Chapter Twenty-Three

Jim didn’t like being left behind, but Scott refused to let him lead the way to the storage shed. The man was suddenly protective now. What a difference a few hours could make.

Yesterday Jim had remained locked in the cell with a corpse until Scott came back to drag both bodies away. Together they’d cleaned up the mess in the two cells. Jim had spent the night terrified and feeling completely defenseless. If someone decided to shoot him too, there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. It had been the bleakest night of his life. Wrapped in the thin blanket on the narrow cot, he’d tried to focus on memories of making love to Catherine rather than picturing dead men or gunmen in the dark. But still he’d felt utterly frightened and alone and feared he’d be locked up for life.

In the morning, Scott had brought him a bowl of oatmeal. A little later, Sheriff Tate came back to stare at him like he was a caged animal, said something to the deputy and left. Another long spell passed. Jim couldn’t hold his piss anymore and used the bucket in the corner while staring at the spot where the skinny man’s body had lain. He guessed what might happen next. Imprisonment or hanging for a crime he hadn’t committed, or getting shot by one of Karak’s men to ensure his silence. The best scenario he could imagine was being released for lack of proof and continuing to work for Karak since he feared him too much to quit. How had he allowed himself to get involved with a cold-blooded killer? He should have heeded Murdoch’s advice to steer clear of him.

Then, as Jim counted the bars of the cell and the spider webs in the corners, Catherine had suddenly appeared in the doorway like a shining angel in the dingy room. She’d walked straight to him, covering his hands with hers on the bars even though Scott watched from the doorway. Her eyes glittered with tears, telling him how much she cared for him.

Shockingly, Scott released him and left them alone together. Holding Catherine in his embrace was the best thing he’d ever felt. Her lily perfume smelled like heaven after the stench in his cell.

When she’d questioned him about Karak, Jim could almost feel fate seesawing back and forth. There were moments in a man’s life when his future could go in several different directions depending on his choice. He’d experienced such a moment a few weeks after his mother died when he’d decided to stay in Broughton rather than taking a job shoveling coal on a locomotive. Working for the railroad would’ve taken him all over the country, maybe opened new and better opportunities, but he’d chosen familiarity and safety.

Deciding to approach Rasmussen with his proposal to buy into the livery had been another pivotal moment. Daring to kiss Catherine had set a new course for his life, and taking the job with Karak had sent it careening in another direction. Now he must decide if he was brave enough to betray the most powerful man in town. By remaining loyal and pretending to know nothing, he might gain Karak’s confidence and even his protection. He might be rewarded with more money than he’d ever dreamed of having. To cross the dangerous man could end in death or being forced to flee town.

Catherine looked at him expectantly with her guileless blue eyes and he knew he really had no choice. He would tell her the truth and take whatever that road led to. Karak couldn’t be allowed to get away with stealing, burning out farmers, or killing people, even if they were scum.

After Jim shared everything he knew, Catherine and Scott began arguing about what should be done, forgetting his presence and treating him as if his opinion didn’t matter. The deputy going off on his own with no backup was likely to get Scott shot. But Scott refused Jim’s offer to help and now he was being left behind as if he couldn’t possibly be of any use.

“Come with me,” Catherine said. “I’m taking you to the Albrights’ until this is over.”

Feeling frustrated and weak, Jim went with her. As they walked through town, he searched the street for anyone who might be following them. Maybe Karak didn’t know he’d been jailed, but if he did, he might be keeping watch on his newest employee. Jim was ready to push Catherine to the ground if he caught sight of anyone aiming a gun. His body vibrated with energy, blood rushing through his veins and his heart racing.

They made it to the Albrights’ home without incident, although a few people on the street stared as they passed. When the door closed behind them and they were safely inside, Jim breathed a sigh of relief. He gazed around the front hall. He’d never been in such a fine house in his life. He wasn’t a person whom people invited into their homes.

In the hallway was an oval looking glass in an ornate frame with an intricately carved stand beneath it. Portraits hung against green and white striped wallpaper. A flowered carpet covered most of the wood floor, and overhead was a chandelier with sparkling pendants. The living and dining rooms also had colorful carpets and fancy furniture from what he glimpsed of them through the archways on either side.

Jim absorbed all of this in a quick scan before Mrs. Albright steamed down the hallway toward them. Her lips moved too fast to read, but her body told him she was frantic with fear about something. She barely glanced at Jim before yammering at Catherine, illustrating her words with big gestures.

Catherine put a calming hand on her arm and said something. Meanwhile, Mr. Albright joined them. He looked worried too, but not nearly as overcome with emotion as his wife.

Jim focused on the lips and pieced together that they were talking about Jennie. It seemed she was in some type of trouble. She was a nice girl and he hoped she was all right.

