Undaunted Spirit

by Jane Peart

  She never knew how long she sat there when the door opened with its usual creak and she heard his voice: “Penny for your thoughts, lady.”

  She blinked and jumped. Wade! He walked in with his assured saunter, clean-shaven, immaculately groomed, perfectly at ease. “What’s the matter?” he teased. “Cat got your tongue?”

  He seemed on top of the world, his pockets full of cash. Other people’s money. He had on a brand new broadcloth coat, a crisp ruffled shirt, gold cufflinks glinted as he pulled up a chair and sat down with languid grace. “And have you been slaving here all weekend, my darling?” he asked her. “You look quite weary. You shouldn’t work so hard. Not good for you. Unless—is there some big story breaking?”

  “As a matter of fact there just may be,” she replied with stiff lips, thinking, How can he be so calm, so nonchalant?

  “Oh?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Why don’t you tell me, Wade? Or is it Cary or Warren?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it all out like that, it just happened. Something flickered in his eyes regarding her. There was a moment of absolute silence. Then he said slowly, “How did you find out?”

  So he wasn’t going to deny it. He wouldn’t even try to pretend indignation or declare he was being falsely accused. Mindy was taken aback. She did not know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this casual agreement.

  She took the poster from the bottom of the pile she had stuffed in the drawer of the desk and held it up to him.

  “Not a very good likeness. I’m surprised you recognized it,” he commented dryly.

  “I’ve studied your face a good deal,” she said quietly. Now, it was out in the open. Nothing held back but the truth all these months.

  “So you have. And I yours. I love you, Mindy. Don’t forget that.”

  “Then why this? Why all the lies . . . how can I believe anything when you never told me the truth about yourself.” “The reasons I never told you should be obvious.” He flung out both hands. “What you saw was what you got. What you imagined was your own.”

  “But—”

  “No, Mindy, you pride yourself on being honest, and a good reporter, as well.” His mouth twisted sardonically. “Did you ask me any questions about my life, my past? You believed what you wanted to believe.”

  “But what about your mine, your partner?”

  “All true. It just doesn’t happen to pay as well as . . . shall we say, some other of my enterprises.”

  She gazed at him aghast. Didn’t his conscience bother him? “But I loved you.” Even to herself, her voice sounded whining and she hated it.

  “And this makes you not love me?”

  “I have to respect the person I love. How can I respect a thief?” The words came out bitterly.

  “‘Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.’ You’ve heard that, haven’t you? Love means loving that person no matter what. Not respect, nor the so-called virtues. Love is love, a blind, irrational emotion.” He got slowly to his feet. “If you love me, Mindy, you’ll accept who I am, not what you want me to be.”

  She shook her head, “I can’t. I can’t love someone who defies the very things I honor most.”

  “I can’t be all that. It’s up to you, Mindy.” He paused, “Does Taylor know?”

  “No, not yet. He just brought in this batch of posters, asked me to print how ever many I had room for.”

  Wade’s eyebrows went up, “And did you?”

  “Not yet—”

  “Well, now you know. What are you going to do?”

  She drew a long breath. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to turn yourself in, Wade.”

  “You trust me to do that?”

  “I want to, I hope so. I don’t want to be totally wrong about you.”

  Wade smiled or at least the corners of his mouth lifted. But there was no humor in the smile, no tenderness in his eyes as he regarded her.

  “It’s a gambler’s world, Mindy. The luck of the draw. We happened to be in the same town, at the same time, one of those strange chances in life. Everyone has to play the hand they’re dealt. You, yours; me, mine.”

  Words rushed into Mindy’s mind to say—pleas, bargains. But she knew they were futile. Wherever Wade had learned his code of ethics, they were a far cry from hers. The values she held he considered unimportant. He made his own rules. And they broke all hers.

  She thought love could change him. She had been wrong. Something stronger than her love led him to whatever uncertain destiny was his. What that might be made her afraid for him.

  “You’re quite a woman, Mindy. In a way, I wish I deserved you.”

