Uma's Undoing

by Dallis Adams

  The beautiful copper and gold horse brow band was gone. So were the stirrups missing from the hook on the wall. He glanced around on the floor and found the stirrups in a corner, behind a chair. Picking up one of them, he examined it. He realized the bottom of the stirrup matched the bruising on Doc’s neck. Whoever had forced the medicines down Doc’s throat had used a stirrup to subdue him. He imagined the killer had taken down the stirrup and used it deliberately. Was it because the killer didn’t want the shape and size of his fingers to show up on Doc’s neck? Maybe. Or maybe the stirrups held another significance.

  Sorrow once again swamped Jack. Doc had been a good man. He really had wanted to help others, to make his patients well. But being a doctor was a difficult job. Jack supposed there were many discoveries in the field of medicine yet to be made. And when people lost their loved ones, it was easy to blame the physician who’d tried to save them. It wasn’t fair, but many things in life weren’t. He felt sorry for Uma. She had told him how she’d decided to forgive Doc. But everything went sideways once she’d returned to Doc’s medicinal vardo to find him dead. And now she was in this mess. Jack swore to get her out of jail, even if he had to use underhanded methods to do so. Because he knew she wasn’t the killer.

  The next question was, who had stolen the horse brow band, and why. If he had to guess, the killer had stolen the brow band. If not the killer, then whoever stole it might have seen something or someone, namely the killer.

  As he left Doc’s caravan and headed back toward town, the sound of shouting caught Jack’s attention. He didn’t have to wonder who caused the ruckus. What was Marshal Spivey up to now?

  Uma watched as several Cryptians climbed up on the boardwalk, surrounding Spivey. Harvey flicked the brim of Spivey’s hat, causing it to fall of Spivey’s head and land on the boardwalk. Orchilo stomped on it. Somebody else bumped into Spivey, causing him to stumble. Somebody else pulled Spivey’s long, graying hair. Suddenly, Spivey removed his gun from its holster and held it high over his head. A shot exploded, the bullet lodging in the wooden awning above.

  Instead of scaring the people of Cryptic Cove, however, they moved in, giving Luther and Troy room to crowd up to Spivey. Luther grabbed him by the legs, while Troy latched onto the Marshal’s arms, keeping them high. Jack was suddenly there to pluck the Marshal’s gun out of his hand.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Sheriff?”

  “You are out of control. Drawing your weapon when there are women and children in the vicinity?” Jack asked, incredulous.

  “You mean, your town is out of control. Give me my weapon back. Now.”

  “Not until you settle down,” Jack replied, jamming the offending gun against his back, under his belt. “Marshal, get control of your anger.”

  Zada tugged on Jack’s shirt. “Sheriff Jack?”

  “Yes, Zada.”

  Something about Zada’s pale face and rounded eyes made Uma grip the bars of her cell.

  “I got something to tell you. Not that man with the red face, but you. Because it’s bad and I don’t want the Marshal to hear. He scares me.”

  Jack gave the Marshal a stern look, saying without words to stay put. Then he led Zada toward Uma where she was standing on the other side of the bars. He squatted down to be at the small girl’s level. “What is it, Zada?”

  Zada looked up at Uma and reached through the bars to hold her hand. Uma gave Zada’s fingers a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright, sweetie. Tell Jack what he has to know.”

  “I-I killed Doc Elroy.” She held up a derringer. “With this.”

  Thirteen

  “Zada, where did you get the gun?” Jack asked the question softly after he’d led her to a stool and had her sit. He kneeled down in front of her.

  On the other side of the Sheriff’s Office, Harvey was telling his tall tale to the Marshal again, this time embellishing his story by having Luther act as Doc Elroy, even going so far as to pretend to choke him. Luther fell to the floor, grabbed his own throat and pretended to gag. Marshal Spivey rolled his eyes at their antics and then buried his head in his arms, but not before he scratched his neck. The poison ivy rash had become raised and ugly.

  Zada sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I found it under Tawni’s vardo.”

  “And you say you pulled the trigger,” Jack said in a quiet tone.

  His calm when questioning the young girl seemed to spread to Zada. Love swept though Uma at the thought of his gentleness toward the child, who had been trembling like a bowl full of pudding.

