Almost an Outlaw (2 page)

Austin sat silently in the barber’s chair while the barber shaved him. He wasn’t a man to make trivial conversation, and at the present moment, his thoughts had taken him back in time. It had been a hot, dry day in July of 1863 when he saw Darcy for the first time. She was walking down a dusty road, wearing a yellow dress and sun hat, her hands bound. A detachment of five Home Guard soldiers on horseback flanked her.

Watching from the woods, he figured they were escorting her to Kansas City, where dozens of young women and girls were being held prisoner by the Union army. Part of the new war effort against the Missouri guerillas was to arrest their womenfolk. His close friend, Cole Younger, had three sisters and two cousins imprisoned in Kansas City.

Weary, she stumbled, and her guards scolded her instead of offering a horse to ride or a drink of water. If they had shown her some compassion, he might have been more lenient toward them. Then again, probably not. Since he was seventeen, he had witnessed a number of their atrocities against his neighbors and family. His own home had been burned and his mother murdered. He had not been able to save his mother, but he could save this young woman.

With the stealth he had acquired from surviving in the wilderness, he moved silently through the woods to his horse. About a fourth of mile ahead was a clearing. The perfect place for an ambush. He checked his pistols. He carried four revolvers, two in a shoulder holster and two strapped to his thighs. The odds were five to one. Fair enough.

He took a moment to retrieve pouches of war paint from his saddlebags. Mixing the powder with water in his left palm, he used his finger to smear red, black and white streaks across his face. He had learned how to apply war paint, lift scalps and generally terrorize the enemy when he had wintered with the Comanches. A fearful enemy was easily defeated.

He was waiting on a small rise at the clearing when his target approached. He patted the neck of his thoroughbred mount. For an ambush to be successful, you needed surprise, speed and skill. He had all three. He secured Warrior’s reins between his teeth. With a pistol in each hand, he sucked in a breath of the summer breeze and gave Warrior a kick.

He swooped down on the unsuspecting group of soldiers, who looked as if they didn’t believe Judgment Day had arrived. He opened fire with both guns on the surprised unit. The girl ducked and dropped to the ground. Horses scattered and shots sailed toward the sky as her captors fell lifelessly around her.

He dismounted. “Miss, are you all right?” he asked quietly as he extended his hand to help her up. She lifted her head to peer at him from beneath the wide brim of her hat, and he stared into a pair of unforgettable emerald eyes.

The image of Darcy’s pretty face vanished when the door to the barbershop slammed shut. Austin opened his eyes to see a familiar man with a no-nonsense face and sharp blue eyes glaring at him. A silver star hung on the chest of his buckskin coat. Marshal Doss Hannon turned to the barber. “Charlie, finish up and take a break.”

Charlie did just that. He handed Austin a towel to wipe the fresh-smelling soap from his face and raced out of the shop, leaving the two men alone.

Doss flipped the sign on the door to Closed, and Austin sat up in the barber chair. To him, Doss Hannon had always appeared larger than life. The marshal, who had fallen in love with his widowed mother, was the closest thing to a father Austin had ever known. Doss was like a tough old fortress that had survived years of battle and somehow attained nobility in its triumph. He took off his tan hat and smoothed back his white hair. Doss didn’t bother with any pleasantries. “Suppose I oughta let you come down to the jailhouse and pick yourself out a cell?”

Austin tossed aside the towel. “I didn’t come back here looking for trouble.”

“Then how come you told two Pinkerton agents you’d gut them and hang them with their own entrails?”

“I gave you my word I would stay on the right side of the law and I keep my word. You know that.”

Doss studied him for a moment. “It’s your loyalty that troubles me. You are loyal to the Boys and they are a lost cause. Sooner or later, their luck will run out.”

“I haven’t come back to join up with the James-Younger gang if that’s what you think.”

“There’s an opening,” Doss responded. “Pinks killed John Younger a few weeks back. You hear ’bout that?”

“Saw it in the newspaper.”

“Yep. The Boys are in all the newspapers. They’re making a name for themselves.” Doss shook his head. “You know fame can seduce a man to thinking he’s more than he really is.”

“I’m not here to replace John.” Austin stood and stretched his tired back. It had been a hard ride from Texas. “I’m looking for Billy Wise. I’ve tracked him this far.”

