Down in the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “The day before you left. You were working on the tobacco barn?”

  His expression darkened.

  “And Mitchell came . . . t-to apologize.”

  “You saw him?”

  Em nodded stiffly. “He said he came to apologize, so I told him where you were. He said maybe he’d see you the next day, and I told him you were leaving. That he shouldn’t wait. I thought he was going right over to the barn.”

  Tommy felt prickles of anger all over his body because, somehow, Mitchell had been part of it all. He’d taken part in setting Em up for Peterson.

  “He didn’t see you?” she asked. “He didn’t . . . come find you?”

  Tommy shook his head. “No. Why didn’t you say something?”

  She looked crushed. “I should have. I should have said something. I thought maybe you’d had words and you needed time. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”

  He reached out and took hold of her arms. “Hey, it’s alright.”

  Her eyes filled. “I should have said something and maybe—”

  He brushed her hair back. “You can’t think that way. What’s done is done. The man that hurt you is dead and I’ll settle things with my brother. He’s done some bad things, and Mr. Howerton’s going after him. Him and Blue.” He paused. “He’ll be arrested and tried, but even if he walks, he’ll pay. I’ll make sure he pays.”

  “I don’t want you hurt,” she began.

  “And I won’t see you hurt,” he pledged, pulling her into his arms. “Not ever again.”

  After supper, Tommy left her to wash and shave, because he was going to lie beside her tonight if she allowed it. Since the others would probably be back tomorrow, there might never be another opportunity. He knew he’d never make love to her again. That had been a one-time thing, a mistake on her part. She called him a partner, but he wasn’t. Not really. No matter what the sign said. That had just been a nice gesture. A grand gift. A partner implied equality, and he wasn’t her equal. She belonged with men like Howerton and Sonny Peterson, not him. But she needed him now, which gave him the opportunity to lie beside her and hold her.

  When he went back to the house and climbed the steps to the loft, Em was curled up on her side. The room smelled softly of powder and her. He moved forward, knowing she wasn’t sleeping. He knew her breathing when she slept. He pulled back the covers and sat. She didn’t say anything, so he stretched out beside her and pulled the covers over him. He remained still for a few moments, waiting for his heart to slow its pace before he put an arm around her. Instead, she rolled over and hugged her body to his side.

  Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her. He started to reassure her that she was safe, that he would always be there to protect her, but he didn’t want to say anything that wasn’t true, and he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wasn’t going to be arrested for Peterson’s murder. It hadn’t been murder, it had been self-defense, like Howerton said, but Sonny Peterson had been a powerful man, and the law seemed to apply itself differently to powerful men. As their body heat melded, her trembling subsided.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said softly.

  “You don’t have to do without me,” he replied, secretly praying it was true. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Promise?”

  He kissed her forehead. “Everything will be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

  It was quiet for a while except for an owl hooting in the distance.

  “Before I met you,” Em murmured, “right before, I was sitting outside with Ben and we saw this shooting star. It was . . . so amazingly beautiful.”

  He smiled. “I saw it, too.”

  “Really?”

  “I swear.”

  “Ben and I had been talking about the farm. Then we saw the star and he said he felt like all our problems had just been solved.”

  “I remember wishing for a different life. It was just for a second and then I told myself nothing would ever be different for me.”

  A hush fell between them before she spoke again. “That was quite a star, wasn’t it? We both got our wishes.”

  “Well, I did,” he said. “I don’t know that all our problems have been solved,” he said with a smile.

  She sighed and held him closer. “It feels like it,” she whispered.

  He nodded and smiled, because it did feel like it.

  Briar lowered his telescope and took another long swig from his flask. There was a full moon, so there was no doubt about seeing Tom Medlin go inside the house. Maybe they were married, after all. Goddamn. It should have been him.

