by Joyce Alec
“Oh?” Boyd Bretton’s attention was suddenly caught. “And why is that?”
Mr. Stewart looked embarrassed, aware that he had perhaps said too much. “It’s just that Simon was causing Annie here a few problems.”
Boyd Bretton’s eyes narrowed.
“And do you live anywhere near town, Mrs. Hartford?”
She swallowed her worry and lifted her chin to look at him directly. “I live outside of town, Mr. Bretton. However, I spent last evening trying to clean up the mess that my house was left in by an intruder.”
Boyd Bretton’s eyebrows almost reached his hairline, whilst Laura gasped in shock.
“Oh my,” Mr. Stewart gasped. “Why didn’t you say, Annie?”
“I’ve only just arrived in town after sweeping up all the broken glass from the bullets that were shot through my windows,” Annie replied, keeping her gaze fixed on Boyd Bretton. He had no expression on his face whatsoever but returned her gaze steadily. Annie found herself recoiling inwardly from his blank stare.
“What?” Laura breathed, one hand now pressed onto Annie’s arm. “What happened? Who did it?”
Annie shook her head, hoping that Laura would understand that she didn’t blame Joe for this. “I can’t tell.”
“That is shocking!” Mr. Stewart exclaimed, looking up at Boyd Bretton. “Well Mr. Bretton, it seems you’re gonna have one more thing to investigate, unless the two things are connected.”
Boyd Bretton sniffed, shrugged, and then rubbed his chin with one hand. “We’ll see,” he muttered, turning away from Annie and Laura. “I’d better go see how my men are getting on.”
Annie and Laura remained silent until Boyd Bretton and Mr. Stewart were out of earshot. Laura’s strength faded, as she slumped next to Annie, who had to wrap one arm around her waist to keep her standing.
“Are you all right?” she whispered, looking into Laura’s face. “Can you stand?”
“I’m fine.” With a few deep breaths, Laura stood upright again, even though she was trembling slightly. “It was just the shock of seeing him.” Her eyes filled with tears as Annie held her hands carefully, concerned that she might faint. It was obvious that seeing Boyd Bretton had thrown Laura into a panic.
“You have to warn Joe!” Laura whispered, her fingers tightening on Annie’s. “Please, Annie. Please tell him that Boyd Bretton is here. He can’t come back to town. Not now. It’s too dangerous.”
Annie sighed slowly, biting her lip for a moment. “Why is it dangerous, Laura?” she asked patiently. “Is it really because he took you away from them?”
A single tear dropped onto Laura’s cheek. “It’s more than that, but yes, Boyd Bretton did want me for his wife. He came after me for that, and I’m pretty sure that’s why Joe was shot. But the beating and the bruising…that was before we left town.”
“Why was he beaten?” Annie persisted, holding her friend’s gaze steadily. “You need to tell me, Laura, if you want me to help you.”
Laura’s gaze focused for a moment, only to flick behind Annie’s shoulder.
“Oh, it’s Robert,” she breathed, letting go of Annie’s hands. “I need to tell him about Boyd Bretton.” She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you what to do, Annie, but I know that Joe ain’t responsible for this. Go sit on your porch steps and talk, please. Tell him Boyd Bretton is here. Even if that’s all you do, it’ll be more than enough.” Her eyes bored into Annie’s, pressure mounting with every second that passed, until Annie finally sighed and nodded. Laura sniffed, blinking rapidly to stop her tears from falling. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re saving him in the way you saved me.”
Annie tried to smile. She tried to feel good about what she’d just agreed to, but in the back of her mind, she could not forget what Joe had said. He’d promised to help her with Simon, to do what he had to in order to get him to leave Annie alone. In her foolishness, she’d never asked what it was he intended to do. Now, Simon was dead. The two things sure felt like they were connected.
Making her way to the mercantile, Annie stopped in the threshold to see Judith – Mrs. Brinkley – wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. The sound of a baby crying came from the corner of the shop. To her surprise, Annie felt like joining in, such was the pain in her heart.