  “Yes.” She blinked and took in a shuddering breath.

  “Why would you want to hurt Doc Elroy?”

  Zada bit her lower lip and looked down, shifting her feet. “Because he did something to Mama that Papa didn’t like. I heard Papa say Mama shamed him. But Mama said it was all the Doc’s fault. So I shot him. I don’t want him causing trouble between my parents. They fight enough without Doc Elroy getting in between them.”

  Rubbing his chin, Jack continued to sit on his haunches as he contemplated the little girl. “I thought your parents made up after your father punched Doc Elroy in the nose. After I broke up the fight.”

  Uma recalled how Orlando swept Rosia up in his arms and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle like little Zada should be doing right now. That Zada was acting more the adult than her parents were made Uma want to shake some sense into the mercurial-acting duo.

  Zada merely shrugged and then looked at her feet again. “Not for long.”

  “Give me the derringer, Zada.”

  Zada did, flipping the handle to him, and holding the weapon by the barrel. The way the little girl handled the gun made Uma wonder if the girl knew a lot more about guns than Uma had assumed. If so, how?

  “How do you know about guns, Zada?” Jack said, echoing Uma’s thoughts as he accepted the small pistol.

  “By watching Mama.” Zada shrugged. “Although she didn’t let me hold it. But she showed me how to clean it and load it and unload it. When I found the gun, I made sure it wasn’t loaded.”

  “That’s smart, Zada.” He double-checked the chamber, looking for the loaded bullets. The dainty firearm was empty from what Uma could see by looking over his arm. He sniffed the derringer, and then held the gun toward Uma, motioning for her to do the same. The acrid scent of gunpowder indicated that the weapon had been recently fired.

  Jack turned toward the seven-year-old. “Zada, will you show me how you shot Doc Elroy?” Zada’s eyes widened. “It’s alright. Like you said, there aren’t any bullets in it now.”

  “I just pointed it like this and squeezed.” Zada held the grip and pointed the barrel toward Jack.

  “Then what?”

  She shrugged. “Then the bullet came out and hit Doc Elroy.”

  “Where did the bullet hit him, sweetie?” Jack smiled encouragingly at the small child.

  “In his chest. Here.” She pointed to her own chest, close to her sternum.

  Wrong. Uma knew Doc hadn’t been shot in the sternum. The bandaging had been more in the vicinity of his shoulder. So Zada hadn’t actually shot the derringer. Inwardly, Uma sighed with relief. For a little girl Zada’s age, shooting somebody could be devastating to her emotionally, and could damage her journey toward adulthood.

  Zada was obviously lying, her attempt to protect her parents from what she thought they had done. Had Rosia shot Doc Elroy? Maybe. But Uma couldn’t see the woman forcing medicines down the Doc’s throat. She didn’t have the strength to do so. At least, that was Uma’s educated opinion. Unless Orlando either helped her hold Doc down, or Orlando did the deed alone.

  “The girl is just another false confessor,” the Marshal interrupted, obviously eavesdropping after Harvey and Luther finally left the office. “Fine example this crazy town is offering her. No wonder she’s being corrupted. Send her on her way, Sheriff. Besides, the Doc didn’t die from getting shot.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Jack said softly.
“Mind your own business. Don’t you have more Cryptians to interview?”

  The Marshal scowled. “They’re just spouting a bunch of nonsense, trying to confuse me.”

  “Which shouldn’t be difficult,” Uma muttered.

  Jack’s lips curved slightly but then he pressed them together and gave the Marshal an icy glare. “You’re the one who wanted to take over. So deal with it.”

  Uma supposed Jack had hit his limit with the man. Even Spivey shrunk away by taking a step back from Jack’s blast of coldness.

  “My turn to confess,” the burly blacksmith declared, pounding his fist on the desk.

  Spivey jumped at the sound, and reached for his revolver, something he didn’t have now that Jack had confiscated it. He turned to look at Jack, opening his mouth to ask the obvious.

  “You’ll get your Colt back once you’re through with the confessions and things settle down,” Jack told him in a no-nonsense tone. “Not before. And if you’re going to complain to your superiors be sure to tell them you were shooting with a crowd full of women and children nearby. It just might be enough to get your badge taken away.”

