“Doc informed me about Jessa’s condition.” His voice was soft, and all his muscles seemed to sag. Not in an unhappy way. Instead, his loose posture seemed to convey acceptance. He lifted his head and looked straight into Mississippi’s eyes. “I would hate to see any harm come to my daughter or my grandchild. Best way to protect them is to git ‘em outta here.”
Before Mississippi could react, Jessa let go of him and threw her arms around her father’s neck, hugging him tight, tears rolling down both cheeks. Basking in her joy, she even kissed the old man’s wrinkled face three or four times, and he put his arms around her, patted her back tenderly, and smiled. Mississippi could appreciate the mending of the spoiled relationship between father and daughter and he understood that strong desire to protect the ones you loved, but he didn’t think running like a coward was the answer. If anything, Jessa and the baby were reason for him to do what was right.
“I don’t want her or the baby having to look over their shoulders the rest of their lives, and that’s exactly what they’ll have to do if we run.” Mississippi was in an arguing kind of mood. None of what Pike had said about tucking tail and skipping out was sitting well with him. He wasn’t yellow.
Pike’s face hardened, and Jessa’s eyes reddened with tears. She was clinging to her father. They both knew precisely what Mississippi was saying. He wasn’t running anywhere.
Pike cleared his throat while gently consoling Jessa by rubbing her back. Her face was now buried in the chest of Pike’s shirt, and she was sobbing.
“I’ve chosen to turn a blind eye, which wasn’t an easy decision. My instinct as a lawman is to hang you by the neck until dead, then take this poor crying girl, carrying your baby, back to town into my and her late mother’s home and keep her safe there. But I know that ain’t what she wants. So I’m willing to look the other way for her sake. If Curry finds out, he could have my badge stripped. Then as far as the law, I can’t be of help to anyone, including Jessa and the baby.”
Jessa clung tighter to her father. Her head was up, and she stared in what Mississippi suspected was disbelief at the man. From what he knew about Pike, he had worn a badge from the age of seventeen. It was part of him, not just a job, and he was a proud person. To risk the removal of that star was saying a lot about his feelings toward his daughter and the baby.
That was all wonderful, but Mississippi couldn’t let go of the nagging sense that it would not only be the law that tailed him if he ran with Jessa. Clint would suspect they had the money and were running with it. He, too, would come hunting them.
Mississippi leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the cot, his face inches from Pike’s nose. “My plan is to kill Clint, then turn over the money. I’ll kill the others if it comes to that, and likely, it will.”
Every line on Pike’s face furrowed, and the black of his eyes narrowed. “You’ll only git yourself killed, and that don’t make sense when you got this girl and baby to look after.” His lips pressed into a thin line.
Mississippi admitted why he felt this was something he needed to do. “Sir, I’m guilty. I deserve to hang. But more than anything, my boy will hear about the one good thing I did instead of all the bad. I will stop Clint and the gang. That’s all I have to give to my boy. It ain’t much, but I want him to respect his name and me and his mother.”
Jessa turned her head away from Pike’s shirt. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy. Her cheeks paled, and she stared with the worst case of lovesickness he’d ever seen on someone’s face. There was a dawning as she slowly, gently pulled away from her father and turned herself to reach for Mississippi. He pulled her onto the cot next to him, and she held tight to him just as she had her father. For the first time, she was seeing him for what he was. A dead man. His time was coming to an end. Even if he did kill Clint, he then had the law to face, and that was a certain death sentence.
Pike jumped to his feet, pointing a bony finger at him. “You’re just being stupid. I can respect the fact that you want to set things right, but this ain’t about you anymore. It’s about her and the baby. Getting yourself killed ain’t what’s best for them. You want some other man raising your son?”
