“Maybe you shouldn’t have left to begin with,” one of the others replied.
“Come on. I wasn’t ready for the responsibility back then.”
“Tell us the truth, Clyde. Why do you really want to go through with this?”
“I told you. To do the right thing.”
“I don’t know,” another man spoke up. “Maybe you should give up.”
“Are you kidding? I have to get my boy.”
The waitress returned with a plate full of pork chops, a baked potato and beans. “Here you go, you adorable thing you. How old are you, son?”
Owen debated whether or not to answer her. After all, that didn’t seem to be any of her business, but since she was in charge of his food, he figured he better oblige her. “Twenty-four.” He picked up the cup and took a drink of the hot liquid.
“Ooh! You know, I have a daughter who just turned nineteen. Why, you two would make such a fine looking couple, and you know, she can’t resist a southern gentleman.”
He nearly spit out the coffee he was drinking.
“Too bad she doesn’t like bearded men.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”
He touched his beard. Maybe he should keep it on. He didn’t exactly relish the prospect of women trying to fix him up with their daughters, especially women who thought he was ‘adorable’. Adorable was for puppies and kittens, not grown men.
The men in the table next to him got up, threw some money on the table, and left the restaurant.
Owen watched them through the window as they walked down the street, laughing like a bunch of idiots. He didn’t know the specifics of what Clyde wanted with the woman they talked about, but he felt sorry for her. He hoped she didn’t give into him on whatever it was he planned for October 1st. Forcing aside the thought, he ate his meal.
After he paid the bill, he pulled up the pants by the belt loops and held onto them as he meandered down the boardwalk, wondering if he should make a home here in Omaha. The town looked like it was thriving. It was so different from Louisiana. The air wasn’t as humid, and he felt a chill that he usually didn’t experience until December. Did they get snow this far up north? He shrugged, supposing he’d find out if he stuck around.
Several people cast odd looks in his direction, and a couple of women giggled as they scurried by him. He sighed. First things first; he’d go ahead and get that shave and haircut and then get new clothes. Then he could decide on whether or not to make this his new home.
He found the barber shop and got the shave and cut. His blond hair no longer fell over his eyes, which was a good thing. At least he could see clearly. He rubbed his jaw. Now that the itchy beard was gone, he kind of missed it. For some reason, he felt naked without it. But he knew that sensation would pass.
As he searched the businesses lining the street, he caught sight of a Wanted: Dead or Alive poster. He halted in mid-step, causing someone to bump into him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled to the man and stepped forward so he was out of other people’s way.
He studied the poster. Alright. So maybe the shave was a big mistake. He tried to determine if the drawing looked enough like him for someone to recognize him. His name was right there for the world to see. “Owen Russell” was under the drawing of his face in bold letters. Under his name was written “Wanted for Murder”. The queasy feeling in his stomach threatened to upset his lunch. Wow. This really wasn’t good. How had word spread about him anyway?
He lowered the hat over his eyes and hastened down the boardwalk, hoping no one realized that the man in the Wanted poster was him. Yes, he had murdered Mitch, but it had been to defend himself. How did the sheriff in this town know about that anyway? Big Roy. He must have sent his cronies out to spread the word about me. It made sense. Since they couldn’t get him, they figured they’d frame him.
Great. If the sheriff in this town knew Owen was a wanted man, then chances were good that no matter where he went, he’d run into other sheriffs who knew the same thing. Except if he ended up in a small town. He quickly pulled out some of the change from his pocket. Did he have enough to get to the end of the world? That might be far enough.
“Now, hold it right there,” someone said from behind him.
He gasped and raised his hands, dropping the coins which rolled on the boardwalk and settled several feet away from him. He’d been found! This was it. He knew what happened to men accused of murder. They were hanged. God, I’m too young to die!
The man chuckled. “Very funny, Irving. You can put your hands down.”
