Nathanial

by J. B. Richard

  CHAPTER 25

  Jesse tied his horse at the hitch rail, walked up the porch steps, then knocked. Mrs. Short opened the door. Of course, she didn’t smile.

  “I’d like to talk to Kristy. She home?”

  Mrs. Short glanced over her shoulder as if contemplating whether her daughter should be summoned or not. This was lighting a fuse in Jesse.

  “I’ll get her.” She shut the door.

  He was never not welcomed inside, even by her. Something had definitely changed where he was concerned. Surely, Pete had been wrong.

  For the second time, the door popped open.

  Kristy’s eyes instantly glistened. “Hello, Jesse.” She didn’t take a step toward him and had kept the screen door closed. The greeting was too formal, completely unlike her. She usually gave him a big hug and kiss if her ma wasn’t in sight.

  He pointed to the porch swing. “Can we talk?”

  She hesitated, then walked out and sat stiffly at one end of the swing. He wasn’t typically nervous around her, but he was sweating and his heart was pounding.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. With the sheriff down and Nate’s trial looming, I ain’t had any time for me, for us. It won’t always be that way.” He wanted her to understand that he hadn’t forgotten her. It wasn’t as though he was ignoring her on purpose. She had been there when the sheriff was gunned down. She should have realized Jesse’s responsibilities had grown a hundredfold.

  As she sat there staring at the pocket on her apron and the more he thought about it, it sort of irked him. It wasn’t like he was being selfish.

  “I’m not mad,” she finally said.

  The house door opened. “Kristy, I could use your help in the kitchen.” Mrs. Short didn’t even glance at Jesse, but certainly, he was the reason she was out there making her presence known.

  Kristy began to rise.

  Jesse caught her by the wrist, noticing for the first time his ring wasn’t on her finger. “Where’s your ring? I expect you to wear it. We’re engaged, and people should be aware.”

  “Take your hands off my daughter,” Mrs. Short boomed.

  “Stay out of this,” he bit back.

  She huffed inside, slamming the door.

  “I took it off. I was washing dishes,” Kristy said, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Well, you ain’t washin’ dishes now. So it should be on your finger.” He was fighting down his temper. “You got something you’d like to tell me? ‘Cause I heard a rumor.”

  She raised her head. “Jesse, I can smell beer on you. Let’s not discuss this now.” She pulled out of his grip, heading for the door.

  “Can’t a man have a drink? Or has your ma brainwashed ya into believin’ a man shouldn’t be allowed to wet his dry throat now and then or that it’s bad or will hurt you in some way?” Jesse was now talking about their relationship. That he wasn’t the one for Mrs. Short’s daughter.

  Shorty stormed out the door, his face red, the missus on his heels.

  Jesse ignored them for the moment, facing Kristy. “I spilled beer on my sleeve. That’s why you can smell it.”

  Shorty shoved himself between Jesse and his daughter. He pointed a finger in his face. “Git off my ranch.”

  The two women were huddled in the corner nearest the door.

  Jesse could almost hear the words I told you so rolling in the mind of the cattleman’s wife, and he was sure Kristy would hear just that once he left.

  “What did I do? At least tell me that.” He looked Shorty squarely in the face.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Shorty said. “I’m inclined to agree with my wife. I don’t want my daughter marryin’ a lawman. No one can stop talkin’ about Sheriff Crosson and poor Kate. I don’t want to see my daughter in those shoes.”

  “Kristy.” Jesse stared longingly at her. His heart was breaking. Him being a deputy and the risks that came with it weren’t a surprise to them. This was nothing new. All but the missus, they had accepted it before.

  “I could never dig a bullet out of you the same as I did Sheriff Crosson. I couldn’t let on then, but that about killed me. I’m not strong enough to be your wife.” She paused. “Only one other time have I been forced to treat a bullet wound, and that was when Tipsy, that outlaw, shot you and Ma and me patched you up.” She shook her head. “That ain’t the life I want.”

  He was stunned, struck utterly dumb. It was the opposite attitude shown by her just a week ago at the picnic. Her ma must have been working on her since returning, playing on those emotions Kristy was having after the whole ordeal of being kidnapped and seeing men shot and killed.

