Come the Spring

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked.

  “She risked her life for me,” she answered.

  “What about Rebecca? Do you feel responsible for her too?”

  “In a sense I do. She’s been so kind and thoughtful.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I’m taking you home, Miss Winthrop. No, that isn’t right,” he teased. “It’s Lady Winthrop, isn’t it?”

  “No, Daniel, it’s Grace. Just plain old Grace.”

  “Ah, Grace. There’s nothing plain about you. Nothing at all.”

  Twenty

  The baby was in his line of fire. He wanted to kill the boy first, but he wouldn’t give in to the inclination because the mother would have time to run for cover, and she was his primary target. It was imperative that she die. There was a deputy walking by her side who was fully armed, watchful, and who just might get off a lucky shot of his own if he was given the chance.

  Mr. Johnson shifted his position on his belly, determined to wait until all three of them were crossing the street. From his perch on the roof above the general store, he had a nice clear view of the road below, and with his Winchester, he wouldn’t miss. Patience, he told himself as he felt the surge of excitement rush through him. The guard first, then the woman, then the boy. One, two, three, as easy as can be.

  Anticipation made him giddy. The thrill he felt before a kill was as good as being with a woman. No, it was better than that, he thought. Much better.

  They were taking their time, strolling along the boardwalk, stupidly ignorant and blissfully unaware that they had only seconds left to live. Their executioner giggled like a young boy while he waited to seize the opportunity.

  Jessica argued with the guard about their destination. She wanted to walk over to the jail, but York was determined to take her back to the hotel. The dour-faced deputy Sloan had hired was a rather plain man with only one vanity, his handlebar mustache. The long black hairs on his upper lip curled out and up over the sides of his nose. The pomade he’d used stiffened and starched each hair, so that when he talked, his mustache didn’t move at all.

  Jessica took hold of Caleb’s hand as she stepped off the boardwalk. York had hold of her elbow and was trying to guide her across. There wasn’t any traffic on the road behind the physician’s house, for it dead-ended at the stable around the curve. When Caleb wanted to run ahead, she made certain it was safe for him to do so and then let go of him.

  Cole had just turned the corner and was striding down the center of the street toward them when Caleb spotted him. The baby started running. He stumbled twice as he tripped along but quickly regained his feet and continued on. Jessica and York increased their pace to catch up with him. Caleb was chattering away, and Jessica was smiling like a proud mother while she watched her baby’s antics. When Caleb was about thirty feet away from Cole, he raised his arms and demanded, “Up,” in a roar that echoed down the street.

  Mr. Johnson edged up to his knees, swung his Winchester into position, and fired. The guard dropped. Like a pigeon in a shooting gallery, York was moving forward one second and dead on the ground the next.

  Jessica screamed. York was facedown in the dirt. The bullet had sliced through his heart, just as Mr. Johnson intended. He never ever missed.

  Jessica fell to her knees and struggled to turn the guard over so that she could help him. There was blood everywhere. “Mr. York,” she whimpered. “No … no … Mr. York…”

  She reached for the gun in his holster and had just pulled it out when a shot spit the dirt up next to her side. She screamed again, dropped the weapon, and then grabbed hold once again.

  “Get down,” Cole roared to her as he raced forward. The shots were coming from the roof above the general store, but he couldn’t see the gunman’s exact position. He kept shouting at Jessica to get the hell out of the street, to duck, but she wasn’t listening to him.

  She squinted up at the roof as she lifted the gun with both hands and tried to fire. She was shaking so much she almost dropped the gun again, and when she finally fired, the bullet shattered the glass of the second-story window.

  The sound of gunfire had frightened Caleb, and he was running back to his mother. “No,” Jessica cried out.

  Mr. Johnson watched as she ran to intercept her baby. He was toying with her. He was having such a fine time, he couldn’t resist playing cat with his little mouse. Because he so enjoyed the look of stark terror on the woman’s face, he wanted to prolong the thrill. The boy had quickly come back into range. That was nice. Mr. Johnson smiled as he once again considered killing the boy before the mother so that he could watch her expression. It was bound to be priceless.

