Nathanial

by J. B. Richard

  He met Huckabee’s gaze and shook his head. “I can’t.” He wouldn’t go after Nathanial unless Ma or Sheriff Crosson wanted him to. Jesse turned toward Ma. “Let’s go.” He took her hand.

  A few minutes later, Ma had herself situated on the seat, and Jesse raised his arms about to slap leather to the team of horses and circle the wagon toward home.

  Marshal Huckabee ran his horse past, on Nathanial’s trail. Jesse shook his head. His partner was a miniature sheriff when it came to reading sign, and he was no dummy when it came to hiding hoofprints. He was better at it than most men. Pure dumb luck was what it would amount to if Huckabee found the boy. But Jesse suspected Nate would eventually come home. The kid never strayed too far without Buck. He would return for his horse.

  “Wait a minute!” Judge Parker hustled up next to the wagon. Mr. Graham and Prescott were with him. The judge cleared his throat. “This trial has become a damn circus. Well, it ends today. I’ve already spoken to the Fletchers. Court will resume in two hours. The sooner a decision is made, the better for everyone involved. Dragging out this mess another day will just make the situation worse. I’m thankful no one pulled a gun in there.”

  Parker dabbed a handkerchief across his glistening brow. He looked solemnly at Ma. “I am sorry, ma’am. I sympathize, given your condition and what you had to endure hearing in that courtroom today. I am also aware of why your husband, Sheriff Crosson, was not present today. None of this can be easy on you and now, with the boy missing, I’m sure you’re not in the best frame of mind to testify this afternoon, but I hope you can understand my position regarding having this trial over and done with. Tempers have gotten out of control.” Parker pointedly looked at Jesse.

  Ma nodded, wiping at her red eyes.

  Jesse would be the first to admit that he wanted this trial over fast, but weren’t they all forgetting something, something pretty important? “Doesn’t Nathanial have to speak?”

  The judge shook his head. “That little one is obviously upset. He’s run off, and kids will oftentimes say things that will get them what they want, which isn’t always what’s best for them.”

  Jesse scowled, inwardly disagreeing. The boy’s wishes should matter.

  Judge Parker threw his hands up. “I’m not saying the Fletchers are what’s best for the boy, nor am I calling Nathanial a liar. What I am trying to get across to you is that right now, in the state of certain shock, given what the child heard from Mr. Gill, and the grief that young one must be feeling because of it, his testimony wouldn’t stand up.”

  Parker wiped his head a second time, then inhaled deeply. “Plus, anyone with eyes can see his attachment. I don’t need to hear it. I know the boy wants to stay. The fact that he sat planted between the two of you during court like there was no safer place says a lot. Every time I caught sight of him glancing at the Fetchers, more tears glistened in his eyes. But I must warn you both. I am duty-bound to the law, and I will rule as the law governs me to. Mrs. Fletcher has proven that she is a blood relative, and that is substantial.” Parker turned on his heel, marching toward the hotel.

  The crowd had gone. Only Graham and Prescott stood there.

  “Kate, you’ve seen how Thatcher operates. Don’t let him trip you up. He’s slick. The judge hasn’t heard your side of it yet. Whatever you do, think before you speak. I don’t believe Parker has his mind set one way or the other, but he is determined to end this trial,” Mr. Graham said with little confidence.

  “We can help prep you if you feel up to it.” Prescott piped up.

  Jesse needed a break to breathe some fresh air, to listen to the birds tweeting. Ma’s eyes were half closed, and she was rubbing at her temple. She needed rest, some sound sleep.

  “Excuse us, gentlemen.” Jesse clucked at the team.

  Not far outside of town, Ma reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’ll bet Nathanial is in the hayloft right this minute.”

  Jesse grinned. “Could be.” It was the boy’s thinking spot, and after all the stuff he’d heard, there was a lot to think about. “If he ain’t, I’m sure he’ll be home before dark. He’s probably just out running Freckles’ legs so the next time we race, the appaloosa won’t have a chance against Buck.”

