Deep in the Heart of Trouble

  “Now, release the prisoner.” Russ’s voice rang with authority.

  The crowd fell back in disorder, but the men holding Tony kept their grip firm.

  A voice from the back cried out, “String ’im up! The woman, too!”

  The mob gained a new surge of momentum. Tony’s heart hammered. Where were the men Melvin had sent for? He struggled, then pitched forward, while several shots sent hats flying. A hush spread over the assembly.

  Tony glanced up. Russ covered the crowd with his pistol while Essie began to reload.

  Through the tight mass, Ewing pressed forward. “Stop this at once!” he cried. “Let Morgan go!”

  The butt of a wooden bat descended onto the preacher’s head. He crumpled to the ground. Essie gasped, momentarily losing focus.

  The crowd immediately took advantage of her distraction and surged forward, pulling her from her horse. Russ couldn’t shoot without the risk of hitting her. His whip lashed out, and though several men screamed, the throng managed to catch hold of the whip’s tail and jerk, tearing it and the pistol from Russ’s hold and spooking his horse. He inflicted some damage with his boots and fists but was no match for the number of men who dragged him from his saddle.

  “We want a hangin’!” the men began to chant. “We want a hangin’!”

  The atmosphere took on that of a distorted carnival. A boomer in well-worn denims slung a rope across a great limb of the giant tree while someone else slipped its noose over Tony’s neck. Rough hands threw him up on Essie’s horse. Others held her and Russ back.

  “No!” Essie screamed. “Please! He’s innocent! Let him go!”

  Russ flung men from his body like a dog shaking water from its fur, only to have another swarm of rowdies wrestle him to the ground over and over until he had no fight left in him.

  In that moment, a tremendous fear gripped Tony. Not for himself, but for Essie. For Russ. And for Russ’s family if something happened to him.

  He dared not think of what the mob had done to the sheriff. For nothing short of death would have been able to keep him away.

  The sun began its descent, beating down on the ruddy faces of the rowdies who’d worked themselves into a greater frenzy than before. Nothing could save Tony, his best friend, or the woman he loved. Nothing but God Almighty himself.

  Sacrifice me, Lord, but save the others. Please.

  “Quiet!” someone roared. “I wanna hear his neck snap!”

  The throng whooped and the ground shook with suppressed violence.

  Tony braced himself. A quiet fell upon the gathering. After a couple of seconds, Tony realized the ground was still shaking, not from the agitated crowd but something else entirely.

  He, along with all those present, looked to the east as over a hundred riders on horseback galloped up and quickly surrounded the rioters. A huge cloud of dust enveloped them.

  When it began to settle, the silhouettes of armed men and women slowly took shape, their expressions serious, their weapons primed. Tony looked over the faces of his rescuers.

  Grandpa, Jeremy, Moss, and a multitude of other men who worked for Sullivan Oil. The Baker brothers and their crew of rig builders. Men who worked for Morgan Oil but weren’t in Darius’s back pocket. The sheriff, the judge, and the women of the Corsicana Velocipede Club—Shirley, Mrs. Lockhart, Mrs. Dunn, Mrs. Vandervoort, and a dozen more. His gaze stopped on Anna. Did she even know how to use that weapon she was holding? But her attention was completely focused on the crowd.

  “Release Miss Spreckelmeyer and Russ O’Berry!” the sheriff ordered.

  The men holding Essie and Russ did not respond. Several guns swerved toward them, taking a bead on their hearts. They let go and raised their hands.

  Russ quickly recovered his bullwhip. The men gave him a wide berth. Essie scrambled to Tony’s horse, grabbing its reins and holding it still.

  Tony looked down at her, then saw Finch for the first time. His cousin broke through the crowd and moved to the horse’s flanks. He raised his hand to strike the mare when his wrist was caught midair with the whip and jerked back in an unnatural direction.

  He screamed as the bones in his wrist broke, still unaware that Russ had saved his life, for several guns were seconds away from riveting Finch with bullets.

