KEEPING HIS PROMISE to Miriam, Ben fetched only the doctor, explaining none of the details of how Johnny had been shot until they were well out of town. On the lonely ride in, Ben had spent a lot of time thinking. If Franklin Hoskins was going to be arrested, the least Ben could do was warn his son. As he and the doctor passed the cut-off to Harry’s ranch, Ben took it, leaving Doc Logan to proceed alone.
Harry was less than pleased at being aroused in the middle of the night. “This better be good,” he warned Ben, running a hand through his tousled hair and squinting to make out Ben’s expression in the shadows of his front porch.
“Johnny’s been shot.”
“Shot? How? When? Who did it?”
“This afternoon. Your father did it because he thought Johnny was carrying on with Miriam.”
“Good God almighty,” Harry groaned. “I guess it’s too much to hope that this is a bad dream.”
“Sorry, partner.”
“Come on in while I get my pants on. Tell me the whole story.”
Ben filled him in on the details while he dressed. In a matter of minutes they were riding toward Ben’s ranch. By the time they got there, the doctor was just finishing up.
“Keep the wound clean, and keep him in bed for at least a week. If he starts running a fever, send for me,” he was telling Molly when Ben and Harry walked in. “You’re a mighty lucky man, McGee. If that bullet had been a fraction higher, we’d be laying you out tomorrow.”
Johnny gave him one of his grins. “Yeah, it’s almost enough to make a man straighten up and try to make something of himself.”
Ben felt relief course through him. If Johnny was well enough to joke, he was going to be all right. “I’m just wondering how long until he’ll be able to ride,” Ben teased. “He’s supposed to take a trail herd to Dodge for me next week.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else for the job,” the doctor said with a smile, “although I wouldn’t let him loaf around more than a month or so before putting him back to work. He looks like the kind of fellow who’d take advantage if you’d let him.”
Molly offered the doctor some coffee and breakfast before he went back. He accepted only the coffee, but still he lingered a half hour. By the time he left, Ben and Harry were barely able to contain their eagerness to hear Miriam’s story. Johnny had managed to drink some broth and was now dozing again. The rest of them gathered around the table while Miriam told them the sordid tale of her marriage and Franklin Hoskins’s mad quest for revenge.
“My God,” Ben said when she had finished, rage glittering in his eyes. He had taken Molly’s hand the moment he’d learned her father was not responsible for killing Fletcher, and now his grip was so tight her fingers were numb.
Miriam looked at Harry. “I’m so sorry. I wish you’d never had to hear this.”
“No, I’m glad I did. I’ve suspected for a long time that something was very wrong, and now I know what it is. It’s almost a relief to finally know the truth.”
“What are you going to do now?” Molly asked.
“I guess that’s up to Ben.”
Molly sensed her husband’s tension. “We’ll have to go to the sheriff,” he said.
Harry nodded grimly. “Yes, and then Father will be tried for murder, among other things.” He managed a small smile. “Well, Ben, this is a good day for you. Your father’s name will finally be cleared.”
“And your father’s name will be ruined.”
“Yes, his name, but not mine. You’ve shown me a man doesn’t have to bear the sins of his father if he chooses not to.”
Molly waited in vain for Ben to acknowledge Harry’s compliment. He seemed lost in his own private thoughts, and she felt a quiver of apprehension. “I think we could all do with some breakfast,” she announced with false cheerfulness, and proceeded to prepare a meal. Miriam helped, so the work went quickly, but by the time everyone had finished eating, Ben’s mood had grown even more dour.
“I guess we’d better go into town,” he said to Harry, who nodded solemnly.
Molly followed Ben into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She had intended to comfort him, but she gasped when she saw him strapping on his six-gun. “What are you doing?”
“I’m putting on my gun,” he said impatiently.
“I thought you were going to the sheriff.”
“Harry can go to the sheriff. I’m going to see Hoskins.”
“No!” she cried, running to him. She threw her arms around him and tried to pull him close. “Don’t do this!”
He resisted her embrace. “Molly, the man killed my father, and he shot Johnny down in cold blood.”
“So if you murder him, then I suppose everything will be fine!” she exclaimed in outrage. “Ben, haven’t you learned anything at all? Revenge destroys the person getting it, too!”
Gently but firmly he removed her hands from his arms. “This will be the end of it.”
“Will it? What about Harry? Don’t you think he’ll want some revenge of his own if you murder his father? Ben, think! You’re the only one who can end it, and only if you go to the law. Please, Ben!”