He reluctantly turned around and winced at the older man who had graying hair and a gun in his holster. The sunlight bounced off his shiny sheriff badge, as if mocking him. He lowered his hands, but only slightly.
The man frowned and took a step closer, his badge still flashing in the sunlight. “You look familiar. Have I seen you before?”
Owen’s eyes darted to the Wanted poster that was not even five feet from them. Did that drawing look just like him? He decided to hedge his bets. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Hmm...” The man closed the gap between them and took off his hat.
“Hey!”
The man held up his hand to shush him. He inspected the inside of the hat and a big grin crossed his face. “Irving Spencer. It is you! Your ma said that you always put this design on your hat.” He pointed to the deputy badge that had been stitched into the front of the hat.
Owen nearly fainted with relief. Thank goodness! The sheriff thought he was someone else. Well, that was easy enough. He’d play along and then get the heck out of town. He laughed and pulled up his pants which had slipped to his hips. “You caught me. I’m Irving.”
“I haven’t seen your ma since we were kids. Had it not been for your hat, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said hi.”
He turned to run off but the sheriff grabbed his arm. “Do I look like a fool?”
Owen swallowed the lump in his throat. “No, sir.”
“Then why are you playing me for one?”
Alright. So the sheriff knew he had lied about being Irving. “I can explain. You see, I have this aunt--”
“Right. My ma. We’re cousins, and your ma assured me that you were the best deputy back in the Carolinas.”
“The...the Carolinas? Your aunt? My aunt? Our mothers?” Now he didn’t know what was going on. Was this good or bad or what?
“I’m glad you finally got here, Irving. We sure do need a good deputy around here who can do his job. I had to let the last one go because he hit the bottle too many times.” He put his arm around Owen’s shoulders and walked with him down the boardwalk. “I have to admit that I expected you to be taller though. You look weak. Didn’t that mother of yours feed you anything?” Before Owen could answer, he laughed and patted him on the back. “Must be all that running you do after the riffraff. Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you set up soon enough and you’ll have a woman who’ll cook all your meals for you.”
Owen wanted to ask what he was talking about but the sheriff stopped.
“The first thing we need is to get you into clothes that fit. You can’t be fighting the law in clothes that are ready to fall off of you.”
“Fighting law?” he dumbly asked.
“Oh, Irving. You’re such a kidder. Come on in.”
Owen slowly entered the store where a thin man worked on setting up the belt display by the window.
“Hi there, Ernie! This here is my cousin, Irving Spencer. He finally arrived.” The sheriff turned to Owen. “I got to admit, we were starting to fear you weren’t going to show.”
“We?” Owen asked.
Ernie laughed and motioned to Owen. “What a hoot! The poor boy needs clothes alright. And fast.”
“That’s my thinking on it as well,” the sheriff agreed. “We’ll start him up with two pairs of pants, four shirts, two belts, your best pair of boots, and a better hat than this
one.” He tossed the hat in the trash can. Looking at Owen, he said, “No offense, son, but you have to have a hat that fits right on your head.”
“You know, Meyer, I have to admit that your kin looks younger than I thought he’d be.”
Sheriff Meyer looked Owen up and down. “I thought you’d be older too. Just how old are you anyway?”
“Uh...” Did Owen dare tell the truth? How much could he afford to play into this game before he could slip out and escape town? Finally, he decided that he couldn’t tell too many lies. Besides, would it matter once he hopped another train to get out of here? “Twenty-four.”
“I don’t know why I thought you were in your thirties.” The sheriff shrugged. “No matter. We’ll get you settled in and then you can start your job.”
“My...my job?” Owen wiped his forehead and stared at the moisture on his hand. Man, was he ever breaking into a sweat! This was worse than sitting in that godforsaken saloon. But not as bad as being chased by Mitch and Lance. Still, there was that Wanted poster outside. He gulped the nervous lump in his throat. The sooner he got out of town, the better off he’d be.
