Colorado Bride (39 page)

“Well, I suppose he’s a long way down the trail by now. If you’d dish up that food, ma’am, we’ll eat and be on our way.” Katie served the plates and Carrie handed them around as the men took their place at the table.

“Here’s some supplies in exchange,” said one of the men as he set down a small bag of coffee, some flour, and a side of bacon.

“You needn’t have done that, but I appreciate it.” Carrie picked up the coffee, went over to the storage closet, and pulled the curtain partway open. She placed the coffee on the shelf, and was in the process of putting the flour away when Sam sneezed. Carried jumped six inches, and grabbed for the flour to keep from dropping it. Collecting her wits as quickly as possible, she brought the back of her hand up to her nose, as if she were trying to stifle a second sneeze, and turned around to find herself practically nose to nose with the sheriff.

“Allergies,” she muttered, blocking his view into the closet and not moving an inch from where she stood. “I should never have tried to put up the flour myself, but Jake can’t do it, not with his side cut open, and I didn’t think to ask one of your men.”

“You allergic to a lot of things, ma’am?” The sheriff asked, his suspicions not entirely allayed.

“Not too many, but sometimes it seems like it,” Carrie said. She decided against faking a second sneeze. The sheriff was watching her too closely. “That’s the reason the doctors advised me to come west.”

“Let me put up the bacon away for you,” one of the men offered.

“Put it on the cutting block next to the stove. I think we’ll fry a little of it for our own supper,” Carrie said. She could not allow anyone in that closet.

The sheriff resumed his seat at the table. “You sure do have a mighty powerful sneeze for a little woman. I would have sworn it was a man that sneezed.”

“Are you saying you think I’m hiding this criminal you’re chasing, this killer, in my food closet?”

“Now ma’am, I never said …”

“Search the closet,” Carrie said, flinging the curtain back but being careful to open it only partway. “You can also search the rooms in the back and the wash shed. You’ll find blood in both places.”

“We don’t need to search the station, ma’am, and we know there’s nobody hiding in your closet.” Carrie let the curtain drop back into place, hoping there was no look of relief in her eyes to betray her to the sheriff.

“I want you to be sure in your own mind he isn’t here.”

“Lady, I don’t expect two women and a boy, not to mention a lamed stock man, to be messing around with anyone like Sam Butler. He shoots people for fun. Why, he’d just as soon kill you as look at you.”

“How do you know that?”

“What do you mean?” asked the sheriff, startled that his word should be doubted, especially by a woman.

“Just what I said. Have you seen him shoot people rather than have to look at them or just for the fun of it?”

“Well no, but he’s-”

“Then how can you say he would shoot a person just as soon as he would look at them?”

“Ma’am, this Sam has a mighty powerful reputation.”

“Has anyone else ever seen him shoot people for the fun of it?”

“Lady, Sam Butler has killed people before, several times.”

“Were any of those killings just for fun, or were they in self-defense?”

“They was all in self-defense,” one of the men spoke up.

“Did anyone see Mr. Butler shoot this man in the back? You said it was dark.”

“Lady, there are about twenty men ready to swear they heard Sam and Newley arguing in the saloon about three hours earlier.”

“Three hours! You’re not going to tell me that this Mr. Butler person was still mad after three hours, or that he hid in some alley and waited three hours on the chance Newley would come by. From what you’ve said, he’s too hot-tempered to wait, and much too bold to hide.”

“Well, I don’t know that he actually did hide.”

“Sheriff, if I were Mr. Butler, we were in Virginia, and you accused me of murder without having the least bit of evidence except that I had had an argument with someone, I would take you into court and sue you for slander and defamation of character. The very least that could happen would be that you would lose your job. From what Mr. Barrow has been telling me about the way things are done in Colorado, the injured man would be within his rights in taking a gun to
you.”

“Now see here …” The sheriff was not used to having his reasons subjected to careful scrutiny or to dealing with a woman who handled words better than most men handled a gun.