“Billy Wise?” Doss exclaimed. “He’s nothing but a two-bit lying scoundrel. You can’t trust him as far as you can throw him.”

Austin had learned that the hard way. “Billy stole Midnight Dancer.”

“Good God almighty! How the hell did that happen?”

Austin threw up his hands in disgust. “Billy showed up at the ranch. Wanting work. I figured I owed Luke that much.” Billy’s older brother had served as a lieutenant in Austin’s command. He had fought and died beside Austin. “So I gave Billy a job. Then, a week ago, one of my stable hands told me Midnight Dancer was missing and so was Billy.”

“Sonofabitch!”

“Out of a hundred horses, he took her.” Midnight Dancer was not only his most valuable quarter horse, with an impeccable pedigree, but also his favorite. He had loved her the first moment he saw her at a stable in Kentucky. Solid black with a white star on her forehead, she had been a lively little filly, dancing around like she knew she was pretty. She had a sweet nature and was the smartest horse he had ever owned. Lord be, if she had been a woman, he would have married her right on the spot.

“You know, I don’t hold to horse thieving. Hung a bunch of horse thieves in my time.”

“If you come across Billy before I do, I don’t want you to hang him until I get my horse back,” Austin ordered. “I’ve got a lot of money invested in that mare and I’m not leaving here without her.”

Doss didn’t look very happy about Austin’s determination to stay in Clay County. “Make sure you stay away from the Pinkertons and the Boys. You hear me?”

“You sound like a mother hen.” Austin reached for his hat, hanging on a wall peg near the door.

“I reckon I do.” The marshal’s gruff voice softened. “It’s just that I don’t want to have to bury you, son.” Then he smiled for the first time. “You know, I’m getting old and I was figuring on retiring someday. Maybe heading down to your place to live.”

Austin grinned. “Having you around every day will put me in my grave.”

Both of them laughed. “I was hoping there’d be a few kids to play with.” Doss cocked his head. “Any prospects in the way of marriage?”

“Nope. I’m not a ladies’ man,” he answered, yet he thought of Darcy. Ten years ago, she had been a pretty girl on the brink of womanhood. She had grown into a stunning beauty. Having her around on a daily basis would be ever so tolerable. However, she was a widow and he had a problem with that. Years of widowhood had not altered his mother’s love for his father. She had never removed her wedding band. Maybe that was the way it should be. Love eternal.

Yet that had left Doss Hannon loving a woman whose heart belonged to a dead man. Now he was growing old alone and Austin did not want to suffer such a fate when it came to love. He didn’t want a woman who could not let go of the past and start over.

“I could use some food. How about getting something to eat at the hotel restaurant? I’ll buy,” Doss offered.

Austin smiled. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

He and Doss headed down Washington Street. They were walking toward the hotel and discussing the finer points of a good steak when they noticed the local sheriff along with a couple of his deputies standing next to a wagon at the undertakers. Doss veered off the street toward the men. “I thought we were going to eat,” Austin said.

“We are. I’m just curious,” Doss replied as they approached the men and the wagon that held a body covered by a blanket. “Sheriff, looks like you’ve got a dead body.”

The sheriff nodded as he lifted the blanket. Much to Austin’s surprise, the corpse was a dark-haired girl, a bit plump, who didn’t look much older than eighteen. Her head fell at an odd angle. Someone had snapped her neck.

“Her name was Molly Slater. She was one of Miss Luellen’s girls.” The local madam had a house of ill repute on the outskirts of town. He waved off a couple of flies. “They found her dumped on the back porch.”

“Sad,” Doss commented. “She’s just a kid. You got any idea who did it?”

“Not yet. None of the girls remembered anything odd about her customers. She wasn’t assaulted or raped,” the sheriff replied. He reached in his coat pocket and produced a small piece of paper. “Whoever killed her left this pinned to her dress. It’s from the book of Revelation. Verse eight of chapter six.” The sheriff read, “‘And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.’”

Doss inspected the note as Austin looked on. “I’ve never heard of such, but I’d figure her killer thought he was sending a message of some sort. He may think of whores as sinners.”

“Maybe he caught the clap from her,” one of the deputies said.

“The girl is dead. Have a little respect,” Austin retorted, narrowing his eyes at the deputy.

