Wordless, Colin gazed after the man’s retreating back.
Bowerstock was nearly beside himself. With a fist, he pounded the train car.
“It was those females on the train! They scared him off.”
A sinking feeling told Colin he might be right. And where did that leave him? He fingered the star on his vest and considered unpinning it and simply handing it to the mayor. But could he saddle up and leave town to a mob of women?
Mostly, could he leave Rebecca?
TWENTY-THREE
The peaceful protest progressed exactly as Mrs. Diggs had planned. Close to fifty women, including many who had never shown public support for the movement before, gathered near the river on the far end of town to hear rousing speeches by both Mrs. Willard and Mrs. Shaw, who urged them to stand firm in their mission to expel the evil influence of liquor from every corner of society.
To Rebecca’s extreme embarrassment, Mrs. Diggs spoke last and pointed out the injustice of Rebecca’s treatment at the hand of corrupt men who, all the while, were enjoying profits from the illegal sale of whiskey in Lawrence. Rebecca would have ducked behind the crowd but for Sassy, whose zeal far exceeded her own. Her friend kept grabbing her hand and thrusting it into the air with wildly enthusiastic cheers.
When the speeches ended, the ladies formed lines to march up and down the streets of Lawrence. Many carried signs proclaiming “My Home Is Dry” and “Salvation Through Temperance.” At Mrs. Diggs’ insistence, Rebecca took her place on the front line, one arm linked with a tall, stern-faced visitor. Mrs. Carrie Nation said little, but fervor for the cause blazed in her eyes. Sassy hugged Rebecca’s other arm close, clearly delighted at her position on the front line.
They sang as they marched. The unfamiliar songs told of ruined lives and vowed “Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine!” People gathered along the streets to stare as they marched. Several times Rebecca glimpsed Colin’s face among the watchers, but she could not force herself to meet his eye. Sassy strutted with her head held high, but Rebecca’s spirits sank lower than ever. This “peaceful” protest did not feel peaceful. It felt vulgar. What would Papa say if he saw her here? And where was Jesse? Should he not have arrived by now? What if Mr. Diggs had been unable to convince him to come? She should have gone herself and left these ladies to their march on their own.
They reached the bridge and prepared to turn down Massachusetts Street, the place where all of Rebecca’s trouble had started. Colin and Hal stood in front of the jail, looking their way. She caught sight of Amos peeking from behind a building. Mrs. Diggs halted, and the ladies all came to a stop.
She turned a smile toward Rebecca. “My dear, I believe your beau has arrived.”
Rebecca looked away from Colin and followed the woman’s gaze to the bridge. Two horses rode across, heading toward them. The older rider she recognized as Mr. Diggs, and beside him—
Jesse!
She dropped the arms of Sassy and Mrs. Nation and raced to meet them. When they stepped off the bridge, she searched Jesse’s face. Yes, it was he. Her Jesse. Slim and as ruggedly handsome as she remembered—but four years had wrought changes in him. He was not only slim, she realized, but thin. Painfully thin. His cheeks had a gaunt, hollow look she didn’t remember. His hair hung long, down his collar, and the length had turned the attractive curl into untidy strings. With dismay she noted his stained shirt and trousers, which gave him a generally unkempt appearance.
Of course, he had been on a horse for two days.
When he has time to clean up, he will look better.
Jesse caught sight of her. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curved in the exact smile she remembered. “Do I know you?”
“I’m…Rebecca.”
“Who?
Her heart thudded. Did he not recognize her? “Rebecca Switzer—Emma’s little sister?”
A horrible suspicion crept over her.
“You remember Emma and Luke, don’t you?”
Unfocused eyes fixed on her face, and recognition slowly dawned on his features. “Hey, look a’choo all grown up.”
The timber of his voice was the same, but the words ran together in a slur. He wavered in the saddle, and dismay stole over her. “Jesse, are you ill?”
“Me? Never better!” He noticed the crowd then, and his face brightened. “Hey, a party! Looks like we’re just in time. Somebody pour me a drink.”
