by Janis Jakes
Caldwell’s posse.
Billie had to hide. But where?
With trembling fingers and her heart racing, Billie guided the horse toward scrawny bushes near a boulder. It wasn’t much concealment, but it was all she had.
How had they found her? Amongst the tangled mesquite and cacti they’d managed to track her from so many days ago?
Had Luke sent them to capture her and maybe get his hands on some of the reward? That thought did not stay. He would not put his sister and nephew in such danger.
Abigail held onto the porch railing, about to collapse.
What have I done? What have I brought upon this family? Billie wanted to scream. With rattled nerves and trembling flesh, she eased the horse deeper into the brush, peering out through a web of barren branches.
If the men shot Abigail, she couldn’t live with herself. But how could she stop anything without putting Henry, Jr. in danger? Anguish filled her soul and tears seared her eyes.
Lord, help me…I don’t know what to do.
Minutes passed, but she didn’t dare move into the clearing. With so little cover, she would be easy to spot. Instead, she waited—speaking fervent prayers and ignoring the faint beads of sweat that trickled down her spine.
After a good hour, Billie led her horse out into the open, trusting the men had gone. They’d never ridden past her, but that wasn’t a good sign.
No one stood outside. Hopefully, Abigail rested comfortably on the bed, and Caldwell’s men had left for good. If they’d done anything to her friend, her heart would break into a million pieces. She didn’t want to imagine—
Billie’s heels nudged the horse’s flanks, urging the mare toward the cabin with a slow trot. What if they’d taken Abigail? Or, what if she rode into an ambush? The posse would kill her with little concern for the babe in her arms.
Billie eased off the horse. Henry remained on her shoulder. She drew the bucket of milk from the saddle horn and retrieved the plant the widow sent to help Abigail. With cautious footsteps, she made her way inside the darkened cabin.
Abigail lay on the mattress.
Relief swept over Billie. Was her friend breathing? “Abigail,” she whispered.
Nothing.
Billie placed Henry, Jr., in his cradle then hurried to her friend. A firm nudge didn’t move the sick woman. “Abigail.” Billie touched her forehead. Abigail was burning hot. But at least she was alive.
Billie moved to the stove, taking out a piece of the bark. She dipped water from the bucket at the side of the stove and heated it to boiling. Dropping the bark in the water, she waited as it turned dark and simmered. She strained the liquid as the widow instructed and then added a pinch of honey.
Billie sat beside Abigail on the mattress. “You have to sit up. You can’t die on me. Little Henry needs his momma.”
At the mention of Henry’s name, Abigail’s eyes half-opened.
Billie lifted her head and helped her sip the bark tea. Abigail resisted, but Billie was patient. “You have to drink it.”
Abigail drank slow but finally pushed the almost empty cup away.
“I saw you talking to Caldwell’s men,” Billie said.
“Monsters.”
“What did they say?”
“They knew Luke brought you here.”
“How could they possibly—"
“I don’t know. I’m guessing they tracked you here.” She opened her eyes, frowning. “I told them you had doubled-back and headed toward—“ Her mouth parted and she sucked in a deep breath of air before continuing. “Toward Mexico. The man who did the talking said they’d come back and skin me alive if I’d lied.”
Billie’s insides tightened into a hard ball. “Luke said I’d be safe here, but now you’re in danger, too.”
“I’m a good shot. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Not if you can’t lift your head.
Billie reached out, touching Abigail’s forehead again. A slight sweat covered the woman’s face. The fever was breaking. Billie took the damp rag and wet it once again with cold water, pressing it against her friend’s temples then laying it across her forehead. “I think you’ll make it after all.”
“Because of you,” Abigail said with a faint smile. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I was alone.”
“You’d have gotten on a horse or walked if you had to, but you’d have made it to the widow’s place. You wouldn’t have let yourself die. You’d have done something—for Henry, Jr’s. sake.”
