A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove)

by Virginia Smith

  The others, though…

  Colin couldn’t go charging into the bank by himself. With four against one, he’d be dead before he got three steps inside. And once the shooting started, they would probably kill anybody else in there as well, such as the bank manager and any customers that happened to be there when the robbery took place.

  Colin scanned the area, looking for anything he could make use of. Barrels and empty crates lay scattered behind the mercantile next door. They were close enough to provide cover, though he wouldn’t be completely unseen unless he crouched behind a big barrel. And the wood would slow down a bullet, but it wouldn’t stop one.

  A plan began to take shape. Desperate, to be sure, and he’d better shoot fast, or he would end up dead on what was supposed to be his last day as a lawman.

  First, take care of the kid.

  Moving slowly, he unstrapped his holster and slid his revolver out. Crouching, he watched the nervous young man look right and then left. When he turned his head to stare through the bank doorway, Colin dashed out from the cover of the restaurant. Running in a crouch, he crossed the dirt to approach at an angle, using the bodies of the horses as cover. By the time the lookout turned back around, he’d gained the position he wanted.

  The next time the kid’s head turned, Colin stood, raised his pistol, and brought it down butt-first on the back of the young man’s skull. He crumpled to the dirt.

  The horses skittered sideways, their reins released. Colin slapped the rump of the closest one as he dove toward a barrel. Only when he crouched behind it in relative safety did he dare to look. All five horses were trotting away.

  Now to wait for the others to leave the bank.

  Rebecca rounded the corner in time to see Colin disappear down a narrow alley beside a restaurant. He’d told her to stay out of the fight and looked as though he intended to try to restore order. But then he’d gone without doing anything at all.

  Unlike the street she’d just left, this one was deserted. No doubt everyone had run to join the fracas. The sounds of the crowd were audible from here, one street away. Shouts and shrieks and the shattering of glass.

  Peaceful? A bitter taste invaded her mouth. Never had she seen such violence, and the sight sickened her. Worse, the whole mess was her fault. If only she could learn her Papa’s ways. What had made her speak up about the judge’s still? So much for Mrs. Diggs’ grand plans.

  And so much for mine.

  Sorrow threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of Jesse lying drunk in front of the hotel. The harsh truth stung like a slap across the face. Her dreams for their simple life together lay in ashes. He was not the man she remembered. He may never have been the man she thought him to be.

  As she reached the restaurant, five riderless horses emerged from the alley down which Colin had disappeared. They slowed when they encountered her, and she stepped back as the nearest one tossed its mane. One saddled horse with no rider trotting through town was unusual enough, but five? Then the horse spied the water trough beside her and walked toward it, the others following.

  Rebecca looked down the alley but saw no sign of Colin. Where had he gone? She slipped past the drinking horses and made her way down the side of the building. When she reached the back, she sucked in a breath. A man lay face-down on the ground. Was he hurt? She started toward him at a run.

  Before she’d taken two steps, a movement to her left drew her attention. Colin popped up from behind a barrel. With urgent gestures, he waved her back. Rebecca stopped, confused. Then she saw the gun in his hand. Moving quickly, she backed up and pressed her spine against the side of the building.

  The sight of Rebecca running out from the alley sent a bolt of fear through Colin’s core. What was she doing here? That woman had a knack for walking into trouble wherever she went. Jumping to his feet, he waved her back, trying to convey the danger without making a sound that would alert the men in the bank. He must have succeeded, for she dashed back in the direction she’d come. A frantic prayer formed in his mind.

  Get her to safety.

  No sooner had her yellow skirts disappeared from view than the sound of boots pounding on floorboards alerted him to the bank robbers’ approach. He whirled in that direction, his gun arm swinging in front of him. The first two ran out with drawn weapons, each clutching a bulging canvas bag. Colin gave them no time to react to the absence of their horses but took quick aim. The blast of gunshots ricocheted off the buildings as both men fell, one with a wound in his shoulder, the other in his thigh. The second man toppled to the ground, revealing the third outlaw in the doorway. Colin squeezed off another quick round, and the bullet took him in the knee. Cries of pain and anger filled the air. Satisfied with his aim, Colin lowered his gun. Enough to put them out of commission but not to kill them.

