Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

  “Watch it! Stay out of the light!”

  James went rigid, and waves of pain assaulted his brain. The man’s whisper had come from just outside the window.

  “Quiet!” hissed the second man. “Harvey’ll hear us.”

  “He snuck out to get a drink.”

  “Then hurry up about it. You want the whole town to see us?”

  A gun barrel appeared between the bars of the window. James rolled onto his side and hugged the wall. Ma, these yahoos aren’t giving up—

  An explosion echoed and re echoed around the cell. Chips of stone from the ceiling above James’s head rained down over him.

  More explosions—one, two—he lost count.

  Silence.

  “Did you get him?”

  “How should I know—”

  “Somebody’s coming.”

  “Run, you jackass! Run!”

  Footsteps crunched in the gravel and faded away with the echoes of the voices. The office door was flung back. James turned and looked up as Marshal Tate peered into the cellblock, holding a lantern high.

  “You hit, boy?”

  James tried to sit up, but the pain stabbed through his stomach and he fell back. His head was spinning. “Who was that taking target practice?”

  The man came toward the cell bars. “You’re a cool youngster. You remind me of a man I once knew.” He unlocked the cell and stepped inside, crossed to the window, and peered into the alley. “Some of Danny’s misguided friends, I imagine. I’ll check their stories in the morning.” Tate glanced at James again, then backed out of the cell, locked the door, and left the room.

  They want to murder me, Ma. Why? ‘Cause I fought under the Stars and Bars? Ain’t it enough we lost everything, including Ben and Peter? Bile burned into his mouth at the thought of his brothers lying lifeless on a bloody battleground. He twisted swiftly on his side to vomit on the floor. Then he lay back on the bunk, body racked with agony from all the twisting motions. Only much later did sleep lay a quilt of blackness over his exhausted body.

  ~~~

  When James next opened his eyes, two things caught his notice. Coming day was gradually brightening the jail, and a small, bearded man dressed in buckskin shook the bars of the door in the cell next to his, making them rattle and clank.

  The man shouted at the top of his voice, “Harvey, you made a mistake. Get me out of here. Har vee! Tate! Open this door.”

  Irritation flooded James’s chest at the stranger’s noisy demonstration. “Shut up, man,” he growled. “Can’t a body sleep in this jail?”

  The stranger turned on James, jabbing his finger toward a spot alongside the cot. “How can you rest with all that puke stinking up the floor? Har vee! Let me out!”

  The door to the outer office was swept back on its hinges to bang against the wall, and a pot bellied deputy stormed into the cell corridor.

  “What’s the matter with you, Brenner? Can’t you sleep off a drunk quiet like no more?” the man sputtered. “Tate said to lock you up all night this time. You gave him a fine case of the wearies.”

  “It’s morning now, Harvey,” the man complained. “I can’t draw breath in here. This fellow spent the night puking on the floor, and I got me a sensitive nose.”

  Harvey sniffed the air, then turned and spat on the stones.

  “Augh,” he said, and unlocked Brenner’s cell door. The man stumbled through the opening, and Harvey gave him a shove in the direction of the outer office. “Get out of here. Tate’s fed up with you, and so am I.”

  “I won’t set foot in here again if you can’t keep the place clean,” the man muttered as he disappeared.

  Harvey approached James’s cell, face twisted in disgust.

  “You’d better get that stinking vomit cleaned up, boy. Tate’ll hit the roof.” Then the man stopped and stared at James’s bandages. He swore slowly. “You don’t need a cell to keep you captive, do you? Danny did a fine job on you, Rebel Boy. You look like one of them mummies they got in a museum back home.” Harvey wiped his nose with the back of his hand and swore mildly. “I ain’t cleaning up that mess,” he continued. “I’ll get one of them fine suth-ren belles from over to the hotel to scrub it up, seeing as how one of their own kind made it.”

  “Much obliged, I’m sure,” James growled.

  “Yep, them Hilbrands gals think they’re so fine. Wait till they come over and smell the stink one of their heroes threw up. That’ll be a fine sight to see.”

  While Harvey cackled at his joke, James lay stiffly on the bunk, his mind thrashing through a bog of fury.

  Hilbrands? Ida Hilbrands! He silently swore at the girl. If she’d kept her heart set upon Carl instead of running after that fancy Dan Englishman, my brother wouldn’t have ended up with my girl.

  James gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes. Ellen! I was learning to love you by following duty, and all the time, Carl was turning your heart away from me. He swore bitterly at his brother, at Ida, then at himself for being a fool.

  Darkness came upon his soul, accompanied by a fiery rage. James turned his face to the wall and refused to eat the breakfast Harvey brought.

