Her Outlaw Heart

by Samantha Harte

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. She was scarcely able to see as Corbet stooped and straightened. He was smiling now, really smiling, but his brows were tilted up in anguish, making him look boyish and dear. He reached through the open window to hand her a stone he had grabbed up from the street. It was nothing special, just a mottled tan rock with a vein of white quartz running through it. It was the most commonplace rock in all the west. She might find countless millions of them alongside any roadway.

  When he handed it to her, she curled her gloved fingers around it. She squeezed until its hardness felt imprinted into her palm. She looked into Corbet Harlow’s eyes and basked in his love for her. He loved her. She could see it! She hoped he could feel her love for him.

  But Corbet didn’t say he loved her, and he didn’t say he’d wait for her return. As he stepped back he waved to the driver. “Take care of my best girl, Daniel.”

  Then Corbet stepped out of the way of the stagecoach’s big wheels. He grinned that fabulous grin, all his teeth showing. His eyes squeezed up, as if he was having trouble seeing. As the driver gave a yell and snapped his whip, Corbet lifted his hand, half wave, half salute.

  Jodee held up her trembling fist with the rock clenched hard against the thin leather covering her palm. She had no thoughts in that last moment. All she knew was the look on Corbet’s face. He loved her, and he was letting her go.

  The stagecoach began rolling forward, slowly at first, then faster and faster, past Ellis Brothers, Boots, Shoes, and Leather Findings; Stanley Holt, Seller of Whiskey and Cigars; and Munjoy’s Fine Furniture and Coffins—Jodee still had trouble reading the signboards. The stagecoach rolled out of Burdeen City to the road headed south toward Cheyenne City.

  Jodee sank back stiffly in the seat, heart drumming so fast she couldn’t think. She was leaving, she thought, rocking uncomfortably in her hard seat. She sat like that a long time, stiff and numb and baffled that she had the courage to do what she was doing. Corbet’s smile was etched in her vision, blurring everything. She listened for him, but he didn’t follow.

  In time, she turned her eyes to the piney vista passing outside the stagecoach windows. In time, she grew thirsty. In time, the driver halted at a stage stop for another change of horses. The stage stop was not too far from Ship Creek Crossing. Jodee got out to stretch her legs, not knowing if she was anywhere near the spot where her father died. She could still taste Corbet Harlow’s kiss.

  • • •

  That fifth of May, Ed Brucker took over as town marshal of Burdeen City. Some claimed Corbet Harlow was seen sitting in the Bale ’O Hay Saloon, staring at an untouched shot of whiskey. Then he was gone.

  Corbet spent the summer building a cabin on the land he’d bought. All he thought about was laying foundation stones in a perfect square, felling the straightest pines he could find, and raising straight log walls. He ate in the open air, got sunburned, and his arms and shoulders swelled with aching new muscles. He began to think about the years he’d worked on the dairy farm in Wisconsin, milking, pitching hay, laughing with little Jenny.

  When the weather turned bad that fall, before the cabin’s roof was on, Corbet slept in his tent. When the roof was done, and a porch stood across the front, wide enough for two rocking chairs to sit in shelter, Corbet realized the place reminded him of that cabin in the mountains where he’d first seen Jodee…after he shot her. He sat on the edge of his porch every night, remembering that fateful day. Jodee was in Arkansas now, he told himself. She’d gone back to her family. She was home and happy at last.

  She hadn’t written. She’d never come back. He was certain of it.

  One morning in late October, Corbet packed his saddlebags and headed into town. He rode slowly, taking note of the changes since Jodee left. Hobie had gone east. Several new stores were under construction. The place seemed colorless and devoid of spirit. He felt like a ghost.

  He saw a man in a dark suit and bowler hat entering Avinelle’s house, so he kept going. Avinelle didn’t miss him. He didn’t miss her. His face itched beneath a summer’s growth of whiskers. Folks probably didn’t even recognize him. As he turned south toward Cheyenne City, Corbet retraced the route he and the posse took months before. He thought of Jodee and how she had looked that day in May, sitting in that stagecoach in her veiled hat and traveling suit. She’d looked older—except in her eyes. Those wide, wide wonderful blue eyes full of fire and hope.

