Brennan did not move but sat on the cot and tried to make his mind blank. Every time thoughts came to him, they were bad, and he was afraid in a way he never had been before. Even a bunch of screaming Cheyennes hadn’t put the fear in him that he felt now. He could face a Cheyenne’s arrow in his belly, but the idea of being locked up like an animal gave him the shakes.
“Got a visitor for you. As a matter of fact, got four visitors for you.”
Brennan looked up to see Temperance enter the room. She was carrying Timmy in one arm, and behind her Billy and Rose Abbott trailed along. Billy’s eyes were big as saucers, and Rose was staring at him in a strange fashion. “I told you,” she said, “if you was mean, something bad would happen to you.”
“Thanks, Rose,” Brennan said, getting to his feet. “You’re almost as cheerful as Benny there.”
“You folks visit all you want to. You want me to brang you a cheer, Miss Temperance?”
“No, that’s all right, Benny. I won’t be long.”
Brennan backed up against the wall and folded his arms. “Well, this make you happy?”
“Of course it doesn’t, Thaddeus,” Temperance said quickly. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, you were mad because I was leaving you.”
“I was upset, but I didn’t want this for you. I wouldn’t wish this on any man.”
“Have you got to stay here forever?” Rose piped up.
“This or someplace worse.”
“Maybe they’ll let you go,” Temperance said.
“Not very likely. I hear the federal judge is a hanging judge.”
“They couldn’t hang you, could they, if the man lives?”
“No, just a way of talking. He hands out the stiffest sentences he can think up. Anyway, this is all your fault.”
Temperance’s head jerked up, and she stared at him with astonishment. “What do you mean my fault? I didn’t shoot that man.”
“If you hadn’t gone into town to get some hired help, you would never have heard about me, and I would be out bustin’ rock, building a road for Judge Henry. Instead of that, you find me and I’m going to the penitentiary now and it’s your fault.”
Temperance shook her head. “Your reasoning is wrong there. Look, I brought you a cake.” She slid the cake on the floor, and he looked at it with disdain. “I don’t want none of your cake.” Temperance had tried to talk to Brennan about God on more than one occasion. He had been less than receptive, telling her more than once to mind her own business, but now she knew she had to say something. “I know things are bad, but God can do all things. Don’t give up on God, Brennan.”
“I’ve already done that. Now I wish you’d leave.”
Temperance started to speak, but seeing the set features of the tall man, she said quietly, “All right, but I’ll be praying for you.” He did not answer, so Temperance moved back toward the door of the sheriff’s office.
Benny reentered and stared down at the cake. “She brought you a cake.”
“I don’t want her old cake.”
“Well, give it to me then.”
Brennan shoved the cake out with his toe, and Benny at once gathered it up and began breaking off chunks and cramming them into his mouth. He mumbled, “I reckon getting hung spoils a man’s appetite. But you ain’t dead yet. Maybe that Simons fellow will live, and they’ll let you go.”
“No, they won’t.” A gloom had descended on Thaddeus Brennan. He lay down on the cot and closed his eyes. “It’s all up with me, Benny.”
* * *
BRENNAN MUST HAVE REMEMBERED his words in the days that followed: “It’s all up with me.” He had expected to be kept in jail for weeks, maybe even months, until Asa Witherspoon, the territorial judge, came by. As was his luck, Witherspoon appeared three days after the shooting and opened his courtroom the next day. Since Brennan had no money to pay for a lawyer, Witherspoon appointed an elderly, senile ex-lawyer named Leon Clark to defend him. Clark barely knew his own name, and when he came for his one visit, he had listened to Brennan’s side of the story and said in his cracked, high-pitched voice, “Son, you just got to plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court.”
“There were witnesses that he drew first.”
“Look at yourself, boy. You’re a dirty, shiftless criminal, and who was the man you shot? The son of a United States senator. If you got any sense at all, boy, you will know who that jury’s going to believe. Don’t even try to convince them. I’m not going to try.”
Nothing Brennan said could shake the old man, and finally when he went into the courtroom, he already knew the outcome, and he was not wrong. He pleaded not guilty, and Witherspoon glared at him with icy blue eyes. “Your plea is registered. The prosecution may present its case.”
The prosecution called three witnesses. Al Sharpless was one of them, and the other two were the miners who had been in the card game. They all three testified that Brennan had drawn his gun first.
Brennan rose in indignation, but the judge said, “Sit down! The prisoner will sit down! Mr. Clark, keep your client in line.”
Clark grabbed Brennan’s sleeve. “Son, do what I told you. Don’t do to argue with this judge. Just hope that he ain’t feeling especially mean.”
But Judge Witherspoon was feeling mean. The trial itself lasted no longer than twenty minutes for, of course, Clark called no witnesses. He simply tried to present Brennan as an innocent bystander.
The jury was out for only ten minutes, and Brennan wondered bitterly why it took that long.
When the jurors came back, he saw his fate written on their faces.
“We find the defendant guilty of attempted murder, Judge.”
Witherspoon said, “The prisoner will rise.”