He raised up on one stirrup and swung his other leg over the horse’s back to dismount. But his foot became tangled. In the next moment he hit the ground, rolled over onto his back, and with a guffaw, lay there staring up at her.
“He’s not ill,” said Mr. Diggs in a dry voice. “He’s pie-faced drunk.”
Behind her, the ladies gasped. In horror, Rebecca looked down at her one true love, who made no attempt to rise, but chuckled and slurred, “Gettin’ clumsy in m’old age.”
“Alvin, what is the meaning of this?” demanded Mrs. Diggs, outrage clear in her rigid posture.
Mr. Diggs shook his head, disgust curling his lip as he cast a scornful gaze down at Jesse.
“I said I’d bring him and I did, but it wasn’t easy.” He glanced at Rebecca. “When I got to Cider Gulch, I had no trouble finding him. He is well known. The first person I asked knew where to find him.”
Dread and disappointment clogged her throat, but she managed to ask, “At his ranch?”
The man gave a bitter laugh. “Ranch? He’s no rancher, Miss Switzer, though they told me he hires himself out as a cowhand whenever he’s sober enough for the work. No, they said I would find him at his home—a town bench. He was drunk as a skunk.”
Jesse was the town drunk?
Her sprits fell and Colin’s words came home to roost. Put away childish thoughts…
Rebecca didn’t bother to hide the tears that slid down her cheeks and dripped onto the butter-yellow fabric of her dress as she helped Mr. Diggs and Sassy drag Jesse out of the street. The ladies, with many disapproving stares, marched on. She couldn’t meet their gazes as they passed by. What a fool she had been. She staggered beneath Jesse’s weight as they neared a bench in front of the Eldridge Hotel. He had not settled down. Fallen down was more like it.
They dropped him onto the bench.
“I found out this morning that his saddlebags had bottles of whiskey.” Mr. Diggs straightened and, with a disgusted gesture, brushed dirt off of his coat. “By the time I awoke, he had drained them.” His expression softened when he turned toward Rebecca. “I am sorry, my dear. I should have left him there, but I’d given my word.”
Rebecca couldn’t manage a response. She silently watched him return to the bridge and the horses.
Sassy put an arm around her shoulders and hugged. “Don’t worry about it, Becca. I’ve seen worse than him.”
“You have?” She couldn’t imagine what worse looked like.
“Sure.” Sassy waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll sleep it off. He’ll be okay in a few hours.” She placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head to examine him. “He’s not a bad lookin’ fella. With a little soap and water, he ought to clean up nice.”
A shout from down the street drew their attention. A small group of men had formed and taken a stand in the center of the street, blocking the ladies’ progress.
“Uh-oh. Trouble is a’brewin’.” Sassy’s eyes glittered and she rubbed her hands together. “Come on. I don’t want to miss it.”
She grabbed Rebecca’s arm and took off. Allowing herself to be pulled down the street, Rebecca cast a look over her shoulder at Jesse. He sprawled across the bench, arms dangling, and a sound like splintering timber rose from his open mouth. A fresh wave of tears blurred her vision. With all her daydreaming and plans for their future, she had never foreseen this.
The peaceful march had come to a stop, and the ladies’ lines had broken directly in front of the Lucky Dollar Saloon. They stood in a close group behind Mrs. Diggs and the leaders from the East, who faced a group of perhaps
a dozen men. Sassy pulled Rebecca around the side and right up to the front. With a start, Rebecca realized the man standing in front was none other than Judge Tankersley, with Mayor Bowerstock right beside him.
The judge caught sight of her. “That’s the one.” He pointed at her, his glare deepening. “She’s one of the women who started all the trouble.”
Tears forgotten, Rebecca stiffened. She may have acted foolishly in several areas since she left Apple Grove, but starting trouble with the movement was not one of them.
She fearlessly faced the man. “I did nothing wrong.”
Sassy stepped up beside her and threw an arm around her in a stand of solidarity. “You’re the one who is wrong, treating a lady like a criminal and throwing her in jail. We won’t stand for it anymore.” She glanced around the group of women, inviting support. “Right?”