  The assembly stilled, not wanting to draw the attention of the armed men—or women.

  “Corsicana is a good, wholesome town,” Melvin roared. “And I, for one, will not stand still while you besmirch its history with a lynching.”

  “But this man murdered his own brother in cold blood!” Finch shouted, cradling his broken hand.

  “I have a dozen women here who say otherwise,” Melvin responded.

  The crowd murmured.

  Tony kept his gaze pinned to Finch, uncomfortable with the man’s proximity to Essie. From the corner of his eye, he saw Judge Spreckelmeyer slide off his horse and circle round Finch from behind.

  “These gals have some mighty convincin’ evidence that it was his cousin, Finch Morgan, who killed Darius,” Melvin continued, spitting to the side. “And not just him, but he maybe killed his wives, too.”

  The shock of this unexpected news rippled through the crowd.

  Russ quietly approached Tony, while Finch and the rest of the mob were preoccupied.

  “They’re lying,” Finch shouted, reaching across his body for a knife.

  The judge pressed the barrel of his gun into Finch’s back. “Raise your arms, Morgan. Nice and slow.”

  Finch lifted his left arm. “I can’t raise the right,” he said, pushing his words through clinched teeth. “My hand is hanging by a thread.”

  Spreckelmeyer patted him down, relieving him of his knife. Russ quickly released Tony’s bound hands.

  The mob’s thirst for blood shifted its focus. “Hang Finch Morgan!” they began to chant. “Hang Finch Morgan!”

  Tony slipped the noose from around his neck and swung off the horse. “Get Essie outta here now!” he said to Russ.

  Russ grabbed Essie, but the crowd was already surging toward Finch. Pulling her against him, Russ readied his whip. Tony stood in front of her, effectively sandwiching her between the two of them.

  The sheriff swung his horse to the front, raised his rifle toward the sky and fired.

  The crowd quieted.

  “I’ll be taking Finch up to Fort Smith for a hearin’, so you can rest assured justice will be served.”

  “Let’s save ’em the trouble!” somebody shouted.

  Melvin stilled his prancing horse. “Well, now, much as I’d like to oblige you, I’m afraid I’m bound by oath to do otherwise. If it makes you feel any better, though, Hangin’ Judge Isaac Parker will be waiting for us.”

  The mob cheered.

  “Right now, though, we’d like everybody to go on home and settle down a bit. Show’s over.”

  There were some token protests, but being surrounded by a hundred armed men and women dampened the crowd’s enthusiasm. With more encouragement from the sheriff and his posse, the gathering began to disperse, then changed courses altogether when Mr. Rosenburg hollered, “Free drinks at my place fer the first fifty patrons.”

  Tony turned to Essie.

  “Ewing,” she said.

  “I’ll go find him,” Russ offered, then headed to the spot where Ewing had fallen.

  “You all right?” Tony asked her.

  “I think so,” she answered, her voice shaking. “You look awful, though. Does it hurt terribly?”

  He touched his cheek and eye. “I’m fine. Could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “Is anything broken?” she asked, running her hands along his chest, arms, and hands.

  “I don’t think so.” He threaded his fingers through hers, putting a stop to her examination. “What possessed you to take on that mob with nothing more than Russ and a rifle? You about scared me to death.”

  “I knew the women would come as quickly as they could. I just decided not to wait on them.” She smoothed a
tuft of hair sticking out from his head. “On my way here, I ran into Russ and he insisted on coming with me.”

  He shook his head. “Well, I can tell you this, no one will ever again be able to say you’re marrying a younger man.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “I aged ten years seeing you up there. That makes me thirtyeight and you just thirty-four.”

  She smiled, but before she could respond, the judge and sheriff interrupted.

  “Essie?” her father said. “You all right, honey?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, hugging them both.

  “Is Ewing okay?” Tony asked.

  “He will be. Your sister, Russ, and a couple of the older women are taking him home and seeing to his injuries.”

  “What about Howard?”

