by Joyce Alec
“Martin,” Jessie whispered, closing her eyes at his touch. “I… I want to tell you—”
He didn’t mean to do it. He hadn’t had any particular thought of what to do next, but in the middle of her speaking, he leaned down and kissed her—hard.
The contact made them both start, and he felt Jessie freeze in place for a moment, before relaxing against him. His mind was screaming at him to stop, to tell her the truth about everything before he started something he couldn’t forget about, but he quelled his thoughts and ignored the warnings ringing in his head. Jessie was warm and soft, her hands gripping his shirt as he kissed her. Her eyes were still closed as he lifted his head and looked down at her.
Then, her lips curved into a beautiful smile and she opened her eyes, a wonderous expression on her face.
“What were you going to tell me?” he asked, his voice gruff with emotion. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but he sure didn’t regret it, not when she was looking up at him like that.
Jessie shook her head, her smile lingering. “Nothing important,” she replied, pressing one hand to his cheek. “But I’m guessing we ought to take things slow, Martin.” Her smile faded, a seriousness taking over her expression. “My husband’s only two weeks dead, and even though I never cared for him, I don’t want folk thinking bad of either you or me.” She tilted her head just a little, her eyes searching his face. “Besides that, I want the sheriff to do his job and find out who’s responsible,” she finished decisively. “I don’t want to complicate things for him or make him question… things.”
Aware of what she was trying to say, Martin nodded and smiled at her, feeling relieved that Jessie wanted to move ahead slowly. It would give him time to work out what it was he wanted, and what he really felt for her. He hadn’t intended on kissing her like that, but now that he had, he certainly didn’t regret it. It had been both wonderful and terrifying.
“You don’t want the sheriff to suspect that there was anything between us before now,” he said, as she nodded and stepped back from him. “That’s wise, Jessie.”
“And,” she continued, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment, “I’ll admit that this ain’t something I’ve ever felt before, Martin.” She looked up at him and smiled. “I’m a girl from a tiny little town, who never knew what it was like to feel anything here.” She pressed her hand to her heart, her eyes bright. “You know from the letters I wrote you why I came out here. I had no prospects back there, other than to keep house for my ma and pa, which my sister and her husband do just as well.” She lifted one shoulder, a little embarrassed. “I guess I never expected to feel anything for my husband, no matter who it was I married.”
Clearing his throat and thrown a little off balance by the mention of marriage, Martin shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “You don’t have to explain, Jessie. I get what you’re trying to say.”
A look of relief radiated across her features. “Thank you, Martin.” Turning her face back towards the expanse of sand, she let out a long breath. “Then let’s get on and find this gun,” she said, half to herself. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”
“There it is!”
Martin let out a breath of relief as he and Jessie looked down at the gun which was half hidden by a pile of sand.
“I can’t believe you found it,” he murmured, reaching down to pick it up. Looking at her, he saw her bite her lip and felt guilt rush all through him. He’d been wanting to find this gun for both their sakes, awash with relief that David Peters hadn’t found it before them. It meant that the man would have no proof other than his word that either Jessie or Martin had shot Adler.
“What are you going to do with it?” she asked quietly, looking up at him with a calmness that he was sure she did not feel. “Just pretend like we never had it that night?”
He let out a long breath, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to do. If they never made mention of the gun, then the sheriff wouldn’t know anything about it. Even if David Peters went to tell him what he’d supposedly overheard, then they could both just deny it. That would make it obvious that David Peters was lying, which would mean the sheriff wouldn’t be inclined to believe him, surely.
But then, he’d be asking Jessie to lie. He’d have to explain why he was asking her to keep the truth from the sheriff, which might make her doubt him.
“I want to protect you,” he said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. “But I don’t want to ask you to lie.”
Jessie looked at him carefully. “You said we could take this to the sheriff, tell him everything about it, but I can see you don’t really want to,” she stated in a low voice. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to, Martin?”
