Grace and the Guiltless

by Erin Johnson

  He lay still.

  Grace knelt to see if he was still breathing, and as she did, an eagle feather drifted from her headband and landed on the body. She reached down to retrieve it but stopped.

  Perhaps it was fitting to leave it there. Cheis had said the eagle feathers stood for honor — she was defending her family’s honor. She had six feathers: one for every member of the Guiltless Gang.

  Grace vowed to pursue justice until a feather rested on each of the gang’s lifeless bodies.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there before the sound of boots pounded down the alley.

  “I heard a shot. Is everyone all —” The man skidded to a stop at the entrance of the stable.

  Grace turned, gun still in hand, to see Reverend Byington.

  He stood at the end of the alley with shock in his eyes. “Are . . . are you all right, child?”

  Grace wasn’t sure. She couldn’t stop the tremors racking her body. “I — I killed him. I had to. He was going to —” She couldn’t finish.

  She wanted revenge, and she got it. But the sense of triumph she expected to feel was buried under the sickness of killing another human being.

  Another hand grabbed her shoulder. Grace jerked away and whirled, raising her gun again.

  Joe stared at her with shocked eyes. “What . . . what have you done?”

  CHAPTER 23

  Joe grabbed her arm and glanced around the alleyway. “Did anyone else see you?”

  Trembling from head to toe and sick to her stomach, Grace was too dazed to answer. She was sickened by what she did, but she also knew Slaughter deserved it. She had to save herself and the girl.

  But although she had killed in the battle, this was different . . . uglier somehow. Something had happened inside her soul.

  Wrapping an arm around her, Joe whisked Grace past the reverend, without a word, and around the corner into the back door of the Bird Cage.

  They almost bumped into the girl Grace had just saved; she stood huddled in the corner among the bags of stacked flour and supplies, shivering.

  “She —” the girl said to Joe, grasping Grace by the hand, “she saved me.”

  Joe studied her. “Do you work here?” he said urgently. “Can you help us? She needs to clean up before anyone discovers what she’s done.”

  He motioned to the blood on Grace’s hands and clothing. Grace hadn’t even noticed it was there, and she thought hazily that it must have been from when she bent down over Slaughter’s body.

  The girl’s voice was soft and shaky. “I just do the laundry for the Bird Cage.”

  Joe’s voice was desperate. “She has to get cleaned up.”

  “I’ll show her where the bath is.” She turned to Joe. “They don’t let men up there that haven’t . . . paid.”

  He nodded. “I’ll wait in the saloon. Just hurry.”

  The girl reached for Grace’s arm. Her callused palms were rough against Grace’s skin. “I think I can get you water too.” She peeked around the corner. “We just have to wait until Cora’s back is turned.” After a few moments, she said, “Quick now!” She dragged Grace toward a dark corner and a set of stairs, and they rushed past the rooms and entered a bathroom.

  “Close the door and lock it. I’ll stand guard out here.”

  A small, dirty mirror hung over the washstand in the corner. Grace stared at her reflection, still in a daze. Her face was almost as pale white as the china pitcher and bowl, except where it was smeared with Slaughter’s blood from her fingers. Her blue eyes looked as cold and hard as ice, and there was a strange new glitter in her eyes.

  Would she lose herself completely if she followed this path?

  Grace shook her head. She had begun her mission and wouldn’t be able to stop until justice had been handed out to every one of them, one way or another.

  Hurriedly, she used the water in the pitcher to wash her face and scrub at the blood on her shirt and pants.

  A commotion outside the door caused Grace’s hand to stop, mid-wipe.

  “Outta the way, girlie. I gotta get in there.”

  “No.” The girl’s voice squeaked. She obviously wasn’t used to standing up to people, and it showed in the tone of her voice.

  “What do you mean, no?” The blustery voice struck fear into Grace’s heart.

  That twang was unmistakable. Sheriff Behan. Grace’s hand stilled. She just killed one of his cronies and still had the bloodstains on her clothes. If he knew what she had done . . .

  Scuffling sounded outside the door. “Please, sir, someone’s in there. An important person. They need privacy.”

  The sheriff laughed. “Paid you well, did they, to guard the door?”

  The girl’s voice came stronger now. “I promised not to let anyone disturb ’em.”

  “Problem, Johnny?” A woman’s voice echoed down the hall.

  “Damned girl won’t let me in. Says there’s an important customer in there.”

  Lil’s light laugh drifted through the door and squeezed Grace’s gut. She glanced around. No place to hide unless she wedged herself behind the hip bath.

  But if Sheriff Behan opened that door, he would discover her in seconds. Her heart in her throat, she pressed her ear to the door.

  “Come on back to the room and get cleaned up,” Lil called.

  Grace took a breath as their footsteps receded down the hall.

  Then the footsteps stopped, and Lil’s voice came again. “But you, girl, what are you doing up here?”

  The girl stammered. “They stopped me downstairs and asked me to come up. I was only bringing the laundry, but they said I have to guard the door.”

  There was silence while Lil considered. “Make sure you give me half of what they give you.”

  “I — I will.” The nervousness in her voice made Grace’s heart ache.

