Down in the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  “They’re looking for Miss Wright,” James whispered urgently when he sat back down. “I didn’t tell them nothin’ ’cause I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

  Howerton picked up his glass, noticing the strangers were all focused directly on him. “They know you lied, you idiot. You can’t lie worth a damn.” He downed his drink and set it down hard. “Pour me another.”

  The leader of the group made a beeline for their table. “I wonder if you can help me,” he said to Howerton. “I’m looking for a friend,” he said, offering a photograph. “Maybe you know her.”

  Howerton took the photograph in hand. It was of Emeline Wright, dressed in an elegant gown of very recent fashion. He looked up at the man. “Why are you looking for her?”

  “I think I mentioned . . . she’s a friend.”

  Howerton handed the photograph back. “Who forgot to tell you where she was?”

  The man smiled, but no warmth touched his eyes. “I’m close, aren’t I?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”

  It was the man’s way of ending the conversation, of course. Sonny recognized the tone, having used it hundreds of times himself. “Well, thank you for your time.” He tipped his hat and walked back to the bar, looking around as he went. Surely someone would be interested in exchanging a little information for coin. It just had to be handled discreetly. Already he sensed an order not to speak with them going around. As if that would stop him.

  “Yeah, I know who she is,” Mitchell confirmed a few hours later. “So what?”

  Sonny held up a twenty-dollar piece. It was late, almost everyone was gone, and the few who were left were drunk. He had no time or energy left to waste on nonsense. “Then what’s her name?”

  “Emeline Wright,” Mitchell replied. He was practically salivating at the sight of the gold piece. “Whatcha want her for?”

  “That’s none of your concern.” Sonny’s expression, which had turned victorious only a moment before, now grew chilly. He withdrew the money.

  “Okay, okay,” Mitchell said. “Never mind. I can take you to her. She’s with my brother, matter of fact. I mean, he works for her.”

  “Where?”

  “On her farm. It was her uncle’s place, but he died not too long ago.”

  A farm? Sonny couldn’t picture it. “Are you sure?”

  “Damn sure.”

  “Because you get the money after I get possession.”

  Mitchell frowned. “How do I know I’ll get it then?”

  Sonny pocketed the money. “You’ll get it. Now, tell me what you know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Doll looked up from the list she was making as someone knocked on the front door. She rose from the kitchen table and went to get it. She opened the door to a man in his twenties with blue-gray eyes and a scraggly beard, hat in hand.

  “Morning, ma’am,” he said. “Is Miss Wright here?”

  “She’s here,” Doll replied. “She lives here. Who are you?”

  “Can I speak with her?”

  Doll sensed rather than heard Em behind her, but when she turned, the expression on Em’s face troubled her to the extent that she looked back to the stranger with an accusing glare.

  “It’s alright,” Em assured Doll as she moved to the door. “This is Tommy’s brother.”

  Doll huffed in disbelief. “My left foot,” she muttered under her breath.

  “We’ll talk outside,” Em said to Mitchell. She stepped out and shut the door behind her, giving Doll a look.

  “What do you want?” Em asked as she crossed her arms.

  “I come to apologize. To you and my brother. I’m real sorry about what happened. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I want to make it up to both of you.”

  “I want nothing to do with you, but you should talk to Tommy.”

  “Yeah, I want to. Where’s he at?”

  “They’re building a barn. That way.” Em pointed.

  He shifted on his feet. “Truth is, I don’t have a lot of time today. Maybe I’ll come out tomorrow or the next day.”

  “He’s leaving in the morning. They all are. Going after cattle and they’ll be gone a few days. If you want to talk to him, you should do it today.”

  Mitchell nodded. “I will, then. Thank you, ma’am. And, like I said, I’m awful sorry about before. I wish I could take it back.” He put his hat on, tipped it to her, and walked in the direction she’d pointed.

  Em watched him go, baffled by how little similarity there was between him and Tommy. She heard a wagon approach and turned to see Wayne Jones approaching. She waved at him and ducked inside to tell Doll he was here.

  Sonny lowered his binoculars, having seen Em through them. Apparently, farm life agreed with her because she looked more beautiful than ever. Mitchell Medlin was headed back to report with an irritating, shit-eating grin on his face. The man was pure scum. “Well?” Sonny demanded, when he got close.

  “You’ll want to get her tomorrow,” Mitchell said.

  “Why is that?”

  “’Cause all the men, including my brother, are going to be gone. They’re leaving for a few days.”

  “What time?”

  “First thing in the morning.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll take my money now,” Mitchell said.

  “You can take half now and half after I’ve collected her.”

  “Hey, now, I got work, Mr. Peterson. I cain’t be sneaking off—”

  “Half now, half tomorrow. The rest is your problem.”

  Tommy had made a wide circle around the man he’d spotted spying on the house, and now he silently closed in on him. He’d been up at the tobacco barn when he’d spotted the man as he lay in wait.

  A hunter who had, on occasion, been hunted, Briar Lindley heard him approach and sprang up with his gun drawn. The man before him was unarmed, so he slowly lowered his. “Shouldn’t sneak up on a man,” he warned.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Tommy returned.

