by Joyce Alec
“I said, that’s enough, Bretton.”
“Joe,” Annie said weakly. “Joe, don’t do this. Please.”
Joe ignored her completely, remaining exactly where he was. “What do you want with me, Bretton?”
A dark chuckle escaped from Boyd Bretton’s throat. “I want you, Joe. You’re gonna take the blame for Simon’s death, and then I’m gonna get you back to Steerhorn, where you’ll be in jail waiting on the punishment for your crimes.” He tipped his hat back, a wide grin on his face. “I’m sure I can stretch out your time in that cell for as long as I want. Make it a lesson for the other men so that they’ll know what’ll happen if they ever turn their back on me.”
Annie shook her head, trying to think of a way to stop Joe from doing this, to stop Bretton from gaining the only thing he’d wanted.
“But I didn’t shoot Simon,” Joe replied quietly, his gaze flickering to Annie for just a moment. “I had nothing to do with that.”
Bretton laughed again, setting Annie’s teeth on edge. “Oh, but you did. You heard what he was doing to Annie here. You saw the attack on her place, and you thought to put it right. You thought to shoot the man behind it all so that he wouldn’t hurt no one else.”
Annie wanted to do something. She wanted to say something, but she found herself standing in her kitchen, empty handed. There was nothing she could think of that would help Joe stand up to Bretton, and certainly nothing she could do to prove that Simon hadn’t been killed by Joe. But if she let Bretton go, if she let him take Joe away and shout to the townsfolk that Joe had killed Simon, then there was every chance that she’d never see Joe again.
There was every chance that Joe would face the ultimate price for a crime he didn’t commit. Annie was forced to close her eyes for a moment, swaying where she stood. She didn’t want to think of a world without Joe. The way they’d sat together on the porch steps last night, the way he’d been so open and vulnerable with her, telling her the truth about his past and the kind of man he’d been. All of that had done something to her heart. It was something that wasn’t going to go away any time soon. She wanted Joe in her life. She wanted Joe to be here, with her.
And that meant, she couldn’t let Bretton take Joe away.
“I didn’t kill Simon, Bretton,” Joe said firmly. “You can’t prove it.”
Bretton shrugged, his hands planted firmly on his hips. “Oh, I don’t need to prove it, not if you admit to it,” he replied with a small shrug. “So here’s how the story is going to go. You came up here to the house. Perhaps you’ve been sleeping in the barn.” He shot a look at Annie, but she refused to let her eyes linger on him. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on Joe’s expressionless face.
Bretton tipped his head, a small, scornful smile tugging at his lips. “You saw Simon knock on the door and wait. You saw him knock again and heard Mrs. Hartford here call out to ask who it was. You saw his impatience, his frustration, and his anger. You watched him shoot the door and then the windows. You were afraid that he might have hurt Mrs. Hartford. You were afraid that he might have finally gone too far in his desperation to get Mrs. Hartford to marry him, and so, in an attempt to do the right thing, you went on up to town to speak to him.” He shrugged and pulled out the gun from his belt, holding it steadily in Joe’s direction.
Joe didn’t move, but his eyes rested on Annie’s, warm and open despite the terrifying situation they found themselves in.
“Simon refused to do what you asked,” Bretton finished, as though he were telling a grand tale where Joe and Annie were hanging onto his every word. “And so, because he threatened the lovely Mrs. Hartford again, you had no other choice. You shot him with his own gun.”
“And then what?” Annie asked hoarsely, her mind scrambling to think clearly. “You expect folks to believe that Joe just hung around town after that, instead of running away?”
There was a short silence. Bretton looked to be thinking for a moment, his brows lowering, only for them to shoot back up again as he grinned at her.
“I’m guessing that Joe had something – or someone – to stay for,” he answered, arching one eyebrow at her. “After all, this is where I found him.” He sighed, shaking his head as though he thought this was a truly sorry tale. “I’m afraid these townsfolk might not take so kindly to you any more, Annie.