He drew in a long breath. “There is,” he replied heavily. “I’m afraid that the gun can be used against me. That someone… someone will make out that I asked you to throw the gun into the sand to hide the fact that I’d shot Adler.”
“Because it wasn’t a rifle that shot Adler,” Jessie murmured, her eyes thoughtful. “And that’s the only other gun you’ve got on your property.”
Nodding, Martin ducked his head. “But you’re right, Jessie. We ought to tell the sheriff the truth. There’s nothing right in keeping this from him.” His mind began to scream at him, fear that he’d be seen as guilty rushing straight through him, but he gritted his teeth and kept his resolve steady. “You go to the sheriff with this, Jessie. I gotta head out to the farm.”
She looked surprised. “The farm?”
He nodded again and took in another steadying breath. In kissing her, something had come to life. He did not want to let Peters run roughshod over them both and, even if it meant that Peters would do what he’d threatened, at least he’d be protecting Jessie. “There’s something I gotta do,” he said, touching her cheek gently. “Trust me, Jessie. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
“Mr. Armstrong.”
Martin turned his head and saw David Peters walking towards him, a mocking smile plastered on his face. Martin felt his gut twist with anger, his heart needled with a flicker of fear, which only sent a wave of fury through him.
“Peters,” he said firmly. “I want you to pack up your things and head on out of here.”
Peters looked a little surprised, but Martin held himself steady. Something had shifted this morning when he’d held Jessie in his arms. He’d felt his heart burst with a fiery intensity that had forced him to reconsider what he was doing. He wasn’t going to let Peters threaten him or Jessie. Reuben was right to say that letting Peters stay on wasn’t the sort of thing he’d expected from Martin, and Martin had seen his own weakness in that.
“You know what I’ll do,” Peters replied smoothly. “Is Mrs. Jackson prepared to swing from the gallows?”
The fear that ran through Martin at that question took his breath away, stealing his voice for a moment or two. “That’s not going to happen, Peters,” he managed to say in a voice that didn’t hold as much certainty as he’d wanted. “You’ve got nothing that will prove Jessie did anything to Adler. I’ve spoken to the sheriff plenty, and so has she.”
Peters tilted his head. “Not even if I have the gun she shot him with?” He grinned, his eyes darkening. “I’ll have to confess to the sheriff that I saw her shoot the man and then ride off into the darkness, that I found the gun and kept it hidden, worrying about what it would do to her if I told the sheriff the truth.” He sighed heavily, his expression growing mournful. “But, of course, I couldn’t keep such a thing to myself, not when it was a man’s life. I know Adler Jackson treated his wife cruelly which is why I haven’t spoken up before now.”
Martin lifted his chin. “You’re not going to win in this, Peters,” he replied sharply. “We already found the gun that Jessie took, the one I got her to throw away into the sand.” He saw a flicker of anger in the man’s eyes, making him believe that Peters had been looking for the gun and hadn’t been able to find it. “Jessie’s gone to the sheriff right now to tell him
about it. I told her to. The sheriff will believe her, don’t you worry about that.” He tilted his head, holding Peters’ gaze steadily. “You’re to get gone from this place, Peters. I’m not taking no for an answer.” Taking a step forward, he saw Peters shrink back just a little, giving him a fierce sense of victory. “I want you gone by tomorrow, Peters. I don’t know why you were so desperate to stay here, or what it is you’re really after, but this place won’t be yours. It never will be. Copper Peaks ain’t ever gonna be a place for you.”
David Peters glared at Martin, his lip curling. “Don’t go pushing this, Armstrong. It’ll be all the worse for you.”
“You do what you want,” Martin replied indifferently. “I’m not afraid of your threats.” The only thing he wanted to do was to keep Jessie safe and to ensure that she wasn’t blamed for Adler’s death. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get on back to town. I got the sheriff to talk to.”
