Little Sam's Angel (5 page)

Gabe looked down at the child, relaxed in his arms. "It isn't hard to love something like this, even if…" He looked back up at her. "Even if he isn't your own. He came too early to fit her lies."

Sammy didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. When he walked to the house, he hadn't invited her to go along, not asked her to stay, so she left.

Three hours later a wagon arrived at his doorstep loaded with baby furniture that had previously filled a corner of her attic, waiting for more Mentrol children to come. There had been no more after Sammy, and Sammy saw a need for the furniture. She fought with herself over going back with it, not for the baby, though her heart went out to him, but for the man. Reason won out. She had enough problems without Gabe Taylor in her life.

Chapter Four

"I want to talk to you, privately," Sammy said without preamble. She took Hedges' arm, dragging him to the back room, not waiting for him to say no or to bid farewell to the men he was talking to in the hotel lobby.

"You're out early today. You must'a left before daylight to get here so early," he teased until he saw the look in her eyes and turned sober. "What's the matter, Samantha?"

"Who is he?"

"Who?" he asked evasively, drifting away from her.

"I want to know who Taylor is, Hedges. I want to know if I've got a rattlesnake or an angel living in my house," she asked, despite her decision the day before to stay clear of Taylor.

"Don't suppose he's rightly either. Man cain't be an angel and be human, girl," he told her with an obvious inability to look her in the eye. "Men make mistakes in their lives. You aiming to give him a bad time over that deed?"

"He said he'd give it to me. When I told him I wouldn't take it without paying for it, he accused me of being in cahoots with you," she retorted.

"You've talked to him?" he asked eagerly. "Did he apologize?"

"Yes, for all it was worth. He apologized for saying it, not for believing it. He seems to have a poor opinion of women."

"Ah, now, Gabe don't think that about you. It's something else."

"Damn it, tell me who he is."

Hedges chewed his lip, considering it before he said quietly, "Gabriel 'Angel' Taylor from Crystal Creek Bluffs." He cringed over the look of shock on her face and added lamely, "He is an angel, sort of."

"Oh, Hedges, you fool. What's wrong with you, wanting a man like that to stay here? We don't need—"

"You just hold on, young lady. You ain't got the right of that story, or you wouldn't say that. Gabe's a good boy."

"He's responsible for nine killings."

"He is not. He dang near got killed trying to stop them dang fools from a shooting war."

"Everyone knows he started it. The only reason they didn't hang him was because—"

"'Cause they knew a man lying in the street all shot to bits couldn't have been the one doing the shooting," he snapped. "You just sit yourself down, and I'll tell you what happened and why those in Crystal Creek were so darn quick to make it sound like he caused it."

He didn't wait for her to sit down but started talking. "Remember when I went to you with that idea to file on your own land? Well, that idea came from him then in Crystal Creek. Gabe tried to get the ranchers there to do the same thing, trying to head off a war, but no one would listen to him. The ranchers down there were just like Big Sam. They figured they owned the land by right, and they'd fight off anyone that tried to say different. You know how fond I was of Big Sam, but you mark my words, if he hadn't died, and you hadn't shown the others what to do, the same thing would be happening here.

"Down there they pushed and shoved, chasing off farmers and burning them out for over a year. Gabe got pretty disgusted with them all and left for a while to get away from it. While he was gone, a man just like Burns got busy and organized the farmers. They moved in a bunch all at once. The day Gabe rode back into town, all hell was fixing to bust loose. One of the farmers had shot down a rancher who was busy pulling down one of his fences. The ranchers were holed up in one bunch, fixing to go after the farmer, and the farmers were holed up in another bunch waiting for them."

Hedges paced in agitation as he went on. "Gabe went to the sheriff, telling him he ought to arrest the man to head off a blow-up. Sheriff said it wouldn't do any good 'cause the ranchers would just take him and lynch him, and there'd just be a fight over that. So Gabe went to the ranchers and made them swear that if he brought the man in, they'd let him go to trial. Them ranchers swore to it, Samantha, raised their hands in the air and swore to it. My friend Ollie seen 'em. Gabe took them at their word, and he went to the farmers. He told them what the ranchers had sworn to, promised them the man would be safe, so the man went in with him."