Brennan stood up, and his eyes locked with Witherspoon’s. “You’ve been found guilty of attempted murder. I sentence you to ten years in the federal prison. Mr. Simons is still in some danger. If he dies, you’ll be brought back from prison and tried for murder. Take the prisoner away, bailiff. Next case.”
Joe Meek had attended the trial, and now he came over and put his hand on Brennan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Thad. It ain’t right. Those witnesses were intimidated. Sharpless don’t even spit unless Judge Henry tells him to, and Judge Henry and Witherspoon are old cronies. You didn’t have a chance, Thad.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Let this thing die down. I’ll try to get you a retrial when things cool. Simons is going to be all right. When he gets well, I’ve got some friends in Congress who can talk to the senator.”
“I appreciate that, Joe, but it won’t do any good.”
“Don’t give up, son. Never give up!”
* * *
TEMPERANCE HAD NOT ATTENDED the trial. It would have been too difficult with three small children. She got the word from Reverend Blevins, who came to her farm. As soon as he stepped onto the porch, Temperance said, “They found him guilty, didn’t they, Pastor?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“What was the sentence?”
“Ten years.”
“It’s so unfair.”
“Justice isn’t always done in this world, but I’ve been talking to Marshal Meek. He says as soon as it cools down, he can get Brennan a new trial. In the meanwhile he’s going to talk to the witnesses and threaten them if they don’t tell the truth for the next time.”
“Does he really think there’s hope?”
“So he says.”
“I’m sorry for it,” Temperance said.
“So am I. Prison is a bad thing for any man.” As he turned to leave, he said, “I’m still looking for somebody to take the children back East.”
* * *
AS USUAL, BY THE time Temperance got into bed, she was exhausted. She went to sleep almost at once, but then in a manner very unlike her usual habit, she suddenly awoke. It was as if someone had spoken in her ear. The immediacy of it frightened her, and she lay very still, thinking at first that someone was
breaking into the house.
The house was silent, however, and she heard nothing, then finally, as her custom was, she began to pray. She had gone to bed thinking about the problem of getting the children to their families, and now she began to argue with God. God, do You really want me to take Timmy and the rest of these children back East? You know I couldn’t do it alone.
For a long time she prayed, but nothing came from heaven. Not a voice, not a thought, not an impulse. She didn’t want to wake the children, but she prayed fervently, whispering in a passionate way.
She was bending down to pull the covers up when suddenly a thought pushed its way into her mind.
There was no other way to describe it. The thought actually pushed its way in! It was as if she were in a room and the door had opened and a stranger had come in and placed himself before her. She fell silent and waited for the thought to leave, but it persisted.
For twenty minutes she struggled, and finally she remembered how Jacob had struggled all night long with an angel. She remembered, too, that the Bible said Jacob struggled so hard he was injured in the wrestling match.
The struggle was fierce though not physical; and, finally, by the time dawn began to lighten the line of hills in the east, she knew she had heard from God. Her face was marred with tears, and she said, God, I don’t understand any of this, but I’m going to do my best to obey You no matter how foolish people think it might be.
* * *
BRENNAN LOOKED UP FROM where he was lying on his cot. He had not slept at all the previous night, for thoughts of prison weighed heavily on him. He heard Benny saying something but paid little attention, but when Temperance spoke to him, he slowly got to his feet and walked over to look down at her. “What do you want?” He saw that her face was pale and that her hands were not steady, so unsteady in fact that she laced them together to keep them still.
“I’ve come to ask you something.”
“What would you have to ask me?”
Taking a deep breath, Temperance looked him in the eye. Even in his misery, he was aware of something, not for the first time: She was not beautiful, but she had a great deal of vitality and imagination—although she kept those qualities under restraint. He knew she was a strong woman, and suddenly it occurred to him that she was capable enough to draw a gun, shoot a man, and not go to pieces afterward. She had, in fact, the courage and simplicity of action that, at this moment, seemed nearly primitive. “What do you want?”
“What would you give,” Temperance asked, keeping her voice steady, “to get out of this place?”
“You mean to escape?”
“Yes.”
“Just about anything.”
Temperance clasped the bars and put her face close to them. Her voice was driving and insistent, and he saw her earnestness. “If I get you out of here, will you take me and the children back East?”
Brennan blinked with surprise and then snorted, “Are you crazy, Peabody? You can’t break me out of the jail.”
“Yes, I can. I’ve got a plan.”
“I don’t know what it is, but it’ll never work.”
“But if it could work, what would you do?”
“To stay out of the pen? I’d do anything.”
“I think you’re a man without honor.” She reached into her reticule and drew a thick, black Bible out. “Will you put your hand on the Bible and swear to me that you won’t leave me and the children? That you’ll get us over the trail somehow?”
Brennan shook his head. “That Bible don’t mean anything to me, but I’ll give you my word. As far as I know, I haven’t broke it since I’ve been grown.”
“Put your hand on the Bible and swear.”
Brennan put his hand out. “What do you want me to say?”
“In your own words promise me, on your soul, that you’ll get us back if you can.”
“I promise you that I’ll get you back East and the kids, too, if it kills me doing it.”
