Another Dawn

by Deb Stover

  Shit.

  The only sound Luke heard was the thunder of his own heart, but he took comfort in the knowledge that the other man wouldn't be able to see him either. All things were equal in the dark. It didn't matter who was bigger or faster or stronger. Even a gun wouldn't do much good in the dark.

  Luke pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear any sounds from the parlor. All he heard were muffled, unidentifiable voices. They could've been male, female, or both.

  Resuming his position flat against the wall, he remained totally still, figuring his only chance was to out-wait the other guy. Sooner or later...

  A shuffling sound jerked Luke's attention to the other side of the closed door. He still couldn't see anything, except that sliver of light spilling under the door.

  Carefully, he looked across the patch of light to the far edge, sweat trickling down his forehead and stinging his eyes. He blinked, then looked again to make certain he wasn't imagining things.

  The patch of light was almost a square, with straight lines on three sides. However, the fourth side–directly across from Luke–wasn't quite straight. Something on the floor marred the line. Something unmistakable. Luke's blood turned the consistency of a slurpee.

  Ten human toes.

  Sofie tried to stop her trembling as she pulled Jenny closer. Huddled together on the settee, they stared at the crazed man standing a few feet away, firelight gleaming off the barrel of his gun. She knew the back door had been bolted, but Frank Latimer still found a way into the house.

  And his intentions were clear.

  "So you was there when your daddy got killed," Latimer said rather than asked. His gaze narrowed as he took a step closer, then stopped again. "Tell Uncle Frank what you seen, girl. A man's gotta right to know who killed his own kin."

  A convulsive wave went through Jenny, and Sofie wrapped her arms even more tightly around the child. No one had to tell her who had killed Charlie Latimer. Though she'd suspected before, now she knew for certain. What kind of man would murder his own brother?

  Frank took another step, raising his gun higher. "C'mon, girl, what'd you see?" he barked, brandishing his heavy weapon as if it weighed nothing. "I ain't got all night."

  Jenny shook her head, and Frank's face darkened. He shook the gun toward her. "How am I gonna help Shane if you don't tell me, girl? How?"

  The child shook her head again and Sofie prayed.

  "Just go away and leave her be," she said, pushing Jenny behind her as she stood. Determined to protect Jenny no matter what, Sofie lifted her chin a notch and met Latimer's gaze. "She's a child, so just go."

  "I ain't goin' nowhere, see?" Frank's eyes glazed and he circled toward the fire, never lowering his gun. "She's gonna ruin it all, and I can't let that happen."

  Sofie swallowed, aware of Jenny clutching handfuls of her voluminous skirt. She rotated slightly to keep herself completely between Frank Latimer and his niece.

  Of course, if he killed her, she wouldn't be here to protect Jenny at all. Where was Luke? Marshal Weathers? Ab? Dr. Wilson? Anyone?

  But she knew very well that everyone in town was at the wedding reception. With music and dancing, no one would hear the sound of Frank Latimer's gun. She trembled again but refused to lower her gaze.

  "We...we don't know what you're talking about," she said, realizing from the wild look in his eyes that the man was desperate, if not crazy.

  Desperate people did desperate things.

  Crazy and desperate was even more dangerous.

  "She knows. The sheriff said there was a witness, and I seen her that night."

  Please, just shut up. If he told them what he thought they already knew, they were both as good as dead. "We don't know anything, and you're frightening Jenny." Sofie didn't budge, though he took another menacing step.

  "Charlie was a loser anyway," Frank continued, his expression growing distant. "Always was. Couldn't stay sober most of the time, so every time he made a dime, he lost it."

  Sofie didn't want to hear this. She kept her hands at her sides and slightly behind her, with Jenny's shoulders firmly between them. God, please help us.

  "When he found that rich vein..." Frank shook his head and made a snorting sound. "Well, I knew then what had to be done."

  He moved sideways, toward the back of the settee, and Sofie rotated with him, keeping Jenny behind her. The settee was now between them and the killer, though it offered little reassurance.

  A slight movement startled her, then she realized the kitchen door was pushed open partway. She drew a deep breath, willing herself not to turn toward the door. Drawing Frank's attention to their possible rescuer would be foolish.