  There was such finality in the way he spoke, Mindy knew what he planned to do. She had promised to give him twenty-four hours to give himself up. He would use those hours to save himself. In the twenty-four hours reprieve she had given him, he would be far away from Coarse Gold. This was the end.

  She swung her chair around and stood. Wade rose too. He took a tentative step toward her to take her into his arms and kiss her for one last time. Then he halted. His gaze swept over her as if he were memorizing her. Then he put on his hat and walked to the door. He stopped there, turned, tipped his hat, and then went out.

  The sound of the door clicking shut moved her to action. As she ran after him, his name caught in her throat. She reached the door, flung it open, and stood there looking out into the street. She stood motionless, watching him swing gracefully onto his horse, then without turning to look back, he rode down Main Street. At the corner, he broke into a canter and disappeared in the early morning mist.

  She fought a terrible sense of desolation and loss. However, Mindy realized she had had no other choice.

  She gathered up the batch of posters and walked over to Taylor’s office. He looked up in surprise at her entrance, pushed back his chair and stood up.

  “Why, Miss Mindy, this is an unexpected pleasure.”

  “It’s no pleasure, Taylor, and no social visit, I’m afraid.” She put the posters face down on his desk. “I don’t know if you had a chance to go through these before you brought them over to the paper, but I think you best do it now. Carefully.”

  Taylor glanced at her hard. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? You look—” With one hand he shoved one of the chairs toward her. “Please, sit down.”

  She shook her head. “No thank you, Taylor. I can’t. I’ve had a shock that’s all. I just need a little time to get over it.” She turned and walked back over to the door. “I didn’t print any of these in this week’s edition. What goes into the newspaper is the editor’s personal decision. But you have a job to do. I understand that.” Her throat was tightening up as she spoke. She knew she had to get out of here before she broke down.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Mindy.” Taylor said not knowing why he was offering her sympathy or what for.

  Mindy simply nodded and went out the door. Blinded by tears she somehow made her way down the street to Mrs. Busby’s. All she could think of was to escape from this nightmare of broken dreams.

  Chapter 26

  For Mindy, the next few weeks dragged by in a kind of monotonous grayness. The paper got out, but sometimes she did not even remember how. She was aware that the brassy heat of late summer had come and gone, merging into the mellow coolness of autumn. She drove herself relentlessly, going into the newspaper office early and staying late. She wanted to be so tired at the end of the day that she could not think; she just wanted to fall into bed, hoping for the oblivion of sleep.

  She thought she had made progress from the heartbreaking discovery of Wade’s identity. How close to the surface all her emotions were she did not realize until late one sultry afternoon Taylor walked into the office. His clothes were dusty and Mindy belatedly remembered he had been gone out of town for a few days. By the look of him he had come straight from the saddle to the newspaper. He looked uncomfortable, and a tingle of alarm went all through Mindy. Somehow she knew Taylor had some bad news to tell her. Withou
t bothering to greet him she asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s about Wade Carrigan,” he said, approaching her desk. He took off his sweat stained hat and thrust a hand through his uncombed hair. I thought you’d want to know. We’ve brought him in, my deputy’s just locked him up in our jail.”

  “How did it . . . where did you . . . ?” Mindy’s lips were stiff as she tried to form the words.

  “On a hunch, actually. We wuz ridin’ back from Silver Creek, and we decided to branch off up the canyon, and we come on the place where he and his gang stashed their loot. It was in an old silver mine.” He paused, twisting his hat. “You know how he used to talk about him and his partner having a mine . . . well that was it. Only it weren’t silver they had there, it was gold bars, twenty dollar gold pieces, you name it, they had it. They run a pretty successful operation. We surprised ’em, don’t know what they wuz plannin’, but we caught ’em red-handed, so to speak.”

  “Now what?”

  “Well, we’ve got to notify the marshal over to Boulder. He’s wanted in three states ’sides Colorado.”

  “Anyone hurt? I mean was there shooting?”

