by Lydia Olson
“That’s not what you told Miss Maudie last night,” Deputy Wilkens reminded her. “I think that you think you can pull a fast one on me – but you didn’t expect I’d talk to Miss Maudie about ya first! Yeah, I know you were fond of the feller, and I’d expect no less from ya.”
The morning had been one long run around with the deputy. Eloise didn’t expect, when she’d told Wilson she would act as a distraction, that Deputy Wilkens would make it so easy for her.
He often chose to ask all the wrong questions, and he acted like he was accusing everyone he talked to of wrongdoing. Some people he spoke with before he got to Eloise became rather defensive, being accused, which made the whole ordeal take even longer.
“I am fond of Wilson – he's one of my oldest friends – and that’s exactly why I know it wasn’t him running away from the stables,” Eloise assured him.
“But you thought it was him last night.” Deputy Wilkens put his arms behind his back and marched around Eloise. “The way I hear it, everyone did.”
“Everyone saw fancy clothes and assumed it was him. I only thought it was him because everyone else was saying it was, but when I ran to catch up with him, it wasn’t him,” she went on.
“Do you know where Mr. Pace is right now, Miss Hastings?” he said, leaning toward her face.
“N-no, sir,” she responded, leaning away.
“Ellie!” Dillion said, bursting through the door to the saloon. “Oh, Ellie – I've been worried sick! I came as soon as I could. Deputy... why are you holding my daughter like some barbarian?”
“Your daughter was first at the scene of a murder last night,” Deputy Wilkens explained matter-of-factly. “I hold all witnesses until I’ve got the full story out of ‘em, and your daughter’s been resisting sharing the facts. I suspect she’s harboring a fugitive, sir.”
“Watch your tongue, man,” Dillion growled. “Harboring a fugitive? And where do you imagine she’s keeping him if she’s been with Maudie all night – hasn't come home since the party?”
“Uh, sir,” Deputy Wilkens said. “You make a mighty fine point, sir, but I have reason to believe she knows the man what’s responsible for the crime. And she’s not telling me the full truth; I can feel it.”
“Well, I suggest you feel it from a distance, sir, until you have evidence,” Dillion informed him.
Wilkens puffed up his chest, causing his belly to cover his belt buckle. Dillion wasn’t amused. He’d had enough run-ins with men who acted tougher than they were to know the deputy didn’t feel as strong or confident as he acted. Beside this, Eloise was more important to Dillion than any risk he had to take, even standing up to the deputy.
“Well, now, I see where this girl gets her spark,” Miss Maudie said, appearing from the back room. “Given a moment more, I’m sure she would’ve been talking back just like you.”
“Oh, uh, Maudie.” Dillion rubbed the sweat from his palms off on his pants.
“Good to see you again,” she said, winking.
“And you,” he replied, looking a little flustered the closer she came to him.
“And you’ve got nothing to worry about on this end – I’ve been taking good care of your daughter,” she assured him. “I’m sure the deputy’s not gonna want her to leave until he’s done asking her questions, and if that takes another night, she’s welcome to stay with me again.”
“Right, right, and I think I’ll stay, too, if that’s the case – w-with the men, of course, not with... not with you,” he said. “Yes, not with the women... that would be inappropriate.”
Maudie bit her lip to keep from laughing and looked at Dillion from beneath her eyelashes. Despite her worry over Wilson, Eloise thought that she might laugh, as well. It was entertaining to see her father so flustered, and it was also refreshing to see him connect with someone new after being alone for so long. Maudie inched toward him, almost like she was teasing him, and Dillion shyly looked away.
“Well, I trust Eloise is in good hands, and she’ll be well taken care of under your watchful eye,” he said.
“She certainly will.” Maudie smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand.
Dillion looked at her from the corner of his eye and then looked away. With a sigh and a nod, he tipped his hat to her and left the saloon to complete his morning errands. As he left, Eloise noticed Lawson sitting at the end of the bar, watching Deputy Wilkens, who was awkwardly pacing around the saloon, looking for someone else to interview.
“He has no idea what he’s doing, does he?” Eloise wondered, approaching Lawson.
“No, he doesn’t,” he confirmed. “And that may look good for us, but it’s not. Imagine how little it’d take for someone to rough him up a bit? If he’s that nervous about hearing words from your father, imagine how nervous he could get around Earl or Vincent – and we both know how they feel about your friend, Wilson. It’d be right to the noose for him if it was up to them.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Eloise. “Now I’m worried, because, well... I know we just met yesterday but I’m trusting you with a whole lot if I tell you this, ya hear?”