  Jodee was gone, and he had let her go, his girl with the outlaw heart.

  Epilogue

  Jodee felt as if she’d left Burdeen City only days before. In two years, she could see that much had changed. The Ashton Babcock Stage Line was no more. The depot had been turned into a bank.

  From Cheyenne City she’d traveled to Burdeen in a railroad coach car named Spirit of the Rockies on the newly opened Denver and Cheyenne spur. Where cattle pens once spread now stood a new train station. Wagon sheds, warehouses, and a lumberyard had taken over the area where the livery barn used to be and where she had danced one magical night.

  Main Street had grown two blocks longer, sporting new stores all along the way. The ugly little jailhouse was gone, replaced by a brick courthouse with two officious white pillars in front. New streets had sprouted, lined with houses, cabins, and bungalows.

  As Jodee hurried along the train station’s platform, her heart filled with anticipation. What was left of Corbet’s feelings toward her? she wondered. Two years was a long time to be away. He might’ve forgotten her. From her pocket she pulled out the rock he’d given her that last day in the stagecoach and held it tightly. Not a day had passed in two years that she hadn’t yearned to see his face and hear his voice again.

  “Send my trunks to the hotel,” she instructed the baggage man, tipping him.

  It was a brilliant midsummer day, the sky as clear as she remembered. Wagon traffic was heavy. Dust hung in the air. More than ever, Burdeen looked to be a prospering place.

  Hurrying along board walkways, Jodee paused in front of Wilson’s Mercantile, her gaze fixed on a plump, red-haired woman inside. Pasty Robstart stood behind the counter, waiting on a rancher’s wife. She was as pregnant as any woman could be and still show herself in public. Behind her trailed a two year old with wonderful red ringlets. Was that little Henry?

  Two years, Jodee thought, marveling that she had been able to stay away so long.

  All those years, living with her father in shacks and rough camps seemed to have happened to someone else. That month recovering from her gunshot wound here in Burdeen was a dim memory, too. The scar on her shoulder only ached when it rained. The Rikes and Burl Tangus rarely crossed her mind. In the end she did go home, and she was happy enough there, but that, too, now seemed like a dream.

  Unready to face Patsy, Jodee stuck to her purpose. At the hotel she met a desk clerk who looked astonishingly similar to Hobie. “Is room 8 available?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, grinning with a mouthful of crooked teeth.

  She signed the register Jodeen McQuerin. That was her father’s true and legal name, spelled out on her parents’ marriage certificate. She found that, just as her mother said she would, stored in a trunk filled with her belongings.

  Upstairs, the hotel room looked just as it had the day Avinelle had bid her goodbye. “Have my things brought up when they arrive from the depot, please.”

  Jodee wondered if she’d see Avinelle and her mother, but she hadn’t come all this way to think about them just yet, or see them. She had come home to find Corbet.

  Home, Jodee thought. Burdeen felt like home.

  Outside again, holding her hat as wind gusted, she wondered where the new jailhouse was. Would she encounter Corbet making his rounds? Wouldn’t it be fun to simply walk up to him on a board walkway and say a casual hello? For a thousand miles she’d lived on the fantasy that he would see her coming toward him but not recognize her at first. Then she’d see the blossoming of his smile and she’d know…she’d know he still loved her.r />
  Passersby tipped their hats, but no one recognized her. For two years no other man had captured her interest. There’d been former schoolmates ready to court her, but she hadn’t liked any of them.

  After several minutes of walking, Jodee began to worry. When she came to the restaurant once called “The Hungry Bear,” she saw a hand-lettered signboard in the window that read, “Hanna’s Home Cooking.”

  Without hesitation, she rushed inside. There, bustling between tables, was Hanna’s daughter Bonnie in a long apron, sporting a wedding band and looking as if she was expecting, too. Hanna came into the dining area to serve a table crowded with drovers. She looked harried but happy in her task.

  Squirming with excitement, Jodee waited by the door.

  The minute Hanna realized she was there, her freckled face split into a grin. “Ceddy!” Hanna bellowed, rushing forward, open-armed. “Look who’s come home!”

  This was the welcome Jodee had missed in Arkansas.