  “Nah, not so you could speak of. We snuck up on ’em. They was all asleep. We spooked their horses a little, but even that didn’t wake them all the way. There was the three of us and two of them. It were pretty easy.”

  “So, they’ll stay here until . . .”

  “We’ll have to escort them over to Boulder where they’ll stand trial, make sure they don’t get away. They’re a slick bunch, all right.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I just thought I ought tell you myself.”

  Mindy knew Taylor had some idea how strong her feelings were for Wade. It had stung him that she had chosen Wade over him. Now, he seemed uncomfortable at the way things had turned out, as if she might hold it against him that he had been the one to bring Wade in. Mindy hastened to reassure him.

  “Good work, Sheriff.”

  Taylor shook his head, “Durndest thing, not that I ever knew him all that well. But he appeared to be a sure enough nice fella. Polite for all that. But you know, Mindy . . .” Taylor squinted his eyes as if reliving the scene. “That time over at Silver Creek when I hit that robber running out of the bank in the leg and one of his partners turned his gun on me, I thought, I could have been mistook, but, even then the thought come to me there was something familiar about him. His face was shaded by his hat brim but there was something, I dunno what, the set of his shoulders when he turned in his saddle—something made me think I’d seen him somewheres before.” Taylor rubbed his wrist reflectively. “I know he was a durn good shot.”

  Mindy made no comment. What could she say? Now that it was all out. Wade, who had eluded capture for years, arrested by Taylor and locked in the Coarse Gold jail. It was when all these facts hit that Mindy’s blood began to stir, setting in motion the possibility that had not occurred to her at first. Her pulse began to race.

  “Can I see him?”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “You mean visit him? In the jail?” “Taylor, this is a big story. It will put Coarse Gold and its sheriff on the map.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d like to get his story for the Gazette. I want an interview. Wade’s wanted in three states. Papers in all three will fight for this story. I want to get it first. Eastern papers go wild over true-life western stories—shootouts, stage coach robberies, outlaws, brave lawmen.”

  Taylor was hesitant. He shifted uneasily. “I don’t know, Mindy.”

  Mindy stood up, buttoned her jacket, put on her bonnet, and picked up her notebook and two sharpened pencils.

  “This will surely be picked up by newspapers in Sacramento, San Francisco—you’ll be a hero, Taylor. It’s important that we get the facts right. I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

  “Well, all right, but you’re not going in the cell. Outside only, and my deputy sitting there with his shotgun while you do the interview.” He paused. “What if Wade won’t talk, don’t want to be interviewed?”

  “Oh, I think he will,” Mindy said and walked to the door. Her back straight, shoulders back, her notebook clutched tightly, Mindy gave all the appearance of outward calm. Inside, her stomach churned to see Wade in such circumstances. She had to look composed, not show a trace of emotion. This was a big story. A one-on-one, face-to-face interview with a notorious bank robber.

  Taylor gave the order to his deputy to unlock the door to the prisoners’ cells. The young man glanced at Mindy openmouthed, then back at Taylor again for confirmation. Taylor nodded, and he took out a ring of keys and opened the door leading to the jail section back of the sheriff’s office.

  Mindy took a deep breath and started through. Behind her she heard the sound of the deputy’s boots loud on the bare floor, the spurs jangling, as he followed her.

  As she entered the area with four cramped barred cells, Wade looked up from where he was half-lounging on a narrow cot. When he saw her, his expression was unreadable. Surprise, puzzlement, shame? Mindy thought she saw all three pass over his unshaven face. Then he smiled that old familiar smile that used to rock her heart and slowly rose to his feet, tucking in the tails of his rumpled shirt.

  Several days stubble of beard was dark on his lean-jawed face. She had never seen Wade less than perfectly groomed. Now he looked disheveled, haggard.

  “Well, if it isn’t the editor of the Roaring River Gazette. Such an unexpected pleasure. What brings you here?” There was amusement and curiosity in his glance.

  “I’m here to get your story.”

  “I thought you might be on a mission of mercy. Sent by the Ladies Benevolent Society to minister to the wretched prisoner.”