  Ma hinted at a smile, leaned over, and kissed Jesse’s face. By nature, Jesse was sometimes a little silly, a big kid, and in this case, it helped mask his nervousness. He wasn’t so sure Judge Parker wasn’t leaning toward the Fletchers. If that was the final ruling, then his little partner might really run away.

  When Jesse steered the team into the yard, Doc Martin was standing on the porch, puffing a cigar. Small smoke rings floated up. “How’d it go?” he called to them.

  “Hard to say.” Jesse wasn’t going to open up his can of fears in front of Ma. She likely had a stirring gut full of them herself. He halted the wagon, then jumped down.

  “That’s strange. When I asked Nathanial, he said everything was fine.” Doc wore a puzzled expression, and his lips tightened around his cigar.

  “Nathanial is here?” Ma opened the picket gate. Her steps quickened.

  Jesse was right behind her, and for the first time today, he smiled.

  “Well … no, he isn’t.” Doc spoke out the side of his mouth not pinching the stub of his cigar.

  Ma stopped midstep, and Jesse nearly rammed into her. They looked questioningly at one another. Had Nathanial truly run away?

  Jesse spun toward the corral. Buck wasn’t there. He’d been rolling on his back in the dust when they’d left that morning. Freckles was there now, drinking from the water trough.

  “Did he say where he was going?” Ma’s voice quivered.

  Doc removed the glowing stub from between his lips, holding it in the seam of his first two fingers. He flicked the ash off the end. “No. He asked to see his pa. I let him for a minute or two. Then he switched horses and rode out. I assumed he was heading back to town.”

  “He ran off,” Jesse said to no one.

  Doc jerked, dropping what was left of his cigar. “Dammit.” He stomped the remnant with his heel. “If I’d have known, I would’ve nailed his boots to the floor.”

  Ma desperately threw open the door. “Perhaps he said something to his pa that will clue us in to where he might have gone.” She had a foot on the stairs when Jesse caught up to her.

  “Ma. Look!” What had made Jesse glance toward the dining room, God only knew. But a single sheet of paper centered on the table had caught his eye.

  They rushed through the sitting room and into the dining room. Doc joined them. Ma snatched up the paper. First, she read it silently while Jesse looked over her shoulder, and Doc was trying to steal a peek too. Ma’s eyes filled with tears. She turned and sadly stared at them. Then she crinkled the sides of the paper in her hands. As if it wasn’t real, as if she didn’t believe whatever was written on it.

  Dear Ma and Jesse,

  I said my good-bye to Pa. He didn’t wake up, so I’d be grateful if you would tell him for me that he is the best father ever. Ma, I think you’re the best mama. Jesse, my horse will always be faster than yours.

  The boy had drawn a little smiley face.

  Sorry, I don’t have much time to write anything else. I hope when Elizabeth is chewing on Ticklebug, she thinks of me.

  Nathanial

  Ma’s cheeks were tear-streaked. “Jesse, go fetch Nathanial.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jesse turned and ran out the door. It would be easier for him to track the marshal, who had no reason to hide his horse’s prints. But that would mean riding to town first. Maybe, by the grace of God, Huckabee had caught up to Nate. Jesse threw his saddle on Freckles.

  With him on the trails, that meant Ma would have to return to the courthouse and face the Fletchers alone. Not only that, but if the judge ruled against the Crossons, that blow might feel ten times worse without kin there to lean on. Jesse was torn in two. But Ma had asked him to go. She was thinking of her little boy, so that’s where Jesse would stay fo
cused—on finding that kid.

  He sank spurs.

  CHAPTER 28

  Jesse took a quick look around the yard, found the freshest hoofprints belonging to the mustang, and followed them out the lane. At the T where the coach road met with the wagon trail leading to or from the ranch, sign of the boy and his horse disappeared into the tree line ahead. If Jesse had the timing figured right, he should also come across Huckabee’s prints in there. The marshal had left town long enough behind Nate, a solid fifteen or twenty minutes, that he would’ve had time to stop quickly at the ranch, do the things he did, then be at least ten minutes in front of his pursuer. And the kid certainly had the smarts to know that someone would come after him.

