The sheriff sputtered. “Junie-May. I’ll paddle her behind until it glows. What’s Doreen doing with men’s breeches? Women.”
Letting her go and steadying himself by taking a deep breath, Buck took the bait. “All right, Petra, I’ll bite, what did you find?”
Standing on the bottom step made it possible for her gaze to come level with his. Her jaw relaxed and a sad expression crossed her face, like the moon disappearing behind a cloud. He wanted to scoop her up and take her to bed right then, right that minute. Damn.
She reached for him, then withdrew her hand and straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t go inside because someone’s in there. There were lights on in Beau’s study and in the basement. I got down on my belly to look in a basement window. Mr. Cummings is down there. He’s tied up, and he doesn’t look at all well.”
Buck grabbed her by the arm and pushed her up a couple more steps. “Go to bed, Petra. We’ll take it from here.”
Jerking free of his hold, she shoved him down the steps. He had to fight to keep his balance. “I won’t be sent to bed, Mathias Buxton. I’m going with you. Do you want to know who’s in Beau’s study? I think I know. It’s Kurt. I knew he wasn’t dead. I could feel it. He’s alive and in that house, Matt, and I’m going with you. I know how to get him to talk. You have to let me do this. I need to do this. It’s the only way I’m going to get my life back.”
Looking down on him, her hands on her hips, she should have been an imposing figure, instead Buck thought she looked silly, like a little kid playing grownup. God, she was stubborn, probably how she’d stayed alive when she should’ve died. The urge to take her over his knee and give her a good sound spanking was pretty powerful, but Buck didn’t have time now, maybe later—it might be fun to try.
“If Kurt is in that house, then it’s all the more reason for you to stay here, Petra. It’s dangerous. You could get killed.”
“As I have pointed out, so could you.”
He had a rejoinder this time, “I don’t have a son to care for, Petra. Think of Gabriel. Without you, what would happen to him? Now see reason and go inside and go to bed.”
“I am thinking of Gabriel. I have to help you and the sheriff put the Laski brothers away, away for good. It’s the only way Gabriel and I will be able to find any peace in our lives.”
Unable to think of any more arguments, Buck shrugged his shoulders in defeat and glanced over to the sheriff, looking for assistance. The sheriff threw up his hands and turned to go through the bushes.
Over his shoulder, he said, “I want to know more about this Mathias Buxton, Buck.”
“Petra, you hear that, you got the sheriff all curious. You’re a lot of trouble, I knew that the first time I laid eyes on you. You’re a lot of trouble.”
Buck took her by the hand to help her off the steps. “Stay behind us. If it’s Kurt in the house, and we go in there, it’ll be like poking a stick at a rattlesnake. He’s going to strike and strike quick.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
When they got there, there were no lights shining from any of the windows in the house, not even the basement. “Someone’s turned down the lamps since I’ve been here. It’s Kurt. I know it is, it has to be.”
Buck put his finger over Petra’s lips to keep her quiet, then they went around to the far side of the house and to the backyard. The dim glow from a lantern shone out onto the bare rose bushes in the side yard. Buck turned to ask Petra the best and quickest way to get into the basement, but she wasn’t behind him. Peering through the darkness and the shadows, he didn’t see her anywhere.
The sheriff took a couple steps back the way they’d come and waved Buck to follow. As soon as Buck got close enough, he said to the sheriff, “I think Petra’s gone inside, the fool. Damn women, anyway. They don’t know how to follow orders.”
The steps at the back porch were in shadow, the interior dark. Feeling their way, they found the door to the kitchen and heard Petra talking. A faint light came from around the corner of the room.
Her voice sounded seductive. Buck knew that voice well; he’d missed that voice, the one she used when they made love, he likened it to the purr of a kitten. The sound of it now made him sick to his stomach, imagining her talking to Kurt Laski, wasting that beautiful voice on that scum. He drew his gun, ready to kill both of them.
“Kurt, Kurt, honey, wake up, it’s your pretty Pet. I have something for you. Wake up, darling.”
Drawing his gun, the sheriff grabbed Buck to hold him back. He put his finger up and motioned for Buck to get on the other side of the doorway. Buck looked through the doorway and his blood froze in his veins, then began to boil fiery hot.
Petra, bent over Kurt Laski, held, between her thumb and index finger, a little brown field mouse. It dangled, wiggled and squirmed right over Kurt’s nose, only inches from his face.
Kurt, lying back on an upholstered leather chaise lounge, appeared paralyzed in fear. His eyes big, nostrils flared, lips pulled back, he looked afraid to breathe as he pulled in his chin, trying to get away from the nasty little creature. And Petra, Petra, Buck realized by the gleam in her eye and the curve of her smiling lips, had the situation in control, having fun.
“You’ve been busy, Kurt. Very naughty. Poor Ida, what did she ever do to you?”
Dragging the little mouse up the bridge of Kurt’s nose, Petra demanded a response. “Talk to me, Kurt. I heard you ran her down—killed her. Tell me, tell me or I’ll let this cute little guy make a nest in your hair.”