  It was crazy how things had worked out. If Em hadn’t tried to help when little Bo died, his pa would have never known anything about her. Of course, he might not have known about her either and that was the day he’d decided she’d be his. Things had been going fine, too, until that damn rope snapped, followed by his leg. It had been a bad break, sending the bone right through the skin. “Goddamn, son-ofa-bitch break,” he muttered bitterly.

  He’d never fully recovered from it. He had a limp and his leg ached something fierce before it rained or whenever it was cold. His pa had been furious when it happened because, somehow, pretty little Emmy Wright had become a saint in his eyes.

  “You won’t touch her again,” his pa had ranted. “Am I understood?”

  “I’m gonna marry her,” Briar shouted back at him. He was in pain at the time because his leg was being set.

  “How? By us putting a goddamn shotgun to her head? No, by hell, we will not! If you was gonna marry her, you shoulda done it before you messed with her. Now you went and hurt her and you got hurt back. It’s over!”

  Unfortunately, the whole story had come out when Briar had shown up with his leg busted. Pa had made him repeat every bit of the explanation before his leg was seen to. When Briar revealed Em’s declaration that she’d never marry him, the matter was sealed for Xavier. “She didn’t mean it, Pa,” Briar cried. “She loves me. And I love her!”

  “You go near her again, I’ll break your other leg,” Xavier Lindley swore.

  When the break healed, as much as it would ever heal, Xavier arranged for him to marry one of the Davies girls. Marriage would help calm him down, Xavier declared. “Besides, it’s high time you produced some young’uns.”

  Briar had fought it, but his pa had prevailed. As usual. So he’d married Annie, the prettiest of the bunch, although she was nowhere as pretty as Em. She was nowhere as sweet or as smart, either. Annie had given birth to two sons so far. She’d also gotten fat as a cow.

  That’s where he wanted to be, he thought as he lifted the scope back to his eye. He wanted to be right where Tom Medlin was. Inside Em, unless he missed his guess. “Shoulda been me,” he wailed into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Blue snapped twigs and tossed them into the campfire.

  “You don’t have to snap ’em in half,” Mitchell complained.

  “I like snappin’ ’em.” Blue snapped another and tossed it in the fire.

  Mitchell glared at him and took a pull from his flask. “We got to get to a town.”

  “Hey, Mitchell. You think they’ll put our pictures on Wanted Posters?”

  “Hell, no. We ain’t that important. They’ll look for us a bit, ’cause of ole Johnny, but Howerton will want to get back to business quick as he can.”

  “I wish you hadn’t shot him,” Blue said.

  “He had it coming.”

  “People will think it was me,” Blue muttered.

  “Will not. You’re too big a pussy to kill somebody and everybody knows it. Naw, your style is to bash somebody’s face in with a two-by-four when they don’t see it comin’.”

  “That wasn’t all me,” Blue blustered.

  “That wasn’t all me,” Mitchell taunted.

  “I wouldn’t even be here if wasn’t for you!”

  “Stop your whining.”

 
“That’s goddamned gratitude for you,” Blue sulked.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t plan this,” Mitchell yelled. “I didn’t plan any of it.”

  “You think I did?” Blue yelled back. “I’m freezing my ass off. I’m probably wanted, too. Posters are probably being printed right now that say ‘Wanted, Dead or Alive.’”

  “I’ll tell you whose fault it is,” Mitchell ranted. “It’s that bitch, Emeline ain’t-I-too-good-for-anybody-else Wright. Every bit of trouble I’ve got into is ’cause of her. And I’ll tell you something else. I’m gonna get her back, if it’s the last thing I do. I’m going to screw her and then I’m gonna kill her.”

  “Are you crazy? We can’t go back there,” Blue said nervously.

  “Who said anything about we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What you mean, what do I mean? I don’t need you coming along and getting in my way.”

  “They catch you, they’ll hang you. Sure as shit.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t plan on lettin’ them catch me.”

  Blue studied Mitchell in the firelight, wondering how serious he was.

  “Damn, I’m hungry,” Mitchell complained.

