by Kit Morgan
Mrs. Davis raised her chin in indignation. “My daughter is not some pickaninny to be ordered about!”
Marshal Pheebs looked Charlotte up and down. “No, I should say not.”
Mrs. Davis’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Come along Charlotte, this oaf can get his own food!” She grabbed Charlotte by the arm and stormed out of the Sheriff’s office. Clayton grabbed Summer and stormed out after them to leave Spencer standing there, his face set in firm resolve as Marshal Pheebs glared determinedly back.
Spencer had made up his mind. The only way that Marshal was going to take Elle out of Nowhere was over his dead body.
Fourteen
“Clayton, there’s something funny going on with that Marshal,” Summer said as he pulled her along beside him. “The timing doesn’t seem right.”
“That’s not all that isn’t right!” Mrs. Davis spat.
Clayton and Summer both turned to her. She stared at them in indignation (her usual look of late) and put one hand on her hip. “That man speaks very poorly for a southern gentleman. Texas my foot!”
“What are you talking about?” Clayton asked, his brow furrowed in frustration.
“No gentleman from Texas or New Orleans would have such abhorrent manners or bad speech. In fact, you can tell where he’s from by the way he talks!”
“Mother, what are you saying?” Charlotte asked, speaking up for the first time.
“Now Charlotte, you know I hail from the South and there are some things that just aren’t done!”
“Are you saying you think he’s not from where he says he is?” Clayton asked.
“I don’t know where he’s from, I can’t tell. He talked one-way one minute, then another the next. He couldn’t even insult me properly!”
“Mrs. Davis,” Summer began. “What do you mean?”
“’Be like the lady who fell off the wagon’, it means keep your nose out of it. But he said it all wrong!”
“Are you saying he’s not from New Orleans?” Clayton asked.
“I don’t know where he’s from, but he is not acting like any sort of southern gentleman. Even the rough ones have better manners than he does!”
Clayton looked to Summer. “His accent did sound odd.”
“If he didn’t travel from New Orleans then his turning up so suddenly would make sense.”
“Someone could have wired ahead and let a Marshall know about the murders and the arrest to be made,” Clayton mused.
“Clayton,” Charlotte began. “How can we help?”
Clayton and Summer both stared at her. Was Charlotte serious? Mrs. Davis had just unknowingly helped them but only because she was complaining, not out to solve a mystery. Charlotte on the other hand looked like she genuinely wanted to help.
“Go back to the jail and keep Elle company while we get a message to my uncle in Clear Creek. We’ve got to stall that Marshall and keep him here for as long as possible.”
“Charlotte will do no such thing!” Mrs. Davis said in shock. “You can just march right back to that church and tell your father we’re going home!”
“Oh mother,” Charlotte began. “Can’t you see how serious this is? Do you really want that Marshal back there to haul Miss Barstow off so he can hang her?”
Mrs. Davis’s jaw tightened as she sucked in a breath through her nose. “Charlotte! You get back to the church this instant!”
“What if it were me, or Abbey in the same predicament?”
“It is not you or Abbey, is it? I’ll not have you wrapped up with some cold blooded killer!”
“Elle Barstow is no more a cold blooded killer than you are a … a… soiled dove!”
Mrs. Davis’s face turned white. “I’ll deal with you at home, young lady!” She spun on her heel and stomped back the way they came, passing Mrs. Riley and the Quinns as she did.
“Oh dear, what’s happening?” Mrs. Riley said. “We stopped at the Sheriff’s office but Spencer said to join you at the telegraph office. And who is that awful man with Spencer? Where’s Elle?”
“Elle is in a jail cell, ma.” Clayton told her. She gasped as did Mrs. Quinn before he continued. “I’m going to wire Uncle Harlan. That Marshal might not be who he says he is but we can’t be sure. We’ll have to keep him here until we find out.”
“Oh Clayton, what if he’s not a real Marshal?” His mother asked.
“Then Spencer will finally be able to make his first arrest.”