  ~~~

  “Faugh!”

  James’s body jumped on the rustling mattress as a sudden booming voice sent echoes around the marshal’s office.

  “Can’t you keep your jail clean, Tate?” the voice continued. “The odor in here would founder a hog.”

  “It’s one of your Southern boys did the deed,” the marshal answered in a softer voice. “His stomach turned inside out during the night.”

  James grimaced, squeezing his hands into fists, although the action caused him such pain that he saw dots of yellow dancing behind his eyelids. “Ma,” he groaned aloud. “It’s Randolph Hilbrands. Hearing him is worse’n being shot.”

  “What is he, drunk?” the man asked. “I can’t bail out every Southern tippler you lock up.”

  “I want you to take a look at him. I’ve an idea you might know the boy.”

  “Show him to me, then. I haven’t got all day.”

  “Tarnation, tarnation! Double and double again!” James whispered.

  “By the way, I need someone to clean up the mess.”

  “What? Haven’t you got Harvey?”

  “He’s being a sluggard about it. Will you send over one of your girls?” As he spoke, Tate opened the door between the office and the cells and Hilbrands moved into the corridor.

  “They’re my daughters, man!” he snapped. “I don’t throw them in a cell with a stranger to wipe up his puke.” He went to the bars and peered in. “How can I tell anything from a man in shadow?”

  Tate unlocked the cell, and the two men crossed to the cot. The marshal chuckled. He grabbed James’s head with two hands and twisted it to the light. “Take a good look. Do you know him?”

  James struggled free of the marshal’s grasp, and lay panting on the cot as Hilbrands swore fervently and stroked his thin black moustache.

  “This is Rod Owen’s boy, James! What’s happened to him?”

  The marshal chuckled again and nodded. “I thought as much. He acted mighty strange when I mentioned his pa.”

  “How’d he get hurt?” Hilbrands asked.

  “He got mixed up in a little gunfight. Danny O’Brien shot first, three times. Then this boy stopped him with one bullet.”

  “He always had a keen eye. James, my boy, you lie still. I’ll have you out of here in a trice.”

  “He’s done nothing but lie still since this morning. Harvey says he won’t take nourishment.”

  “No matter. Mandy’ll have him eating in no time at all. What’s his fine?”

  “Well now. If you pay for him, he won’t have to stand trial. Let’s see.” Tate ticked off the amounts on his fingers. “Gun brawling, first of all, that’s five dollars. Discharging his weapon is another five. Then there’s the doctor’s bill. That’s one dollar. And four to pay Harvey to clean up. That makes fifteen to get the boy out.”


  Hilbrands took out his wallet and laid the money in the lawman’s palm. “You say Danny O’Brien fired three times. I hope you collect your twenty from him before he blows it all on whiskey.”

  “Now that’s what I like, Hilbrands, a man who pays up with a touch of wit. You Southern folk have made a study of humor, I think.”

  Hilbrands scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now let this boy out of the cell.”

  James struggled onto his elbow. “Give the man back his money, Mr. Tate. I won’t go with him.”

  “Nonsense, boy. He’s your own kind,” said the marshal.

  “He and his kind are a jinx to me,” James replied.

  Hilbrands leaned one hand against the wall and stared down at James. “You wound me to the core, my boy. How many years have you known me? I used to give you candy at my store in Mount Jackson.”

  “You raised a viperous woman on your hearth!”

  Hilbrands stepped back and said nothing. He ran one hand slowly down the front of his black broadcloth coat. The fingers came to rest where a slight paunch stretched the fabric.

