by Judith Pella
“Was it Potter, then?” said Matt.
Rusty laughed and said, “Nope.”
“I guess it was me,” said Carolyn sheepishly.
Matt laughed, too, until it made his head hurt and he stopped. “Well, I guess I ought to eat a mess of crow instead of these beans.”
Carolyn shrugged. “It just makes us even—well, not quite, you’re still one up on me. But I never did thank you for what you did this morning.”
In the frenzy of the stampede, they had all but forgotten about the intruder.
Matt shook his head sadly. He had been aware of the body during his sojourn in camp but wished he could forget it. “I wanted to wing him,” Matt felt he needed to explain. “But it was so plumb dark.”
“No one’s faulting you, lad,” said Caleb. “You saved my granddaughter’s life, and for that I’ll be in your debt.”
All heads turned to where the body of Carolyn’s assailant still lay. It was full daylight now, and the man’s face was clearly discernible to the small group that gathered around.
“Never seen him before,” said Matt. “How about you, Carolyn?”
Carolyn shook her head.
“You sure?” said Matt.
“Why would a complete stranger want to harm my granddaughter?” asked Caleb.
Instead of responding immediately, Matt stooped down close to the body. He paid particular attention to the two guns the man wore strapped to his sides. They were expensive, well-made weapons, nothing that a regular cowhand could hope to afford. Matt searched the dead man’s pockets and found a thick wad of cash.
“Must be two hundred dollars here,” said Matt, replacing the money. “And them guns ain’t your ordinary six-shooters.”
“Yeah,” added Rusty, “I ain’t seen nothing like them since that shootist I met once in Dodge City.”
Matt stood and faced Caleb and Carolyn. “I’d bet a month’s pay this fella is a hired gun. And I’ll bet he had a hand in that other ambush.”
“Ambush? Hired gun…what is this all about?” questioned Caleb sharply.
Carolyn looked down into her lap. She feared her next words could ignite a terrible explosion that she did not want to be responsible for. Yet why should she protect Laban? If he had really killed her father, then he deserved whatever might happen to him for all the suffering his actions had caused so many others.
She lifted a steady gaze toward her grandfather. “I think Laban is responsible for this attack on me, and for an attempted ambush several days ago. A couple of weeks ago, when I said I had fallen off my horse—well, the truth is that he struck me several times, Grandfather. He hates me almost as much as he hated my father.”
“He struck you?”
“Yes.”
“I will kill him for that.”
“Grandfather, no!”
“Why ever would you defend him?”
“I’m not defending him. It’s just that there are more important matters at stake here than avenging what’s happened to me. I think Laban killed my father, too. If anything happens to him now, the truth may never come out.”
“Carolyn, be realistic,” said Caleb. “You are so desperate to see your mother free that you refuse to accept the truth. It was she, not Laban, who was found standing over your father’s body holding the gun that killed him. Laban was a mere boy back then—fifteen years old! He may be capable of murder now, but even I can’t believe he was then. But besides all that, he was in town that night. He came with Sheriff Pollard from town. So, you see, it would have been impossible for him to kill your father, ride to town, then return with Pollard.”
“You’re sure of this? Even Laban said at the trial that he can’t remember where he was.”
“I remember every detail of that night, Carolyn, like it happened an hour ago. I will never forget.”
“I still believe you’re wrong, Grandfather, and I’m gonna prove it.”
Caleb did not respond for a moment. Then he said, “I’m going back home. I want you to accompany me, Carolyn.” Without waiting for her to reply, he walked to the horses.
Carolyn opened her mouth to argue about being told what to do. But she noted her grandfather’s labored, unsteady gait. His recent illness and the strenuous morning was too much for him, but he likely was too proud to admit his fatigue and need for Carolyn to be with him in case the ride home became too much for him.
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Matt smiled. “If I ever doubted that you two was related, I’d be a believer now. I never seen two more stubborn mules.”
