  The sun was setting, so Joshua climbed up the side of the ravine and got Verity's horse. It wasn't much of a horse, but it had gotten her this far, so as far as Joshua was concerned, she was a fine animal.

  It was a bad time to try to move the prisoners. Instead he searched the campsite for food and worked with Verity to fix a meal. She was bubbly and ebullient, excited into yammering about knowing who he was. She had a million questions he tried to answer. Eventually, though, the day caught up with her and she began to yawn.

  "Get your bedroll," he told her. "Time for you to get some shut eye."

  "What about you? Wouldn't you like to… you know…"

  He'd very much like to "you know" but now was not the time or place. He told her as much. Although she looked disappointed, she also looked dog tired, and she must have thought better of her seduction. Once she crawled into her bedroll, she was asleep in seconds.

  Instead of joining her in slumber, he sat, guarding the prisoners until the next morning.

  It was a four-day journey back to Virtue, but he had no choice. He now knew that he was not the kind of man who casually shot prisoners because it was convenient. The outlaws had to be brought to justice, Joshua's honor had to be satisfied, and the people of Virtue had to be assured that they'd placed their faith and trust in a good man after all. Especially the Bucknells. They deserved to know the truth once and for all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Put your hands in the air, or I'll shoot you down like a dog," Gritch said.

  Joshua did as ordered. After all, Sheriff Gritch couldn't know that Joshua had brought the prisoners back.

  "Hey!" called one of the outlaws. "We been ambushed! This guy's a horse thief and murderer!"

  "Yeah!" yelled his partner.

  Gritch's gaze left Joshua long enough to spy the "little man" bringing up the rear of the party. His posse of five kept their weapons trained on Joshua and Verity. "Keep your hands where I can see 'em," Gritch said, then gestured toward one of his posse members to go around to the back of the wagon. The man did. Two other men of the posse pulled Joshua off the wagon and took his pistol.

  The one by Verity took the rifle from Verity's saddle and eased the six-shooter from the holster on her hip. "Hey!" he cried, looking up at her face. "This here's a woman!"

  "Naw," one of the other posse members said. "Can't be."

  "It is, I tell you." He pulled Verity roughly out of her saddle and marched her toward Gritch while she struggled. "See?"

  "Well, well, well," Gritch said, an evil smile on his face. "If it ain't Verity Bucknell. Your family wondered where you got to. I never wondered for a minute. You two," he said, gesturing toward Joshua, "is thick as thieves. You been in on this caper all the time? Were you in on the freight robbery too?" He got down from his horse. When Verity said nothing, he backhanded her, knocking her down. "Answer me, woman!"

  Joshua made a move to go to her aid, to beat the living daylights out of Gritch, posse be damned, but several men grabbed him and kept him away from her. Her lip was bleeding, but she was glaring at Gritch as though to kill him with her eyes. She said nothing.

  "I'll get the story from you, never doubt it." Gritch went back to his horse and got up. "What's in the wagon, Mickey?"

  "Got four men back here. Two look dead. Stink to high heaven. There's two others tied up."

  "Let me go," said a criminal. "I ain't done nothin' wrong. I'm an innocent victim."

  "Whatcha got to say for yourself, Smith?" asked the sheriff, addressing Joshua, a sneer twisting his mouth.

  Joshua nodded toward the badge on his own chest and said, "I'm Joshua Palmer, US Marshal. These are the four men who robbed the freight wagon and murdered those men. I can prove it."

  "Twern't me!" yelled one of the criminals.

  "It's a lie. I'm the marshal. He stole my badge," objected the other one.

  "Stop yer jawin'," barked Gritch. "We'll get this all straightened out in town." He squinted at the wagon. "What's under the seat? Mickey, go take a look."

  "Looks like… looks like a case of weapons. Rifles, Sheriff. And bullets. Lots of bullets."

  "You're
making a mistake, Sheriff," Joshua told him. "I can prove who I say I am. I have my memory back."

  "Shut up," Gritch said. "I got no cause to believe you any more than them fellers you got tied up in the wagon. Just 'cause you have a badge don't make you a marshal for real."

  Joshua sighed. "What do you want, Gritch? A signed letter from the President?"

  "Ha!" the sheriff jeered. "You got nothing I want."

