She handed Judge Murphy the two documents and waited triumphantly while he examined them.
The first, a sworn affidavit from Aaron and written in his own hand, promised the defendant would appear at the Tin Cup Town Hall on the scheduled date at the scheduled hour to attend the scheduled trial.
As Murphy read, the marshal abandoned his post beside Aaron, coming forward to join them, his eyes suddenly wild.
Murphy turned to the second voucher.
“That’s my receipt,” Beth informed him.
Murphy read it aloud. “‘I do hereby’—there’s a part here I can’t make out—‘acknowledge receipt of $500 for the bail of Aaron Brown.’” He stopped momentarily and commented, “I’ve never seen such a bad example of penmanship in all my living days. Harris, didn’t you attend primary school and learn how to handle an inkwell?”
Olney appeared rather agitated. “I don’t see what this has to do with—”
“Let me continue.” Murphy held up one hand and finished reading aloud. “‘The money’—more words I can’t read—‘be returned to Elizabeth Calderwood when Aaron Brown arrives to attend his trial. Signed on this day, in the’—here’s another blotch—‘year of 1882. Marshal Harris Olney.’”
“See what I mean?” Beth asked.
Murphy held out one palm toward the mountain man. “Hayes. May I see the letter you received once more?”
Hayes handed it to him, his eyes leveled on Olney’s in undisguised enmity. “I heard you left Fort Collins in a hurry, Harris Olney. I figure I’m about the only man who knows why.”
Murphy stood with the document in one hand and the letter in another, casting his eyes from one to the other. “Olney—” he turned his eyes to his marshal “—it appears as if you’ve gone to great lengths to keep Hayes from appearing in my courtroom.”
Olney burst out in audacious laughter. “You cain’t prove a thing, Murphy. Just because there’s blotches all over the both of them…just because the letters might look as if they’re formed the same way…this…this doesn’t determine a thing.” He swung in a wide circle, taking in everyone gathered beneath the cottonwood with the sweeping gesture. “Everyone in this town needs to have his head taken off and put back on straight. You’re all startin’ to believe in a man who tried to murder me….”
“What?” Hayes roared, advancing toward the marshal with fists upraised. “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard! Is that why Aaron Brown’s waiting on that muley animal to swing from a noose? You’re tryin’ to hang him for goin’ after you?”
“He did!” Olney roared back. “The jury found him guilty in a court of law.”
“In my court of law,” Murphy pointed out. “A court you obviously tried to keep this key witness out of.”
Olney lowered his head, looking like a bighorn sheep ready to butt. “You don’t know that.”
A voice rose out of the crowd. “I do. I know it.”
Hayes, Murphy, Olney and Elizabeth—all four of them turned toward Old Ben Pearsall, who was weaving his way toward them through the throng.
“I’m warning you, Pearsall,” Olney hissed between clenched teeth. “Keep your mouth shut.”
“Cain’t do that, Marshal,” he said. “I sat and watched you write that letter. I’ve spent all night talkin’ to that there defendant, and I figure him to be a kind fellow, the sort who’d follow after what’s right.”
Murphy jumped in. “You saw Olney compose this letter?”
“I did. I didn’t know the implications of it then. I do now.”
John Kincaid extricated himself from the group and joined them. He waved one hand toward Old Croppy. “Perhaps we’d best reexamine the evidence, Your Honor.”
“You stay out of this, Kincaid.” Murphy’s tone left no doubt as to his feelings toward the ungovernable lawyer. “You did about all the damage you could manage yesterday, don’t you think?”
Hayes glanced from Olney to Judge Murphy. “I’ve been tryin’ to spare Elizabeth Calderwood, sir. But I’d best say what I know.”
Murphy removed his derby and slapped it against his leg in consternation. “Everybody had best say what they know. What is it, Hayes? Out with your story.”
“I’m the only livin’ witness to this, Murphy. Marshal Harris Olney is a cold-blooded murderer.”
“You’re an eyewitness to this?”
