CHAPTER 37

Gert stood flattened against the outside wall of the saloon beside the front window. She heard Morrell’s icy words. She moved cautiously so she could see through the dusty glass.

Morrell stood holding Libby’s revolver aimed at Isabel. To Gert’s amazement, Libby was pawing in her French handbag, no doubt going for her pistol. The dark-haired saloon girl, Flora, saw her and reached for the shotgun on the bar. Libby would be too late. And would she even pull the trigger?

Gert put the muzzle of the mayor’s rifle up, almost touching the glass, and sighted.

Morrell slowly and deliberately pulled back the Peacemaker’s hammer. “Last chance to come along nicely, Miss Fennel.”

As Libby tugged out her Smith & Wesson, Flora hefted the shotgun and yelled, “Drop it, lady! Drop it now, or I’ll shoot!”

As Morrell whirled toward Libby, Opal slung one of the bags she’d brought downstairs at Flora.

A gunshot exploded inside the saloon. Flora staggered and crashed into Goldie. Libby raised her pistol as Morrell caught his balance and focused his aim on her.

Gert aimed just a little left of his buttons and squeezed the trigger.

The column of men rode back into town just before dawn. Weary to the bone, Ethan drooped in the saddle. Several of the ranchers had dropped out and headed for home. Hoss plodded lethargically along beside Scout. Hiram sat on his back, swaying a little with Hoss’s gait.

The street was quiet, and all the buildings on the north end were dark. Even the Nugget was silent.

“I wonder if the mayor’s still alive,” Ethan said.

Hiram nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

Ethan pulled gently on the reins and turned Scout. The other men moved their horses up close to him. “Thank you all for trying. I’m going to catch a few hours’ sleep, and I suggest you do the same. I’ll head out again around noon and see if I can find anything we missed in the dark. Anyone who wants to join me, come to the jail then.”

As the men said good night to each other, Hiram stiffened in his saddle. “Ethan, look.”

“Hmm?”

Hiram pointed toward the Nugget.

“What is it?”

Hiram didn’t answer, so Ethan studied the building’s facade. The first rays of sunlight hit the front window to the right of the door, but the window on the left was a dull, dark hole.

“Someone took out the window.” Ethan stared at it. “Must have gotten wild last night after we left.”

“Sheriff, there’s a light on at the jailhouse,” Augie Moore called.

Ethan swung around to look toward the jail. Sure enough, a soft glow outlined the small window. Down the street, a horse neighed, and he stared at it for a good five seconds before he was sure his exhausted brain told him the truth. He turned and scanned the posse for Ralph Storrey.

“Ralph, looks like your horse is tied up about where you left it last night.”

Ralph rode forward on his borrowed horse and stared toward the telegraph office. He put his heels to his mount’s sides and trotted down the street toward the pinto.

Hiram cocked an eyebrow at Ethan. “What do you think’s going on?”

“I dunno. But I intend to find out who’s in my office.”

Ethan swung down and tossed Scout’s reins to Hiram. His back and legs were stiff with fatigue. He hadn’t spent all night in the saddle since the last war. He limped to the walk before the jail, limbering up a little with each step. By the time he reached the door, he walked normally. He pulled his pistol from its holster and pushed the door open.

Trudy.

She sat slumped in his chair with her head cradled on her arms atop the desk. A rifle lay before her on the desktop, with the jail cell key beside it. The kerosene lamp burned low on its hook above her, casting a shimmer on her hair. As he crossed the threshold, she flinched, then sat up, blinking.

“Well! Sheriff Chapman.” She stood with a crooked smile.

He walked over to her and stood looking down into her soft blue gray eyes. “Hey, Trudy.” He wished more than anything that he had good news. He wanted to tell her they’d caught the killer, and that she and all the people in Fergus could feel safe now. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. We rode all night, but we lost him. Lost him early. He’s just … gone.”

A slow, shaky smile curved her lips. She put her hand up to his stubbly cheek. “You may have lost him, Ethan, but we found him.”

