The Right Wife

by Beverly Barton

  “My God,” Aaron groaned when he saw Maggie on her knees in the dirt at Peterson’s feet. With a few stray tendrils curling about her pale face, Maggie’s wildly disheveled hair hung about her shoulders.

  “Stay calm,” Thayer said, placing a restraining hand on his big friend’s arm. “We can’t help her if we lose our heads.”

  Wesley’s voice shrilled hysterically. “You have sinned against God and man, harlot. Repent of your sins before you go to meet your Maker.”

  “He’s going to kill her,” Aaron said, his green eyes never leaving Maggie’s huddled form. “He’s holding a rifle in his hand. I’ll go out where he can see me and distract him from Maggie while you circle behind him.”

  “My God, Aaron, be careful,” Thayer told his friend as he turned to follow instructions.

  The blond giant took several steps out into the clearing, deliberately making as much noise as he possibly could.

  “If anyone has sinned and should die, it’s me.” When Aaron spoke, Maggie jerked her head around, her eyes locking with his, relief and fear combined in her gaze.

  “Stone!” Wesley said, turning the rifle toward the intruder.

  “Maggie is innocent of any wrong. I’m the one who led her astray. God knows that if anyone should be punished, it should be me.”

  “No!” The sound of Maggie’s frightened voice gained the reverend’s attention.

  Aaron continued to move forward, inch by inch edging closer to the maniac with the gun. “You’re a man of God, Reverend, you can’t take a life.”

  “It is within my rights to do God’s will. He speaks to me in all things. I take life only by His instructions.” Wesley turned away from the kneeling woman, walking toward the big man. “This woman was to have been my wife, but she gave her innocence to you and then became the paid whore of Thayer Coleman. I offered her forgiveness and a chance for redemption, but she refused me. For these sins, she must die.”

  “You’re wrong.” Aaron was almost within touching distance of his objective. “I’m the only man Maggie has ever known. She loves me, and I love her. She could never have been the right wife for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have come after her, Stone. Now, I’ll have to kill you, too.”

  Just as Wesley aimed his rifle at Aaron’s chest, Thayer came up from behind him, grabbing him quickly. Unbalanced from the attack, Wesley staggered, and fell forward, managing to land on his knees. Still holding the rifle, he aimed it at Thayer and pulled the trigger. The dark, young man swayed as he grabbed his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers.

  Aaron rushed to Maggie, but was thwarted by the reverend’s unexpected action. He grabbed Maggie while they were both on their knees, slowly easing himself and his captive upward, accidentally dropping his weapon in the process.

  “Let her go.” Aaron held a revolver in his big hand.

  “I can break her neck before you can kill me,” Wesley warned. “I’ll make a deal with you, Stone. Maggie and I will get in my buggy, and then I’ll throw her into your arms before I ride away.”

  Aaron lowered the gun. “Go ahead.” Somehow he could manage to catch her. All that mattered was to get her away from that man.

  “Throw down the gun,” Wesley said.

  When Aaron obeyed, the reverend dragged Maggie with him up into the carryall, his rifle still on the ground where he had dropped it when he had made a hasty reach for his cousin.

  “Let her go, Peterson.” Aaron ran forward, grabbing the side of the buggy. Maggie turned just as Wesley snatched the reins. “Let her go, or you’re a dead man!”

  Wesley’s hideous laughter struck Aaron’s nerve endings like a thousand pinpricks. “Jump, Maggie,” he yelled when the horse began to move.

  He couldn’t understand why she was hesitating. Didn’t she realize what she had to do to escape? Even if she hit the ground with a few broken bones, it was preferable to dying. He held his arms out to her, hoping he could catch her. Just as the buggy picked up speed, Aaron began running faster. When she jumped, his strong arms went around her, catching her against his chest, but the impact of her body sent them both falling backward, Maggie landing in a sprawl on top of her rescuer.

  He ran his hands over her face, her hair, and her shoulders. “Are you all right, love?”

  “Yes,” she cried, tears clogging her throat. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine now that you’re safe.”

