by G. S. Carr
Morris watched the trail of saliva, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "No mistake. I make it a habit to thoroughly investigate anyone that might affect my business dealings. I assure you, her name is Deena Lyon."
Morris was lying. He had to be. Otherwise, Asa had spent the last few weeks giving his heart to a woman who’d come to scam him. Deena wasn’t that kind of person.
What reason did Morris have to lie?
Asa rubbed his stubbled chin. His stomach knotted with dread as a horrible possibility sank in. What if Deena was the one lying? After all, she had been about to confess something. And she did mention she lied. Was it about her identity as this man claimed?
"If she's Mr. Bloodlow’s acquaintance, what does that have to do with your business?"
"You see, one of my other associates informed me that Deena had come to see him about a certain possession she'd acquired in New York.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forward. “And by acquired, I mean stolen. Naturally, I sought out the owner of the pilfered item to inform them that I knew where to find their property. That quest brought me into Mr. Bloodlow’s acquaintance. He so graciously offered me a favor in exchange for the whereabouts of his missing property. So, you see, helping Mr. Bloodlow track down your Deena has put us in league together."
"Enough with the flowery words. Get to the point. What do you want?"
"For you to sell me the deed to your land and your cooperation in helping me obtain the deeds for the rest of the farmlands in Ruby Creek."
Asa’s head snapped back. "Excuse me? I must have heard you wrong because it sounded like you said you wanted my land.”
The corner of Morris’s mouth curled into a sinister sneer. “You did not hear me wrong.”
“Why would I ever give you my land?”
Morris’s unassuming gentleman persona reappeared. His smile became sugary. “Because if you do, I've convinced Mr. Bloodlow to spare Deena's life.”
“Is that a threat?” Asa’s hand tightened around his gun.
“Let's call it a choice. Deena's life or your land.”
“So, you're the one behind all the stuff that's been happening around here.”
“You've been having trouble?”
The wretch had the audacity to look shocked. Bloodlow stood silently next to Morris, an amused grin on his face. Asa’s fingers itched to draw his gun and put bullets between both their eyes.
“Good thing I came when I did,” Morris continued. “Rumors that an entire town is having trouble with the Indians have a way of driving down property values. Unscrupulous land speculators could swoop in a snatch up your land for next to nothing. Not to worry, I'll give you a fair price.”
Asa took a threatening step toward Morris. Like a statue come to life, Bloodlow inserted himself between them.
"You high-binder bottom-feeder," Asa hissed.
"Mr. Grantt,” Morris tsked, wagging his finger from side to side. “Let's try to keep things civil. For everyone's sake. Take some time to think about my offer. We’ve traveled in for a short time, so how about we reconvene tomorrow morning? Then, you can give me your final answer."
With a pompous flurry, Morris spun on his heels, giving Asa his back. Bloodlow leaned in close.
Asa stood firm, refusing to cower.
“Think real hard about your decision,” Bloodlow said. “Bad things tend to happen to folk out here.” He drummed his fingers on the gun in his holster, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
Tipping his hat, Bloodlow turned and climbed into the wagon, next to Morris. They pulled off, leaving Asa fuming in his front yard. He’d have to handle them soon, but first, he now had a more pressing matter to attend to.
***
“Asa, I can explain,” Deena said as soon as Asa stormed through the front door. “I don't know what they told you, but I want to tell you the truth.”
She held her hands up as if she expected him to charge at her. Asa was so mad that it might not have been such a far-fetched notion if he were a different man. Her eyebrows furrowed, worry marring her enchanting face.
What sickened Asa the most was that even now, knowing that she’d lied and taken advantage of him, he wanted to hug her close until all her troubles faded away.
“How could you expect me to believe anything you have to say, Deena Lyon. Where is SaraGrace?”
No matter what was happening between him and Deena, Asa didn’t want his daughter witnessing him fussing at the woman she’d come to think of as her new mother.