  “You had the bigger squirrel.”

  “’Cause I’m bigger,” Mitchell snapped. “A bigger man needs more food.”

  Blue sighed. He was tired of the bickering. They were both miserable, and griping didn’t make it a bit better. “Maybe we’ll come to a town tomorrow.”

  “And maybe we won’t come to a town for a week,” Mitchell countered.

  “You don’t have to bite my head off.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I rescued you!”

  “Did I ask you to? Huh?”

  Blue couldn’t believe his ears. He wasn’t going to get the least little bit of credit. “You’re a piece of work, Mitchell Medlin.”

  “Think about it, though. If you hadn’t shown up with that gun, shaking like a little titmouse, then what would have happened? I’d have gotten docked some pay or I would have had to work a couple of Sundays or something.”

  “Or maybe you’d a’ got beat again,” Blue added.

  “For what? They couldn’t prove a damn thing. Probably nothing would have happened. I would have said, ‘Hey, I was only there to try and help Miss Wright. ’Course there was too many of them bad guys and I couldn’t do a damn thing. It’s not like that’s a crime.’”

  Blue shook his head. Only Mitchell could turn something like this around to be somebody else’s fault. “You didn’t have to shoot Johnny.”

  “I already told you, he had it coming. If he was sitting right here, right now, he’d say the same.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I doubt that,” Mitchell mocked, talking like an idiot.

  “You better stop doing that,” Blue warned.

  “Or what?”

  Blue glared at Mitchell, trembling with frustration.

  “Build up that fire,” Mitchell ordered. “Before we freeze to death.”

  “Mr. Howerton,” someone called from the door of the showroom. “Bud Ulrich and Lynn Green just rode in.”

  Howerton backed away from the sleek, black stallion being offered for sale. “Give me a minute,” he said to the owner before heading out. He didn’t have to go far, as Ulrich and Green were walking toward him.

  “They went into the hills,” Lynn Green reported when they met up.

  Howerton considered the news. “They’ll probably starve and freeze for a while and then be stupid enough to go into town and get caught.”

  “We can find them,” Bud spoke up. “They ain’t that careful.”

  “I’m not wasting any more manpower on a hunting expedition for the likes of them,” Howerton replied. “Posters are up in every town within a hundred miles, and a reward has been posted. They’ll surface. They’ll either die in the hills or they’ll surface.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bud replied.

  “Rest up today and report to Sam in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” both men replied.

  Tommy carried wood into the house and shut the door with his foot. “Thank you much,” Doll said without turning from the stove, where she was stirring a large pot of something that smelled savory. “Ham and beans for supper and some of my good corn bread,” she said. “How’s that sound?”

  “Good,” Tommy replied as he began stacking the wood in the box. When he finished, he walked closer to Doll. “How is she?” he asked quietly.

  “We’re getting there,” Doll replied softly with a wink and nod. “She’s sitting in there knitting.”

  “I’ll say hello,” he said as he started for the parlor.

  “Don’t hardly need my permission,” Doll quipped under her breath.

  Em sat in her favorite chair, staring out the window. The knitting rested in her lap. She heard Tommy as he walked in and looked over at him with an instant smile. “Hello.”

  “Hello.” He sat on the settee facing her. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  She didn’t look fine. She looked pale and thin, and she had circles beneath her eyes.

  “Doll and I might go see Fiona and the baby tomorrow,” she said.

  Tommy frowned worriedly. “I think we’re gonna get another storm.”

  She looked back outside. “I thought it looked like it.”

  “You think it’s going to snow some more, Tommy?” Doll called from the kitchen.

  Em looked back at him and grinned, which made his heart lurch. “’Fraid so,” Tommy replied, not taking his eyes off Em.

  “Me and Emmy were thinking about going to my sister’s to see Fiona and the babe.”

  “It may not be the best day tomorrow,” he called back.