  “Daughter, go get the ring.” Mrs. Short gently nudged Kristy toward the door. She disappeared inside.

  “Happy with yourself?” He stared at Mrs. Short, who said nothing.

  He believed that some of what Kristy had said was her true feelings. As much as they loved one another, it might kill her to see him in the same shape the sheriff was in, but no one could see the future to know for sure that would ever happen to him. God willing, it wouldn’t.

  “Why don’t you let Kristy make her own decisions? She’s old enough. Instead, you baby her. She’s stronger than she thinks, but you’ll never let her believe that.” Jesse could feel heat rising in his face.

  Shorty shoved him toward the stairs. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  Jesse towered over Shorty. He’d always been respectful to Kristy’s folks, and he was trying his best to do that now and to understand their point of view, but he didn’t. They had insulted him and his badge, and dammit, he’d been pushed too far. He had saved their daughters, brought them home safe. Where was the thank-you? That wasn’t why he did it, but they should recognize what he and the sheriff and the marshal had done, the risk they had taken.

  It hit Jesse then. That was exactly what they did recognize. That it could have been him, not the sheriff. Or both of them. He could be dead. Even so, Jesse wasn’t about to let fear rule his life, and he was too riled not to put Shorty in his place.

  “Shorty, don’t ever make the mistake of thinkin’ I’m afraid of you or any other man. ‘Cause it just ain’t true. And if the sheriff dies, I’ll pin on that badge and keep things going just as he would have wanted, which includes protecting you and your family.”

  He turned and started down the steps toward his horse.

  “Jesse.” Kristy’s soft voice called him back. She hustled down the stairs, her palm out flat, arm extended toward him. The sun glistened off the opal. Her dark hair lifted from her shoulders in the breeze. He couldn’t help but think her beautiful, even if her eyes were red.

  “Don’t do this. Please.” A man would only beg for something he truly wanted, and he wasn’t above that.

  Tears streaked down her face. “I love you.” She took his hand, placing the ring gently in his fingers. Then she turned and raced into the house, her sobs echoing behind her.

  He blinked back the wetness in his eyes. One glance at Shorty and his gaze darted another direction. Silently, both he and the missus filed inside. Jesse was left standing with a ring in his hand. Freckles blew, maybe telling him it was time to go home.

  CHAPTER 26

  Two days after Jesse had told them that Kristy had broken the engagement, Nate crawled up onto the wagon seat and flopped down next to Ma. She clucked at the team and flicked the reins. It would soon be nine o’clock … more like the eleventh hour. Nate had wanted to stay home in the worst way for more than one reason. Pa’s fever had broken overnight.

  After breakfast, which Nate only picked at, he was allowed for the first time to see him. His time with Pa had been short, only a minute or two, but he surprised Nate with a weak grin and a few words of encouragement about today’s proceedings.

  The wagon bucked forward, then steadied into a roll. Jesse was riding the appaloosa next to the wagon. Overhead, the sky was a bright blue, the exact opposite of their moods. Nate grumpily tugged at his tie. This morning, it s
eemed to be choking him. He was having difficulty taking a deep breath. Why Ma was forcing him to wear his white church shirt to a court hearing that he didn’t want to go to anyway was beyond him. She was wearing her best skirt that allowed for her growing belly, and Jesse had polished his boots and donned a suit coat before leaving the house. It wasn’t going to be a party. Seemed dumb to dress up.

  The wagon turned onto the coach road. In a short two miles, they would have to walk up the steps of the schoolhouse, which was serving as a courtroom, and Nate would have to talk in front of what might be the whole town. His past wasn’t something to brag about, and most folks didn’t know all the details. That was the way he wanted it. He couldn’t have been sweating more.

  “Remember what your pa told ya this morning?” Jesse must have caught sight of Nate’s nervous wiggles.

  Nate grinned.

  In a hoarse whisper, Pa had said, “No matter the outcome, you are my son and always will be. Nothing can change that, so you hold your head up high.”

  Pa was right, but Nate was still scared. He wished Pa was well enough to come with them, but his health wasn’t anywhere close to even sitting up in bed. Doc had stayed behind with him.