“I don’t know whether this Butler person shot this Newley person or not,” Carrie went on, “but it looks like you don’t either. Did you organize this posse to take him back to stand his trial?”

“We was actually planning to save the judge the trouble …”

“I wouldn’t think that trying to establish the innocence or guilt of a person should be considered too much trouble for a judge. If so, then maybe your judge should look for another job. After all, that’s what both of you are paid to do, isn’t it?”

“No, it ain’t” the sheriff said, glad to finally have an answer she didn’t expect. “I’m paid to put a stop to the killing and shooting and to put anybody in jail who tries to do otherwise.”

“But you don’t have any evidence Mr. Butler did any shooting, so how can you put him in jail?”

“Look, lady, why are you so all-fired interested in Butler’s future?”

Carrie decided to ignore that and just push on. “Did this Mr. Butler shoot any of those people he killed in the back?”

“No, he didn’t, Mrs. Simpson,” one of the men spoke up, the one who’d spoken before, “and I been trying to tell these hotheaded fools for the last three and a half days that they was making a big mistake. Sam don’t take nothing off nobody, but he don’t shoot people in the back either. He’s too fast.”

“But you said they was having a go at it with their fists, and that Newley swore he would get even with Sam,” the sheriff sputtered.

“Sure he did, but Newley was drunk. Everybody knows Newley is always saying something foolish when he’s drunk, but he’s not crazy enough to go after Sam Butler when he’s sober. Sam didn’t say nothing. He knowed Newley was all hot air.”

It was obvious to Carrie the sheriff didn’t know what to do next. She could also see he was furious at having the steam taken out of his posse.

“I suggest you wait until you have more evidence the next time you start to arrest someone,” Carrie said. “Colorado might not be a state yet, but I can’t see the territorial governor liking people being hanged without evidence. If you were to hang someone in Virginia just because you overheard him having an argument, it would be called a lynching.” That was an ugly word, and it had a powerful effect on the members of the posse.

“We may not be a state, like your precious Virginia, but we have laws against lynching out here too,” the sheriff said indignantly.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now if you’ve all finished your dinner, I suggest you find a place to camp until you make up your mind what to do.” Over the noise of the self-conscious shuffling of feet came the sound of a horse approaching the station at a gallop. The rider rode up to the station, bounded up the steps, and burst through the door. The man was a stranger to Carrie, but he obviously knew the sheriff for he went straight up to him.

“It was Crosby who shot Newley,” he announced, obviously relieved to have finally delivered his message. “His landlady found Newley’s ring, wallet, and his gun in Crosby’s room when she went to straighten up. You wouldn’t think even Crosby could be such a fool as to leave that stuff lying about for anyone to find.”

“Why did he do it?” demanded the sheriff, uncomfortably aware
that
Carrie’s point had just been proven. “He didn’t even know Newley. He had just got into town.”

“Knew him back in some town in Missouri. Seems Crosby got himself into some trouble and skipped out, question of some money stolen from a bank and two guards killed. He figured Newley would turn him in for the reward, so he shot him before he could talk.”

There was a good deal of milling about, the men muttering among themselves, but within a short time they had all murmured their thanks for the food, mounted up, and ridden out. Carrie sank into her chair with a weary plop. The adrenaline which had supported her through the last few hours was gone, and she felt as weak as a kitten.

“I never saw anyone pull a posse’s teeth like you done, ma’am,” Sam said as he emerged from the closet. “You gave them such a licking they wouldn’t take me back if half a dozen swore they saw me shoot Newley.”

“I’m just glad I was able to prevent an injustice,” Carrie said, wondering why she didn’t faint. “I really don’t believe they were going to hang you without any evidence.” She suddenly wished Lucas were here. She hadn’t had time to think about him while she was facing the sheriff and his posse, but right now it would feel awfully good to be able to collapse into his arms.