  She was moving too quickly to suit him. We can’t have that, he thought with a chuckle as he fired at the ground in front of her. She came to a dead stop. “That’s better,” he whispered, but then she was moving again, and he had to fire at the ground to get her to stop. Dust sprayed up into her face.

  Damned if she didn’t start running yet again. God love her—and He would soon have that opportunity, Mr. Johnson thought, if she went right to heaven. Was she as pure as she looked? Mr. Johnson sincerely doubted that. There was no such thing as a pure woman, and he wasn’t going to dispatch this woman to heaven or hell quite yet. She had to suffer first. His rules, not God’s, but in his mind he was just as omniscient because he too had the power to determine who lived and who died.

  “Time’s up,” he whispered as he aimed the barrel of the rifle at her heart.

  Only a few precious seconds had passed since the first shot was fired, but it seemed a lifetime before Cole could reach Jessica. He dove, knocking her to the ground. He rolled onto his back on top of her, his guns drawn and ready as he squinted against the sunlight to find the target.

  There … in the corner of the roof… a flash of metal. “Got you,” he muttered a scant second before he opened fire.

  His second shot struck his target. The gunman lurched up and back, stumbled forward on his knees, and then plummeted to the ground. Cole shot him three more times as he was falling to his death.

  His attention stayed on the outlaw as he slowly rolled to his feet and moved forward. His anger was beyond control. Caleb’s screams echoed in his ears. The baby was sitting in the dirt, crying for his mama.

  Staggering to her feet, Jessica ran to him. She was too weak to pick Caleb up and fell to her knees beside him. He clawed at her skirt and threw himself against her. She wrapped him in her arms and began to rock back and forth, her sobs overpowering her.

  Daniel had heard the shots from the jail and ran the three blocks to Lawrence’s house. He saw Jessica and Caleb in the street, slowed down to make sure they were all right, and then continued on to Cole, who was standing over the dead gunman. Panting, Daniel watched as Cole kicked the man over onto his back. Every bone in the man’s face had been crushed by the fall. The damage was so severe his own mother wouldn’t have recognized him now.

  “Do you know who he is?” Daniel asked.

  Cole shook his head. “Maybe Rebecca can tell us … if she can recognize him. He was probably one of the gang.”

  “Yeah, well, Grace just told me she was in the bank. She swears she’s the witness.”

  Cole was taken aback by the announcement. “Which one’s telling the truth?”

  “Damned if I know,” Daniel muttered. He squatted down next to the body and began to search the pockets, looking for identification.

  Cole waited for another minute or two until he was certain he’d gotten his anger under control. Then he slowly crossed the street to Jessica, who was doubled over, hugging her son. Cole put his arms around her and lifted her up. She tried to jerk away from him. He noticed the six-shooter in her hand and quickly grabbed it, tossing it on the ground behind him.

  Caleb reached for him, but Jessica wouldn’t let the boy go. She was still trembling and taking deep, gasping breaths.

  “Why the hell didn’t you drop when I told you to?” Cole asked in a voice
as smooth as molasses.

  What he said and how he said it confused her. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. “What did you say?”

  “I asked you to explain why you didn’t dive for cover when I ordered you to,” he repeated.

  “You’re angry.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You want to shout at me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” he admitted. “But I won’t. It would upset Caleb, and yelling is pointless. Next time, Jessica, do as I say. I can’t protect you unless you do.”

  “Next time?” she shouted.

  Caleb burst into tears again.

  “Ah, hell, now look what you’ve done,” Cole muttered.

  Daniel joined them. Without a thought as to what he was doing, he took the baby away from Jessica, turning so that Caleb wouldn’t see the body behind them.

  “Poor baby,” he whispered as he gently patted Caleb’s back.

  Properly soothed, the baby put his head down on Daniel’s shoulder and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

  “Did you find any identification?” Cole asked him.