  He pushed her up enough where he could sit, pulling her up to her feet when he stood, his arms holding her close.

  “Peterson’s getting away,” Thayer said as he walked over to where his friends were standing, locked in a possessive embrace.

  “How bad are you hurt?” Aaron asked, noticing the bloodstains covering the other man’s shirtsleeve.

  “Damn fool just grazed my shoulder. No telling where the bullet went. I can make it back to White Orchard on horseback. Let’s get out of here. We can get the marshal tomorrow. I don’t think Peterson’s going anywhere. He’ll probably go home to his mother, thinking he’s safe and sound. He’s just that crazy.” Thayer placed his hand on Maggie’s back just above where one of Aaron’s clutched her tightly.

  “Yes, please, let’s go back to White Orchard,” Maggie said.

  “Maggie, I want you to go with Thayer. You two take care of each other,” Aaron told them. “I’m going after the good reverend. I’ll either see him in jail or dead by nightfall.”

  “No, Aaron. Please don’t go,” she pleaded, embracing him fiercely.

  Pushing her out of his arms, he held her by the shoulders. “You and Thayer get on his horse and go straight back to Phineas’s place. I’ll be back tonight when I’ve finished with Peterson.”

  He shoved her toward his friend. “Get her out of here.”

  “Are you sure?” Thayer asked.

  Aaron didn’t answer. He didn’t look back as he walked to his horse, mounted, and rode away. Maggie, standing at Thayer’s side, called after him begging him to be careful.

  She wanted to run after the man she loved, to plead with him not to go, but she knew it would be useless. Aaron had made up his mind to put an end to the nightmare that Wesley Peterson had created for them. She prayed that he could take her uncle’s stepson to the sheriff. If Wesley resisted, she knew that Aaron would kill him.

  “Maggie?”

  “I’ll be ready to go in just a minute.” She stood there in the middle of Memphis Pike, the soft glow of sunset warming the evening sky. The wind blew chillingly, making her realize that she no longer had her shawl. She undoubtedly had lost it somewhere. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stared off into the distance watching the last traces of dust from Aaron’s departure swirl into the air and disappear.

  Chapter 18

  Maggie sat at the kitchen window gazing out into the darkness, the faint moonlight spreading across the yard and endless fields. The only sign of life came from the wind’s movement and the faraway sounds of woodland creatures. It had turned cooler during the night, so she and Auntie Gem had kept a fire going in the cook-stove, thus warming the house and providing hot coffee for those who could not sleep. She had downed so much of the strong brew that she doubted even some of the laudanum they had given Daisy and Eunice would make her rest.

  In less than an hour, it would be daybreak, and Aaron still had not returned. She tried not to think that the worst had happened, but every horror her overactive imagination could conceive replayed itself again and again in her mind. Had Aaron found Wesley and killed him? Or even worse, had the reverend killed Aaron?

  And what about Phineas? As soon as she and Thayer had returned, Daisy’s husband had saddled his horse, and, without a word, rode away. When Daisy had called for him later, Maggie had been forced to lie to keep her friend from worrying. She was sure that Phineas had gone to help Aaron.

  Auntie Gem had taken over like a little general, issuing orders and daring anyone to defy her. She was the one who had made the decision to doctor both Daisy’s and E
unice’s coffee with medication.

  “Ain’t no reason for Daisy to fret about Phineas when there ain’t nothing she can do,” the old woman had said. “And that Miz Arnold is so wrought up, we either going to have to put her to sleep or hog-tie her and gag her.”

  That had been hours ago, and now she and Thayer sat alone in the kitchen while Auntie Gem dozed in a chair by Daisy’s bed. She had talked to Thayer for a long time, reliving every detail of her time alone with the mad reverend. Although he shared her concern for Aaron, he assured her that Phineas had joined him, and together they were taking Wesley to the marshal.

  “As part of a hooded gang, Peterson might have been exempt from the law, but not as a private citizen. You and Eunice, and Aaron and I can all testify against him.”

