Mrs. Grey

by Rachel Wesson

  “You touch one hair…”

  “Shut up, Sheriff. I be the one to do the talkin’. I ain’t going back to New York and that is a fact. I’m heading south, and you boys are going to help me get there.”

  “We can’t do that, Seamus, and you know it. You might as well surrender now.” He spoke calmly wondering where Little Beaver was. His deputy hadn’t come into the jailhouse with Robbie. Was he still a free man or did Seamus and his gang have him?

  “You better do what we say, Sheriff. Not much love for you union types where we’re headed.”

  “The war is long over, Seamus.”

  “Not for some of us. You killed our women, and we ain’t never going to let you forget that.”

  “Seamus, can’t blame me for losing your loved ones in the war.”

  “Not sayin’ I blame you Sheriff, personal like, not unless you were in Kansas City?”

  Kansas City! So Seamus must have lost someone in the collapse. Braddon inhaled sharply, causing Robbie to look at him.

  “What happened in Kansas City?” Robbie asked.

  “Number of women were killed when the prison collapsed. It was an accident, but some of the Graybacks refuse to believe it. That right, Seamus?” Davy asked.

  Davy got a gun in the gut for that remark, making him fall over. Robbie took a step forward, but Seamus leveled his gun and pointed it at his chest.

  “Your friend got it wrong. The prison collapse was no accident. They killed my Nannie—took days for her to die. A slow, agonizing death. What crime had she committed? I’ll tell ya. None. She’d done nothin’.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife, Seamus, but we weren’t responsible for Kansas. You know the general order was to gather up those associated with, or suspected of, helping Bushwhackers. Is that what you did?”

  Seamus didn’t answer the sheriff.

  “Seems to me you killed your own wife.” Braddon should’ve kept quiet, but he couldn’t. Standing in front of him was the type of man who’d destroyed his farm, killed his family. Left the remains behind for everyone to see. Not a streak of decency in their bodies.

  Seamus’ eyes gleamed.

  “You seem mighty bothered by me being a bushwhacker. Where did you come from?”

  The sheriff didn’t answer. Davy got a boot in the back for his lack of cooperation.

  “I had a farm outside Lawrence. My wife and boy lived there. He was younger than Declan.”

  He knew by looking at him Seamus had been at Lawrence. The rage in the pit of his stomach grew stronger. This man, or one of his friends, murdered his son, his wife, and destroyed his future. He’d love nothing better but to remove the man’s head from his shoulders in the most painful way possible. But he couldn’t. Not for his own sake. He’d gladly risk his own hide, but Lorena was in danger as were the men, his friends, in this room. Davy was groaning. He hoped whatever injury he’d sustained wasn’t too serious.

  “What do you want, Seamus?’

  “I want an escort out of town sheriff, but first I want you to telegraph the bounty hunter and tell him we scarpered. Headed north to Canada.” Seamus grinned at his men. “Leave him to follow a cold trail!”

  Seamus’ men laughed. Davy stopped moaning. Braddon bent to check on his friend but the gun at his chest stopped him.

  “I just want to make sure he’s still alive,” he said, glaring at Seamus. The bushwhacker kicked Davy sharply in the leg making him groan.

  “He’s alive.”

  It took all Braddon ’s self-control not to take a swing at Seamus, but he sensed that’s what Seamus wanted. The man clearly got a thrill out of hurting people.

  “What did Declan do to you? He was too young to be in the war.”

  “He was, but his old man wasn’t. He was bragging one night about his pa being a hero who had helped bring down Anderson. He had to pay.”

  Anderson—one of the biggest criminals of the Civil War with a string of murders associated to him, had been shot dead in a shoot-out. Nobody knew who’d fired that bullet. Declan was just bragging the way all kids did.

  “You killed him because he was proud of his pa? What sort of animal are you?”

  Braddon’s answer was the butt of a rifle across his head.

  “Cook, are you home? I asked...” she came to a standstill, the sight before her taking the words from her mouth. “What on earth?”