“For a whore?” The deputy scoffed, and Austin felt Doss’s warning hand clamp down on his shoulder. It was Doss’s silent way of saying no trouble.

“Tell you what, Sheriff,” Doss put in quickly, finishing up. “I’ll send out a wire to Kansas City and Saint Louis. See if any other prostitutes have been killed lately.”

“Appreciate it,” the sheriff replied.

As Doss and Austin left the men, Austin shook his head, disgusted with the deputy’s careless attitude toward the prostitute. “Her killer will never be brought to justice.”

Doss shrugged. “I believe in luck, and all outlaws eventually run out of luck.”

Across town, Gabriel Wallace stood in the shadows of an alley and watched the young widow climb inside the buggy she had rented at the livery. He never had any doubts that Molly Slater had been telling him the truth about the dressmaker. At the time, the whore had been trying hard to save herself.

“I swear, mister. I don’t know nothing!” Tears had streaked the rouge she had painted on her round cheeks and she reeked of cheap perfume. New at her trade, she still looked a little fresh, with dark hair, big brown eyes and large breasts. The open buttons of her yellowed chemise exposed the kind of deep cleavage men liked.

It was generally known that Cole Younger had a penchant for whores, and Wallace had found out that Molly was one of the outlaw’s favorites. He had lured her into the woods north of town where no one would hear her cries for help. He gripped her neck as he held a pistol barrel against her chest.

“Cole just shows up sometimes. I never know when he’s gonna come by. And I ain’t never seen Frank or Jesse James. I don’t know nothing about them.” Molly breathed hard, her body trembling. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ve got a baby. He’s only a year old. I just do what I have to do to keep us up, you know. It ain’t like I’m a bad person.”

“Molly, I don’t give a damn about you or your baby.” He broke her skin with the knife.

“Mrs. Branson could tell you all about them. She’s kin to them, you know. She’d know everything. She would. I know she would! Like where they hide out,” Molly offered frantically. “She’s a widow and she’s gotta dress shop in town. One time, Cole said he might bring me one of her fancy dresses.”

She gulped back tears. “But he never has. Please let me go. My baby don’t have nobody but me. Please.” Her voice grew smaller with each word.

“I am named after the archangel, Gabriel. He was the messenger of God.”

“A-Angels are good.” She sobbed.

“Not always. You know Lucifer was an angel once. Are you familiar with the Book of Revelation, Molly? It’s about the end of time.”

A convulsion shook her body. “I-I’ve heard p-preachers speak of it. I can’t read.”

He watched her close her eyes as tears dripped from them. And he moved the knife from her neck. Her lips formed silent words. She was praying, which didn’t surprise him. He had seen it often enough. In the last moments of life, people prayed for mercy and forgiveness, for help in their hour of need. His devout father had prayed aloud.

“‘And I looked, and behold: a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.’” He quoted the scripture that he hoped would serve him well.

Those were the last words Molly Slater heard.

Henry Gibson lived in a ramshackle farmhouse that had been deserted twenty years ago. The weathered lumber was rotten in a few places, the porch sagged and the tin roof was streaked with rust. Chickens scattered and Henry’s beagle started barking as Darcy approached in her buggy.

Henry strode out of a lopsided barn. An old hat sat low on his forehead and suspenders held up his denim work pants. His sun-baked face had the leathery wrinkled look of an old boot, and his mouth was hidden beneath a thick, white mustache. He smiled broadly when he saw Darcy.

“Howdy, Miz Branson.” He waved. “This is sure a fine surprise.”

“Henry.” She acknowledged him with a smile. She had known Henry all her life. Her father had often hired him to do odd jobs when she was a child. “How are you?” she asked as she climbed out of the buggy.

“Tolerable as can be for an old fella.”

“I have some ointment for you.” She handed him a small sack, containing a jar of ointment from the apothecary. The salve helped painful joints, and Henry had arthritis in both his knees. Since the loss of her husband, her new mission in life was to take care of others, to do what she could to make someone else’s life a little bit better.

Henry took the sack with a smile of gratitude. “I sure appreciate your kindness, Miss Darcy. If Doc Howard and your ma was still living, they’d sure be proud of what a fine, good lady you turned out to be.”