  “No,” Daniel answered. “His pockets were empty.”

  Jessica grabbed hold of Cole’s hand. It had finally dawned on her what he had said. “I didn’t do as you ordered because I wasn’t thinking. I only wanted to get to my son to protect him from that madman.”

  “I understand,” he said. “But, Jessica, I can’t…”

  She squeezed his hand as she interrupted. “I’m sorry if my conduct upsets you or offends you, but I swear to you, I’d do it again. No one’s going to hurt my son. Dear God, I can’t … stop … thinking what almost happened. Caleb could have been killed.”

  He didn’t have to reach for her. She came into his arms willingly, desperately needing to be comforted.

  He hugged her tight. “You aren’t going to cry, are you?” he asked gruffly. “You’re going to upset Caleb if you do.”

  “No, I won’t cry, but you don’t understand,” she whispered. “It’s my fault Mr. York is dead. He was such a nice man. He’d be alive if it weren’t for me.”

  “Hush now,” he ordered. “None of this was your doing. Poor baby. It’s all over now. I know it was frightening.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “What don’t I understand, sweetheart?”

  He was more stunned than she appeared to be that he had used the endearment. What was even more amazing to him was the fact that it had come so easily.

  “I didn’t know how to shoot that gun.”

  “You did just fine.”

  “No, I didn’t,” she argued. “And I have to know how.”

  “Jessie, I know it was a close call, but I did get the bastard. I can protect you. Have a little faith in me and let me do my job.”

  “I do have faith in you, but I still have to know how to protect my son.”

  Daniel carried Caleb back to his mother. “Is she all right?” he asked Cole.

  “Yeah, she’s just shaken.”

  “It was me,” she blurted out. “I was there.”

  “What?” Daniel said.

  It suddenly dawned on Cole what she was trying to tell him. “Let me guess,” he muttered.

  She stared up at Daniel over Cole’s shoulder. “I’m your witness.”

  “Ah, hell.” Daniel whispered the expletive with a sigh.

  Caleb promptly repeated it.

  “Now what?” Cole asked as he tightened his hold on Jessica. She had willingly gone to him, and he wasn’t going to let go.

  “What’s going on here?” Daniel asked, his anger mounting as he spoke.

  “Know what I think?” Cole said. He squeezed Jessica before adding, “It was damned crowded under that desk.”

  Twenty-One

  The office in the front of the jail was crowded with lawmen. Marshal Jack Cooper, head of operations in Salt Lake City, and two young deputies named Spencer and Cobb, had just arrived in Rock-ford Falls. The three men had ridden hard and were parched and covered with a layer of dust.

  Cooper was a good friend of Daniel’s. The two men had worked on several investigations in the past, though admittedly none of them had involved women, and all of the cases had been far less convoluted. Like Daniel, Cooper was no stranger to danger or the bizarre behavior of criminals. He once escorted a smooth-tongued self-proclaimed reverend who had brutally killed and mutilated sixteen redheaded men because he believed the color of their hair indicated that they were spawns of the devil. The crazy loon constantly misquoted scripture, insisted that he heard God’s voice every day at noon on the dot, and refused counsel. The Lord, he declared, would step forward and testify on his behalf. Ironically, the judge who heard the case just happened to have carrot orange hair, and it didn’t take him any time at all to recommend to the jury that the guilty man be hanged.

  Cooper had done and seen it all. Deeply tanned with creases at the corners of his brown eyes and prematurely silver-tipped hair, he looked more like a senator than a lawman. Nothing ever fazed him. After reading Daniel’s notes, he tossed the pad on the desk and sat down. The two deputies leaned against the wall behind him.

  “It seems to me that you’re letting these three women run your investigation,” he remarked as he stretched his long legs out and crossed one ankle over the other.

  Cole heard the comment as he came in the door. He had just returned from the hotel.

  Daniel introduced him to Cooper and his deputies. “This is Marshal Clayborne,” he said. “He’s new to the job.”