  She moved to untie the woman. Cook was trying to say something but the gag in her mouth stopped her. “Hold still, woman, I can’t get you free if you don’t stop fidgeting.”

  She finally removed the gag. “They got Jim. Oh, Mrs. Grey, they are fixing to kill him.”

  “Jim? For what? Who?”

  “Those Irish men. I tried to stop them, but they hit me and pushed me into this chair.” Cook started weeping as Mrs. Grey continue to work on her binds.

  “Where’s Annie and Isabella?”

  “Isabella is in town with Mrs. Doherty. I don’t know where Annie is, Mrs. Grey. I thought she was upstairs, but they ran around the house and she didn’t appear.”

  “Did you see how many there were?” she asked as the last binds came loose. Cook was rubbing her red-raw wrists. The men had tied the binds too tight.

  “No, Mrs. Grey. I saw two but there were more outside. I don’t know how you missed them when you came in. I thought they would be waiting for you.”

  They should have been and that thought alone made her very concerned for Jim.

  “Cook, can you shoot a gun?”

  Her cook nodded but her hands were shaking so badly, she decided it wasn’t a good idea to give the poor woman a weapon.

  “The buggy is outside. Can you drive into town and get help? Actually, go over to Sorcha’s place. It’s closer and Brian and Frank are probably working together.”

  “But Jim?”

  “Leave Jim to me. Go on, get going.” Mrs. Grey took out the small gun she carried in the pocket of her dress and all but pushed the woman out of the house. She watched as Cook drove down the road like a woman possessed. The poor horses. Then she turned her attention back to the Annie and Jim.

  “Annie, where are you?” she whispered loudly, but there was no response. She went back into the kitchen but this time she heard sounds in the backyard. Annie was crying. The men had her and Jim. Mrs. Grey peered out the window. There were three that she could see, but there might be more in the barn. They had a rope in their hands. Oh, my goodness, surely, they weren’t intending on… No, she refused to even finish that thought. This was 1888, not 1864. Lynchings were a thing of the past.

  She pushed open the door carefully, trying not to make a noise. The strangers were too busy tormenting Annie to notice Mrs. Grey. She could hear the third man trying to stop the other two. Man? He was only a boy. His voice rose and fell as if it had yet to break.

  Chapter 43

  She was almost on top of them when Annie saw her. The girl didn’t say a word but her widened eyes alerted the leader. He swung around but before he could say anything she shot him. She aimed for his belly knowing that was most likely to kill.

  His friends took a few seconds to take in what was happening. The second man had been drinking which made his reaction slower. She shot him, hitting him somewhere as he gave a satisfying grunt of pain. It was enough for the boy to throw up his hands.

  “Don’t shoot, Missus. I ain’t armed. I wasn’t doing nothin’. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to hurt nobody.”

  “Shut up,” she said, watching his eyes widen at a woman of her age using that language. “Your ma would be real proud of you picking on a girl and a one-legged man.” She didn’t wait for a response but walked over to the second man she had shot and kicked his gun farther away from him. Then she told the boy to untie Jim. Once Jim was untied, she handed him her gun. “Don’t think about it. Shoot him again if he blinks.”

  Jim grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She moved slowly to Annie’s side. The poor girl was shaki
ng in terror trying to hold the front of her dress in place.

  “Annie, did they hurt you?” she asked her gently.

  “Noooooo,” she whispered. “I was hiding but Jim, he needed help.”

  “They said they was going to string me up to teach me a lesson for being a Yankee. I don’t know where Annie came from, but she has a fine aim. She hit one man over the head with something. Gave him a real headache although reckon he won’t be feeling it now.”

  Jim indicated the man she had shot in the guts. She didn’t feel any guilt knowing what the man had intended to do to these good people.

  Chapter 44

  Hearing noises, she pushed Annie behind her, relief flooding through her as Frank, Brian, and some others came riding up to the house. They came to a standstill taking in the scene.