Turning around, Martin headed back towards his horse, his steps firm and his heart steady with resolve. He’d done the right thing, he knew that now. He ought to have never let Peters threaten him in the first place. He ought to have gone right back to the sheriff and told him everything, even though it would’ve given the sheriff the idea that Martin had more than enough reason to kill Adler. He’d defend himself in whatever way he had to, determined not to let Peters get the upper hand. That wasn’t the kind of man he was, dishonest and cowardly. Nor was he the kind of man who would kill another man in the darkness of the night, no matter what the man had done to him. The sheriff would have to either take his word for it or not. Whatever the consequences were going to be, Martin was determined to get the whole truth out.
A sudden, sharp pain sliced across the back of his head. Staggering, he felt it again, sending him spiraling into darkness.
He didn’t even feel himself hitting the ground.
9
“I sure am sorry I didn’t tell you about this before,” Jessie said apologetically, finding herself quite unable to look into the older man’s face. “I ought to have told you everything, I know, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was afraid you’d think Martin had something to do with it.”
The sheriff let out a long, heavy sigh and shook his head. “I know Martin had a lot of reasons for wanting to get even with Adler,” he pointed out, “but the truth is, I don’t think Martin’s got it in him to kill a man stone dead. He ain’t that sort.”
Jessie nodded. “I know that now,” she admitted softly. “I guess I thought I was doing the right thing, in trying to protect Martin.”
“And the gunshots?” the sheriff asked intently. “You still sure about those?”
Jessie closed her eyes. “No, Sheriff, but he can’t have been more than a minute or so later.”
The sheriff sighed heavily and ran one hand over his hair, looking somewhat disappointed with her. “So you heard the gunshots first and then Martin came and found you. He didn’t find you at the same time as the shots rang out.”
Jessie lifted her chin. “Sheriff, everything that night was terrifying but one thing I am sure of. You told me that Adler was shot back at the ranch, and there’s a good bit of distance between the ranch and where Martin found me. There was no possible way for Martin to have shot Adler back at the ranch and then have found me a minute later, not even if his horse was riding like the wind.”
Again, the sheriff let out a heavy sigh, his brows furrowing as he looked at her. “I know you wanted to protect Martin by not telling me about the gun, but that wasn’t right, Jessie. I need to know everything about what happened.”
Nodding, Jessie dropped her gaze, feeling all the more ashamed. “I really am sorry, Sheriff. It’s just that Martin’s been so kind to me that I didn’t want anyone to think he was involved. You can’t know just what it was like to hear Adler talk about Martin in the way he did.” She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut tight for a moment. “Adler wanted to make sure that he got the best of Martin, and that Martin knew it, too. I don’t know why he was so mean, but he sure did want to make Martin miserable and bitter. I was afraid you’d think that Martin had good reason to kill Adler, which is why I didn’t tell you about the gun before now.”
“And did Martin ask you not to tell me?” the sheriff asked, probing a little further into what had happened. “Did he ask you not to say anything?”
She shook her head before fixing her eyes on the sheriff, praying that he’d believe her. “Martin wanted us to find the gun and then told me to take it on back to you,” she replied, choosing to concentrate on what Martin had said and done when they’d found the gun that afternoon. “Listen, Sheriff, I offered to pretend we’d never had it, to tell you nothing about it, but he told me straight. He’s as afraid as I am that someone will think he shot Adler and then used me to hide the gun out on the plain.”
The sheriff nodded slowly. “I can understand that,” he replied wearily. “I have to say that I can’t take this lightly, Jessie. I gotta look at all the facts and take things from there. If Martin had a gun, then I have to consider him. He had good reason to shoot Adler dead.”
“So did I,” Jessie replied without thinking. “But you don’t believe that I did anything of the sort, do you?”
“Because you say you didn’t have a gun,” the sheriff reminded her. “And Adler’s men never made mention of you having one either. None of them are blaming you, Jessie, but none of ‘em even mentioned seeing Martin about that night. What did he say he was doing again?”
