David nods. “I understand. So I take it, we are going on a shopping spree tomorrow?”
“Uh, sorta.” John looks at Blackwolf. Still not sure he can trust the young marshal. He is curious as to why the young man is so quiet. On closer examination, it appears the young man is experiencing some kind of serious distress.
John looks at David. “So, why do you ask? Did you have other things planned? Maybe getting a ring for Miss Rebekah?” John’s grin is only mildly malicious.
“More like I would like to make sure you remembered your promise.” David’s tone turned suddenly serious.
John nods. “Yeah. White. Patient. I remember.”
“Patient?” Blackwolf asks.
“Yeah. I had a patient brought to me two days after the landrun. Had been claim-jumped. He got tore up real bad. So bad in fact, at first glance I almost gave up all hope. But, I heard the calling of Christ and worked diligently to make sure she recovered.”
“Wait. Didn’t you just say, ‘He got tore up’ and now you say, ‘she recovered’?” Blackwolf asks, in a tone of confusion.
“Yeah. She took part in the landrun, dressed as a young man, but on her way to turn in her claim paperwork, got jumped. Thankfully the attack didn’t expose her deception and she escaped with her honor intact. I was able to tend her wounds, but haven’t been able to check on her since.”
“Oh.” Blackwolf says, discomfort becoming more evident on his face. “So, why do you want John’s help?”
“He’s afraid the family he left her with will cause trouble. I’m the hired muscle to help convince them to behave,” John answers in his friend’s stead.
“Oh. I see.” The young man’s face has a definite greenish cast to it.
John studies the young marshal’s face. His distrust quickly getting replaced with a growing suspicion the young man may be involved somehow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. At least I think I am.” He breathes slowly. “Actually, I will be fine. We need to discuss this later, in private, okay?” He slowly exhales once more.
John nods in agreement and motions Sean over. “Can we get a little soda water for our friend, here? He seems to be having a little trouble.”
Sean nods, leaves and comes back shortly with a small glass of fizzing liquid. He offers it to the young man, who drinks it quickly. He breathes out a belch and looks sheepish at the reaction to the liquid.
John chuckles and David grins.
Blackwolf clears his throat meaningfully. “I have had quite the long day. I think I may need to hit the hay soon. When you gentlemen get done, will you be able to have that discussion we were talking about earlier?”
John pours the remains of his Guinness down his throat, then nods, and David takes one last sip of his coffee, before nodding, showing he is ready to go as well.
All three men rise and troop upstairs. Blackwolf leads the way to his room. He ushers the other two men in, before closing the door firmly and locking it from the inside.
John immediately tenses. David looks on in interest.
Blackwolf turns to John and, out of frustration demands, “What? What did I do to you?”
John levels a gaze at the young man. “What do you mean?”
“Down in the bathhouse you said you would give me time. You asked to trust you and I did. Do you know how hard it was for me to do that? Then you went cold on me. Why? What did I do to make you so angry?”
“You went into that stall completely clothed. You came out the same. You words said ‘Thank you, I trust what you are doing’ and your actions said ‘I don’t trust you at all’. Are you some hideous creature under there? I don’t care if you are hiding some kind of deformity. It just feels like you threw my trust into . . .” he grits his teeth for emphasis, “. . . my teeth”.
Blackwolf seems to fold in on himself for a moment. “So, that’s it. I insulted you, by hiding something from you?” He bows his head in frustration.
“Yeah. Now, if you will excuse me.” He moves to leave, but is stopped when Blackwolf raises his hand.
“Don’t, please. Not like this,” comes the broken response. Slowly, almost as if pushing his hand into fire, Blackwolf’s other hand slowly lifts to his hat. With a final sigh of determination, he slowly pulls his hat off to reveal a wet long coil of hair that was hidden inside. He flips the coil over his shoulder and shakes it to allow the hair to break free.
He squares his shoulders, glares at the two men and slowly says in a feminine voice deep with anger, “My name is Josephine Brouwer. Now you know the secret that could get me and my whole family killed.”
