by Anna Schmidt
“You ain’t never gonna be my kin, mister. You got that? Now stop your jawin’ and let me think.”
“Never say never, Ira. More often than not, you end up having to eat those words.”
Ira’s cot scraped against the wall, most likely because the boy had kicked it there. “Just shut up,” he bellowed.
Trey decided to oblige.
* * *
Nell could see how curious Joshua was about Rico as the three of them sat on the wagon seat on their way back to the Porterfield ranch.
“Do you work for the Porterfield ranch?” he asked.
Rico kept his eyes on some point in the far distance. “Nope.”
“Rico owns the livery stable in town,” Nell explained when it became obvious Rico had no intention of adding to his one-word reply.
“You and Trey are friends then?” Joshua was clearly trying to make sense of everything he’d witnessed over the last weeks and months among the grown-ups in his life. They had agreed that Joshua would simply call Trey by his given name—at least for the time being.
Rico grunted.
“I’ve been sick a lot,” Joshua said. “But Doc Addie told me Trey was sick just like me when he was a kid. Did you know him then?”
“Rico’s parents live on the ranch,” Nell explained. “He grew up there. Now he and his wife and little boy live in town behind the livery.”
Joshua nodded. “Ma says Trey is gonna teach me to ride and play baseball and all sorts of stuff. Is he any good?”
For the first time since they’d set out from Lottie’s, Rico looked at Joshua. “You talk a lot for such a niño,” he observed. He glanced at Nell, then back at her son. “Trey’s about as good at those things as any man around.”
Joshua nodded. “That’s good to know. Doc Addie said he likes to draw pictures of people and read books, so I was thinkin’ maybe he was better at something like that.”
This time, Rico kept his gaze focused on Nell. “Trey Porterfield is one of the best men I know. Some say he’s too good. Some say he’ll need somebody who can rein him in a bit when he goes off thinking the world is better and kinder than it is—and thinking if it ain’t, he can change it.”
The way Joshua smiled and leaned his head against her, Nell had the feeling he had heard Rico’s words as reassurance that Trey would be everything Joshua hoped for. She heard the words for what they were—a challenge to her, now that she was Trey’s wife. And once again, she realized that this man, the one who could make her body hum with anticipation and desire, was a complete stranger in so many other ways.
“We’ll be fine,” she murmured and met Rico’s stare without wavering.
Once they reached the ranch house, Rico collected his family and headed back to town. The horse and buggy Seth had promised waited near the barn. Juanita and Amanda stood in the doorway, and as Nell approached, Juanita held out her arms to Joshua.
“Can this be the boy Addie’s been telling us about, Amanda?” She held Joshua by his shoulders as she took stock of him. “Why you’re nearly grown, young man. Now you come with me, and let’s get you settled in your room.”
Joshua grinned and ducked his head, and Nell silently blessed the older woman for making her son feel at home. She watched as Juanita and Joshua disappeared down the corridor that led to the bedrooms and prepared to follow them. “I should get cleaned up,” she said as she slipped past Amanda.
Trey’s youngest sister had yet to show anything more than a polite wariness toward Nell. She stepped aside to allow Nell to pass but followed her to the large bedroom. “Nita is heating water for your bath. You go ahead and get out of those wet clothes, and I’ll get the water,” she said.
By the time she returned, Nell had undressed and wrapped herself in a robe.
Amanda eased past her, balancing two large pails of steaming water that she dumped in the copper tub. “I used to do this for Mama when she…after Papa died,” she said. “Mama loved her bath.” She stood in the doorway between the bath and bedroom and surveyed the room.
Nell removed the pins from her hair. “It must be difficult for you—and Jess—to think of me in this room.”
Roused from her reverie, Amanda held out a towel to Nell. “It was always going to be the place Trey brought his bride,” she said. “With the rest of us settled elsewhere, this was always going to be Trey’s home.” She returned to the bathroom and picked up a bottle of bath salts. She poured some into the steaming water before once again stepping aside to allow Nell to pass. But when they were side by side, she placed her hand on Nell’s forearm. “Don’t hurt my brother, Nell,” she said. “He’s the best of all of us, and he’s had enough heartbreak in his life.”
“I would never—”
“No, I don’t believe you would—not intentionally. But it’s plain to see he has given you his heart. What’s unclear to us is if that was mutual. No one would blame you if you saw Trey’s offer as a safe haven for you and your son. Certainly, you’ve had your share of heartache as well. But if you don’t love him, then at least…”
Nell was not ready to discuss her feelings for Trey with anyone. They were too new to allow others the opportunity to comment or criticize.
“Trey and I are fully aware of the obstacles we may face. We will find our way. And now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to bathe and dress so I can go to the fort to see my husband.” She edged past Amanda and gently closed the door to the bathroom.
When she had washed away the grime of her morning trek and combed out and braided her hair, she opened the connecting door. Amanda was gone, but on the bed was an outfit Trey’s sister had selected for her from the wardrobe. Her boots sat on the floor next to the bed, cleaned of the mud that had coated them on her arrival.