  “Well, tomorrow or the next day or the next. We’ll get there, eventually.”

  “I can’t wait to see the baby,” Em said wistfully.

  Doll joined them, wiping her hands on her apron. “He’s a fat, healthy thing. And, Lord, what a pair of lungs.”

  “Who’s he look like?” Tommy asked.

  “He’s got some red fuzz on his head, but that’s about all of Fiona he got.”

  “I’ll bet she’s happy,” he said.

  She nodded. “She is. Tickled pink.”

  He looked back at Em. “You want to go down to the barn with me? Get some fresh air?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Too cold.”

  “It is that,” Doll agreed as she headed back to the kitchen. “Although the icicles hanging everywhere are awful pretty.”

  Tommy stood, because he still had plenty of work waiting.

  “We’ll get over to the chow hall for supper,” Doll called. “That’s about all the fresh air we need, I think.”

  Tommy was relieved to hear it. Em had been taking all her meals in the house since the attack. Em also rose and tugged her shawl close as she started back toward the kitchen with him.

  “Apple cobbler or bread pudding tonight?” Doll asked. “What do you think, Tommy?”

  “Cobbler.”

  She chuckled. “How’d I know you were going to say that?”

  “Because it’s his favorite,” Em said, knocking into him playfully.

  At least Em was trying to get back to normal. Surely that meant she’d eventually get there. “I’ll see you at dinner?” he said to her.

  She nodded.

  He put his hat on and started for the door. “You good on wood, now?” he asked Doll.

  “Wood the man or wood to burn?”

  He grinned. “To burn.”

  “Yep. We’re set.”

  “Did Wood make you mad, or something?” he asked.

  “Not recently. Though I’m not opposed to telling him when he does.”

  Tommy chuckled. “I didn’t think you were.” Tommy glanced back at Em and found her watching him, which made him feel good. She mouthed ‘bye,’ and he left, still picturing her sweet lips.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  March
18, 1882

  Midway to the chow hall kitchen, Em smiled as a breeze caressed her skin. It was mid-March, the world was turning green again, daffodils were sprouting and the farm was running smoothly. It was only a small operation, and probably always would be, but that was perfectly fine with her. A butterfly—that’s what she felt like. She’d been cocooned all winter, silent and afraid, but now she was free. Sonny no longer haunted her. She didn’t know when she’d stopped thinking about him and dwelling on the past, but she had. She was free.

  “You coming to help with dinner?” Doll asked as she walked from the cheese shack to the bunkhouse. The ‘cheese shack,’ a name Wood had come up with, was actually a newly built summer kitchen, but there hadn’t been a need for it yet, other than to make goat cheese, which Doll lovingly toiled over.

  “I am, and then I’m leaving.” She was taking the soft, white cheese to Mrs. Simpson, the manager of Wiley’s Restaurant to see if she wanted to purchase it. It would be the first time she’d been into town by herself in months, since before Christmas, and she was looking forward to it.

  Doll pulled open the screen door to the chow hall and held it for Em to walk through. “I just hung four more bags, so you tell ’em we can provide all the cheese they want and they’ll never taste better. You make sure she tastes it.”

  “I will.”

  In the kitchen, Em peeled potatoes as Doll chopped onions. “Sure is a pretty day,” Doll commented. “But I don’t know that it should be this warm, this quick. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the summer heat.”

  Em grinned. “It’s a beautiful day,” she agreed. And I am looking forward to summer, she thought. And to fall and winter and everything else.

  “Don’t you be giving away any of my secrets, now. That nosy Mrs. Simpson doesn’t need to know a thing about how we make that cheese.”

  “I don’t even know your secrets.”

  “You know enough and I’ll bet she asks,” she said, putting the knife down and sniffing hard. She blinked, and rubbed her stinging eyes with the backs of her hands. “Just you wait and see.”

  Em reached for the knife and another cutting board. “Your secrets are safe with me. Not that I know them, but even if I did.”