Cowboy Homecoming

by Louise M. Gouge

  “That’s true.” She smiled at the memory of sighing over his good looks with her friends. She also remembered some of his mean tricks. Long before he put a burr under Gypsy’s saddle, he’d put nettles in the schoolteacher’s coat. And he’d teased Grace for being so tall until Laurie threatened to call him Bartholomew in front of the other children. She and Grace never told their parents about it because they’d managed the situation on their own. “But I’ve grown far beyond childhood infatuations.”

  “Have you?” He studied her sternly, then returned her smile. “You can’t blame me for worrying. He got into a heap of trouble as a boy, even if he did treat you girls all right. If he met the wrong people in Boston, he could’ve changed.”

  “If he did, it was for the better.” She divided the cooked meat into two portions, one for soup and one for pot pie so one chicken would last for two suppers. “Look at the way he’s using his time and money to install a bathroom for Mrs. Foster. Isn’t that generous?”

  “Never said he wasn’t generous. The Colonel and Charlotte reared ’em all that way, same as your ma and me reared you girls.” Pa drained his cup of coffee and held the cup out to Laurie. “Good coffee, daughter.”

  Her heart warmed. This was just like being at home, which she dearly missed in her quieter moments. “Thanks. I learned from the best.” And had learned from her earlier mistakes.

  “I guess only time will tell about Tolley.” She recalled the way he’d withdrawn from her yesterday. “Say, did you talk to him?”

  Instead of answering, Pa shoved a large bite of cake into his mouth.

  “Did you?”

  He shrugged and pointed to his full cheeks.

  She shook her head. “That’s answer enough for me.” What a rascal. Still, she appreciated his protectiveness. If she could find a man in Denver with the same godly character and sense of humor, she’d marry him quick.

  “Sure smells good in here.” Tolley poked his head in through the hall doorway. As his gaze fell on Pa, he drew back in surprise. “Why, howdy, George. Good to see you.”

  If Laurie had doubts that Pa had spoken to him, the hesitation in Tolley’s demeanor dispelled them. “Come on in. You may as well finish up this cake.” She served out the last piece and poured coffee for him.

  “I don’t want to interrupt anything.” He gave Pa an awkward grin. Actually, more of a grimace.

  “I’ll be leaving soon.” Pa’s eyes narrowed. “What have you been up to? Other than running off prowlers, that is.”

  Shrugging, Tolley sat at the table and accepted the cake and coffee. “Thanks, Laurie.” He regarded Pa with a guarded look. “You don’t need to worry about the prowler. I’ll be keeping watch here and making nighttime rounds. I told the sheriff about it. He’s coming over later.” He ate a bite of cake. “Mmm-mmm, Laurie, this is even better today.”

  Laurie recognized his slightly furtive expression. The poor dear couldn’t think of what to say to Pa. Like the Colonel, Pa could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

  Instead of addressing Pa, however, Tolley spoke to her. “I got my shingle up and my law office opened. Even hired Effie Bean to be my receptionist, if Homer gives his approval.” He turned to Pa. “If you have any legal matters that need tending, I’d be proud to handle them for you.”

  His cake all gone, Pa set his fork on his plate with a clatter. “Never needed a lawyer. Don’t expect to need one now.” He stood and carried his plate and cup to the sink. “Daughter, you remember what we talked about.” He stalked out of the room and left the house.

  Hurting for her friend, Laurie sat in the vacated chair. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude, Tolley.”

  “No, of course not.” Tolley stood, leaving his cake and coffee unfinished. “Excuse me.”

  He walked from the kitchen, his shoulders slumped, and Laurie’s heart broke for him. What would it take for Pa, and many others in this town, to see how hard he was trying to prove he’d changed? Would they even give him a chance?

  * * *

  After getting his business satchel and a box of books from his room, Tolley strode up the street toward his office, his temper vying with his wounded sense of worth. George Eberly didn’t trust him, not only with living in the same boardinghouse as Laurie, but with his legal affairs. With him setting the example, would Tolley ever be able to get any clients?

