by Jodi Thomas
Mariah knew Cain could do nothing against a dozen men, but she could stand no more. She bolted down the steps and confronted the sheriff. “Stop!” she yelled. “He was with me. He couldn’t have killed Elliot Mayson. He was with me!” She knelt in the mud in front of Dusty. His face was down, but she could see blood mixing with rain, dripping onto his shirt.
The sheriff grabbed a handful of Dusty’s hair and pulled his head up. Mariah swallowed a scream as she looked into Dusty’s half-conscious eyes. “Were you with her?” Harris interrogated above Mariah’s cries. “There’d be a reason for a man to stay in bed all morning.”
Dusty’s mouth was bleeding, and his left eye was almost swollen shut. “No,” he answered between gritted teeth. “I didn’t kill Elliot, but I was alone this morning. I wasn’t with her.”
“Too bad, Barfield. You could’ve had an alibi at the cost of this lady’s reputation. You must dislike your partner pretty bad, not to let her lie to save that no good neck of yours.”
“I’m not lying!” Mariah cried above the rain, but no one listened. They tied Dusty atop a horse and headed out.
As the sheriff passed the porch, he tipped his hat to Bethanie. “I’m leaving Hank here to see your daughter doesn’t come to town tomorrow and mix up the trial.”
“That will not be necessary,” Bethanie answered.
“In fact, I better leave a couple of men to see that no one from this house is at the trial. I want to get this over fast and have the hanging by tomorrow night. Wouldn’t do to let it fester and have two of the biggest ranches in Texas fighting each other.”
Mariah ran beside Dusty’s horse. “Please tell them where you were,” she begged.
“No,” Dusty answered. “I was alone. Stay away from me.” His words were sharp, but his eyes seemed to be pleading.
Mariah walked back to her mother as the horses faded into the rain. “How could he hate me so much?” she cried.
“Or love you so much?” Bethanie whispered. “The sheriff is one of Mayson’s men. If he thought Dusty had an alibi, he might try to eliminate you. I know he’ll do whatever he thinks Mayson wants, and so does Dusty.”
“We must do something!” Mariah pleaded. She couldn’t just let these crazy men carry Dusty off without a fight. There had to be something she could do.
“We will, Mariah. Cain will follow them and keep an eye on Dusty. When the time is right, we’ll do something.”
To Mariah’s horror, Bethanie turned to the two men left to guard them, and said, “You men might as well come in out of the rain and have some hot tea.” As they walked inside, she turned to Ruth. “Make us up a pot of that herb tea from the leaves of the purple nightshade plant and add a little whiskey for sweetener. That should help the chill.”
Mariah pulled her mother back a few steps. “I’ve always had trouble remembering all your herbs, Mother.” Mariah’s voice carried only to Bethanie’s ears. “But the nightshade plant won’t help the chill.”
Bethanie touched a finger to her lips as Mariah whispered, “The nearest I remember it’s a sleeping agent.”
Bethanie nodded slowly with an angelic smile touching the corners of her mouth.
Mariah glanced toward Ruth. The old woman never batted an eye as she disappeared into the kitchen to follow Bethanie’s instructions. Mariah watched as her mother invited the men to rest by the warm fire.
Chapter Twenty-six
Mariah paced the polished brick floor of the ranch house, as her mother sat quietly facing their guards. Mariah’s mind was screaming to take action. The vision of Dusty’s bloody face kept flashing through her brain like a scene of horror blinking past a window of a swiftly moving train. She wanted to strike out and not wait for the slow-acting herb to do its work.
Mariah watched the sheriff’s two men. They seemed ill at ease. They were rough ranch hands, not accustomed to the gracious attention Bethanie was now paying them. They gladly accepted the offered tea, thankful for a diversion. Their huge, dirty hands seemed deformed as they gripped the china cups. Ruth brightened their spirits by lacing each cup with a generous portion of brandy.
As the moments ticked away, Bethanie refilled the men’s cups repeatedly while her own sat untouched. They didn’t seem to notice that she offered no cup to Mariah. Bethanie’s soft voice played like a melody as she acted out the role of the perfect hostess. “We like to add a little herb to our tea. It adds a sweet taste and takes the chill away.”
