In the Sheriff's Protection

by Lauri Robinson

  Chester grasped Hugh’s arm. “Keep moving. Your new home is right through this door and behind a solid set of iron bars.”

  Tom was amazed Hugh kept his mouth shut, but wasn’t opposed to it. He’d never known a single person who talked as much as Hugh Wilson.

  “He do that to you?”

  Tom wasn’t sure what Josiah was referring to until noticing the mayor was pointing at his badge. The one pinned to his chest with the bullet still stuck in the center of the star.

  “Yes, but it was in my pocket at the time.”

  “Your pocket?”

  “It’s a long story,” Tom said. “I’ll fill you in later. Right now, Doc Graham needs to check over the prisoner while I—”

  “Get a bath, a hot meal and a good night’s rest,” Otis Taylor said, having walked over from his barbershop next door. “Should get yourself a haircut, too.”

  “That all sounds good,” Tom replied. Six weeks of traveling was sure to have left him looking worse for wear. “And I’ll get to each one of those, Otis, as soon as I see to the prisoner.”

  Getting Hugh settled in a cell didn’t take as long as clearing the crowd away from the building. Inside and out. Nearly every man, married or not, volunteered to take their turn sitting guard over Hugh.

  Chester took charge of setting up a schedule and assigning shifts, and as soon as he walked outside to write down every name, Hugh started up again.

  Tom ignored his demands and settled down in the chair behind the desk that had neat stacks of various correspondences. Chester had categorized things into piles of newspapers, letters, wanted posters, complaints and telegrams.

  Certain the deputy would have taken care of anything urgent, Tom merely shuffled through things. It had been almost a week since he’d left Clara, but it felt longer, and all those hours of sitting atop Bullet and then a hard train seat had given him plenty of time to think about her. Worry about her. Another storm could have blown through, causing more damage or...

  The telegram he’d picked off the pile demanded his full attention. It was from the livery in Hendersonville. The one he’d paid to deliver a horse and wagon out to Clara’s so she’d have a way to get places besides walking.

  The Wilson place has been abandoned. Horse and rig returned to town.

  Tom was already on his feet. Opening the door, he spied Teddy White still in the crowd. “Teddy, I need to send a telegram.”

  Urgency filled Tom, clouding his ability to think straight, including what he should do.

  Chapter Nine

  With each revolution of the train wheels that took them closer and closer to Oak Grove, Clara’s nerves had her sitting on the edge of her seat. The adventure of traveling, of being off the homestead, had shifted Billy’s attitude. Every new sight thrilled him and that made the entire venture easier, except for her doubts and fears.

  A part of her feared Billy’s excitement came from the idea of seeing his father again. She made no mention of that or of a trial, and wouldn’t, but would have to soon.

  As soon as she’d made up her mind, they’d packed a few belongings and walked to the Ryans’. There, she’d negotiated a deal for them to take care of her cows and chickens, check on her place and loan her a horse. The Ryans had said they didn’t need any payment, but she’d insisted. With little else that was truly hers, it was land she offered in exchange. There were details to be worked out, and she would upon returning. At the time, all she’d been able to focus on was getting to Hendersonville in order to catch an eastbound train.

  They’d caught a train, finally. Because they’d arrived in town shortly after one had left, they’d had to wait four days for the next one to arrive. The time delay and cost was not something she’d been prepared for. The small amount of cash the Ryans had loaned her, for she would pay them back, was being stretched so thin she could see through it.

  She’d hidden the coins from Hugh’s stash inside her valise, which made the bag twice as heavy as it otherwise would have been. Using just one of those coins would have made the trip easier, but she refused to do that. It was stolen money, and spending it would make her an accomplice. No one had to tell her that. Not even Sheriff Puddicombe. When the man had approached her at the livery stable, she was certain she’d be arrested, and hadn’t even been able to speak.