Kurt managed a sound, a whimper, really. Then he yelled, “Get it out of here.”
Petra, the fiend, dragged the little mouse over Kurt’s forehead and let it do a little dance over one eyebrow.
“Yeah, yeah, I had to. She was gonna tell the sheriff all about how we took your clothes and how we took your money. She got mad ‘cause we’d taken the farm away from her brother. Then he died. That was Beau’s fault. He went too far. He just wanted to scare the fool and get him to leave town. Who knew he had a weak heart?”
Petra pulled out another little mouse from her coat pocket and laid it out on Kurt’s chest, keeping control of it by holding its thin tail between her thumb and forefinger. “Naughty, naughty. Come on, there’s more, I know there is. You’ll feel better once you tell me, Kurt.”
“Get it out of here. I’ll talk. We’ll talk. We’ll have a long talk. Just get it out of here. I can’t stand the things. I hate’em. You know why. Beau and me, just kids, we hid in a ship’s hull to get out of Poland and get to…to the new country. The ship’s hull was full of’em. We ate’em and they bit the shit out of us. Get’em off me, get’em off me, Petra, for God’s sake.”
“You hate mice like you hate coolies.”
“I don’t hate coolies. We just didn’t have any more use for’em, and we had to get rid of’em. No one even missed’em.”
“What about me, Kurt? Did you think no one would miss me?” She took out another little critter from her pocket, and another and turned them lose in his crotch. She let the little mouse in her right hand scratch his way up to Kurt’s chin. He screamed like a little girl and began to bawl.
Buck felt sick to his stomach.
Beside him, the sheriff started to giggle.
“I love you, Petra, you know I do.” Hiccupping, Kurt struggled for control. His eyes looked up into Petra’s face. Kurt looked innocent and boyishly handsome, and Buck could almost see why she’d fallen for the rat. “I’ve always loved you, Pet, but Beau said you couldn’t be trusted anymore. Did you have our son? You did, didn’t you? Where is he? I want to see him.”
Her shoulders slumped, and Buck thought she might weaken. What she said next took him completely by surprise. He had no idea she could lie so well. She did it to wound. He knew that. It was her final thrust to pierce the bastard’s heart.
“The baby died,” she said on a sob that sounded quite pitiful. “He’s dead, Kurt. You killed him. You killed him in the explosion. Did you really think he w
ould survive? Did you really think I would survive? You son-of-a-bitch!”
Done with him, done with the torture, done with the game, she emptied her pockets of four more mice and let them drop on his face and stepped back. Kurt went wild, slapping at them, screaming and crying out in terror.
Buck entered the room, his only thought, get Petra safe, and out of Kurt’s reach while the sheriff put the cuffs on the poor bastard. With her arms wrapped around his waist, Petra drew in a big gulp of air. She began to tremble and quake as sobs of pent up emotions spilled out of her body.
»»•««
With Kurt trussed up in the sheriff’s basement, the judge and Mr. Rhodes tucked away in the courthouse, Doreen and Petra and Gabriel asleep in the room upstairs, and Smiley once again secure in his shack, the sheriff and Buck sat at the kitchen table in the early dawn, quietly drinking their fourth cup of coffee.
“I’d say we’ve got a case now.”
“Yep. Rhodes should be able to unravel this whole mess. I’d say by the end of the day a lot of things are going to get cleaned up around here.”
They were quiet together for a few long moments. The sheriff finished off his coffee and set his cup down. “You got yourself some woman there. I never saw her much when she lived over there with Beau and Kurt. I heard a lot of talk about that livin’ arrangement. Kurt is a wild one. Both boys liked their women and liquor.”
Buck cleared his throat and cocked his head to one side. “I have to disagree. I don’t think the Laski brothers like anyone, especially women. They like to push people around, and it so happens women are easy targets. Their fondness for liquor I don’t doubt.
“And Yeah, Petra is a lot of woman. She’s unsure of herself, I don’t know why. She’s strong, with a will of iron. Pregnant, dressed like she was, no shoes, she should’ve been dead after the explosion. Instead, she stayed on the run for two days, no food, no water, gave birth to a healthy son and lived.” He shook his head.
“So, Buck, Hoyt Mathias Van De Veer Buxton, whoever you are, you gonna do somethin’ about it?”
Buck grinned. “I thought maybe the judge would do the honors.”
“What about your…your business?”
“Like I told Petra, I ended the brothel business the minute I brought her into the house.”
“Have you asked her? Women like to have the question stated plain and clear, with all the trimmings.”
Uncomfortable, Buck went over to pour himself a bit more coffee. “I asked her, but she turned me down. The notion kind of took me by surprise, and I jumped the gun. She misunderstood and decided I only pitched the idea because I was under duress at the time.”