Deaf to her pleading, he strode to the door and opened it. “I’m ready if you are, Harry.”
“Wait!” Molly called, trying to think of a way to stop him. “I... I think Miriam should go along. The sheriff will want to hear her story.”
Miriam looked up in surprise, but to Molly’s relief she quickly agreed. “She’s right. I’ll have to tell it sooner or later, anyway. I might as well get it over with.”
“And I’ll go with you,” Molly added.
Ben scowled his disapproval. “Who’s going to take care of Johnny?”
“Tom and Billy. Go ask them while I get my bonnet.” Without waiting for his reply, she hurried back into the bedroom.
Ben drove the women in the buckboard, and Harry rode along beside them. They didn’t talk much since they were all lost in their own thoughts, but Molly could feel Ben’s anger like a living thing between them. Not long ago, his anger would have terrified her, but now she knew the true danger lay in giving in to it. She wouldn’t let him do this terrible thing, no matter how furious he became.
When Ben hesitated outside the sheriff’s office, Molly took his arm and forced him to accompany her inside. Sheriff Bigelow immediately sensed the importance of the visit of the grim-faced group and listened solemnly to Miriam’s story.
“I’ll be da... homswoggled,” Bigelow said when she was finished. “Harry, what do you think about all this?”
“I believe her, and I can certainly vouch for how jealous he’s always been of her. He hated Sam Cantrell, and even after Ben’s name was cleared, my father refused to acknowledge his innocence. I suppose he was afraid if we started looking for the real guilty party, we might discover the truth.”
“What about the night of the box social? Did any of you see him leave?”
“I didn’t actually see him leave, but I knew he wasn’t anywhere around,” Miriam said. “You see, when Ben was cleared of burning Harry’s barn, Franklin accused me of being the woman who was with Ben. Ordinarily he watches me very carefully, but he’d disappeared that night for some reason. I didn’t realize until last night where he’d been.”
“Can you arrest him?” Molly asked, hoping to see Hoskins safely behind bars.
Sheriff Bigelow shook his head. “I can question him about the crimes. The problem is we’ve got no evidence. All we’ve got is Miz Hoskins’s word that he confessed, but he probably won’t be so eager to tell his story to anybody else, and she’s his wife, so she can’t testify against him.”
Molly watched Ben in alarm, sensing his frustration. What would he do if they couldn’t get Hoskins to confess?
“We’ll make him talk, then,” Harry said, surprising everyone with his vehemence.
“Harry, he’s your father,” Ben protested. “You shouldn’t get involved.”
“That’s exactly why I should get involved. You aren’t the only one he’s hurt. Miriam and I have suffered from his crazy need for revenge, too. Come on, Sheriff. Let’s go face him down right now.”
Molly listened in horror as Ben and the sheriff readily agreed. She gripped Miriam’s hand in panic as they watched the men go. “Be careful,” she called helplessly just before Ben closed the door behind them. How would she ever stand the wait until they returned?
Beside her, Miriam drew a ragged breath, and Molly saw her lips moving in silent prayer. Please, Molly begged in her own heart, keep Ben safe, and don’t let him do anything he’ll regret!
Ben noticed absently how imposing the Hoskins mansion was. Its tall turrets stood head and shoulders above any other house in the town, and its ornate gingerbread cast eerie shadows across the facade as the sun climbed higher in the sky. How ironic to think his father lay dead these long years while his murderer had prospered. A new rage bubbled up within him, and he fought to maintain his outward calm.
“Do you suppose he knows Miriam is missing?” Harry asked while they were crossing the street in front of the house.
“He may not even be awake if he drank as much as Miriam thinks he did last night,” Ben replied.
The three men filed through the wrought-iron gate and up onto the broad front porch with its screen of bright morning glories. The sheriff pounded on the door, and they waited. Several minutes passed, and Harry twisted the doorbell a few times. At last they heard movement inside, and then the huge front door swung open to reveal a Franklin Hoskins Ben had never seen before.
The man was obviously wearing the same suit he had worn the day before, and it was wrinkled enough to indicate he had slept in it. In contrast with his normally perfectly groomed appearance, Hoskins’s hair was unkempt, and his face was covered with beard stubble. His bloodshot eyes and sallow complexion gave proof to Miriam’s story about his drinking the night before. He gazed at the three of them in frank surprise for a moment before gathering his usual dignity. “Good morning, Sheriff. What brings you out so early?”