Her eyes misted for a moment. She wanted to believe her parents would be proud of her. That her past mistakes could be overlooked.

“How is Matt?” she asked. Matt Kirksey was the ten-year-old orphan Henry had taken in a few years ago. Matt had been stricken with polio as a toddler, and when he lost his family, no one wanted to adopt a crippled boy. These days Matt had two people who loved him. She considered him the son she would never have.

Henry chuckled. “Matt’s sleeping in the barn now. I can’t pry him away from that horse you got him. I can truthfully say she’s the best-groomed mare in all of Missouri.”

Darcy smiled for a moment then became serious. “Henry, I need to get a message to Jesse this afternoon.”

“I figure I can take care of that.”

She handed Henry a sealed note. “Do you remember Captain Austin Cade?”

“Yep. Ain’t he dead?”

“No,” Darcy replied. She told Henry about her unexpected visit from the captain and his request.

“The Boys have always thought highly of the captain.” Henry said. “Why don’t you go visit with Matt and I’ll deliver this for you.”

“Thank you.” Darcy reached for a bakery box on the buggy seat. There was nothing she loved more than chocolate pie, and it was Matt’s favorite as well. “We’ll save you a piece,” she promised Henry.

Matt leaned against the split-rail fence that bordered the meadow. He wore a striped shirt she had made for him with his loose overalls. Metal braces bracketed both his legs, and his crutches were propped beside him. Matt was small for his age but Darcy was certain that someday he would catch up, and he was going to be a handsome man as well. He had thick golden brown hair and bright blue eyes with a charming twinkle. An outgoing child, he never met a stranger.

“Miss Darcy!” His ever-present smile widened when he saw her. Despite the fact that Matt had endured more than his share of bad luck, it had not changed his cheerful disposition. That was what she admired about him. No matter how tough things got for him, he didn’t let life get him down.

“Hello, sweetness.” She smoothed his hair. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been having the best time ever!” he answered and Darcy saw the adoration in his eyes as he looked at the mare. “She’s the finest horse in all the world and she’s the smartest too.”

Darcy watched the pretty black mare strut in front of them. Throwing her tail in the air, she danced around as if she knew she had an audience and she wanted to show off. Indeed, the horse was special, and Darcy had no regrets that she had paid Billy Wise a hundred dollars for her. She considered that a huge amount to pay for a horse but Billy had assured her he could get more than that for the mare at auction. The horse did look healthy and Henry had said she definitely had good blood in her veins. She had handed over a hundred dollars to Billy, who took the money and said he was heading to Dodge City.

“Come here, girl.” Matt called to the mare, who trotted up to the fence where he stood. He gave her a piece of carrot and stroked her nose lovingly. Darcy smiled.

The glow on his young face was well worth the money.

An hour later, Darcy and Matt were sitting on a quilt in the shade and enjoying chocolate pie when Henry returned. She left Matt on the quilt and went to meet Henry.

He got off his old gelding and handed Darcy a note. “From Dingus,” he said, calling Jesse by his nickname.

Darcy glanced at the note, which indicated the Boys would happy to see Austin. She could bring him to their hideout in the morning. She tucked the note in her skirt pocket. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Miz Branson.”

She noticed the grim lines in his face as he roped his horse’s reins to the hitching post. “What’s wrong?”

He took off his hat and smoothed the worn crown. “Cole said he’d heard one of Miss Luellen’s girls had been murdered last night. Molly Slater,” he said as his eyes misted. Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to speak of such things in front of a lady.”

“That’s all right.” Darcy assured Henry she wasn’t offended. “Did you know her?”

“Ever since she was a kid. Molly had a hard life. She married that no-good Jimmy Slater and he left her with a baby. That’s when she started working at Miss Luellen’s.”

“She had a baby?”

Henry nodded. “Miss Luellen told Cole that Reverend Kelly and his wife are taking the little boy ’cause they ain’t got no kids. I’m proud of that. Molly would be happy to know her son’s got a good home now.”

“Oh, yes, Reverend Kelly and his wife are wonderful people.” Darcy hesitated. “What about her killer?”

“All I know is he ain’t been caught yet. And Miss Luellen said when he was caught, she was gonna lead the lynching party,” Henry answered with an approving nod. “And I guarantee Miss Luellen is the kinda of woman who’ll do just that.”