Crossing the Line

by J. R. Roberts

  “Will you sit down?” Clint asked. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Nervous? You can’t be half as nervous as I am.”

  “Then sit down and tell me about it.”

  She stayed still for a moment before she looked ready to jump out of her skin. “Do you want some water? I want some water.”

  “Sure. Let’s both have some water.”

  Now that she had something to keep her hands busy, she calmed down a bit. Once he saw her hands had stopped trembling, Clint asked, “What do you know about Carl?”

  “Just that he’s off trying to hunt down that murdering bastard that shot poor Delilah.”

  “He’s going after George?”

  She nodded and brought two cups of water to the table where Clint was sitting. Setting both cups down, she lowered herself onto a chair and let out a slow breath. “He went to the sheriff, but that lazy pig isn’t good for anything but taking up space. He even went to Mister Pace, since he’s known Delilah ever since she came to town. But do you know what that rich man said to Carl?”

  “That hunting down a killer wasn’t good for his business?”

  “More or less. He said it was the law’s concern and that getting involved in something like that would reflect badly on the Emporium. Carl did all of this the day after George came up missing. He even tried to see about hiring bounty hunters to go after that man so he could get the justice he deserves.”

  “So Carl headed out on his own?”

  Sadie averted her eyes and bit her lip. She took a sip of water, but that didn’t seem to help loosen her tongue.

  “You can tell me,” Clint said. “I can help.”

  “Sure, that’s what I thought about the others that were supposed to help. I even went to have a word with the sheriff myself. You want to know what he said to me?”

  Clint took a sip of water, if only to try and douse the fire that was building inside of him. “No need to tell me. I was just there myself and heard more than enough.”

  The intensity in Sadie’s eyes told Clint that she was dying to tell her story anyway. She’d already gotten mad enough as it was, so she might as well burn as hot as she could get. After taking a sip of water for herself, she thought better of it. “Nobody here gives a damn about poor Delilah. At least, nobody that’s in a spot to do anything about it. That’s why Carl went off to do what he can. After what you told him,” she added with a glare, “he wanted to charge straight out and drag that killer back by the scruff of his neck.”

  “After what I told him?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. All of that fooling about with that dusty gun, shooting those cans, like that would make him into a soldier.”

  “I wasn’t trying to make him into anything,” Clint protested.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what were you trying to do?” she demanded.

  “All I told him was to hold his head up and stop walking around with his tail between his legs. Folks may look at you differently around here, but that doesn’t mean he has to think any less of himself.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! You can walk into any town you want and be the mayor if you set your mind to it. Or you can just go about your business without anyone giving you any grief. That’s not so for us, Mister Adams.”

  Clint pulled in a deep breath and then took a drink. When he was sure Sadie had finished talking, he told her, “One man’s circumstances may be different than another man’s. They may be drastically different. But every man needs to stand up straight and hold his head up. Do you honestly think I was telling him to pick up that gun of his and risk his life trying to fight a killer?”

  Though she was trying to hang on to her anger, Sadie quickly had to let it go. Actually, she simply lost the steam she needed to keep charging ahead the way she’d been doing. Finally, she closed her eyes and sighed. “You shouldn’t be the one hearing all of this, Clint. I’m sorry. It’s just that . . .”

  Since Sadie didn’t have enough wind in her sails to complete her sentence, Clint did it for her. “It’s just that there’s nobody else around here to holler at.”

  She snapped her eyes open and let out a tired laugh. “More or less. You must think I’m—”

  “I think you’re frustrated and angry with what’s happened. Talking to Sheriff DeFalco is enough to do that to just about anyone.”

  “I still shouldn’t have said those things to you. Whatever you said to Carl made him a changed man. Everyone thought so. On one walk to the store, I must’ve had a dozen people come up to me and ask what had gotten into him. They said he looked like he was the one who’d won that tournament.”

  “And you don’t have any idea where he is?”

  She shook her head. “I sure don’t.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “It’s been a day.”

  Clint thought he must have misunderstood what she’d just told him. After thinking it over for a second, he couldn’t figure out what else she could have said. “What was that?” he asked. “Did you say it’s only been a day?”

  “Right around there.”

  “I thought all of this happened weeks ago. Everything I’ve heard led me to believe that Carl’s been missing for just about that long.”

  “As far as anyone in town knows, that’s right,” Sadie replied. “But Carl comes back to check in on me every now and then. He’s worried someone will come after me when they think I’ll be here all by myself. Maybe one of George’s friends or kin will come to try and . . . well . . . I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “If you’re worried about that, why stay here?” Clint asked.

  “Carl told me to leave as well, so I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. This is my home and I won’t be chased away from it.” Softening a bit, she added, “Also, Carl comes back to check on me. I wasn’t lying before. I don’t know where he is right now, or even if he’s alive. But if he didn’t have me to worry about, he’d be out there without any reason to come back.”

  “When’s he due to pay another visit?”

  “Sometime tomorrow, I hope,” Sadie replied.