  He’d show George. He’d show all of them. Jud Purvis needed a lawyer, and Tolley needed a client. A perfect match, in his book. If the sheriff didn’t object, what could anyone else say? After all, Lawson was the victim, and he wasn’t certain Purvis shot him. With the right evidence...or lack thereof, Tolley could get him off. Not from prison, because he deserved it for his part in the gang’s robberies, but at least from hanging.

  The two bites he’d consumed of Laurie’s cake whetted his appetite. After dropping off his books and satchel at his office, he headed over to Williams’s Café for a quick lunch. While he ate Miss Pam’s tasty beans and ham and corn bread, he mulled over his human assets.

  In spite of George’s dislike, the sheriff approved of him, as did Mrs. Foster, shopkeeper Mrs. Winsted, banker Nolan Means and Tolley’s hotelier brother-in-law, Garrick Wakefield—all important citizens of Esperanza. Best of all, Laurie remained his friend. Her encouragement meant the world to him. If he offered her a marriage of convenience and she accepted, they could be happy together and maybe in time even fall in love. Without question, the Colonel would approve, and being a devoted father, George would eventually come around. He’d see Tolley had changed, had grown up. When he saw Tolley taking good care of Laurie, his opinion would surely improve. It would work. Tolley would make sure it did.

  First things first. He’d meet Purvis and take his statement and then go home and propose to Laurie before the other boarders came home. Then they wouldn’t catch him alone with Laurie and misunderstand a perfectly respectable situation.

  Gobbling down the last of his dinner, he paid his bill and headed back to his office. After placing his law books and dictionary on the shelves in his office and sundry office supplies in his desk drawers, he took a white legal pad and pencil and headed next door.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff.” Tolley removed his hat and hung it on a peg by the door. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Purvis.”

  Lawson gave him one of his long looks, the kind that would probably intimidate a troublemaker and make him think twice about breaking the law. Instinctively, Tolley swallowed hard. Not long ago, he’d been a troublemaker.

  After an uncomfortable silence, the sheriff said, “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Yessir.” Now that he finally had a plan, Tolley wasn’t about to change his mind.

  “All right.” Lawson stood and grabbed a ring of keys from a peg behind his desk. “Let’s go.” He led the way through the door and into the large room containing three cells, each connected to the next one by a single wall of heavy iron bars. “Purvis, you got company.”

  The jail’s sole prisoner half reclined on a cot in the middle cell. When the sheriff spoke, the scowl on the man’s face wavered slightly, then hardened again. “Yeah? Who’s the dandy?”

  Tolley had never been called a dandy, an insult for any cattle rancher or hard-riding cowboy. Somehow he managed to grin. “Howdy, Purvis. I’m Bartholomew Northam, attorney-at-law. Mind if I join you?”

  This brought the outlaw to his feet, and he gripped two of his cell bars. “So you got me a lawyer, eh? It’s about time. Come on in, Northam. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Lawson opened the cell next to Purvis’s. “Sit in here to do your writing. I’d put you in there with him, ’cept I don’t trust him.” He waved Tolley into the small chamber. “I’ll leave you to it.” He exited the jail area, closing the door behind him.

  “Northam, eh? You part of that rich ranching famil
y south of town?” Purvis grinned as he studied Tolley up and down, probably taking his measure and figuring out how to manipulate him. Before Tolley could respond, he plopped himself back down on his canvas cot. “You’re a mite young to be a lawyer, ain’t ya? Why don’t you go home to Mama and send in a real man?”

  Sitting on the cot, Tolley chuckled. He’d been harassed by his older brothers and countless cowboys over the years, excellent training for dealing with this man’s insults. Instead of responding in kind, he looked around the room. “How’re they treating you?”

