15

The nightmare of Laura’s murder, with the sound of Dirk Gullahan’s mocking laughter, made Jared bolt upright in bed, his gun cocked and pointed. Moonlight streamed through the bedroom window. Daybreak was an hour away. His heart pounded and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Coming to terms with his surroundings, his arms relaxed by his side.

Mercy’s body shifted beneath the sheets; her long hair flowed down her back. Her hand touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

She started to sit up but Jared motioned for her to go back to sleep. She lay back against the pillow.

He eased the revolver under his pillow and laid down facing his wife. Another lady he vowed to protect. Would the stranger at their campsite pose the same threat? Would Dirk Gullahan take revenge for his brother’s hanging? Both men were a threat to his happiness.

Put your faith in me, and I will be your strength.

Jared swallowed hard. Could he trust God again after the brutal murder of his wife and unborn child? How could he trust himself? He had grown confident and become careless. He couldn’t let that happen again. Not ever.

“Are you all right?” Mercy’s voice sounded low and easy.

Jared didn’t answer but brushed away a few stray hairs that covered her milky skin. He marveled at the smoothness, just like the first time they touched.

She lifted her head. “Are the children−?”

“They’re fine.” Jared moved his body closer.

“Did you have−?”

Two of his fingers covered her mouth. He drew her body toward his and their lips touched. He kissed her as if it was the first time. As if it would be their last.

~*~

Nathan scampered across the open field toward Jared, a canteen draped across his torso and a cloth bundle in one hand. “Why didn’t you wake me before you left?” Nathan panted. “Here.” He extended the wrapped dishcloth toward Jared. “I sneaked some biscuits from the kitchen when no one was looking.”

Jared‘s stomach had rumbled since he got up, but he wanted an early start on replacing the fence rails. “How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t remember my head touching the trundle.”

“Are you sore from yesterday’s work?”

“Maybe a little.” But his stiff movements told Jared otherwise. For such a contrary child, he wasn’t a very good liar.

“We should have the rails along this fence row replaced in a few hours, and then Richard and I’ll head into town. But we’ll have to continue tomorrow. This will be quite a job.”

“I don’t mind working hard.” Nathan met Jared’s gaze. “I thought I’d go with you.”

“Mrs. Montrose may need help. And the Wullens could use you and Caleb to cut and stack more firewood.”

Nathan nodded, but his disappointment was evident.

“Head on back to the house and let them know I’ll be there for breakfast once I pound a few stakes in the ground.”

“How ’bout I stay here and help, Mr. Montrose? They’ll holler for us when they get agitated enough.”

“All right.” He chuckled and picked up a shovel. “Grab that pole tamp and let’s get to work.”

~*~

Mercy and Nathan carried the last loads of water to fill three large iron pots for Hazel.

Hazel set her sleeping baby in a crib she had moved outside in the shade. “Have you ever cleaned or carded wool before?”

Mercy shook her head.

“If you’re done with me, I’ll help Caleb with the firewood,” Nathan said.

“Thank you, Nathan. Make sure you keep an eye on Emma.”

“She’s on the porch with the old woman, watching her spin.”

“You should refer to her as Mrs. Wullen, please.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and walked off.

Hazel draped a light cotton spread over the baby’s chest. “Hopefully, she’ll sleep so I can get some work done.” She opened a large burlap sack and dumped dark brown wool into one kettle. “The important thing is to let the wool soak and not agitate the fibers. Just pick out the grass and dirt. It’s a tedious process, but it’s better than taking in laundry for a living.” She opened another sack that contained a lighter color wool and let it fall into the other pot. “That’s what my mother did to help out my pa. It pains me to even look at an iron. Mama and I did it for hours, days on end.”

“Then you sell the wool after it’s cleaned?”

“Usually we clean and card it and then spin it into yarn. Weavers prefer it that way. But sometimes buyers want it just after it’s been sheared, especially if they’re gonna felt it. It’s cheaper if they clean and card themselves, but most would rather have us do the work.”

“And you spin the wool, too?”

“That’s Viola’s job. We have an extra spinning wheel, but she doesn’t like the tension I put on the pedal. Every once in a while, she’ll ask me to help if she gets behind. But she’s been doing it since she was a girl, and her yarn is perfectly smooth and even. Mine usually comes out with bumps and lumps, and it’s harder to sell that way.”

“Do you do this every day?” Mercy lifted the wool from the water and began to remove the leaves and grasses, squeezing the clumps of dirt.

“Just about. Except Sunday. I clean or card in between my cooking and cleaning and hoeing the garden. If I get caught up, I weave plied yarn on the triangular shawl loom or I’ll crochet blankets.” Hazel picked up a sheet of wool and gently turned it over in the water. “Viola thinks I’m lazy. It’s a good thing I got my baby girl to nurse, or else I’d never get to sit for a spell. All Viola does besides look after Leonard is spin. All day. For hours at a time.”