“I sent her to play in her room.”
“Good.”
“This is what I was trying to tell you before Johnny ran up."
“Go ahead. Tell me whatever you think you can say to make what you did right.”
Deena tried to touch him, but Asa stepped out of her reach. She let her arm fall limp at her side.
“I can't make it right, but I can tell you why I did it.” She took a steadying breath, then squared her shoulders, and met his seething glare. “I’m not Pearl Wilson. I was pretending to be her. My name is Deena Lyon. My old master's son Mark gave me that name. Said I was his exotic pet like an African lion. He started taking advantage of me when I was sixteen. I couldn’t let him keep hurting me, so I decided to leave.
My mama gave me all the money she'd saved before the war. She’d been planning to buy our freedom but didn’t need it anymore. I begged her to come with me up North, but she said she was too old to make the journey. I was swindled out of most of my money by the end of my first week in the city. No one would hire me, and I refused to sell my body, so I started stealing to survive. Got real good at it. Before I came here, I lifted some stuff from Bloodlow. One of those things was a five thousand dollar bearer bond."
Asa’s knees wobbled. Her words sucker punched him in the gut. "Five thousand dollars! And you brought that with you here?"
"Yes, but I didn't know what it was," she rushed out.
"What do you mean? Didn’t you read it when you stole it?"
Deena broke their eye contact for the first time. She picked at her fingers and said in a small voice, “I don't know how to read. I took the paper to the missionary, Mr. Thompson, at the church and asked him to read it for me. I knew he was lying about what it was, so I asked Mrs. Paty.”
Asa raked a hand through his hair. He’d never imagined his frustration and anger could reach such heights. This situation was going from bad to worse.
“What in tarnation? Mrs. Paty knew? You dragged her into this mess?”
“Don't be mad at her. She told me to tell you. I wanted to but I was scared of losing you. Asa, I lov…"
Asa held up a hand, cutting off her declaration. "Don't you dare say that word,” he hissed. “I need some air."
Not giving her time to say anything else, Asa stormed from the house and headed to the barn. He needed to blow off some steam, so he could think rationally again. Rage, hurt, and disgust churned inside his gut, making him want to kick, punch, and scream at the heavens.
How could you do this to me, Lord?
He’d thought Deena was the one he could entrust his heart to. The one he’d been afraid he’d never find. A woman who loved him, scars and all.
What a fool he’d been.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Don’t cry, Mama,” SaraGrace said, lowering to her knees in front of Deena, who sat on the couch.
Deena had been so consumed by her sorrow that she hadn’t heard SaraGrace’s approach. She quickly wiped away her tears. Unfortunately, new ones sprang up in their place, making it hard for her to put on a happy face to comfort the little girl she’d come to love as much as she would her own flesh and blood.
“I can’t seem to make them stop,” Deena said through a watery smile. “But don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“Papa is mad at you?”
“Why do you think that?”
“I heard him. He used the voice he uses on me when I’m in trouble.”
Deena pulled SaraGrace in
to her lap and rubbed her back in small, soothing circles. How should she respond? Needless to say, she didn’t want her to think her father had done anything wrong.
“Yes, your papa is mad at me.”
“Why?”
“Because I lied to him. I didn’t tell the truth and that hurt his feelings.”
“Why did you lie?”
Innocent, honest questions, but each one pummeled Deena anew. Forcing her to face the ugly truth of her character.
“Because I was selfish. I was in trouble and wanted to protect myself.”
SaraGrace’s cute little nose wrinkled as she thought about what Deena said. “That’s not a bad thing.”
“It is when you are willing to hurt other people to protect yourself. We should never hurt other people. Even if they hurt us. I hurt your father—a wonderful man—because I only thought about what I wanted and needed. And now I’ve hurt you. Made you sad. I’m sorry, SaraGrace.”
“It’s okay, Mama. I forgive you.” SaraGrace hugged Deena with all her strength.
