Nineteen

Tom and Darrell trotted their horses past the jail where Richard and his accomplices awaited the judge. A crowd of men lounged next to the hitching rails and on the porch. Several sat whittling on weathered scraps of wood. The muted conversation of the men teased Tom as he guided his mount over and pulled up in front of the hotel. He glanced over his shoulder and snickered as he watched an old man hurl a foul smelling substance at the jail window. The glass bottle smashed and the liquid ran down the windowpane in slow, discolored rivulets. “Worthless polecat. Ye deserve to hang!” the old drunkard cackled before shuffling over to his tethered mule.

Tom dismounted and tethered his mount in place, his gaze on his brother. Darrell sat his horse easily, reins in hand. “What time is that stage due in?” Tom asked. He pulled his watch from his vest pocket to check the time and glanced at Darrell as the other man dismounted.

Darrell sighed, a pitiful sound that struck Tom as the most lonesome sound he’d ever heard. “Ain’t sure, could be the next stage or could even be longer. It’s hard to say, brother.”

Steadily, a trickle of men and women began to collect on the porch of the rooming house. With each passing breath more and more people showed up. Wagons and horses cluttered the sides of the street as families came into watch the arrival of the circuit judge.

Tom doubted if any of the growing crowd realized that Mortimer Snoose was a month early for his scheduled visit. No, this was something big, something that needed witnessing. If only the reason behind it were different.

Darrell’s gaze slipped past the growing crowd and Tom to the house at the end of the street. Tom followed his brother’s gaze and smiled. Elizabeth Longley and her two boys stood proudly on her front porch. Dressed in black with a matching veil, she looked like a woman in mourning, but the set of her shoulders revealed the color of her clothing was more of a sign of respect than anything. After securing her door, she gathered her skirts and hurried down the trio of steps and out onto the street. The deputy Roy had sent over sat on her front stoop, his rifle in his lap. He nodded as she passed but kept his gaze on the street.

His tone thick with longing, Darrell whispered, “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is,” Tom agreed. Elizabeth's delicate features were certainly lovely in a classic sense—no sane man could deny her charms. At first glance, Rylee was perhaps not as pretty as her friend. But there was something about her—an essence he'd come to regard as purely Rylee, as wild and untamed as the land itself—that he found infinitely more beautiful. He swallowed at the thought of Rylee and the fresh battery of bruises and wounds that she’d been given. The sickening memory of his uncle kicking her mercilessly against the dresser in his room stirred and he forced the images from his mind.

Darrell shifted impatiently next to him and he shot his brother a telling look. “Why don’t you go see if she wants to wait with us?”

“I’ll be right back.” Darrell darted off down the street, a look of pleasure and anticipation in his eyes.

Tom shook his head, leaned against the hitching post and crossed his arms over his chest. Wagons loaded with supplies rolled past him while men, women and children bustled along, undisturbed by the violence of the untamed country, only focusing on the splendor and the wealth that they could accumulate in their ever-present quest for more. He caught the pitying looks from some, the speculative glares from others and shifted. What did it matter what the fine people of Clearwater thought? They didn’t live with the harsh realities that he did.

“You look pensive.”

Tom jerked and turned his head. “Hey, Doc, you going somewhere?”

“Just headed out to check on Rylee. How’s she doing?”

“Cries a lot,” Tom answered, his gaze shifting to rest on his brother who was busy trying to charm Mrs. Longley. “Wakes up screaming at all hours, with good reason, I reckon. Sally's staying in the room with her. You know, so she’s not alone.”

“How about you?” Doc Barnes shifted his black medical bag from one hand to the other, his gaze astute as he swept it over Tom’s figure. “How are you doing?”

Tom returned his assessing stare before he straightened and offered a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t go too far.”

Doc nodded. “She’s stronger than she looks. She’ll pull through.”

“That ain’t the point.” Tom instantly regretted his harsh tone. He struggled to rein in the anger and offer a more level explanation. “That thing is family… I should have seen it, recognized that he wasn’t…” He gestured to the jail where Roy was currently trying to shoo off the loitering men.

“No, you can’t blame yourself. I’m sure Rylee doesn’t. You had no way of knowing your uncle had—”

“You don’t understand.” Tom rubbed at the dull ache in his temples. Too many sleepless nights and fear had given him a doozy of a headache. Hopefully, with the arrival of the judge, things would ease and he’d be able to at last close his eyes without seeing Rylee’s stricken face. “He’s never liked her. Even when she and I were children, there was something about her he was always picking at. Told me once, that she wasn’t one of us, she was beneath the Duncan family. I should have known something—”

“Now you listen to me,” Doc Barnes interrupted. “Richard Duncan is a very sick man. He’s not thinking clearly, never has. I wouldn’t even blame it on the whiskey. He just doesn’t have a decent bone in his body. Don’t go putting yourself in the same league as that man, you ain’t. Hell, anyone in this town can see how much you care about her, and I’m sure that she knows that as well. Now, I’m off to see her. I ‘spect she’s gonna be up and around in no time. Rylee Parys is a lot stronger than most women I've met, or men, for that matter.”