  “What does the boy mean, Hilbrands?” asked Tate.

  Hilbrands sighed. “My daughter caused a problem in his house. I reckon his family is slow to forgive.”

  The marshal pushed open the cell door. “That’s a pity, but you’ve paid your money down. Take him out of here.”

  “How? Over my shoulder?”

  “If you have to. Maybe he’ll pass out from pain until you get him to your place.”

  Hilbrands strode through the doorway and pushed the barred door closed. “I’ll be back with a litter, Tate.”

  ~~~

  Three men followed Randolph Hilbrands into the cell, two of them carrying a stretcher made of canvas with wooden support poles. “Load him up, men,” said Hilbrands. “I haven’t got all day.”

  A tall man with yellow hair put his hands under James’s shoulders. James shrugged the man’s hands off his body. “I’m not going with you, Randolph Hilbrands.”

  “Pay no mind, Freddie,” Hilbrands said to the man with the yellow hair. “He’s hurt and weak—he can’t do anything about this.” Hilbrands laughed. “First time I ever got me an Owen by paying for him.”

  “You haven’t got this Owen,” James declared, struggling to grab hold of the cot as Freddie tried again to lift him.

  Hilbrands chuckled. “See? He can’t hardly move. Give Freddie a hand, Joshua. I’ll hold the litter.” Hilbrands took the handles at the foot of the litter from a beefy man dressed in a frock coat. “Hurry. I got a lot to do today.”

  Joshua bent over to pick up James’s feet, and James kicked him a glancing blow to the belly.

  The man backed up. “He’s pretty strong for a sick man, Hilbrands,” he puffed, holding his stomach.

  “Grab his legs. Swing him over here. He ain’t got any reserves, bunged up as he is.”

  Freddie and Joshua grabbed what they could hold on to and tried again to move James to the stretcher. He kicked and bucked and doubled up, and they dropped him onto the floor.

  James grunted as he hit the granite, and lay still, momentarily stunned.

  “Quick, men. Roll him over while the pain’s upon him.” Hilbrands lowered the litter to the uneven floor, and the man at the other end followed suit. Joshua dragged James’s legs out of the muck beside the bed.

  “He stinks, Hilbrands,” he protested.

  “Let me worry about that. He’s going to my house, not yours. Get his shoulders, Freddie.”

  “I’m getting, I’m getting,” the man replied, pulling James onto the canvas.

  “He’s catching his breath, Randolph,” warned the third man, who knelt at the head of the stretcher.

  “Lift him up, Elias! Freddie, Joshua, get your cord and tie him on.” Hilbrands raised his end of the stretcher a few inches off the floor, and Elias followed suit.

  Freddie and Joshua pulled short lengths of rope out of their pockets and bound James to the litter. As they tested the knots, James started struggling again, but the restraints were secure, and he finally lay quiet, his chest heaving, watching Hilbrands with narrowed eyes.

  “Here, Freddie. Take this end. Let’s be on our way.” Hilbrands set the handles on the stone floor, and the man took his place at James’s feet.

  “Together, Elias,” Freddie said. “One, two, lift.”

  As they hoisted James into the air, Hilbrands fingered the bandage on the young man’s side, which was seeping blood. “It don’t seem worthwhile to open your wounds again, my boy. Oh, stop your glaring. I’m taking you out of this stinking cell. You could at least be grateful for that.”

  “It’s more welcome than living in the same house with your fickle daughter and her Johnny English husband,” James growled.

  Hilbrands hooted with laughter. “If that’s what troubles you, rest easy, my boy. She’s long gone to San Francisco with that jackanapes she married. I will say this: you Owen boys stick together. You’re mad enough for you and Carl both.”

  James closed his eyes and swallowed. His body started to shake. Hilbrands put out a hand and gripped his good shoulder.

  “We’ll have you cleaned up and in a real bed soon. Come on, let’s move him.”

  Joshua went in front and opened doors. Elias and Freddie carried James out of the cell, through the inner doorway, then across the jail office and out to the sunshine of the street. Several men lounged on a bench in front of the general store next door to the jail. As the procession passed, they sat up and commented on the sight.

  James gritted his teeth and glared at Hilbrands. “You could have moved me at night,” he hissed.