  “You got to arrest her. She’s mad. Shot all of us she did. Well not me but my friends. She shot Macker in the belly. He didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Mrs. Grey, you never said you were able to shoot?”

  “You never asked me, Brian. I don’t make a habit of shooting anything other than snakes. This one here is rather bigger than my usual quarry.”

  Brian and Frank exchanged looks and grinned. Then Frank spotted Annie. He got down from his horse and taking off his jacket handed it to her.

  “You okay, girl?’

  “I is fine. Mrs. Grey saved me.”

  “You is some woman, Mrs. Grey. You know that?”

  “I did what had to be done, Frank, you would have done the same. Now I think we should head into town. I’d like Erin to take a look at Cook’s wrists. Where is she?’

  “My Nandita is taking care of her,” Frank replied. “Her hands were sore, but we nearly had to tie her up again to keep her at our place. We didn’t want her riding into trouble.”

  Mrs. Grey nodded. Nandita was a wonderful healer with a thorough knowledge of herbal remedies. She also had an even temperament so would help to calm Cook down.

  “What did they do to my Esther?’ Jim asked, fear written all over his face.

  “They tied her to the kitchen chair. They didn’t try anything else,” she said softly, hoping to banish any fears he had.

  “Brian, would you take Jim over to your place, please. Maybe Frank and you other men would tie up these varmints and we can deposit them at the sheriff’s while we are passing.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Grey, but…”

  “But?” she asked Frank as he paused as if wondering if he should question her judgment.

  “Did you ask him why they picked your place? I knows you have a fancy house, but they don’t seem to have been interested in robbing it.”

  Mrs. Grey turned to look at the boy who refused to return her gaze.

  “You want to tell me what is going on, or do I have to shoot you too?”

  “No, Missus. I mean, I’ll tell ya. I don’t know why, but Seamus, he says he wants to kill the sheriff. But he wants to hurt him real bad first. He burst into the jailhouse and has the sheriff and some others held hostage. He sent us out here ‘cause he knew he wouldn’t do anything if he thought you were in trouble. I didn’t think they would do anything to nobody. I just thought they would—”

  “Would?” she said coldly.

  He shrugged his shoulders, shame turning his face scarlet. “I thought they would just scare ya.”

  “Why me?” she asked

  “You’re his missus, aren’t ya?” The boy looked confused as they all laughed.

  “Not yet she isn’t,” one of Frank’s friends replied, causing Mrs. Grey to give him one of her looks.

  “Why is Seamus obsessed with Sheriff Willis?” she asked the boy.

  “I don’t know, Missus, but he was ranting about him being a union soldier who’d killed his wife.”

  “Braddon wouldn’t kill a woman, not on purpose. He was a prisoner of war after Gettysburg. Seamus must have the wrong man.”

  “Seamus don’t care much about that,” the boy answered. “He don’t care about anything but getting the right flag flying again.”

  The boy shut up possibly realizing he was surrounded by those who believed in the United States.

  “Frank, what do you think we should do?” she asked.

  Frank stood taller putting his shoulders back. She knew people didn’t always recognize him as their equal. They were stupid not to. As well as being a strong but kind man, he had a fine mind.

  “I reckon we have the element of surprise on our side. We could go into town and bust the sheriff out of his own jailhouse.”

  “Hmm, that could work, but it could lead to casualties. School will be out soon. Someone would have to tell Eleanor to keep the children inside.”

  “We can send someone to do that. Someone else needs to go and round up some extra men. Davy and the like.”

  “Davy was in town at the jailhouse. As was Robbie. Little Beaver was supposed to meet them there,” she said, before turning her attention back to the boy. “Was the deputy in the jailhouse too?”

  “The injun? No, the smell wasn’t that bad.”

  The shot hitting the dirt at his feet made him yelp.

  “Our deputy sheriff is a respected member of this community. You mind your manners.”

  “Yes, missus,” the boy answered, not taking his eyes off her hand that held the gun.