Mariah was amazed at how easily her mother lied to the men while pouring a tea so heavily blended with sleeping potion. Mariah yawned just from the smell.
The two men tried to fight their drowsiness but bobbed like two swollen corks in a barrel of whiskey. Their faces grew flushed from drink and Ruth’s constant stirring of the already warm fireplace. Mariah heard her mother begin to hum an old Shaker melody used years ago to rock her children to sleep. She watched as both men leaned their heads against the cushions and began to snore in unison.
Bethanie whispered as if she were saying words to the song she had been humming. “Get your riding clothes on, Mariah.”
Mariah moved to her mother’s side. “Should we tie them up?” she whispered.
“No,” Bethanie answered calmly. “We’ll probably be back before they awaken.”
Mariah nodded. Without another moment’s hesitation, she ran to her room and dressed in her best riding clothes. If she was going to proclaim to the town that she was a wanton woman by going to a man’s cabin alone, at least she’d be dressed like a lady for her own downfall.
Bethanie was standing at the huge oak desk when Mariah returned. Her mother had changed into a charcoal split skirt and a white high-collared blouse. Mariah watched as her mother reached behind a book and pulled out a key.
Bethanie unlocked the bottom desk drawer. She pulled out an old Walker-Colt handgun and laid it gently on the desk as though it were a treasured keepsake. Mariah didn’t have to ask. She knew the long Walker-Colt had belonged to Ben Weston. She’d heard her mother tell the boys the story of how Sam Walker had given the gun to Ben after he’d been hurt fighting bank robbers.
“After you were born, Ben always locked up his extra guns. With all of Allison’s kids around, I guess Dusty continued the practice.” She lifted two gunbelts already heavy with guns and a full belt of bullets from the large drawer. “This was Dusty’s when he was a boy. See if it fits you.”
Mariah had been around guns all her life and could shoot as well as any of her brothers, but she’d never worn a gunbelt. She started to laugh and suggest her mother might be overdoing it a little, but the image of Dusty’s bloody face erased the thought from her mind. She strapped the belt around her tiny waist and checked to see that every bullet loop and each chamber of the gun was full.
Ruth joined the women. She kept her eyes on the two sleeping men by the fire as she spoke. “The horses are ready, Bethanie. I think I should tell you that when Elliot Mayson came by this morning, he took one look at the sky and asked to borrow Dusty’s slicker that was hanging by the door.”
Bethanie raised a questioning eyebrow as she buckled her gunbelt as tightly as she could over her hips. “Did he put it on?”
Ruth began nodding her head as if following Bethanie’s train of thought. “I watched him put it on before he climbed into the saddle. That was the first time I ever saw him ride a horse, but I guess a wagon would have gotten bogged down in all this mud.”
Bethanie’s face saddened as she whispered her next question. “How big a man was Elliot Mayson?”
Ruth’s words were slow in coming. “About the same size as Dusty.”
Before Mariah could ask any questions, Bethanie turned and lifted an ancient leather saddlebag from the corner. She knew it contained her mother’s medicines. She’d seen her mother carry a bag just like it for hours as she moved from house to house during the Fever of ’80. There must’ve been a hundred times during her childhood that Mariah had awakened to see her mother leaving with the bag to
tend the sick or dying. Cain always traveled at her side on her nursing missions, but today Cain had disappeared into the fog.
“Cain,” Mariah whispered. “Where is Cain?”
Bethanie’s answer was quick and honest. “He’ll be in town by now, staying out of sight until we need him.” She moved toward the door. “Before we leave, Mariah, I must ask you one question. How far are you willing to go to save Dusty Barfield’s life?”
“As far as it takes,” Mariah answered.
“Even if it’s dangerous?” Bethanie worded her question carefully. “Even if we must step beyond the law?”
Mariah thought of Dusty’s speech in the cabin when he told her he never wanted to see her again. Her mind clearly recalled the hatred that had been in his face. In a breath’s length, Mariah envisioned his face as she’d last seen it, bloody and bruised. Her heart tore remembering the crimson stream dripping from his lips…the very lips that had kissed her with more passion than she’d ever known. She could almost hear him whispering his love for her.