  At the very moment he realized that only three outlaws had left the bank, he heard a sound from behind that chilled the blood in his veins.

  The click of a gun’s hammer being cocked.

  “I think you’ve done enough damage with that gun for one day, Sheriff. Toss it away.”

  Colin did as directed. The pistol landed with a quiet thud in the dirt. With both hands raised over his head, palms splayed, he turned slowly to face his attacker and looked into the grinning face of Cleon Benton.

  Rebecca smothered a cry with her hands when the gunshots rang out. Colin! Her heart thundered as a third blast followed the first two. She shoved her fist in her mouth and bit down to keep from screaming. If anything happened to him, her heart would tear right in half.

  A man spoke. Not Colin. She couldn’t make out the words, but the voice was low and gruff. With fear pounding in her temples, she inched down the wall until she was at ground level. On her hands and knees, she edged toward the corner and then, moving with excruciating slowness, tilted her head and peeked around the building.

  Colin stood with his hands in the air, a gun barrel pointed at his head. The man holding the gun was the same man she’d seen on the train two weeks ago. The outlaw Cleon Benton. He laughed, and the evil sound sent chills racing across her skin. Slowly she backed away.

  Panic battered at her thoughts and snatched the breath from her lungs. In another minute Benton might shoot Colin.

  I have to do something. I have no weapon.

  A frantic laugh threatened to burst out. She, an Amish woman, wishing for a weapon? Bishop Miller would be horrified.

  Then a truth hit her. She would deal with Bishop Miller later. The man she loved—yes, loved—was about to be killed, and she couldn’t stand by and watch, no matter what the Amish Confession of Faith said.

  Wait. Had she seen a coil of rope dangling from the saddle of one of those horses? Could it possibly be a cowboy’s lariat? Reckless, probably useless, but she grasped onto the idea.

  Crawling on her hands and knees until she was sure no sound of movement could be heard, she headed for the front of the building. Two of the horses had disappeared, but the other three drank noisily from the trough. A coiled rope dangled from a loop on the saddle of the animal nearest her.

  Please. Please.

  She couldn’t spend time thinking of the right words to pray, so she sent a frantic plea heavenward as she grabbed the horse’s reins with one hand and the rope with the other. She nearly sobbed with relief when she spied the small, reinforced loop amid the coils. It was a lariat.

  Thank You. Thank You!

  Her fingers fumbled with the loop that held the lariat on the saddle, and precious seconds were lost. Then the clasp popped open and she threw the coiled rope over her arm. She dashed down the alley toward the back of the building. This lariat felt heavier than she remembered. Or had she learned to throw a lighter one?

  When she neared the corner, she uncoiled a good length of rope from her arm. Mouth completely dry, she formed the loop the way she remembered. But what if her memory was faulty? It had been years since she handled a lariat.

  Benton’s voice came from behind the building. When
Colin answered, the sound of his voice fell on her ears as softly as a caress. Determination flooded through her. She could do it. She had to.

  Her fingers grasped the stiff part of the rope, and she spaced her feet at shoulder length. Raising her arm, she began to whirl the lariat above her head. At first the loop failed to open, and she bit back a sob. To fail meant Colin would die. With a desperate effort, she spun faster.

  The loop opened into a circle. A cry of triumph almost escaped her lips, but she managed to remain silent as she poured even more strength into her arm and concentrated on keeping her wrist loose.

  When the noose whirling above her head was the proper size, it was time to throw. Nerves clenched her belly like a fist. How could she lasso a target she could not see? She’d be throwing blind. Tears threatened to blur her vision, but she blinked them back. Every second held the threat that she would hear another gunshot. Relying on the memory of her brief glance around the corner, she tried to picture exactly where Cleon Benton and Colin stood.

  Please let this work, Lord.

  Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, she stepped out from behind the building. The tempo of her arm did not change in the slightest and her gaze fell unerringly on her target. The outlaw’s head snapped toward her, and his gun began to swing her way. With a quick step forward, she snapped her wrist and released the lariat.

  The loop sailed through the air, losing its circular shape as it flew.

  I failed.

  It landed poorly. It fell not over Benton’s head, as she’d intended, but on his outstretched hand. With a scream that was part triumph, part terror, she grabbed the rope and jerked.

  The gun flew out of his hand and landed a few feet away.

  At that moment, Colin acted. He lowered his head and charged toward the outlaw, bellowing like a bull. His skull connected with Benton’s midsection, and in the next moment they were both on the ground. She watched as Colin scrambled off of the gasping man and dove for the gun. He rolled and grabbed it in a single motion, ending on his feet.

  “Don’t move, Benton, or I’ll shoot you where you lay.”

  Benton froze in the act of trying to struggle to his knees.

  Colin glanced at her, admiration shining in his eyes. Stunned, she looked down at the slack rope in her hand.

  Then a wide grin took possession of her lips.

  “I told you I could lasso.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Colin led Benton around the side of the bank, his arms secured behind him with a piece of the rope Rebecca had used to capture him. She walked beside the sheriff with a pleased swing in her step. He didn’t blame her one bit. In fact, he was so proud of her he could bust.

  As they emerged onto Massachusetts Street, he realized he could no longer hear the ruckus of the crowd. Hadn’t, in fact, for some minutes. He pointed his prisoner toward the jail, and when they turned, he caught sight of the aftermath of the fight.

  Many of the women had disappeared, no doubt returned to their homes. Men lay sprawled in the road or slumped against buildings, some of them nursing black eyes or bleeding noses. Annie Diggs stood near the feed store with a dozen or so of the faithful clustered around her. A similar group of men had gathered around Ed near the entrance to the saloon, casting surreptitious glances across the street. On the step in front of Mrs. Evans’ shop, Amos and Sassy sat side by side amid a mess of shattered glass. Across the street Judge Tankersley appeared to be pleading with his wife, whose stubborn expression did not bode well for his cause.

  When Colin, Rebecca, and Benton came into view, every eye turned their way.

  Mrs. Evans broke the tableau by running toward them, her skirts swishing through the dirt.

  “Rebecca, thank the Lord you’re okay. We heard shots, and when I couldn’t find you I feared the worst.” She gathered Rebecca into a fierce embrace.

  Colin raised his voice and addressed the bedraggled watchers. “Somebody go after Doc Sorensen. Some injured outlaws are tied up out back of the bank.”

  A young woman dashed off in the direction of the doctor’s house, and the mayor broke away from the crowd near the saloon to stride toward him.

  “The bank, you say?”

  “That’s right, but don’t worry. They didn’t make off with a cent. The bank manager is putting the money back in the vault right now.” Colin grinned at Rebecca. “And this little lady apprehended the ringleader.” He gave Benton’s arm a shake.

  Disbelief stole over Bowerstock’s face. “Her?”

  Rebecca lowered her head modestly, but not before Colin glimpsed a proud twinkle in her eye.

  At the sound of hoofs, the mayor turned. Colin looked up to see a horse trotting down the street toward them from the direction of the bridge. A huge man sat astride the animal’s back, at least as tall as Ed and with shoulders that rivaled Will the blacksmith. Colin’s grip on his prisoner’s arm tightened, and he exchanged a worried glance with Rebecca. Could this be yet another outlaw, riding to the aid of the bank robbers?

  The man rode down the center of the street, his head turning this way and that as he passed through the wreckage. His gaze fell on Colin, and he guided the horse toward him.

  “Sure, and there’s a story to be told here,” he said as he dismounted.

  His eyes roved over Benton, brows arching when he saw the man’s hands roped together. Then he spied Colin’s badge and removed his hat to reveal a thatch of fiery red hair.

  “You’d be Sheriff Maddox?”