  Whoever it was, she hoped he was armed.

  "Please, stop," she said, hoping to buy time. "You're frightening Jenny, and we really don't know what you're talking about."

  A look of confusion crossed his face, and his gun lowered ever so slightly. Maybe he didn't really want to kill his niece. Maybe there was hope.

  "Of course you know," he said, raising his gun up to its previous level. "Charlie was a loser, but he always had all the luck. Got a good wife, won at poker, then minin'." Frank sighed, then chuckled without a trace of humor. "Stupid bastard couldn't keep nothin'."

  The man sneaking through the kitchen door wasn't alone. Though she didn't dare turn enough to discover their identity, Sofie made out two distinct shapes moving toward Frank.

  Thank you, God.

  "But Jenny's just a child," Sofie said quietly, hoping to keep Frank's attention diverted. "I don't know why you think she's a threat to you."

  "'Cuz I seen her runnin' away that night." He shook the gun and his eyes blazed with fury. "If there was a witness, she's it. That little snot-nosed kid's gonna cost me. I thought Shane was taken care of, but thanks to Jenny, now that ain't even true no more."

  Jenny whimpered behind her just as the room went berserk. Luke grabbed Frank around the throat from behind as someone else–someone naked!–dove from the end of the settee for the gun. The men struggled, but the gun discharged as it flew from Frank's hand.

  Pain blasted through Sofie's shoulder. Another explosion sounded from across the room. She was vaguely aware of two things as she hit the floor.

  Jenny's screams.

  And blood.

  Chapter 15

  Luke shoved Frank Latimer's body off him and leapt to his feet. Sofie. His gaze zeroed in on Sofie's crumpled form lying in a pool of blood and his heart skipped a beat. No, several.

  He stepped over Latimer, not caring if the creep was dead or alive, and dropped to his knees beside the woman he loved. Her face was so pale–deathly pale. Gently, he rolled her onto her back and found the source of all the blood.

  "The shoulder ain't as bad as it looks." Sam Weathers holstered his still smoking gun and stooped beside Luke. He removed his bandanna and pressed it against Sofie's wound. "She'll come 'round in a minute, but that bullet's gotta come out. You keep pressin' on that, and I'll fetch the doc."

  "Go now. Hurry."

  "I'm gone. Shane, get Jenny upstairs. This ain't no place for a kid." The door slammed behind the lawman.

  Luke had to believe Sam. If he said Sofie would recover, then she would. She had to. He willed himself to breathe, determined to be strong for her.

  "He's dead," someone announced from behind them.

  Then Luke remembered his accomplice. Maintaining the pressure on Sofie's wound, he glanced over his shoulder at Shane. The boy–no, the man–wore nothing but a burlap sack tucked between his legs and tied at his waist.

  Hence, the naked toes in the kitchen.

  "You run on upstairs, Jenny," Shane said.

  The little girl snapped out of her state of terror when she finally noticed her brother. "You're...naked."

  "Jenny, show him my room, please," Luke said. "Find him some clothes." That would get Jenny out of here, away from all the blood and–

  He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling against his rising fear.<
br />
  Jenny paused at his side, looking down at Sofie. "But what about Doctor Sof–"

  "You heard Marshal Weathers," Luke said, as much for himself as for Jenny. "Sofie's going to be just fine." He looked up and saw Jenny's tears, then shook his head. "She isn't going to die, Jenny."

  Because he wouldn't let Sofie die.

  Luke blinked back his tears–the suckers were multiplying in droves. He swallowed convulsively as Jenny and Shane started up the stairs. Relief that Latimer was dead and Shane wouldn't hang didn't come. All he could think about was the woman lying here on the floor.

  He leaned closer and brushed her forehead with his lips, lingering a moment before he pulled back. "I love you, Sofie," he whispered. "Wake up. Open your eyes."

  On cue, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him, confusion etched across her features. "I..." She tensed and reached for her shoulder. "Shot?"

  Luke caught her hand before it found her wound. Had she heard his declaration of love? "Yes, Latimer–"

  "Jenny." Sofie struggled to rise.

  "She's fine, and you aren't moving until Roman Wilson says you can." Luke brushed her hair from her face and she sighed.

  "What happened?"