The sheriff laughed. “You’re my deputy.” He patted Owen on the back, nearly knocking him over. “Boy, you need to get some meat on those bones. I don’t know why I thought you were built like a brick wall. Apparently, your ma exaggerated some things about you in her last letter.”
Owen grinned and shrugged. What else could he do? For all he knew, Irving was a tough man. Then he remembered the man who owned the clothes he was now wearing. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Was that Irving? The man was like a mighty oak!
“Anyway,” Meyer continued, waving in Ernie’s direction, “go get measured and we’ll get you set up. I’m going to get some people together and we can get the ball rolling on things.”
“Things?” Owen asked, his mind taken off of the large man in the forest. “What things?”
The sheriff left without answering.
He groaned. He needed to get out of here! As he made his way to the door, Ernie stopped him. “Not yet, Mr. Spencer. We have to get you in decent clothes first. Now, if you’ll follow me over to the mirrors, we’ll get started.”
Owen glanced at the door, biting his lower lip. Well, he might as well get a good set of clothes. Then he wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. He checked the change in his pocket. At least he wouldn’t have to rip off poor Ernie. “Alright,” he finally consented and followed the man to the back of the store.
Chapter Four
Jenny stared at the calendar on the wall in the parlor. It was September 29th and Irving hadn’t arrived in town yet. She glanced at Jeremy who played jacks with Sally’s son, six-year-old Greg. One-year-old Isaac sat in the corner of the room and chewed on a stuffed toy. Jenny looked over at her sister who didn’t say anything, which was unusual for her. Then her gaze shifted to Mary, her sister-in-law, who was the mother of Isaac. She usually enjoyed her time together with her two closest friends. But she couldn’t today.
“Irving did say he’d be here before October 1st in that letter, didn’t he?” Mary asked, as if she could read her mind.
Jenny exhaled and rubbed her temples, willing her headache to ease. “That’s what he said.”
“He does have tomorrow to show up.” Mary’s voice drifted off.
The silence hung heavy in the room. What could any of them say? Irving probably wasn’t coming.
Jenny took a deep breath and clenched her hands together. “Maybe I should marry Clyde.”
Sally gasped. “Don’t you dare!”
“But I can’t fight him forever.” Besides, maybe she was being selfish in keeping Jeremy away from his father.
“We’ll get our brothers to chase Clyde out of town,” Sally insisted, banging her hand on the arm of her chair. “It worked before, and it’ll work again.”
“Dave’s ready to go after him. Tom and Joel are too,” Mary added.
“And don’t forget Richard. Why I think even my husband will have a go at that no good...”—Sally shook her head, obviously biting back the word she really wanted to use—“that no good man!”
“Clyde has his brothers with him this time,” Jenny argued. “And he’s not trying to avoid being a father.”
Sally huffed. “Well, we got more brothers than he does.”
Greg and Jeremy laughed as the rubber ball bounced across the floor. Greg ran after it and brought it back to the set of jacks lying on the floor.
Jenny wiped her eyes. How she wished that Clyde would stay away, but he wouldn’t and she was tired.
The excited knocking at the door startled her.
“I’ll get it,” Mary said as she stood up.
“It’s not October yet,” Sally whispered. “Keep praying, Jenny. Don’t give up hope.”
“I’ve got good news!” a male voice called out.
Jenny turned her attention to the sheriff who looked like he was ready to throw his hat up in the air and shout for joy. Her pulse sped up and she jumped from her seat so she could run over to him. “Is Irving here?” Please say yes!
“Just came in off the train,” he replied with a big smile and a nod.
Sally and Mary hugged her, but she was too busy asking the sheriff to repeat himself to pay attention to them.
“He came just in the nick of time,” Sheriff Meyer assured her. “He’s getting ready for the wedding as we speak.”
“Oh, you should put on your best dress,” Sally squealed. “I love weddings!”
“I’ll watch the children while you get ready,” Mary said, grinning. “You two go on upstairs.”
“I’ll go tell the judge to get ready with the vows,” the sheriff responded.