  He hadn’t arrested her, not even upon learning her name, but had asked plenty of questions. She’d answered them honestly, to the best of her ability, without revealing what was in her bag. However, she’d sensed he knew, and when the train had arrived, she’d forced Billy to run in her hurry to get to the station.

  He’d tripped and landed in a puddle, which had left him with a skinned knee and torn britches, and both of them traveling with mud-stained clothes. She would have had time to stitch up his trousers during any one of the long train rides or layovers in between, if she’d thought to bring along a needle and thread. Which she hadn’t. Nor did she have the funds to buy a needle or thread. Still wouldn’t upon arrival.

  Her stomach sank as the train whistle bellowed. Billy would look like a ragamuffin stepping off the train in Oak Grove, and truth be told, she would, too. They’d washed their hands and faces whenever possible, despite the signs saying the water in the buckets was for drinking only, but they both needed a good, deep scrubbing. The soot from the boilers covered everything, including their hair. She hadn’t looked in a mirror, but imagined her hair was the same sooty gray as Billy’s.

  With enough screeching, clanking and hissing that she wanted to cover her ears, the train pulled into the Oak Grove depot. She was afraid to look out the window, fearful of what could be awaiting her. If Hugh’s trial was already over, which it could very well be—it had been almost two weeks since Tom had hauled him away—Hugh could still be in town. Though she highly doubted Tom would allow that—he’d have him sent off to prison straightaway to protect the town—there was a chance.

  There was also a chance that someone would know who she was, a slight one, but Hugh could have gotten word to someone, anyone, and they could be watching, waiting for her.

  She’d been aware of that the entire way and, no matter how long the layover, hadn’t ventured away from the depot in every town they’d stopped in, even those they’d had to switch trains in, including the middle of Nebraska, where they’d had to wait a full day.

  Billy, with his nose pressed to the dirty window, asked, “Are we getting off here, Ma?”

  Drawing a deep breath and praying for courage, she replied, “Yes.”

  “We catching another train?”

  “No.”

  He turned to look at her. “This is it? This is where we’re going?”

  Despite everything churning inside her, she had to grin at the round spot of soot on the tip of his nose. Wiping at it with the tip of one finger, she said, “Yes. Collect your bag.”

  The train car had been stifling hot, and though it was hot outside, too, the wind that blew over her as she stepped onto the platform had a cooling effect.

  “Howdy, ma’am.” A man wearing the same type of uniform all the other depot agents had—dark blue with shiny brass buttons—touched the narrow brim of his flat hat. “Step on over there in the shade. Don’t worry none about the dog. He won’t hurt you.”

  “A dog?” Billy exclaimed. “Can I pet him?”

  “Sure can. His name is Bear.” Looking back at her, the man said, “Austin’s Hotel and Eatery is just up the road. You have time to catch a meal before the train heads out again.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I thought you said we weren’t catching another train,” Billy said.

  Without looking to see if the man heard him, she encouraged Billy to move into the shade. Because she hadn’t responded, Billy repeated himself.

  “We aren’t,” she whispered. Although she’d had plenty of time to consider her first order of bu
siness upon arrival, she had no idea what to do. Where to go. All her thoughts had centered around Tom.

  “Look at that dog!” Billy said. “He’s as big as a bear.”

  The dog was, and as hairy, but the brown eyes that looked up at her and the tail that thumped soundly against the boards said it was far more friendly than a bear. As Billy crouched down beside the dog, she scanned the town, her heart stopping when her eyes settled on the sheriff’s office across the street.

  “I say there, young lad, you’ve just made a friend for life. There’s nothing that old dog likes more than having his ears scratched.”

  Clara turned, and the moment her eyes settled on the speaker, she knew it was Angus O’Leary. Tom couldn’t have described him more perfectly than if he’d drawn her a picture, complete with a fancy suit and top hat. The only thing he hadn’t mentioned was the old man’s cane that he was now using to scratch the dog’s back, or the twinkle in his eye as he winked at her.

  “You must be a dog owner yourself,” Angus said to Billy.