  Grace hurried back to the pitcher and scrubbed at the last of the stains. How would she get out of here and downstairs without Sheriff Behan seeing her? She did her best to get the worst of it cleaned up, but all the dampness would be a dead giveaway.

  After she had smoothed her hair and washed her face, she peeked out the door. The palpable look of relief on the girl’s face made Grace feel guilty.

  “The sheriff,” Grace whispered. “Where did he go?”

  The girl pointed to a nearby room.

  “I don’t want him to know I was in here.”

  “Go quick then.” She stationed herself outside the room Sheriff Behan was in. “I’ll try to distract him if he comes out.”

  Grace nodded.

  Keeping one eye on the closed door, she hurried through the hall and down the back steps. With relief, she spotted Joe sitting in the back corner of the room, two glasses on the table in front of him.

  “Sheriff Behan’s upstairs.”

  Joe glanced toward the steps. “He doesn’t know about Slaughter yet. But it won’t be long. Might be best if he didn’t see you looking like that.”

  Grace nodded. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  Joe pushed one of the glasses toward her. “At least take a sip. It’ll calm your nerves.”

  “What is it?” Grace picked up the glass and sniffed. The fumes almost choked her.

  “Whiskey.”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t need calming. I just need to get out of here.”

  The mousy girl skulked down the steps. Seeing Grace, she rushed over. “If you want to avoid the sheriff, best go now.”

  “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  The girl clasped Grace’s hand in hers. “Thank you.”

  Grace suddenly thought of something. “Money. You’ll need some money for Lil up there, to make it convincing, what you said . . .”

  Unquestioningly, Joe took out the pouch of silver and handed the wash-girl tw
o nuggets. “One for you and one for Lil.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, that’s way too much.”

  “Then change it into cash, and pay her what she’ll think is fair.”

  The girl tried to hand one nugget back to Joe. “I can’t take this much.”

  Joe gave her a gentle push. “Best get back to work before you get in trouble.”

  The girl’s eyes shined. “With this much, I won’t need to go back to work for a long time.”

  Grace was stunned. Two nuggets of silver was a lot of money? And that woman at the bordello had taken the whole pouch. For one night’s stay. Grace gritted her teeth. Sometime she would go back and get her change. And how would she ever repay Joe for all the silver — and everything else — he’d given her? She knew she had to find a way to earn some money. But right now they needed to get away.

  “Let’s get out of here before Sheriff Behan finds out what happened,” Grace said. She glanced down at her clothes. “But I need to do something about my clothes. They’re still damp.” She looked up, and her eyes stopped on the whiskey glass. Hmm . . .

  She made a show of bumping into the table, so the glass of whiskey splashed her clothes. A small puddle ran into her lap and onto the floor. Grace stood and wiped at her clothes, and the barmaid soon spotted her. She strode over with two rags, practically threw one at Grace without saying a word, and then mopped the table and floor with the other.

  After the woman left, Joe glared at Grace. “What’d you do that for? Now you smell like whiskey. They’ll think you were too drunk to hold your glass upright.”

  “Better that than realizing what the stains really are,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Shock registered in Joe’s eyes at her ruthlessness. “You’ve changed, Grace. What has happened to you?”

  “I grew up.” She tried for bravado, but her memory of the alley and the sickness she’d felt returned. She pushed the thoughts away. “Let’s go.”

  Just as they reached the back exit, the front door burst open. The deputy, badge shining on the lapel of his black cutaway coat, stood spread-eagled in the doorway.

  “Someone shot Doc Slaughter in the back alley.”

  Gasps sounded around the room.

  The deputy’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “I’m here for the one who did it.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Grace started shaking hard. Joe grasped her elbow and pinched it tight. “Steady,” he whispered.

  She was done for. They would find her. Figure it out. If they fled out the back door, the deputy would know she was guilty. And if she had to run from the law, she would never catch the rest of the Guiltless Gang.

  “Brazen it out,” Joe whispered.

  All very well for him to say, but his finger wasn’t the one that had pulled the trigger.

  The deputy eyed each person in the room. One by one, they shook their heads. When his eyes rested on Grace, her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. But his eyes slid past, dismissing her. He narrowed in on Joe.

  “No witnesses to the deed far as I can tell. But a stable hand did mention someone with long hair and a black vest hustling in through the back door immediately afterward. Not saying that’s the person who did it, but I’d like to talk to him.”

  Grace clenched her hands into fists and willed her body to stop shaking. They couldn’t question Joe. Both of them had to get out of here before the sheriff discovered her or before people figured who really shot the man.

  Only Reverend Byington might know what happened. And he, being a man of the cloth, would never lie. She had to disappear before the deputy found out.

  “No one wants to claim the reward?” The deputy looked puzzled. “You kill one of the most wanted criminals in the country and won’t admit it?

  Grace’s eyes widened. A reward? Did that mean they wouldn’t arrest her?

  She glanced at Joe.

  “Reward?” one of the men at the bar bellowed. “There’s a reward? Oh, uh, in that case, I’ll own up. I shot him.” He stood and puffed out his chest. “Reginald Black here. Best bounty hunter east of the Rockies.”

