Mrs. Grey

by Rachel Wesson

  “I can hit him?”

  “Go see him and work it out from there,” she advised the other woman. She knew from experience the actual act of hitting anyone was more difficult than imagining the deed in the heat of anger.

  Jim must have stayed in the barn as she was left with Annie once more. She found the girl staring at her as if wondering if she could say something.

  “What is it, Annie?”

  “Is it true, Mrs. Grey? Are you going to marry the sheriff?”

  “Now, Annie, don’t be listening to gossip,” she replied, avoiding the subject.

  “I think he is a very nice man. He has always been kind to me.”

  She was surprised. She had never seen Annie spend time with Braddon.

  “He found me when I first came to Clover Springs. I was about to make a bad decision. He sent me to the orphanage. You found me there.”

  Interesting. Braddon had never told her about saving Annie.

  “If you do marry him, will you still need a maid?”

  “Annie, there will always be room for you in this house. I would like your help, but I wish you would see yourself as part of the family, not a servant. In time, you will want your own home and maybe, one day, a family.”

  Annie shuddered but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the time to have that conversation, so she let the subject drop.

  What was happening in town? Was Braddon going to be alright?

  Chapter 45

  Braddon couldn’t think straight. His body itched to punch Seamus to a pulp. The man in front of him, or his compatriots, had been responsible for killing his wife and son. Teddy would have been twenty-five if he had lived. He could be a grandfather. He could have had a future, but this varmint had stolen that without a second thought. Davy groaned again, bringing him back to his senses.

  Seamus stared at him, the triumphant look in his eyes telling Braddon the man was enjoying every minute of this. He was the type of killer who enjoyed torturing his victims, he got pleasure out of causing pain.

  Then he heard it. An owl.

  “What was that?” one of Seamus’ men asked.

  “An owl, you fool,” Seamus shot back. “What did you think it was? The banshee? She may be visiting but she only comes when someone is about to die. He isn’t dead yet.”

  Seamus indicated Davy with a glance. “Up to you, Sheriff. Are you going to help or does your friend here die first?”

  “I’ll help. I can’t see how you mean to get a message to the telegraph office.”

  “Micky will take it. You give him the details and a note for the operator. He knows your mark?” Seamus clarified.

  He nodded. Once Micky was gone, he wouldn’t be coming back. Little Beaver would take care of him. That left Seamus and one other man, Seamus called him Flinty, the one with an ugly scar on his face. He hoped he wasn’t a good shot.

  “Micky, you get back here quick. If you are not back in five minutes, we will shoot him.” Seamus gestured toward Davy.

  Braddon needed more time.

  “Five minutes? Can Micky fly? The telegraph office is on the other side of town. Clover Springs may be small but it’s a good ten-minute walk to the office.”

  “Be back here in fifteen minutes, Micky.”

  Braddon knew Davy was as good as dead. They all were unless he did something. He glanced at Robbie who nodded slightly at Flinty. Robbie was saying he would take care of Flinty, leaving him to deal with Seamus. But that was dangerous. The other two men were armed and in the confined space of the jailhouse, flying bullets were likely to ricochet. He couldn’t risk it. He shook his head negatively. Robbie would have to wait.

  He wrote out the note but called the operator Mr. Foxton instead of Stan as he always did. Hopefully, Stan would realize that there was something wrong. Just in case Little Beaver didn’t waylay Micky.

  Seamus read the note and smiled. “Nice to see you doing what you are told, Sheriff.”

  He didn’t reply. There was no point in letting Seamus rile him.

  Micky left, and they listened in silence. There was no gunshot or any other noise to indicate anyone had stopped the man. Seamus took a big sigh telling him the leader wasn’t as confident as he pretended. Then they heard the owl again. He had to hide a smile. He knew that meant Micky wasn’t coming back.

  The time ticked by. Flinty started to pace as Seamus chewed and spat anywhere but into the spittoon. Braddon kept an eye on Davy, but he seemed to have lost consciousness again. At least he hoped that was what was keeping him quiet. What should he do? He couldn’t endanger Robbie and Davy, but he wasn’t about to let Seamus walk away either.