The two stood looking at each other, and somehow both knew they had stepped over some kind of a line. They could never be the same toward each other as they had been before. Taking a deep breath, Temperance nodded. She put the Bible back in her reticule and asked, “Does Benny sleep here?”
“Yeah, but he’s got a gun. He sometimes gets the idea that he’s tough, and he’d shoot you if you tried to bust me out.”
“I know that. You just be ready to go sometime before midnight.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind, Peabody. This ain’t never gonna work.”
“Yes, it will, Thaddeus. God will get you out of here, and we’ll get these children to their people!”
Chapter Six
TEMPERANCE TOOK THE GOLDEN brown chicken out of the grease, laid it on the towel, and let it drain. She looked out the window and saw with satisfaction that there was only a thin sliver of a moon. It looked like a tiny shell that had been washed by the tide as it hung over the sky.
A glance at her clock showed her that it was past ten o’clock, which meant she would get into town about eleven—exactly what she planned. Turning her attention to the chicken, she put it into a basket on top of a white covering and then put the smaller basket into a larger one. She added a jar full of potato salad and carefully stacked biscuits wrapped in napkins.
Going to the lower cabinet, she pulled out the jar of hard cider she seldom used. It was as potent as any liquor and had a delicious taste. Her father had taught her to make it back in Maine, and she kept a milder form of it for use at the table. But this had the kick of a mule. She removed the lid from a quart jar, filled it half-full of the cider, then set the jug down. Reaching on the top shelf of the cabinet, she pulled out a large brown bottle holding a pint of liquid. This was laudanum, the potent drug used by all frontier people for killing pain. Carefully she added three more spoonfuls, but then stared uncertainly at it. She didn’t want to kill the man, but she did want him rendered unconscious. Satisfied that she had added enough of the drug, she capped the bottle, put it back, then added the spiked cider to the large basket. She closed the lid and took it outside to the wagon. She had already made pallets in the back for the children for she would have to take them with her.
Going back inside, she went into the bedroom and leaned over saying, “Rose—Rose, wake up.”
Rose woke up and opened her eyes sleepily. “What is it, Temperance?”
“We’ve got to go to town.”
“Is it daytime?”
“No, it’s night, but we’ve got to go. Can you get Billy dressed while I get the baby ready?”
“Yes.”
“It’s still a little cool out, so wear something warm.”
Fifteen minutes later Temperance shut the door and walked quickly to the wagon. Timmy was protesting slightly but went right to sleep under the warmth of the covers she wrapped around him. She put him down on the floorboard in a box she used whenever she took him to town and then reached down and picked up Billy. Rose scrambled to the seat and pulled Billy over beside her.
“Why we going to town, Temperance?”
“There’s something I have to do there. Why don’t you get on the pallet? You can go back to sleep.”
“I think I will. Come on, Billy.”
Temperance watched the two crawl under the blankets and cover up. Then she spoke to the team. The two horses stepped forward, no doubt wondering where they were going at such an unusual hour. As they left the yard, a coon looking like a bandit with its black mask came cautiously down from the pecan tree in the front yard and watched the wagon as it left.
* * *
THE STREETS OF WALLA WALLA were dark as Temperance drove into town—which was what she had hoped. She had not been to town this late at night before, and as she drove the team down the street, she could hear the tinkling sound of a piano coming from one of the saloons and the off-key voice of a woman trying to sing. She pulled the team down to a walk, hoping that no one would notice.
No one came out of the saloo
n. As she glanced in the window, she saw that a man and a woman were dancing, and she wondered what it was like to go into a saloon and drink whiskey. It would be something as foreign to her experience as going to the moon.
She stopped the wagon on a deserted street before she got in front of the jail and glanced down to see that Timmy was sleeping soundly. Another look showed her that both Rose and Billy were asleep. Breathing a prayer of thanks, she stepped out of the wagon, picked up the basket, and went to the door. She knocked gently, and there was no answer. From inside the jail there was no sound and only the faint light of a lamp.
She knocked louder and finally heard someone speak.
“What do you want?”
“Is that you, Benny?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” The door opened, and Benny stood before her, blinking owlishly. “Why, Miss Peabody, it’s you.”
“May I come in, Benny?”
“Why, shore you can. Come on in.” Benny stepped back. “Whut you doing out this time of the night?”
“Oh, I had to make a late visit. I had some food to take to a family, but it didn’t work out. I thought I might leave it for Brennan.” She paused and smiled. “Unless you’d like some. I don’t guess you’re hungry this time of the night.”
Everyone, including Temperance, knew that the jailer’s appetite was a natural calamity. The rumor was that he had a tapeworm or a disease, for he would still be eating when everyone else was pushing back from the table.
“I made up way too much fried chicken and potato salad and fresh biscuits. Would you like some, even though it’s late?”
“I shore would, ma’am!”
She handed him the basket and said, “I didn’t know if you were a drinking man or not, but I brought some cider my daddy taught me how to make back in Maine.”
“Why, nothing I like better than good homemade cider!”
“You be careful now. It’s pretty strong stuff.”
Benny laughed. “Stronger the better I say. Here, you set yourself down and eat with me.”
“Well, I believe I will have a bite.”
A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel) Page 7