She snorted, trying to push him off balance. Bretton’s gun wavered in his hand as he looked at her, but Joe didn’t move an inch.
“What’s so funny, Mrs. Hartford?” There was a hard tone to Bretton’s voice, which made her shudder inwardly. She forced herself to remain completely still, as she looked back at him.
“I think you’re gonna find, Bretton, that the townsfolk are all pretty pleased with Simon being gone from this earth. He wasn’t a good man by all accounts, and it turns out I wasn’t the only one he was threatening.” She paused for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Seems like he was very much like you in that way.”
Bretton chuckled, his gun now a little away from Joe. Annie caught his searching glance as she looked at him desperately, praying that he’d take this chance she was trying to give him. She didn’t want to be separated from Joe, but to know that he was alive and free from Bretton would be better than knowing he was in Bretton’s custody and could be put to death at any time for a crime he didn’t commit.
And then something hit her, hard. Bretton had slapped her across the face, sending her spiraling to the floor. She staggered but managed not to collapse completely. Her eye was suddenly burning from the pain.
“You don’t know me at all,” Bretton whispered, hauling her up by her hair. A scream left her mouth as she saw Joe start to move towards them. However, even in her agony, she held up one hand, begging him silently not to come near her. As Bretton leaned over her, spitting angry words into her face as she was forced to rear back, she gestured as best she could with one hand in Joe’s direction. She was trying to get him to leave. She wasn’t the one in danger, not really. Joe had to take this chance.
“What do you have to say to that?” Bretton finished. She was bent even further back as he leaned over her, his hand still grabbing her hair. “You still think you know me, Mrs. Hartford? You still think you know everything there is to know about it all?”
She looked up at him in a haze of pain, her head screaming with agony as he twisted his fingers in her hair. And yet, the words came to her mind, and she spoke them without hesitation.
“I trust Joe,” she replied hoarsely. “He’s done nothing but tried to look out for the people he loves – first his sister and then for me. I’m glad to be able to help him in the same way he helped me. I won’t let you take him, Bretton, no matter what lies you tell or what stories you spin.” Her eyes slammed closed, screwing up her face as he growled at her, his hand tightening even more. “You can threaten me all you want, but you ain’t gonna win.”
He spat on the floor by her feet and hauled her upright. “Win?” he roared, his face burning red with rage. “I’ve already won, Annie. I got myself a prize right here. The man who turned away from me is about to get himself thrown in jail, waiting until I decide it’s his last day here on earth.”
She looked at him steadily, her arms folding across her chest as she steadfastly ignored the pain shooting through her head. “Is that so, Mr. Bretton?” she murmured, tipping her head a little to one side. “You’re quite sure about all that, are you?”
Bretton made to reply before putting her in her place, only for his face to go a deathly white. Slowly, he turned around and saw the empty space where Joe had been standing only minutes before. A scream of rage left his lips, as he charged towards the front door, throwing it open and running outside, shouting Joe’s name.
Annie ran to lock it behind him, her fingers shaking as she turned the key in the lock. She had no idea where Joe was but prayed silently that he would stay safe and that he would make his escape from this place. She knew she might never see him again and that brought her a deep, wre
nching pain, but just to know that he was free and that he wouldn’t be facing a firing squad for a murder he hadn’t committed brought her a good deal of relief.
“Be safe, Joe,” she whispered, her head resting against the door for a moment as she felt tears rush to her eyes, the pain in her head and her face throbbing together. “And don’t come back here in a hurry.”
10
The next few hours passed slowly for Annie. She felt herself growing increasingly desperate to think of a way to clear Joe’s name and to try and prove that Bretton was not a man to be trusted. However, the only thing she could think of was to get Laura to tell the townsfolk exactly what Bretton had done. The only problem was that, aside from whether Laura had the courage or not to do something like that, she’d have to tell the truth about what Joe had been like and the kind of things he’d done. She couldn’t guarantee that the rest of the townsfolk would understand in the same way that she had. They might not only turn against Laura, but also against her. She’d be causing more trouble and not helping any of them.