“Believe it,” Sam said emphatically. “The sheriff was right when he said things are different out here. You can’t wait to try everybody that kills someone else.”

“I didn’t say anything about a proven murderer,” Carrie said, “but saying that things are different is just a flimsy excuse. I won’t listen to any accusation without some solid evidence.”

“I’m sure glad you feel that way, ma’am. I don’t think I will go back to Tyler’s Mountain anytime soon, but it’s nice to know I won’t have a posse on my backtrail.”

“Good. Then you’ll be able to rest up a few days until you feel well enough to travel.”

“Thanks, ma’am, but—”

“I won’t have any buts,” Carrie said firmly. “I’m the one who got you out of this mess, so now you owe me a favor, and “I’m calling it in. I want you back in bed, and I don’t want you on that leg until I say you can get up.”

“Is she always like this?” Sam asked Jake.

“Always,” Jake answered promptly. “And you don’t know the half of it. You wait until she starts putting you to work.”

“He ought to have to do your work,” Katie suggested.

“Thanks just the same, but I’d radier not,” Jake said, not liking the idea of having anyone like Sam Butler working with him, especially if they both had to sleep in the barn.

“Then he ought to be leaving just as soon as he’s able,” Katie said, looking at Sam with dislike. “Just because he didn’t kill that Newley doesn’t mean he didn’t cut Jake with a knife. Who’s to say when he’ll get upset over something else and do it again?” Jake was obviously surprised by Katie’s defense of him.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m leaving,” said Sam.

“Not tonight,” Carrie said, and there was no give in her tone of voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay, but I won’t have you trying to ride a horse for miles with that leg, and I won’t have you doing it tonight either. You sleep here tonight, and tomorrow you can let Found take you to his cabin. And I mean for you to stay. I intend to go out and check on you.”

“She will too,” Jake told him. “She don’t trust anybody when she can’t see them.”

“You also owe me one top-quality mustang.” Everyone looked at her as if she had suddenly started talking gibberish. “Unless I’m mistaken, those hoofprints the tracker saw were left by one of Lucas’s mustangs Found turned loose when he put your horse in the paddock. Isn’t that right?” The boy nodded. That was a smart thing to do, and I’m proud of you. I always knew you were a clever boy.” Found tried not to show his pleasure at Carrie’s compliments, but he turned pink with embarrassment and pleasure.

“Now I think it’s time we all went to bed. I’m exhausted. I don’t know when I’ve felt this tired. And the stage comes early in the morning. Found, I want you to stay here with Sam in case he needs anything during the night. You’re to come get me if it’s anything serious. Are you going to be okay in the barn by yourself, Jake?”

“Sure. I don’t feel too good right now, but I’D hold together a bit longer.”

“You make sure you don’t do anything to pull that cut open again,” scolded Katie, “and you take it easy around those horses tomorrow. You can get Found or one of the drivers to help you.”

“I ain’t such a weakling I need help with horses just because of this little scratch,” Jake protested, but he looked at Katie a little differently, and for the first time he didn’t say anything to annoy her.

“There’s a roast beef dinner waiting for you downstairs,” Amelia Crabapple said to Lucas when she came into his uncle’s room at dusk. “And there’s pie and plenty of coffee.”

“I don’t want anything now. Maybe I’ll have some coffee later.”

“Mr. Barrow, you can’t stay in this room forever, never moving and not eating. It’s not right. You’ve not set foot out of here for three days. You know your uncle won’t be coming out of that coma, or whatever it is that’s got hold of him now.”

“He might.”

“No matter. He wouldn’t know if you took a few minutes to get a bite to eat and tidy yourself up a bit.” He was such a handsome young man, and Amelia hated to see him look so downcast and shabby.

“I’ll have plenty of time after Uncle Max is gone. I don’t have much longer while he’s here.”

“But he doesn’t know what’s going on around him. He won’t know.”