  Another man elbowed Reginald out of the way. “When did it happen, Deputy?”

  “Best I can tell, a few minutes ago.”

  “Black here was sitting at the bar when I came in a few minutes ago. That reward money’s mine. I killed him.”

  Another cowboy muscled him out of the way. “You couldn’t shoot straight enough to nick the side of a barn. That reward done belongs to me.”

  “No, it don’t.”

  The young girl’s voice was shaky, but she spoke loudly enough to be heard over the excited buzz. “This here’s who killed Slaughter.” She pointed right at Grace.

  Everyone whipped around to stare, then loud guffaws filled the room.

  The deputy ignored her.

  “She did,” the girl insisted. “I swear it!”

  The shouting and jostling in the bar reached a fever pitch, with several other men trying to claim the reward, shoving each other out of the way to get the deputy’s attention.

  Grace stepped forward and stared down all the men. “That’s my money.” She deserved that reward, and she needed it. It would give her the funds to track down the rest of the Guiltless Gang and to pay Joe back. “I shot Slaughter.”

  Black laughed. “Go back home, little girl.”

  The wash-girl pointed to Grace and in a trembling but firm voice said, “This little girl saved my life. She shot that man in the alley.”

  The deputy shook his head, disbelieving.

  Joe stepped up. “I was a witness. That reward belongs to her.”

  The murmurs around the room grew more heated. The man at the bar glared daggers at Grace, then gave a disgusted glance at Joe.

  “Hope you ain’t gonna take the word of that dirty injun lover,” he said to the deputy. He stood and placed a hand on his holster. “Ain’t no way she could shoot nobody. Like to see her take me in a fast draw. She don’t even look like she can hold a gun steady!”

  “Care to see me try?” Grace said, her eyes narrowing.

  “Yeah . . .” He eyed the gun in her holster.

  “One, two, three,” he shouted and drew.

  But Grace’s gun was already in her hand.

  “Woo-wee,” one of the old-timers at the bar gloated. “You got outdrawn by a little girl.”

  “Lucky draw,” the man said through gritted teeth. “She probably don’t have any idea how to shoot that thing.”

  Before he could respond, Grace’s shot blasted across the bar. Her bullet dug into the wooden floor right in front of his feet, showering splinters over his boots.

  She blew the black smoke from the tip of her gun. “Next time I’ll aim higher.”

  “Hey! What’s going on down there?” Sheriff Behan’s voice cracked loudly from above. He leaned over the railing of one of the cages, his bolo tie askew. He ran a hand over his mussed hair.

  “Trying to find out who deserves the reward for killing Doc Slaughter,” the deputy informed him.

  “Someone killed Doc Slaughter?” the sheriff clutched at his throat. “When?” He looked sick.

  “Few minutes ago, out back in the alley.” The deputy shook his head. “We got at least three people who claim to have done it.” He motioned to the man at the bar. “Black, Tex, and —” He couldn’t keep the sneer from his face as he pointed at Grace. “That gal over there.”

  The anger pulsing from the sheriff’s eyes frightened Grace, but she gave him a defiant glare. “My bet’s on Tex,” the sheriff said, but anger mixed with fear made his voice shake. “But I don’t cotton to any shooting in this town —”

  The doors behind the deputy swung open. Everyone froze in place. Reverend Byington entered and looked startled at the scene.

  He spot
ted Grace and headed toward her. “Are you all right now, child?”

  Grace nodded, but she couldn’t shake the fear that had gripped her when the sheriff gazed at her knowingly. He would make her pay — that’s what his look said. Maybe she should let Tex claim the reward and hightail it out of here. She backed up a step.

  The reverend suddenly seemed to realize that no one in the room was moving. He glanced around. “What’s going on?”

  The deputy replied, “Trying to find out who shot Doc Slaughter in the back alley, but it seems we have some conflicting stories.”

  Reverend Byington opened his mouth, looked at Grace, and then closed it.

  “Well, maybe now that you’re here, Reverend, we might get some honest answers. Who wants to swear on the Good Book?” The deputy turned to Reverend Byington. “Somehow no one claimed responsibility for the killing until I mentioned the reward. Then they were all too happy to claim it.”

  “A reward?” Byington’s voice had a cautious edge to it.

  “Yep.” The deputy squared his shoulders and stood up straight. “I already sent a Pony Express rider to the governor, telling him we took down one of the most dangerous criminals in the country.”

  “So the person responsible would be a hero rather than a criminal?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Overhead, Sheriff Behan growled deep in his throat. Reverend Byington looked up. “Is that right, Sheriff?”

  Behan’s hands gripped the railing, and it was obvious he was forcing out words. “If the deputy alerted the governor, then yes, the shooter would be,” his throat clenched convulsively, “a hero.”

  “In that case,” Byington announced with a smile, “I would be glad to tell you the truth. I was an eyewitness.”

  Tex slumped onto his bar stool, muttering. Black’s face turned red, and he clamped his hat onto his head, hiding his face.

  The reverend gestured toward Grace. “That young lady shot him in self-defense.”

  Murmurs broke out around the room.

  “She’s only a girl.”

  “She couldn’ta done it. No way.”