Deena held her closer as more tears welled in her eyes. Just like that, the little girl had absolved her of all her transgressions. No hesitation or conditions. Why couldn’t more people do that? Why couldn’t she do that with herself?
“Thank you, SaraGrace. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mama.” She drew back from the embrace and wiped Deena’s tears. “When Papa comes home, poke out your bottom lip like this when you tell him you’re sorry.” SaraGrace demonstrated the proper groveling technique. “He’ll forgive you if you do it right. He forgives me all the time.”
A snort of laughter bubbled up Deena’s throat and erupted from her mouth. She could point out that the reason Asa so easily caved to such under-handed tactics was SaraGrace was both his daughter and absurdly adorable. Two advantages Deena did not possess. But she couldn’t bring herself to squash the little girl’s hopes of helping mend the rift between Asa and her.
“That sounds like a grand idea. Thank you for sharing it.”
SaraGrace gave her a toothy grin. “You’re welcome. So, are you done crying now?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. I don’t like seeing you cry. Want to play dolls with me?”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Let me get them. I’ll be right back.”
Deena watched SaraGrace dash off to her room. She’d miss her something fierce. Asa would never bad-mouth her to SaraGrace, but Deena wondered what he’d tell her about why she was gone.
The thought of Asa sending her packing tore Deena up. It was the least she deserved, though. If he didn’t call the sheriff on her, that would be a blessing. Either way, she’d wait for him to come back and deliver his verdict. Because for the first time in a long time, she was tired of running from her problems.
She’d no longer be a coward. From now on, Deena Lyon would be a woman who faced her troubles and whatever consequences that came with them.
***
Asa slung his ax overhead and brought it down on the hunk of wood with a dense thunk. The wood split in two, each half falling into the piles on either side of the tree stump he used as a chopping block.
His arms burned from repeating the action countless times in the last half-hour. It had served its purpose, though. He’d thought long and hard about what he wanted to do and was pretty certain he’d made up his mind.
He rocked the handle up and down to wedge it out of the tree stump. Two more pieces, then he’d go inside and have another conversation with Deena. Asa picked up another log and placed it in the middle of the tree stump. Before he could swing the ax, a rider came tearing toward him, their horse running at full speed.
Asa waited until the rider came closer. It was Rob. He lodged the ax in the stump, then sat down and took a swig of water from his canteen while he waited for his brother to stop.
Raising a hand to keep the sun out of his eyes, he looked at Rob atop his mount. "Keep riding like that, and you're going to trip your horse and break your neck."
"Mr. Baile is dead,” Rob stated without preamble. “They found him on the edge of town scalped, and his throat slit."
Asa closed his eyes. Those bastards. "I know who did it." He opened his eyes, meeting his brother's stunned gaze.
Rob jumped from his saddle, landing next to him. "How? Who was it?"
"Two men by the names Benjamin Morris and Pete Bloodlow paid me a visit this morning." Asa rolled his shoulders, trying to dispel the tension drawing his muscles taut.
"And? What’s the rest of it? You know what I'm gonna ask next. Tell me the whole story."
"Deena isn't Pearl. She's a pickpocket from New York that somehow found out about me and Pearl's arrangement. She came here because she was running from Bloodlow. He’s some kind of outlaw in that city. She stole a five thousand dollar bearer bond from him."
"Five thousand dollars!" Rob whistled.
"Yup. He was out to kill her for it. Guess she thought she could hide out here since we’re so far away from New York."
Rob crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful as he tried to fit all the pieces together. "How'd he figure out she was here?"
"She can't read. She went to the missionary Mr. Thompson to have him read the paper to her. He told his boss Mr. Morris and…” Asa went still. “That's it!"
"What's what?”
Asa sprang up with more nimbleness than he’d been able to employ in a long time. “The missionary. That's how we prove it was them. Morris said an associate of his told him about Deena. Thompson is the missionary she went to, so he must be working for Morris, who has been causing all our trouble since he wants us to sell him our land. If we get the missionary to talk, he could give us what we need to show it was Morris and Bloodlow."