“Your husband is an only child?”

“He is now. Viola had two older sons, but they were killed in the war. And then Helen ran off with that Dugen boy. Richard said that’s when Viola turned mean.”

“Well, she takes good care of Leonard.”

“She does. He sleeps a lot of the day. He caught rheumatic fever a few years ago, and we thought we were gonna lose him. He’s hung on, but he’s never been the same. Gettin’ old but has a kind spirit. Never heard a cross word come from his mouth.”

“Your husband seems to have taken after him. Richard has been very patient with the three children.”

“And that’s good for them. The boys won’t get any loving from their grandmother. That’s for sure.” Hazel released a big sigh. “Richard is a good man, don’t mistake me. I get aggravated with him, but he’s a good provider. He works his tail off for this ranch now that he’s the only child, but he cannot or will not stand up to his mother. She nitpicks at everything he does. And me, too. If I wasn’t so busy being angry with her, I guess I’d feel sorry for him.” Her fingers swirled around in the water, and her face softened. “Anyway...I guess you didn’t need to hear all that. Sorry for troubling you with my burdens.”

“I understand. My life has been nothing but hard. My ma died from cholera when I was five. I was the oldest of three. Life seemed to be a struggle every day. Then Pa remarried. Things got worse with my stepmother. And when Pa died, she remarried. I didn’t have much joy except for the simple pleasures God gave me.”

“Like what?” Hazel asked.

“Like being the first one up and watching the sun rise over the flat Kansas terrain, thinking God created that shade of yellow-orange just for me. Or watching our goat give birth to her kid in the field outside our barn. And then seeing it hobble around for hours until it finally had the strength to stand. Listening to meadowlarks at dusk call to each other in the cool of the evening. Finding a patch of blackberries before the starlings. Or the scrunched feeling as my sisters snuggled next to me at bedtime, begging me to read from Grimm’s Fairy Tales until they went to sleep. The binding fell apart on the only book we had, but they listened to the stories over and over as if it was their first time.” Mercy came out of her reverie.

Hazel was frozen, staring at her. “I don’t find anything pleasurable about my life. Just my baby girl. And if God takes her from me like he did my firstborn, I don’t think I could find the will to go on.”

“You must, Hazel. God created the world, so there’s good in it.”

“But I don’t ever see anything beautiful.”

“Maybe that’s because you aren’t looking for it.”

~*~

Richard showed Jared the trail where he could avoid the over-flooded creek. After two more days without rain it probably wouldn’t be a problem, but the safe path was good to know.

They skirted along a row of hickory and poplars and into a clearing with the rounded tops of tombstones.

“Is this part of your property?”

“Yep, we got almost fourteen hundred acres. Most of the Wullen family is buried here. Over yonder are markers for my two brothers. Their bodies never made it home from the war. We just got some official letter from the government, but Mama insisted on engraving a stone. Pa has already got his place picked out next to his father. Kind of a big deal to everybody that we all rest in the same place. Don’t know why it matters. Our bones rot just as much here as any place else. But it sure about killed Mama when Otis wouldn’t let us take Helen’s body back home.”

“Maybe it was hard for Otis to let her go.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted to make the old woman mad. Mama never liked him and wasn’t afraid to let him know. Probably felt it was a way to get back at her. Otis was a strange character. Never could figure out what Helen saw in him. But she was restless herself, running from one thing to another. Always seemed to be something she wanted that she couldn’t have.”

A shadow of something significant hung in the air.

Richard grabbed the reins. “Enough of that. We better head to town.”

The wagon rolled through the dusty streets, adding more billows to the clouded air. A barber shop and a dry goods store had propped open their doors with bricks. Clusters of townsfolk strolled along the boardwalk.

Jared eyed their faces. A lawman’s keen senses never rested. Most paid no mind to the wagon, but the few who did stopped and stared. He couldn’t tell if it was he or Richard who caught their attention.

A slender man in a light-colored hat and brown tweed vest leaned against the wall outside the sheriff’s office, his arms folded as he talked with a man and woman. He turned toward the approaching wagon.

Jared tugged on the brim of his hat, but the greeting was not returned.

The gentleman opened the door to the sheriff’s office and disappeared inside.

Richard stopped the wagon outside a shop at the end of town. The wooden shape of a hammer hung as a sign above the door. A short man with sandy brown hair turned as they entered. A boy about Nathan’s age stood near him, his foot pedaling a lathe.

The woodworker motioned for the young boy to stop. When his gaze fell on Richard, he halted for a moment. “What can I do for you today?”

Jared extended his hand. “I’m from out of town and got a busted wheel. Can you help me out? I got the wheel outside.”