“I am,” he said. “I couldn’t get to his side in time to save Fred. For that, ma’am—” he tipped his beaver cap at Beth “—I will stay sorry the rest of my livin’ days. But I sure got close enough to identify your lawman there.”
“What did you see?” Murphy asked as Aunt Kate moved to support Elizabeth once more.
“I was comin’ up from the fort, ridin’ my roan through the meadow, goin’ for the river to water him before I made my way back to the Utes. I heard a commotion and knew I’d best keep myself hidden until I found out who was fightin’. I saw Fred Calderwood on the ground, Olney hittin’ him with the butt of his six-shooter. I figured Olney couldn’t shoot because he couldn’t blame it on the Utes that way. He’s got a real creative way of gettin’ rid of people standin’ in his way.”
“No!” Olney shouted, struggling to get to Hayes. But the Levy brothers were too quick for him. They grabbed him by the arms and restrained him. “You weren’t there! You’re lyin’!”
Hayes kept at his story. “I crept closer and closer, tryin’ to get a good look at Fred without givin’ myself away. By the time I got close enough to jump Olney, I could tell Fred was already gone. Olney sat and skinned a rabbit, fried him up and ate him—right there—while Fred lay dead. Then he flopped Fred across his saddle horn, bound him up like he was binding up a sick calf, and headed off toward Fort Collins.”
“Where were you?” Olney screeched. “Where were you?”
“I was all around you, Olney,” Hayes said. “You forget I live plenty of months out of the year with the Utes. I know everything they do about movin’ through the brush without bein’ detected.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Murphy said.
“Aaron didn’t tell me,” Elizabeth said. “I thought you saw Fred and Harris leaving the Utes together…alive.”
“It was worse than that, Beth. I just didn’t want you to know, you bein’ in the delicate emotional state of a widow just losin’ her husband. Aaron and I decided it would be best not to tell all of it just then. That’s why Aaron stayed so adamant about coming out here and bringin’ Olney back, no matter how you pleaded with him. He knew I’d be willin’ to testify as to what I saw.”
Murphy hollered up to Gilbert Hughes, who was still sitting on a cottonwood limb, his feet dangling, waiting to finish his job. “Don’t you think that man’s been sittin’ on that fool mule long enough? Get that noose off his neck.”
Gilbert scrambled to release the knot again. “Yes, sir.”
While the Levy brothers held Olney, Judge Murphy fished around in the marshal’s back pocket for the keys to the handcuffs. He retrieved them and went to release Aaron Brown himself.
“Much obliged, Judge Murphy,” Aaron said graciously as he ran one finger around the inside of his collar to loosen it. The imprint of the rope was red and raw around his neck.
“Something tells me you’re gonna like what I’m going to do now, Brown.” Judge Murphy walked back to Olney as Beth moved to support her brother. With the Levys helping, Murphy wrestled the marshal’s arms behind his back.
Snap.
The handcuffs clinked shut around each wrist.
“This is atrocious!” Olney bellowed. “You cain’t do this to me! I’m the marshal in this town!”
Calmly J. M. Murphy reached up and removed Olney’s highly polished star from his breast pocket. “Not anymore, you aren’t. Your law-enforcement days are through, Olney.”
“It won’t stick.” Olney struggled with the Levys, but to no avail. “Hayes is just a crazy man who roams the canyon and lives with Indians. I’ll take this all the way to t
he state government. Nobody in Denver will take his word over mine.”
“That’s funny,” Murphy said, smiling slightly, “because I do. You’ve played me for a fool long enough.” The judge turned his attention to the huge group of men gathered around them. “Now. Since I’ve got a prisoner here, looks like I need to appoint a new marshal to keep a vigil over things.”
The men around him stood taller, all of them throwing their shoulders back and poking out their chests.
Murphy grinned and started toward Ben Pearsall. “I like somebody with experience. Pearsall, you’re one of the ones who broke this case wide open. Congratulations.” He pinned the shiny star on Old Ben Pearsall’s chest, and Ben stared down at it, his mouth agape. “You think you can handle this job? Can you handle the prisoner?”
