by Erin Johnson
“You didn’t hear what happened to Caroline Abrams?”
Emily’s mother? Normally Grace ignored gossip but this she had to hear. Her heart quickened as she asked. “What’s happened?” She braced herself for the worst.
The woman lowered her voice. “A dapper gentleman came calling on her last night, pretending to be lost, but then he shoved his way into Caroline’s cabin and tried to force himself on her.”
Grace went white. “Is she all right? And what about Emily?”
“I think they’re both all right; must have been a lucky escape. Caroline sent word she wouldn’t be in to work today, though. All I know is they call the man ‘Black Coat’ on account of his dapper clothes. Looks like a fine gentleman in his black frock coat and gray silk vest with some swirly design on it. Tries to romance the ladies first, then steals from them. Hilda says he done preyed on other widows out Tombstone’s way.”
“I’d better check on Caroline and Emily,” Grace said, rushing outside, where she almost bumped into Deputy Clayton.
“Whoa there.” Clayton grasped her arm to steady her. “Grace! Where are you rushing? Off to chase another outlaw?” He chuckled.
“Deputy, I’m glad you’re here. You investigating this Black Coat attack? I hear he’s been causing trouble round Tombstone too.”
“Who? Oh, the man bothering the widows?” Deputy Clayton shook his head. “No, no. I’m here for the sheriff’s help. My posse is all working the bank robbery in the next county. We’re drafting sheriff’s departments from around the area to help locate the perpetrators.”
Grace looked at him, shocked. “But surely you have someone working the Black Coat case? He’s attacking vulnerable women.”
Clayton sighed apologetically. “I just don’t have anyone available right now. The only men not on this bank case are the best bounty hunters in the state — the Watkins brothers.”
She almost choked. The most notorious bounty hunters in the state was more like it.
“Thing is, I need the Watkinses to guard and transport a fugitive across state lines to Nevada.”
“So no one’s looking for Black Coat?”
The deputy’s cheeks reddened. “I do what I can to try and keep the local women safe, but it’d be best for widows to come into town and not be out on their own. Can’t imagine why any woman would put herself at risk like that. Why don’t you spread the word a little, if you can?”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “The sheriff here in Bisbee won’t be looking into it either?”
“I told you.” The deputy’s voice sharpened with impatience. “We’re all needed to catch those bank robbers. Like I say, maybe you could warn the women to stay in town until Black Coat is apprehended.”
With that, he tipped his hat and rushed toward the sheriff’s office.
Grace stared after him. She would saddle up Bullet and check on Emily and Caroline herself, and see that they moved into town. But she had no idea which other women lived alone in the hills outside Bisbee. How could she possibly find and warn them?
“Grace?” Reverend Byington hurried up to her. “I’m so glad I found you. I’ve been counseling Caroline Abrams and her young daughter. Caroline is so distraught she can hardly speak, and Emily insists that they both need to see you.”
She nodded quickly. “I was just heading out to their homestead.”
The preacher gestured toward a nearby boarding house. “I’ve convinced them to stay here for a few days. It’s not safe in the hills with that outlaw running loose.”
“And the lawmen not chasing him,” Grace muttered.
Reverend Byington raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Deputy Clayton insists they have a more important case — a bank robbery.” Her tone was so sarcastic that the preacher glanced at her in surprise. “And according to him, the best bounty hunters in the state” — Grace choked on the words — “the Watkins brothers, are transporting a fugitive across state lines. So everyone’s too busy.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the preacher murmured, and the sympathy in his eyes indicated that he wasn’t only referring to the lack of law enforcement.
“It’s more than unfortunate,” Grace burst out. “It’s criminal that women and children aren’t important enough to protect.”
“Now, now, my dear. I’m sure they care about the victims. They’re already overworked —”
“All Deputy Clayton offered as a solution was to tell the women who live alone to come into town.”
“Well, that’s an excellent idea. In fact, I’ll take up a collection to pay their expenses, and then go out to warn them. I think I know where most of the vulnerable families are in the area.”
Grace shook her head. “But that doesn’t solve the problem. What about this Black Coat? He might get away while the lawmen are busy.”
“I’ll make it a matter of prayer.”
She wanted to shout that prayer didn’t help. Hadn’t she prayed that her parents would survive? If prayer worked, why did so many bad things keep happening? Had Caroline prayed for safety?
“For now,” the preacher continued, “would you come with me to see Caroline and her daughter?”
“Of course.”
Grace accompanied Reverend Byington to the boarding house, where Caroline sat huddled on a sofa in the parlor, sobbing.
Emily sat beside her mother, patting her shoulder, but when they entered, the little girl jumped up and hurried toward them.
“Grace!” She grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the sofa. “Ma, Grace is here. She’ll help us.”
The preacher slowly lowered himself into a nearby chair, but Grace just stood awkwardly as Caroline lifted her head, swabbed at her watery eyes with a handkerchief, and eyed Grace for a moment. Then in a tear-choked voice, she said, “My daughter is convinced you can help us. I’m sorry she dragged you over here. There’s nothing you can do.”