  “No,” Billy replied. “But my uncle Walt used to have a dog. But it got dead. So’d Uncle Walt.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of life left in Old Bear here. You’ll see that as soon as he sees a rabbit.” Angus then looked at her. “You staying a spell in our little town, or just passing through, lass?”

  “Staying,” she said. “For a short time.”

  “Well, I hope it’s not too short of a time.” With an extremely elegant bow for a man of his age, he said, “Name’s Angus O’Leary, lass, and I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”

  As he straightened, he held a hand out to her. Although she was a bit unsure, her response was to extend a hand to shake his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Leary.” That was true. She already considered him an extraordinary man.

  Rather than shaking her hand, he kissed the back of it, which had her closing her eyes at how Tom had done that.

  Still holding her hand, Angus stepped closer and tucked her hand around his elbow. “Allow me to escort you into our fine town.”

  Her stomach hiccuped, letting her know it was time to begin the next steps in her journey. The final steps. “As pleasurable as that might be, Mr. O’Leary, I merely need to cross the street. To the sheriff’s office.”

  “Afraid that won’t do you much good, lass. No one’s there.”

  Her heart skipped several beats. “To—The...the sheriff’s not in town?”

  “He’s in town all right, just up the road at the new town hall that Jackson Miller finished building a short time ago. It’s a mighty fine sight, that new building. Inside and out. That Jackson is an artist with a hammer and nails. Even when it comes to making coffins.” Shaking his head, Angus added, “He just can’t seem to get the size right.”

  Before she could consider a response, Angus was waving his cane toward the buildings surrounding them. “No one’s at the barbershop, either, not that you’d need Otis’s services, or the feed mill, gun shop or livery. Most every place in town is closed today.”

  She hadn’t considered how quiet the town was. There were no people mingling about, no riders or rigs traveling up and down the road.

  “Most everyone’s at the town hall, on account of the trial going on there.”

  She bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. It was a relief to know the trial hadn’t ended, yet it made her tremble.

  “It’s been going on for a couple of days now, and won’t end today,” Angus said. “That’s where I was until I heard the train whistle and figured I best follow Wayne, the depot agent, over here just in case he needed assistance.”

  She followed his gaze, toward where the depot agent was helping the porter unload several crates.

  Turning about first, Angus gave her a little tug forward. “Only other person who left the trial was Rollie Austin. He owns the hotel and eatery. His wife, Sadie, a quiet young lass, is going to have a baby soon, and Rollie doesn’t want her overdoing things. He’ll have a bite to eat ready for any passengers needing one.”

  “Well, um—” She didn’t want to go into the trial looking like she did, but the small amount of funds left in her pocket didn’t leave her with many options.

  “Come along, lad,” Angus said to Billy. “You can visit Bear again later. He doesn’t go far, unless he sees a rabbit of course.”

  “Perhaps we could just wait at the sheriff’s office,” Clara said.

  “Can’t have that, lass,” Angus said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m hungry, and I don’t like eating alone.”

  Having no idea how much further she’d have to stretch her remaining funds, she said, “My apologies, Mr. O’Leary, but—”

  “Oh, lass, do be a dear and allow a dying old man the pleasure of buying you and your fine lad a meal. It very well could be my last, and no one wants to eat their last meal alone.”

  Not only were his words laced with exaggeration, so was his tone. But, in the end, it was the twinkle in his aging blue eyes that made her laugh. “Oh, Mr. O’Leary, you are a darling.”

  He laughed and pulled her forward. “No, lass, you are the darling.”

  * * *

  “This trial is lasting longer than a road to nowhere,” Tom muttered while watching people file out of the town hall. Raymond Wolf stood in the doorway, handing guns back to those who’d given them to Wolf as they’d entered. Town ordinance refused anyone to wear a gun during the trial except for him and Chester.

  “I know, and I’m almost at a loss,” Josiah said, shaking his head.

  That worried Tom, and so did many other things.