Ben straightened, the glitter of the badge already reflected in his eyes. “Yes, sir, Judge Murphy. I can handle the prisoner just fine.”
He started off in the direction of the jailhouse, following the Levys, who were already transporting Harris Olney to his new quarters.
“Hey, you forgot something!” Murphy called out.
Ben turned to see the judge holding up the huge ring of metal keys he’d retrieved from Olney’s belt. “You’ll be needing these.”
“I sure will.”
“Lock him up, Marshal Pearsall,” Murphy said.
“I sure will,” Ben said.
“Hey!” Hughes climbed down from the cottonwood, the rope gathered in his hands now. “You want me to go up to Boot Hill and fill in the hole I just dug?”
“No,” Murphy said. “Leave that hole be. I figure we’ll have somebody else to bury up on Boot Hill real soon.”
Chapter Fifteen
The first thing Aaron wanted to do as he climbed down off Old Croppy’s back was to fall headlong into Uley’s arms. Only problem was, he couldn’t do it.
Like it or not, a promise was a promise.
She waited just below him, peeking up from beneath the brim of her hat, her eyes sparkling like the glassy green sapphires that occasionally turned up in the rubble from the Gold Cup Mine. Her eyes spoke of everything they’d shared, every hope still to come, as he slid down off Old Croppy and landed on the ground beside her.
“Meet me,” he whispered, as everyone else came to slap him on the back. “Tonight at nine outside the Gold Cup. It’ll be dark, and no one will see us.”
She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
They met just after dusk, Uley strolling up the mountain as if on her way to fulfill some purpose, pausing when she saw a profile standing against the looming dark mouth of the mine. Even without seeing his features, she knew Aaron by the way his Stetson tipped cavalierly to one side. She knew him by the way his broad shoulders jutted out like the T of a crossbow, by the way his lanky legs came together quickly when he heard her approach.
She stopped before him, pausing just long enough for him to know she waited. He gripped one of the lodgepoles that lined the porch and swung himself down.
“Uley?” he asked. “That you?”
“It’s me.”
Aaron strode toward her, his face still totally shadowed in the darkness.
He reached her with the lantern he carried and peered down at her, wondering if she knew how beautiful she looked with all that sweet golden glow shining on her skin. “Uley,” he said, just gazing down at her. “I thought tonight would never come.”
“It almost didn’t.” He reached for her with his hand.
She took his big fingers in her small ones and smiled up at him. It was a smile that made his soul lift with possibilities.
They walked beneath clouds etched with the silver filigree of moonlight. Uley was well aware that Aaron was comfortable with silence, unlike most people. They could both go through long stretches of it without floundering around, trying to fill it.
Night sounds encircled them, the unearthly, spectral hoot of a great horned owl observing them both from the highest point of Hansen Smith’s barn, the vibrant croaking of the frogs, loud and heralding, the muffled voices rising in discord, blending to harmony.
Strange how ten minutes of silence with the wrong person could be devastating, Uley thought. Ten minutes of silence with the wrong man.
Strange how ten minutes of silence with the right man could be wonderful, right, peaceful and filling.
As if sensing the buoyancy of her heart, Aaron stopped where he stood and swung her about. This time Uley’s face remained eclipsed, Aaron’s reflecting the gold from the flame inside lantern glass. The disarming scent of bay rum wafted between them. For the first time, Uley realized that Aaron hadn’t found the time to go back to the jailhouse and gather his things. Everyone had been so busy celebrating with him, celebrating for him, that he probably hadn’t gotten any time to himself at all. Even now he wore the perfectly tailored dark suit, the white linen shirt and the horn bolo he’d chosen to hang in.
At this moment, the reality hit Uley full-force. At this very moment, he might now be buried beneath clods of dirt up on Boot Hill. At this moment, he might be gone from her. She’d known she’d never get through the ordeal if she faced the reality of Aaron’s hanging. So she’d hidden the defeat, the love, away within her. She’d kept a close rein on all her feelings—until now.