  “Maybe Miss Eleanor should give you a job in the school keeping the other little tykes in line, Mrs. Grey,” Frank teased her as the boy continued to look fearfully in her direction.

  “We best get back to town and see what we can do?” she said smoothly.

  “I think you should stay here, Mrs. Grey.”

  She glared at Frank.

  “Don’t go giving me that look. I know you can shoot, and you proved you can look after yourself, but your presence could be a distraction. This is man’s work.”

  She was about to protest when Annie spoke up.

  “Please, don’t leave me, Mrs. Grey.”

  “Go on, Frank. I will stay. But please send someone to tell us what happened as soon as you can.”

  “Will do, Mrs. Grey.”

  The men attached the body of the first varmint to the back of a horse and the second man was dragged up in front of a rider. Nobody paid any attention to his pleas for help. Whether he survived or not, he was probably a dead man walking. If Seamus was guilty of half of what she suspected, this man was his accomplice and would likely hang too.

  That left the boy.

  “Want us to bring him in?” Frank asked her.

  “No, leave him here. He could warn Seamus. I can look after him.”

  “Take me with you. She’s nuts,” the boy protested, turning a begging look to the men leaving for town.

  With a grin, Frank shook his head. “You best behave yourself, boy!” Then Frank was gone.

  “Annie, I am just going to tie this young man up in the barn. When Jim comes back he can give him a good thrashing.”

  “You wouldn’t,” the boy whimpered.

  “Oh, yes, I would. Pity your ma didn’t, then you might have had more sense than to get mixed up with those horrible men.”

  She tied him to a chair in the barn carefully making sure that his binds, while tight, were not restricting his blood flow. The boy was no more than a child. Fourteen, if that. She hoped he would make better choices if the law let him off the ones he had already made.

  “Come on, Annie, let’s go inside. I could do with a cup of tea.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on her. The Irish girls had always insisted a cup of tea was needed in a time of crisis. She was terrified over what would happen to Braddon, but she couldn’t show her feelings. Annie had been through enough for one day.

  She persuaded the girl to take a bath, thankful she had installed indoor plumbing.

  She had the kettle boiling and cookies on the table when Annie came back downstairs.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked her.

  “I washed and washed but I still feel dirty. I
cleaned the bath,” the young girl said in a low voice.

  “You didn’t need to do that. Sit and have some tea. A hot drink with sugar will help.”

  “Mrs. Grey, why are you so nice to me?”

  Surprised, she looked at the girl. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

  “I is different to you. I don’t speak proper and my mother was a slave.”

  “Your mother was a good woman who raised a decent young girl. That’s all I care about. We can work on your speech habits if you would like to do that. I can help you when I teach you how to read.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Annie, you help me too.”

  The girl nearly spilled her tea as her mouth dropped open.

  “I am a lonely old woman but since you came, you brighten up the house. I love to hear you sing.”

  “You do?”

  “You have a lovely voice. If Father Molloy ever hears you sing, he will have you signed up for his church in a matter of seconds.”

  “I like to sing. I like to go to Church too, but I ain’t never been in Clover Springs. Didn’t think people would like it.”

  “Some won’t,” she replied, thinking of Ma Kelley and Mrs. Shaw. “But their opinion doesn’t matter. If you want to go to Church, then you shall go.”

  They were interrupted by Esther bursting into the kitchen frightening the life out of both of them.

  “Mrs. Grey, you are alright. My Jim told me what you did. I can’t believe it.”

  “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Cook,” she admonished gently. “How are you feeling?”

  “I am furious, that’s how I feel. When I think of what those men tried to do to my Jim and our Annie. Well, I just… I just want to hit something.”

  She stood and got a wooden spoon handing it to Esther.

  Mrs. Grey exchanged a glance with Annie before saying, “Be my guest. The boy is in the barn. He needs a good spanking. His mother should have done it for him. I told him Jim would thrash him when he came back, but I don’t really like a man hitting a boy. It sets a bad example.”

  Esther took the spoon, a smile appearing on her face for the first time that day.