Pike had hit below the belt with that punch, and it knocked some of the steam from Mississippi. He’d thought about that himself, and it did irk him—a lot. His father had been a good one, and Mississippi wished for divine intervention. That by some chance, some redeeming grace, he’d be granted a lifelong opportunity to show that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
Someday his son would probably find out all of this, and Mississippi wouldn’t have him lose respect or look at his father as a coward. He’d rather someone else raise his boy than go through that and have to explain why he hadn’t stayed and faced his trouble like a man. Mississippi stood and said nothing about it to Pike. The fierce old man was not going to convince him to do otherwise. Neither would Jessa’s tears. Pike was smart enough to know that more words on the matter would be a waste of time.
“Take her back to town with ya.” Mississippi wasn’t asking.
“No.” She adamantly shook her head.
“She’s safer here. You should both know that Sheriff Curry threw Doc in jail when he came back to town without Jessa and he refused to tell him where she was. Now that I know the two of you are here, I can keep Curry pointed in another direction until you’ve had some more time to heal.”
“Well, can’t you get Doc out?” Jessa said pleadingly.
“I did as soon as I knew he’d been locked up. That’s when he told me where the two of you were hiding.” Pike opened the door. Stars were starting to shine. “The air’s cool. Jessa, you best stay inside. Boy, walk with me.”
Side by side, they headed the short distance to his horse and out of Jessa’s earshot. The sheriff opened his saddlebags and pulled out a side of wrapped bacon, some flour, sugar, and a few other smaller items.
“Why are you doing all this?” Mississippi asked, aware of the rebirth of the father-daughter relationship. But a lawman with Sheriff Pike’s upright reputation didn’t just bend the rules. That was obvious in the fact that the man had at one time contemplated running his daughter out of town. So what made this situation different? Was it the baby? That was a little hard to believe, considering the child was fathered by an outlaw, not exactly bragging rights for a decorated lawman.
Pike sneered. “Let me make something very clear. Nothing I’m doing is for you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the tiny shack. The woman inside was on both their minds. “If it wasn’t for her, I’d have hanged you and been home eating my supper by now. And if ya ever show your face in my town, I’ll have no choice but to stretch your neck. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” This man was Jessa’s father, and Mississippi respected that. He also respected the badge he wore. His past attitude didn’t reflect that, but moving forward, he was a changed man. Sheriff Pike was exactly the influence Mississippi wanted in his son’s life to keep him on the straight and narrow, away from the wide path he had foolhardily turned onto. “I need to know she’ll always be taken care of. I want your word that you won’t change your mind for some reason and run her and the baby out of town once this is over.”
Sheriff Pike swung a leg over, then turned in the saddle and stared down at Mississippi. “I never ran her out of town. Might seem that way, but that’s not what happened.” He adjusted his hat. “She and the baby are welcome to come home anytime she sees fit. Though, I doubt you can talk her into it. Maybe she’d come for a short time, but we’re too much alike.” He turned his horse and trotted off, disappearing into the trees.
Mississippi took the supplies the sheriff had given them inside.
The week passed quickly. Three out of seven days, Jessa had the morning sickness. Mississippi took over the chores of fetching wood, hunting, and bringing water up from the stream. His strength had returned. Maybe not to its fullest, but he knew it would soon be time to go. He felt like a caged animal in the
cramped quarters, though he enjoyed his time with Jessa. For years, he’d been on the prowl. That had become an instinct, one that kept him alive, one he couldn’t just turn off.
And he needed to stay on high alert if he didn’t want to be caught off guard. Clint was a snake-in-the-grass scoundrel. When he said he was going to kill someone, that’s exactly what he would do. It wasn’t enough that he’d tried to kill Mississippi. A madman didn’t bluff. His intention was to kill Jessa because of some crazy notion that Mississippi was a traitor, supposedly in cahoots with Porter and the women since he’d aided Jessa. A mind that full of distrust and hate was bound to explode. Mississippi needed to get Jessa somewhere safe before the killing started. Now for the hard part—getting her to see that.
Mississippi was restless that night and couldn’t sleep. Jessa lay on the cot. She had complained of nausea after supper, when she didn’t eat more than a bite or two. The even rise and fall of her chest indicated she was at rest. He wouldn’t be at ease until he faced Clint and they settled this once and for all.