  “The mob left him for dead, but the bullet didn’t hit anything vital,” Melvin said. “I have him recuperatin’ in a jail cell while the doc tends to the others who were wounded.” Melvin looked Tony up and down. “What about you? You all right?”

  Tony held out his hand. “Much better than I was a few minutes ago, thanks to you and everybody else. I wasn’t sure what happened to you after the mob rushed us.”

  Melvin nodded. “They stuck me in a cell and left several men to guard me. You know who freed me before my men could get there?”

  “Who?” Essie asked.

  “Your band of bloomer-gals. That’s who.”

  She brightened. “How’d they do that?”

  “Same way them suffragettes did in A Woman’s War.”

  Her jaw went slack. “A Woman’s War? You read Mrs. Lockhart’s books, too?”

  “Shhhh,” he said, looking around, then signaled Grandpa over.

  “Gather up several men and escort Essie, Tony, and the rest of the ladies home.” Someone shouted the sheriff’s name and he excused himself.

  “I want you to go on to the house with Essie,” the judge said to Tony. “I don’t want you staying in the boardinghouse until things settle down.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “You think they’ll sentence Finch to hang?”

  “I’d say it’s almost certain.”

  The depth of Finch’s misdeeds overwhelmed Tony, flooding him with sorrow. Thoughts of Darius, Finch’s wives, and their shortened lives left him feeling dejected. What a waste.

  Spreckelmeyer squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “Well, at least one good thing came from this.”

  “Sir?”

  “Well, Anna.”

  “Anna?”

  “Yes. If it hadn’t been for all this mess, why, she and Ewing might never have gotten married.”

  Tony looked at him blankly. “Married?”

  “Why, sure. She was afraid if the worst happened, she’d have to honor her marriage contract with Mr. Tubbs. Ewing told her that’d be mighty hard to do if she were already wed. So I married those two up this afternoon.”

  “What?” He looked at Essie. “Did you know about this?”

  “No,” she said, eyes wide. “This is the first I’ve heard.”

  Spreckelmeyer chuckled. “Well, now, with all that’s been going on, that’s not so surprising.”

  Tony scanned the crowd, then remembered Anna and some of the others had taken Ewing home to see to his injuries.

  Grandpa approached with a couple of horses. “You two ready?”

  In a bit of a fog, Tony helped Essie mount, then swung up onto his horse. The Sullivan Oil men surrounded them and proceeded to escort them to the Spreckelmeyers’ house on Bilberry Street.

  “Where’s Finch?” Tony asked Grandpa.

  Grandpa spit a wad of tobacco onto the ground. “He’s got him an escort, too. Straight to the jailhouse.”

  chapter THIRTY-FIVE

  ESSIE WOKE early, anxious to check on Tony. She hastily donned a shirtwaist and skirt, then hurried down the stairs. Tony and Papa sat at the kitchen table. From the looks of the almost-empty coffeepot, they’d been there awhile.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” she asked Tony. New bruises had materialized and his right jaw was swollen, though both eyes were open now.

  “It looks worse than it feels.”

  Papa stood and picked up his coffee cup. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.” He pecked her on the cheek and left the room.

  Songbirds heralded the morning and a bit of eastern sun touched the window. She could see Tony had made good use of the bathwater she’d prepared for him last night. His hair was clean, his swollen face shaven, and she could smell a faint hint of sandalwood.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Not really. I’ve a belly full of coffee right now. What about you?” She shook her head, then poured herself a cup. “How long have you been up?”

  “Awhile.”

  She leaned against the counter. “Did you sleep all right?”

  “Yes. It was good to be in a real bed again.”

  “I imagine.” She blew on her cup. “I’ll have Jeremy or someone collect all of your things from the jail.”

  “I can do it.”

  “No. I don’t want you near there. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

  He studied her. “How long you gonna make me wait for a goodmorning kiss?”

  A weightlessness seized her tummy. “Your jaw’s swollen. Won’t it hurt?”

  “Not unless you plan on punching me.”

  She smiled.

  He stood, then ambled toward her. “I like waking up in your house.” He took her cup and set it down. “I’d like it even better if I were waking up in your bed.”