His attention wandered from the conversation he couldn’t quite follow. He looked out the window beside the front door to see if anyone was lurking nearby, but the street was clear.

Catherine took his arm, pulled him forward and explained his presence to the Albrights. He smiled stiffly, knowing that if Mrs. Albright weren’t so distraught about her daughter she’d probably be staring at him like he was dog vomit. As it was, she nodded distractedly. Catherine tugged his arm, leading him into the living room.

He sat on a sofa, which was hard and covered with shiny, flowery material. He perched on the edge and stroked the smooth upholstery, tracing one of the flowers. Catherine walked to the fireplace and back, arms folded, nervous. He wished she’d sit too. He wondered what she’d told the Albrights about him, and how she felt about him withholding the truth about the fire for so long. If he’d told someone sooner those men might have been in jail and Catherine never would have been assaulted.

Jim pointed toward the front hall where Mr. Albright was putting on his coat while his wife stood and talked at him. “What happened?” he signed.

“Jennie and Ned ran away together. They took a horse and buggy from the livery and went to Hastings. Maybe to get married.”

“Love?”

Catherine smiled, but shook her head as she signed back. “Yes. Love. But Jennie is too young.”

“Why?” Sometimes he didn’t understand the way people thought. If the girl and boy loved each other, what was the problem?

“Her parents want her home.” She waved a hand as if it was too difficult to explain and changed the subject. “You must be hungry. Stay here. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

She started to walk away, and Jim jumped up to follow. He didn’t want to be left alone here in the Albrights’ fancy house.

The kitchen was clean and orderly, nothing like the chaotic kitchen at the Crystal. Jim leaned against the counter, staying out of Catherine’s way as she moved around the room, pulling cold meat and cheese from the icebox and lighting one of the gas rings on the stove to heat the kettle. As he watched her, he imagined what it would be like to share a home and have her prepare meals for him every day like wives did for husbands. He banished the foolish thought from his head. Just because they’d made love once didn’t mean she’d ever consider sharing her entire life with him. Still, it must have meant something to her. He must mean something to her.

She stopped in the middle of the room, a plate in one hand, a dish of coleslaw in the other, and looked at him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Good. You?”

“Afraid. Worried.” She set the dishes on the counter and walked over to him.

He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to hug her in Mrs. Albright’s kitchen where they might be interrupted at any moment, but he did it anyway. He pulled her close and rested his cheek against her hair. She always smelled so good, like flowers, but also the scent of her own body all feminine and warm. The memory of her musky taste and the feel of her pussy under his tongue made his cock harden. How he wanted to taste her again.

Jim released her reluctantly, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her gently away. This wasn’t the time or place for being close as much as he might long for it. He gazed into her eyes for a moment then she returned to fixing him a plate.

Suddenly Mrs. Albright plowed through the kitchen door like a steam locomotive. She glanced at him, then turned her back on him and spoke to Catherine.

Catherine nodded and answered while continuing to prepare the food. She set the plate on the small kitchen table and ushered Jim into the chair.

He sat, feeling self-conscious about being the only one eating, especially since the Albright woman would clearly rather have him out of her house. But his stomach didn’t have such qualms. One bite of the cold turkey and it clamored for more. He concentrated on eating the meat, coleslaw, fruit and bread, all so fresh and delicious compared to the tinned foods he usually ate.

Catherine set a mug of steaming coffee in front of him, and he smiled up at her. He wished their hostess would leave so he could have Catherine to himself, but Catherine poured cups of coffee for herself and Mrs. Albright and the two women stood at the counter talking.

Jim had just finished scraping the last bite from his plate when both women looked toward the door. Mrs. Albright set down her cup and rushed from the room.

Catherine turned to Jim. “It sounds like Mr. Albright is back.”

She motioned him to stay, and left the kitchen. He rinsed off his empty plate, utensils and mug under the hand pump in the sink, and stood feeling out of place and wondering how Nathan Scott was doing. The man was a fool to take such a risk. He should have accepted Jim’s description of the contents of the shed and gone in with a posse.

Jim folded his stiff fingers to his palm and opened them again, clenching and unclenching for a few moments. He began unwinding the filthy bandage.

The kitchen door opened and Catherine entered, her expression considerably more relaxed. “Jennie’s here. Her father met her and Ned on the road coming back from Hastings. No minister would marry them without their parents’ consent.”

She took hold of his hand and finished removing the bandage then gently touched the bruised flesh. “This looks painful.”

She motioned him to the sink and pumped water over his hands.

As he washed with the bar of soap, he thought about the young couple in love but not allowed to be together. Ned seemed nice enough when Jim went to the hardware store. He wondered why the Albrights didn’t want him for their daughter. Maybe his house wasn’t as nice as this one or his family as rich.