  With that lilting Irish brogue, this could only be one person. Colin blew a relieved sigh. “Patrick Mulhaney. We were afraid you’d changed your mind.”

  “Nay, laddie. I but stepped off the train for a bite. When next I looked, the thing was gone, so I had to hire a horse.” He slapped the animal’s neck affectionately. “A fine beast she is. Carried me here in no more’n a blink.”

  Bowerstock sprang forward, hand extended. “J.D. Bowerstock. As mayor of this fair town, let me welcome you to Lawrence.” He raised his voice and shouted to the onlookers. “Our new sheriff has arrived!”

  As the men of the town council hurried forward, Colin snatched the tin star off of his vest with his free hand. He shoved it toward Bowerstock.

  “Swear him in, Mayor. He has work to do.”

  With a glance at Judge Tankersley, who nodded, the mayor took the badge and stepped in front of the big man. “Patrick Mulhaney, do you swear to uphold the law and defend the peace of Lawrence?”

  Mulhaney raised a hand. “Aye. I’ll be doing my best for ye.”

  His chest swelled when Bowerstock pinned the star on his shirt.

  “Congratulations, Sheriff.” Colin shoved Benton forward. “Here’s your first prisoner, and there are more where he came from. This is Cleon Benton, a cold-blooded killer and thief with a price on his head.” He smiled proudly at Rebecca. “And this lady right here earned the reward.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Reward?”

  “That’s right,” Colin told her. “Five hundred dollars, dead or alive.”

  “Oh, my,” murmured Mrs. Evans. She hugged Rebecca. “Well done, child.”

  Colin thought watching the shock on Rebecca’s face fade into a huge grin was almost worth having a gun pointed at his face.

  Annie Diggs marched toward them, her entourage in tow. She fixed a disapproving stare on the new sheriff.

  “We’ve heard of you,” she told him with a sniff. “A brawler and a drunkard. Know that the women of Lawrence will continue to work to rid our town of the devil’s drink.”

  The ladies gathered behind her responded with polite applause.

  “’Tis true, what ye’ve heard, ma’am.” Mulhaney ducked his head like a chastised child. “I’m not proud of it. But that was before.” He looked up straight into her eyes. “A changed man, that’s what I am. Nary a drop in six months, and I’ve sworn to live sober for the rest of me days. That’s why I’ve moved to Kansas, where liquor is outlawed.”

  “What?” Judge Tanker
sley pushed to the front of the group. “Are you saying you’re a teetotaler just like Maddox?” He turned a glare toward the mayor. “Bowerstock, you lied to us!”

  Colin enjoyed watching the mayor sputter.

  Mulhaney turned to him. “Maddox, if ye’ll be so kind as to point me toward the jail, I’ve a deposit to make.” He closed a ham-sized hand around Benton’s arm.

  “Right this way, Sheriff.”

  He turned to offer his arm to Rebecca, to escort her to the jail where she could watch her prisoner being locked away. But the place where she had stood beside Mrs. Evans was empty. He turned in a circle, searching for her yellow dress. When he spotted her, his heart sank toward his boots.

  She was heading for the Eldridge Hotel, where a lone man sat with his head in his hands on a bench beside the door.

  A weight pressed against his chest, so heavy it was hard to catch his breath. As he watched her go to the man who could only be Jesse, he feared he might have gained his freedom, but at what price?

  The desk clerk inside the hotel gave Rebecca a mug of hot coffee. She carried it outside to Jesse. He took it in shaky hands and sipped the steaming liquid.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled without meeting her eyes.

  She sank onto the bench beside him, words whirling in her mind. Her speech, rehearsed so often in the past weeks, would not come to her lips. Her dreams were dull and hollow now, like the eyes of the man sitting beside her.

  Coffee spilled out of the mug and fell on the ground. Compassion stirred inside her at the sight of his trembling hands. This was a mere shadow of the man she had known and loved.

  “Jesse,” she began.

  At the same time he said, “Rebecca.” They both stopped and flashed an awkward smile at each other.