Cody too? Patience tried to absorb all he was telling her, and she found that she believed him. She shifted on the cot, and finally said, “God forgives us no matter what we’ve done, Nathan, so why shouldn’t we forgive ourselves?”
“I doubt He will forgive me,” he argued.
“When you are in doubt, see what God says in the Scriptures.”
“I bet you’ve never had those kinds of doubts, Patience.”
“But I have, Nathan, and I’m not too proud to say so.”
He simply stared across the small cell at her.
“The man you mentioned, Cody,” she said slowly. “Was his last name Martin?”
“Yes, he just happened to be in the wrong place, and the vigilantes thought he was part of the gang.”
Patience licked her lips and tried to still her heartbeat. Things were falling into place now. She felt sorry for Nathan. “Cody’s alive and works at the Cross Bar Ranch,” she said softly.
“What did you say? Alive? He can’t be! They strung him up, and Jedediah was the one that gave the word.” Nathan was staring wide-eyed now.
“It’s a long story.” Patience heard Jedediah returning from across the room. “I’ll pray for you, Nathan.” She wanted to ask if Russell ever had any intention of marrying her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not now.
“I’m as good as convicted,” Nathan solemnly said. “We both know that.”
“Time’s up!” Jedediah called, turning the key and unlocking the cell.
“Goodbye, Nathan,” Patience murmured, giving Nathan one last look before she slipped out the cell door.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, her lips held tight, as she led Jed over to the corner.
“Tell you what?”
“That you were once known as ‘Vigilante X’ and responsible for hangings!” Patience knew her voice was loud and shrill, but she couldn’t help herself.
Jedediah’s face held a stunned look, as though she’d hit him over the head with one of her prized frying pans. When he didn’t answer for a moment, she started for the door. But he finally said, “Because I didn’t see how that could matter now.”
Patience swung back, trembling. “Matter! Matter? When you were responsible for killing the man I’d hoped to marry?”
He looked genuinely bewildered. “What man? I didn’t know you were intended for someone else . . . you never said.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it, because Russell is dead,” she said flatly.
“Russell? You’re talking about Russell Watkins? You mean you’d have married a cattle thief?” he shot back.
She lowered her gaze, crestfallen. “I didn’t know that until just now,” she said, her voice low.
“I’ve never hanged an innocent person.”
“I need to go. I just—” She picked up her skirts and spun around to leave. Suddenly loud voices were heard outside. Jedediah locked the front door, then looked out the window, a scowl on his face. A crowd was shouting for the prisoner to be released to them.
“They were here earlier with threats to take Nathan,” Jedediah muttered. “It seems they believe they can administer justice better than me—like I’m not the peacemaker.” He dropped his hand from the window sash. “Monty’s with them now. I never thought I’d live to see my best friend turn against me.”
Suddenly a shower of rocks hit the window, and Patience jumped. “Step back, Patience. Looks like some very angry people in the street. I don’t want you to get hurt. Folks don’t agree with me taking Nathan to Helena tomorrow.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll go out there, try to talk some sense into Monty and them. But you stay inside here. Some of these guys are just along for the ruckus, and they’ve been drinking. No telling what they’re liable to do.” He took her elbow and guided her to a chair away from the window. “Stay here and don’t move.”
Patience did as she was told, knowing he was right. For her own safety, Jedediah didn’t want the crowd to know she was there, she reasoned. She sat down away from the window as she’d been instructed, turning over in her mind all the new information she’d learned today.
———
Jedediah checked that his badge was in plain sight, lifted his carbine from the wall, added shells, and hoped he wouldn’t have to use them. He was not about to let them take the man that his posse had hunted down, and he sure didn’t need any more trouble. But it riled him that a handful of renegades wanted to do just that.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this kind of behavior that turned into hanging mobs. He eased over and peered out the window at the men milling about in the street—Monty at the center of it. He would try to reason with them.
He slid the lock open, stepped out onto the porch, and locked the door behind him. Somebody poked Monty and pointed to Jedediah. Everyone quieted down, their attention riveted on first one, then the other of the two men.
Monty spoke first. “Jedediah, you need to turn that low-down varmint over to us. If you’re feelin’ squirrely ’bout what needs to be done here, we’ll see to it for you. Nobody’ll be the wiser.”
Jedediah simply stood there for a moment. The crowd waited, but the tension in the air was intense. “He’s not going anywhere until I say so, and where I say.” Jedediah’s response was both calm and unmistakable. “I think the summer heat must have baked your brain. Since when do any of you want to take the law into your own hands? Those kind are called outlaws.”
“Since that man killed John Hargrove, that’s when!” Monty shouted, and the crowd joined in with their agreement.
“We have no proof of that,” Jedediah told them in a loud voice.
“He’s stole John’s cattle twice!” a burly man in the crowd yelled.
“I’m not discussing this any further with you. Go home peacefully, and leave this matter to me and the law. I was still the marshal last time I looked at my badge.” The setting sun glinted on it when he glanced over at Monty. “That goes for you too.” Monty grimaced and threw his cigarette down to grind it into the dust with his heel.