  “Would you mind if I stayed here to wait with you?”

  Suddenly, Sadie looked as if she was ready to cry. “I’d like that.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It wasn’t long before Clint needed to try and find something to do to make himself feel useful. Since he’d decided to stay with Sadie, she’d been a constant blur of motion. If she wasn’t fixing a meal, she was straightening a room of the cabin. If she wasn’t doing any of that, she was carrying things back and forth from one of the sheds outside. Even when she sat, she was either knitting or mending some piece of clothing that belonged to her or her brother.

  Every time Clint offered to help with something, she refused. He didn’t insist too strongly, because she was obviously happy to have someone to talk to while she kept her hands busy. Finally, Clint found the one chore that she wasn’t so keen to do on her own.

  “Why don’t I chop some firewood?” he asked.

  She started to reach for the axe leaning against the wall, but nodded and said, “If you don’t mind.”

  “Watching you bustle around here is making me feel like a bump on a log.”

  “You’ve been tending to your horse and—”

  “Just let me get to work,” he interrupted. “Otherwise, you’ll just talk yourself into doing it.”

  She followed Clint outside and stood a few paces away as he rolled up his sleeves and set the first chunk of wood onto an old stump. “Didn’t you have some other business to take care of?”

  Clint dropped the axe well off of center, which resulted in a thin sliver separating from the wood. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you know about this whole mess before you got here?”

  “No.”

  “Then why’d you come back to Trickle Creek?”

  Clint hefted the ax
e over his head and dropped it down on target, so two pieces of kindling flew onto the ground. “One of the men from the tournament is holding a game and I meant to play in it.”

  “When will you be going?”

  He halved another piece of wood and picked up yet another piece in a rhythm that became more solid with every movement. “I won’t.”

  “Carl won’t be here until tomorrow. He may not be on a strict schedule, but he sure won’t be early. Every time he comes back, it takes him longer to arrive, so I can guarantee he won’t be here tonight. You should go to your game.”

  “And leave you here alone? I don’t know about that.”

  She waved that off easily enough. “If nobody’s come for me yet, than nobody’s likely to. Besides, I don’t think anyone in town will want to help George do anything.”

  Clint chopped another piece of wood in half before asking, “What about those two that were with George the last time I was here? Do they have friends around town?”

  “I don’t even know who those two were.”

  “What about their names?” Clint asked, thinking he might be able to do some asking around to see if there might be anyone else in town who could be on George’s side.

  Sadie scratched her chin and then said, “I can’t even think of their names. You know, I don’t think I ever heard mention of who those two were.”

  “So much for that idea,” Clint grumbled.

  Walking up beside him, she asked, “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Clint replied before dropping the axe through another hunk of wood. “I’d rather not leave you alone. Not until I find out more about what’s going on around here.”

  “I’ve got a shotgun in the house, Clint. I can handle myself.” Reaching out to pat his shoulder, she added, “Carl and I fended for ourselves this long. We can do it for a bit longer.”

  Clint propped the axe upon the edge of the stump and worked a kink from his shoulder. “I’ve had my fill of that town. Besides, it’s not like Mack will miss me at that game. I never even sent word ahead of when I’d arrive.”

  “Fine, then. We can stay here.” So far, Sadie’s hand had yet to leave Clint’s shoulder. She rubbed his muscles through his shirt and let her eyes drift along the spots where sweat had soaked through to cause the material to stick to his skin.

  As Clint looked over at her, he found his own eyes wandering down along the smoothly curving lines of her body.

  Suddenly, both of them forced themselves to look in another direction. Clint couldn’t help thinking about what Carl would say if he knew a man was looking at his sister that way. Judging by the flustered look on her face, Sadie was thinking along those same lines.

  “Then again, maybe getting away from here would be a good idea,” Clint said. “Care to join me at that game?”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  “We really don’t have to do this,” Clint said as he escorted Sadie down the street. After spending a good portion of the day trying not to watch her, getting away from that cabin seemed like the most proper thing to do. Normally, propriety wasn’t too high on Clint’s list, but he didn’t want to take advantage of a woman in her situation.

  Of course, it was clear that she was watching him just as much. At times, she seemed to be watching him even harder.

  “You can’t promise a lady a night on the town and then back out as soon as we get here,” she scolded.

  “Well, this town has become pretty dangerous.”

  “And it’d be that way whether you were here or not. Since I never intended on hiding in that cabin, I would have been walking down these streets sooner or later. Having you with me makes me feel safe,” she said as she tightened her grip around Clint’s arm.

  They were halfway down the street when Clint stopped. “Aw, hell.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just remembered that Mack’s game is being held in Pace’s Emporium.”

  “That’s where all the big games are held,” Sadie replied. “At least, that’s what Carl always used to say.”

  “I’m sorry. You must not want to go anywhere near that place.”

  Although Sadie maintained a brave front, she wasn’t able to keep it up all the time. When she looked at the front of Pace’s Emporium, the easy smile that she’d been wearing became frayed around the edges. The vibrant glow that always came from her eyes dimmed for a second, and it looked as if she was having trouble pulling in her next breath.