  Spivey’s jaw closed with a click of his teeth. Then he returned his attention to the crowd that had followed the blacksmith inside. “One at a time. Just this man.” He indicated the burly metal-maker. “Everybody else, get out until I call for the next person.”

  Grumbling, the others, including Orchilo, complied, to Uma’s astonishment.

  “Zada, why don’t you pick out one of Sheriff Jack’s western dime novels and read it for a while?”

  “Alright, Miss Uma,” Zada replied meekly and reached for the nearest book.

  Then Uma motioned for Jack to come closer to the bars of her cage. He rose from his haunches and stepped toward Uma, reaching through the bars to caress her waist and pull her closer.

  “How are you doing?” he murmured as he stroked her back up and down.

  The tightness around her heart loosened as he did so, making her imprisonment more bearable. If it wasn’t for Jack and his presence, she didn’t know what she would do. The fact that he slept with her last night and the night before, ever since she’d been locked up, bolstered her spirits for the following day.

  She cupped her hand around her mouth, indicating she wanted him to lean close so she could whisper in his ear. “From your questioning of Zada, you obviously found out more. What did Catalina discover from her medical examination?”

  Jack braced his palm around his mouth to whisper in the same manner. “As you know, Doc was shot. The top of his shoulder was grazed by a bullet.”

  “I remember seeing the blood and the bandages,” she said, her tone somber. “And I knew he was shot in the shoulder, just not how badly. So he wasn’t shot in the sternum like Zada said,” Uma replied, glad to get confirmation from Jack. “Thank God.” She didn’t want Zada to participate in such a violent act.

  “Right,” Jack said, pulling on his earlobe as he obviously lost himself in thought for a few moments. Even so, he kept one arm through the bars so he could wrap it around Uma. “It’s my belief that the gunshot wound happened before the poisoning, and by somebody else.”

  “Because it doesn’t make sense for the same person to first shoot him and then force him to drink his medicines,” Uma agreed with a nod.

  “My thoughts precisely,” Jack murmured. “Too, Catalina discovered the medicines he was forced to drink wasn’t just his own concoctions. Two of the bottles of the elixirs had cyanide mixed in with them. Whoever poisoned Doc Elroy added cyanide to the last two bottles because none of the other concoctions had cyanide mixed with morphine.”

  “I thought I’d smelled it.” The presence of cyanide wasn’t a surprise to her. Remembering the almond-like scent when she’d stood over the Doc’s body, she’d already determined that was the real reason for his death. Copious amounts of morphine would have eventually killed Doc. But the killer must have been in a hurry.

  She supposed cyanide was in Doc’s medical supplies because the drug was used for severe lung and heart problems, and should only be administered in very tiny quantities. Too, it had to be delivered in its pure form, mixed with potassium. That Doc used the stuff to medicate his patients was another matter, one she would never be able to question him on.

  “Zada obviously believes either her mother or her father shot the Doc.”

  “Yes,” Jack agreed. “Will you take care of her while I visit with her parents? See what I can find out?”

  “Of course,” Uma replied, and decided to go one step further. After all, she was still an educator. She had been hired to do a job and she swore to keep doing it. “But will you ask Rush to round up as many of the other children that he can find and have them come here?”

  Jack tilted his head as he gripped her waist to hold her against the bars. “What are you planning?”

  “I think it best that I make Zada’s day as normal as possible.” She looked at the sweet girl who had her head down as she stared at the western dime novel. The book was open, but she hadn’t turned the page. Which meant she was obviously not engaged. Uma guessed the little girl was still worried about her parents and their possible involvement in Doc Elroy’s demise.

  Uma’s heart went out to the child. “I want to get her mind off of her parents’ theatrics and whatever they did or whatever she thinks they did that makes her want to protect them. When I get out of this jail cell, I’m going to instruct Rosia and Orlando on how to be good parents, and how to create a safe, loving, warm home for their daughter. But in the meantime I’m going to hold class now and every day. I will make class as fun and as rowdy as I can. And in the process, irritate the living hell out of the Marshal.”

