Jacob woke up the next morning with a long list of things he needed to do. With Christmas a few days away, there was only so much time to get all the chores and errands done that needed doing. He had told his landlady that he’d take care of killing the goose for her, for example. That would be a project itself.
And then after hearing the details about Ben Wilbourne’s arrest from Pierce, Jacob had a nagging feeling something was off about that. He couldn’t say what, but digging into that case a bit more got moved to the top of his list of things to do.
He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that the marshal had everything under control and the boy surely could handle his self. But that persistent feeling of unease stuck with him all night. It distracted him enough during his poker game with Ed the night before, that his friend flat out refused to play with him anymore after taking too much of his money.
And now, in the bright light of a December morning, Jacob knew he would need to at least go inquire about the boy or he’d never have any rest. He had plans to meet Bonnie for dinner, so wanted to get his own distractions taken care of before then.
After knocking on the door to the marshal’s office, Jacob let himself in. He was surprised to see that the marshal was not alone this early in the morning.
Pastor Ambrose’s face lit up at the sight of Jacob walking through the door.
“Pastor,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No, no, Payne,” the marshal said, standing to greet him. “Pastor Ambrose is here to talk to our prisoner. You’re not interrupting anything.”
“Yes, I had heard something about that,” Jacob said. “Pierce told me.”
Marshal Santos rolled his eyes as the pastor laughed.
“I should have guessed. That man runs his mouth more than my wife does.”
“Well, he’s only hurting himself, isn’t he?” the pastor pointed out. “Can’t be good for his business if he gets the reputation for being a talker.”
“That’s true,” Jacob said. “That’s why I never say a dang thing.”
This time the marshal laughed. “And that’s why you’re here, is it, Payne? To just stand quietly in the corner?”
“All right. I get it. I’m guilty. I admit I have some questions for you.”
“Of course. Let me just take the pastor here back and I’ll be right with you.”
The two men left Jacob alone in the office as they headed back to where the small collection of jail cells waited. Listening hard, Jacob determined that the cells seemed to be mostly full. That made sense as it had been several weeks since the circuit judge had been around these parts. They were expecting him back any day, and all these prisoners would have to stand trial.
Jacob was seated where the pastor had been, in the chair in front of the desk, when the marshal returned.
“What can I do for you, Payne? I got a stack of wanted bulletins over there, but I thought you told me you weren’t interested till after the holidays.”
“I did. I’m not. I just … Truthfully, Marshal, I’m not rightly sure what I’m doing here. I spoke to Clifford Pierce last night and he told me about a boy that has been arrested and something about his story didn’t sit right with me.”
“A boy?” The marshal frowned. “Well, the youngest man I got in here is Benjamin Wilbourne who robbed the telegraph office. But he’s not any boy. He’s fifteen. That’s plenty old to be held accountable for his actions.”
“You’re right. That’s true.” Jacob hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He had never directly challenged the marshal before.
“So, tell me what Pierce said that’s got you so worried, then.”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I understand that you found a button and a cigarette butt at the scene of the robbery.”
“That’s right.”
“And did anyone see Benjamin or … did you find the cash that he stole?”
“Not yet. I aim to go over to the general store to look through his things later today.”
Jacob hesitated only a moment before volunteering. “I’ll help, if you like.”
The marshal narrowed his eyes at him, scrutinizing. “What’s your angle, Payne? I didn’t expect to see you at all for another week and now you’re volunteering to investigate a case that’s already solved?”
“I just … Well, there’s something about all of this that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m worried that we may have the wrong man. Everything I know about Benjamin Wilbourne tells me he never would have done something like this.”
“You don’t trust me, Payne?” the marshal said. While his words were simply inquiring, his tone was hard. Jacob could tell that he had struck a nerve in the other man.
“It’s not that, Marshal. I mean no disrespect. Call it a gut feeling, if you want, but something about this doesn’t seem right. I hope I’m wrong. I hope it was just my bias against Pierce that makes me feel like he was spouting nonsense. But I can’t focus on anything else until I at least have a look.”
The marshal clenched his jaw, and turned away. There were a few shelves lining the wall behind his desk, and Jacob watched him cross and pick up a small animal skull absentmindedly before setting it down again.
“You know I ought to have you horse-whipped for even suggesting that the wrong man is behind bars, don’t you?”
“I’m not doing that, Marshal. My apologies if it seems like—”
“You are doing that. I’ve known you how long now? A year? In all that time, in all the men we’ve captured together, you’ve never once given me trouble. But now, you hear about the case secondhand and assume because you didn’t capture the man yourself that the wrong man is behind bars.”
“Marshal, I swear—”
“I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Payne. In all this time we’ve never once come close to disagreeing. But now you gotta pull this stunt right at the holidays.”
Jacob kept his mouth shut this time; he had learned that there wasn’t any use arguing with the marshal. He could have Jacob thrown in one of those cells himself.
The marshal sighed, still eyeing the bounty hunter critically.
“I don’t like this. You know that. I don’t like it one bit, but … Well, I’d be a poor marshal if I didn’t trust the men I know to be good ones. I’m going to indulge you.”
Jacob let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you.”
“It might just be giving you enough rope to hang yourself, but …” He shrugged. “I believe that you want to be wrong and you’ll do the right thing. Just know”—he pointed his finger in Jacob’s face—“I don’t intend to help you a whit. This is your problem to solve, if in fact there is a problem.”
“I understand. Can I talk to him?”
“As soon as the pastor is done in there. Wilbourne asked for him as soon as I came in this morning. I’m hoping he’s making a confession we can use. The judge is supposed to be here soon and the more evidence I have to convict the better.”
Jacob nodded. Just a couple days. That’s all the time he had to find out what he needed to find out. And a good chunk of that time was already spoken for; he wasn’t about to cancel plans with Bonnie Loft for a potential wild goose chase like this.
“You won’t regret it, Marshal. I promise I just want to ease my own mind a bit. I expect to be wrong.”
Marshal Santos snorted in disbelief. “When’s the last time you were wrong?”