Until Tomorrow

by Rosanne Bittner

  Addy well knew what many of the men and the one woman around her were thinking—that she had been raped. But she ignored them as she faced the sheriff. “I wasn’t sure if you would even be here,” she told him. “Apparently you gave up searching for me.”

  The sheriff removed his hat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kane. We lost the trail.”

  Addy nodded. “Can we go inside?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Page stepped aside and let Addy go ahead of him, telling Brad and the one woman in the crowd, Hilda Temple, the owner of a hat store, to come in with him as witnesses to what Addy had to say.

  Addy walked inside, taking a chair near Page’s desk, wondering what these people would think of her if they knew the real reason for the look of sorrow on her face. It wasn’t so much for what she had been through. It was over the fact that she and Nick Coleman had parted ways only an hour ago. They had shared a twenty-four hour ride together, and she had admired his skills in the wilds, enjoyed watching his broad-shouldered frame on the big horse he rode. He had been protective and respectful, and through the dark night they had spent together she had not feared wild animals … nor had she feared Nick Coleman, who slept in his own bedroll only a few feet away from her. It had been obvious he was accustomed to sleeping under the stars, that he was a man who could find his way around any kind of country and could guard himself against any intruder, man or beast, as well as make a camp anywhere and fend for himself.

  “Anything we can get you, Mrs. Kane?” Page asked.

  “No. I just want to get home and rest. I have to get my things ready for my trip. The house is already sold, you know. I’m supposed to be out in five more days.”

  “You sure you’re up to traveling that far now?” Brad asked her. He took a chair near her, and Sheriff Page sat down at his desk, scratching at the shadow of a beard. Hilda Temple remained standing behind Addy, and Addy thought how silly it was to have her here. If she had been raped and needed a woman’s comfort, Hilda would certainly not be the one she would pick. The woman had totally turned her back on Addy’s mother and Addy all through the war.

  “I’ll be all right. I have even more reason to leave, Mr. Barlow,” Addy answered. “After the strain of the last few days, I just need to get away and start a new life.” She turned her gaze from Barlow and met the sheriff’s eyes. “I was not abused, if that is what you are thinking.”

  Page frowned. “There’s a bruise on your face, and some bad scrapes.”

  Addy sighed. “Jack Slater hit me and knocked me to the ground because I refused to cook for him when they made camp,” she lied. “On the journey to their hideout, they were in too much of a hurry to harm me otherwise.” She felt her face flushing redder. “When we reached their cabin, all they wanted was to eat and drink and count their money. Then the one they shot and left behind … he showed up for revenge. He told Jack to let me go and … there was a gunfight. Jack shot him again and he … died.” Yes, Nick Coleman truly was dead to her now. “Jack made the other two take him out and bury him. I have no idea how far they took him. They were gone a long time. I could never even find that cabin for you, let alone a grave in those deep woods. I think … I think we were somewhere in western Kentucky, since Unionville is so close to the border, and we headed in that direction.”

  Page nodded. “We figured as much, but we lost the trail when it led to some rocky hills and a deep stream. We were worried maybe you were killed. That big one, his name’s Nick Coleman, he managed to get to his gun and escape, stole Brad’s horse. How’d you happen to come back on it? Doesn’t seem to me men like that would let a good horse like Charger go, or that they’d see that you got back here all right.”

  Addy looked at her lap, always finding it difficult to lie. “They apparently decided they could make a better run for it if they returned me and Mr. Barlow’s horse. They didn’t want kidnapping and horse stealing added to the list of things they’re wanted for. They were also afraid Nick Coleman had been followed. They just wanted to get out fast and get rid of anything that might slow them down.”

  Page frowned, rubbing his chin. “They’re already wanted for bank robbery and murder. I’d say that’s plenty.”