  Jack smirked, laughter twinkling in his amazing, ocean-blue eyes. “Of course you are. I’m rooting for you.”

  Fourteen

  “Miss Uma, really. Why are you in a cage?” asked seven-year-old Tawni Yanoro.

  Facing Uma’s jail cell, Tawni and five other students sat in the Sheriff’s Office on individual rag rug squares on the floor— woven pieces of cloth that they’d brought from the schoolhouse. Tawni tilted her head to the side as she studied Uma, who sat in her jail cell. Rush and Jack had rounded up the children to sit in an impromptu class with Zada. Now six young faces — some older, most younger — sat with their slates in hand.

  “She put Doc Elroy six feet under,” twelve-year-old Devlin Navarra answered for Uma, and held up his skateboard, where he’d drawn a horizontal stick figure under lines that must represent dirt. One tree and the sun completed the picture. Fourteen-year old Nelson reached over and slapped his brother on the back of his head.

  Tawni’s eyes widened as she stared at Devlin’s chalk-drawn picture. “You mean she dug a hole and tossed him in? Put dirt over him?”

  “Naw, Devlin is saying Miss Uma killed Doc Elroy, at least, that’s what the Marshal thinks,” Nelson interrupted, giving Spivey an eye-roll. “Me? I don’t believe it.”

  “You’re just a kid, easily swayed by your pretty teacher,” Spivey intervened from his seat at his desk.

  “You are not to participate, Marshal,” Uma admonished. “You agreed with Jack that you would allow me to hold class as I deem fit and not interfere, since you won’t allow me to leave this jail cell to do my duty.”

  Spivey harrumphed before he leaned back and plopped his hat over his face.

  Catalina’s sons were smart and Uma loved discovering their thought processes, especially Nelson’s. “Nelson, why don’t you believe I killed Doc Elroy?”

  “Because. You wouldn’t force someone to drink poison,” he replied in a derogatory tone. “That’s not your style. You might use jujutsu to defend yourself or help somebody who is being unjustly beaten.” Nelson shook his head emphatically. “No, if you wanted to hurt somebody, you wouldn’t do it physically.”

  From where Uma sat in the high-backed chair, she looked through the bars at Nelson, fascinated. “I wouldn’t?”

 
“Nope,” Nelson replied with the certainty of youth. “You wouldn’t be crass like that. Instead, you would use words because you’re so good with them. And the way you use them, they’re more powerful than physically hurting someone. Yesterday, by the time you got through scolding Doc Elroy, he was desperate to make amends with you. And change his ways. You couldn’t have influenced his thinking with fists, or, at least, not willingly. He was sorry for not studying medicine and, therefore, causing your stepsister to die. And I heard that when you were like eight or nine-years-old you got the governor to run Doc Elroy out of town. Yup, your words are powerful.”

  Hmm. Nelson was pretty intuitive.

  “Did you bite somebody?” seven-year-old Tawni asked, obviously still stuck on the idea that Uma did something bad that put her in jail. “Is that why you’re in a cage? That’s what Mama had to do when Ziggie bit Doc’s Sidekick.”

  “Who?” Uma knew Ziggie was Tawni’s Yorkshire terrier.

  Tawni shrugged. “Doc’s Sidekick. I don’t know his name. That’s what Mama calls him.”

  Devlin scoffed at Tawni, leaning over to pull one of her pigtails. “Miss Uma is not a dog.”

  Tawni huffed and put her hands on her small hips. “Then why is she in a cage?”

  With a scoff, Devlin held up another drawing he’d sketched on his slate. On it, he had four stick figures. He’d written names above the figures. “It’s not a cage. It’s a jail cell. For people.” He pointed to the three drawings behind bars. “That’s Harvey. He’s the drunk who gets locked up a lot because Sheriff Jack can’t let him sleep in the street, so he puts Harvey in jail to sleep it off.” He pointed to the next stick drawing. “That’s Creed. He was locked up the day before yesterday for punching out Chuck Egan Kincaid. But he got released early because Sheriff Jack wanted privacy with his wife.”

  Did the whole town know that Jack was sleeping with her in the jail? Obviously. Uma resisted the urge to squirm.