She grinned. “Yeah. I would’ve.” She moved a thick lock of hair away from her face. “In that way, maybe we’re not so different.”
“Not so different at all.”
Abigail’s hand rose then fell across the top of Billie’s hand in a feather-like touch. “Want to tell me what happened? Why those men are after you?’
She hesitated.
“Seeing as how they threatened me with an unthinkable death, I think I should know.”
If anyone deserved to know the truth, it was Abigail.
7
The town of Justice City was small—not nearly as alive as El Paso, but a decent size for a West Texas community. Luke reasoned it was due to the train depot on the edge of town, which was always good for business.
As he’d passed a rock schoolhouse, he figured that was where Billie had taught children up until a few weeks ago. It looked deserted now with the windows and door boarded up. There was something sad about the building, a desolation that he knew only recently claimed the structure.
In an odd way, the sight reminded him of her. He pictured her alive and vibrant as she once stood in front of the classroom and taught children their letters, but now, her very soul lay hidden behind a barricade of despair. There was no getting in without a heap of trouble and determination—neither of which he wanted to give.
There were only a couple of streets in Justice City, and he stayed on the main one, guiding his horse past buggies, pedestrians, and places of commerce. He spotted the bank—only feet away from the sheriff’s office.
So, that was the crime scene…
Part of him wanted to go inside, but he sensed that wasn’t the brightest idea. Maybe another time.
With a click of his tongue and the press of his boot heels, he guided the horse to the general store. He looped the reins over the hitching post then walked inside with a shuffle of boots and a casual demeanor.
A man stood behind the counter, staring at a ledger. A woman straightened several bolts of cloth that had fallen over on a nearby table. Both wore white aprons with the words Harris Family General Store embroidered in dark green letters.
There were only a couple of shoppers inside, milling about the food supplies. He pretended to be interested in a few items as he waited for the shoppers to pay for their goods and leave. If he’d learned anything while bounty hunting, it was that folks in the general store and the local diner heard all the town gossip. He made sure one of those places was his first stop in any town when looking for an outlaw.
“Good afternoon.” Luke tipped his hat at the man behind the counter. “I’m Luke Lancaster. Are you the owner?”
The man offered up a friendly smile. “Hello, Mr. Lancaster. And yes, welcome to our store. My name is Drake Harris, and this is my wife, Molly. You must be new in town.”
“Just passing through.”
He closed the ledger, setting it aside. “How may we help you today?”
“I’d heard a rumor about your schoolteacher.” Luke dove right into the middle of the mess. He’d also learned over his years as a bounty hunter that such an abrupt approach caught people off guard and often uncovered more truth than two hours of friendly chatter. “Something to do with thieving and murdering. Thought you might fill me in on the details.”
The man’s face flushed. “Why do you want to know?”
“I work for the Littleton and Clark Detective Agency. We’ve been hired by the Justice City Bank’s insurance company to recover the outlaw
and, hopefully, the stolen property. The bank has submitted a rather large claim and, as you might imagine, the insurance company isn’t ready to pay until there’s some form of resolution. That’s why I’m here.”
“That’s all well and good.” The man lifted his chin. “But I can’t help you.”
Luke shifted his stare toward Molly, who quickly turned away, eyeing the cloth as if she’d never seen taffeta before. A faint pink hue colored her cheeks. He could tell by the set of her jaw and trembling of her fingers that she had something to say and wanted to say it.
“The poster says dead or alive,” Luke continued. “What’d a woman do to deserve death? Has she had a fair trial?”
“No.” Beads of sweat dotted the store owner’s forehead. “And she won’t.” He grabbed a duster behind the counter and began whipping it across the wooden top. “You best get on down the road, mister. For your own safety.”
“I intend to get to the truth,” Luke stated with finality.
“That’s not likely,” the man countered.
Luke frowned.
Drake’s eyes darted to the door then back again. “Clovis Caldwell’s posse is looking for her, too. If they find her first—“ The man stopped speaking, pressing his lips together.