Mariah jerked on her jacket with determination. “I’m going to help Dusty if there’s any way in heaven, Mother. Even if it steps beyond the law.”
Bethanie nodded toward Ruth as she pulled her coat on. “I left the old Colt for you if those two should wake up.”
Ruth followed them to the porch. “I wouldn’t want to shoot anyone, but I could sure club them with it if they so much as open an eye.”
Bethanie and Mariah smiled at Ruth’s ethics. They left the house just as the rain slowed to a pathetic spattering, but the air was soup-thick with moisture. They rode north toward town at a pace few men could have equaled.
As they neared the long string of buildings that marked the town, Bethanie pulled her horse in close beside Mariah. “I’ll be with you whatever you do.”
Mariah smiled. “Thanks.”
The townspeople turned to stare at them as they rode down the street. By the time they reined up in front of the sheriff’s office, there was a small parade behind them. A deputy, who came out to greet them, seemed hesitant to speak in front of the crowd.
“Sheriff’s gone to get the judge. He’ll be back in an hour.” The deputy stammered while trying to manage the tobacco wad in his mouth.
Mariah walked up the steps with her mother only a few feet behind her. “We are here to nurse the prisoner.”
The deputy hesitated.
Mariah lifted her stubborn chin. “Surely you’re not afraid of two women?”
“No, but I thought the sheriff said you two would be staying at your ranch. Don’t know if he’d like it none that you’re here to nurse the prisoner.” The deputy was having trouble making a decision. The more nervous he became, the more he chomped down on the huge brown mass of tobacco in his jaw. Finally he held his hand out and took Mariah’s gun. “I reckon it’s all right for one of you to go in. But jail ain’t no place for a lady.” He leaned sideways and spit a brown rainbow off the corner of the porch, sending several onlookers jumping backward in disgust.
Mariah took the medicine bag from her mother. She noticed Cain standing in the crowd. Her small army was all present. It was time for her to advance. Mariah turned to the deputy. “Now, may I pass before the prisoner’s cuts get infected?”
The deputy snickered. “All right, but he ain’t gonna be alive long enough to get no infection. He’ll be swinging from a tree before the moon rises.”
Mariah tried to ignore his comment as she marched inside. Her insides might be jumping like a jar full of red ants riding in the back of a buggy, but she would show no fear to this man.
The office was filled with cigar smoke and the smell of a few too many unwashed bodies. Coffee bubbled on a huge dilapidated Franklin stove in the center of the room. Cells lined the back wall with all the doors open except one. Mariah moved around the score of deputies to the one locked door. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her face against the tiny window at the otherwise solid door.
At first she could see nothing in the dark hole except the smoky strands of light forming a triangle against one wall. The floor was covered with dirt and straw. A cot bordered the wall farthest from the light.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she watched Dusty roll toward her on the cot. A small cut on his cheek was still bleeding, and his left eye was swollen almost closed. She saw no pleasure in his face as he looked at her, only pain.
The deputy unlocked the door and held it open for Mariah. “Don’t try nothing funny, miss.”
Mariah gave him a’ look she saved for the lowest of mankind. “I’ll need clean, hot water,” she ordered.
The deputy was used to taking orders. He nodded and locked her in the cell.
Mariah knelt beside Dusty. She pulled her riding gloves off and opened the medicine bag.
“Why did you come?” Dusty lay back and stared at the ceiling. “I thought you were safe back at the ranch.”
Mariah spread ointment on a cloth and began treating Dusty’s cut. Her actions were gentle, but her words were sharp. “We came to help.”
“We?” Dusty turned toward her.
“Mother and I,” Mariah whispered as a man opened the door and set a questionably clean bowl beside her.
Dusty closed his eyes and lay back. “Dear God, Bethanie is here. If I’m not hung tonight, Josh will kill me for putting the two of you in danger.”
“You didn’t put us into anything. We came on our own free will.”
Dusty rolled to face her. “And your free will may be the death of you both. This is not a game we’re playing in a schoolroom. The sheriff has gone to get the judge, who just happens to be at Mayson’s house. It seems he’s an old friend, and they were having some big meeting there this week.”