  "Except Verity Bucknell," Joshua countered. "You just can't get over it, can you, Gritch? She's my girl and it chaps your ass." It was, in hindsight, probably not the most soothing thing to say to get on Gritch's good side, but Joshua was well and truly pissed by this time.

  Gritch shot at Joshua's feet. "Shut the fuck up, Smith. Like I said, you got nothing I want. That little slut isn't worth two whores at the Horn Inn."

  Joshua ground his teeth together. How he itched to wipe that smug smile off Gritch's face and show him who was the better man. But he didn't. He couldn't do more than struggle against the men who held him. He was at a complete disadvantage. "What do you propose to do now?"

  "You ride in the back of the wagon with the corpses. That ought to teach you a thing or two."

  It would be foul beyond belief, but Joshua could bear it.

  "Tie him up, Mickey," Gritch said.

  Mickey had to holster his weapon to carry out the order. Joshua seriously considered taking Mickey's gun from its holster and turning it on the sheriff and his men. But there were six of them and only one of him. Verity was back on her feet, but she had no weapon, and there was no way she could muscle any of the men down.

  If he stole Mickey's pistol, he'd have one bullet per man. But if you pointed a weapon at someone, you had to be ready to use it. It would be wrong to kill all these men, men who thought they were doing the right thing following the sheriff's orders. Men who had families in town, wives, mothers, children. Could he snuff out their lives because Gritch was a bastard?

  Joshua struggled and it took two more posse members to hold him down to be tied hand and foot. "You'll pay for this, Gritch," he told the sheriff.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up or I'll gag you, too."

  He had to believe the truth would come to light once back in Virtue. This was a temporary setback.

  * * *

  Once in Virtue, the group was ushered into jail cells. Verity got separated from Joshua several cells down. They couldn't talk without the other prisoners overhearing. Those men proclaimed their innocence loudly and often.

  Papa was allowed to see her. He came with a paper in his hand.

  "Verity! We've been so worried about you. I won't ask you what happened," he said, his eyes darting with meaning around at the other cells, "but it's a huge relief to have you back."

  "Thank you, Papa. I missed you." Seeing him brought up a well of emotion, fear, exhaustion. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, and ran down her face. When she wiped them away, her fingers came back dirty. She must look awful. It was a fleeting thought.

  "When we heard that Joshua was claiming he was a marshal, we wired the Marshal Service in Phoenix. This is what we got back." He read it aloud. "Joshua Palmer is a US Marshal. Stop. Works Arizona Territory. Stop. Currently on leave between assignments. Stop. Sending Marshal Abraham Hirsch to Virtue to investigate. Stop. Signed Walter Right US Marshal Service Phoenix. Stop."

  "Thank God, they're sending someone," Verity said.

  Papa tried to be positive, but his gaze said he was worried. "Yes, but it'll take time. Sheriff Gritch is talking about a trial. He wants to do it quick."

  Bitterness swept through Verity. "He wants to hang Joshua before any evidence supporting his claims can be found. God, how could I have ever considered Artemis Gritch as a possible suitor?"

  Gritch came into the room of cells. "Time's up. No more talking to your criminal daughter. She's going to hang for the jail break and aiding and abetting a murderer."

  "He's a US Marshal, Artemis!"

  "That's all a big lie. Probably thought up by your lying daughter. Now out."

  Papa left after giving Verity one more supportive look.

  * * *

  Verity didn't know what to expect when she was taken to the courtroom next to the jail in handcuffs. She'd had a chance to wash her face, and Charity had brought her a dress to wear, but she still felt dirty and downtrodden.

  The small courthouse attested to Virtue's designation as the Pine Grove County seat. They had a judge one day out of every fourteen, and there was always a full docket to be heard. Most hearings were not of so much interest to the townsfolk, however.

  It was a clean room, with pews for the observers, two tables, a jury box, and the judge's bench. A chair sat nearby for Deputy Jones in his duty as bailiff.

  The judge came in and Mr. Willard presented the facts. There was a proxy prosecutor who made only the barest of efforts to make a case for the state. His entire argument was that Verity had broken Joshua out of jail in order to run away with him to Mexico. In fact, that had been the case, but he was so lackadaisical about his presentation, not even Verity was convinced that he meant what he said.

  When the judge spoke, it was with a condescending tone, but his words made Verity want to sing anyway.