“Judith?” she asked softly, stepping inside. “Is everything all right?”
Judith wiped her eyes again and beckoned her in. “I’m just fine,” she replied, walking behind the counter. “I was just needing a bit of a cry, and I always say it’s best to let your tears out than keep them back.” She looked down fondly at cradle that sat in the corner, rocking it gently. Within seconds, the baby had stopped crying. “The news this morning took me by surprise.”
Annie nodded fervently. “Me too,” she murmured, wondering how she was ever going to be able to sort out everything she’d heard and seen and felt these last few hours. “Although I can’t be sure that anyone’s going to miss Simon.”
Something like steel entered Judith’s expression. Her eyes glinted, her jaw set firm, and she gazed directly back at Annie. “I sure ain’t gonna miss that wretch. The amount of trouble he brought my husband means that it’s nothing more than a relief that he’s gone.”
Annie frowned, leaning on the counter and watching Judith carefully. “What do you mean?”
Judith leaned forward, her cheeks suddenly bright. “I ain’t been able to speak of it before, but that man’s been upsetting a lot of people around this town, my husband included. There’s plenty of folks who wanted him gone, if you get my meaning.”
“I do,” Annie replied, her voice hoarse as her thoughts about Joe being responsible suddenly became fractured. “I didn’t know Simon was–”
“Threatening folk, demanding this and that, trying to rule this place,” Judith murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want to say this, and God forgive me for speaking ill of him now he’s gone, but whoever shot that man brought all of us poor folks a reprieve. We ain’t got to be afraid of him no more.”
“I see,” Annie whispered, her head beginning to ache suddenly. “I didn’t know anything about this, Judith.”
Judith gave a small shrug. “There ain’t needing to be any secrets now,” she said a little darkly. “Except, perhaps, the secret of whoever it was that shot him.” She arched one eyebrow in Annie’s direction.
Annie, suddenly afraid that Judith thought she was responsible, nodded. “I guess so,” she replied slowly. “Although I ain’t sure Boyd Bretton’s about to give up so easily. He’s on the hunt for blood, and I’m sure he’s going to get it.” Her thoughts turned back to Joe, back to what they had shared and discussed over the last few days. She was still wondering how her perception of him could have been so wrong.
A small sniff came from Judith’s direction, as if she didn’t think very much of Boyd Bretton or anyone else who was investigating the death. “Now,” she said. “What is it I can get you?”
Annie sighed to herself, knowing she would have to tell the story right from the beginning.
“Glass,” she replied slowly. “I need to buy some glass.”
8
The house was just as empty as it had been when she had left it. Sighing to herself, Annie placed down her bag of flour and a small container of sugar on the front steps, before leading her horse down to the field. The mare could go out to the field, and she’d let the foal out too.
Sighing to herself, Annie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, feeling exhaustion nip at her mind. She was tired. Not only from the night before, but also from the barrage of information and questions that now spun around her mind. She had so much to think about, so much to ask either Laura or Joe—if she was willing to sit and talk with him. What was it Laura had said? Sit on the porch steps in the evening and just wait for him?
Taking off the mare’s saddle, she let the mare out in the field and left the saddle where it was on the fence. The bride and reins she carried with
her back to the barn, ready to get the foal out with its mother.
And then, she saw it.
The huge black stallion that belonged to Joe was back in the barn. The barn she’d locked before she left.
She hadn’t even noticed that the barn was open.
Fear mingled with uncertainty, as she waited for him to appear, her hands slipping on the bridle as she tried to hang it back up. There was nothing but silence.
“Joe?” she asked, hating that her voice cracked as she said his name. “Joe, are you here?”
Nothing.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she collected herself. Then, going toward the foal, she soon had it out in the field. The stallion seemed desperate to be outside as well. Even though she had her doubts that she was doing the right thing, she led it outside carefully, and soon, the three horses were out to pasture together.