  Then they heard gunshots.

  Seamus cocked his gun, “Looks like Micky found trouble.”

  “Sheriff, your missus is safe, and the men Seamus sent to hurt her are dead. The one known as Micky won’t be walking straight for a few days.” The voice came from outside the jailhouse.

  “No, Seamus. Looks like trouble found you,” Braddon replied as he recognized Frank’s voice.

  Braddon looked to Seamus, who wasn’t looking quite as sure of himself as he had.

  “Shoot, Seamus. The lads are dead. We got to give ourselves up. Otherwise, they’ll kill us too.”

  “Shut up, Flinty.”

  “Who you tellin’ to shut up?” Flinty replied belligerently. At that moment Robbie jumped toward Flinty leaving Braddon to tackle Seamus. At the same time, the jailhouse door burst open. A gun went off. Braddon felt the bullet whizz past his ear and hit the post behind him.

  Another shot rang out, he hit the floor not sure who was shooting. Robbie had thrown himself over Davy. Hopefully to protect the other man not because he was injured too. Little Beaver had Flinty in a headlock but where was Seamus? He got his answer as another shot rang out followed by a couple more.

  “Sheriff, you okay in there?”

  “Yes, thank you, Cookie. You get Seamus?”

  “He ain’t goin’ to give you any trouble,” Cookie responded, “hope he likes the heat as it sure is hot where he’s gone.”

  Braddon sent up a quick prayer before springing into action. “Someone fetch Doc Erin. Davy’s been hurt,” he ordered, making his way to the prone man. He glanced at Flinty, “Get that idiot behind bars before someone sends him the same place as his boss.”

  Doc Erin came quickly and gave Davy a once-over before telling the men to carry him carefully to her clinic. She needed room to examine him further and the jailhouse wasn’t exactly clean. Davy had suffered deep lacerations as well as broken bones. Braddon assumed his ribs were broken given his labored breathing. He knew how dangerous that was—a broken rib could pierce a lung.

  “Davy’s a strong man, Sheriff,” Cookie said as they watched the men carry the rancher to the clinic.

  “You did some doctoring during the war. Least I think that’s what I was told by Mick. He says you saved his leg.”

  “Wasn’t me. I helped a doctor that’s all.”

  “But you seen men get beat up bad like Davy before. We both know it ain’t a certainty he will survive.”

  “Nothing certain in this life, Sheriff. But Davy Sullivan is a fine healthy man. He got the strength and the willpower to put up a fight. He has what it takes to pull through and lots more,” Cookie said, staring after Davy. “He got a family who needs him to live.”

  A family. Braddon didn’t have one. Not anymore. But maybe meeting Seamus was a sign it was time to close that chapter of his life and move on. Stephanie would understand. She would never have wanted him to be alone.

  He turned and saw Flinty staring at him from the cell.

  “What you are looking at?” he roared, but Flinty kept staring.

  “I’ll look after him. You get out to see how Mrs. Grey is. She’s not as steel-laced as she appears to be.”

  He exchanged a look of understanding with Cookie before picking up his hat and heading out of the jailhouse. He needed to see the woman he loved.

  Chapter 46
/>   Braddon didn’t get very far. Frank had brought in another man. He was wounded but would live.

  “Doc Erin needs to have a look at him,” Frank suggested, his eyes following the route Davy had just taken.

  “I reckon the doc has her hands full. Lock him up with his friend, Flinty. They can keep each other company.”

  “I could die. You got to help me,” the man insisted.

  “Flinty can nurse you,” Braddon replied, taking the man’s elbow, and shoving him none too gently into the jailhouse. While Frank kept a gun trained on Flinty, Braddon opened the cell door and threw the injured man inside. He locked the door behind him.

  “You can’t leave him here. He will bleed all over me,” Flinty whined.

  “I am sure you’ve seen worse,” Braddon replied, before nodding to Little Beaver who had taken his place behind the desk.