Part 13
Guilty or Innocent?
60
Griff and his companions arrived in Leander Sunday night. He had considered going to Stoner’s Crossing but decided it would be wise to steer as clear of Caleb Stoner as possible. Griff had no great fear of the law as far as his past crimes went—that is, as long as Caleb Stoner did not press the issue. Stoner, of course, had no proof regarding Griff’s past, but he could stir things up enough to get the law to investigate. There was also Pollard to consider, and he could identify Griff.
For those reasons, Griff, Longjim, and Slim were going to keep away from the trial, too. Sky would keep them informed about its progress while they maintained a low profile in town.
They did, however, risk visiting Deborah that night in jail. Sam was there, too, and it was a lively reunion. Deborah was so touched and happy they had come to support her that she didn’t even mention her concern for the ranch. No one suspected that Griff had an ulterior motive for being there, and he left it that way. It might just get them all riled up for nothing if the trial ended successfully.
While Sky went to the hotel with Sam and Jonathan Barnum, the three ex-outlaws headed for one of Leander’s four saloons. Sam had warned Griff that Pollard hung out in the town’s saloons, mostly the one where the trial was being held and also one on the edge of town. Griff chose one of the remaining ones, a lively little place called the Dancing Tumbleweed.
They ordered beer and sat at the last empty table. It felt good to stretch out and relax after the long ride, especially for a saddle-weary Griff.
“Can’t believe I was so anxious to get back on a horse,” said Griff.
“Well, at least you made it,” said Longjim, sipping his drink. “I was worried I’d have to be mopping up blood on the way.”
“Naw, everything’s just fine.”
“And a good thing,” added Slim, “’cause we was never much for doctoring.”
Griff smiled. “That reminds me of years ago when we was with Deborah, and how worried she was that we’d have to deliver her baby.”
“As if Carolyn ain’t ornery enough!” laughed Slim. “Think what she’d be like if three sidewinders like us had brought her into the world.”
“Well, if Deborah had wanted some fragile, genteel little lady, she was sure disappointed.”
“She ain’t disappointed one bit in Lynnie,” Griff said with an almost fatherly pride. “You hear her talking ‘bout how that girl has Caleb Stoner near wrapped round her finger?”
“You think Stoner’s changed that much?” asked Slim.
But Griff looked away from his friend and hardly heard his question. An attractive woman who had been sitting at a nearby table had left her seat and was walking toward Griff’s table. Her striking red hair had first caught his attention, but then he noticed that the rest of her was pretty striking also. She had pale, clear skin, though a thin layer of makeup attempted to cover scattered freckles. Her green eyes had kind of a sparkle in them, as if she was constantly laughing without making a sound or moving her lips. She wore the attire of a saloon girl—emerald green like her eyes, flouncy and bright, low-cut and well-fitted—and indeed, was lately employed by the Dancing Tumbleweed.
Griff gave her a big grin, never doubting that she had her sights set on him.
“Howdy, miss,” he said, and, jumping up, grabbed a vacant chair and lodged it between his and Slim’s. “Have a seat.”
> “Thanks,” she said. “You gents are new in town, aren’t you?”
“That’s a fact,” said Griff. “It sure is nice of you to welcome us lonely cowboys.”
“You are welcome, no doubt about that, but I don’t figure you to be just lonely cowboys.”
Longjim bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to make trouble.”
“So, what do you want?” Griff was deflated to think she might have something in mind other than just making his charming acquaintance.
“I couldn’t help hearing your conversation a minute ago. I heard a name that was familiar to me, and I wondered if we didn’t have a mutual friend. You were talking about someone named Deborah, and I happen to know a Deborah also. Could it be the same person?”
Griff decided he better be careful, at least until he found out who this stranger was. He did hope she turned out to be a friend. “Could be. Tell me about this Deborah you know.”
“Well, Deborah Killion is my friend. She’s over in the town jail right now and is on trial for murder. She and I were in the county prison together. I got out a couple of weeks ago.”