“Someone might see the stallion,” she said to herself, realizing that if Boyd Bretton appeared at her house, he might recognize the horse to be Joe and Laura’s. But, she reasoned, she could simply say that she was looking after it for Laura. After all, it wasn’t as though Boyd Bretton didn’t know that Laura was here. He was pretty suspicious that Joe was here, too.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she told herself firmly. “You ain’t got nothing to be afraid of.”
Except perhaps Joe.
Shaking the thought from her head, Annie walked back to the house, only to stop dead.
The windows had been boarded up.
Someone had been here, and she didn’t have to think twice as to who it would be. Joe had been here. Joe had done this. Joe was nearby somewhere.
Her stomach flipped over itself as she walked inside. She was half expecting Joe to appear at any moment. She didn’t know what she would say or what she would do if he did appear. She was torn between wanting to embrace him and thanking him for keeping her safe last night, or running as far away from him as possible, believing him to be a dangerous man.
There was no one else within, but she knew he had been here. The glass she had swept up into the corner was gone, the jagged windows no longer there. The stove had been relit too. On the kitchen table, there sat everything she would need to make herself some tea, including a small jug of milk and a plate of yesterday’s pancakes. There was jam set out, as well as the sugar, and there was a kettle on the stove.
A kettle that had only just begun to boil
Her heart leapt into her throat, as she looked all about her. She realized that Joe must either be somewhere inside, or had only just left when he’d seen her coming back to the house. He was doing everything he could to make sure she was safe and looked after, and yet, despite all this, Annie couldn’t forget about Simon.
There’s more to his life than he’s told you.
Laura’s words came back to her mind, as she sat down at the kitchen table. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she added the milk and picked up one of the pancakes she’d made for breakfast yesterday. They were almost stale, but still good enough to eat. Her stomach growled with thankfulness as she ate, her mind whirring over what Laura had said.
There was more to Joe than he’d told her. After all, they’d only known each other for less than a week, but still, she’d thought that they’d spoken enough to know a good amount about one another. But then she remembered just how little he’d talked about himself, just how much he’d tried to keep back. Laura had always told her that he was a good man, and Annie admitted that she desperately wanted to believe it.
Looking down at the plate of pancakes, Annie frowned as she saw a small note stuck underneath the plate. Her heart quickening, she lifted it out and unfolded it, reading the few scant lines quickly.
“I didn’t hurt Simon. When I got there, he was already dead. I need your help and your trust, Annie. Sit on the porch steps in the evening if you’re willing. Yours, Joe.”
That was all it said. Nothing more, nothing less. It was his word and nothing more. He said he hadn’t killed Simon, but it was up to her as to whether or not she believed him. If she was willing, she’d sit on the porch steps and wait for him to come to her and speak to her. She had so many questions, but yet, there was a reluctance to actually see him again.
A fear that, if she did, she’d let herself feel.
Closing her eyes, Annie put her head in her hands and groaned. That was the one thing she hadn’t wanted to notice. Still, there it was, staring at her and refusing to disappear completely.
When Joe had taken her in his arms, she’d felt something. Something wonderful. Something she’d never felt before in her life. It was as though her very heart was stirring within her, a tumultuous ocean of emotions that had threatened to steal her breath. The way his fingers had brushed down her cheek had sent sparks straight through her, pinning her to the spot. The way his eyes had lingered on hers, desperate for her to trust him, for her to believe in him, had sent warmth pooling in her very core. Despite the fear, despite the pain, she couldn’t deny that those feelings had been there. Feelings that she didn’t want to experience again if Joe turned out to be nothing more than a murderer.
He’s a good man.
Laura’s persistent words drove themselves into Annie’s heart. She had witnessed how Joe had looked after Laura, how he’d managed to get himself shot in an effort to keep her safe from Boyd Bretton. Did it matter what he had done in the past? Did she even need to know? Or was the man she was only beginning to know more than enough to satisfy her? Did what she knew about him mean that she could, in fact, trust him, regardless of what Boyd Bretton or even Laura said?
“Yes.”