  With open windows on either end—neither within reach of a man in a cell—it smelled surprisingly fresh rather than stuffy. Purvis didn’t reek of sweat, so Lawson must provide an occasional bath for the prisoner. Tolley viewed the man’s few belongings. A couple of books. A Bible in pristine condition, probably donated by Reverend Thomas but clearly never opened. A harmonica on the shelf. A tin pitcher filled with water. A tin cup. Some clothes piled on the floor, a pair of boots lying haphazard beside them. He wore no belt or neckerchief, but his dust-free brown trousers, spotless tan shirt, clean-shaven cheeks and well-trimmed mustache proved Lawson a thoughtful jailer. More than the outlaw deserved from the man he might have tried to kill.

  “You get enough food? An occasional change of clothes?”

  Purvis perked up at Tolley’s continued questions. “Ain’t et no steak since they locked me up, but the sheriff’s old lady cooks pretty good. Mostly. Don’t care for those greens she’s always sendin’ over.” He kicked the pile of clothes with his sock-covered foot. “This here’s my laundry. You want to take it to her?”

  Tolley shook his head. He wasn’t about to become this man’s errand boy. “I’m sure the sheriff has it all worked out. How about you and I get busy?” He wrote “Jud Purvis” on the top of the page. “Sheriff Lawson has informed me that you are charged with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. What can you tell me about the situation?”

  Purvis gave him a sly look. “What’ve you heard?”

  Tolley set down his pencil and sighed, as his law professors had taught him. “That’s not the way it works, Jud. You don’t mind if I call you Jud, do you? You need to tell me your version of the events that brought you to this jail cell.”

  The man’s eyes shifted and narrowed as if he’d been caught off guard. “Sure, you can call me Jud.” He swiped a hand over his mouth. “Listen, I didn’t try to kill nobody. Never stole nothing, neither. I was just the lookout for Hardison’s gang.” His voice took on a slight whine. “Hardly knew the man. Was just trying to survive until I could get an honest job. You know anybody who needs a ranch hand?”

  “So when you were sentenced to prison in Kansas for bank robbery, you were just the lookout for the actual robbers? You didn’t shoot the teller, as the banker claimed?”

  Purvis’s face hardened again. “Lies. All lies.”

  “You didn’t threaten Abel Lawson when he arrested you in Kansas? Didn’t break out of prison and help Dathan Hardison and Deke Smith escape from Canon City Penitentiary? Didn’t try to make good on your threats against Lawson?”

  Purvis slumped back on his cot and stared at the ceiling. “If I hadn’t gone along with the other men, they’d’ve killed me.”

  “Your twin brother, Jed, would’ve killed you?”

  Purvis shot to his feet and grabbed the bars, his eyes blazing. “Listen, you punk, yer just tryin’ to git me to say something you can use against me.”

  Tolley hadn’t expected the outburst, but he managed to hide his startled reaction. “Mr. Purvis, I’m trying to get to the truth so I can build your defense. If you truly were dragged into the gang, truly only the lookout, then we need to prove it. I understand how stronger gang leaders can manipulate their weaker followers. Did your brother and the other men influence you? Threaten you?” He stood and moved close to the bars, staring hard into the shorter man’s eyes. “I’m trying to keep you from hanging.”

  Purvis seemed to wilt before his eyes. “Why? What do you get out of it? I got no money. Can’t pay you.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. Tell me your version of the day last December when Sheriff Lawson was gunned down while his posse searched for Hardison and the rest of you. The circuit judge won’t arrive until mid-July. We have a month to prepare your case. If you don’t want me to represent you, simply say so.” Tolley moved toward the open cell door.

  “No. Wait.” Purvis reached a hand through the bars, palm up in a pleading gesture. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  Tolley sat back on the canvas cot and prepared to write. Over the next hour, Purvis unfolded a story, some of it obviously untrue, of his forced involvement in Hardison’s gang. When he finished, Tolley thanked the sheriff and returned to his office to make further notes. By four o’clock, he had all he needed to build a case for reasonable doubt.

  Then it hit him. He’d forgotten his plan to propose to Laurie today. He wanted to get the matter settled, and if he hurried, he might have enough time to secure her agreement to their marriage before the other boarders arrived at Mrs. Foster’s house.

  * * *

  With Mrs. Foster watching from the settee, Laurie listened to a very tentative Anna Means stumble through her scales. After several minutes, Laurie set the girl’s open piano book on the music rest. Again, Anna faltered through her lesson.