  Suddenly, all of that passed.

  Sadie straightened up and said, “You told my brother to walk proud and hold his head high. You were right about that, Clint. He always walked as if he was expecting a beating. Sometimes it broke my heart to see someone so strong act so weak. I’ve got to do the same.”

  “This is different,” Clint said. “This isn’t about being weak. It’s about you not wanting to go in there so soon after—”

  “No,” she snapped. “It’s not about being weak. It’s about me walking straight into that gambling hall when everyone in this town, Mister Pace included, expects me to run away or hide up in that cabin.” She cinched her arm around Clint’s and showed him a genuine smile. “I want to see the look on all those faces when they see me walking in there with you.”

  After hearing the things Sheriff DeFalco said about Carl and Delilah, Clint could only imagine what was said to Sadie’s face when she’d gone around asking all those same questions. Besides that, if anyone was out to attack Sadie for any reason, they’d probably look for her at her cabin. Clint knew the layout of Pace’s pretty well and could watch her just as well there as anywhere else.

  “All right, then,” Clint said. “Promise to stay close to me.”

  “There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  Her answer had come so quickly that it seemed to surprise her. Sadie flashed a broad smile and fell into step beside Clint, as if to say it was a pleasant surprise indeed.

  They walked into Pace’s together, arm in arm. Among the people there to watch their entrance was Sheriff DeFalco. The moment he got a look at the pair, he shook his head and walked for the door. Once he was gone, the place took on a much more welcoming feel.

  “Good to see you, Clint,” Mack said as he approached them. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

  “You should be so lucky,” Clint said.

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “Sadie Malloy,” she said before Clint could introduce her.

  Mack nodded appreciatively and took in the sight of her. She’d dolled up for the evening in a dress that was one of the better ones she owned, but not nearly as silky as the ones worn by most other ladies in the room. “Will you be joining us this evening? I know Clint will need all the good luck he can get.”

  “Is that the table where we’ll be playing?” she asked as she pointed to a large table that was sectioned off from the room by a partition that had been set up to keep bystanders to a minimum.

  “It certainly is.”

  “Then I’ll most definitely be joining you,” she said.

  As he followed Mack toward the back of the room, Clint figured Sadie was talking so much to put on a good appearance. He didn’t think much of it until she began dragging her feet and slowing him down like an anchor that had been hooked to his elbow. When he was practically brought to a stop, Clint asked, “What is it? Do you want to leave?”

  “You see that man back there?” she whispered. “The one getting up from the table?”

  Clint looked at the table where Mack’s game was being held and couldn’t miss the portly gentleman wearing an expensive suit struggling to wriggle out from between his chair, the table, and the wall. “Yeah. What about him?”

  “I think he knows something about what happened when Delilah was shot.”

  Clint could tell the man wanted to get away from the table, but he could very well have needed to visit an outhouse. “What makes you think that?” he asked. />
  “His name’s Tom Naderman, and usually he’s always got a kind word for me. Carl told me he’d been getting friendly with George while building up a whole lot of debt at the tables. Since he’s running like a rabbit instead of looking at me, I’d say he’s got something to hide.”

  Now, Clint looked over to Sadie. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  She shrugged and said, “I’ve lived here for years. You want me to tell you everything I know about everyone?”

  “Well, come on. Let’s see if ol’ Tom’s got anything to say.”

  THIRTY

  Mack protested the moment he saw Clint steer away from the table, but wasn’t about to follow him and Sadie to the door. Fortunately, Tom Naderman wasn’t a small man and probably couldn’t have gotten away at a dead run with a ten-second head start. Even with Sadie in tow, Clint got to him before Tom made it to the door.

  “Evening, Tom,” Sadie said cheerfully.

  Tom whipped around and sucked in a breath. “Oh, uh, evening Sadie. Who . . . ahhh . . . who’s this with you?”

  “You know Clint. He won the last tournament.”

  “Oh, yeah. I think I recall that.”

  “You were in it,” Clint said. “I just remembered, you were sitting at one of the front tables and were knocked out early.”

  Tom nodded and backed toward the door. “That’s right. What can I do for you?”

  While Clint may have had his doubts about Sadie’s hasty assessment of why Tom was squirming away from the poker game, he didn’t have any now. Everything from the shifting of Tom’s eyes to the fresh streams of sweat trickling from his forehead advertised the fact that he was hiding something and was nervous as hell about it.

  “Where are you going?” Sadie asked. “Weren’t you gonna say hello?”

  “Sure I was,” Tom said with a shaky laugh. “Just . . . uh . . . needed to step outside to answer the call of nature.”

  “Outhouse is on the other side of the building,” Clint pointed out.

  “Oh. So it is. Guess I’m a little nervous.”

  “Still in your slump?” Sadie asked. “Carl told me you were into Delilah for a whole lot of money. He mentioned you and she had some unfriendly words after the tournament.”