Shouts of “That’s right!” and “No more!” answered her. Sassy preened, and her eyes took on a zealous gleam.
Not far away, Rebecca saw Amos watching the confrontation from Mrs. Evans’ porch. At the sight of his black trousers, his suspenders strapped over his shoulders, his round hat and bushy beard, a longing came over her. He looked so…familiar. Oh, how she missed her home. How she longed to put this noisy, dirty town behind her and go home.
Then someone touched her sleeve. She turned, and her heart twisted in her chest when she looked up into Colin’s solemn face.
“Sheriff, I demand that you apprehend these rabble-rousers.” Judge Tankersley’s finger stabbed toward the crowd of women.
Colin wrapped his hand around Rebecca’s arm and managed to maneuver her behind him. This confrontation was going to spark in a minute, and he wanted her out of the way when it happened.
“Now, Tank, let’s all stay calm.” He pitched his voice to be heard. “Ladies, you’ve had your protest, and made your point. Go on home now.”
Annie Diggs raised her voice to be heard over his. “We will not stop until we have marched through every street in Lawrence!”
A chorus of cheers answered her. Sassy’s voice rose louder than the others, her face flushed with fervor.
Colin gave her a warning look, which she ignored.
Bowerstock stepped forward from his place at Tank’s side, peering into the crowd with a look of disbelief on his face. “Mildred? Is that you? You get out of there!”
Toward the center of the protest group, Colin caught sight of Mrs. Bowerstock’s grim expression as she shook her head and raised her sign higher.
Tankersley, who had turned purple with rage, stomped forward and thrust his face into Colin’s. “Arrest them, I say! They’re a menace.”
This was starting to turn out far too similar to the last “peaceful” protest, and Colin didn’t intend to get roped into that again.
“As I said earlier, they haven’t done anything illegal.” He sent a stern stare toward Annie. “Yet.”
“Not done anything illegal?” Tank looked ready to explode. “What about destroying private property?”
Colin shook his head. “Whose property?”
“Mine. I had a…” He fumbled for a word. “An item on my land, and these fanatics tore it to pieces.”
Colin had almost forgotten Rebecca stood behind him until she stepped forward, her gaze on the judge. “The still belonged to you?”
Triumph flashed onto his face. “See? She did it. I knew she was a troublemaker. Arrest her, Maddox!”
A screech sounded. “A still?”
The ladies shuffled to make way for a heavyset woman who had been standing toward the back. Mrs. Tankersley marched forward, a sign proclaiming “Destroy the Devil’s Drink” held in her hands.
She marched over to the judge and shouted, “You have a still?”
The blood drained from Tank’s face, leaving him pasty looking. “Now, Hazel, don’t—”
Before Colin could move to stop her, she raised her sign and bashed him over the head.
It was the spark he’d feared. Chaos erupted among the women. They ran forward, signs swinging. Sassy’s voice rose above the fray. “Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine!” Her call was taken up by several others.
Colin grabbed Rebecca’s arm and pulled her away from the mob to the other side of the street.
“You stay out of this,” he commanded.
Wide eyes fixed on the fracas, she nodded.
He turned and saw the judge on his knees, his arms thrown over his head to protect himself from continued blows from his wife’s sign. He spotted Hal heading that way. On the opposite side of the street, Sassy stood in the doorway of the saloon, shouting toward the inside. She stepped aside as a handful of men, including Ed, raced out and, after a moment’s pause, waded into the brawl. With a satisfied grin, she dashed inside. Colin groaned. Whatever she intended in there, it couldn’t be good.
He heard someone shout, “Hey, take your hands off my wife!” A man plowed into the crowd. Fists flew and ladies screamed. Men were running to join the tumult from every direction now, and he lost sight of the judge.
With a groan, Colin started for the saloon. Something caught his eye. Down the street, a man waited beside the mercantile, notable because he was the only one on the street not running to or from the riot. He stood with his back pressed against the side of the building, his hat low on his head. As Colin watched, he slowly slipped around the corner and disappeared.
Alarm prickled the hair across the back of Colin’s neck. Something about that man wasn’t right. Was Benton making a move?