The word rang around the room, knocking into the walls and sending spirals of reassurance into her chest. Sipping her tea, Annie thought carefully for a few more minutes before deciding that, yes, she would go out and sit on the porch steps a little later in the evening. Perhaps after she’d put the horses and the milk cow and calf back to the barn. There wasn’t a need for her to rush about the place, making sure the doors and windows were all bolted now that Simon was gone. She was free to live her life without fear, just as Joe had promised.
Refusing to let her thoughts become tangled any more than they already were, Annie poured herself another cup of tea, letting her eyes linger on the note he’d written her.
“‘Yours, Joe’,” she read aloud, her heart lingering on that phrase for a moment. Did it mean anything? Sighing heavily to herself, Annie picked up the letter and, without another thought, threw it into the fire. It was best that she didn’t leave it lying about, just in case the worst happened. If Boyd Bretton appeared, wanting to talk to her about what had happened, then she didn’t want to have it with her.
Then, even though it was much too early, she picked up her teacup, added a dash of milk and walked outside to the porch steps, sitting down carefully to wait for Joe. Her decision was made. Whether or not Joe had shot Simon, she would give him the time to speak and explain. At the very least, she owed him that.
“Annie?”
Annie jerked awake, her cold tea spilling over her hand.
“Careful, now.”
It took her a few seconds to realize where she was and what was happening. Joe was looking down into her face, the sunset brilliant behind him. She’d fallen asleep, her head resting against the porch rail as the cup of tea had sat on her lap.
“Joe,” she whispered, feeling immediately unsettled. “You’re here.”
“I am.” His smile was a little uncertain, as though he wasn’t quite sure she’d welcome him. He didn’t sit down next to her but instead stood in front of her porch steps, running one hand through his hair as he looked away, his expression strained.
“I’m guessing you’ve had a difficult day,” he said gruffly. “I know I said I’d be back, Annie, but things changed pretty quickly last night.”
She nodded slowly, feeling tense as he looked at her. She didn’t know what to make of him.
“I saw Laura this morning,” she said. “She…
she said a few things about you. She said there’s some things you’ve not told me.”
Joe sighed heavily, ran his hand through his hair again, and groaned. “I didn’t say anything, Annie, because I didn’t reckon on getting shot and having to stay at your place for a while. I did all I could to keep Laura safe, but that was all that mattered. Once I found a way to keep her away from Boyd Bretton for good, I planned on disappearing. Starting over somewhere else.”
Annie pressed her lips together to stop the torrent of questions from flooding out of her.
“There’s more to the story of Boyd Bretton than you know,” he continued, not looking at her. “More to who I am. It’s…it’s so hard to explain, and I know that, even if I tell you the truth, you might want nothing to do with me.” He spread his hands out wide. “That’s fair enough, Annie. If you decide to send me away, then I understand. There ain’t nothing wrong with that.”
“Joe,” she interrupted firmly, trying to quell the shaking inside. “Just tell me the truth.”
Joe sighed, rubbing one hand over his face. “The truth is, Annie, I’ve not always been a good man. Boyd Bretton is the deputy sheriff of Steerhorn, and he pretty much runs the town. Our old sheriff, Sheriff Dalton, he doesn’t do much.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “The man is old but won’t give up his position. He likes the grandeur of it, I guess. Anyway, he lets Boyd Bretton do whatever he wants, which means that Bretton’s been making a good living for himself doing just that.” Anger spiked across his face, his eyes darkening as he shot her a glance. “I had to fall in line.”
Annie swallowed, hard.
“It didn’t mean that I wanted to,” Joe continued, clearly deeply convicted about this. “I sure didn’t want to do whatever he asked me, but the man held one thing over my head. One thing I couldn’t turn from.”
Annie blinked rapidly, seeing the agony in his eyes. “Laura.”
Another sigh ripped from him. “Yes. Laura. Bretton told me just how much he wanted her for his wife, along with just how he’d expect her to behave…and what he’d do to her if she didn’t.”
