Garrett hid behind a water tank, his gaze focused on the sod house some thirty feet away. The abode had a windmill, barn, and an assortment of rusty farm equipment. Old man Walters was right; it was Link’s paint, all right. No question. Garrett would recognize the brown-and-white horse anywhere.
The only sign of life was smoke curling from the pipe sticking out like an afterthought on the thatched roof. Garrett pulled out his watch. Where was Barnes? His deputy sheriff should have been here by now. What was taking so long?
The cabin had only one door and one window and Garrett had them both covered. Link wasn’t going anywhere except to jail.
Minutes passed and still no sign of Barnes. Suddenly, the cabin door flew open and Link walked out and headed for his horse.
Garrett stood. “Drop your weapon.”
Link spun around and reached for his gun.
Garrett moved forward. “I said drop it!” he yelled.
“I didn’t mean to kill your b-brother,” Link stammered. “I—I was out of my mind.”
“I said drop your weapon.”
Finally Link did what he was told. His gun hit the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust. “Come on, Garrett.” He shook his hands in the air. “We’ve known each other a long time. I got a family. You put me away, what’s gonna happen to them?”
“You should have thought of that before you entered the courtroom with a loaded gun.”
“I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly. All that was goin’ through my head was that my sister’s killer was goin’ free. I didn’t mean to kill Dan. You know I’ve always had bad aim. I couldn’t shoot my way out of a chicken coop.”
Garrett pulled out his handcuffs with his free hand. “Well, unfortunately, your aim wasn’t bad enough.”
He stepped closer. With lightning speed Link grabbed his gun and they struggled. The handcuffs went flying. Link matched Garrett in height but he was a good fifty pounds heavier. The gun went off with a deafening blast and Garrett reeled back. Time stood still. Vision blurred, he slowly sank to his knees before his head hit the ground.
Mayhem. Confusion . . .
Someone spoke but the words made no sense. Two blue eyes stared at him. How did she get here? “Mary-Jo?” She smiled and faded away. He tried to call her back but his lips wouldn’t move. He blinked but this time it was Deputy Barnes who came into view.
“We got him.” Barnes’s voice sounded muffled. “He tried to get away but I got here just in time.”
Garrett tried to speak, but everything went black.
•••
Mary-Jo sat at her sewing machine smiling to herself as she repaired a rip in Eddie’s shirt. Honestly, she didn’t know what the boy did to his clothes that they were in constant need of repair. Turning the hand crank with her right hand, she guided the fabric beneath the needle with the other. After sewing the seam, she snipped the thread with scissors.
Turning the scissors over, she slipped her finger through one of the gold-handled rings. Turning it to collect the light, she envisioned a gold band instead of the humble tool.
“Does this mean what I think it means, Miss Parker? That I can begin to properly court you?”
The memory made her smile, but thinking about his kiss filled her with unspeakable pleasure. Maybe the third time would be a charm. Oh, God, she prayed. Please don’t let anything happen to Tom!
She laid the shears down and knocked on wood before reaching for another shirt. But just as she started the machine, Eddie burst through the door. Startled, she jumped and the scissors flew to the floor. More bad luck.
“Heavens to Betsy, you near scared me to death.” She reached down, but seeing Eddie’s pale face she promptly forgot the scissors. “Eddie, what is it?”
“Uncle Tom’s been sh-shot.”
“No!” For a moment she sat there, stunned, then she jumped to her feet. Oh, God, please! Not again, not again. At last she found her voice. “Where is he?”
“At Doc Haggerty’s place. Hurry!”
•••
The doctor lived in a two-story brick house just outside of town. Mary-Jo frantically pounded on the door and a round-figured woman quickly ushered them inside. “I’m Mrs. Haggerty. The doctor’s removing the bullet now.”
“Is h-he g-going to die?” Eddie, white-faced and trembling, stammered the words.
His question sent chills down Mary-Jo’s spine. It was bad enough to think the unthinkable without hearing the words aloud. “Your uncle’s very strong.” She spoke to Eddie but she kept her gaze fastened upon the woman’s face, looking for some sign of hope.
Too young to know that death showed no favoritism between the strong and the weak, Eddie accepted her answer as only a child could.
Mrs. Haggerty laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I just made some gingerbread. Come with me. You can be the official taster.”
Eddie hesitated, but Mary-Jo gave him a gentle shove. “Go along. I’ll stay here.”
The doctor’s wife tucked Eddie’s hand in her own. “You’ll find the sheriff right through that door.” She then led Eddie down the hall.
No sooner had the two vanished from sight than Mary-Jo whirled about and reached for the doorknob. With a bracing breath, she charged into the room.
Tom was stretched out on a table, the doctor standing over him. She rushed to his side. He looked pale, his bare chest covered in blood. Nevertheless, he managed a wan smile.
“Oh, Tom . . .” She lifted his hand and held it tight, biting back tears.
“Don’t worry.” His voice sounded strained. “It’ll take more than a little lead ball to keep me down.”
“You’re just lucky you took it in the shoulder,” the doctor said. A bespectacled man with a balding head, he applied gauze to the wound and wrapped a strip of cotton around Tom’s upper torso. “You lost a lot of blood.”
“Will he be all right?” Mary-Jo asked.
“Should be.” After the doctor finished bandaging the wound, he held up a pair of tongs to show her the bullet. “Far as I know, it didn’t do any major damage.”
“Thank God,” she whispered.
“We still have to watch for infection.” The doctor dropped the bullet back into a bowl and set the tongs down. “Lots of rest and some good home cooking and he’ll be good as new.” The doctor washed his hands in a basin and left the room.
She pushed a lock of hair away from Tom’s forehead. “Jumping catfish, you nearly scared the life out of me.”
He squeezed her hand. “Mary-Jo . . . we got him. We got the man who killed Dan.”
She tried to be happy for him. “I’m glad,” she said. It didn’t bring Daniel back, but maybe now Tom would know peace of mind. Maybe they all would.
“If anything happened to you . . . ,” she whispered.
“I’m fine. Can’t you see?”
She laid her head on his good shoulder and closed her eyes. He was fine now, but what about next time? And the time after that?
The door flew open and Eddie ran into the room. “Uncle Tom!”
Not even the joy on Eddie’s face upon seeing his uncle could chase away her worry.
•••
For the next two days, Mary-Jo took care of Tom. He slept on the couch and she plied him with homemade soup and stew. Every morning she cleaned his wound and changed his bandage.
It did her heart good to watch him and Eddie grow close. He helped Eddie with his schoolwork and the two spent hours playing draughts and dominoes.
Deputy Sheriff Barnes stopped by daily to report on the latest town happenings. After one such visit she walked into the parlor to find Tom up and dressed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To work.”
“But the doctor said—”
“Someone stole a bunch of horses from the Dobson farm. I’ve got to check it out.”
With dismay, she watched him buckle his holster. “It’s so soon. You hardly have your strength back.”
“I’ll take it easy.”
“But . . .”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s my job.” Without another word, he left.
It was late by the time he arrived home and Eddie was already asleep. Tom walked into the house, took one look at her carpetbag and sewing machine by the door, and stopped.
“What’s this?” His gaze sharpened. “Mary-Jo?”
Mary-Jo lifted her chin and forced herself to say the well-rehearsed words. “I’m going back to Georgia.”