Still upset by her encounter with the Widow Ashton, Jodee stepped up to Quimby’s boardwalk. “If you don’t start calling me Jodee, I’m going to stop speaking to you!” It had been more than a week since she’d seen Hobie. She marveled at how his crooked teeth made him look so charming. “I don’t know nothing about college, but I’m glad to see you.” In an instant, she forgot the deputy and Widow Ashton’s harsh words.
“I been thinking about you, Jodee,” Hobie said, ducking his head and blushing. “You sure do look pretty in them new clothes. Will you be going to the May Day dance? Girls dance around the May pole. My sisters make fancy baskets to leave on the doorsteps of whatever fellas they like. Did you ever do that?”
Jodee recalled, ever so dimly, the spring when she was eleven, hearing about May baskets at school. “Does anyone leave a May basket on your doorstep?” she asked in a teasing tone. Taking note of passersby staring at them, she edged away. Hobie shouldn’t be seen talking to her, she thought. Then she felt bitter, realizing she felt tainted and inferior.
Hobie blushed. “Two last year.” A sheepish grin tugged at his mouth.
She nodded with a smile but felt suddenly old. She adored the way his ears reddened. “Who left them for you?”
“Girls don’t leave names. Will you leave me a May basket, Jodee? I’ll ask you to dance. I don’t care what anybody says.”
Jodee sobered. “I don’t reckon it would be proper, me being older and all.”
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Leastways, I’m your friend.”
She looked into Hobie’s clear blue eyes and felt a rush of affection for him. He was all she could have wished for in a brother. “Yes, I’m your friend,” she said in her most sincere tone. “You and the marshal were the first to do me a kindness. I won’t never forget.”
He looked as if she had given him a rare gift.
She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch his arm. “I just heard the marshal isn’t in town. Do you know where he went?”
“He hasn’t been around in days. There’s letters at the post office, piling up. That new deputy, he don’t have nobody running errands for him. He does everything himself. The jailhouse floor’s covered with mud. I …” Hobie looked around, giving Mr. Wilson standing in the mercantile’s open doorway a defiant nod. “I hear tell Brucker got his hand shot up in a gunfight. Makes up for it by scaring the beans out of everybody. He’s got drunks locked up in both cells every night. He’s handing out fines for the least thing. I guess a lawman’s got to be hard, but he’s not as good as Marshal Harlow. Marshal Harlow cared about this town. Brucker’s just doing a job.”
Jodee felt relieved to know her first impression of the deputy had been correct.
“Brucker claims the marshal’s goin’ to quit. I thought he was going to buy land north of here where he took me fishing one time. I went out there Wednesday. I thought sure he'd be there. He wasn’t. He’s trailing Tangus. I’m sure of it.”
“So he’s not gone for good?” Dizzy with relief, Jodee stepped down to the street.
“I think he went back to that cabin where the shootout happened. That’s where I’d start if I was hunting a desperate outlaw like Burl Tangus.”
Her relief vanished. What if Burl had waylaid Corbet and he was already days dead? Jodee felt beside herself.
“Don’t worry,” Hobie said, “Marshal Harlow can take care of himself. I don’t have to be home for an hour. Maybe he’s back by now. We could go out there and see. I got money. We could rent a couple horses.”
After a moment Jodee nodded.
Throwing his broom aside, Hobie grabbed Jodee’s hand and they raced down Main Street, laughing. Jodee felt ten years old again.
• • •
Jodee’s better judgment screamed, Get the calico and go back, but she could no more stop herself from heeling her rented mount and racing after Hobie than she could have stopped herself from loving Corbet. Thundering past Hobie, she rode with abandon. Her hair came loose and lifted into the wind like a banner. It had been weeks since she’d ridden on horseback, not since after the holdup. Her muscles felt feeble, but for a few blessed moments she was free.
Hobie called to her. Not wishing to worry him, she reined finally at a twist in the trail and became aware suddenly of how alone they were so far from town. The way ahead looked desolate. Her pistol was in her knapsack on Avinelle’s back porch. Hobie probably carried nothing more than a whittling knife.