  Jesse nudged his horse. Not far inside the trees, sure as shooting, he spotted a hoofprint. And Jesse was just as positive that it was the track of Huckabee’s gelding.

  Half an hour later, Jesse pulled up reins at the edge of Blue Sky Lake and let his horse drink. He took a swallow from his canteen. It would soon be time for Ma to head back into court. He couldn’t fret about that now. First, find Nate. Then worry about the other crap. He capped his canteen.

  About four miles later, Huckabee’s trail turned sharply south. Why had the kid, who was leading them, suddenly changed direction? Jesse jerked up on the reins and took a good, hard look around. Buck’s hoofprints were there on the ground, and not just a small hint of one. That was something new. So far, Nate had done a fair job of hiding any sign he’d left behind. So why stop covering his trail? The only reason Jesse could reasonably consider was that the boy had thrown an over-the-shoulder glance and spotted Huckabee somewhere along his backtrail, perhaps not too far off, and that was why the kid now seemed like he was in a hurry by not covering his tracks. And switching directions might slow the marshal down. Huckabee would have to watch the ground more carefully to make sure Nate didn’t switch directions again and again.

  Jesse spurred Freckles. If Huckabee was closing in on Nathanial, Jesse wanted to be there when he caught up. The boy obviously had his mind made up about running away. Jesse had talked Nate out of trouble a few times before. Maybe he could get him to be sensible this time. If not, it would be easier for two to bag that little rascal. Nate was a tough little bugger. It might take some real tussling to get him to return to Gray Rock—where the Fletchers might be waiting for him.

  As Jesse followed the zigzag trail he suspected the kid to use to try and fool them, he looked into the sky several times. Hours had passed since he’d left the ranch. Ma was either celebrating or crying her eyes out right now. The custody trial surely had ended. His gut tightened, and he wished he knew the final verdict. But what he needed to do was focus before he missed a turn.

  Jesse stepped his horse into a creek that was just deep enough to splash his boots with each stride of the gelding. There were no hoofprints on the opposite bank. Nate had stayed in the water to shake off the marshal. It appeared that the marshal had caught on to the trick and was also somewhere in the stream. There was no sign to clue Jesse which way to go. Should he follow the current or bet against it? So far, it had seemed that Nate was just leading them in an effort to escape.

  Jesse rubbed thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin. He was starting to think the kid now had a plan and knew where he was going. Even though his partner had been leading them one way, then another, in general, they were still heading on a southerly route. Why south? Did he have some connection there? Jesse turned his horse.

  By nightfall, his stomach was rumbling, and he was tired. His horse was holding up fairly well for as many rocky miles as they’d put behind them. Every now and then, the animal had halted of his own will, his nostrils flaring wide. Jesse had then gambled and given the horse his head. He couldn’t track in the dark. The appaloosa followed whatever scent had caught his attention. Jesse was crossing his fingers that it was either the somewhat familiar smell of Huckabee’s mount or Buck that put a mite of giddy-up in Freckles’ stride.

  The moon overhead gave light to his path, which helped keep Freckles from tripping. They had left the creek and rode over a tall butte dotted with the black forms of trees. Stars twinkled overhead. Nate’s coat had been hanging on its peg when they’d left the house that morning, and it was unlikely that he’d thought to grab it. The air in the hills got cold after sunset, and that boy was in nothing more than a cotton shirt. If the shivers came upon him, the kid would probably hole up somewhere smart where a small flame couldn’t be spotted so easily against the darkness.

  Jesse wasn’t overly familiar with the area. He could think of no good hiding place the boy might make camp. One thing he knew for sure: Nathanial loved his horse. It was unlikely that he would push Buck through the night. According to the shift of the stars, the hour was past midnight, way past the boy’s usual bedtime. He should be getting awful tired if he wasn’t already asleep. Jesse was counting on the kid to develop an awful case of lazy haze. The feeling when ya think you just can’t hold your heavy lids open one more second, when you’re not seeing straight anymore and your chin bobs on your chest every other minute. That’s when the boy would stop running and find a place to rest. No way would the boy risk Buck getting hurt if he wasn’t alert enough to lead him, especially at night. Jesse just hoped that would give him the right amount of time needed to catch the kid.