  The deputies rushed forward to shake his hand. Spencer looked awestruck and asked, “Is your first name Cole? Are you that Clayborne brother?”

  “Yes,” Cole answered.

  “I’ve heard all about you, sir.”

  “Is that right?” Cole asked, wondering what he had heard.

  “Yes, sir,” Spencer said. He looked at the other deputy and whispered, “Clayborne’s a legend in Montana.”

  Cobb was dutifully impressed. Cooper saw Cole roll his eyes in exasperation, and grinned in reaction.

  “Why don’t you boys go on over to the hotel now and get cleaned up. After you eat, take the watch from the sheriff and his men for a while.”

  “Yes, sir,” Spencer said. He nudged Cobb out the doorway but paused to look at Cole. “Marshal Clayborne, sir? Is it true what happened down in Springfield?”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Cole replied.

  “But it’s true, isn’t it? You shot all four of the Murphy gang before any of them could get their guns out, didn’t you, sir?”

  “Get going, Spencer,” Cooper ordered. “You’re embarrassing Marshal Clayborne.”

  Cole laughed. As soon as the door closed behind the deputies, he said, “They look awfully young.”

  “They are young,” Cooper agreed. “But they’re fast with a gun and they want to be lawmen. They’re both tougher than they look.”

  Daniel spoke to Cole then. “I’ve decided to change the plans. Cooper’s going to take Rebecca to Blackwater, and you and I will take Grace and Jessica. We’ll split up and all meet in Red Arrow on Thursday, barring any unforeseen problems.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Cole said.

  “I thought we should all travel together,” Cooper interjected. “But Daniel thinks it’s safer if we take separate trains.”

  “Three beautiful women are bound to draw a lot of attention,” Cole said.

  “Cooper just told me there’s a signed order from Judge Abbott,” Daniel said.

  “Who’s Abbott?”

  “A judge in Salt Lake,” Daniel answered. “The judge in Blackwater wired Abbott asking for his help in getting our cooperation. Since we’re on special assignment, we don’t have to do as they ask, but I think we should go along. One of these women saw the murders, and by God, she will testify.”

  “The judge in Blackwater is hopping mad,” Cooper interjected. “I can’t blame him. First, Daniel wires him and tells him he might
have a witness. Then the women say they weren’t there, and then they all say that they were. Have you figured out which one was really inside the bank at the time of the robbery?”

  “Not yet,” Daniel said. “I thought I’d know after each one gave me the details of what happened.”

  “But?” Cooper prodded.

  “They each have their own version. It’s maddening.”

  “If you had to guess, which one do you think was really there?” Cooper asked.

  Daniel and Cole said the name at the same time. “Rebecca.”

  “Interesting,” Cooper replied.

  “The details she gave us are convincing. She was able to describe some of the men, and she even knew a couple of their names.”

  “Jessica hasn’t been able to tell us much yet. She’s still pretty shaken over the shooting.”

  Cooper said, “I’ve gotta tell you one thing. These women sure do intrigue me. I can understand why they would all deny being there. They’d be scared and they have all surely heard about the witnesses the Blackwater boys butchered. What I can’t understand is why they’d all change their tune and say they were there.”

  “Daniel thinks they all joined forces,” Cole said. “Sheriff Sloan put the three of them together in one of the cells, and Daniel thinks that’s when they hatched their plan.”

  “What do you know about these women? Have you looked into their backgrounds?”

  “We don’t know much … yet,” Daniel said. “I’m having each one of them investigated. It’s a slow process, though, and we’ll probably be in Blackwater before the information comes back. I do know bits and pieces, but even that hasn’t been verified.”

  “Such as?” Cooper asked.

  “According to people she’s met in Rockford Falls, Rebecca was born in New York City and lived with her parents and her cousins in a tenement. There were nine of them in a two-bedroom apartment. Both the parents drank themselves into early graves. Rebecca is self-educated, and about three years ago, she moved to St. Louis and severed ties with her relatives. She met a businessman and she’s planning to marry him in the fall. She goes to church every Sunday and works in the library.”