  “Go see Mrs. Grey. Tell her I said she is brave warrior.” Little Beaver smiled.

  Braddon stuck his hat on his head and, with Frank following after him, headed out the door.

  Frank accompanied him back to Mrs. Grey’s. He wanted to get back to his wife, Nandita, and family who had been upset when they saw Esther had been hurt. It didn’t surprise Braddon, that Nandita had been able to help Esther’s wounds. He had a lot of time for Nandita, Little Beaver’s stepmom.

  “Frank, thank you for earlier. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you riding in like that.”

  “You’d have got out of there somehow. I was happy to help.”

  “So, tell me how you ended up at the jailhouse.”

  Frank told him how Esther had come racing into his land in the buggy. He didn’t like what Frank told him about the state they had found Annie in but thankfully they had arrived in time to protect the girl. Annie had been through more than enough for any youngster. His mind flashed back to the first time he met her. She’d been hovering around the store and he’d guessed she was hungry. When she spotted him, she ran. Later he’d found her outside the saloon. He’d picked her up, brought her back to the jailhouse, and given her a talking to as well as his sandwiches and cups of coffee. Then he had taken her to Wilma who’d welcomed the girl with open arms. That was more than two years ago, yet the girl was still afraid of her own shadow. He had wondered if Wilma had made a mistake sending her away from the orphanage. But Wilma knew best and between her and Lorena the girl had come on in leaps and bounds.

  “You serious about Mrs. Grey?” Frank asked him as they rode out of town.

  “You been listening to gossip?” he replied to his old friend. Frank had been one of the first men to welcome him to Clover Springs.

  “Hard not to when the boy was shouting it all over the place.”

  “Boy? What boy?” he asked, genuinely confused.

  “Billy. Least I think that’s what his name is. He rode with Seamus. He said Seamus sent them to Mrs. Grey’s house to hurt your missus.”

  “Is this Billy the one who hurt Annie?”

  “No. He was trying to stop them. He’s only a kid. About fourteen I reckon.”

  “That’s old enough to know better,” he said, scowling. “Where’s this kid now?”

  “Your missus tied him to a chair after she threaten to shoot his toes off.”

  “Lorena shot him?’

  “Not him, the ground near him. Made him jump higher than Davy’s prize stallion.” Frank laughed at the memory. “Last I heard, she wanted Jim to take a switch to the boy, give him a hidin’.”

  Braddon listened as Frank outlined what had happened. He couldn’t believe Lorena had shot one man in the stomach, killing him, and wounded a second one. He’d always seen her as a gentle lady. A steel inner core but a gentlewoman all the same. He wondered what else he didn’t know about the woman he knew he loved.

  Frank fell silent as they rode up to the house. They both had their hands on their guns not wanting to take any risks.

  The door opened and there she was, all smiles. He could see the relief in her eyes. He dismounted and threw the reins in Frank’s direction before walking quickly to her. She moved toward him and when they met, he swept her up into a hug.

  “You’re alive. I knew you would be, but I…” she said.

  “I’m alive. Seamus is dead, he can’t hurt you or anyone else again.”

  “He didn’t hurt me. His men tried to hurt Annie, but Esther and Jim helped save the day.”

  “From what I heard you played a rather big part in that,” he said, watching the skin on her neck change pink as she looked away. “Lorena, I am proud of you.”

  “You don’t think I was unladylike?” she asked.

  It was the last thing he expected to hear, and it made him laugh. “Why would I think that?”

  “I wasn’t sure how you felt about women being able to shoot.”

  “For an intelligent woman, you really can be silly. I think all women should protect themselves, especially out here. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

  “Back in the war. They thought the Yankees might overrun the plantation. Daddy believed we should all protect ourselves. My mother and my sister caught the vapors at the mere mention of guns, but I insisted on learning. Jim helped me keep up my practice although it’s been a while since I was out shooting cans.”

  “From what I heard, you are a regular Annie Oakley.”