“That so?” Griff took a keener appraisal of this woman.
“What was you in prison for?” asked Longjim bluntly.
“Now,” Griff interrupted, “maybe that ain’t none of our business.”
“I guess I don’t mind telling you. I mean, it’s no secret, though I’m not exactly shouting it all over town. I was arrested for stealing money from a former employer. But I was just trying to get what was rightly mine, money he’d withheld that I’d fairly earned. He was a big man in town, and no one believed that for years he’d been cheating me and the other gals who worked for him. I’d finally had it and decided to take my share and leave town. I got caught and tossed in jail for two years.”
“That must’ve been tough. How much did you steal?”
“Fifty dollars.”
Griff shook his head, thinking of the inequity of the justice system, and he wondered how Deborah could place so much faith in it. But for now, he wanted to know more about this pretty woman who claimed to know Deborah. “So you and Deborah were friends?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it? I mean, that a fine lady like Deborah could befriend a person like me who doesn’t have all that much to be proud of. So, is it the same person?”
Griff, Slim, and Longjim all nodded with broad grins.
“Sounds just like Deborah,” said Griff. “She seems to attract the oddest friends. But I like to think it’s because she sees something good in them that most folks miss ‘cause they ain’t looking in the right places. Now, don’t get me wrong, miss—ah, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Lucy Reeves.”
“Well, Miss Reeves, I know what I’m talking about, ‘cause I happen to be one of her odd-ball friends.”
Lucy chuckled—a hearty, deep sound. “I’ll bet you’re Griff McCulloch.” She grinned at Griff’s wide-eyed astonishment. She looked at Slim. “You must be Slim, and you gotta be Longjim.”
“How’d you know?”
“There isn’t much to do in jail but talk. I suppose Deborah and I know as much about each other as anyone, even you.”
“So, I reckon it ain’t no coincidence that you’re here working in Leander,” said Griff.
“No. I just couldn’t take off before I knew how Deborah’s trial turned out.” For a moment the lightness of her demeanor was replaced by an earnestness. “She saved my life back there in prison. One of the inmates had it in for me and was trying to frame me for doing something that would have got my release canceled. Deborah took the blame and took seven days of solitary so I could get out on schedule. I owe her a bundle. I know it doesn’t help her much, me just being here, but I couldn’t walk out yet. And, if it turns sour on her…well, I still don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Deborah’s lucky to have a friend like you, Miss Reeves,” said Griff.
“Why don’t you fellows call me Lucy? I feel like I know you right well.”
“That sounds just fine, Lucy. How’s about having a beer with us?”
“Thanks, but I better be getting back to work. The boss don’t like us giving too much attention to one customer.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “By the way, if you need me for anything, just holler. I’ll do just about anything for Deborah.”
“I reckon I can’t see what we could do for her at this point.”
Lucy rested a hand on the table and bent low, speaking in an intense whisper, “If that’s so, then maybe you three gents aren’t the same fellows Deborah told me about.”
“I don’t rightly take your meaning, Lucy,” said Griff innocently. He did understand, but he wanted to make certain that what she was implying was what he was thinking.
“From what Deborah told me, you aren’t the kind of men to sit still and take a beating without fighting back—and the same goes where your friends are concerned. Well, I never did trust courts and lawyers and such like, and I got my doubts that Deborah is going to get a fair shake from them.”
“And…?”
“You are the three that busted her out of jail nineteen years ago, aren’t you?”
Griff smiled and nodded.
“Well,” said Lucy with the kind of grit Griff had to respect, “I’m here to help.”
“Thanks, Lucy.” Before she turned to go, Griff lightly took her hand. “I hope to see you again.”
“I hope so, too.”
When the three ex-outlaws were alone, Griff said, “Now, there’s a woman!”
“Deborah sure knows how to pick ’em,” said Slim admiringly.