“Fetching a couple of his cattle back that had gotten out somewhere,” Jessie answered, her heart sinking to her toes.
The frown deepened on the sheriff’s face. “And did you see those cattle, Jessie?”
This had been the question she’d been dreading, knowing that she’d have to tell the truth. “I didn’t, Sheriff, but he says he’s got them a little ways out on the plain. By a shack.”
“Why didn’t he just take ‘em back to the ranch?” the sheriff mused, speaking half to himself. “As far as I know, Martin hasn’t got any more land except for the ranch he owns. So why’d he keep some cattle someplace else?”
Trying to think of some explanation, Jessie stared at the sheriff hopelessly, blood roaring in her ears as she saw the sheriff frown.
“He didn’t have nothing to do with Adler’s death,” she protested weakly. “I know he didn’t. You know Martin, Sheriff. You told me yourself he’s a good man.”
“A good man who might have been pushed too far,” the sheriff replied grimly. “I know you care about Martin, Jessie, but I’m gonna have to talk to him. Not all of this makes sense, as far as I’m concerned.”
Jessie shook her head, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “No, Sheriff, you can’t,” she pleaded, desperation growing in her heart. “You gotta listen, you have to believe me when I tell you he just couldn’t have made it to where I was in time!”
“Martin knows that land from top to bottom,” the sheriff argued as he got to his feet, making it clear that their discussion was at an end. “I’m grateful to you for coming to talk to me in the way you did, Jessie, but I have to do my duty. I need to talk to Martin, and that’s all I’m saying. Don’t go fretting yourself that I’m about to throw him in jail or get the gallows ready—that’s not what I’m doing.”
Jessie nodded blindly, her eyes burning with tears. “I understand, Sheriff,” she whispered in a broken voice. This hadn’t gone at all the way she’d thought.
“On you go, now,” the sheriff said, a good deal more gently. “You did the right thing in coming to tell me, Jessie. Head on home, why don’t you? I’ll go find Martin, and after that, I’ll make sure you know what I’ve decided.”
She walked out of the sheriff’s office without another word, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest. She’d thought she’d go in and talk to the sheriff and he’d just accept her explanation. Instead, he’d decided that there was a chance that Martin was guilty, even though she had tried to expla
in that there wasn’t any way for that to be possible.
Putting her bonnet back on her head, Jessie forced one foot in front of the other, resisting the urge to find her horse and ride out to Martin’s ranch. She had to let the sheriff do what he needed to, without doing anything foolish. Surely, once Martin explained, the sheriff would believe he was entirely innocent.
But what was he doing out there that night?
Again, the quiet worry began to spike back up in her mind. She’d made a choice to believe Martin, to trust that he hadn’t done anything to hurt Adler, but what he’d told her about that night hadn’t ever been proven. She’d never seen the cows that he’d supposedly lost, she’d never seen him bringing them back to the ranch. There wasn’t a simple explanation as to why he’d left them out on the plains instead of bringing them home. She closed her eyes as she pushed the door to her house open, letting herself lean back against it for a moment.
“I still choose to trust you,” she said aloud, as though, somehow, he could hear her. “I’m not going to turn my back on you, Martin. Not after what you’ve done for me. I know you’re not a murderer; you’re not the sort of man to shoot another man down in cold blood. I trust you.”
Her words echoed across the empty room, leaving her feeling cold and alone. What was Martin doing at the farm? What was it he’d had to do? And why hadn’t he told her about it?
“Jessie? Jessie!”
Jessie turned towards the door, seeing it fly open as Hettie Drummond hurried inside. She looked frantic, her face white as milk, her fingers grasping Jessie’s hands.
“What’s the matter?” Jessie asked, a little confused at seeing Hettie in such a state. “Is something wrong?”
Hettie shook her head wordlessly. “Oh, Jessie. The sheriff’s gone and put Martin in the jail.”