  “How often and how long did you practice this week?” Laurie spoke gently, hoping to encourage Anna. She remembered the girl’s perpetual resistance to these lessons, but her brother and guardian, Nolan Means, insisted the young lady must develop the skill.

  Anna sighed, and her shoulders drooped. “Once or twice for maybe ten minutes each.” She glanced behind her to Mrs. Foster. “You both know I’d prefer to be out riding or seated on our front balcony painting the mountain views. Even Elly supports my wish to quit these lessons.” Since Nolan married Elly last December, the woman had provided some much-needed feminine influence over Anna.

  “I’d think five years is long enough to know whether this is what you want to do.” Laurie glanced at Mrs. Foster. “What do you think?” The suspension of lessons would reduce the lady’s income.

  “I’ve hinted that Anna’s talents don’t lie in this direction.” She grimaced and gripped her splinted broken arm. “Perhaps it’s time to tell Nolan right out.”

  “Would you?” Anna twirled around on the stool to face Mrs. Foster. “I’ll leave my music here for another student.” She hurried over to kiss the older woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Thank you!” She gathered her reticule and dashed from the house.

  Laurie laughed as she joined Mrs. Foster on the settee. “Isn’t it funny how I’ve worked so hard to shed my tomboy ways, and she’s so eager to embrace them?”

  Mrs. Foster chuckled. “Indeed, that’s—”

  “Laurie?” Tolley barged into the house with the same energy with which Anna departed. Appearing in the hallway outside the open pocket doors, he skidded to an abrupt halt. “Mrs. Foster!” Disappointment flitted across his face, but he quickly covered it with a genuine smile. “How good to see you up and about.”

  She laughed softly. “Up but not about too much.” She patted Laurie’s hand. “Thank you for bringing me downstairs, but I think I’ve done enough for one day.”

  “Of course. Tolley, would you help me?”

  Between the two of them, they escorted Mrs. Foster back up to her room and settled her comfortably in bed. As they exited her bedroom, Tolley checked his pocket watch and then gripped Laurie’s hand.

  “Will you go down to the parlor with me for a few minutes?” Smiling broadly, he seemed nearly breathless with excitement.

  “All right. I’m expecting another piano student soon.”

  “Ah.” He sighed. “That’s all right. This will only take a minute.”

  When they reached the pa
rlor, he directed her to the settee and sat beside her. He gazed into her eyes with an odd intensity. Was this the same man who’d avoided being alone with her for the past few days?

  “What is it, Tolley? Did something wonderful happen at your office today?”

  He grinned. “Not particularly, but I’m hoping something wonderful will happen right now.”

  “What might that be?” Perhaps he was going to offer some help around the house.

  “Laurie, will you—”

  “Hello, Miss Laurie.” Seven-year-old Molly Starling appeared in the hall. None of the students ever knocked on the door. “I’m ready for my lesson.”

  Tolley sagged against the settee back and groaned softly.

  Laurie sent him a scolding glare before hurrying over to greet the child with a brief hug. “Come right in, Molly. We can get started as soon as I put my chicken pie in the oven. You go ahead and get your fingers warmed up.”

  She walked through the adjoining dining room and the swinging kitchen door. Before the door could close behind her, Tolley grabbed it and followed her.

  She stoked the fire and added a medium-sized log. “Would you fetch me the chicken pie from the icebox?”

  “Sure.” He retrieved the unbaked pie she’d assembled earlier and handed it to her. “Laurie, I have to ask you an important question.”

  “Miss Laurie?” Molly entered the kitchen, music in hand. “May I try this book that was sitting on the piano?”

  “Yes, indeed. I think you’re ready for the next level.” She glanced at the book. “Try the first song.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Molly waited while Laurie shoved the pie tin into the oven.

  Tolley’s posture slumped. “I’ll talk to you later, Laurie.”

  Oh, dear. He’d been so happy when he came home. What did he want to ask her? While her curiosity was piqued, the matter would simply have to wait until later.