  “I can’t believe the judge allowed Hank Baldwin to be Wilson’s lawyer,” Josiah said. “Everyone knows Baldwin is the reason those Dalton boys got off scot-free for the train they’d robbed.”

  “The law says he has a right to a lawyer,” Tom said, even though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Seeing that every aspect of the law was followed had never troubled him this much. Not ever.

  “I know, but I’d recommended Ray Cabot.” Josiah wasn’t just the mayor of Oak Grove; he was the only lawyer. The judge had sent a request to Dodge in order for one to be assigned to Hugh.

  “And as Baldwin pointed out, Cabot doesn’t have any trial experience,” Tom replied as his eyes settled on Hugh and his lawyer, who were whispering back and forth while waiting for the courtroom to clear out.

  “Baldwin’s tearing my case apart,” Josiah said. “I’d like to know where he came up with all those drawings of black-and-white paint horses.”

  “Doesn’t matter where,” Tom said, just as disappointed that the unusual arrow marking on Hugh’s horse wasn’t so unusual. Baldwin had claimed a person needed to know they were looking for an arrow shape in order to see it, and proved it with drawings of other horses and asking what people saw in the markings, when prompted.

  “I wish he’d had more in those saddlebags of his,” Josiah said. “Just one item that had been stolen from one of the passengers would seal this case. Are you sure you didn’t see anything at his place in Wyoming?”

  Tom had kept what he’d seen at Clara’s place to pertinent facts only. Although he wished he had seen something, he hadn’t. Not that it would help this case anyway. “No,” he said. “We know that receipt he had from the Double Bar-S Ranch isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

  “No, it’s not, but as Judge Alfords pointed out, proving that won’t prove the money in the saddlebags is the same money that slaughterhouse agent had.” Josiah shoved the stack of paper off the table they stood next to into his carrying bag. “It’s not even close to the same amount.”

  The eyewitnesses, whose descriptions of Hugh were dead-on, were also put to question. Since Hugh’s face had been partially covered, Baldwin tossed out numbers of how many men had brown hair and green eyes
. He also pointed out that Hugh’s eyes were a gray-brown, not green, which did throw a few off. His build wasn’t out of the ordinary, either, nor was his walk, which he’d disguised by claiming the wound in his leg was giving him a permanent limp.

  As if knowing they were talking about him, which was a simple feat because they were, Hugh looked up. The sarcastic smile on his face fell slightly when Brett Blackwell stepped behind Hugh and hoisted him off his seat. Brett had appointed himself as Hugh’s escort to and from the jail, and Tom was glad. The blacksmith was not only huge, he was swift. One wrong move and Brett would have Hugh on the ground, squished like anyone else would squash an annoying pest.

  Waiting for everyone else to leave had Tom’s feet itching to move. He wanted to walk out that door, too. The train whistle had sounded a couple of hours ago. Ever since he’d wired Sheriff Puddicombe in response to the message about Clara’s place being abandoned, he’d been at the train station when an eastbound train had arrived. She’d boarded one with Billy, back in Hendersonville, and Puddicombe had been certain this was where she was headed.

  Tom hoped so, but he also questioned why. She didn’t know anything about the robbery. Hadn’t wanted to know. Considering she was coming here to aid Hugh churned his stomach to the point he was barely able to eat. He’d never been overly wide at the waist, but others had noticed how his belt was a couple of notches tighter. The small house he rented a block behind his office, which usually only hosted the necessities, now had cupboards full of canned goods and ready-to-eat foods the women of the town dropped off daily.

  They claimed it was the least they could do for all his hard work. He disagreed. His hard work was proving useless.

  So was his worry. Clara might not be coming to help Hugh. He just couldn’t think of another reason. She’d been adamant about not leaving. That was also what worried him. That she had left. Which meant someone must have forced her and that same someone could be forcing her to aid Hugh.

  “I’m going to head over to the hotel, get something to eat,” Josiah said. “Care to join me?”