Lifting the cool cloth from her face, she opened and closed her eye gingerly. When Bretton had slapped her, his finger must have caught her right in the eye, because it was terribly swollen and rather painful. Nothing that a cold compress wouldn’t help, but it was a reminder that the man was capable of a good deal more than just a slap across the face. Her strength and courage was fading as the hours passed by, leaving her feeling with that old familiar feeling of loneliness and isolation.
She was glad that Joe had done what she’d been praying he’d do, but the thought of never seeing him again was beginning to tear at her. If she was honest with herself, she’d found a closeness with Joe that she’d not found with anyone else in her life before – and that was without even knowing him particularly well. He’d managed to chase away her doubts and fears and had put hope in its place. The way he’d been vulnerable with her, the way he’d laid everything bare, it had spoken to her heart. Finally, she’d been able to give him her complete trust, believing that he hadn’t hurt Simon and that he wasn’t responsible for his death.
And now, she’d have to go back to a life without him. A life without his company. Even though he’d only spent less than a week in her house, recovering from his injuries, they’d spent a long time talking and sharing together. He’d not always said much about himself in those early days, but he’d always listened to her with a genuine interest. To wake up in the morning and know that she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to over breakfast or to share the rest of her day with was a hard truth to accept, but she knew she would have to simply get used to being alone again. She would have to get used to a life without him being there.
“And a life without Simon,” she murmured to herself, idly stirring her tea. That, at least, was a blessing. She remembered how Judith had spoken to her, revealing her relief that Simon was gone, and Annie couldn’t help but feel the same.
“Annie? Annie!”
She frowned, hearing the sound of Laura’s voice at the door.
“Annie?”
It was joined by another, deeper voice. As she got to her feet, she heard yet another voice call her name.
“It’s Mr. Stewart, Annie. Are you there? Can you let us in?”
Hurrying to the door, she opened it wide, only for Laura to throw herself into Annie’s arms, tears on her cheeks. Annie held her tightly for a moment, as Robert and Mr. Stewart stepped over the threshold.
“Better lock that up,” Mr. Stewart muttered to his son, as he gave Annie a small, rather wane smile. “Bretton’s still on the hunt.”
“Oh, Annie,” Laura wailed. “He’s looking for Joe. He’s going to kill him!”
“I know, I know,” Annie murmured, as Laura finally detached herself from her. “He was here. Joe, I mean. And Bretton too.”
Laura wiped her eyes, only for them to widen as she looked back at Annie.
“What happened?” she breathed, looking at Annie’s eye. “Did Bretton…?”
Remembering the mark on her face from Bretton’s strong hand, Annie nodded. “It’s not hurting much, Laura,” she said, trying to reassure her. “It’s just fine. Really. Now come on into the kitchen and let me fix you some tea and you can tell me why you’re all out this way.”
Robert shook his head, his jaw set as he wrapped one arm around Laura protectively. “Bretton did that to you?”
Annie nodded, walking into the kitchen. “He didn’t much like what I was saying. As I said, Joe was here, trying to protect me, but I got him to leave. To run, I guess.” She planted her hands on her hips, turned around, and fixed Mr. Stewart with a hard stare. “If you’re here to tell me that you think Joe’s the one who killed Simon, and you’re wanting me to help you catch him, then I can promise you that I won’t be doing anything of the kind.”
Mr. Stewart watched her for a moment before dropping his head. “No, Annie,” he said slowly. “We don’t believe Joe did it. Laura’s told us everything about Bretton. I confess I was taken in by the man. I thought that since he was deputy sheriff it meant we could trust him.”
“Corrupt,” Robert spat, helping Laura to sit down at the table. “And now seeing this—” he indicated Annie’s face. “It just goes to prove that he’s not the man he wants us to believe he is.” He shook his head, his eyes blazing with anger. “Did he think that we wouldn’t see you like this? That you wouldn’t tell someone what he’d done?”