Catherine handed him a towel to dry off with and glanced at the window. It was full dark out. “Nathan should be back by now. I hope he’s all right.”

Jim held up one finger and shook his head. He held up both hands, ten fingers and nodded. “More,” he signed. “More men.”

“You’re right. We should get help. Nathan might be in trouble. I could wire the marshal in Hastings myself.”

Too late. It will take too long. His gut instinct told him waiting for reinforcements from the city was a mistake.

She leaned to kiss his cheek, a feathery brush of her lips. “You stay here. I’ll go get Herbert Nordstrum to send a telegram.”

He caught her arm as she moved away, wanting to protest her running around in the dark by herself. But he realized letting her go on this errand was the only way he would be free to do what he needed to. Cupping her face in both hands, he kissed her. Her lips left a burning impression on his even after he pulled away. For one more moment, he held onto her, drinking in every detail of her face and form in case this was the last time he saw her.

“It’s all right.” Catherine smiled and touched his cheek with her fingertips. “I’ll be back soon.” She glanced past him at the kitchen door. “The Albrights are upset and arguing so you should probably wait here in the kitchen.”

Taking a shawl from a hook in the entry, she left through the back door off the kitchen. Jim counted slowly to twenty and followed her into the night.

* * * *

Monday was one of the quietest nights at the Crystal, which was a problem. Jim would have preferred the staff be too busy to notice him. His first plan had been to ride to the Gundersons and ask Mike and Dean to help, but their farm was too far away. Besides, he had a prickling feeling inside him that Scott needed help soon. Rousing a posse of men in town would also take time and complicated explanations. So Jim decided to go alone to check on the deputy. But first, he needed a gun.

Murdoch kept a pistol behind the bar. It would be easy to grab, as long as no one noticed him. Since he didn’t work there anymore he had no good reason for being at the Crystal. But Jim was like a shadow to most people, who generally didn’t register his presence.

He entered the saloon through the back exit and lingered in the hallway, looking to see who was tending bar. It was Ted. Murdoch wasn’t anywhere in sight. Good. Jim scanned the room. Only a few customers were seated at tables. The rest filled most of the bar stools. Not so good.

He watched Ted pour drinks, take money, and finally, leave the bar unattended while he went into the kitchen. Jim was about to walk toward the bar when a light hand touched his back. He spun around.

Shirley Mae was right behind him, a smile curving her red-painted lips. The bruises from her beating had faded to smudges of yellow and lilac, not quite hidden by face powder.

“Hello! We’ve missed you. How’ve you been?”

He nodded and turned away, anxious to be rid of her, but Shirley wasn’t in a hurry to get back to work. She tugged on his arm until he looked at her.

“How’s your new job?”

He shrugged.

“Your creepy boss is here.” She pointed across the room.

Jim’s heart flew into his mouth. Grant Karak sat with his back to them, half hidden by one of the support posts in the center of the large room.

Jim withdrew deeper into the shadows of the hallway. Shirley’s insistent tugging forced his attention back to her. She was frowning.

“What’s the matter? Are you in trouble? Can I help?”

He started to shake his head when a thought struck him. Jim nodded, looking directly into Shirley’s eyes. He made the shape of a gun with his thumb and index finger and pointed at the bar.

“You want me to get Murdoch’s pistol for you? Steal it?” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Why?”

Clasping his hands together, he mouthed, “Please.”

Shirley looked at the bar, at Karak, and back at Jim. Her eyes were wide. “No. I couldn’t do that.”

“Please,” he asked again.

She hesitated another moment before a sudden hardness tensed her usually placid features. Her broad, freckled face was set in a scowl as she nodded.

“All right. I will.”

Without waiting for Jim’s response, she walked across the room and went behind the bar. She bent beneath the level of the counter and stayed there for several seconds. When she rose again, she had a bottle in her hand. After pouring a shot of whiskey, she picked it up and started back toward Jim.

Ted returned through the swinging door to the kitchen and said something to Shirley. She laughed. Sweat trickled down Jim’s spine as he watched the exchange, but a moment later, Shirley sauntered past Ted and wove between tables until she reached the hallway where Jim waited. Her face was flushed and perspiring. She lifted her scanty camisole, pulled the big Colt from the waistband of her skirt and passed it to Jim.

The gun was heavy in his hand, the metal cold and hard. He grasped Shirley’s warm hand and looked into her eyes again. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

“Be careful,” she said. “Don’t get killed.”