Rather than contradict her, Grace asked gently, “What happened, Mrs. Abrams?”
Caroline shook her head and buried her face in her handkerchief.
Emily pulled Grace to the other end of the sofa. “I’ll tell you,” she said quietly. “Ma’s too upset.”
Grace sat down and looked at Emily encouragingly as she began.
“We were finishing dinner when this man knocked on the door. Ma didn’t want to answer but, he called out that he was lost. She told me to go up into the attic.”
“And did you?” Knowing how inquisitive Emily was, Grace doubted that she’d obeyed.
The girl glanced at her mother. “I went . . . but I peeked downstairs. Ma opened the door only a little ways, but the man shoved it open the whole way and grabbed her arms. Then he pushed her onto the floor.”
Caroline sobbed a little louder, and Emily turned to her. “I didn’t let him hurt you, did I, Ma?” She turned back to Grace. “I grabbed the fire poker and whacked him on the back and head. He howled and let go of her —”
Caroline interrupted. “Emily,” she said, her voice shaking, “you know you shouldn’t have done something so dangerous.”
“But I saved you.”
Her mother sniffed again but pulled her daughter close to her. “He could have shot you. Shot us both,” she scolded, though her voice was filled with love.
“But he didn’t. I kept hitting him. He tried to grab me, but I kept jumping out of his way.” She turned to Grace again. “That’s what bounty hunters do, isn’t it?”
“Well . . .” She certainly didn’t want to encourage the little girl to be rash. “Bounty hunters must be very, very careful, Emily. Your mother’s right, it could have been really dangerous.”
She looked miffed. “I was careful. I was careful not to get caught. Right, Ma?”
“Oh, Emily . . .” Caroline shook her head.
The girl thrust out her lower lip
. “I was being brave. Wasn’t I, Grace?”
“I’m sure you were, but your ma is worried that you could have been hurt. And she wouldn’t want to lose you.”
Emily’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Like my pa?”
Grace sent a questioning look toward the preacher.
He looked somber. “I buried William Abrams a few months ago.”
She rested a hand on the little girl’s knee. “Yes, like your pa,” she said softly. “No wonder your ma is so upset.”
“That thief stole my husband’s pocket watch and all the horses,” Caroline told Grace, more tears threatening. “The only things I had left of William.” She twisted her damp handkerchief into knots between her fingers.
“I’m so sorry.” She knew what it was like to lose every tangible connection to your loved ones. The anguish of thinking she had lost the only picture of her family was still fresh in her mind.
If it hadn’t been for Reverend Byington finding it in the desert, it would have been gone forever.
Emily broke into Grace’s thoughts. “You can find that man, can’t you, Grace? You’ll get back the horses and Pa’s watch. You’re the best bounty hunter in the whole state. Right?” She looked to Reverend Byington for confirmation.
“Grace has certainly captured quite a few outlaws in a few short months,” he said, though his face held worry.
“You have?” Caroline’s strangled voice held a note of disbelief.
“I told you that, Ma.” Emily leaned close to Grace and confided, “I can tell you what he looks like. I’ve been practicing by memorizing those wanted posters.”
Grace looked at her keenly. Could this little girl really have a good description?
“Go on.”
“Well, he had bushy eyebrows that almost met in the middle, and a moustache like this.” Emily drew a finger under her nose and curved it down. “And his nose was crooked right here.” She pointed to the bridge of her own nose. “Oh, and he had a white scar.” She traced a short line across her chin.
“That’s excellent,” Grace told her. “You really are observant.”
Reverend Byington rose. “I need to warn other widows in the area who are living alone to come into town until the man is caught,” he said quietly, then turned toward Caroline. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
“Oh, preacher, I can’t be beholden to you like this. I want to pay my own bill but . . .” Her tears started again. “All our money was tied up in those horses. I planned to sell them so Emily and I could go back East to live with my family . . .”
Grace’s heart ached for Caroline. She also knew how it felt to lose everything and to be beholden to the preacher. As much as she wanted to find the Guiltless Gang, she had to help Emily and her mother first. And she had an idea of how to do that.
Grace stood as Byington went to the door. He eyed her suspiciously.
“Could I accompany you to warn the widows?” she asked innocently.
The preacher’s gaze pinned her. The concern in his eyes made her squirm, but she knew she couldn’t let that criminal hurt anyone else.
She’d find Black Coat, and when she did, she’d also be able to help Caroline get to the East Coast where she and Emily would be safer. Once there, the little girl would soon forget all about bounty hunting.
Grace just had to put her idea into action first — and she couldn’t have the preacher trying to stop her. He’d never agree to her plan for luring the criminal into a honey trap.
But she’d need an empty cabin for her plan to work . . .
CHAPTER 8
By the time she and Reverend Byington returned to town with the vulnerable women from the surrounding areas, Grace had already selected the perfect cabin in which to put her plan into action. She bid farewell to the preacher and the women, then made her way to the general store for supplies — but as she walked through the door, she collided into someone. Someone tall, tanned, and muscular, with beautiful dark eyes and a broad-brimmed hat that contrasted with his buckskin clothing . . .