He stopped pacing to look at her. "Gabe never got the man to jail. The ranchers were laying in wait for them in the street. Gabe pulled up, seeing that something was wrong, and they all came out. The ranchers in front of him and the farmers that had followed in back. The ranchers told him to give the man up, called him a traitor to his own kind for saying he'd defend the squatter. The farmers screamed he was a liar, said he knew the ranchers would be waiting. They shot him down, bad. Three hits, girl. One from the back in his shoulder, one from the front, low down on his flank, and one upside the head creased him good. And that wasn't the worst of it. They left him laying there in the street like a dog. Ollie tried to go out to him under a white flag, and they shot his legs out from under him to keep him away."

He paused again, looking out the window. "Gabe was awake some of the time that night. He knowed they wouldn't let no help go to him."

"Poor way to repay him," she said quietly, wondering if she could see the scar in Gabe's hair if she looked close.

"It was because they wouldn't listen that they hated him the most. They hated him for being right and them being wrong. They wanted him dead so's they'd never have to see him again to remind them of how there hadn't been no need for nine men to die that night. If the military hadn't gotten there when they did, he would have died, and God knows how many more."

Sammy asked, "And the 'she' he associated all women with now was a rancher, using men to do the dirty work while she pleaded innocence?"

"Yeah," he said, looking at her in appreciation and admiration for the fact that she could see it. "When she couldn't work her wiles on him to get him to lead her men into killing for her, she turned against him, making things bad for him with a bunch of lies. She was the one that whipped them other ranchers up, calling them cowards and Gabe a traitor, and once she got them all shooting at each other, started the talk that the whole thing was Gabe's doing. It was a dang lie, but she'd have made it stick if Ollie hadn't spoken up for him."

"Who is she?"

"Brenda Cargin, widow, owned one of the biggest spreads around there. Gabe worked for her."

Sammy didn't miss the discomfort Hedges ended with. After what she had witnessed the day before she could guess why. "She was here yesterday."

"She still is, spreading more talk about him," he said glumly.

"Haven't you told them the truth?"

"Well," he said hesitantly, "what she's saying ain't got anything to do with the fighting. Fact is she ain't said nothing 'bout what went on in Crystal Creek, ain't even using the same name here. I know her though, even if she don't 'member ever seeing me, and I figure it's better for Gabe if all of that other business ain't known. She's saying the boy is his, and he deserted her. They don't see why a pretty little thing like that would lie, and, well…" He hesitated over the delicacies of the matter and shifted uncomfortably. "He, ah, she says, he…" Embarrassed, he finished in an rush. "He kept the kid. That makes it look like he's saying it is."

"Uh-huh," Sammy said, heading for the door.

"Where you going?"

"Who," she asked, leaning back through the door, "is the worst gossip in town?"

"Mrs. Jones."

"Right, and since she's also a dressmaker, I've suddenly got the urge for a new blouse."

"What are you going to do?" he asked dubiously.

"Plenty, Hedges. I was there when pretty little Brenda Cargin showed up. Gabriel Taylor doesn't deserve what she's doing."

"Well, I'm sure glad to see you think that. He's a good man."

"I could see that, even before you told me the whole story. He tried to give me that deed, and you should see him with that baby—that isn't his."

"If you think that, then why'd you—"

"You wouldn't have told me otherwise."

Hedges chuckled. He'd hoodwinked a lot of folks in his time, but so far the only one to put one over on him was Sammy. He didn't know what Sammy had to tell, but he was sure Mrs. Jones would be convinced she'd tricked the information out of her.

* * *

Sammy wanted to tell what she'd seen and heard before she had rushed to the child's aid, but she knew she couldn't just come right out with it. If it was given too freely, Mrs. Jones would be skeptical. Mrs. Jones liked to look under rugs and search out corners for her bits of newsy gossip. The more she had to hunt for secrets, the sweeter they were to tell—and usually the most damaging. To be fair to her, Mrs. Jones spread good news as fast as bad, and that was what Sammy was going to use. As for getting to the subject, Sammy had no worry about that, as it was the first thing Mrs. Jones brought up.