  Off in the not-too-far distance, there was a speck of orange on the ground. As he rode closer, slowing his pace, Jesse caught a whiff of smoke. He didn’t know whose fire that was, but it wasn’t Nathanial. The kid would never have set up camp in such an open area. There were some trees and a scattering of brush, but otherwise, the spot wasn’t all that concealed. A horse whinnied. Freckles’ head lifted high, his ears standing at attention, and his nostrils flared. Jesse felt him bloat his belly. Then he whinnied.

  “Hello,” Jesse called out, not wanting the sudden sound of a strange horse coming out of the dark to jolt whoever had built that fire into popping off a shot at him.

  “What changed your mind?” Marshal Huckabee stepped out from behind a tree, his rifle held down at his side. He, too, was a cautious man. It kept a fella living longer. Apparently, he’d been ready for any trouble that might have been coming had it not been Jesse.

  “When I saw the boy had taken his horse, I knew then that he planned a one-way trip.”

  Jesse picketed Freckles next to the marshal’s horse where there was grass for them to eat. He stripped off his saddle, then carried his gear over his shoulder and joined the marshal at the fire. The coffee smelled good, or at least it would be hot.

  “Help yourself,” Huckabee said as he tossed a few sticks into the flames.

  Jesse did just that. Maybe now his stomach would stop its growling.

  “That damn Nolan is too good a teacher.” Huckabee grinned. “That boy of his threw every trick a man can use to hide his trail and then some at me. Shit. I never even caught a glimpse of Nathanial. I didn’t think it’d be this hard to catch him.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Yeah. Out and out, the boy is his pa.” Jesse sobered. “You got any ideas of where he might be headed?” After following him all day, he figured Huckabee might have some clue.

  Marshal Huckabee nodded. “Sure do.” He set down his cup. “You have probably heard the story of how Nathanial and my son, Deputy, ran off and ended up in Buttonwood.”

  “Sheriff Crosson told me that Nate had gotten jealous around the time Elizabeth was due to be born. But Buttonwood is where Nate had run into that killer, Tipsy.”

  “That’s correct.” Huckabee confirmed what Jesse had already known.

  “Tipsy’s dead, but don’t you think the kid would shy away from a place where perhaps another no-account from his past might show up? Buttonwood’s a rough town.” Jesse wasn’t convinced that Huckabee was right.

  “What Nolan might not have shared with you was that Nathanial and Deputy received a fat reward for Tipsy’s capture. Five hundred dollars apiece. Plus, since they returned the Wells Fargo mone
y Tipsy had stolen, each of the boys got a thank-you in the amount of two hundred and fifty dollars. That’s fifteen hundred between those two knuckleheads.”

  “So.” Jesse shrugged. That was a lot of money, but he didn’t see how any of that related to this.

  “What do you think kids who are feeling rich and suddenly find themselves loaded down with lots of money are gonna do?”

  “Spend it,” Jesse said. If that’d been him, that’s what he would have done.

  “What do you think they’d spend it on?”

  Jesse was annoyed and wished Huckabee would get to the damn point. But as Sheriff Crosson had always done, the marshal was making him think out the answer. People thought differently, and the more he knew about how to figure out a person’s true motive, which couldn’t always be seen by facts on the outside, the better lawman he would become. Tracking people was a big part of his job. Usually, it was criminals. In this case, it was a little boy that Jesse cared a lot about.

  Jesse thought a minute. What would a kid buy with all that money?

  Jesse smirked. “Candy.”

  Huckabee laughed. “They did buy sweets. But at that point, the boys had been gone for two months. Other than the train ride from Three Springs into Buttonwood, the boys had hoofed it nearly three hundred miles.”

  Jesse straightened. “They would have bought horses.” He still wasn’t seeing the connection between Nate and Buttonwood.

  “Nathanial bought the mustang he’s riding now. Purchased him from a man by the name of Graybill. That fella’s wife’s maiden name is Harper.”