The small group of rabble-rousers was surrounded by a growing crowd of curious onlookers. Monty and his cohorts were grumbling among themselves. Jedediah wasn’t sure what they would decide—if they would simply go away and let him handle this or not. He raised his voice again and said, “Everyone go on home now to your suppers. The law will do what it’s supposed to do—protect the innocent and prosecute the guilty.”
Some in the crowd began moving away, and Jedediah stepped backward, quickly unlocked the door, and slipped inside, securing it behind him. It wouldn’t be safe out there for a while, he knew.
He strode over to where Patience sat, back straight, barely looking at him. “Patience, you’ll have to stay here until those men are gone. It’s not safe for you to leave yet.”
“What’s going on?” Nathan demanded from his cell. His face was white as he held on to the bars and stared at his jailer.
Jedediah walked over to him. “I’m afraid they’re after your hide.”
Beads of sweat had formed across Nathan’s forehead, and his shirt was drenched. “So what are you gonna do? Turn me out?”
“I’m thinking about it.” Jedediah snorted. “Then I could be rid of you.”
“Did you tell them that I didn’t kill John?” Nathan put in, eyes wide with fear. “Well? Did you?”
Jedediah grunted. “I told them we have no proof and to leave the rest to me. But to tell the truth, there’s about ten of them and one of me.” Jed turned on his heel and walked back to his desk. It was nearly dark so he struck a match, lit the kerosene lamp, and fixed his gaze on Patience. “I’m afraid you’re stuck here with me for a while, just to play it safe.”
“I’d rather go home,” she muttered.
“Sure you would, but once they know you’re in here with me, they may not take so kindly to a virtuous woman who spends time with a vigilante marshal.”
Patience har
rumphed. “I’m not afraid of them.”
Even angry, he thought, she’s awfully attractive with her green eyes snapping like wildfire. “’Course you’re not, but I am.”
“You?”
Jedediah sighed. “Yes, I know when it’s the better part of wisdom to be cautious. I don’t want a shooting, and you might be harmed, just out of their cussedness. I am afraid when a crowd of men takes it into their minds to do the dispensing of justice.”
“Yes, I just bet you know all about ‘dispensing justice.’” Patience folded her arms and looked away.
“Look, can we just let that go for now?”
She blew out a long breath but didn’t answer. He decided to take that as a momentary truce.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll brew us a pot of coffee. I’m afraid we’ll be here a while.” He couldn’t help but be glad she was here with him, but he sure wished the circumstances were different. Just an hour ago he was pretty sure she did care for him. And now . . . ?
He went over to the stove, stoked the fire, and started the water boiling for coffee. He had a blinding headache anyway. Those things she accused him of had hurt him, but he also realized he had hurt her even worse, though certainly unknowingly at the time. I gave the order that took the life of her beau. What kind of forgiveness would that take?
Keeping out of sight of any who might be lingering in the street, Jedediah sidled up to the window while the coffee brewed. Most of the crowd had dispersed, but a few folks were still hanging around. He couldn’t see Monty among them and hoped this would be the end of it.
He poured coffee into two blue-and-white spatter mugs and sat down to face Patience. She took the cup from him, her fingers brushing his fingertips. He wanted to hold those fingers against his chest and tell her he was sorry for the sadness reflected in those lovely eyes.
She blew on the coffee to cool it, looked at him over the rim of her mug, then finally took a sip.
To his amazement she said, “You’re getting better at coffee making.”
“Thank you. Fresh is always better.” So has she decided she can find it in her heart to forgive me?
He paused a moment before quietly asking, “Patience, could you tell me more about the man you were going to marry?”
She twisted one way, then the other, in the chair, finally putting her mug down on a nearby table. “There’s really not much to tell. Russell was beginning to add to his small herd, and he worked hard building a ranch with his brother, Nathan. He was courting me, and I believe he was getting ready to ask me to marry him . . .” She gazed out the window, a faraway look in her eyes, and Jedediah wondered if she had truly loved this man. If so, how deep was that love? And maybe most significant, how were her feelings affected by what she had learned today from Nathan?
“So he hadn’t actually asked you yet?”
She sat up straighter. “Well . . . not in so many words.” Then she looked down at her coffee. “Now that I think about it, I may have assumed too much. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Nathan about it today, but I think he wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings if the answer was no.”
Jedediah sighed. “Either way, I’m sorry Russell didn’t ask you, but hanging him was legal—fair and square.” Though if I had known it was going to hurt you, I would not have done it. He sighed again. “If it hadn’t been for the Montana Vigilantes, we wouldn’t have been able to keep up with all the crimes the road agents were responsible for. We were able to rid Montana of some of the worst—Clubfoot George Lane and Jack Gallagher, to name a couple.”
Patience cocked her head and looked him straight in the eye. “Then it was fair to hang an innocent man like Cody?”
He almost choked on his coffee. “What are you talking about, Patience? Do you mean Cody who now works at the Cross Bar?”
“One and the same,” she answered in a clipped tone.
Jedediah just stared at her for a long time. “Cody is alive and well,” he mused, looking away.
“Nathan confirmed to me that Cody is the man you hanged that day.”