“I think you can guess, Mr. Hoskins. Seems Johnny McGee was shot yesterday. Your wife says you did it.”
“My wife?” he said indignantly. “I can’t imagine when you would have spoken with my wife.”
“She’s in my office right now.”
Something like panic flitted across Hoskins’s face, but he quickly recovered his aplomb. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. Mrs. Hoskins has not even arisen yet this morning.”
“You’re wrong,” Ben informed him. “She never went to bed at all. She spent the night at my place.”
“Your place?” Hoskins’s face turned red with suppressed fury.
‘That’s right, Father,” Harry said. “And so did I. Miriam took Johnny to Ben’s after she found him still alive, and Ben got me because he thought I’d like to hear Miriam’s story. She told us everything.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hoskins tried, but he was starting to sweat.
“I think you do,” Ben said. “She told us how you shot Johnny and how you burned Harry’s barn so I’d get the blame, and how you killed Fletcher—”
“That bitch!” Hoskins spat. “She lied, Sheriff. She wants to get rid of me so she can have my money.”
The sheriff was unmoved. “I just want to ask you some questions, Mr. Hoskins, about where you were the night of the box social when the fire was being set—”
“I was there, with her. She knows that.”
Ben played a hunch. “Then why did she tell the judge she was with me?”
Hoskins’s shock was profound. His red, sweating face turned purple. “I knew it! She’s a whore. She’s always been a whore!” He moved so quickly that no one even suspected anything until the gun flashed in the morning sunlight.
Ben reached for his own pistol and flung himself to the side just as Hoskins fired.
“Father!” Harry yelled, but Hoskins was gone, running through the house.
Harry took off after him, but Ben guessed Hoskins’s intention was to get away. “He’ll head for the barn,” he told the sheriff, scrambling to his feet. The two of them dashed off the porch and around toward the backyard. Harry slammed out the back door just as they rounded the corner of the house.
“He went in the barn,” Harry shouted.
“Is there another way out?” the sheriff asked breathlessly.
“Yes, I’ll go cover it.”
Harry was gone in an instant. Ben and the sheriff cautiously approached the large double doors, which were still standing open. They paused outside, guns drawn, one on each side of the opening, listening. Ben had expected to hear the sounds of a man frantically saddling a horse. Instead he heard only the normal sounds of horses shuffling in their stalls. Could Hoskins have already escaped?
“He didn’t go out the back,” Harry called. “The door’s still barred from the inside.”
Ben and the sheriff exchanged a puzzled look. Why would Hoskins have backed himself into a corner?
“Hoskins,” the sheriff yelled, “give it up. We’ve got all the doors covered. You can’t get away, so why don’t you come out with your hands up?”
No answer. They waited, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness.
“I’m going in,” Ben said, doing so before the sheriff could stop him. He slipped in, stepping quickly to one side into the shadows until his eyes could become accustomed to the dimness. He scanned the interior of the barn, searching for possible hiding places. There were dozens, stalls and dark corners, even the loft above. He listened again. Surely if Hoskins had gone into a stall, the horse would be protesting the invasion, yet all the animals were quiet, poking their noses out curiously to see what all the excitement was about.
“Hoskins! You’ll never get away. Come out and—”
A bullet whizzed past Ben’s ear. He ducked for cover even before he heard the explosion from the shot.
“Ben!” Harry and the sheriff both yelled at once. The sheriff was inside in a flash, and the sound of running feet preceded Harry’s arrival.
Ben signaled that he was all right, not wanting Hoskins to find him by his voice again, and motioned for the others to get down.
Harry refused to be cowed. “Father, this is crazy! What can you hope to gain?”
“I’m not going to let them hang me!” Hoskins’s voice came from the loft.
“Johnny McGee’s not dead. Doc Logan says he’s going to be Fine.”
“Fletcher is dead, and so is Sam Cantrell!”
“Are you admitting you killed them?”
“You know I did! That bitch told you, didn’t she? But you won’t take me alive.”
“We aren’t going to shoot you, Father—”
The next shot hit the wall behind Harry, and Ben dove for him, bringing him down before Hoskins’s gun exploded again.
“He’s your son, for God’s sake!” the sheriff shouted, but Hoskins’s only reply was another shot.
“How many is that?” Ben asked as he and Harry scrambled to a safer spot.
“Four, I think.”