  Cedric Bailey emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. His seamed face folded into a broad grin, too. He looked nothing like the lonely surrey driver Jodee remembered. He looked new. “Miss Jodee! We thought we’d never see you again!”

  Hanna caught Jodee in a fierce hug.

  “This is your restaurant?” Jodee asked, studying Hanna’s happy face. “What’s Mr. Bailey doing here?”

  “Why, girl. Me and him, we’re married! I’m Hanna Bailey almost two years. We opened this place when Artie moved on. You won’t know this town, it’s changed so.” Hanna’s expression clouded suddenly. Hastily she untied her apron and propelled Jodee outside. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she called to her daughter and husband. “Why, just look at you, girl, all decked out. You’re still thin as a drowned rat, but prettier than ever. You made it back to Arkansas safe and sound? I knew that’s where you’d go. It only made sense. And you done well there?”

  “Well enough,” Jodee said, not wanting to talk about that yet.

  “You found your grandmother? Your aunt and uncle? Your cousins?”

  Jodee nodded. “My grandmother remembered me.” Jodee still found that a marvel. “She was glad I came back. She passed on a month ago. She left me her house, the barn where my grandfather died, and a hundred sixty acres. I gave the place to my aunt and uncle. I didn’t need it, but they have a big family. Six children, a new granddaughter. My uncle gave me some of his savings in trade. I tried to refuse, but—let’s just say I’m well set.” She shook off tangled emotions. “I’m so glad to see you, Hanna,” she said to change the subject. “Aren’t you the sly one? Married to Bailey. I never guessed you and Bailey were even friends.”

  “Surprised a lot of folks,” Hanna said with a smirk. “You surprised a few yourself, clearing out like you did so sudden-like. And just when we were all getting used to you.” She grinned.

  “Folks must’ve thought I was running away. I wasn’t, really. I was—”

  “Don’t think a thing about it,” Hanna said. “What folks think ain’t no never mind.”

  “I brought gifts,” Jodee announced as she walked. “Do you think Avinelle’s receiving today?”

  Hanna linked her arm with Jodee’s. It took only a few minutes to turn up the street and see Avinelle’s house with its wide front porch now crowded with rocking chairs. A sign hung at the gate: Boarders Welcome.

  Jodee stopped. She couldn't believe her eyes. “Whatever’s happened here?”

  “Avinelle went back east. We ain’t heard a word since.”

  “She went back to find her family, I’ll bet,” Jodee said, feeling faintly relieved.

  “And Miz Ashton, she cleared out, too. Took Maggie with her. California, we think. The stage line shut down. For a while folks had no way of getting back and forth to Cheyenne City until the railroad came through. That was a big to-do! Their house was sold at auction. Boteller bought it, found himself a new bride, a rancher’s daughter, moved into the carriage house and opened the place to boarders. There’s eleven of them now. Artie moved on. Quimby, too.” She nodded. “Lots of changes.”

  Jodee’s heart sank. With Quimby gone there was no hope of buying back her father’s gun or her mother’s locket. “I can’t imagine Reverend Boteller living in that carriage house with all those children.”

  “He farmed out the older ones to work, enclosed the stable to make an extra sleeping room. He does a good business.”

  Steeling herself, Jodee looked at Hanna, and Hanna looked back with a hard, clear stare.

  “So what brings you back after all this time, honey?”

  There was no use explaining that with her grandmother gone there was no affection lost between herself and the aunt and uncle who cared nothing about her. That part of her life had been laid to rest.

  “Tell me how Corbet is,” Jodee said softly, thrilled to at last speak his name. “I was certain I’d come back to find him married to Avinelle.”

  Hanna started back toward the restaurant. “I could use another serving girl.” She tossed Jodee a big smile. "Are you looking for a job?"

  Jodee shook her head. “Corbet didn’t get himself killed, did he?” Her heart stood still at the terrible words.

  Hanna slowed. “The day you left town, he quit marshaling. Brucker’s the marshal now. We don’t have any trouble with him in town. But Corbet’s gone. He bought his spread and proved it up. Built a cabin and grew a beard.” She laughed but had to dab at her eyes. “One day Ceddy and me remarked we hadn’t seen him in a while. We rode out to pay a call and found him gone.” She brightened. “But you came back to us. That’s something. What do you plan to do now that you’re here?”