* * *
Elle paced back and forth in her cell as Spencer leaned against the bars. “You’re a beautiful bride,” he suddenly said.
She stopped and looked at him. His face was steady, his emotions calmed. He’d been like a rock ever since his mother and the others left. In fact as far as she knew, they didn’t even know she’d been locked up. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”
“Stop that talking!” Marshal Pheebs yelled. “Sheriff, leave the prisoner alone and get on up here!”
Elle watched as Spencer’s jaw clenched. “I’ll be close by,” he whispered to her.
She smiled and nodded then watched him go up the short hall to the office. The Marshal went to the door of the cell area, glared at her then slammed the door shut.
So, here she was alone in a cold jail cell on her wedding day facing a charge of murder. She supposed there were worse things, but at the moment couldn’t think of one. Elle turned and looked at the cot, sat, then wrapped the one blanket it had around her to keep the chill away. She sat there what seemed a good long while and stared at the floor as she listened for anything that might be happening up front. Unfortunately, she could hear nothing.
What was she to do? Oh Lord, if ever there was a time I needed Your help it’s now!
The door to the cell area suddenly opened, pulling her from her prayer. Charlotte Davis stepped through the door, a basket in her hand. Elle glanced at the ceiling overhead and mumbled, “I thought I asked for help.”
“I brought you something to eat. You must be half starved by now.” Charlotte told her.
The Marshal once again slammed the door shut making Charlotte jump. She let out a small yelp then quickly made her way to the cell. “Mother’s right, that’s a very rude man.” She pulled a linen napkin back to reveal several sandwiches. “Here, have one. Hank made them.”
Elle got up from the cot and went to the bars. She could hardly think of food at a time like this but hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She reached through the bars and grabbed a sandwich out of the basket.
Charlotte looked to the door behind her than to Elle. “Clayton has his suspicions that this Marshal isn’t who he said he is. He sent me to keep you company while he and Spencer find out.”
“Where’s Spencer then?” Elle asked alarmed. The thought of being left alone with that awful man in the next room sent a chill up her spine.
“He went to speak with Clayton over at the telegraph office. They had to get someone to open it up so they could send a message to their uncle the Sheriff in Clear Creek. Clayton says he knows about every Marshal in these parts and then some. If he’s from somewhere nearby, then their uncle will have heard of him.”
“Nearby? Of course! No one could have come after me that fast! For one, how would any one even know where I am? Except Mrs. Ridgley of course.”
“Who is Mrs. Ridgley?” asked Charlotte.
“She runs the Ridgley Mail Order Bride Service. Only she knew where I was going. She and Jethro that is, but Jethro’s …” Elle turned from her, unable to speak.
“I don’t believe you did anything.” Charlotte blurted stubbornly. “It’s not in you.”
Elle spun to her. “How would you know? You don’t know me, Charlotte. No one here really does. How long before Spencer and his family begin to doubt me?” she said the last part more to herself than to Charlotte.
“I don’t know you, but I know me, and someone like me doesn’t treat others with the kindness you’ve shown and expect to get nothing out of it.”
Elle tur
ned to her again. “What do you mean?”
“Take it from someone who always has a motive behind everything she does. You could have let me walk home from the mercantile that day and freeze half to death, but you didn’t. I’d have deserved it too for some of the things I’ve said to Summer… and to you,” Charlotte told her then hung her head. “But I would never wish any real harm to come to either one of you.” She raised her head and looked at Elle. “Not like that man out there. I don’t trust him and neither does Clayton.”
A tear came to Elle’s eye. “Thank you Charlotte. That means a lot to me.”
“You’d better eat something. Who knows how long we’ll be in here.”
The door suddenly swung open and Marshal Pheebs stepped into the hall. “Not long at all, my dears. Not long at all.”
* * *
Clayton and Spencer were intent upon Mr. Stephens the telegraph operator. They found him at Hanks having a late lunch along with quite a few of Nowhere’s residents as they waited for the wedding, or in this case any wedding that was to get underway sometime in the next hour.