“I’ve got a pocket full of ammunition,” Hoskins called.
“What’s going on?” someone called from outside the barn. They could hear others running up, drawn by the unfamiliar sound of gunfire.
“Get back!” Ben shouted. “Keep everyone away.”
Hoskins obligingly fired another shot that kicked up dust in the barn doorway. Ben could hear Reverend Bates and Mr. Wells urging people to move back. Where was Molly? He prayed she hadn’t heard the shooting; she was worried enough already. To his surprise, he saw Harry draw his gun. “You’re not going to shoot your own father, are you?”
“I figure if we do some shooting ourselves, maybe we can scare him out,” Harry whispered. “Maybe he doesn’t have as much ammunition as he says, either.” He fired, aiming straight up and well away from where Hoskins was hidden.
Hoskins answered the shot, sending Ben and Harry ducking for cover again. This time Ben slipped away from Harry, thinking his time had come, the moment he’d dreamed of for so long. The man who’d killed his father, who’d ruined his name, was up there just begging to be shot.
He waited, listening for a sound to tell him where his quarry was. The sheriff had caught on to Harry’s plan and was firing wildly, too, drawing a volley of shots from the loft. Now, Ben thought, carefully drawing a bead on his target. Now!
But nothing happened. His finger froze on the trigger, his vision blurred, and for a moment even the blasts of gunfire faded.
Hadn’t he learned anything? The question exploded in his mind, and along with it came a vision of Molly’s lovely face twisted in despair.
Once he’d thanked her for giving him back his life, and now he wanted to throw it away again for some mindless urge for revenge. Hadn’t he learned anything?
Yes, he cried silently, I’ve learned a lot. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his pistol again and let his shot go wild.
By now the horses were screaming with terror in their stalls, and the crowd noise outside told Ben most of the town had gathered to see what the commotion was about. Above they heard Hoskins moving to a new position. “Damn you, shoot at me!” He exposed himself in the opening of the loft and took careful aim at Ben’s head. This time the volley of shots came from below, and Hoskins’s own bullet went wild as he ducked for cover. “If you don’t kill me, I’ll kill you all!”
Again he appeared, and a bullet clipped Harry’s hat brim.
“I’ve got no choice, boys,” the sheriff said grimly, and the next time Hoskins appeared, he fired with deadly purpose.
“Hey, what’s that sound?” Harry asked after a minute.
Ben listened. At first he heard nothing above the din of the braying horses and the echo of gunfire in his ears, but then he detected it, a faint crackling. He sniffed, but the air in the barn was already clouded with gun smoke. “Hoskins, is there a fire up there?”
His only answer was a bloodcurdling laugh.
The crackle whooshed into a roar as the hay in the loft exploded into flame.
“Father!” Harry yelled, but Hoskins only laughed again. The sound sent chills up Ben’s spine.
“Come down, Hoskins!” Ben called. “You’ll burn to death.”
“It’s fitting, isn’t it? I’ve burned two barns, and now I’ll burn my own!”
“Father, don’t be a fool!”
Smoke was billowing down through the opening in the loft now, and the people outside were yelling about the fire.
“Hoskins,” the sheriff called. “We don’t have any evidence against you, and your wife can’t testify against you. You’ll probably get off scot free.”
“Nice try, Bigelow, but I’ve already confessed to you. I’m not going to strangle like Cantrell did.”
A blast of gunfire sent the three men below ducking frantically. Bullets splintered wood everywhere, and a horse screamed in agony.
Heat from the fire came down in waves, and the men below could see the glow as the flames ate through the floor above.
“Father!” Harry called again, but this time he received no answer. All three of them yelled and then fired a round of shots, but the crackle of flames was their only reply. “I can’t let him burn,” Harry said as he raced for the ladder.
Ben was right on his heels, and the two of them shimmied up the ladder, fighting the smoke and heat that grew more intense with every rung.
“Father! Oh, my God!” Ben heard Harry say when he cleared the edge of the loft. Harry lunged as if to grab his father, but in that instant a beam crashed down, striking him on the forehead.
The flames were racing toward them, and to Ben’s horror he saw Harry’s shirt catch fire. “Harry!’’ He grasped Harry’s gun belt and jerked him back onto the ladder, very nearly sending them both crashing to the ground. “Your shirt’s on fire!”
Ben slapped at the flames while Harry tried to get his footing on the ladder. Suddenly Ben realized the blow had stunned his friend, slowing his reactions. Harry’s foot slipped, and he fell against Ben, sending them sliding down another rung.