“Make sure to get Judge Johnson,” Sally stated.
Jenny rolled her eyes. “I don’t care if your husband does the wedding or not. I just want to get married.” She turned to the sheriff. “Whoever is available will be fine.”
She watched in part amusement and part frustration as Sally mouthed the words Judge Johnson to the lawman. Then her sister ushered her up the stairs.
***
Owen studied his reflection in the mirror. The dark blue pants, crisp white shirt, and dark blue vest was nice, but he wondered why Ernie felt the need to give him a suit when a pair of denims and shirt would have done just fine.
Ernie patted him on the shoulder. “You look dapper, Mr. Spencer. Why, I hardly believe you’re the same man who came into my store!”
“I can’t believe it either.” Owen touched his chest. Yes, it was him alright, but he’d never worn a suit in his entire life. It just didn’t look like him.
“Here’s your suit jacket.”
“Wow. This must be expensive.” He touched the fabric before he slipped it on.
“Don’t worry about it. The sheriff’s paying.”
“What?” Owen stopped fastening the buttons and shook his head. “No. I can’t let him do that.”
“Why not? He’s your kin...and your boss.”
“But...I don’t really know him.” At least that much was true.
“Naturally. But it’s your special day and he wants it to be that way.”
A special day? All Irving Spencer had to do was show up in town and it was ‘a special day’? Owen shook his head. Irving must be an important man.
“Alright. I have your measurements down, so I’ll get started on your other clothes. I’ll have them delivered to your new residence by tomorrow afternoon.”
“My new residence? You mean the sheriff’s house?”
Ernie threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Irving. Meyer didn’t tell me you had a sense of humor.”
Owen watched, bewildered, as the man went into the backroom. He took that as his cue to leave. He quickly dug out a coin that he figured would cover the cost of the suit and threw it on the counter by the cash register. Then he retrieved Irving’s hat from the trash can and put it on his head. So it didn’t match. Who cared? He just had to get
out of town before the sheriff realized the truth.
Just as he opened the door, the sheriff stood right in front of him, and he jerked back. He tumbled and fell back against the shirt display which came crashing on top of him as he landed on the floor.
“What’s going on?” Ernie yelled as he came running from the backroom.
The sheriff laughed. “Looks like I scared poor Irving. I was ready to come in when he opened the door.” He turned to Owen and stretched his hand out to him. “I guess the groom is anxious to see his bride.”
Owen’s jaw dropped. What?
The sheriff leaned forward and practically picked Owen up and set him on his feet. He sighed. “You can’t wear that hat anymore. It doesn’t fit you right. Here.” He grabbed another hat from the wall, took off the one Owen was wearing, and plopped the new one on Owen’s head. “Much better.”
“I’ll get the shirts on the floor,” Ernie told Owen. “Go on ahead.”
“Yep. We don’t want to keep that bride of yours waiting. She’s real anxious to see you,” the sheriff said. “Ernie, send me the bill.”
“Will do.”
The sheriff wrapped his arm around Owen’s shoulders, forcing Owen out of the store.
“Irving’s getting married?” Owen asked dumbly.
“You know, you’re a breath of fresh air, son. I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally have a deputy who has a sense of humor.”
A breath of fresh air? A sense of humor? Owen gulped the lump in his throat as he struggled to keep up with the older man’s fast pace on the boardwalk. He caught sight of the train station and wondered if he could create a diversion so he could get there.
“I tell you, you had us mighty worried,” Meyer continued. “Especially Jenny. She’s been fretting something awful. I can’t tell you how much it means to her that you’re doing this.”
“This? You mean the...” Oh goodness. Dare he actually say it? “Wedding?”
“What else?”
He glanced at the train as it pulled into the station. Oh, this was bad. Really bad. He had to get out of here! He couldn’t marry someone else’s woman. He licked his dry lips and cleared his throat. “You know, I...I need to...to...” To do what? Think, Owen. Think!
Wrong Husband Page 3