“You’ve found him, haven’t you?” Lawson whispered. “Not to worry, I can keep a secret well.”
“Yes, and he’s injured,” she explained. “You see, it was the sheriff in the stables last night, and he came around back because he heard someone hit Wilson over the head. The man who hit him, well – he stole his clothes and ran off with them, and we think he shot the sheriff, too.”
“Ah,” said Lawson. “I must say, that increases my suspicions. Before, I thought it strange Mr. Pace would run from ya after shots were fired, after spending such a time with ya that evening. Now, to me it seems the culprit chose not to stop for fear you’d recognize he wasn’t who you thought he was.”
“That’s what I’d like to think,” she admitted. “Truth is, I don’t think anyone else will believe it. They’ll tell me he was lying to save face, but I saw the head injury, and there’s no way someone could be bleeding like that and not leave a trail of blood somewhere down the road.”
“You say head injury?” Lawson leapt to his feet.
“Yes... what is it?”
“Oh, after all this doubt – a lead!” he enthused. “If Mr. Pace had his head injured as you say, there’s a shot we find traces of it in that back alley – somewhere far from where the sheriff was shot, I hope! Head injuries often bleed profusely... Where exactly did he go after being hit?”
“Well, he was watching the sheriff from the shadows near the stables, and then the sheriff called to him and he didn’t wanna be seen, so I’m certain he ran through the back alley. Then, he said he went... well, let’s check the alley first, shall we?” she suggested.
“Certainly,” he agreed. “I haven’t been back to have a good look around since the sun come back up.”
Eloise followed Lawson out of the saloon, checking to be sure Deputy Wilkens wasn’t watching, and then went around back to the scene of the crime. With everything on the line, she couldn’t afford to be excited by the thrill of investigation in the same way Lawson was. Had it not been Wilson’s life on the line, she thought she might have enjoyed it.
“Ah, it’s as he said,” Lawson said, brushing the wall at the corner nearest the stables. “You see these dark, almost black droplets here? That’s dried blood – I'd recognize it anywhere.”
“That’s nowhere near where the body was found,” Eloise remarked. “But how do we know that’s Wilson’s, and not just some blood that dried there a long time ago?”
“See, that’s the thing – it's not completely dry,” he told her. “If you just touch it lightly, it’s got a little bit of form to it, almost sticky. In this heat, this blood can’t have been here longer than a full day or it’d have no form left to it at all.”
“We can’t know whose blood that is,” said Eloise. “Are you sure it’ll be enough?”
“It’s enough to make me believe his story – and it might be enough
to get Mr. Pace some more time to prove himself,” Lawson explained. “Deputy Wilkens may not be the best for the job, but I am – and soon enough he’ll know what happened here. Because I will.”
“But what do I do to help Wilson now?” Eloise worried. “He needs a proper place to sleep so that his head can heal, but he can’t stay in his room much longer with all that’s happening.”
“He’s an old worker for your father, is he not?” Lawson said.
“Yes... it’s just...” Eloise trailed off.
“Just what?” prompted Lawson. “Do you think your father won’t believe Mr. Pace is innocent? An old friend?”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “My father’s in town, and I’m sure he’ll be back to the saloon to check on me. He didn’t like the way Wilkens was questioning me earlier, so I’m sure he’ll want to stop by soon to be sure he hasn’t started something again.”
“Yes, talk with him,” Lawson said. “I can’t promise he’ll be happy to hear you’re concealing a wanted man, but if he’s anything like you, he’ll understand.”
“I suppose,” she allowed. “Well, I’d better get back to keep an eye on Deputy Wilkens. Wouldn’t want him to accidentally stumble upon Wilson while I’m away.”
Eloise walked past the stable and back to the saloon, leaving Lawson behind to continue his search for clues. As she suspected, Dillion had come back to check on her, and was sitting across from Miss Maudie at the bar. Eloise smiled. She must not have been the only person Dillion came back to check on.
“Ah, there you are,” he said. “I came back to check on you, and Maudie said you’d left in a hurry. Is everything all right, sweetheart?”
“Actually,” Eloise said, pulling her father away from prying eyes. “There’s something I need your help with.”
“What is it, darling?” he wondered.
“Wilson is in his room, and he’s wounded!” Eloise whispered.
“Ellie!” Dillion whispered loudly, looking around to check that no one else could hear. “You told Deputy Wilkens that you didn’t know where he was.”
“I know, but that's because Deputy Wilkens is trying to put Will away for something he didn’t do,” she said. “Whatever happened last night, it wasn’t him. He didn’t even talk to the sheriff, and he had his coat and hat stolen – and his gun! He said he got hit over the head with something in the alley, and he’s going to need clothes, a horse, and a bed to sleep in. Please help him, Daddy!”