Chapter 46
John is stunned. Of all the things he expected, this is the least. He expected some type of grotesque dis-figuration, some family resemblance to the Buchannans, something other than this, anything other than this. He is brought out of his reverie by David’s low whistle of surprise and a low, long whisper of, “Yeah.”
John continues standing there, rooted in place by this revelation. Everything falls into place in his mind. He can now see why the young woman reacted the way she did.
Josephine is standing there, just glaring at them. She tosses her hat to the bed and crosses her arms, then asks, “Well? After all that, you have nothing to say?”
John swallows slowly and responds, “Thank you for trusting us with this. I understand why you are lying to everyone and can understand your insistence on being called Blackwolf when in public. What do we call you in private, ma’am?”
She breathes deeply, apparently trying to control her emotions. “My friends call me Joey. I guess you can count yourselves among my friends, since you now know something less than a handful of people know.”
“Does your family know about this?” David asks suddenly.
“My pa knows I bounty hunt, but doesn’t know I got a badge now.”
Stunned, John asks, “And he’s okay with you being a bounty hunter?”
She smirks. “I said he knows. I never said he’s okay with it.” She steps over to the bed, moves her hair out of the way and sits on the edge, bearing deflated. “So, where do we go from here?”
John strokes his jaw thoughtfully, considering things, weighing his words. “So, I take it, you’re not willing to stop bounty hunting or being a marshal?”
“Absolutely not.”
“David and I both have issues in our own lives as well. I say we act like nothing ever happened and keep the secret buried deep. Do you agree?”
She nods.
“Neither David or I will say anything about it.”
David nods in agreement.
The look in her eyes, as she looks up at him is one of vulnerability. “Guess I don’t have a choice, but to trust you now. Thank you. You don’t know how much I truly appreciate that.”
John nods his welcome.
She sighs. “I haven’t said it yet, but thank you for guarding me in the bathhouse.”
John steps over to her, places a comforting hand on her shoulder and says, “You’re welcome. It will be okay, you know. I have no trouble helping where I can.”
A single tear escapes the corner of her eye as she puts her arms around the older man’s waist, almost crushing him in a hug.
John stands there, a confused welter of emotion rages through him. Never before has he felt like this. This conflicted, vulnerable young woman clung to him as if her life depended on his strength.
He places his arm on her back clumsily. He’s unsure what to do now. He knows he isn’t attracted to this girl sexually, but something draws him to her. He wants to make her feel safe, comforted, empowered. He stands there in that embrace for several minutes, before a knocking breaks John out of his reverie.
The knock comes from down the hall. John is unsure why it makes him so uncomfortable, almost like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He pulls away from Joey, and looks down at her face, now streaked with tears.
She wipes her face of the tears and extends her left hand to John.
He looks down and sees she is handing him the key to the door.
Oh. Catching her meaning, he takes the proffered key, unlocks the door, opens it, steps outside, and leaves it slightly ajar. He sees Sean standing there in front of the door to his room, knocking. It takes John a moment to realize Sean is holding a high-sided tray with writing implements on it.
Why is he trying to bring me stuff to write with? John clears his throat meaningfully. Sean looks quickly at him.
“T’hank heavens yer still awake, Marshal. Lyttle had t’his sent over a little bit ago,” Sean says, relief evident in his voice.
“Lyttle? Oh. That’s right. Um, here, let me put that inside.” He moves forward, unlocks the door to his room and takes the tray from the young man. “Thank you for bringing this up for us.”
“Is Marshal Blackwolf okay? I looked for him after supper. He asked about Mam’s recipes, t’hen vanished. Ma mam wanted ta talk cooking wit’ him, but couldn’t find’em. Is he okay? He seemed like he wasnae feelin’ well.”
“Yeah. He’ll be feelin’ better come mornin’. I think it was just a touch of nerves.”
Sean nods. “I kin imagine. He seemed like he was feelin’ a bit dyspeptic earlier. Should I bring up some warm milk? Help him sleep?”