She dressed and hurried down the hall to Trey’s old room. The door stood open, but Joshua was not inside. She heard his laughter from the library. She slid back the pocket doors to find Amanda and Joshua sitting around a large wooden table.
“Hey, Ma, Aunt Amanda is teaching me to read this map. She used to be a teacher in Tucson.”
Nell heard little of her son’s words past his use of the term Aunt Amanda. That was as clear a sign as any Amanda had decided to give them a chance.
But it was evident Trey’s brother, Jess, would not be so easily swayed.
“You ready?” Jess barely glanced at her as he led the way to the buggy. She saw he’d tied his horse to the back.
“Yes, thank you.” She prepared to climb on.
“I’ll be driving,” he said.
“Lottie told me about the raid. I can manage,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm.
“No doubt. But you are not traveling alone, not with everything going on out there.”
“Has something else happened?”
“You could say that,” he grumbled and said nothing more as he waited for her to climb onto the seat, then took the reins.
After several minutes, Nell became uneasy. “This isn’t the way to the fort,” she said.
“It’s the long way around. We’ll get there. Trey’s not going anywhere, and I want to show you something.”
He kept the horse moving at a brisk trot for several miles, but when they reached the top of a mesa, he pulled the reins and called for the horse to stop. Below them, the land was littered with the corpses of sheep, their white and gray wool covering the red-brown dirt like snow.
Nell covered her mouth, fearful that she might actually be sick at the sight. “No,” she whispered. “Why? What was the sense of this?”
Jess said nothing as he urged the horse forward once again. After a while, they came to a stretch of land where the barbed wire marking cattle land had been cut and hung in haphazard loops, the connecting posts akimbo. She knew whatever cattle had grazed inside those fences had now wandered off. But the cows could be rounded up. The sheep…
“There.” Jess pointed to a spot in the distance where a group of cowhands appeared to be loading bodies onto a wagon.
“The cattle as well?” She gave voice to her disbelief.
Jess nodded. “And that, Nell, is why I can’t allow you to go wandering off on your own. Whoever did this could have still been out here this morning when you decided to set out. They used the cover of the storm to do their work—both sides. These are desperate men, bent on winning at any cost. They won’t think twice about killing anybody who gets in their way.”
“How do we stop this?” she asked, a thought she didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud.
“You don’t. And I need you to talk Trey into standing aside as well. Let the militia handle this. It’s not our fight.”
Oh, but it was. These renegades had not only robbed Joshua of his inheritance, but her brother’s family of their livelihood as well.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Nell?”
She nodded. She understood all right—but she didn’t have to agree. Trey was right. This had to stop, and if the two of them could do anything to bring that about, she was more than willing to take whatever risk it entailed.
* * *
Shortly after finishing his lunch, Trey had started another drawing on the opposite wall of his cell when he heard voices outside the jail, among them, a woman’s voice he recognized.
Nellie.
He rushed to the window, straining to see around the corner of the jail. He could hear Jess talking to the colonel and just barely caught a glimpse of a green dress he remembered his mother wearing. What could Jess have been thinking of, bringing her here? He didn’t want her to see him like this—unbathed, unshaven, his clothes covered with the dust that blew through the bars of the window through the day and night.
“Ira, your Aunt Nell is here,” he said as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Remember, she is blameless in all of this.”
Ira snorted. “She married you, didn’t she?”
“Just give her a chance.”
Jess, Ashwood, and Nell stepped into the shadows of the narrow corridor that ran along the cells. He saw Nell look around, her eyes adjusting to the sudden shift in light. And then she saw him, and she hurried forward, her arms outstretched, reaching through the bars to touch him.
“Are you all right?”
He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her, the metallic odor of the bars a reminder of the barrier between them. “What are you doing here?”
“Jess will explain. Where’s Ira?” Again, she looked around, her eyes settling finally on the neighboring cell. “Ira?”
“Go away.”
“Oh, Ira, look at me, please. There are things you are far too young to—”
Trey heard the boy leave the cot and rush at the bars. “Don’t say that,” he bellowed. “I know my pa is dead. What’s to become of Ma and Spud and me now? If you’d just stayed out of this…but no! Ernest is always saying you think you’re better than us. You had no right to make decisions without talking to Pa first. He’d be alive right now if only—”
“Settle down, son,” Colonel Ashwood said as he moved between Nell and Ira. “You’re hardly in a position to go throwing blame at others. A man died at your hand. You need to concentrate on that and what it will mean for your future.”
“What future?” Ira scoffed. “There’ll be a trial, and I’ll probably hang, even though that Mexican came at me, and I was just defending myself as any man would. But no doubt these cattlemen have the judge on their side, so what chance do I have?” The pitch of his voice continued to rise until he sounded like the child he was. “I don’t want to die, Aunt Nell,” he said weakly.
Trey saw her step around the colonel and reach through the bars to console her nephew. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Calm yourself, Ira. We’ll find a way.”
“Guards!” the colonel shouted.
Two soldiers came running.