  She slapped him lightly on his arm for teasing her. Then her face fell, and he saw just how upset and frightened she’d been.

  He opened his arms, half thinking she would ignore the gesture. She moved into them and nestled her head on his shoulder. “I thought they had hurt Annie when I came out of the house. I couldn’t bear for that to happen again. I think that’s why I killed him. I got angry. Forgive me, Lord, but it was murder.”

  “Murder? No, it wasn’t, Lorena.”

  She raised tear-stained eyes to look at him.

  “You protected yourself, Annie, and, from what I heard, Jim. You saved their lives.”

  “I lost my temper. When I saw his hands on Annie, it took me back.”

  Chapter 47

  She wasn’t making any sense. He took her hand and led her to the porch where they took a seat. He held her tight as she sobbed, not really believing this was Lorena Grey. Crying like a child.

  “Lorena, tell me. What happened to you?’

  “It didn’t happen to me, but it was my fault. Before the war, I helped the slaves learn to read.”

  “I know that.”

  “Yes, but I also helped them to run away. I knew people on the underground railroad and used to give my daddy’s slaves food and money to help them make the trip.”

  “That was brave of you.”

  “But it wasn’t. Don’t you see? It was the slaves that were brave. Those men and women risked everything to gain their freedom. It was sometimes too high a price.”

  “You risked your life too. Few southerners would forgive a white woman for helping escaped slaves.”

  It was as if she didn’t hear him.

  “We had this one slave, Abraham. He was a good boy, a hard worker. He was young, strong, and fit. Very valuable to my father.”

  The bitterness in her voice caused it to tremble.

  “He was supposed to be my friend. He trusted me.”

  She fell silent.

  “What happened?” he prompted

  “I told him to run. He didn’t want to. He said he loved a girl who worked in the house. Her name was Venus, she was a mulatto and very beautiful. House slaves and field slaves didn’t mix. But that didn’t stop Abraham. He loved her and told me he wouldn’t leave without her. I told him he didn’t know what love was. He was too young. And he had a duty to run. To use his mind for better things than growing cotton. I was so full of pride. I thought I knew best.”

  He sensed things had gone badly wrong. He didn’t want to hear the rest of the story but knew she needed to get it off her chest. He waited, holding her hand. She would tell him when she was ready.

  “Abra
ham ran but he tried to take Venus with him. She wasn’t as fit as he was. She slowed him down.”

  “And they were caught?”

  “Yes, and brought back in irons. My father was usually a fair man, but this was a huge betrayal in his eyes. He… he was so angry. He had Abraham whipped over and over to get him to tell him who had helped him. Abraham never talked. Not even to save his own life.”

  “He protected you.”

  “Yes, he did, and because of me he died.”

  “And Venus?”

  “What they did to her was worse. When I saw Annie’s torn dress, it all came flooding back to me. I saw red and that’s when I shot him. The man who attacked Annie. I knew if I hit him in the belly, he would die. I could have aimed for his arm or his foot or something, but I killed him.”

  “You did what you had to do. He could have shot any of you if you hadn’t acted so quickly. You saved Annie.”

  But he could tell she wasn’t listening.

  “Venus didn’t tell either, but when my father sold her, on the way to the auction house she spit at me. The hate in her eyes. I will never unsee it.”

  She broke down again. He cuddled her closer, his heart breaking for this amazing woman.

  “You were young. You couldn’t have stopped it happening. They were bad times.”

  “Don’t you see? If I hadn’t insisted Abraham run, he could have lived on the plantation. He and Venus would have lived.”

  “You don’t know that. Lots of slaves died in the war. From what you said they wouldn’t have let Venus and Abraham be together. You gave them a chance. Many slaves who escaped found good lives in the North.”

  “I could have stopped Father from killing Abraham. I should have made him listen to me.”

  “Did you not tell him?” he asked, somehow not believing she would have stood there and watched the innocent man lose his life to protect her.

  “I did, but he wouldn’t believe me. But I should have forced him to listen. I should have done more to save Abraham and Venus.”