Had his reflexes slowed too much? He couldn’t practice because the shots would bring the posse charging or the curious Apache looking for a scalp. For now, they were stuck. It would be dumb to try and walk anywhere far and chance getting caught on foot by any of the three sources of trouble that had his mind working double-time. Pike had said he’d be back in a few days. If Mississippi had any luck, he would bring horses.
It was just before dawn when Sheriff Pike pulled up reins in front of the shack with Mississippi’s horse and Bean in tow. His wish had been granted. This put a smile on his face.
“You got little to smile about, boy.” Sheriff Pike stepped down, tossing the lead line of the two animals strung along behind his horse. “How’s she been feeling?” He jerked his head toward the cabin.
“Not too good. Having trouble holding anything down,” Mississippi said.
Pike kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Once you go out and git yourself killed, I’m sure that’s going to make the morning sickness better.” He snorted while rolling his eyes.
It was all too clear to Mississippi that Pike had woken up on the right side of being an asshole this morning. That man was Jessa’s father, so Mississippi would keep a civil tongue in his head, but he wouldn’t let the remark go unchecked.
“She’ll be fine. Doc said so after he examined her.” The words of a doctor might work to calm the man, but Jessa’s sickness was only part of what made Pike’s mood foul. Nothing he’d said so far had changed Mississippi’s mind, and it sorely irritated the lawman, who was definitely used to people doing as he said.
“Shut up!” Pike snapped. “Why’d you have to go and get her pregnant?” He shook his head as though throwing off the thought of Jessa someday soon becoming a widow and their baby a bastard. It wasn’t the reality Mississippi wanted either and he hated to think about it, but that didn’t make it any less true.
“Having a baby was never my intention. We were just having a little—” He stopped himself before giving account of Pike’s only daughter as nothing more than a night of good fun. It wasn’t how a father wanted to hear his little girl described.
It was true that Mississippi and Jessa’s relationship had started out that way, but his attachment to her had grown, especially now with the baby on the way. His fondness for her was genuine. Surely, Pike could see that, but he was upset. And a man who was riled didn’t always think straight. It was obvious by his scowling face that Mississippi had said the wrong thing.
Pike dropped his reins and charged. Grabbing him around the arms, he lifted and nailed Mississippi’s hide to the wall with a thud. “Boy, you ain’t much in my opinion. Ya think running off half-cocked and getting yourself killed is what’s best for her and that baby?” Pike’s jaw clenched, his flushed face an inch from Mississippi’s chin.
They had butted heads over this before, and Mississippi had no gumption to rehash it, so he kept quiet. Though, he didn’t cotton to being pushed and was damn near the end of his rope as far as tolerating the old man’s shit.
“The law will find that money. We don’t need the help of some sorry-ass whelp who thinks he’s faster than anyone else on the draw. And believe me, boy, ‘cause I’ve seen it play out many a time long before your daddy met your mama. Someone will come along who’s faster.” He dropped Mississippi onto his feet.
Mississippi straightened his clothes and said nothing. Inwardly, he was seething. Jessa’s father was right of course, except about the running off half-cocked. Clint was a slippery devil. The law hadn’t caught him yet, and they’d been riding in the same hundred-mile radius for a month now. Likely, the law wouldn’t catch him, but a man who knew how Clint thought, had been at his side, a pal, a partner, a man whose instincts where molded the same—that man would know what move the other would make before he made it.
Men on the run, cautious men, tended to ride trails that others didn’t even know about. Or they made their own, which was common sense. They also knew how to cover their tracks and hide in plain sight, following a gut instinct that would be far different from that of a lawman. Clint did the unexpected at times, which had saved his hide a time or two.