  “I suppose.” Addy closed her eyes and sighed. “Who knows how such minds work? I only came here first to return the stolen horse and to tell you what happened. I was used like a slave, cooking mostly, washing their clothes and blankets, helping them prepare for a long journey into Indian Territory. Jack Slater was slightly hurt in the shootout with Nick Coleman. I had to dress his wounds. That’s how I got the blood on my dress. They had to wait until Jack could travel, which is another reason why I was kept those extra couple of days. You should know they kept all the money. When Jack was ready to travel they put me on Charger and brought me close enough to town for me to find the rest of the way alone. They all headed south into Tennessee, said they were going into Indian Territory to lay low for a while. I … considered trying to escape several times before that, but we were so deep in a dense forest that I had no idea which way to go. They would have caught me, and I was afraid that would only aggravate them into perhaps killing me … or doing something worse than death, so I cooperated.”

  Page studied her a moment, and Addy prayed her lies sounded valid. “You sure you aren’t hiding the fact that those men did more to you than you say? You don’t have to be afraid to tell us, Mrs. Kane. It just adds to the things those sorry bastards are wanted for.”

  Addy shook her head. “No. I swear. They didn’t … abuse me that way. All I know now is that they’re on their way south with the stolen money, and that the one called Nick Coleman is dead.”

  “Serves him right,” Brad grumbled.

  “Can I do anything for you, dear?” Hilda asked, moving to stand beside Addy’s chair.

  Addy looked up at her, tempted to give her a sneer. Where were you when my mother and I really needed you? she thought. Now her mother was buried, partly from a broken heart because of people like Hilda. “No, thank you,” she answered.

  “Well, at least one of them is out of the way,” Page spoke up. “We can take down the wanted posters for Nick Coleman, although one has to give him a little credit for trying to get them to release you. When he left here he did say that was one thing he was going to do, besides kill Jack Slater. Too bad he didn’t accomplish both.”

  “Yes,” Addy answered, staring at her lap. God be with you, Nick Coleman. At least there would be no wanted posters on him. Perhaps if he just kept going west, maybe someplace like Texas, he could be free. Still, there was no one to care about him. If he kept his attitude of not worrying whether he lived or died, kept running with thieves and pros—why on earth did it upset her to imagine him with prostitutes? She must stop this! “I would like to go now,” she said, looking up at Sheriff Page. “I need a hot bath and some sleep.”

  “Of course, but I need the names of the other two men, if you know them.”

  Addy rose. “One was Cal Arden. The other one was called Ted, but I don’t know his last name. He was the youngest one. I don’t think he’s as bad as the others. He seemed upset that Jack Slater had shot Nick Coleman during the robbery.”

  Brad Barlow folded his arms in disgust. “But not upset that Slater had shot an innocent teller.”

  “I’ve contacted Paducah and Mount Vernon,” Page said. “The three that got away are pretty well known, and we have pictures of them. I’d like you to stick around, Mrs. Kane, till a rider can get here from Paducah. I want you to look at the pictures and make sure they’re the same men. I guess nobody’s got a picture of Nick Coleman, but if he had lived, it would have been easy to describe him, big as he was, with that dark hair and that scar along his hairline, blue eyes. After he was shot we all got a good look at that one, but I guess that doesn’t matter now.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Addy answered, relieved that no one would be searching for Nick. Maybe she was wrong to lie this way and let the man go free, yet she could no
t bring herself to tell the truth. “Are you going to go after the ones who got away?” Page rose and stretched, and Addy thought what a lazy excuse for a sheriff he was. This time she was glad. She didn’t want Cal and Ted to be found. They would tell the truth—that it was Jack Slater who was dead, not Nick Coleman.

  Page rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t think so. Men like that, they know their territory. In the deep woods and mountains of Tennessee, where they’re most likely headed, it’s pretty hard to do any tracking, but I’ll alert the authorities in Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas. I doubt they’ll have any luck. I think Mr. Benedict’s money is just plain gone. He’s pretty upset.”