“Ellie, you can’t just come to me and demand that I help a wanted man,” Dillion countered.
“He’s only wanted because he beat the sheriff in a poker game,” she explained. “Please, he’s not well – and it’s his life on the line. You know Wilson, and you know he wouldn’t do something like this. I don’t think he killed the sheriff, Daddy.”
“Then let Deputy Wilkens figure it out.”
“You think he’s gonna be able to figure that out?” Eloise rolled her eyes. “Please, Daddy, how long have you known Wilson, and how much has he done for us since he got back? He’s not a killer.”
“Oh.” Dillion sighed. “He has helped at the ranch quite a lot.”
“Yes, and for no cost to us. He came back to pay us back for everything we did for him when he was younger, not to kill the sheriff or anyone else in this town,” she assured him.
“Oh, all right.” Dillon sighed again. “I’ve brought Ryan to town with me. I’ll send him to arrange for a horse and some clothing.”
“Okay, but don’t tell him it’s for Wilson.”
“Right, right,” Dillion agreed, just above a whisper. “I’ll tell him only what I must.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dillion, Ryan, and Deputy Wilkens stood at the foot of the stairs, gazing up toward the rooms of the Saint George hotel.
Deputy Wilkens, desperate to appear confident, widened his stance until he looked as though he might fall over at the slightest touch. Dillion, on the other hand, looked worried. Eloise came out of the saloon and saw the men gathered at the foot of the stairs. Her heart sank. This couldn’t be what it looked like, she thought.
Her father wouldn’t do that.
“Daddy?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, uh, Ellie, my dear.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I must say, I thought about what you asked me, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I –”
“Wait, what is this – what's going on?” Eloise interrupted, wide-eyed.
“Ellie, you can’t keep hiding him like this,” Ryan said, walking over to put his hand on her shoulder. “He’s not the same harmless boy we remember – and this proves it. He’s not our Will anymore.”
“What do you know?” Eloise screamed, pushing his hand away. “I’ve talked to him far more than you have since he returned. Ten years since you’ve seen him, and you can’t seem to get past that he was always beating you at arguments when we were kids. Why can’t you see that he is still the same Will we remember, and he’s been accused of something horrible that he didn’t do?”
“But Ellie, the evidence is stacked against him,” Dillion said, concern in his eyes.
“What about the blood on the wall?” Eloise insisted. “Yeah, I went back into the alley after I cleaned a wound on his head, and I saw blood on the wall exactly where he said he was standing! The sheriff was still alive when Wilson left the alley – you have to believe me.”
“Things must’ve got a little rough and the sheriff hit the feller before the feller shot at him,” Deputy Wilkens rationalized. “No reason he couldn’t shoot straight with a little blood on his head.”
“How would you know? You haven’t even seen his injuries,” she pointed out. “And why would the sheriff hit him over the head when he has a perfectly functional pistol on his belt?”
“That is the question... that... is the question...” Deputy Wilkens said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.
Dillion rolled his eyes. Eloise could hardly think straight for how furious she was. Everything around her seemed to have a faint tinge of red.
“Daddy, I trusted you!” she yelled. “A man’s life is on the line, and I put it in your hands. How could you do something like this? He’s been nothing but kind to us since his return!”
“Oh, enough of this!” Dillion threw his hands in the air. “Deputy, if you would, please show my daughter what you showed me.”
Wilkens fumbled around through his pockets and pouches, trying to find whatever it was Dillion was talking about. By now, Eloise had noticed Lawson lurking in the shadows, silently watching. Finally, the deputy pulled a long, thin shard of what appeared to be gold from his pouch. The shard was sharp on one end, and on closer examination, it was clear it wasn’t real gold. Eloise gasped.
“Ah, so you do recognize it?” the deputy said.
“That’s – but that’s Wilson’s lucky charm,” Eloise said. “He found it in the dirt when we were fighting a fire ten years ago, and he convinced me it was the only thing that saved his life from the fire.”
“But you must know, now, he only made that up to stop you from crying?” Ryan said. “I can’t be certain why he kept this old thing with him all this time – maybe just because you gave it to him, or because it’s a useful weapon, but –”
“Oh, just stop!” Eloise interrupted. “He kept it because it’s his lucky charm. That’s all it is – a lucky charm! He gave it to me after a fire ten years ago because I was upset about a cow that died, and he wanted me to believe the rest of the cows would be safe as long as I had it.