Albert Stephens looked up at them when he finally finished sending the message. “That about does it. One message to Clear Creek, another to New Orleans. I hope this helps. Is there anything else I can do for you Sheriff?”
“No, Albert. You’ve been very helpful. Thank you. Now all we can do is wait for a reply.”
“It being Sunday, I ain’t sure if Clear Creek’s telegraph office is open. Most of these here small towns have their offices closed today. New Orleans is another matter. I’m sure they’re open.”
“You did mark the message urgent, right?” Clayton asked.
“Yes sir, I did.”
“Good. Now all we have to worry about is keeping that Marshal busy until we hear from either Uncle Harlan or Mrs. Ridgley. Surely she must know what’s going on!” Spencer said.
“I’m sure she does as it was her man that …” Clayton suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute. Didn’t Elle tell us that Mrs. Ridgley’s man was alive when she left him and that she didn’t know if the man shot was dead?”
“Yes, why?” Spencer asked.
“Think about it. Elle said she heard men coming, and that Mrs. Ridgley’s man Jethro told her to run. Those men never saw her. If you were Jethro, would you tell them anything if you thought they wished her harm?”
“Of course not,” Spencer said then caught on. “And the other man, the one shot was in no shape to say anything, not if he was still alive. He might have been half bled out by the time the others got there and in no shape to talk. So if Jethro is supposed to be dead, then how would they know where to find Elle? How could they discover he worked for Mrs. Ridgley so quickly?”
“Unless they already knew …” Clayton finished for him.
“That Marshal is definitely not from New Orleans.” Spencer said.
“I doubt he’s a Marshal at all.”
“That would explain why he’s in such an all fire hurry to get out of here. Where do you suppose he got his hands on a U.S. Marshal’s badge?”
Clayton paled. “When did we send Red Ned and that other fella, Sam Cooke, that’s his name, when did Marshal Leigh haul them out of here?”
“Monday, remember? That’s what had me so busy and unable to spend much time with Elle after she first arrived.” Spencer looked to Clayton, his face now just as pale. “Oh no, you don’t think…”
“It’s exactly what I think, this Pheebs, or what ever his name is, ambushed Marshal Leigh, took his badge and showed up here to take Elle.”
“But who would want her so badly? I don’t understand.” Spencer said.
“I do.”
Both brothers looked to Summer who stood near the pot-bellied stove to keep warm. She stared back at them, her face void of emotion. “Remember when I told you about Mr. Slade? If anyone’s behind this he is.”
Clayton went to her. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I’ve seen him. Seen how mad he got when Mrs. Ridgley refused to let him know anything about me. He wanted me for his … his business. She protected me and got me out of New Orleans as fast as she could. I remember how angry he was when Mrs. Ridgley refused to cooperate with him.”
“That does it!” Spencer said as he spun on his heel. “Elle’s not spending one more minute in that cell! I don’t care who that man is, he’s the one I’m locking up!”
“Spencer wait, I’m coming with you!” Clayton said then quickly turned to Summer. “Head on over to the mercantile and stay with the Quinns and ma until I come for you.”
“Clayton, be careful. If he’s one of Mr. Slade’s men then he’s dangerous.”
“At this point I don’t much care who he is, all I know is who he isn’t.”
They left her and stormed out of the telegraph office to confront the so-called Marshal Pheebs, both determined to settle the matter as soon as possible.
Spencer wasn’t about to let anyone, let alone some phony Marshal, delay his wedding any longer!
* * *
“You’re not a real Marshal, are you?” Elle stated rather than asked as Pheebs shackled her in the back of the prison wagon.
“Why what ever gave you that idea?” he drawled.
“She has nothing to do with this, let her go.” Elle said through clenched teeth.
Pheebs glanced to Charlotte, already shackled and gagged. “You’re the prize. She’s a bonus.”