  Good, Addy thought. She stood up, the trauma of the last five days beginning to catch up with her now. She felt suddenly weak and deathly tired. “I’ll look at the pictures when they arrive,” she told Page. “I just want to go home now.”

  Page studied her, thinking what a pretty woman she was, soft-spoken, reputable. He liked her all right himself, thought it was about time the townspeople put the war behind them and quit condemning people for what their relatives did in the war. But then it didn’t matter much now. Addy Kane was headed west. “What about the money you lost?” he asked her. “How will you be able to get to Colorado?”

  It irritated Addy to think that the whole town knew what she had planned to do. Obviously they all had been gossiping about her, gossip most likely fueled by women like Hilda Temple and old Sara Webster. She struggled not to look guilty as she thought about the money she had hidden on her person right now. “I’ll manage,” she told him. “My transportation there is paid. Maybe once I get there they can give me an advance on my teaching salary.”

  “Oh, but you must have a little money to take along, for food and such,” Hilda spoke up. “I’ll see about taking up a collection for you.”

  Addy turned and met the woman’s eyes, amazed at the offer, feeling sick that now, after her mother had gone to her grave with a broken heart, this woman would finally offer to help. Where were you when I was scrubbing floors for a living because I couldn’t get any other kind of work in this town? “Fine,” she answered aloud. “That would be … very generous of you.” Yes, she would take every cent this woman could raise for her. This town owed it to her, and Addy felt like laughing, knowing that under her clothes was some of their money, as well as all the money she had lost in the robbery … and all thanks to an outlaw she had led them to believe was dead. Nick Coleman had made it possible for her to get a little revenge of her own against this town … and the last laugh.

  She moved past Mrs. Temple and went outside, where people still waited, whispering and staring. She walked on shaky legs toward the little frame house at the north end of town where her mother and father had lived since she was born twenty-five years ago, a house where many cherished memories from childhood remained. She had left it at seventeen to go to Hope College in Michigan, where she had met Tom Kane, married, lost him to war. The war had brought so much death and injury, not just to the men who had fought in it, but to those left behind. It frightened her to go someplace new and far away, but even if these people started being kinder to her because of her ordeal, the damage was already done. She could not stay.

  People peppered her with questions, and a reporter for the town paper ran up to her, repeating those questions. Addy refused to answer, telling the reporter she would talk to him after she had rested. She really did not care about feeding their sick curiosity, but talking to the newspaper was just one more way of making sure everyone thought Nick Coleman was dead.

  She struggled to her house, turning and asking everyone to please leave, telling the reporter she would come and see him when she was rested. She went inside and closed the door, locking it and leaning against it for a moment to gather her thoughts. She moved to a window and peered through lace curtains to see people gradually leaving, exchanging theories on what might have happened to her. She moved to a side window then, watching the wooded hills to the east. Nick was out there somewhere … alone.

  Nick broke camp, tired of the sleepless nights he’d had since leaving Addy Kane near Unionville. He wondered why that one night they’d camped outside, it had been harder to stay away from her than when they were alone in the cabin. Maybe it was because he knew it was the last night they would spend together, that the next day they would say good-bye for good. Part of him had wondered if maybe trying to get closer to her, maybe one little kiss, might have changed both their minds about parting. He could have offered to take her with him.

  Hell no! A beautiful, educated woman like that wouldn’t go running off with an outlaw into Indian Territory! She was a decent woman, like Bethanne. Women like that married men of good reputation with good jobs. They lived in nice houses, stable homes, where they raised their children. They lived the kind of life he used to live with Bethanne, the kind of life he could probably never live again. Besides, neither of them was truly healed from the war. They would go on with their lives in very different ways, each finding his and her own way of forgetting. He had chosen the wrong way, and now he was stuck with it.