“I guess not,” Annie replied, as the kettle began to boil. “He’s used fear and intimidation, and just knowing he’s out there, in our town, makes me want to stay right here.” She shuddered violently for a moment, remembering how he’d practically spat in her face, how angry his eyes had been, how every muscle in his body had been tensed and taut. “But you’re right about Joe. He wants to put the blame for Simon’s death on him.”
“We want to do something to stop that,” Robert murmured, holding his wife close. “Bretton’s been busy telling everyone about Joe. The whole town knows that Bretton’s looking for him and that he blames him for Simon’s death.” He shook his head, his gaze fixing onto his wife. “But I trust Laura. I believe what she says about Joe, even if I don’t agree with everything he’s done in the past.”
Laura shook her head, her chin dropping to her chest. “You don’t understand,” she replied hoarsely. “Joe had no choice. He was protecting me.”
Robert hesitated, before sighing and tugging her all the closer. “I can imagine that must have been terrible for you both,” he said softly. “I’m sorry if I came off as being harsh. I just want to help.” He looked up at Annie, his expression firm. “That’s why we’re here, Annie. We want to help Joe. It ain’t right if he’s to take the blame for something he didn’t do.”
Laura sniffed and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Where’s Joe, Annie?”
Her heart grew sad. “I don’t know, Laura,” she replied quietly. “He left the house whilst Bretton was distracted, and I can’t be sure where he went. I’m just praying he’s gone for good. Bretton wants his blood and, from the looks of it, is fairly determined to get it.”
Shaking her head, Laura looked up at Annie with misery etched on her features. “But he won’t, Annie. He won’t go anywhere, not if Bretton’s still here. Not if he thinks that you or I is in danger. He’ll be watching and waiting, ready to put himself on the line for either one of us.”
Annie swallowed hard, a lump of fear settling in her throat. “I sure hope not,” she said firmly. “He can’t come back. Bretton’s got everything set out. He told Joe the whole story, right from the very beginning…” She trailed off, her hand stilling on the teapot for a moment as something came back to her.
“What is it, Annie?” Mr. Stewart asked, getting to his feet. “What’s wrong?"
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead with her hand. “I-I’ve just remembered something,” she said slowly, her body suddenly abuzz with an almost frantic excitement. “Something Bretton said that I hadn’t t
old him.” Opening her eyes, she felt herself tremble with the sudden realization of what this meant. “He told Joe that he had seen Simon knock on the front door of my house, and that he’d heard me call out to ask who it was and then saw Simon knock again before shooting bullets at my door and then at my windows. Of course, that was impossible since Joe was in the house with me, but Bretton was saying all that to show Joe the story that he’d use to put the blame for Simon’s murder on him.”
Mr. Stewart frowned, clearly not understanding. “What does that matter?”
With shining eyes, Annie turned to him. “Because I only ever talked to you and Bretton about the attack on my house, Mr. Stewart,” she replied quickly. “Can you remember what I said? Did I ever mention that someone had been knocking on my door?”
Mr. Stewart blinked, then drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening.
“No,” he breathed, one hand now grasping the back of the chair. “No, you sure did not.”
Annie allowed herself a half smile. “Then how did he know?” she asked softly. “How did he know about that knocking unless he was there to witness it?”
“Unless he was the one at your door,” Robert suggested, making Annie catch her breath at the thought. “Perhaps he knew – or suspected that Joe was there and was trying to lure him out.” He shrugged, looking down at Laura for a moment. “After all,” he continued, his voice low, “it’s not as though Bretton cares who he hurts. Simon was a bad one, sure, but I don’t reckon he’d have tried to kill you, Annie.”
Annie hesitated before nodding. That was true. Simon had been violent, angry, and aggressive, but she’d never thought him capable of killing her outright, not even in his worst moments.
“Then it was Bretton at my door – or one of his men at least, trying to see if Joe was inside,” she murmured to herself. “But why didn’t they just come and grab him when we were running to the barn, or when he was riding out to town?”