This was supposed to be my last day on the job. Now the whole town’s falling apart at once. Lord, this is not fair.
Not fair. And also not a coincidence. Kaspar hadn’t been referring to the arrival of the new sheriff with his smug “Today’s the day.” He knew something was up. If Benton and the others had somehow gotten wind of the ladies’ intent to march, what better day to stage a holdup? The lawmen, old and new, would be distracted trying to keep the peace. He glanced at the riot starting to spread out as women moved away from the brawling men. The distraction had proven to be much bigger than Benton could have hoped for.
What could he be planning?
The answer occurred to Colin the same instant as the question. The man he’d just seen was standing by the mercantile. And on the other side of the mercantile was the bank.
Colin took off at a run.
From his vantage point in front of Mrs. Evans’ shop, Amos watched the wild ufrooish of the Englischers with increasing disbelief. Everywhere he looked, violence was being done. Men hitting men. Women hitting men. Shouting and screaming and rolling in the dirt.
The fighting had spread out, and part of the riot now occurred directly in front of him. Should he do something to stop it? But how? What? At least Rebecca was safe and maintaining a peaceful stance of nonviolence. She stood across the street, watching with an expression of helpless bewilderment.
A man ran in Amos’s direction. Behind him, a woman chased him with one of the signs held over her head, intending to use it as a weapon. His suit coat flapped in the breeze created by his speed. When it became obvious that the man would run right into him, Amos stepped to one side.
The man ran up the steps onto Mrs. Evans’ porch, the woman following closely. When he reached the door, he turned, his arms thrown up to protect his head. But when the woman brought the sign down, he grabbed it out of her hand.
“There,” he shouted. “Now, Hazel, let’s talk reasonably.”
As Amos watched, the man swung his arm wide, intending to toss the sign off the porch. He must have been standing closer to the building than he thought. Amos winced at the loud crash when the sign’s sturdy wooden post smashed through the front window of the milliner’s shop.
A furious scream rang above the shouts, and Mrs. Evans ran out from the midst of the crowd.
“Joseph Tankersley, you’ve broken my new window!”
If Amos had not been familiar with the sweetness of Mrs. Evans’ personali
ty, he would have been terrified at the fury on her face as she bore down on Judge Tankersley.
More glass shattered, the sound muffled, and this time from farther away. A large man bellowed like a bear and ran into the saloon.
Amos glanced across the street. Rebecca was not there. He scanned the crowd, desperate for a glimpse of her yellow Englisch dress.
The large man reappeared in the saloon’s doorway. Blood drained from Amos’s head when he saw Sassy struggling in his viselike grip.
“Let go of me, you big ox!”
His angry shout was directed toward the crowd. “She smashed all the liquor!” He lifted her up by the arms, her feet dangling above the street.
Horror bloomed in Amos. Did he intend to hurt a helpless woman?
Sassy kicked, and the man dropped her to double over in pain. When she landed on the ground, she lost her balance and fell headfirst into the brawl.
Before he had time to consider his actions, Amos’s feet were swiftly taking him toward the fight.
TWENTY-FOUR
Colin slipped around the side of the restaurant so he could get a clear view of the back of the bank. He’d taken an alley to cross over to Vermont Street so he could approach the bank from the rear. The man he’d seen earlier stood holding the reins of five saddled horses. The back door to the bank was open. A grim frustration took hold of the sheriff. He should have seen this coming. All of his deputies were watching the outskirts of town except Hal, whom he asked to help watch the ladies’ march. He had no backup.
Five horses, one man. That means four more are inside.
And he’d bet a month’s pay he knew the identity of at least three of them: Benton, Hughes, and Calhoun. No doubt there were supposed to be six in this gang, but Kaspar was locked up in the jail.
This fellow here wasn’t familiar, and he was on the young side. Nervous. His head snapped back and forth in a jerky motion, and as Colin watched, he raised his arm to wipe sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. New to the outlaw business, apparently. Might even be his first job. Wasn’t much good at being a lookout. He kept staring into the bank, leaving his backside unguarded. Taking care of him wouldn’t be a problem.
A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove) Page 21