“Stand over there and listen carefully,” Ashwood ordered. “You may be called upon to repeat what you are about to hear in court.” He turned his attention back to Ira. “Now, young man, I am going to ask you some questions before these witnesses, and I need you to answer truthfully. And if I am satisfied with the information you provide, there is every possibility that you will be released to your mother’s care this very afternoon.”
Ira sniffed back his tears. “I never meant to kill him,” he blubbered.
Jess sighed. “Just shut up, boy, and answer the questions when asked. Not before, understood?”
The colonel cleared his throat. “That day at Deadman’s Point, did your father have a gun?”
“Yessir, but—”
“And did he aim that weapon at anyone?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Who?”
“That guy.”
Trey guessed Ira had pointed to his cell.
“Did Mr. Porterfield also have a weapon?”
Ira hesitated. “He wore a gun belt, so yeah, he carried a weapon.”
“Did he aim his weapon at your father or anyone else?”
“No, but—”
“And at the time your father aimed his weapon at Mr. Porterfield, had you and Javier Mendez fought?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And was Mr. Mendez wounded?”
“I didn’t mean to… I just wanted it to stop, and I thought—”
“Yes or no, Ira,” Jess coached.
“He was bleeding pretty bad.” Ira’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Mr. Porterfield has claimed that he saw his friend attempt to stand and that it was his intention to offer aid. Now that you have had time to consider the events of that day, is that possible?”
Ira was quiet for a long moment. “I guess maybe, but—”
“But your father, in the heat of the fracas, misread Mr. Porterfield’s intent and took his move forward as an attack. Is that possible?”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t change anything,” Ira added, his voice having regained some of its strength. “Pa is dead all the same.”
Ashwood ignored this. “And when your father moved forward, did Mr. Porterfield engage with him in any way? Did he touch him or push him or—”
Ira scoffed. “He did what any man would do if you was facing the barrel of a gun. He ducked, stepped back, and raised his hands.”
“Raised his hands or his fists?” the colonel pressed.
“Hands, fists, what’s the difference? And how is this supposed to help me? Sounds like the only man you’re interested in helping here is him.”
Jess leaned in close. “Wise up, kid. Helping Trey is helping you. Now tell the truth.”
“Did Mr. Porterfield push your father off that cliff, Mr. Galway?”
There was a long pause before Ira answered. “Not exactly, but Pa would never have slipped if—”
“And as he fell, was your father still in possession of his weapon?” Ashwood persisted.
Ira must have nodded, because Trey heard Jess say, “We need a verbal answer, Ira.”
“Yeah.”
“Just one more question, Ira,” the colonel said, his voice gentle. “At any time in the events we have just discussed, did Mr. Trey Porterfield take out his gun?”
“No, but—”
“Thank you, son.” Colonel Ashwood turned to the two guards. “You are dismissed. Go find Peter Collins and bring him to my office, and send someone here to release Mr. Porterfield—”
“You tricked me,” Ira shouted as he charged the bars. “This was not about helping me at all. This was just—”
“If you would let me finish,” the colonel said. “Mr. Porterfield is free to go. Mr. Galway is to be released to the custody of his family until such time as the circuit court can hear his case. Marshal Porterfield and a de
tail of soldiers will see that he gets home safely.”
The guards left, and Ashwood moved to Ira’s cell. “Now listen to me, young man. You have just received a gift. You step out of line even a little bit, and you will be back here to stay for however long it takes. Do we understand each other?”
“I won’t stand by while those cowboys destroy our herd and land and burn our house and—”
“You let me and my soldiers worry about that. Your mother has gone through a terrible loss. Do not add to her distress by acting on your anger. And tell your brother and Ernest Stokes that goes for them as well.” Without giving time for Ira to respond, the colonel turned on his heel and left the jail.
A few minutes later, a soldier came to open the cells—first Ira’s and then Trey’s. Jess and the guard escorted Ira to the yard. Nell followed them to the exit, wringing her hands and assuring Ira that he would be all right now.
Trey waited just outside his cell, respecting her need to tend to her nephew but longing for her to attend to him as well. He walked outside and stood next to her as she watched Ira climb onto a wagon driven by two soldiers.
“Mister?”
Trey was surprised to see Ira watching him, his mouth working as if he had something to say but couldn’t find the words. Trey moved closer to the wagon and offered the boy a handshake.
Ira stared at his outstretched hand for a moment and then clasped it tightly, his eyes brimming with tears. “I never meant—” he blubbered.
“You need to put that behind you and put your mind to helping your ma and brother,” Trey advised.
Ira nodded, and as he withdrew his hand, he murmured, “Thanks.”
Jess mounted his horse. “Let’s head out,” he instructed.
Nell followed the wagon a little way as it moved through the gates of the fort. She waved and watched.
“Nellie?” Trey said softly.
Her shoulders slumped, whether with relief of defeat, he could not tell. He covered the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.
She twisted to face him, cupped his face with her hands, and kissed him. “I was so very afraid for you—for us,” she whispered.