Jodee’s joy fell away. The mountain loomed like a shadow. The wind rushed in the pine tops. The roaring creek ahead and a hawk wheeling in the afternoon sky reminded her of her father and her heart broke afresh. She could almost picture her father riding toward her from around the bend. It felt as if the holdup had never happened and he was still alive.
Hobie galloped in behind her. “You win,” he yelled, reining beside her and panting as if he had done all the galloping himself. His blue eyes searched her face with fretful yearning.
Jodee tried to smile, but she couldn’t shake sad thoughts of her father. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the fact that he was gone. “How much farther?”
“Yonder there.” Hobie pointed.
She walked the horse alongside Hobie’s, unable to think of anything to say. What did folks talk about if they weren’t discussing holdups and loot?
“That new deputy came by a couple days ago, asking if I wanted to sweep up at the jailhouse for him,” Hobie said as if the idea disgusted him. “Ma lit into him—she told me later he had the smile of a snake. I’ve never seen a snake smile, have you?” Hobie grinned. He was flirting.
Hobie, she wanted to say, I seen smiling snakes near every day for the last two years, but she remained silent.
“Out of its banks with snowmelt,” Hobie said, pointing to the raging creek as they walked the horses. There, on a wedge of level ground out of the creek’s tumbling reach huddled a canvas field tent. There stood Corbet’s big horse tethered to a stake. His campfire gushed smoke.
“He’s here!” Hobie yelled with a grin.
At the sound of their approach, Corbet ducked out from the tent’s front flap. He had his gun in one hand and an oily rag in the other. Jodee’s heart filled at the sight of him. Before she knew what she was doing, she threw herself out of her saddle, hit the ground hard, and ran full speed at Corbet. She had her arms around his neck—his hands were too full to return her embrace—and hugged him with all her strength.
“I thought you was gone,” she cried. She marveled at the tall, solid warmth of him. It was all she could do to keep from kissing him full on the mouth.
She realized then what she was doing in front of Hobie and released Corbet. But she couldn’t worry about Hobie. Corbet’s eyes carressed her face, although he was aware of Hobie’s presence, too.
“What are you both doing here?”
“You went off without a word!” Jodee scolded. Oh, now she sounded like Avinelle. “I’ve heard no end of it from Avinelle. Where’d you go?”
“Whoa,” Corbet said, chuckling. He laid his gun aside.
Hobie dismounted. He tethered the rented horses to a nearby pine. When he met Jodee’s eyes, his expression had tuned dark with hurt.
“Marshal,” he said with an air of formality. He stepped forward to shake hands like a man. “You’ve got letters and telegraph messages waiting. Brucker’s filling the jail with drunks. Walter Hamm got himself a hard knock on the head early this morning in his shop. He was pulling a tooth, but the man apparently didn’t appreciate the effort. Or pay. Hamm claims the same man was in his shop weeks back, and none too friendly then, either. You think Brucker could find him? Hell, no. I don’t think he even tried.”
“All right, Hobie. I’m headed back,” Corbet said, his smile worn down. “Can you both stay and help me finish this coffee? You think Brucker’s wrong for the job?”
At being asked his opinion, Hobie seemed mollified. “I guess he’ll do so long as you’re around to keep him in line,
but you can’t just up and leave whenever you want, Marshal. We need to know where to find you. I have to get home to my chores now. Jodee probably has things she was planning to do, too. I got her off track.”
Jodee had forgotten all about buying calico for an apron. “I had to get out of that house. Things ain’t healthy when Avinelle’s in a snit. Aren’t,” she corrected herself. “And that deputy asked me to walk out with him. Widow Ashton was ready to throw me in the street. I hadn’t done nothing! Not nothing! Anything. If I was all she claims I am, I would’ve cleaned her out days ago and been gone, but no, I keep taking her guff and working the best I know how. What ails you, Corbet? Say something.”
“I would if you two would let me get in a word. Sit down. There’s little to be done at the moment.”
While Jodee poked at and improved the draw of Corbet’s poorly built campfire, Corbet poured coffee from a pot that looked new. “I went back to that cabin, found the hole in the floor. That place is about to fall in. I found tracks under the cabin. All up and down the creek. Weather erased all trace of Tangus beyond that.”
“Tangus?” Hobie put in excitedly.