  He poured leftover coffee onto the few hot coals from the fire he’d made the night before, then kicked some dirt over it. He packed his gear, angrily stuffing things into his saddle bags and rolling up his blankets, wishing he could get Addy Kane off his mind. That first time he looked at her in the bank … it seemed he felt fate pulling at him, felt some strange connection to the woman. The only explanation was that she looked so much like Bethanne, but damned if she wasn’t easy to talk to. He’d never told anyone the whole story about Patty before, the burns on his arm. The only thing a few men he’d run with knew was that his wife and little girl were dead. Jack and the others had only known that somehow Howard Benedict had been responsible, but he’d never told them the details.

  He’d never told anyone … except Addy. Something about her made him feel better inside, and for the first time in years he realized what he missed in life. He missed having someone give a damn about him … and God, he missed the way Bethanne had loved him, how good it felt to wrap himself around her at night. And he missed his precious Patty, her bright smile, her little kisses, the way she used to proudly make cookies for him, with her grandma’s help.

  “I ought to hate her,” he grumbled, speaking of Addy. It was her fault all these memories had been awakened in him, her fault he had allowed himself to experience feelings again, to want to hold someone lovingly. It was her fault it suddenly hurt to realize there was not one person on this earth who cared about him, probably not even Addy Kane.

  He saddled his horse, tightened the cinch, then tied on his gear. “What do you think, Shadow?” he said to the animal as he mounted up. “Should we really head into Indian Territory?” He thought about the crumbling little cabin where he’d spent two nights with Addy, how just her presence had made it seem almost like home. He touched the little burlap bag that held the bread she had baked for him. What was it about fresh-baked bread that gave a man a good feeling? He remembered when Bethanne used to bake. There was something about warm bread from the oven that seemed to represent the warmth from a woman’s heart.

  “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled. He took a moment to pull out his six-gun to make sure it was fully loaded, then headed Shadow south. He figured he’d better stay clear of homes and towns for a while. Once he turned west he’d come upon the Mississippi. After he crossed that he could head straight into Indian Territory … or he could board a riverboat and head upstream to St. Louis, then west to Independence and hop a train across Kansas into Colorado. If Addy thought that was a good place to start over, then maybe it could be for him, too. He would just have to be careful and hope no one recognized him. By now, if Addy did her job right, everyone thought Nick Coleman was dead; and if he got far enough away, he’d be a free man. He could get out of the hellish life he was living now … maybe. Then again, he knew the real reason he thought about heading farther west. A
ddy was going there, too.

  “The hell with it,” he said, adjusting his leather hat. He rubbed at his sore shoulder, grinning at the vision of Addy digging her fingers into him to try to find a bullet. “It’s Indian Territory,” he told Shadow. “Let’s go.”

  Man and horse continued their way through the dense forest toward the Tennessee border.

  Addy disembarked the River Queen to greet her sister on the dock at St. Louis. They embraced, but Addy could feel the lingering distance between them. Harriet had written a few times, had said she would gladly help Addy and their mother financially when their mother was still alive; but because their father had fought for the Confederacy, Harriet’s husband, Gary Burns, who was from Illinois had refused to help. Gary was a pompous ass as far as Addy was concerned, a man born into money, who went into the Union Army as an officer only because his father could pull strings. He knew nothing of struggle, and in Addy’s opinion, he knew nothing about how to truly love anything but money. She could not imagine what Harriet saw in him besides riches, and because she had let the man keep her from helping her own family, Addy had lost respect for her sister.

  “I’m so glad you stopped to see us before going on to Colorado,” Harriet told her. “I got your wire three days ago. Gary said it was all right to come and meet you, bring the children. I have our carriage, too. What hotel are you staying at?”

  The words hurt deeply. Apparently Gary did not intend for Addy to stay at their home tonight. “I still need to get a room.” She stepped back, looking Harriet over. Her sister had their father’s ash blond hair, but she and Addy both shared their mother’s green eyes. Harriet, of course, wore an elegant dress, a deep blue silk day gown with a matching hat and parasol. She had put on a little weight, but then she also had two children now, two little girls, five and seven, who presently sat in the carriage arguing about something, scratching at each other like the spoiled brats that they were.