  "Well, Frank Latimer is dead," Luke said, "so Jenny's safe now, thanks to you."

  She relaxed some, inclining her head toward her shoulder again. "How bad is it?"

  "Sam says you'll be fine, and I'll bet he's had more than a little experience with gunshot wounds."

  Sofie nodded and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you." She reached up with her uninjured arm and cupped his cheek.

  For a moment, her heart revealed itself in her eyes, and Luke ached to tell her again how much he loved her. He wanted to laugh with her, cry with her, and make love with her for the rest of his life.

  A plan slowly unfolded in his mind. When he left Redemption, Sofie would go with him. He would announce his intention to leave the Church–a lie on top of a lie–and ask her to marry him. He prayed she wouldn't insist on seeing the specialist in Denver, because if she regained her memory after this, she'd know about all his lies. How would he ever convince her he was wrongfully convicted of murder, when he'd continued to lie to her?

  And now he had much more to lose than merely his pride and his freedom. Sofie was far more important than everything else, and he would do anything to keep the love shining in her eyes when she looked at him. Anything.

  Even if it meant living a lie for the rest of his life.

  But marriage would bind them. Shame slithered through him, but Luke was determined to follow through with his plan.

  The front door burst open and Roman appeared, his trusty black bag in tow. "She's awake now," Luke said, stating the obvious. "Bleeding's almost stopped."

  The doctor merely grunted and pulled away the bandanna. With a pair of blunt-tipped scissors, he carefully cut the stained dress until he exposed the angry wound.

  "This is going to hurt," he warned, then probed her shoulder with his fingers. She flinched and bit her lower lip. "Sorry about that. Bullet missed the bone. That's good." Lifting her slightly, he pulled the damaged dress over her shoulder and looked at her back. "Aha, and here's the best news of all."

  The back of her dress was soaked with blood, and Luke couldn't imagine anything good about this situation. "What?" he asked.

  "That's damn good news, and I'll betcha..." Sam chuckled and pulled the afghan from the back of the rocking chair. "Yep, see for yourself." He pointed at the rocker's high back, where a jagged crack marred the golden wood. "There's the bullet."

  Luke stood and looked closer as Sam used a knife to dig a piece of mangled lead from the wood. Jenny and her brother returned, both staring at the object that could've killed any of them. The bullet was misshapen from the impact, but at least it wasn't embedded in Sofie's shoulder.

  "That is good news." Relief flooded Luke's chest with warmth as he smiled down at Sofie.

  "Let's get her upstairs, where I can clean and dress this properly," Roman said. "I'll need two helpers, to make sure we don't twist her too much."

  Shane and Jenny thundered down the stairs and went to Sofie's side. "Tell me how to do this, doc, so I don't hurt her."

  "You were naked," Sofie said weakly, and they all laughed, more from relief than anything else.

  "Yes, ma'am." Shane grinned and Luke knew he was a good young man who would now have a chance for a long life. "The marshal stole my clothes."

  "But it didn't stop you none, did it? And I thought I told you to take Miss Jenny up–"

  "She wouldn't stay."

  Jenny lifted her chin a notch and folded her arms across her abdomen.

  "Women," Sam muttered, then went to Frank Latimer's body. "I'd best wait here for the sheriff."

  Taking Sofie's other side, Luke followed Roman's instructions on how to lift their patient. Jenny followed them upstairs, and once they had Sofie in bed she ordered Luke and Shane from the room.

  "I'll help Dr. Wilson until Mrs. Fleming–I mean, Mrs. Wilson–gets here," she said. Jenny was like a different person, full of confidence and downright bossy. Luke smiled, though he wanted desperately to remain at Sofie's side.

  Shane followed Luke from the room and closed the door behind them, then they made their way back downstairs just in time to see some Sam covering Frank Latimer's body with the damaged afghan. Good. Luke was sure Jenny wouldn't want to see it again when she came downstairs. Neither did he, for that matter. Sam and Ab were discussing the case, and Zeke stood nearby.

  "Best get him outta here," Sam said.

  "Wait." Shane bent down and pulled the afghan aside, then reached into his uncle's vest pocket. The young man pulled a watch from the dead man's pocket and flipped it open. "This was Grandpa's."