“Who sent you? If it was that Mr. Slade you’ll never get us all the way back to New Orleans! Spencer will hunt you down and…”
Pheebs gagged her before she could finish. “We’re not going to New Orleans. We’re only going … well, never mind where we’re going, you’ll both make a fine addition to my establishment. And if you must know, it was my brother that informed me of you. He may work with Slade, but he’s not as stupid. Slade wanted me to kill you, but you know the old saying, waste not?”
Elle wanted to give him what for, but her words were cut off and nothing but mumbled gibberish came out.
He laughed. “Oh, I’ll be sure to break that spirit once we get to where we’re going. My brother said you were a beauty, and he was right.” He backed out of the wagon, shut the door and locked it. Elle listened and cringed as he climbed up onto the wagon seat, slapped the horses with the reins and felt the wagon lurch forward.
Good God! What was happening? What did he mean Mr. Slade wanted her killed? And what about all this talk of being a fine addition to the man’s establishment? What establishment? Who was this man?
Elle’s eyes suddenly grew wide. She glanced to Charlotte who sat, her own eyes filled with tears as the wagon sped out of town.
The man looked familiar. Pheebs, or what ever his real name was, Elle was sure she’d seen him before. But where?
Elle pulled on the chain that was attached to a large metal ring bolted into the sturdy wagon bed. The prison wagon was like a cell on wheels, built to hold strong men and keep them from escaping. How much more so two helpless women? Spencer was at the telegraph office waiting with Clayton for any word from Clear Creek. How long would they be there before they discovered Pheebs had taken off with them? The wagon continued to roll along at a fast pace. How long had they been gone already? Twenty, thirty minutes, an hour?
Oh Lord, I know I asked for help earlier, but now would be a real good time to send some!
A shot rang out, then another. Elle could hear Pheebs curse up a storm over the sound of the horses thundering hooves. Spencer! He’d come for her! It had to be him!
Another shot, this one much louder. Pheebs was firing back.
There was a sudden commotion outside the wagon. Elle couldn’t stand up to peek out the wagon’s barred window. The chain Pheebs used was too short to allow her to do so. More shots were fired, many of them from Pheeb’s gun from the sounds of it. Elle cringed when she heard a muffled grunt, then shouts from far away, but how could she tell? The noise from the galloping horses and rattling wagon was loud.
For all she knew the men chasing after them were extremely close. Elle hoped and prayed they were!
Sure enough, another shout came, this one aimed at the horses as “Whoa!” was yelled several times as a lone rider came up alongside the wagon. She felt her heart leap into her chest as the wagon slowed and finally came to a stop. Another horse galloped up and a rider dismounted. Whoever he was fumbled with the lock. “Elle!”
Spencer!
But Elle couldn’t cry out, nor could Charlotte gagged as they were. More riders could be heard coming toward the wagon as another shot rang out, this one to unlock the prison wagon itself. Spencer swung the door open. “Elle!” He went straight to her and pulled the gag out of her mouth. “Elle, are you all right?” He pulled her into his arms as best he could, then immediately looked to her shackled wrists attached to the short length of chain and the ring in the floor. “Oh boy,” Spencer breathed. “This could be a problem.”
“Spencer!” Elle began. “Charlotte…”
“Charlotte?” Spencer turned. He hadn’t even noticed her when he all but flew into the wagon to rescue Elle. “Good grief! Charlotte! What are you doing here?”
Charlotte sniffed back her tears then glared at him.
“Sorry! I didn’t see you there.” He scooted to where she sat in the corner and removed her gag.
“Spencer Riley!” She spat. “Didn’t you even notice I was gone too?”
“No, we thought you went to the mercantile to wait with the others.”
“Well I never! Unchain me at once!”
“Glad to see you’re no worse for wear, Charlotte.” Spencer said then smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay. None of us knew you went missing. I am sorry I didn’t see you there.”
Charlotte eyes began to fill with tears. “See to it I don’t go unnoticed anymore will you?”
“I promise you won’t,” he told her gently. “Now, we’ve got to figure out how to get you out of these.”
“Try using the key,” Charlotte huffed.
“Yes, just use the key,” Elle agreed.