Not planning on it, but don’t be surprised if I do.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jim lay belly-flat in the weeds on the far side of the train tracks, shivering with cold, staring into the darkness, and trying to decide if the blacker shape within the shadow of a building was moving or not. He’d approached the mill from cross-country rather than from town, tramping through tall prairie grass and dropping to an awkward crouching run as he neared the group of buildings. When he reached the edge of the wild land, he’d dove for the ground, positive he’d seen a patrolling guard near the storage shed.

Too paralyzed to move, he continued to search the shadows with the gun pressed painfully into his gut. Since he was lying right on top of it, he couldn’t draw it to shoot at anyone even if he wanted to. He’d be lucky if he didn’t shoot his own dick off.

Stupid! What good did I think I could do?

The black shape by the side of the shed hadn’t moved and apparently wasn’t a living thing. It was safe to go forward, but still he stayed frozen to the ground. What the hell was he going to do? Scott was probably back at the Albrights by now, while Jim cowered in the weeds like a fool.

Just as he rose to his hands and knees and started crawling backward through the grass in retreat, a bobbing lantern moving from the shed toward the mill caught his attention. He identified the tall man carrying the lantern as mill foreman, Tom Peters. Following him were the men Jim had unloaded train cars with, dragging Nathan Scott between them. The deputy was barely stumbling along, apparently almost unconscious.

Jim’s already terror ratcheted up another notch. He must act before they decided to kill the deputy. Probably the men were waiting for Karak to return from the Crystal and make a decision.

He felt as if he were outside of himself, a stranger watching his actions as he reached to the waistband of his trousers and pulled out the pistol. The length of the barrel slid coolly against his belly making it prickle with heat. He’d never fired a gun before, but had seen men do it a few times. Sight down the barrel, cock it and pull the trigger, smooth and easy. Still, his hand was trembling so badly he was more likely to shoot Nathan than save him.

Thirty yards was too far to aim accurately, but if he moved closer he’d have to leave the shelter of the weeds and cross the tracks. In the moments he hesitated in indecision, the men moved farther away. They were almost to the door of the mill. Once they disappeared inside, whatever chance he had to rescue Scott might be gone.

From around the corner of the building, two more men appeared, Karak and the burly man who’d fetched Jim to work on Sunday. Everyone who dealt with the special shipments was there. Five of them, all armed, against Jim, who didn’t even know how to shoot.

The group in the yard paused while Karak and Peters talked. Arms bound behind his back, Deputy Scott sagged between his captors. Jim imagined Karak giving the order to kill him. They’d probably take him far out on the prairie where a shot wouldn’t be heard, or use a knife to slit his throat. Maybe Karak would question Scott before killing him. That would buy some time, but Jim couldn’t count on it. If he guessed wrong, Scott would be dead.

As Karak walked away, the two men holding the deputy got him walking again. Still lying on his belly, Jim raised the pistol and supported his wrist to hold it steady. He aimed at Peters and squeezed the trigger. The gun’s recoil made him jerk. Jim saw glittering shards of glass flying from the lantern before it went black. The men scattered in all directions, diving for cover.

Jim squirmed through the brush, crawling away from the spot where he’d fired. They’d come looking for him and now was his chance to move closer to the buildings.

He rose and darted across the open ground toward the mill. Reaching the building, he flattened himself against the side, breath rasping in his lungs. Jim squatted and peered around the edge of the building at the open area dimly lit by moonlight.

The men had abandoned their prisoner when they dove for shelter from Jim’s gunfire. Scott had apparently been faking being incapacitated at least to an extent, because now he was running in a zigzag pattern across the yard. Bullets tore up the ground behind him, before he disappeared behind the grain silo.

Jim fumbled with the pistol, trying to figure out how to move it to the next chamber. He raised and pointed again, sighting on a man-shaped shadow crouching beside a wagon. Prepared for the recoil this time, he didn’t jerk, but kept his arm loose, allowing it to absorb the impact. The man by the wagon fell backward, out of the shadows onto the moonlit ground. Jim had hit the burly man. He wasn’t moving and his gun lay inches from his hand.

Jim withdrew into the shadow of the shed, flattening himself against the wall and gasping for breath. His skin was clammy and his stomach churning. He’d actually killed somebody. Suddenly the wood splintered near his head, slivers peppering his cheek. A bullet had drilled into the corner of the building. He scrambled to his feet and ran along the wall in the opposite direction. He rounded the far corner before pausing to breathe.

With no sound to guide him, it was impossible to tell where his enemies were. Out of his sight, they could be anywhere. This was his worst nightmare, the helpless feeling of being in danger because of his handicap. His gaze darted back and forth in the darkness, searching for attackers. He had to resist the urge to shoot at anything that moved. Coming to help Nathan Scott was one of the worst ideas he’d ever had. If either of them made it out of here alive, it would be a miracle.