  Nate touched the deputy’s star pinned on his shirt. It was like a piece of Pa was there with him.

  The wagon rattled over the wooden bridge and into the street. There were a lot of people standing in small groups outside the so-called courthouse. Some of those folks Nate didn’t recognize, hadn’t ever seen before. An anxious hum of voices buzzed through the air. Other folks who were along the street, making their way toward the courthouse, stopped and stared as the wagon passed by. Nate shrank into the seat, wishing he could disappear. His insides felt like mush, except his heart. It was pounding.

  Both Ma’s and Jesse’s spines straightened.

  Jesse gave him a quick flick on the nose. “Don’t fret, partner.” There was a fierceness about Jesse that made him think if anyone bothered him with even a simple matter, he might just tear that person apart limb by limb.

  Ma’s face was also stone sober. She didn’t glance one way or the other. Although, they were getting plenty of looks. She just steered the wagon straight, then reined in next to at least a dozen or more other wagons parked in the schoolyard.

  Nate took a deep breath and hopped down behind Ma where he wanted to stay hidden in the folds of her skirt, but he wasn’t a baby and wouldn’t act like one.

  He wasn’t sure his legs would hold up as the three of them, with him sandwiched in the middle, made the walk across that yard with more than a hundred eyes on them and then up the steps where other onlookers stood staring.

  Jesse led the way inside. The crowd, jammed into the not-so-big room, turned as a collective group when the three of them entered. Everyone hushed. One look at Jesse, and as if that packed house were one person, the lot of them stepped back, producing a wide aisleway. The parting of the Red Sea came to Nate’s mind. Maybe he, too, would escape, but he didn’t want to wander in the wilderness for forty years.

  Jesse pulled out a seat for Ma next to Mr. Graham and Judge Prescott who sat at a long table near the front of the room. Nate could be wrong, but Ma’s round belly appeared more pronounced today.

  Adjacent to them was a second long table. The Fletchers and their lawyer were huddled over papers and talking in hushed tones. The desk that Nate’s teacher used sat where it always did, only there wasn’t any documents or books sitting on it. There were a plaque and gavel.

  “Sit down, partner.” Jesse pulled out a seat for Nate, then sat himself.

  People began to talk again, but it just seemed like a lot of noise to Nate. Why did they all have to be there? None of this was their concern. But as he glanced around, he took notice of the people who did care about him. Shorty, the missus, Kristy, and the other kids were all there. Old man Pike stood in the back of the room at the door. Marshal Huckabee made his way in and sat directly behind them. He gave Nate’s shoulder a little squeeze. The Filson and Henderson families took up an entire bench seat. Even crusty Pete, the saloon owner, had slicked down his hair, and his shirt wasn’t wrinkled. Orris, Pete’s piano man, was sitting behind the barkeep. It appeared the whole town and then some had turned out for the trial.

  A man in a dark-gray suit and black tie walked in and straight down the row until he was behind the desk used by Nate’s teacher.

  “Order,” he hollered, and immediately, everyone shut up. He took his seat, straightening his clothes for a few seconds, then looked out over the room full of folks of varying size and backgrounds. “We all know why we’re here. Let’s get started.”

  He looked over at the Fletchers’ lawyer, a balding fella with big ears and nicks on his face where he’d cut himself shaving. The man wore a blue suit closely matching Mr. Fletcher’s. He didn’t look as scary as Nate had thought, but looks could be deceiving.

  “Mr. Thatcher, call your first witness.” Judge Parker relaxed back into his chair.

  The Fletchers’ lawyer turned stiffly toward the courtroom and announced, “Mrs. Walter Gill.”

  The thin woman stood from her seat. She wore new clothes, ones that fit, and her hair was combed and neatly pinned up. Not a speck of dirt smudged her cheeks like the other two times Nate had come face to face with her. Her pistol wasn’t strapped on her either. She didn’t look like her wild, rough-talking self at all.

  Nate glared at Mrs. Fletcher. This had to have been her doing, making that mean bitch presentable. When she walked past, he wanted nothing more than to spit on her. She sat down like a lady in a chair next to the judge’s desk. She must have really hated Pa to go to all that trouble.