"Are you sure it's Thompson? Did Morris say he was the associate?"
"No, but Deena said she went to him to read the bearer bond. Hold on. Come with me." Asa took off toward his house.
He found Deena in SaraGrace’s room, lying on her stomach on the floor, playing dolls. His heart squeezed at the sight. They almost looked like a real mother and daughter, happily enjoying each other’s company.
Asa cleared his throat, getting their attention. "Deena, I need you to answer me truthfully."
She sat up and gave him her full attention. "Yes, of course."
"The man that came to see me. His name was Benjamin Morris. He owns Morris Land Company."
"Morris Land Company? That doesn’t sound familiar."
"He said that his associate told him you had the bond. I think that the associate is Mr. Thompson. Is he the only person you showed the bond to, besides Mrs. Paty?"
"Yes. He's the only one.” She snapped her fingers, then pointed at Asa. “When I went to the church, there was a map with the name Ruby Creek printed at the top, laying across one of the benches. I made sure to memorize those two words before I came here so I could recognize them if I needed to for any reason. There were also three more words on the map."
“Can you write what those three words looked like?”
“I think so. I can recreate what I saw.”
Asa scrambled to get her a piece of paper and a pencil. Deena slowly traced out the three words she’d seen.
Morris Land Company.
Rob and Asa exchanged knowing looks.
“Rob, I need you to stay here and look after Deena and SaraGrace for me,” Asa said, already making his way out of the room. “I'll go get the sheriff, and we'll go talk to Mr. Thompson.”
“Anything you need, brother.”
“Thank you.”
Deena followed him from the room. He didn’t pull away when she touched his arm.
“Asa, please be careful.”
Asa searched her face. The concern seemed genuine, a fact that exhilarated and saddened him. He didn’t know what he’d be facing in the next few hours. Morris and Bloodlow had proven themselves to be dangerous. This could very well be the last time he saw her, and
there was so much left unsaid between them.
There wasn’t time to say it all, so he said nothing. Asa nodded, then headed out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Asa crept along the side of the church with his gun drawn. Sheriff Griffin walked behind him, his gun still in the holster. For all his prancing about town puffing out his barrel chest as he boasted about how he’d put the fear of God in all the outlaws for miles around, it had been like pulling teeth getting the man to come along.
“Are you sure about this?” Sheriff Griffin asked. “Mr. Thompson is a man of God. I've had a drink with him a time or two at the saloon. Seems like an upstanding fellow. Accusing someone of murder isn’t a small thing.”
If he didn’t know any better, Asa would have guessed that the quaver in the sheriff’s voice meant he was scared. At least he had the good sense to whisper.
“Yes, I'm sure. And we're only going to talk to him.”
“Then, why do you have your gun drawn?”
Asa didn’t have time for this. Either the sheriff would come with him, or he wouldn’t. No matter what the other man did, his family's lives were in danger, and he’d get to the bottom of this one way or another.
“I'll go first,” Asa said over his shoulder.
He rounded the corner of the building and inched toward the front door. Standing next to the door, he called out, “Mr. Thompson, it's Asa Grantt. I came to ask you a few questions.”
No response came at first. Then, there was some shuffling and a loud thud. Sheriff Griffin finally pulled out his gun.
“Help,” a man inside the church called out. “He's trying to kill me.”
Asa busted through the door. At the front of the church, Bloodlow was tossing the benches aside, his gun drawn and pointed at the man crawling beneath them.
Asa aimed and fired. He missed.
Bloodlow glared at Asa, his top lip curled into a vicious snarl. He slammed the hammer of his revolver right after pulling the trigger to shoot three rapid-fire shots. Asa dived to the side, but not fast enough. A shot grazed his shoulder, causing searing pain to shoot through his arm.