  She swallowed.

  He slipped his arms around her waist. “Good morning, love.”

  Then he kissed her. Softly. Gently. Sweetly.

  It didn’t take long, however, for passion to rush in and burst open the gates of desire. He clasped her more tightly against him, splaying his hands wide on her back and waist. She slid her arms around his neck.

  He flinched and she jerked back.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” he said. “I guess I’m just a little more sore than I thought.” He slipped his hands into hers. “Come sit down at the table with me.” He held her chair, then settled in across from her. “Have you made any plans for the wedding?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been spending most of my time trying to prove your innocence.”

  “And I certainly appreciate that.” He squeezed her hand. “But now that we have that behind us, I was wondering if you’re going to want a big wedding?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not so much that I want one, it’s more that I’ll get one by default. My father’s the Thirty-fifth Judicial District Judge, and we know most every person in the county.”

  He nodded. “Maybe big wasn’t the right word. I think I meant fancy. Are you going to want a fancy wedding?”

  She considered his question. As a young girl, she’d imagined her wedding in a thousand different ways. Sometimes she’d seen herself wearing a lavish beaded gown fit for a princess. Other times she’d visualized a wedding in an outdoor glade fragrant with colorful blooms. She’d even imagined galloping off in the sunset with some handsome cowboy. But those childhood fantasies didn’t hold the same appeal now that they did then. Since her betrothal to Tony, the details of the ceremony had become secondary to the commitment she was making to God and to him.

  “You know,” she began, “I think I can honestly say I don’t care one way or the other. So long as it’s you who I’m exchanging vows with, most any kind of wedding will do. Why? Do you want a fancy wedding?”

  He took a deep breath. “You know what I’d really like?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’d really like to get married today.”

  Her lips parted.

  “And not just because I’m ready to enjoy all the benefits awarded to married couples—though I’m certainly looking forward to that with great anticipation.”

  She felt herself blush, though he didn’t suf
fer the same affliction.

  “The other reason I’d like to accelerate the exchanging of vows is because I need to return to Beaumont. My family’s business interests go well beyond Morgan Oil and have been languishing since Darius’s death. I really need to go home.”

  She looked out the window at the legs of the oil rig in their yard.

  “Well, I can certainly see you needing to straighten out your affairs. And though a hasty wedding sounds extremely tempting, I’m not sure that’s the best solution.”

  His shoulders slumped.

  “Don’t misunderstand, Tony. I’m impatient, too.” She took both of his hands into hers. “But I have to think about Papa and all my friends. If I’m going to live away from them the rest of my life, then I think I should stay here for just a few more weeks and plan a modest wedding where everyone will have a chance to say good-bye. I also need to tie up my loose ends at the Velocipede Club and prepare Shirley to take over.”

  “Are you going to change your mind about marrying me?”

  “No.” She squeezed his hands. “In three weeks, I will be yours and I will go wherever you go.”

  Pulling her to her feet, he kissed her. Roughly, deeply, right there in the kitchen where anyone could walk in.

  “I love you, Essie.”

  Throughout the next three weeks, she found that her hometown, the town that was as much a part of her as her right hand, no longer held the luster it once had. Not without Tony in it.

  She sought out Anna’s company more than anyone else’s because she somehow felt closer to Tony when she was with Anna.

  But Anna was a new bride herself and busy settling in with Ewing, whose injury had not hindered the honeymoon at all, she guessed, considering how happy the two of them looked whenever she caught sight of them.

  And this last week had been nothing short of miserable for her. Why, oh, why hadn’t she told Tony to come for her sooner?

  But finally her wedding day had arrived. And Tony would be coming in on the ten o’clock train. Even then, though, she wouldn’t be able to see him until the ceremony. She didn’t for one minute believe in bad luck or good luck or any such nonsense, but Mrs. Lockhart had been adamant. In Clarabel’s Love Story, Clarabel had seen her groom before the wedding, and that marriage had lasted only three days.