  Grandpa. The word echoed through Luke's head.

  "The watch wasn't in Pa's pocket when I woke up that night," Shane said quietly. "I knew the killer had it, and I figured that was Uncle Frank." He sighed.

  Seeing Zeke reminded Luke that there was one more man here in Redemption who'd been sentenced to die unjustly. Damn.

  "Well, Shane," Ab said quietly, "you're a free man now."

  "Hallelujah," Zeke said.

  Though his thoughts continued to drift upstairs to Sofie, Luke pounded Shane on the back and shook his hand. "Congratulations."

  "Guess I'll help Ab with his report to the circuit judge, then I'll head home," Sam said, looping his thumbs through his holster. "Got me a youngun on the way, and I reckon Lucifer oughta be mended by week's end."

  Luke watched Zeke's face. Though the old coot said he didn't care about going back to hang, his face drooped like a hound dog's. What could Luke do to stop this? His gut burned and his pulse played "Wipe-Out" on his temples. In stereo.

  "Let me know when," Zeke said, sighing in resignation. "I'll be ready."

  "Ready for what?" Sam shifted his weight and gave Zeke a bland look that could've meant anything or nothing. "Oh, did I forget to mention that wanted poster I been carryin'?"

  The man was being sly again, but Luke couldn't prevent "High Hopes" from drowning out "Wipe-Out." He cleared his throat, deciding someone had to play the marshal's game. "What poster?"

  Sam looked at Luke, then turned to face Zeke again as he pulled a badly creased paper from his vest pocket. He chuckled as he unfolded the paper and held it out toward Zeke. "It's the darndest thing. This here poster looks just like you, but it ain't you."

  Zeke's brow furrowed as he looked at the paper. "Well, it sure as hell–"

  "No, it ain't."

  Luke couldn't stand the suspense anymore, and he stepped around the bloodstained carpet to look at the document for himself. The drawing was of a much younger Zeke Judson. Confused, he read the words beneath the picture.

  "Zachariah Judson?" He grabbed Zeke and thumped his back, laughing in relief.

  Shane looked over Luke's shoulder. "Yep, that's what it says all right."

  "I can read 'nuff to tell that there d
on't say Ezekiel, but..." Zeke scratched his head and flashed a gap-toothed smile. "I'll be gol-durned. I'm happier'n a pup with two peters."

  "Wahoo!" Ab threw his hat into the air and grabbed Zeke in a bear hug. "You're free, Zeke. Free."

  Free. Luke swallowed hard, watching Sam for the punch line. There had to be more to this.

  "If I was you, though," Sam said thoughtfully, "I wouldn't go back to Arkansas or even Indian Territory for a good long spell. I reckon this here's what Judge Parker'd call a technicality." He chuckled and rubbed his whiskered chin. "The Judge gets right testy when things ain't done proper-like, and that's what I aim to do."

  "What does tech-nee-cality mean, Marshal?" Ab asked.

  "Means I can't arrest him, but..."

  "But if'n I was to go home, somebody else prob'ly could."

  "If it turns out this is really a misprint, and Zachariah Judson is really Zeke Judson."

  Of course, they all knew the man on the wanted poster was Zeke, but Sam Weathers had found a way to see justice done. Real justice.

  Luke thrust out his hand and Sam took it. "God bless you, Marshal." He might as well take advantage of playing priest while it lasted. "Not only did you shoot Frank Latimer from clear across the room, but now you've performed a miracle. A real miracle."

  "Pshaw, the shootin' part's easy, though you and young Shane was gettin' in my way." The marshal chuckled. "But I'll leave the miracles to the Almighty."

  "Like not shooting me or Shane by mistake."

  Everybody in the room chuckled, but Sam just grinned and shook his head. "Luke, I don't make them kinda mistakes."

  "Thank God."

  "I already did." Sam laughed quietly. "Several times, as a matter of fact."

  The front door opened, admitting Anna Wilson and her daughter. Dora only swayed slightly as she maneuvered herself across the room behind her mother.

  "Oh, that's blood on the floor," Dora said, barely slurring her words. She hiccupped loudly, earning a glare from her mother. "Pardon."

  "Where's Sofie?" Mrs. Wilson's expression and tone were urgent. "Is she...?"