Jedediah was bewildered and shook his head. “How on earth can that be?” Surely she was confused—he’d watched the man die. Had him cut down and carted away to the medical facility.
“Apparently, Cody’s neck didn’t snap like it should—” She paused and looked away, her knuckles white as her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She finally said through clenched teeth, “When you told someone to cut the body down, then take it to the local medical teaching lab for research, he wasn’t actually dead, but his throat was severely injured. That’s why he has a raspy sounding voice—he’s fortunate that he can talk at all. Cody explained to me that he wears the blue neckerchief to cover the scar. He said he was innocent, and I believed him when he told me. Now Nathan confirms it. Cody came here to find the one who hanged him, though I didn’t know it was you till today.” She looked away and gave a long sigh. “It’s a lot for me to take in, I don’t mind saying, especially knowing you had a hand in Russell’s death.”
Jedediah leaned back in his chair, his heart as heavy as he’d ever felt it. Now he knew why Cody seemed familiar, but the raspy voice had thrown him off. I am responsible for the hangings. He shook his head, bewilderment once more coming over him like a shroud.
“Come to think of it,” he finally said, “I didn’t ever see Cody’s face. It was covered with a muslin sack.” He paused, thinking. “Is he looking for revenge?”
“Something like that, but I’ve been trying to talk to him about moving on in his life and learning to forgive.” Patience lifted her coffee mug once more and took a sip. Then she set it down again and looked at him. “But I am wondering if I can forgive you for not telling me who you really are, Jedediah.”
“You know now, Patience. Do I seem like the same man Nathan talked about?” When Patience didn’t answer, he went on. “I sure hope not. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching ever since I became marshal here. Though those hangings were legal, like I said, they have been coming back to haunt me. Whether it was moral is another question—one I can’t answer right now.” He stared into his cup.
“None of us is perfect, Jed, including me. I’m so glad God loves us, even when we sin and make mistakes.” Her voice caught on the last words.
He looked up to see her eyes were full of tears. “I believe that to be truth. Otherwise, He couldn’t love me.” Jedediah spoke quietly. He stood to his feet. “I’m having another cup of coffee. How about you?” She held out her cup.
Maybe we’re making some headway, he thought as he carried their mugs over to the stove. He sure hoped so.
“Is that coffee I smell, Marshal? I could sure use a cup,” Jedediah heard Nathan yell. Patience started to get up, but Jedediah motioned for her to stay seated. “I’ll get him a cup,” he told her. “You stay put. We’ve got more talking to do.” She blinked at him and nodded.
I sure would love to know what’s going through her mind, he thought as he brought the coffee to his prisoner. He went back to the stove for the refills and returned to his place for more conversation with Patience.
24
If it weren’t for the current tense situation, Jedediah’s office would seem almost cozy, the glow of the lamp casting his shadow on the wall while Patience sipped at her second cup. She was very conscious of the danger, though, as Jed frequently made cautious trips to the window to check on things. She watched him now, standing to one side of the panes and peering out.
Nathan was silent, and Patience figured he’d gone to sleep—or maybe he was praying for a miraculous rescue. She assumed Jedediah lived upstairs, and probably in rather bare-bones accommodations. She suddenly felt sorry for him. He was alone most of the time. Wonder why he never married? she mused. Maybe no woman wanted to have a vigilante for a husband.
Jedediah returned from his check of the street, then pulled his chair closer. “Still some guys out there,” he said as he sat down. Patience rather liked the mixture of leather and soap when he l
eaned close enough to see her face in the dim light.
“I sure wonder what they’re hatching. Hope it’s nothing.”
“Maybe they’ll realize you are right, that the best way for justice to be done is by the law, and eventually go home.” Jedediah didn’t say anything, simply nodded thoughtfully.
Patience chewed her bottom lip, trying to get up her courage, then said, “Jed, why haven’t you ever married?”
His face registered surprise. “This new question gives me a momentary reprieve from the uncomfortable discussion about how I’ve lived my life?”
She felt herself blush and was glad the light wasn’t all that bright. “I just wondered, that’s all.”
Jedediah leaned forward, both elbows on his knees, cradling his mug. “Truth is, I had found what I thought was a rather nice young woman years ago and wanted to settle down, but the lady jilted me.” He stared at his coffee. “Seems she had her eye on bigger and better things. It took me a long time to get over it, and I’ve never seemed to find a lady to court since—” He looked up at Patience. “And then I met you. I never had much mothering growing up and was raised in Pennsylvania with little education. I think I already told you I’ve worked as a shoemaker and a brick maker. Then the small farm in Kansas, but couldn’t make a go of it. And now . . . well, only you can tell me about now.”
“I don’t know, Jed. I was beginning to think we had something special, but that was before today—before learning more about your past. And not merely your past, but something that directly impacted me. I’m just not sure . . .”
“I have so many regrets,” he finally answered, “things I need to rectify. But some can’t be undone. I’ve made my peace with the Lord, Patience, and now all I want to do is keep the peace in Nevada City. And—if you’ll let me—win your heart and your hand.”
The Trouble with Patience Page 18