  "Do you fancy yourself in love with this Joshua Smith?" he asked her.

  "Yes, Your Honor. With all my heart."

  "Women," he said. "Romantic as the day is long. I know your father, young lady. He's not the kind of man who'd approve of your behavior."

  "No, sir."

  "Well, as this is your first offense, and I don't think you were in on the crimes of murder and robbery and did no one physical harm, and it's a pure fact that women are prone to foolish emotional behavior, I'm going to rule that you be remanded to the custody of your father, on the condition that you remain in your home, with no venturing out, for the period of six months. If you're found outside of your father's home during that time, you will go to jail for the period of one year. Is that clear?"

  Verity was so shocked she stood stock still her mouth open. The insult to womanhood was perturbing, but if it meant she would be free to fight for Joshua behind the scenes, she'd take it. Mr. Willard nudged her. "Yes! Yes, Your Honor. I understand."

  "Hmph. Don't let me catch you in my courtroom again, Miss Bucknell. Further offenses will meet with the most draconian of punishments."

  "Thank you, Your Honor," she said, meaning it sincerely. Turning to her family, she rushed into their embrace, crying, happy that she didn't have to go to jail, but still worried about Joshua. Would the judge be as kind to him as he'd been to her?

  * * *

  Deputy Jones led Joshua to the courthouse adjacent to the jail. They were followed closely by Gritch, who had his weapon trained on the "dangerous criminal."

  Sheriff Gritch was acting as prosecutor due to the speed of the trial. No proper prosecutor could be arranged in so short a time, and Mr. Willard hadn't insisted because he thought the hearing would be a quick formality before acquittal. Joshua had been skeptical of the plan, knowing exactly how Gritch could manipulate things, but he had little choice but to take his attorney's advice.

  He could feel eyes upon him as he approached the table where Theodore Willard stood waiting. Among the observers were the Bucknells, except for Verity. All but Mercy gave him anxious smiles as he passed. A few townsfolk jeered at him, but one or two shouted out encouragement to him as well.

  As he took his place next to his attorney, Willard greeted Joshua somberly. They took their seats.

  "This should be perfunctory, Joshua," Willard told him. "Dr. Bucknell brought a telegram from the Marshalls' office in Phoenix. While it doesn't exonerate you precisely, it ought to count in your favor."

  Joshua nodded, but said nothing. The judge entered and everyone stood up.

  "The Honorable Judge Thomas Kincaid presiding," Deputy Jones said.

  The judge took his seat at the bench. "You may be seated."

  A few formalities were exchanged, a
nd then the hearing began.

  "The matter before the court," Judge Kincaid said, "is the disposition of the accused, Joshua Smith. Mr. Willard, what has your client got to say."

  "No formal trial is necessary, Your Honor. This man is Joshua Palmer, a US Marshal who works throughout the northern Arizona Territory. I have a telegram which states as much."

  "Let me see the telegram."

  Willard brought it up to the bench. The judge looked at it for a few moments, then handed it to Deputy Jones to put aside as evidence. "Interesting," Judge Kincaid said. "But not convincing. What else have you got?"

  Willard took the judge's dismissal of the only critical evidence he had without argument. "We also have the wagon and guns stolen. They were being brought back to Virtue by Marshal Palmer. He was detained while in transit."

  "Have you seen this evidence, Sheriff Gritch?" the judge asked.

  "Yes, Tom—I mean, Your Honor. But I think he was getting it back from his gang. I don't think he was on his way to Virtue or Prescott or anywhere but maybe out to the canyon where he could dump it and the men he had tied up. I think him and the woman were going to head for Mexico."

  "I see. Where are these other men?"

  "In jail," Gritch said. "I believe they were in on the crime."

  "Will they testify to that?"

  "Urm… no, sir. They say they're innocent. One says he's the marshal, not Smith."

  "Hm." He turned back to Willard. "Anything else?"

  "We have the testimony of Dr. Denby Bucknell, who will tell the court about Mr. Palmer's injuries, we believe sustained during a fight as the marshal tried to apprehend the fleeing criminals."

  The judge looked out into the gallery. "Dr. Bucknell, are you prepared to testify if there's a trial?"

  Dr. Bucknell stood up. "I am, Your Honor."