The emotion hit her so fiercely that she felt her knees wanting to buckle. “Oh, Aaron,” she cried, the tears rising in her eyes and clogging her throat. “To think what they might have done. To think what they were going to do.”
“But they didn’t, little one,” he whispered. “They didn’t.”
“But they came so close. And we just all stood there and watched.”
“I was a murderer, remember?” Tears rose in his eyes, too, beautiful, cleansing tears of forgiveness and misplaced contrition. “You thought so, too.”
“I did.” What could she say? If she’d known, she’d have done things differently. She wouldn’t have been so quick to condemn him. She wouldn’t have been so fast to rush out at him in the road, to testify against him in a trial that had been more a farce than an act of justice.
“Uley.” His eyes, almost navy in the dusk, reflected glimmers of light, spots of white and gold and yellow bound with the blue, like firelight coming from within.
The tears coursed down her cheeks. “I don’t… I can’t…” She couldn’t speak, though she tried over and over again. “Just think, if I’d, they’d, if Dawson hadn’t, hadn’t come, or Beth, or Harris. If I’d—”
The only way Aaron knew to calm her was to do what he’d been wanting to do all evening anyway. He grabbed her against him, tucking her against his chest with a force that knocked his own breath away, even as she continued.
“I just, if you had had, I thought—”
“Hush and let me kiss you.”
“I just—”
It was the last sound she uttered. She clung to him now, as he lifted her face to meet his, found her wet skin with his lips, in the darkness, skin that sparkled like stars from the moisture there, felt her seeking him with her lips.
They found one another.
Her mouth was as wet and salty and slippery as the tear-soaked skin of her face. As the night encircled them, their mouths slid desperately into place, both of them tasting the water and the tang of Uley’s tears.
It wasn’t enough. One kiss, one caress, one groping, desperate holding in such a darkness, could never be enough to fulfill either of them or to serve as a balm for what they’d both experienced.
Aaron kissed her again, harder than the first time, turning his face sideways to give her the full force of the kiss, and she returned it in a fervid attempt to dash away the pain of this morning, the days, the weeks, all the time that they’d both fought to persevere.
He drew away momentarily, found her mouth with his thumbs, lightly brushing its corners with each one.
Her breath fanned his chin with sudden warmth. He lifted her up to him again, this time gently, this time testing her mouth as
she raised up on tiptoe. No iron bars stood between them now.
“You’re here,” she said softly. “You’re really here.”
“So are you.” He took her mouth again in a slanted, wide, all-encompassing kiss. She felt her heart hammering against her chest and her spirit welled with thankfulness. Oh, Father. Look at what You’ve done.
She wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers clasping together in his hair, pulling him down to meet her.
Just suppose she’d never known this feeling.
Just suppose Aaron had never come into her life.
Just suppose she’d gone on forever not knowing this poignant aching inside.
Encircled in Aaron’s arms, a woman took shape and was born. The joy she found inside seemed as adventurous as exploring some newfound vein of gold on the mountain.
What had happened to the child she’d been? What had happened to the young girl who’d thought she could stand beside her father and live a life such as this? That idealistic youth had vanished beneath this man’s kisses, beneath this man’s touch. In her place stood an expectant, radiant woman.
He saw it, too, as he angled away from her. “You’re beautiful,” he told her.
“Do you know,” she told him, “how many times I’ve wanted to be beautiful for you? Do you know how I’ve wished to stroll down the streets with a parasol like Beth’s? With skirts like Beth’s? With hair hanging down my back for you, hair like Beth’s hair? I wish I could be pretty.”
“You don’t have any idea how I like you the way you are. With your knickers and your hat.”
He felt her go quiet. He knew, suddenly, his last sentence had been the wrong one. It didn’t matter how he measured her beauty. It mattered how she measured it herself. It mattered that she be able to walk down Washington Street unfettered, unscathed, unblemished.
It couldn’t happen.
Not here.
The miners wouldn’t forgive her for the way she’d deceived them.
Blessing Page 21