“I waited two days, but saw no one. I hiked up-creek a ways. If he got away by that route, he’s a mountain goat. I returned along the route we took to Kirkstone.”
As she sat, relishing the sound of Corbet’s voice and the last of the afternoon sun, Jodee watched from the corners of her eyes. If Burl were near, wouldn’t she sense it? Wouldn’t she smell him? Something had the hairs standing up on her arms.
When the sun went below the ridge, casting the valley in twilight, Corbet tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fire, kicked dirt over the flames and went for his horse. Leaving his tent standing because he intended to return, they were back in town within ten minutes. Returning their rented horses at the livery, Hobie scarcely looked at Jodee as he bid her a hasty goodbye.
“Thanks for the horseback ride,” she called after him.
He didn’t answer.
Hating to start back for Avinelle’s after being gone so long, Jodee sighed. She cast Corbet a longing look. “I’d best be going, too. I’m in for a scolding.”
She saw Brucker leaning against the jailhouse porch post. He tipped his hat to her, but she gave no indication she’d seen him. A dozen things to say raced through her mind, all unladylike.
Corbet looked like he wanted to say something, too, but he saw Brucker as well.
The deputy forced himself upright as if it were an effort and sauntered closer. His very walk irritated Jodee. Didn’t Corbet see the man was trouble?
“Find anything?” Brucker asked.
Corbet turned a casual eye on the man. “Nothing to speak of. I’ll see Miss McQue home. Then I’ll want a report from you.”
“Yes, sir,” Brucker said, winking at Jodee.
Offering his elbow to Jodee, Corbet launched at once into what Jodee sensed was a lot of empty conversation. She tripped alongside him, scarcely able to follow his long stride. When Brucker was out of sight, Corbet slowed. “Sorry, Jodee. I didn’t mean to make you run. From now on I want you to be extra careful. I might have flushed Tangus.”
She looked around at the buildings with upstairs windows overlooking the street and shadowed alleyways where Burl might be hiding, watching them. She saw nothing unusual but felt uneasy nonetheless. “I can’t figure why Burl would stay around. Are you expecting a big shipment of gold for that new safe at the depot?”
Corbet studied her face. “Gold doesn’t ship to a town this size, Jodee. It ships away from places like this to bigger places like Cheyenne City and Denver. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were fishing for information.”
Abruptly, Jodee drew away, stung to the core by his insinuation.
“Just saying, Jodee,” he said, catching her arm. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“Then what’s the safe for, if not gold?” she snapped. “It looked heavy. I saw it from your window.”
“This town’s growing. The depot needed something better than a strong box behind the agent’s chair. If that’s what Tangus was after, if that’s why he robbed the stage, he would’ve been in for a big surprise when he got it open. The safe was shipped here empty.”
Jodee clapped her hands over her mouth. For a few seconds she wanted to laugh. Then a wash of horror went through her. Her father died for an empty safe.
“That’s all Burl talked about,” she cried. “That safe. He came here before the holdup, talked to people probably, found out things. I told you that’s how he decided what he wanted to rob. Big safe, he told Pa and old man Rike. Full of gold, he said.”
“Does he think it’s still full of gold?” Corbet asked. “It’s heavy, sure. It’s the latest thing. Fireproof. Double walls of plate iron.”
Jodee longed to sit down.
“It’s either the safe, or you, Jodee,” Corbet said. “Why come for you after all this time? It's all right to admit it. Did you ever lead him to believe you’d accept him?”
“Never,” she bit out. “I told you, I hated him, and he knew it.”
“Aw, Jodee, when you look at me like that, all I want is to kiss you. I can’t kiss you here.”
She glared at him, but what was the use? She couldn’t stay angry with him. “If he’s still hanging around, I don’t know why. There’s a May Day celebration next week. Will you dance with me?” She fought the urge to move closer.
With a gentle nudge, Corbet headed her on toward Avinelle’s. “There’s a parade down Main Street in the morning. A picnic in the afternoon, a dance that night. Of course I’ll dance with you. And every other woman in town. I can’t play favorites, much as I might like to.”