“I think he would appreciate that. Go ahead and knock when you bring it up. I’ll make sure he knows to expect you.” John quickly sets the tray down and leaves his room.
Sean nods and heads back downstairs while John hurries back into Joey’s room.
John says in a low voice, “Sean’s bringing some warm milk up for you. He’s worried you’re feeling sick. I told him you’d had a touch of nerves. Do you feel up to covering back up?”
Joey nods, stands, and goes to the pitcher. She wets a corner of the towel with water from the pitcher and wipes off her face, undoing the streaks of the tears. Then she twists her hair and leans down to put it into her hat. When she raises her face, Joe Blackwolf now gazes forth.
John is impressed with how quickly she can don her mask.
There is an almost timid knock on the door. Joey’s face falls immediately. Her skin drains of blood and her steps falter as she goes to the door. Her shaky voice answers the knock. “Yes?”
Sean says through the door, “I’ve brought ya some warm milk ta help ya rest, Marshal.”
She opens the door slowly and accepts the cup. “Oh, thank you,” she says with gratitude evident. “This should help a lot.”
Sean sketches a half-bow. “All I kin ask is ta be of help. Oh, ma mam would like ta talk wit’ ya abou’ recipes, when ya get tha chance.”
John sees the interest spark in Joey’s eyes. He doubts Sean caught it, but he’s sure David did.
Sean says, “She’ll be able ta talk, when ya can. If’n ya dunnae mind, I’ll be prayin’ ya feel better soon. Well, I hope ya have a good night, Marshal.”
Joey is obviously touched by the statement. She holds up the coffee cup of warm milk, and says, “Thank you so much for both the milk and the prayers.”
John rolls his eyes at the comments. He’s not sure why people put such store in so unbelievable a fairy tale. He looks over at David with a look of disapproval which is returned with an impudent grin. John fights to suppress a disconsolate sigh.
Sean heads back down the hall as Joey closes then locks the door. She mutters to herself, “How sweet of him. I will have to think of a way to thank him.”
John squares his shoulders and says, “Both David and I will need to write out our depositions tonight. Neither one of us will get any sleep, unless we get started soon.”
Joey nods. “I know old men need their sleep, or they get cranky.” Her smile lights the room.
John sighs.
David chuckles and says, “Point goes to her. Come on, old man.” Then he pulls John by the shirt out the door, leaving Joey to her warm milk. They hear the door lock the instant it closes.
She must be eager to get comfortable and to go to bed.
David follows John into his room long enough to get his own writing materials.
After David leaves, John stands at the dresser, staring at the blank page. So much has happened. Where does one begin? He thinks back. Does he start with the first meeting with Jacobson, or does he begin with Jeff’s attack on him?
He sits down on the edge of the bed and holds his face in his hands. Joey’s unexpected revelation has really unsettled him tonight. After a few more moments of indecision, he rises and starts writing on the page. It’s his story to tell, he will tell it his way. He’s glad that Lyttle sent numerous sheets of paper. He’ll probably use all of them, if this bit was any indication.
John is so focused on writing, he is surprised when he can’t see enough to write. When he decides to stop long enough to light a lantern, he looks down and sees that there are a full five pages written out. He’s a bit shocked and a bit relieved that he can finally get everything down onto the paper. Only a page or two more at most, and he will be done. He checks the level of ink in his well. There’s just enough left. He walks around his room for a few minutes to stretch out the kinks, to get some of his muscles to relax.
He hears a knock on his door. He opens it, to see David holding a half dozen hand-written sheets filled front and back, with the young doctor’s neat script.
David smiles, hands the pages over, hands his quill and well to John, then says, “Quite the arduous task. Are you done as yet?”
John shakes his head.
“Oh. Okay. I think I’ll go have a drink downstairs. When you get done, feel like joining me?”
John nods. “Yeah. I think I will be down in a few.”
David waves bye, turns, then leaves. John turns back to the task at hand. Ten minutes later, he sets the page down in a place that the ink can dry, caps the well and heads downstairs.