  “Just who the hell are you?”

  “Tommy Medlin.”

  “Oh, of the Martin-Medlin Farm?” Briar mocked.

  “That’s right. And you’re Briar Lindley.”

  “Yeah. That’s right, too. Ain’t that nice? We know each other.”

  “I know what happened before and it’s not going to happen again.”

  Briar considered him. “I don’t think you’re married to her or nothin’. You’re sleeping in that fancy new longhouse down there. So, what the hell is it to you what I do?”

  “I’m her friend.”

  Briar smiled broadly. “Her friend? Ain’t that sweet.”

  “You try to get near her again, I’ll kill you,” Tommy said evenly.

  Briar grinned and then holstered his gun. “You’ll kill me? You’ll kill me? Mister, the only reason you’re still breathing, is ’cause you ain’t slick. You know what I mean? I hate a slick son of a bitch. Now, you’re misguided, but you ain’t slick.”

  “Stay away from her,” Tommy warned again.

  Briar’s smile dimmed. “I have stayed away from her!”

  “What are you watching her for?”

  “That’s my business. So, how you think you’re gonna kill me?” Briar challenged.

  “I don’t know.”

  The man’s honesty and lack of bravado impressed Briar against his will. “What? You protect her? Is that your job?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You love her?” Tommy didn’t answer, but Briar saw a moment of uncensored pain in the blue eyes. “Yeah, you love her.” He reached for the telescope and then studied Tommy a moment more. “Be careful, Tom Medlin. She creeps under your skin and you can’t shake her. Not for nothin’.” He walked forward with a slight limp, but stopped when they were shoulder-to-shoulder to make a point. “My pa forbade me to go near her again, so I won’t. Has nothing to do with what you say.” He waited until he got a nod, confirming that To
m Medlin had understood, then he walked on.

  At supper, Em noticed how preoccupied Tommy was and assumed it was due to the impending cattle drive and possibly the visit from his brother. She wanted to know how the meeting had gone, but resisted asking. After all, when he wanted to, he’d tell her about it. She was the first to leave the chow hall after supper. No one else seemed inclined to break up the revelry. Midway back to the house, Tommy caught up to her, although they didn’t stop walking. It was too cold to stand still, especially with the wind blowing.

  “We’re going in the morning,” he reminded her.

  Since the drive to get twenty-five head of cattle for use on the farm was practically all that had been discussed for days, she nearly laughed. “Oh, you are?” she teased instead. “Tomorrow, you say?”

  “It’s only a couple days’ ride there, but the drive will take longer getting back,” he replied, ignoring her attempt at humor.

  “I promise not to forget any of the chores or the animals.”

  “It’s not that.”

  They walked up the steps and he opened the door for her. It was a relief to step into the warmth of the house. “Everything will be fine here,” she assured him after he’d shut it. The only light came from the woodstove in the kitchen, the fire in the parlor and a single gas lamp on the wall. “When you get back, all the buildings will be standing, and all living things will still be . . . alive. Don’t worry.”

  He pulled off his hat, clearly bothered by something. “I want you to be careful,” he said solemnly.

  Her smirk vanished, because he was sincerely concerned. “I will.”

  “Keep a gun near you.”

  She cocked her head, wondering why he’d worked himself into such a state. It had to have been the visit from Mitchell. “I will. I’ll be fine.”

  He shifted on his feet. “I wish you could come with us.”

  She felt a rush of warmth and affection that made her chest constrict. “Me, too.” She smiled and shrugged. “Next time.”

  He nodded, but seemed reluctant to go.

  “You be careful, too,” she said, reaching out and lightly touching his chest with both hands. It was a momentary touch through her gloves and his coat, but it still felt personal.

  “I will,” he pledged. He put his hat back on. “I’d best let you get to bed.”

  “You, too,” she said, equally reluctant to let him go. “You’ll be getting an early start.”

  “Keep the gun close,” he said again.

  This was definitely about Mitchell. Even though he’d come to make amends, Tommy hadn’t fully bought it. “Is there . . . anything you want to talk about?” she asked. “Because you can.”

  “I know.”

  Apparently, he was not ready to discuss it and she was not going to push. “Anytime you have anything to talk about—”

  “I know,” he repeated. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You just take care of yourself. We’ll be back as quick as we can get back.” He reached for the doorknob. “’Night.”

  “Good night,” she returned wistfully, wishing she had the courage to pull him back and keep him there. But he was already shutting the door behind him. For several seconds, she couldn’t move. She just stared at the door, wishing it would reopen.

  “Honey? Emmy?” Doll said, waking Em from a heavy sleep.

  Em turned over and pulled herself upright. Doll was holding a candle and wearing a coat. “What’s wrong?” Em asked in a husky voice.

  “Wayne’s come to fetch me. Fiona’s having the baby.”

  “Oh!”

  “She seems to think she can’t do it without me.”

  “Go,” Em exclaimed. “Of course. She needs you.”

  “I’ll be back maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. Or I’ll send word.”