  Mr. Thatcher picked up a tintype off the table where the Fletchers sat, then handed it to the thin woman. “Do you recognize either woman?”

  She nodded.

  “Please speak to the courtroom,” Thatcher said in a flat tone.

  “Yeah, I know them.” She kept her eyes on Thatcher, not once glancing at Nate. Perhaps she was feeling a pang of guilt, or it could have been Jesse’s cold stare keeping her from looking in that direction.

  Ma’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “What are their names?” Thatcher held up the photograph, showing it to everyone.

  “That one”—she pointed to the younger image of Mrs. Fletcher—“is Deloris Fletcher. Seated right over there.” The thin woman jerked her head toward the Fletchers. “The other one”—she pointed a second time at the photo—“is Lucinda Rineheart, Deloris’s sister.”

  The entire courtroom gasped. Ever since the Fletchers had come to town, rumors had been flying. Nate had overhead Jesse and the marshal bitching about it. Everyone was aware that this trial was for Nate’s custody. But until this moment, no one beyond those at the front tables knew the evidence stacked against him. And they had all just learned that he had a blood relation other than his outlaw father and his brothers who were all in prison. Lots of whispering ensued.

  “Order!” Judge Parker smacked down his gavel. Everyone quieted.

  “What is your relationship with the ladies in the photograph?” Thatcher theatrically straightened his tie and tugged on the cuff of each sleeve before he returned to his seat next to the Fletchers, whose faces glowed with satisfaction. This was their star witness. Their hopes of winning were wrapped up in her testimony.

  “Lucinda and I worked in the same cathouse.”

  There was an uneasy shift in the courtroom. The sound of clothing chaffing the bench seats seemed louder than normal.

  “We were the best of friends, more like sisters. We took care of one another. Even found ourselves pregnant at the same time.” The thin woman chuckled crudely.

  Ma’s face held a flush. Nate glanced around, noticing most all the other ladies in the room either wore the same red staining her cheeks or were fanning themselves to breathe.

  “Being as close as sisters, were you there the day Lucinda gave birth?” Thatcher asked as though it would be ridiculous to th
ink otherwise.

  “I delivered that boy.” She spat out the words. “Lucinda didn’t want him. Told me to go throw him in the river.”

  The courtroom erupted with loud murmurs.

  Nate jumped to his feet. “That ain’t true!” He wanted to scream that Lucinda had loved him.

  The judge banged his gavel for quiet. But then what Nate had thought really sank in. Lucinda. Not Ma or Mama. What little he remembered of Lucinda, he did recall that she insisted on him calling her by name. Why hadn’t the inclination been there in his mind to call her mother? That wasn’t hard to figure out. She’d never been a mother to him. All the times she had pushed him away rushed to mind, things he must have blocked out until now

  Ma sprang out of her seat as if she’d sat on a tack and pulled Nate close. Tears streamed down his face.

  The thin woman stared past ma, giving him a hard look. “You suckled from my tit the first few weeks of your life. I’d given birth a week earlier, so my milk was in. Lucinda was so upset that Jim wouldn’t marry her. She prayed all those months to give him a son. What man don’t want a boy to carry on his name? Jim Younger must have been the first. Lucinda hoped he’d change his mind. That didn’t happen. That bastard actually got on his horse and left just after Lucinda’s water broke, so she had no use for you.”

  “Stop it!” Ma screeched. Her fingernails clawed into the table as she leaned threateningly toward that thin she-devil. Ma’s hateful glare bore into her. “What a vile thing to say to a child. You disgust me.”

  Cheers rose. Folks applauded. There was a bustling inside the small room. People were on their feet. That made it feel even tighter, and Nate gulped air between sobs. Jesse grunted loudly while eyeballing Thatcher, who wore a broad smirk. Jesse’s face was pinched tight, and as he began to thunder up out of his chair, Huckabee’s hand slapped down on his shoulder, throwing him back into his seat before all hell broke loose.

  That bitch of a mountain woman was tougher than leather. Nate had known that the moment he’d met her. She didn’t bat an eye at any of the ruckus. Being a saloon girl at one time, she was in her element with arguments and near fights breaking out around her.