“Joe?”
He grasped her arm to prevent her from falling, and Grace’s breath caught in her throat. Being so close to him, feeling the warmth of his touch, brought back a rush of memories that set every nerve tingling. But as soon as he realized it was her, Joe’s eyes widened and he flinched. He yanked back his hand as if he’d been bitten by a snake. Then he brushed past her without a word.
So he did hate her? Grace felt as if her insides were shriveling.
She turned and stared after him. What was he doing in Bisbee?
“Joe, wait,” she called. He stopped but didn’t face her.
“What?” His voice had a rough, harsh edge.
“C-can we talk?”
“About what?”
His clipped tone made it clear he had no interest in speaking to her and that the burning questions in her heart were better left unsaid. Still, she couldn’t let him walk off without at least trying to explain. She marched down the sidewalk determinedly, her boots clunking on the wooden planks, and stepped in front of Joe, forcing him to look at her. But once she’d reached him, her bravado waned once again. “Uh . . . wh-what brings you to Bisbee?”
“Getting supplies.”
The stiffness of his mouth and the way Joe avoided her eyes only made Grace ache for him more. “Oh? Reverend Byington said you bought supplies for the Ndeh last week. They ran out already?”
Joe’s cheeks flushed and he shifted from side to side. “Um, no. Not exactly.”
What did that mean?
“It’s just that . . . well, I needed supplies for myself,” he said, shuffling his moccasins on the wooden sidewalk.
Grace felt her eyebrows draw together in confusion. He couldn’t buy those supplies in Tombstone? Joe shouldered his heavy pack and stared off into the distance. His face was almost as crimson as the bandana around his neck.
“I needed some time alone, so I planned to go camping,” he continued, risking a glance at her. His expression seemed to run through a whole range of emotions, and Grace’s heartbeat doubled. “I should be going —”
She placed a hand on his arm. “Joe, please . . . don’t go. Can’t we talk, just for a moment?”
“Nothing to talk about.”
The hurt that lay behind his words cut her to ribbons. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but how could she convince him of that?
“Couldn’t we just go into the saloon and get a drink? Then you can be on your way.”
“Right now?”
Was it her imagination, or did he sound hopeful?
“Yes. I can come back later to buy my supplies.”
Joe shrugged, clearly working to seem indifferent.
When they were settled at a table with a bottle of sarsaparilla, Grace reached across the table and tentatively set her hand on his. He stared down at it like he couldn’t believe it was there, but he didn’t move his hand away.
“Joe, I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Truly I didn’t.” How could she explain why she left when she wasn’t completely sure herself? Now that he was there, in front of her, it seemed like madness to consider not being with him. She took a deep breath, trying to gain control of her emotions.
He swallowed hard. “It’s all right.” His voice was husky, so husky that Grace knew he didn’t mean what he’d said.
“The last thing I wanted to do was leave you, but —”
“Then why did you?”
“You know why,” she said. She didn’t know how to say it, so she put it as simply as she could. “I have to find the Guiltless Gang.”
Joe stared straight into her eyes. “It’s not your job to bring them in, Grace. You need to just . . .” He tailed off, letting out a short burst of air exasperatedly. “You have to let go of this desire for revenge.”
She didn’t break his stare, but she shook her head. “I won’t rest until every last one of those murderers is behind bars . . . I can’t,” she said quietly.
Joe pulled his hand from hers and poured their drinks, then thumped the bottle down on the table. “Even though I disagreed with what you were doing, I understood how you felt. I still do. That’s why I offered to accompany you. But then when I woke up and found you gone . . . ?” He pursed his lips and stared off into space, shaking his own head now.
Grace ran a finger around the rim of her glass. The condensation wet her fingertips and she rubbed the moisture on her heated cheeks. “I-I got scared —”
“Scared?” Joe whispered. “Of what? I’d never hurt you.”
“Not of being hurt.” Grace hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him the full reason why she’d left, but it wasn’t fair to let him think it was his fault. She stared down at the table and took a deep breath. “I was scared of what I felt for you. Too scared to stay. Too scared to have you travel with me. I . . . I was worried my feelings for you would stop me from my mission.”
She glanced up and Joe stared back at her, his eyes softening at her confession. “But I already told you I wouldn’t,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to go with you. To protect you.”
Grace felt her shoulders slump. That was part of the problem; love and revenge didn’t mix. She wanted — needed — to take care of herself and handle her own problems.
“Joe, I was afraid I’d go soft. Too soft to track criminals, to do what needs to be done without worrying that my actions might hurt you. If it wasn’t for all this, I would never have left. But I did it because I thought I’d lose my drive for revenge.” She paused for a moment, embarrassment sending hot prickles up the back of her neck. “Whenever I’m around you, I become a different person. Softer, more . . . gentle.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” For the first time since she’d bumped into him, Joe’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Same thing happens to me.”
“It does?” The tenderness in his eyes made Grace melt inside like the puddle of water under her glass. Abruptly, she broke their gaze. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of.