“You think it’s gonna come to that—busting Deborah out of jail?” asked Longjim.
“That’s why we came, boys,” said Griff. “I ain’t looking for trouble, but I ain’t gonna back away from it, either.”
61
Back at the Leander Hotel, Sam, Sky, and Jonathan Barnum were having what Barnum liked to call a “pow-wow.” It was time, he said, to finalize their battle strategy. They were seated in Jonathan’s room, which he had converted into a makeshift office with a desk and several oak chairs from the hotel lobby.
“I know we’ve debated about this before,” Jonathan said, “but I’ve decided to put Deborah on the stand. I was waiting to make my decision to see if the prosecution would call her. They didn’t, and I think the reason is that they feared she’d make too favorable an impression on the jury. Deborah simply does not come off like a murderer, and we must use that to our advantage.”
“But once she’s up there,” said Sam, “the prosecution is gonna use her for target practice.”
“You yourself said she’s a strong woman, Sam. I think she can take it. So does she; I’ve talked to her and she wants to testify. Besides, if the prosecution does try to rake her over the coals, it will only make them look bad and get the jury’s sympathy for Deborah.”
“Maybe I’m just afraid I can’t take it,” Sam admitted.
Jonathan smiled sympathetically and patted Sam on the shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend. And there is no way to make this ordeal easier, except to be prepared.” Jonathan glanced at Sky. “It won’t be easy for you, either, young man. Some delicate subject matter must be dealt with.”
“I know, sir,” said Sky.
“I think it might be easier for your mother if you weren’t present for her testimony.”
“I came a long way to be here for her,” Sky said, looking slightly rejected. Then he forced himself to respond more objectively and less selfishly. “Okay, I guess I understand.”
“I’m going to put your mother on the stand tomorrow, and there’s something you can do during that time, Sky.” Sky nodded. “I want you to go to the bank in Stoner’s Crossing and do some research for me.”
“What do you have in mind, Jonathan?” asked Sam.
“I’ve been very unsettled about that Mendez woman’s testimony.
I think the jury is going to put a lot of weight on it because of her relatively objective position in all this. She obviously has no reason to be hostile toward Deborah.”
“But I remember Carolyn saying how hostile she was toward the Stoners,” said Sam.
“Yes, and it just doesn’t add up.”
“What’d you think Sky will find at the bank?”
“She owns the saloon now, and I’m curious about when she came into possession. We know that Domingo, the former owner, went bankrupt shortly after Leonard’s death. The cantina then reverted back to Caleb. How long after that did Mrs. Mendez assume ownership? It would hurt the objectivity of her testimony if it can be proved that she came to own it as a result of her testimony at the first trial.”
“You mean Caleb could have rewarded her for her testimony by giving her the cantina?”
“And this is what you wish me to find at the bank?” asked Sky.
“Exactly.”
“I’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“Good. I’ll prepare a letter of introduction for you. Mrs. Vernon has applied some pressure to her husband, making him fairly open with us. I don’t think you’ll have any problems.” Jonathan folded his hands across his middle and leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. “There is one more matter we must discuss—that is, whether to put Caleb Stoner on the stand. The prosecution deftly avoided that also, and we must carefully consider the positives and negatives of such a move. It’s late now, but give this some thought. We have a day or two before we must decide.”
“I got a matter to discuss,” Sam added. He pulled a paper from his pocket. “Just got this telegram from Carolyn. She says we ought to verify with Pollard the whereabouts of Laban Stoner the night of the murder. Caleb says Laban was in town and came back to the ranch with Pollard.”
“Do you think Pollard will cooperate?”
“I reckon, if we’re subtle. I’m for finding him tonight and questioning him.”
“It might only prove more firmly the innocence of our most viable suspect. However, as it stands he’s as good as innocent, anyway.”
“It’s worth the risk,” Sam persisted. “But, Jonathan, I think you ought to do the talking; you got more practice at this sort of thing than me.”