Mariah ran her hand along Dusty’s ribcage and felt his sharp intake of breath as she passed over two ribs. “Pull off your shirt,” Mariah ordered as she dug into the bag.
Dusty leaned forward and pulled his shirt off without an argument. He seemed hard-pressed to keep his breathing steady as Mariah moved her hand along his ribs. “I don’t think any bones are broken,” she whispered only a few inches from him. “I think I need to wrap those bottom ribs.”
She forced her eyes to stay on her task. She knew if she looked up, he would read her thoughts. The feel of his flesh sent heat through her body and centered in her cheeks. She could feel his warm breath in her hair.
As she rolled a strip of bandage around his lower chest, Dusty asked in a low voice. “Mariah, why did you come?”
“You were wrongly arrested and hurt,” Mariah answered, trying not to let him know how much his nearness affected her. “I plan on being a doctor in two years. I can’t bear to see someone suffer.”
Pain reflected in Dusty’s words. “Not even someone who kidnapped you and tried to rape you?”
Mariah looked into his golden-brown eyes. “Not even someone…who says he hates me and never wants to see me again.”
The feeling that passed between them was as real as anything tangible in the room. Dusty didn’t move toward her, but his eyes caressed her very soul. Mariah moved her hand lovingly back and forth along the bandage, feeling his heart pound beneath the dressing. No matter what had been said between them, no matter how far apart they were, what she felt for this one man could never be duplicated or contrived. She realized she loved him and would give her very life to help him.
Without breaking the spell, Dusty moved his hand up to touch her hair. His thoughts became words. “Mariah, you must go.”
Mariah shook her head, brushing the side of his hand with her cheek. “I will not.”
The guard rattled the lock before Dusty could say more.
Mariah stood and faced the guard. “He needs more medical attention. He needs to be moved to a doctor.”
The deputy shook his head. “Ain’t that much time. He’ll be dancing in the air before dusk. The judge and Mr. Mayson arrived a few minutes ago and are setting up over in the saloon now.” The deputy snicke
red. “I figure a trial like this ain’t no place for ladies like your mother and you. I’m to keep you here till it’s over.” His head nodded uncontrollably as if he had some plans to keep them amused while everyone was at the trial.
Dusty followed Mariah a foot outside his cell door. As the deputy moved closer in alarm, Dusty caught Mariah’s arm and swung her around into his embrace. Over her head, he spoke to the deputy. “Don’t mind if I kiss a pretty girl good-bye do you, Smith?”
The deputy laughed and stepped back a few feet. “Well, be quick about it.”
Dusty pulled Mariah into his arms with a sudden force, but there was no passion in his kiss. As his lips pressed against her mouth, she felt his hands slide to her gunbelt and pull her hips toward him.
When he broke the kiss, he moved to her ear and whispered, “Slap me hard, my love.”
Mariah felt confused and embarrassed in front of the men. This was no last kiss from a man about to die.
When she didn’t respond, Dusty bit down on her bottom lip and laughed as she jerked away in pain.
“What’s the matter, my little spoiled brat? You never been kissed by a man before? I guess you’ll cry rape again the minute I’m dead and name the bastard after me.”
Anger boiled in Mariah as she heard the deputies in the room laugh at Dusty’s crude remark. Her right hand was flying through the air before she thought. The slap she delivered seemed to be far more powerful than she intended, for Dusty staggered several feet across the room, almost colliding with the old stove and sending hot coffee in every direction.
She dropped her hands to her side in confusion at Dusty’s strange behavior. Her fingers rested along empty slots in the gunbelt. Several bullets were missing. Understanding dawned on Mariah as she glanced toward the stove Dusty had almost fallen into. The stove is full of bullets, her mind shouted.
Mariah grabbed the medicine bag and stormed toward Dusty. Her face was frozen in anger as her heart laughed in hope over the reckless scheme Dusty was planning. As she neared, he backed away from her toward the front door. Mariah pushed at his chest with her finger, and he moved into the light. “You lying, no good ranch hand. What makes you think you have the right to kiss me? I’m not one of your stupid farm girls that you can kiss at will.”