  Jodee hadn’t imagined Corbet gone. “I don’t know,” she said. She was too surprised to cry.

  In her hotel room that night Jodee sat a long time by the window, wondering what she might do now that Corbet was gone. She didn’t have to work. She had enough cash money to last years.

  Word spread quickly that Jodee McQue—Jodeen McQuerin—was back in town. Patsy was the first to send an invitation to dinner. Jodee accepted with pleasure. She marveled at Patsy’s new house and Henry looking so darling and learning to talk. Best of all, Virgil was up and about although much changed from the robust deputy he’d once been. Thin and serious, he was manager of Wilson’s Mercantile.

  One day as she was shopping, Marshal Brucker hailed Jodee on the street. His grin was as insolent as ever. She stopped to talk with him, but he was called away and she was glad.

  What might she do with the lace blouse she brought for Avinelle or the silver sugar and creamer on a matching engraved tray for Widow Ashton? Or the thread assortment for Maggie? Jodee packed the things away, supposing she’d never see those women again.

  Eventually Jodee did what she knew she must do—she rented a buggy and drove out to the place where Corbet pitched his tent that long ago day when she and Hobie rode out there. Hobie was back east at college. His brother Warren was the hotel desk clerk and had no end of praise for his big brother.

  Jodee found Corbet’s cabin abandoned. She pulled the latch-string and went inside. Corbet had built a rope slung bed. The mattress stood on end to keep dirt from settling on it. Except for the earthy smell and empty feeling of the single room, Jodee felt Corbet’s presence in the very air she breathed. It felt as if that invisible tether that once held them together was still there.

  Outside, she circled the cabin, delighting to see the carefully set foundation stones. She imagined the hours of work Corbet spent, selecting, felling, and peeling the logs, levering them into place single-handedly. The creek was a babbling ribbon of silver water slipping between the boulders and brush nearby.

  Jodee’s heart swelled with love for the place. Corbet built the cabin thinking of her, she knew. His love was in every notched log, in the perfectly set window and in the heavy hewn door. There was even a flat boulder where she could sit in the sun and remember his smile. She could picture him lashing ropes between the boulder and his ho
rse to drag it into place.

  Corbet’s spirit lived all around her. The feeling was so strong that Jodee almost felt afraid sometimes, believing he might’ve died somewhere and no one knew about it. She feared she might wander down the valley some afternoon and find his bones among the boulders. How could he have gone off, saying nothing to those in town he cared for? Even Virgil was hurt to think Corbet left without a goodbye.

  Surely, Corbet left some memento, Jodee thought that first afternoon when she sat in front of the cabin, feeling the crisp mountain air dry her tears. She looked over the cabin inside and out, trying to imagine what Corbet’s life had been like after the roof was on. She dragged the mattress into the sunlight to air, imaging him sleeping on it. She looked for words carved into the windowsill; she looked for a hole in the floor where he might have hidden a strongbox. Nothing. Not a hint. She sat in the red glow of the sunset, pretending to be Corbet and thinking his thoughts. Where had he gone?

  Checking out of the hotel the next day, Jodee rented a buckboard and moved her trunks to the cabin. She bought supplies at Wilsons, telling Patsy where she’d be should anyone inquire. Then she set up housekeeping in the cabin. It was better than any place she and her pa had ever known. She felt some afternoons as if her father was there with her, fishing just around the bend in the creek where the water was deep. When she did her washing in the yard, she thought she could hear her mother’s skirts snapping in the breeze.

  Jodee laid out new linens on the bed—Hanna and Bailey presented her with a beautiful Jacob’s Ladder quilt. Patsy gave her a worn nine-patch. The stone fireplace drew perfectly. Jodee felt safe at night with a pine plank snug in the brackets, barring the door.

  She took care, gathering her kindling by day, watching for rattlers and varmints like in the old days when she followed her father from campsite to campsite. She had a grand vantage point, overlooking the valley and the creek. On Saturdays she joined Hanna and Cedric for supper at the restaurant. She had Sunday dinners with Patsy, Virgil, and little Henry, who was soon joined by a baby sister they named Sally.