“What?” He eyed her cautiously. “What happened? I saw Ralph’s horse tied up, and the broken window at the Nugget.”

“Your killer is lying on the floor over there beside the bar. It’s Jamin.”

Ethan drew in a slow breath. “Jamin Morrell.”

Trudy nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

A riot of questions sprang to his mind. He caught her to him and held her in his arms. “Trudy, Trudy. Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She sneaked her arms around his waist, and he lowered his cheek to rest on top of her head.

In the shadows, a throat was cleared. Ethan straightened and stepped away from her, peering toward the jail cell.

“Oh, and the Ladies’ Shooting Club brought you a couple of prisoners,” Trudy said.

He walked over to the cell door and gazed in at the two girls from the Nugget. The dark-haired one sat on the edge of the bunk, glaring daggers at him. The light-haired one—Opal, wasn’t it?—stood with her arms folded and a put-upon air.

“You going to let us out of here, Sheriff? I helped them get their friends away from the boss.”

Trudy came softly over and stood beside him. “We disarmed them and locked them up for you to deal with. I don’t know how big their part was in the crimes, but they were helping Morrell get ready to leave. He was going to take Isabel, Libby, and Goldie with him.”

“Take them where?”

“California, apparently. He planned to make Libby empty her bank account for him in Boise first. He was going to make them work in his new saloon. But Isabel refused to go, and he was going to shoot her.” Trudy’s voice cracked. “Ethan, I’m so glad you’re home.”

He turned and folded her in his arms again, ignoring the two women observing. She sobbed and hung on to him. “Sweet Trudy,” he said. “I’m going to have to hear the whole story, but right now, we’d best go tell your brother you’re all right.”

“Oh, if he’s gone home, he’ll know.” Trudy lifted her head and swiped at her eyes. “Pan Rideout’s in his bed.”

“What?”

“Jamin shot him, too.”

“Eth?” Hiram stood in the doorway. “Well, hi, Gert. Everything all right?”

“Why don’t you step outside with me and Hiram?” Ethan said to her. He kept one arm firmly about her waist as they walked to the door and out to where Scout and Hoss were hitched. The rest of the men had scattered to their homes or gone to the mayor’s house for their wives. The street was quiet once again.

“The ladies caught the killer,” Ethan told his friend.

“I peeked through the Nugget window,” Hiram admitted. “That your shooting, Gert?”

Her eyes clouded. “Afraid so. With the mayor’s rifle. It wasn’t my first choice, but Morrell would have killed Libby.” She gritted her teeth and looked forlornly at her brother. “It wasn’t such a good idea to confront him like I did.”

Hiram nodded soberly. “The mayor going to make it?”

“We think so, and Pan Rideout is, too, but they’ll both be laid up awhile. He’s over to our house, Hiram.”

“What happened to him?”

“He got in Morrell’s way.”

Hiram stepped closer and touched her shoulder. “You gonna be all right?”

She nodded and sniffed. “Yes, but I wouldn’t want to go through last night again. Annie did wonders with the patients, but I’d be more hopeful if we had a doctor.”

“Morrell told me last week he’d written some letters and hoped we’d get a physician to move here soon,” Ethan said.

“Oh, and here we are patching up the people he shot while we wait.”

Hiram said, “Well, he got us a good preacher.”

“True. And do you know why he did it?” She looked from him to Ethan.

They both shook their heads.

“He wanted to be a big shot in town, like Cyrus and the mayor. But it wasn’t enough. People still didn’t respect him, even though he’d tried to act like a pillar of the community.” Her shoulders drooped for a moment.

Ethan studied her tear-streaked face. She must feel as appalled as he had after his first battle against the Bannock. Maybe they could talk about his war experience after all. They might even be able to comfort each other. He tightened his hold on her just a little, and she looked up.

“You fellows must be hungry,” she said. “Come on. I’ll make some flapjacks.”

“What about the prisoners?” Ethan asked.

“Prisoners?” Hiram’s eyes widened as he looked at his sister once more.

She chuckled. “I’ll send Deputy Shepard over to keep an eye on them while you have breakfast.”