Luke wasn’t ready to quit poking around. “I understand she murdered a local man?”
“Billie Jo wouldn’t hurt an ant!” The woman snapped, drawing their attention.
“Molly!” Drake pleaded, fear in his eyes. He turned toward Luke. “Mister, I need you to get outta here. You’ll not cause me any trouble. I won’t have it.”
Molly whirled about, her petticoat slapping against her ankles as she headed toward the rear of the building, mumbling under her breath.
Luke nodded. He’d done enough damage here. Besides, he’d found out two important facts: the town’s people were afraid to talk, and not everyone believed Billie was guilty. “Sorry to bother you,” Luke said, turning to walk out the door. A noise came from the alley a few feet away. Instinctively, his hand lifted to his holstered gun.
“Pssst!” The sound came again.
Molly stuck her head out from behind a rear wall just enough to catch his attention and then disappeared.
His heart raced. He tried to appear nonchalant as he strode around the side of the building, but every fiber in his body crawled with danger.
“Did anyone see you?” she asked with a whisper, her face pale.
He gave a quick glance over his shoulder. “No. I don’t think so.”
Molly reached up, digging her fingers into his arm with a vicious grip that accented the depth of her fear. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? When Clovis finds out you’re snooping around, you’ll be murdered, just like Malcolm.”
“Malcolm?”
“The bank clerk who got shot in the head. Billie worked part-time, after school, for the bank. She and Malcolm worked together in the back room. Only most folks don’t think it happened like Clovis says. Billie is my friend. She’d never shoot anyone, and certainly not over gold. I’ve known her my whole life.” Her head snapped back and forth as she glanced about the alley. “People think Malcolm found out that Clovis was stealing from his own customers a little at a time so no one would notice, and Malcolm told Billie.”
“If that’s what people think, why hasn’t anyone come forward and said so?” Restraint had returned and a certain calmness that defied the heightened situation. That’s what made him good at his job. He was able to get himself under control quicker than most—even in dire circumstances. “Why hasn’t anyone told Sheriff McGregor or someone else in law enforcement about their suspicions?”
“Clovis owns Sheriff McGregor.” Dampness filled her eyes. “Don’t tell a soul we talked, or I’ll end up in the bottom of a well with a cracked skull.” Once more, her gaze darted from one end of the alley to the other. “Drake will come looking for me any second. I’ve got to get back inside. If you’re here to help Billie, I’m glad, but be careful. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“I can take care of myself,” he said with quiet confidence.
“Maybe you can and maybe you just think you can,” Molly said. “But at least I’ll know I tried to warn you. That’s all I can do…”
~*~
“So, you and Malcolm were friends.” Abigail held Henry in her arms, giving him a drink of the goat’s milk. Though her face still appeared ashen, at least her fever was at bay, and she’d had plenty of water—easing the dizzy spells.
Melancholy swept through Billie for the kind, older gentleman who never wavered in his faith, despite a blow that would cause other believers to crumble. She missed their talks on the Scriptures and how joy would shine in his eyes when he mentioned his wife of twenty years.
“Malcolm lost his entire family in a flood less than a year earlier,” Billie said. “He took a job at the bank—more as a way to occupy his mind than the pay. He’d reconcile the day’s accounts, and I worked at the bank after school. I’d file the paperwork. Over time, we naturally got to know one another. Then when Malcolm noticed several past deposits had been altered, he knew someone was stealing from the miners. No one had access to the vault except Malcolm and Clovis. Malcolm and I went together and told Sheriff McGregor, who said he would come by to see for himself.”
“Who then showed up with Caldwell?”
“Yes. Intent on killing us both and making Sheriff McGregor out to be the hero for catching two gold thieves. But I messed up their plans. Somehow, by a miracle, McGregor stumbled over Malcolm’s foot and shot a hole through the ceiling. But I got away.”