Tom smiled as the town’s doctor stalked away. His words had been kind, but Tom couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong. How could he have been so blind as to miss the most obvious thing? It struck him that if Darrell had been fingered, if he’d gone to Roy with his suspicions, Richard would have allowed the farce to continue. The older man would have let his nephew dangle for his crimes. Tom shuddered at the thought and glanced up the road, hoping to see the trail of dust that would herald the impending arrival of the stagecoach.

Relief hit him like a brick when he saw the faint cloud in the distance and he straightened, his hands going into his jean pockets. He watched as the six-up galloped closer with each stride until they rounded the last building before town and thundered to a stop a few inches from his booted toes.

“Howdy, Tom, you expecting someone?” the driver, a lean, gaunt looking fellow called as he looped the reins around the brake handle.

“Sorta.” Tom leaned toward the back of the stage as the doors opened and watched as a pretty girl of about sixteen stepped out followed by a short, squat little man with beady eyes and spectacles. His black suit made Tom’s skin itch just looking at him. The man pulled off a dark bowler hat and knocked the dust off with a handkerchief, a self-important air about him as he appraised the quaint town and the gathered citizens come to watch his arrival.

“Judge Snoose?” Tom stepped forward, hand outstretched to greet the man.

“Yes, yes, I am. And you are?” Cold and distant the man eyed him for a moment before taking his hand and giving it two abrupt pumps.

“Tom Duncan.” He smiled faintly and glanced around. “Uh, do you have some luggage?”

“Here ya go, Tom.” The driver handed down a worn, faded valise.

“Thanks.” Tom took the bag and turned to the judge. “You want me to show you to the hotel?”

“I’d rather speak to the accused for a moment. Get a feel for their ideals.” Judge Snoose straightened his coat. “However, if you’d be so kind as to take my luggage to the hotel, I would be most grateful.”

Tom nodded. “Jail’s over there. Marshal Jackson’s got ‘em under lock and key.” He pointed up the street to where Roy stood leaning on the support post of the jail’s porch. He swallowed against the rising tide of fury and turned away. Roy had banned him from the jail until such a time as the prisoners were either gone or in court.

“Thank you.” Judge Snoose strode away after an appraising moment, leaving Tom standing in the middle of the street with his valise. His gaze swept the crowd as they milled about. Whispers and hints of their conversations drifted to him. As much as he loathed the public spectacle that this was going to be, he wanted this over with. Tom glanced down at the valise in his hand and swore.

“That the judge?” The soft, delicate tone drew his attention and Tom turned to smile tightly at Elizabeth Longley.

“Yeah, that’s the good judge. He’s gone over to talk to Richard and the other prisoner.” Tom shifted the valise in his grasp. “I’ll take his bag over to the hotel. I imagine the trial’s going to start soon.”

“Roy said the judge always likes to start it within a few days. If he doesn’t start it tonight, he’ll start it first thing in the morning.” Darrell smiled and offered his arm to Elizabeth. She bristled for a moment before offering a small smile and slipping her hand into place. “I wonder if we should tell Rylee that the trial’s going to start?”

“No.” Tom shook his head and stepped back out of the way of a buggy before he hopped over a rut and continued to the hotel, his brother, Elizabeth and her two boys hot on his heels. “She needs time to heal. If she’s needed, I’ll bring her into town. Until then, we’ll keep an ear to the ground.”

“I hope he hangs,” Elizabeth stated calmly, her voice cold, deadpan as though she were discussing a tidbit from Sunday’s sermon and not a man’s life or, rather, death. “What he did was reprehensible and—”

“No more than I do,” Tom acknowledged as they stepped into the cool interior of the hotel’s lobby. “I doubt if things will ever be the same after this. I can’t help the resentment that I feel.” He gave a sarcastic snicker. “But Roy won’t give me a few minutes alone with him, so I’ll have to wait for the judge to set a sentence.”

“Why don’t you ride back to the house?” Darrell suggested. A concerned look filtered across his face. “I know you’d rather be by Rylee’s side than stuck in town waiting to hear what the judge is going to do.”

“I may just do that,” Tom agreed. “Send word as soon as you hear anything and if the judge wants to talk to Rylee or myself, bring him out to the ranch.”

Darrell nodded and took the worn valise as Tom tipped his hat to Elizabeth and turned to vanish out the door.

~ * ~

Rylee watched Sally putter around the room with a quiet dedication. She’d awakened to find the older woman knitting in the rocking chair, pale sunlight spilling over the rugs. With trembling fingers, Rylee plucked at the blanket. Her gaze fell on the myriad of colors in the bruises on her hand and she wiggled the fingers. A hiss of pain escaped her lips. The knowledge that she’d lost a good bit of usage in that hand irritated her, but it could be worse.

“How are you holding up?” Sally glanced at her with an easy, friendly smile on her face. “You haven’t touched your soup.”