  She dreaded the thought of going to court, of having the whole town exposed to the ugly truth, and having their personal lives become public knowledge. Poor Aunt Tilly. Even she didn’t deserve that kind of pain and humiliation.

  Maggie closed her eyes for just a moment, but opened them again quickly when visions of Moses’s bloody body flashed through her mind. She could see the young, black man clearly, his lifeless body resting in the dirt, a dead horse sprawled across his legs. Her face felt hot and flushed and her pulse raced with remembered fear.

  She couldn’t stop the gasping sound that came from her mouth or the fresh tears flooding her eyes. She would not allow herself to fall apart. Now when she didn’t know if Aaron were alive or dead. She could hold on just a little longer. She knew she could.

  “Maggie?” Thayer roused from his sleepy silence. Sensing her frantic state of mind, he pulled his chair closer and put an arm around her quivering shoulders. “He’s all right. You can’t even begin to understand the kind of man Aaron is. And if Phineas is with him . . .”

  “You’re trying to tell me that they’ll kill Wesley, aren’t you?”

  “Not necessarily.” Thayer tried to avoid looking at this all-too-knowing woman. “It’s just that Aaron has been exposed to a side of life that most people haven’t. Phineas came from that background. There are places in this world where a man has to kill first and ask questions later.”

  “Aaron wouldn’t kill in cold blood,” Maggie argued. “I won’t believe he’s capable of such a thing.”

  “Would you love him any less if he were?”

  “Would he be any different from Wesley then?” She cried, burying her face in her hands, hot tears soaking her flesh.

  “Listen to yourself.” He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Aaron will give Wesley a chance, but if he resists, Aaron will not let him go free to harm you or anyone else again. Maggie, I’d do the same. Do you hear me? I’d kill to protect the woman I love.”

  She stared into the man’s ebony eyes, mesmerizing and intense. “Phineas?”

  “Phineas will kill Peterson if he finds him first.”

  She could not sit another minute. She had to get up and move around before she went insane. Maybe another cup of coffee would help.

  “You want another cup?” she asked Thayer while she poured herself more, her hands shaking so badly that the cup almost slipped from her fingers.

  “None for me.”

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? Just because I’m not able to rest doesn’t mean you have to stay up with me.”

  “All right, Maggie,” Thayer agreed. “I’ll rest my head here on the table for a while. If you need me, I’ll be here.”

  She could see the first faint light of dawn when she gazed out the window again. The dark sky shimmered with the glow of predawn awaiting the birth of another day. Shoving back the curtains, she opened the window slightly. The sounds from the river drifted into the room. The smell of fresh country air blended with aromas of wood smoke and strong coffee.

  Because of the darkness, she heard the two riders coming up the lane before she saw them. They were Aaron and Phineas. She pulled down the window, her unsteady fingers clutching at the red gingham curtains.

  “Thayer!”

  “I hear them. Is it Aaron and Phineas?” he asked, his dark eyes meeting hers when he stood.

  “Yes, it’s them,” she cried, rushing to open the door.

  The two men were just dismounting when Maggie and Thayer walked onto the front porch. Aaron looked up, his face haggard and weary. Phineas led both horses toward the barn. He never once looked at the house nor spoke a word to the two people anxiously waiting.

  Maggie ran down the steps and threw herself into Aaron’s arms. He pulled her close, his big arms binding her to the unyielding strength of his body. “Thank God. Thank God, you’re all right,” she sobbed, her small hands covering his face, stroking his rough cheeks.

  Aaron looked over her head to where his friend still stood on the porch. Had Thayer tried to prepare her for what was about to happen? He hoped beyond hope that she was capable of accepting a half-truth without asking too many questions. He would never tell a loving soul how Wesley Peterson had met his fate. Not even Maggie.

  Looking up into Aaron’s tired eyes, she asked, “Wesley?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “How?” A feeling of relief surged through her, and then guilt settled on her heart.

  “Phineas and I found him on the way into town. He was dead when we got to him. We took his body to the marshal,” Aaron said, reciting the exact story he had given the lawman.

  Maggie watched the expression on the big man’s face and noticed the exchange of guarded looks between him and Thayer. “How did he die?” she asked.