“I’m sure I can.” The woodworker pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, removed his round spectacles, and wiped them clean. “But I can’t get to it for a while. Jeremiah and I are working on an order for table and chairs that needs to be done by the end of the week. I can start on it first thing the next morning.”

Jared had hoped he and Mercy could be out of Baxterville in the next two or three days. He needed to tend to his farm.

“You’re welcome to stay with us while you’re waiting.” Richard picked up a weaver’s comb and examined it closely. “I can still use the help.”

“Can you have it ready in a week’s time?” Jared asked.

“Depends on what kind of shape it’s in.” He motioned to the lad. “Go help this gentleman carry it in, and we’ll see what we got.”

Jared followed the boy outside.

Clayton Bonner was on the boardwalk. He glared with beady eyes and an unpleasant expression. “Good afternoon.” The lawman planted his hands on his hips. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It’s a little hot.”

“That’s Texas weather for ya.”

Jared stepped forward.

Bonner moved to block the doorway. “There anything I can help you with?”

Jared pointed to the wheel being carried inside.

“I told you crossing Rim Creek could be treacherous after a hard rain. I hope this doesn’t set you back on your departure.”

“We’ll manage.”

“I assume you’ll be heading for Sheldon as soon as you’re able.”

Jared refused to comment.

Clayton Bonner looked down at his badge. “They made me sheriff now that Kingston’s dead. Just looking out for the community.”

“I can assure you I won’t be a bother.”

“See you got your gun belt on again. Expecting trouble?”

“Nope. But it’s good to be prepared.”

“Glad to hear that. Check your Colt .45 in the next time you come to town. I’d hate to have you locked up with the town drunks.”

You could never lock me up. Jared stepped toward the doorway, and this time Clayton moved.

“Who was that pretty lady with you in the wagon? Did you get yourself remarried?”

“How’d you know I was married before?”

Clayton Bonner’s smile disappeared briefly. Then he smirked. “And you said you was deputy in Sheldon. That ain’t the case no more?”

“Is that a problem?”

“It’s not a problem for me. Heard you up and resigned and surprised everybody. What was that for?”

“Decided I’d rather farm.”

“Well, some people just ain’t cut out for the law. It’s a tough job, not one you can back down from.”

Jared was being goaded and despite his anger, refused to respond.

Richard stepped beside him, his hat held in one hand.

Sheriff Bonner scanned Richard. “How’s the sheep business? Your family gettin’ along all right?”

Richard didn’t speak.

“What’s the matter? Sheep got your tongue?” Clayton laughed at his own joke.

“The newspaper had little to say about the string of bank robberies near Austin. Did they ever find the culprits?”

Clayton Bonner’s face became a blank mask. “I didn’t know Wullens read the paper.” His artificial expression mocked Richard’s sincerity.

“So did they?” asked Richard.

“Did they what?”

“Ever find the thieves?”

The sheriff paused, appearing to be in deep thought. “I believe they did. Baxterville Tribune is a small outfit. They don’t always get things right, and when they do, they’re pretty slow at spreading the word.”

Richard didn’t seem satisfied. He put on his hat and turned to Jared. “Guess we’ll be leaving now.”

“You do that.” Clayton Bonner turned as Jared and Richard strode to the wagon. “Good to see you, Richard. I know your family doesn’t get to town much. Tell them the new sheriff in town wishes them well.”

Richard climbed in the wagon.

Jared placed one foot on the sideboard then froze. The barrel of a rifle glinted on the other side of a building. Jared’s trigger finger twitched and his hand rested on the gun on his hip. Only an inexperienced gunman would be careless enough to expose the tip of his weapon out in the open. “Sheriff,” Jared called. “Who’s the shooter on the other side of the building?”

Richard lowered the reins and looked across the dirt road.

Jared eyed the rooftops of each building. A curtain swayed in an opened, upper window of the tavern.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Across the road. Between the bordello and the outhouse.”

“You saw someone?”

“I saw his barrel.”

The sheriff stood almost straight across from the tavern. “I don’t see nothing. You sure you aren’t imagining things?”

Jared scanned the area again. Nothing stirred.

“How about I go and take a look-see.” Bonner talked louder than necessary. A warning to whoever held the rifle? The sheriff strolled across the street. The sheriff knew he wouldn’t be harmed. The man was too much of a coward to be confident in the face of real danger. But maybe he was just plumb stupid. Or both. Once the sheriff reached the bordello, he pressed his back against the wall and lifted his gun. He shouted to whoever was around the corner to drop his weapon and step forward to be seen. Silence.

Richard’s face had grown pale.

The curtains in the opened window of the tavern stilled.

Clayton Bonner looked at Jared and shook his head. He moved around the corner of the building. Apparently no one there. He placed his gun in his holster and sauntered back across the road.

Whoever it was had escaped being seen. For now. But something in Jared’s gut told him this wouldn’t be the last trouble he’d have with the town of Baxterville.