“You and that gal are gonna git outta here. I ain’t giving ya a choice. Doc told me about that parcel of land ya gave her. Take her there and don’t come back.” Spittle sprayed between Sheriff Pike’s clenched teeth and speckled Mississippi’s face. The man was practically foaming at the mouth. What had him this worked up? Even if the sheriff believed Mississippi was wrong for wanting to fight Clint, Jessa was a capable woman. Something had that man spooked.
“What’s eating at you?” Mississippi snapped in return, holding back the urge to shove the old coot’s frankness right down his throat. He was an outlaw, Jessa’s father a lawman. They weren’t going to become chummy even if he got the chance to marry Jessa.
“Curry’s frustrated and taking his impatience out on my townspeople. It’s me against him and six deputies, so there’s only so much I can do.”
Blood was what Curry wanted, and Pike didn’t want his daughter caught in the middle when it started. “Deputize me. I’ll run Sheriff Curry out of the territory, then kill Clint.”
Laughter boomed from Sheriff Pike and shook the trees. A few birds flew up at the mocking racket. Dawn had blossomed in a pink hue, and with it, Mississippi’s mood turned black. He didn’t enjoy eating crow.
“First…” Pike cleared the thick chortle of amusement out his throat. The hard lines of his face drew tight once again. “You would have to be pardoned. That requires the governor’s signature or someone above him to act on your behalf.”
As if no man were ever pardoned and the very idea of it was completely absurd, he turned and walked inside, leaving Mississippi muttering resentfully. If Curry treated his badge as a free ticket to stomp on good law-abiding folks and disrupt their quiet little town, then he wasn’t any better than Mississippi.
Doc was in that town. And Stan, who had once helped Mississippi out. Just because a man wore a star didn’t mean he was upright. For instance, Porter’s Pinkerton friend who had fed them the info about the money coming into Burnt Cabins. Friendly fella but obviously ethically unsound. Lawmen who put the squeeze to innocent folks were no better than bullies like Clint, maybe even worse, because typically, trust was automatically given to a man who took an oath to uphold the law.
Mississippi walked inside after he’d cooled down. Jessa, her lids hanging sleepily, was on her feet and slowly gathering what remained of their supplies. She looked up at him and wearily grinned. She hadn’t been ready to get up, and it showed in the dark circles under her eyes.
“What made ya change your mind?” She curiously eyed him.
Change his mind about what? He raised a brow.
Sheriff Pike popped off the chair, turning just so he blocked her view of Mississippi. “I told ya, girl. It’s the right thing, and he knows it.” He had Jessa gripped by the shoulders.
What was important was that she understood why he couldn’t run this time. Mississippi had run from the law for what felt like a lifetime. He was done. It was time to face up to all the bad things he had done, to stop trouble before it struck again. An almost impossible task, taking on Clint, Rascal, and Jay when that mean bastard Curry and his lot of deputies could show up and finish them all off. Pike would sit back and watch as long as Jessa was out of the way. At the end of that day to come, there was going to be a whole lot of killing.
He couldn’t find the words to explain it, never was one for making speeches or trying to convince others to see it his way. She knew the man he had been and saw firsthand the changes in his attitude—determined to return the money—and in his actions. It wasn’t easy what he was about to do, going up against men who had been his best friends. “You go on back with your pa and stay put.”
Jessa burst into tears. Her father’s fist slammed down atop the barrel, knocking a tin cup flying. It tinged off the floor and landed under the cot. “Boy, you will git on that horse.” He pointed with a straight finger toward the door. “And get her out of here. She ain’t safe. Curry’s declared her as guilty as the rest of ya. If he finds her, he’ll hang her.”
“You afraid of him?” Mississippi barked. But it was too late. He was already thinking that he shouldn’t let her out of his sight. The problem was he couldn’t take her to hunt Clint—too dangerous. Neither option was good. Dammit. This was some bad luck.
Pike spit. “Hell no. But I ain’t bulletproof, and I don’t put it past a one of his deputies to dry-gulch me. Then what? She’ll be on the run with a baby and no protection. Quit thinking about you and start thinking about what’s best for your family. Don’t make my mistake.”
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