  Em nodded. “We’ll be fine here. Just take care of Fiona.”

  “Alright, honey. Go back to sleep.”

  Doll turned and headed from the room, the light of the candle illuminating her way. Darkness was left in her wake, especially as the older woman descended the stairs and crossed to the kitchen. Em watched and then listened to the front door open and close and then she listened to the quiet. She lay back down and tugged the covers more snugly around her, but sleep eluded her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  By the time Em got up and moving the next morning, everyone was gone and the quiet was unnerving. She’d gotten used to having people around. She tried to go about her usual activities, but everything she did seemed louder than usual—the clanking of the skillet, the scrape of a chair. She never would have noticed the sounds had Doll been talking and the men around.

  She made a small batch of biscuits and fried a slice of ham, wondering about Tommy’s anxiousness the night before. Maybe she should have pushed to learn how the meeting had gone. When he got back, she would. She carried her plate to the table and sat to eat, only to discover she had no appetite. She picked at the food and then decided to leave it and go feed the animals. She’d be hungry later—and activity would ease her mind.

  She rose, but the sound of heavy boot steps on the porch made her freeze. She glanced at the gun next to the door, seized by alarm, but the door was thrown open before she’d had a chance to move. Her worst nightmare stood outside. She went rigid with fear, couldn’t breathe. The expression on his face was one she remembered well. On the surface, he was calm, but beneath that, he was seething. He was perfectly in control, until such time that he chose to abandon it. Her knees threatened to buckle. It was only her grip on the table in front of her that prevented it.

  Somehow, he’d found her.

  He stepped inside and shut the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. “I offer a palace and you choose a pigsty.”

  She let go of the table and took an unsteady step backward.

  “A farm,” he mused thoughtfully as he came forward. “And an uncle who raised you from the time you were a girl. You never mentioned it.” He reached the table and looked at her plate. “You weren’t hungry?” he asked conversationally.

  She couldn’t think for the panic that gripped her. “I have to feed the animals,” she said breathlessly.

  He pulled off his gloves as he came around the table toward her. He stopped, tossed the gloves on the table and reached for the biscuit on her plate. “You don’t need to feed the animals today.”

  He took a bite and Em glimpsed men outside the window. How many did he have with him?

  Sonny tossed the biscuit onto the table. “Thinking of running again?” He began unbuttoning his coat. “You can if you want, but there’s a public whipping in it for your trouble. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  A painful shiver traveled the length of her spine and tears sprang to her eyes. “Why? Why go to all this trouble?” she bit out. She was having trouble speaking. Having trouble making her jaw work.

  “You didn’t leave me a choice,” he replied in a reasonable tone. “I didn’t get to where I am by allowing anyone to make a fool of me. I believe I explained that to you before. Don’t you remember?”

  He was going to kill her, she realized. Maybe he’d only hurt her, at first. But she’d gone too far. He was going to kill her. Her mind raced for ways to fight him. She couldn’t get to the gun, but what about a knife? Or the candlestick. The heavy pewter candlestick on the table. If she could grab hold of it, she’d hit him and then run out the back. If she could make it into the woods, she might have a chance. She knew the woods. She knew hiding places.

  Sonny slipped off his coat and set it on the kitchen chair. “As you can probably imagine, I’m curious as to how you managed it.”

  She took a step away from him, and yet the candlestick had to stay within reach. “Do you want to sit down?” she asked, stammering slightly. The expression on his face turned so menacing that she quickly added, “W-while I tell you?”

  He flexed his hands, and she felt herself shaking. “I . . . I slipped something in the door to stop the lock from cat
ching.”

  He nodded. “My knife. It was a clever move. And then?”

  “I went out the side door.”

  “Wearing what?”

  He was pressing closer, sucking up all the air around him. She couldn’t keep herself from edging away from him, around the table. “My robe. I had something stashed in the basement.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you’d been planning for some time.”

  She nodded stiffly. There was no point in denying it.

  “Who helped you?” he demanded coldly.

  She shook her head. “No one.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I just . . . I ran and then I took a horse. I just ran.”

  He grabbed hold of her throat so quickly, she didn’t even see it coming. Instinctively, she wrapped both hands around his wrist. “I don’t think you’ll run again,” he swore as his fingers tightened.

  He was going to kill her. He’d come all this way to kill her. She reached behind herself with one hand, desperately feeling for the candlestick, but black dots were already dancing before her eyes. She touched cold metal, but she couldn’t close her fist on it.

  He released her abruptly, a disgusted look on his face. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to make it that easy on you.”

  She grabbed hold of the candlestick and swung with all her might. It made a sound clunk as it made contact with the side of his head. Blood gushed from the wound, his face went stark white and his eyes lost focus, but he remained on his feet. Then he dropped onto his knees before crumpling in a heap.

  She let out a shuddering breath as the candlestick slipped from her grasp. She whirled around and looked out the window, trying to determine the best course of action. Her instinct was to slip out the back door and run, but if she did, they’d probably see her. They’d catch her and, if Sonny were dead, they’d kill her. If he were alive, he’d kill her.