Ben became aware of the sheriff bellowing orders down below and other voices drifting up as townspeople poured in to rescue the horses.
“Get him on your shoulder, Ben. We’ll help you.”
Hands, reaching up, supported him as the smoke enveloped them. With superhuman effort, Ben jerked Harry around to face him. His friend’s eyes were glazed, and he tried to fight, but Ben wrestled him over his shoulder. He took one step and then another. Someone helped him, and when his foot slipped, solid bodies broke the fall.
Outside, Molly and Miriam clung to each other and watched in terror as men hurried out of the barn, some leading horses, others helping those who had been overcome by smoke.
“Where are they?” Miriam asked for what seemed like the tenth time.
Molly stared at the barn door with stinging eyes, refusing to give way to tears until she knew what had happened to Ben.
“Ben!” she cried the instant he and Harry staggered out. Breaking free of Miriam’s grasp, she ran and threw her arms around him. Several men took charge of Harry and led him away while Ben and Molly simply rejoiced in finding each other again.
“Where’s Franklin?” Miriam asked from behind Molly.
Reluctantly, Ben released Molly. “He’s still inside.”
They all looked up at the barn, which was now fully engulfed in flames. Miriam uttered a little cry of horror, and Molly went to her. She and Ben led her over to where Harry was being cared for as Ben told her as briefly and kindly as possible what had happened inside the barn.
Someone had removed Harry’s charred shirt, and Dr. Logan was looking at the bums on his back.
“How bad is it?” Ben asked.
“He’ll have a nasty bruise from whatever hit him, but you got the fire out before it did more than scorch him a little. A couple days and he’ll be good as new.”
“Thank heaven,” Miriam murmured. “Harry, did you see Franklin when you climbed the ladder?”
Harry drew a ragged breath and let it out in a long sigh. “I only got a glance at him before the beam hit me, but it looked like he’d shot himself. The barrel of his pistol was in his mouth and...” He left the rest to their imagination.
Molly looked at Ben. “You didn’t...?”
“I remembered what you said, and I couldn’t,” he told her simply. Molly went weak with relief and gratefully slipped into Ben’s embrace.
“How did the fire start?” Miriam asked.
Ben shrugged. “Maybe a flash from his gun. Maybe one of our bullets caught the hay on fire. Maybe he set it himself. We’ll never know for sure.”
“All you folks are starting to look kind of peaked,” Dr. Logan observed. “I think you ought to find a nice quiet place to lay down for a while.”
Molly saw the lines of strain on Ben’s face, and Harry and Miriam both looked about to drop. She was wondering how on earth they could make it home when Reverend Bates came over and offered to put them all up at his house until they felt well enough to return to their own homes.
Ben slipped his arm around Molly, and she glimpsed the lingering sadness in his eyes. He’d resisted the urge for revenge, but he was certainly entitled to the justice that had eluded him again.
“I reckon we’ll take you up on your offer, Reverend,” Ben was saying as they turned to go, but they stopped dead at the sight of what must have been the entire population of Hoskinsville standing in a semicircle around them, waiting expectantly.
Molly couldn’t imagine what they wanted, and no one seemed inclined to say. They all simply stared, looking sheepish and uncomfortable. At last Mr. Wells stepped forward as spokesman. “Ben, Molly and Mrs. Hoskins told us that Franklin finally confessed to killing Fletcher and having your father lynched. Of course we knew you didn’t burn Harry’s barn, but it was an awful thing for you to be accused of. Seems like we’ve failed you all these years, and we want you to know we’re sorry for what you’ve gone through.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. Molly could hardly believe her ears. Here it was, the moment of vindication Ben had been waiting six years for, but when she looked up at him, she saw not triumph but only a sad acceptance on his face.
“I reckon there was a time I would’ve tried to make you all feel bad about what happened to my pa,” he said, his voice husky. “But I remember how you came to help me when I needed it, and how you’ve always treated me fair even when I didn’t return the favor. What happened to my pa was a terrible thing, but enough people have already suffered because of it. We can’t let it ruin the rest of our lives.”
Molly gazed at him in astonishment. The miracle that had begun the day the people came to help build their bedroom was now complete. Reverend Bates patted Ben on the back. “Forgiveness is a blessed thing, Ben, and it blesses the one who forgives most of all.”
Ben smiled. “I know.”