  “No. You’re page-one material.”

  “Ah, so that’s it.”

  The deputy pushed a straight chair forward, in front of the cell, and Mindy sat down. Wade took a few steps forward, placed both hands on the bars, and leaned against them.

  Mindy avoided looking at him directly. Her fingers gripped the pencil poised over her notebook.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Well what do you want to know?”

  She wanted to know so much. Everything. How it had all come down to this. The where, when, how, and why. Mostly the Why. All the other questions flew out of her mind and she blurted out. “Why?”

  “Why?” He repeated. “Why I chose a life of crime? Why not a banker but a bank robber?” His tone was sarcastic. “You want to know why. Maybe because I like taking risks, the gamble, the challenge to get away with it. Play the game and not get caught. Outrun the posse. Make a laughing stock of the law. Out smart them all.”

  “But you’re capable of so much more—”

  “How do you know that?” His mouth twisted sardonically. “You really don’t know much about me.”

  “Then tell me so I can understand.”

  He hesitated, then, “Shall we begin at the beginning? When I was a skinny little kid? I had an older brother—my father’s favorite. Brad could do no wrong. He was killed in an accident. Fording a river that was actually too deep to risk it, but he always went for the toughest things. It was swollen by floods, but he took the chance he could make it. His horse stumbled and fell. Brad’s foot was caught in the stirrup, the horse rolled over on him, and he was drowned. It nearly killed my father, too. He never got over Brad’s dying. He turned on everything. Me included. He’d say, ‘Be a man, like your brother.’ To me, at ten years old. In his view, the way to prove you were a man was never to turn down a dare, do the reckless, most dangerous thing. Hah, I grew up under that taunt. When the war broke out, to show my father, I enlisted. I was only fifteen. I lied about my age to get in the army. The first of many lies.” Wade shook his head. “When Lee surrendered, my captain wouldn’t and made us swear we’d never accept defeat or amnesty. So we formed a renegade group, and we came west.”

  “And when you came west?”

  “We broke up in
to small groups,” he shrugged. “That’s how it really began. The war had robbed me of everything. Our farm was burned by bushwhackers, my mother died, then my father and I had nothing to go back to. I had to make my own life. Be a man. The only way I knew to do that—well, was do things I thought my father would admire.”

  “Then you have no remorse?” Wade gave Mindy a long look. “None for all the people you hurt, the money that didn’t belong to you, for all the lies you told? The silver you were supposed to have?”

  “The mine was a front. So I could have somewhat of a normal life between—” His lips parted in a half-grin. “—between jobs.”

  She wrote a big question mark so hard the pencil post snapped.

  “As for the lies, sure, there were plenty of those, my whole life was a lie, I made it up as I went along.” Wade leaned forward, lowering his voice, “The only time I didn’t lie, Mindy, was when I told you I loved you.”

  Iwon’t listen to any more, Mindy told herself, and stood up. “Is there anything else you want to add to the account?”

  “I’m sure you can fill in the blanks. I’ll give you your headline. ‘Unrepentant, unreconstructed Rebel squanders life, lives high on the hog on stolen money.’” Wade gave a harsh laugh. “You’re a good writer, Mindy, I can count on you to write a whoppin’ good story. Sell a lot of newspapers.”

  Disconcerted, Mindy pushed back the chair. The deputy behind her stood up. “Then, I guess that’s all unless . . . shall we say you have no regrets?”

  “A final word, Mindy, I do have a regret, my only regret. But then you probably know what that is.”

  Back at her desk, Mindy was trembling. But she was satisfied that she had lived up to her highest standards of professional behavior. She had not allowed her personal feelings to prevent her getting an important story. Byron would have been proud of her. “To thine own self be true.” She reread the few notes she had taken. While Wade was talking, she sometimes pretended to be writing but was actually too moved by what he was saying to put it down. What he had told her she would never forget. If only he had told her some of this sooner . . . maybe she could have helped him, maybe things could have been different.