Why couldn’t he play favorites if she was, indeed, his favorite? Corbet had no intention of settling down, Jodee thought. She could tell just by looking at him. This town was his responsibility and his life. He’d never give that up. She marched on, feeling tired and dejected.
When they arrived at Avinelle’s, the front door opened as if Maggie had been on watch. Corbet followed Jodee into the silent house. Hanna appeared in the rear doorway long enough to make Jodee think she’d been waiting, too. Taking one last look at Corbet, drinking in his face as if for the last time, Jodee set her jaw.
Widow Ashton appeared in the parlor doorway. She tried to look as if she had only just been passing that way. Jodee knew she was acting a part. “To what do I owe this newest unexpected visit?” She tried to make it sound as if Corbet's visits were a trial. Jodee was certain that was only because his visits were not to see Avinelle.
“Just escorting Jodee home,” Corbet said with an air of casualness that seemed expert. “There was an assault in town. Make sure Bailey keeps the place locked up tight.”
“No trouble with Jodee, I trust,” the widow said. “You told me you were going to town for calico.”
Jodee marveled at how Miss Ashton always managed to make her feel on the defensive. “It must be time to serve supper. Evening, Marshal. Thanks for seeing me back safe from all the thieving renegades and outlaws lurking hereabouts.”
He gave her the slightest of bows.
Jodee found Maggie and Hanna huddled against the door, listening. She took a place beside them. “Where’s Avinelle?”
“She and the old cat have been fighting all afternoon,” Hanna whispered.
“Because I was late?”
“Do they need a reason?”
• • •
Burl sat on a crate of wine bottles, nibbling cheese and picking at a loaf of bread, leaving holes like a mouse. His jaw ached, but with the molar out he felt some better. He itched to know what those harpies had been shouting about all the day long. He heard footsteps pacing back and forth in the room overhead. The kitchen, he supposed. He smelled cooking. His belly clenched with hunger but it was too soon to chew.
With a sliver of late afternoon sunlight coming in around the slanted doors, he plucked a whiskey bottle from his pocket and took a de
ep pull. He held the burning liquid on the side of his mouth where the crater in his gum throbbed.
Burl hoped the barber’s head hurt equal to his own. He should’ve hit him again, but someone came along. He lit out the back. He was done with this town, he thought. The moment the pain was bearable, he’d strip this place clean.
Hearing a man’s voice coming from the front of the house, Burl swallowed, hunched low, and listened hard. The marshal. Burl aimed his pistol at the cellar ceiling and went “pop” with his lips. His mouth responded with a deep stab of pain. Moaning, cussing under his breath, he crept to the top of the narrow stairs and pressed his ear to the door that was locked from the other side. Like that would stop him the moment he decided he was going through it…
Faintly, he heard the marshal’s bootsteps cross the front porch.
“Bye-bye, Marshal,” he whispered, draining the bottle and wishing he could throw it. He heard voices and footsteps in the kitchen. Easing silently down the stairs, Burl curled up on the dirt floor, pistol loaded and cocked. In moments he was asleep.
Fourteen
Widow Ashton’s orders were to clean the upstairs rooms. Jodee and Maggie dusted, polished and rearranged everything. Maggie pointed out fascinating details from the crystal-fringed lamp on the side table to Widow Ashton’s silver dressing set, a matching comb, brush hand mirror, plus a complete set of silver-topped glass jars. Jodee stared, wondering how much such finery cost. By comparison, her own belongings seemed tawdry indeed.
In the guest room Jodee noticed the music box missing. Her heart did an anxious patter when she showed Maggie.
Maggie nodded, “I make them doilies,” she said, pointing to where the music box had been. “It’s called tatting. I’ll show you.” She took Jodee into the hallway. Going up the narrow back stairs, she unlocked a plank door. The attic room smelled fresh because Maggie’s dormer windows were open to the mountain air.
Jodee ran her hand over Maggie’s bright bed quilt. The pillow slip had the most elegant embroidery Jodee had ever seen. On the nightstand lay her handkerchief which she had given Maggie. There was a chair close to a window. Beside it stood a table with a lamp and basket of thread on top of mounds of white frills. Maggie lifted a handful, unfurling yards of tatted lace.
Her Outlaw Heart Page 18