"I suppose you've heard about that Mr. Taylor?" the older woman said, showing Sammy into her shop.

"The same Mr. Taylor that won Smith's section in a poker game?"

"But did he win it fair?"

"No one would have to cheat against Smith, Mrs. Jones. He's the world's worst card player. I'm just glad it was someone like Mr. Taylor who did win it. He's being very reasonable and fair about it, even after the disagreement he had with Pierce."

"He shouldn't have tried to hold you up. Pierce was just looking out for you."

Sammy put on a puzzled look, even if this version of the fight didn't surprise her overly much. "But Pierce only thought he would hold me up, Mrs. Jones. He was quite mistaken. Since Pierce is my hired hand, Mr. Taylor was very generous in not holding Pierce's unwarranted attack against me. He's a little unsure of his plans, but if he decides to leave before I have the cash, he's going to leave the deed in Hedges' care," she told her, elaborating on the truth just a bit.

"A little unsure?" the older woman asked, looking as if she was tucking the bit of information about the deed away for later use. "I should think so."

"Well, it is a little unsettling suddenly finding yourself with a child to care for."

"It's plain he never thought he'd have to."

"I don't see how he could have anticipated it. It would have been different if the child was somehow related to him."

"That child came from the wrong side of the blankets, dearie."

"Oh," she said, wishing she could fake a blush. After living all her life on a ranch helping with the breeding of the horses and cattle, sex was not something she knew nothing about. She had to settle for dropping her eyes and using a faint voice. "That's what she meant."

"Why, have you met the mother?"

"I didn't really meet her. I just saw her when she pushed…" She broke off quickly. "Have you any blue, Mrs. Jones? I was very fond of the last blue blouse you made up for me."

"I have some just about the same shade, only with tiny flowers in it." She ambled off and returned with a bolt of cloth. Sammy admired it, waiting for the next question. She turned to hold the cloth up to her face and view it in the mirror, beginning to fear that Mrs. Jones wasn't going to ask one.

"What is her name again? I can't seem to recall it."

"All I heard was Brenda. She's…" Sammy ended in a mock shudder.

"When did you see her?" Mrs. Jones asked casually, making Sammy feel limp with relief.

"Yesterday at Mr. Taylor's. She looked so beautiful… at first."

"At first?" Mrs. Jones queried, quick to pick up the phrase Sammy had so carefully chosen. "I suppose there were harsh words."

"That woman, that Brenda, was positively vul—ah, I do like this print."

"Bound to upset a mother when he refused his child."

"Oh, but he isn't the fa—" Sammy turned away quickly. "Mrs. Jones, about the blouse..."

"I can have it for you in a week. Do you want white on the collar and cuffs?"

"That'll be fine." Sammy put the bolt aside, hesitating and picking at the cloth to stall. "Mrs. Jones, has… It really isn't any of my business, and I shouldn't be asking. Only…he was so kind in taking the child."

"Right that he should be, since it's his," said Mrs. Jones piously.

Sammy made a move with her head as if she caught herself from shaking it and stared at Mrs. Jones.

"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Jones asked.

Sammy worried her lower lip with her teeth. She wasn't undecided about telling Mrs. Jones, just how she would phrase the words to be of the most benefit. "I just don't understand a woman like that. It was bad enough the way she pushed that baby off the wagon right under the horse's hooves, but to come in here and lie—oh, I shouldn't have said anything."

Sammy could see she had put Mrs. Jones in a quandary. She had given her too much information too fast, and Mrs. Jones couldn't decide which she wanted to know the most about first. Then her maternal instincts took over. "She pushed the poor thing off the wagon?"

"I was terrified, Mrs. Jones. If Mr. Taylor hadn't been able to hold that brake handle after that woman released it long enough for me to pull that child out of harm's way, that poor baby have been crushed for sure. You can see why Mr. Taylor would take the poor thing, and it seems such a shame for that woman to…"