As he reaches the foot of the stairs, he looks at the clock. Ten O’clock. He’s surprised it’s as late as it is. The late-summer sun must be setting around either-thirty or nine.
As he walks into the dining area, he sees Sean and David seated at a table, speaking quietly to each other. He pulls up a chair for himself. “So, what did I miss?” he asks.
David smiles. “I was just letting Sean know about the marshal’s condition. I told him the marshal told us about having been on the road so much lately, he is just completely worn out.”
Sean nods. “It comes from no takin’ a day off like tha Good Lord intended. Eventually, tha human body says enough.”
David nods in agreement.
John sighs. Well, at least he’s consistent.
Joseph walks up and asks, “Can I git ya somethin’ ta drink, Marshal?”
John nods. “I think I would like a Guinness.”
Joseph’s smile is wide. “A man after ma own heart. I’ll be right back.”
Sean looks at John curiously and asks, “Ya really like the stuff, doan ya?”
John nods. “It beats the swill we’ve had to drink, for sure.” He places his forearms on the table and asks, “Would you be willing to sell me some of the casks you brought in? I don’t want to have to come to Norman every time I want a decent drink after all.”
Sean nods. “I t’hink we can sell ya few o’ t’hem. When we got here, we brought twenty o’ those five gallon casks. We’ve only gone t’hrough a coupla t’hem. Ya have helped us wit’ tha second.” He looks thoughtful for a moment or two. “I t’hink we might be able to part wit’, oh, let’s say four ‘o t’hem?” John’s surprise is evident on his face. Sean grins, “I had tole ya, we havenae been able to drink it fast enough ta keep it from goin’ stale.”
“How much?”
“Lessee here, we bought ‘em for ten dollars each. I’ll hefta ask da, but I cannae think if we dunnae lose any money on t’hem, he will mind.”
John’s look is speculative. “Make sure and you have yourself a deal.”
Joseph approaches the table with two large tankards of Guinness. When he sets them down, Sean motions for his f
ather to follow him to the kitchen for a minute. Joseph and Sean return less than five minutes later, both grinning. “Da agrees. Ya kin have four casks of Guinness at ten dollars a cask.”
Joseph spits in his hand and holds it out. John spits in his and they shake. Joseph’s smile gets wider. “Better yet. Let’s drink to it!” He picks up a tankard and salutes John.
John picks up his tankard, salutes with it, and quaffs half of it.
Joseph drains his in one drink. He finishes the drink and gasps in pleasure, saying “T’is sweet as ma own mam’s sweet milk, ‘tis.”
John nods in agreement. He enjoys the feeling as the alcohol spreads its warmth through him.
Joseph leaves to get himself another tankard. John smiles when the Irishman walks up, salutes John and downs that glass in a single drink. John finishes his.
David looks on in amazement. “Sean? Might I be able to get just a regular beer? I get the feeling this is about to get out of hand.”
Sean’s smile is wide. “I kin do t’hat, but ma da is done drinkin’ so much. O’terwise, mam is gonna kill him.”
Joesph smiles and says, “Speakin’ o’ ma lovely wife, I need ta tell her abou’ our good for’tune.” He and Sean leave.
Sean returns a few moments later with a Guinnesses and an ale.
An hour later, feeling comfortably numb, both John and David head upstairs to their rooms. John makes it to his bed, kicks his boots off and passes out cold.
Chapter 47
John is awakened by someone whispering his name. He opens his eyes to see Liz in the bed next to him, snuggled against him. She looks just like the last time he saw her.
She turns to face him and says in a sleepy voice, “I love you. Why did you forget me?”
John sits straight up in the bed and looks around. Early morning. Just about dawn. He feels a pang of loneliness in his chest. A pang of loneliness like he hasn’t felt in a very long time.
He is surprised to feel tears coursing down his cheeks. He looks down and sees Liz still there. This time, there’s blood all over her.
The Marshal of Denver Page 26