“Not really hungry.” Rylee shrugged and wished she hadn’t. The broken ribs screamed in agony and spots danced before her eyes. Silent, unwanted tears pooled and fell and she pinched her lips together until they went numb.

“Would it help to talk about it?” Sally sank down onto the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. “You’ve suffered a great deal in a very short period of time.”

“Nothing to say,” Rylee choked out past the lump in her throat. “I gambled and lost. What more is there? Should have learned that lesson years ago, but I guess it’s a hard one to stick.”

“Now, child, you don’t believe that, do you?” Incredulous, Sally gaped at her. “Why, you and I both know that Tom’s doing all he can for you—”

“Sure he is, but only because it was his family that did this. He isn’t ruled by some grand notion. He’s swimming in guilt, in pity. Only difference is that we’re not thirteen, and the stakes are a bit more costly.” She waved a hand at her bruised face, the stark white bandage around her hand a brutal reminder. “I hate that I’ve put him in this position. Hate that he sees me as some responsibility.”

“What makes you say such a thing?”

“Tom deserves to be happy, to have everything, and I’m only in the way. If I thought it was possible I’d go stay at the hotel, but I can’t even walk across the room. I’m a bitter reminder, Sally, of something he never deserved. Hell of a thing to walk back into when you’ve just arrived home, isn’t it?”

“You’re not in the way, Rylee. Tom cares about you same as you care about him. You’ve always cared about him, even when you were younger. I’ve watched for years as the two of you dance around whatever’s between you. This isn’t going to change anything, not for you or Tom.”

“He shouldn’t have to choose.” Rylee shook her head slowly. “I won’t ask him to pick one or the other. Blood or an affair, hmm it’s not really a choice. I’m not stupid, Sally, nothing has changed. We’re grown up but we’re still just playing games.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Rylee turned her head and stared out the window. Pain tore through her, worse than any broken bone could ever feel. “I have to do something. I just don’t know what.”

“Child, don’t go doing something foolish.” Sally patted her knee and rose to adjust the curtains. “Why don’t you get some more rest? If you won’t eat, rest will do you a world of good.”

Rylee smiled tightly and eased down the bed. She closed her eyes as Sally tucked her in and prayed for sleep to claim her. The sound of Sally puttering around the room filled her head a few moments before the older woman vanished into the hallway. The quiet click of the door closing had Rylee opening her eyes. Through the veil of tears she stared at the wall, her body ached as much as her heart did. She had to make a decision, and fast. There was no way she could continue to hurt Tom with the burden of caring for her. It was better to have a clean break, to rid him of her presence. If only she had the strength to leave.

A soft tap on the door drew her attention as it swung open and Tom stepped inside. His hair was in disarray and he had a layer of dust on his shoulders and hat. “Hey,” he whispered as he crossed the room to hunker down next to the bed. He lightly stroked her shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore,” she replied, amazed that her voice didn’t tremble with the force of her emotions. “Sally’s been trying to feed me soup all day. Finally gave up a little while ago. Just not hungry.”

Tom smiled. “Yeah, she does that. Figures it’s good for the body and soul. Judge arrived.”

“Yeah?”

“Seems like a straight forward, no nonsense kinda man. He’ll probably have the trial soon, but you don’t need to worry about that right now. I’m so sorry about this, Rylee.” Tom glanced down, his fingers plucking at the frayed spot on his jeans. “I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t. I never believed that he would go so far as to—”

“Don’t.” Rylee pressed a finger to his lips. “You didn’t do this, Tom. I did. I let my stupid pride and my selfishness blind me to wanting things that I had no business having. Pa’d kick my behind for my impudence.”

“You didn’t do anything but try to earn a living,” Tom protested.

“You know that as well as I do. That ranch is yours. It’s been in your family for generations.”

“And you feel guilty because he’s your uncle. You came home only to find yourself stuck between me and your kin,” Rylee whispered sadly. “Don’t. It doesn’t change anything. It won’t repair what was broken or bring back what was lost.”

Tom straightened, a slight frown puckering his brow as he kicked off his boots. Rylee watched him pull his shirt from his jeans and strip down to the cotton drawers he wore before he crawled onto the bed and cuddled his hard body against her. The warmth of his skin seeped through the thin cotton of her nightdress, oozing into her pores with a steady lethargy. She sighed as he nuzzled into the hair at her nape, his lips brushing a soft kiss there. The show of affection was a painful reminder of her own foolish heart’s wishes, she longed to push him away but another part of her wanted to curl into him and never let go.

Strong and warm, his arms tenderly encircled her, mindful of her still healing injuries. His index finger traced an idle pattern below her breasts. The soft pant of his breathing filled the silence. Each exhale stirred her hair at her temple, soothing her unsteady nerves until she slipped into a light sleep. Shadows grew, spreading across the faded pattern of the rug, tickling at the edge of awareness for both of them. Long after the shadows had covered the room, Rylee lay between sleep and wakefulness, her mind mired with guilt and pain.