  “There wasn’t a mark on him,” Aaron told her, leading her up the steps and onto the porch. “The marshal seems to think his neck was broken. He could have fallen from his buggy.”

  “Is that what the marshal believes?” Thayer asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what he believes. What other explanation could there be? The reverend didn’t have an enemy in the world. It had to be an accident.”

  Maggie knew there was a lot more to what had happened than Aaron was telling, than he would ever tell. She doubted that he had killed Wesley himself. Perhaps he had watched while . . . Then again, maybe Wesley had already been dead when Aaron found him. Somehow it really didn’t matter anymore.

  Aaron held her close, wondering if what had happened would change the way she felt about him. Would she still love him suspecting that he could have prevented her cousin’s death? He had known that Phineas would come and find him when he’d sent Thayer and Maggie back to White Orchard. As much as he had hated the good reverend, he knew Phineas had hated him more. He probably could have taken Wesley in to the marshal alive, but so many people would have had to pay for that lunatic’s sins. He probably had had no right to play God, but sometimes a man has to do the wrong thing for the right reason.

  They were living in a time and place when a man like Wesley Peterson could get away with murder because no one would believe him capable of such a hideous act. But a man like himself was labeled illegitimate from birth and carried that brand for the rest of his life. A woman with Maggie’s background would probably always be snubbed by women like Eunice. And a man like Phineas could be hanged for the most minor of offenses, just as a woman like Daisy could be beaten and raped with no lawful reprisal. Aaron wondered in a world like this who could say what was right and what was wrong. A man did the best he could to take care of himself and the people he loved.

  Aaron noticed Auntie Gem standing in the doorway looking out toward the barn. “He’s putting up the horses.”

  “You both all right?” the old woman asked, a look of solemn knowledge crossing her aged face.

  Aaron simply nodded affirmatively, realizing that Auntie Gem understood the situation better than any of them did. She had worked for Mathilda Gower for many years.

  “Is Daisy still asleep?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes’am, her and Miz Arnold. I checked on them both before I came out here. That laudanum got them resting easy.”

  “W
e can go inside,” Aaron said. “Phineas will probably stay outside for a while.”

  Auntie Gem went inside first, the others following. The old woman poured a cup of hot coffee and handed it to Aaron. “You hold this while I fetch that bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet.”

  “Aaron, do Aunt Tilly and Uncle Chester know about Wesley?” Maggie asked as she sat down at the table between the two men and watched as Auntie Gem liberally laced Aaron’s coffee with ninety-proof liquor.

  “I don’t know. We left before the marshal went to tell them. It’ll be hard on Mrs. Gower, but she’s better off believing her son died accidentally falling from his buggy than ever knowing the whole truth about him.”

  “You’re right,” Maggie agreed. Wesley’s accidental death could protect a lot of people from some heartbreaking truths. It would destroy Aunt Tilly to know what a monster her son had been. She had always been so proud of him.

  “Does the marshal plan on having any kind of investigation?” Thayer questioned. “Wesley Peterson was greatly admired in Tuscumbia.”

  “The marshal seems to think that because he was so greatly revered by the townsfolk, no one would ever question that his death could have been anything other than an accident.”

  “Reverend Peterson is dead?” Eunice Arnold stood in the bedroom doorway, her usually perfectly coiffed hair untidily falling from its bun, her green woolen dress terribly wrinkled.

  “Land sakes, gal. I thought you was still asleep,” Auntie Gem said, moving quickly to help steady the staggering woman.

  Aaron got up and went to Eunice, helping Auntie Gem place her in a chair. “It’s all right, Eunice. Peterson met with an accident on his way back to Tuscumbia. You need to put what happened to you and Maggie yesterday out of your mind.”

  “He . . . he was crazy, wasn’t he?” Her brown eyes begged for confirmation as she stared up at Aaron.

  “Yes, he was totally insane. But there’s no need for us to burden his mother with that truth, is there?” He hoped he could persuade this self-centered woman to do something unselfish for once in her life.