  “No. It couldn’t wait. Besides, you would have had a bigger audience after dark. That’s when the whole town comes alive.”

  “Randolph, I swear—”

  “Repay me once you’re up and about, my boy.” The man chuckled, walking along beside the swaying stretcher.

  James narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t on my mind. Besides, one quarter won’t stretch to cover fifteen dollars.”

  “You can work off your debt. I’ve plenty a boy of your talents can do.”

  “Then you may as well tell your men to trot. The sooner I get shed of these bindings, the sooner you’ll have your money’s worth.”

  “Oh no, my boy. You’re going to lie flat for some days yet. You’ve got a powerful lot of mending to do. Doc says Danny shot you up pretty bad. And you struggling back there didn’t help any.”

  James growled something deep in his throat.

  Hilbrands laughed again. “Fretting won’t help, James, my boy. Maybe you think you’ve got better things to do than stay abed with a houseful of pretty girls to wait on you, hand and foot. But I tell you, that’s a sight more comfy than laying on a hard cot in a stinking jail cell waiting for the judge to sentence you to more time doing the same.”

  “I prefer it to being in your debt.”

  “Watch the steps, Freddie. Sorry if you feel a mite inconvenienced, James. We’re here.”

  Joshua held open the hotel door and Elias and Freddie carried the litter into the lobby. James looked around at what Hilbrands had wrought since buying the place a year ago. The lobby was furnished with hand sawn log chairs and settees covered with cowhide, and since the last time James had seen the hotel, one corner of the open area had been stripped of furniture to allow room for the mercantile goods that the man had brought across the continent in a freight wagon.

  “Mandy!” Hilbrands called out. “We’re back.” He turned to James. “My wife is fixing up a room for you on this floor. It’s not big, but it’ll be more handy for the girls when they tend you.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” James snarled.

  “Faugh,” Hilbrands barked. “That’s not what the doctor said. You’re going to bed, my boy!”

  Chapter 5

  At her husband’s call, Amanda Hilbrands swept into the hotel lobby from the back corridor, wiping her hands on the full white
apron that covered the front of her gray dress. She patted her tumbling blonde curls back into place at the top of her head, then came and looked down at James with a smile playing about her strong, wide mouth.

  “James Owen, your ma will have your hide for getting into a gun fight.”

  The young man stiffened, his shoulders pressing back onto the stretcher. “Good afternoon, Mrs. H. I’m hoping you won’t tell her.”

  She laughed. “You Owen boys always were fools for getting into scrapes. I am just glad Mr. Hilbrands is here to bail you out.” She straightened up and motioned toward the back of the hotel. “The room is ready now, if you men will carry him in. Put the litter on the bed and loose his bonds, and I will be there in a few minutes.” Freddie and Elias carried James into the corridor as Amanda stopped her husband from going into the office with a hand on his forearm. “Mr. Hilbrands, a word with you, please.”

  The man looked down at her, a faint frown creasing his cheeks. Amanda took a deep breath. “The water is hot in the tub, Randolph. You must hurry him into it before it cools. He dearly needs that bath, but be careful. The boy looks peaked as a new birthed colt.”

  Hilbrands stroked his moustache. “You’ll have to manage it, Mandy. I have the shipment to the mines to take care of. You know I put it off to get the boy out of that stink hole of a jail.”

  She stood silent, her shoulders stiff. “Dear Lord! You expect me to bathe the boy!”

  Hilbrands grunted, then said, “Don’t be foolish. Pretend he’s the son we buried in a hand basket.”

  Amanda’s eyes closed and she saw the tiny, two-months-from-perfect body wrapped in a blue woolen blanket against the elements. Three days were all the time she had had with the baby, three short days to hold him as he struggled to breath with seven month old lungs. I will mourn him forever. Julia Owen is blessed, with sons on every hand, growing tall and straight. She blinked open her eyes, remembering James.

  “He is a grown man, Randolph!”

  “Then pretend he’s our son, all grown up.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a step into the office. “You’d tend him without a second thought if he was our son.”