“And now, they need you dead to protect themselves,” Abigail said, sitting in the rocker and placing Henry on her shoulder. The baby whimpered a couple of times before drawing up his legs and growing quiet.
“I’m the only one alive who knows their secret.”
“As much as I hate to say it, maybe you should go to Arkansas. Any place, really. As long as they can’t find you.”
“I’m amazed I’m still alive,” Billie said. “Every day I think this is my last day, but somehow, I’m still here.”
Abigail began to pat the baby on the back, anxiety hovering over her gaze like a dark storm cloud. “Does Luke know any of this?”
Billie fumbled with the sleeve of her dress. An awkwardness settled between her and Abigail. She moved her hand to her stomach. Why did the mere mention of the man’s name cause her insides to quiver? “No. Luke only knows Caldwell’s posse is trying to kill me and anyone else who gets in their way.” She paused, giving Abigail a hard stare. “You’re not safe with me here. No one is safe with me around.”
“I already got a taste of that. I’d love for you to stay and help me with Henry and the farm. But for your own sake, you need to go. It’ll be best for you.”
And for us. Abigail would never say the words, but she had a baby to consider and harboring a wanted criminal was a good way to bring trouble no one in their right mind would want.
Billie focused out the window and the dusty earth on the other side of the pane. “I’ll leave soon. When I know you’re able to take care of yourself and little Henry.”
“I think you’d be smart to wait for Luke and let him go with you,” Abigail said, surprising Billie with the thought. “He’ll get you where you’re going in one piece.”
The thought only made her more annoyed and more determined not to wait, even though her heart whispered something else. “Who knows when Luke might return, or if he will. I can’t make my plans around him.”
Abigail bowed her head then looked back up with a faint smile. “When the time is right, I trust you’ll do the right thing.”
Guilt slid over Billie’s shoulders like a cold wind. She needed to get away from Texas as soon as she could. Waiting on Luke to wander back when it suited him was not part of her plans.
She’d miss Abigail’s friendship and baby Henry’s sweet face. But for today, she’d enjoy their company, keep doctoring h
er friend, and feeding the little man. Unless Luke happened to show up in the next few days, she’d seen the last of him.
8
“Sheriff McGregor?” Luke’s form filled the doorway to the sheriff’s office, blocking most of the sun except for what seeped in around his muscular frame.
“Maybe...” A man stood near the stove, pouring a cup of coffee. “Who’s asking?”
The man was not at all what Luke expected from a sheriff. There wasn’t anything intimidating or authoritative about the man’s presence. He was pale in complexion with sandy-brown hair, a recessed chin, and hazel eyes that somehow felt mocking. He was small in stature with a gun holster that draped loose across thin, almost boyish hips. A blade of wheat or barley rolled about his lips, his tongue moving it about his mouth with ease.
But looks could deceive. Luke had not stayed alive this long by lowering his guard. “Luke Lancaster with Littleton and Clark Detective Agency from El Paso, Texas. I’m a recovery specialist, hired on behalf of Justice City Bank by their insurance company.”
“And?” The man stirred a spoon full of sugar about his cup with a steady hand. The man obviously wasn’t surprised to hear his name.
“And, I’m looking to find out who stole the gold from the bank’s vault. Are you the sheriff?”
“Yep, and you’re a little behind. I already gave the thief’s name and description to your agency.”
Luke intended to play it cool but not for long. “I think there may be some confusion over who actually took the gold and killed the bank clerk.” He dipped his chin downward and raised a brow. “Maybe if we shared notes…”
If what Molly said was true, Sheriff McGregor knew that Clovis Caldwell meant to kill him. And right now, they were playing chess, though neither knew the other person’s next move.
McGregor plopped down in a chair, pointing Luke toward the empty chair opposite him. Not once did his gaze leave Luke. A table rested between them, probably where he ate his meals and shuffled papers.
A separate room jutted off the main room, showing a portion of a large jail cell. It looked as if it had been added on rather than being part of the original structure. “Any prisoners back there?”