The sheriff shook his head. “I don’t know what you just said, but I’d have to say she probably had cause to doubt your enthusiasm. Even now, you’re as fidgety as a stallion. It seems to me, you don’t know whether to jump the traces or prance into the ring and take her. You better think on this some more. If you’re gonna do this, you better be sure.”
Buck studied the sheriff’s face, trying to see inside his head. “How about you? Are you sorry you married May—that you didn’t go ahead and marry Doreen, even though she’s a working woman?”
Bollo held out his cup. Buck knew he’d just stepped over the line, but he’d asked the question the whole town wanted to know the answer to.
“I love Doreen Brown,” the sheriff admitted to the muddy liquid in his cup. “I think I always will, but I couldn’t marry her. I can’t get past what she was…is. We both know it. May knows I love Doreen. She’s known it all along. But May also knows I do love her. She’s the mother of my children. She’s the mortar holding the family together. I honor her, Buck. I would never do anything to break her trust. I’ve always been honest with her, and I took my vows seriously. If I had it to do all over again, I don’t know what I’d do.”
If he put some effort into it, Buck thought he might find the words to express what was getting in the way of making Petra a permanent part of his life. It’d been a long night, no use going to bed, he wouldn’t sleep. He came back and sat down, his cup in his hands.
“It isn’t that I don’t love Petra. I love her so much I could die from it if she won’t have me. The thing is, I’ve been alone out there at the hot springs a long time. I was alone even when I had a house full of customers. I stayed apart from everything. With Petra and Gabriel, I’ve started to think of somebody beside myself. That scares me, Bollo.”
“You mean the responsibility?”
“No, I mean if I make room for Petra and Gabriel—do the best I can to make them happy and keep them safe—what happens if it’s not enough?”
The sheriff chuckled and shrugged his big shoulders. “That’s the gamble, Hoyt. You gotta take it, put everything on the line and throw the dice. I didn’t do that, maybe I should’ve. You could lose, sure. But you could win, Buck. Win big. Women like Petra Yurvasi don’t come along every day.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Entering the courtroom the same way they’d exited, Petra sat beside Mr. Rhodes, dressed as she had been the day before. Mr. Rhodes skimmed through her diary.
“I’m going to put you on the witness stand again. I’ve marked the pages I want you to read. You go into great detail about witnessing the murder of the assayer’s assistant and the poisoning of the unfortunate coolies.
“As soon as the judge takes his seat at the bench, I’ll enter your diary into evidence. When you come off the witness stand today, you may take a seat behind me. The sheriff and his wife are holding a space for you. I don’t want you sitting right here where Mr. Laski can intimidate you. Today is going to prove very productive, I’m sure. Rest assured, this will be all over by the end of the day.”
The jurors took their places. One of the sheriff’s deputies wheeled Beau over to the defense table. This time Petra did look at him. He appeared grotesque, much too thin, and his hair had turned snow-white. How could she ever have thought him handsome or romantic? He wore the same charming grin on his face. However, instead of finding it irresistible, she now judged it maniacal, a trait that confirmed his instability.
Much too busy playing to the crowd, Beau didn’t bother to look her way.
When the judge entered, the spectators quieted and Petra could feel the anticipation rising all around her. Today Beau Laski expected to show his might. Petra could hardly wait to prove to him, and to those who worked for him, who believed his every word, that they were wrong.
»»•««
It wasn’t easy reading from her diary. Her words revealed to everyone her wounded heart and laid raw the stark loneliness, the humility, she’d felt. But her words also captured her horror, her fear of Beau and Kurt, who had become cold-blooded killers and would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. When she finished, the judge turned to the defense table.
“Your witness, Mr. McManus.”
“Your honor, this witness is unreliable. The fictitious nonsense written in that diary is most likely concocted from Miss Yurvasi’s fertile imagination. It has no basis in fact. There are no witnesses to confirm her allegations.” He waved his hand in disgust. “I have no questions.”
The judge nodded. “Very well. Mr. Rhodes, would you like to call another witness to the stand?”
Rising to his feet, Mr. Rhodes approached the bench and spoke to the judge in a low whisper. The judge looked through the papers, then nodded.
“You may proceed.”
Mr. Rhodes turned to the crowd, and called out, “The prosecution calls Jace Oldmen to the stand.”
Snorts, grumbles and guffaws followed Mr. Rhode’s request, and finally, after a bit of ribbing, the witness came forward, indignation plainly written on his face.
The bailiff held out the bible. The doctor put his right hand on the Good Book. “State your full name?”
“Jace Oldmen.”
“Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
“Take the stan
d.”
Mr. Rhodes, Petra noticed, did not approach the witness, but stood in front of the table, a sheaf of papers in his hands, flipping through them, appearing to have forgotten all about calling the doctor up to testify. Not until the judge cleared his throat did Mr. Rhodes at last look up.
“Yes, ah, Doctor Oldmen, where did you receive your medical training?”
The doctor sat back in the chair with a satisfied sneer on his face. “The University of Missouri, class of sixty-one.”
“Hmmm.” Mr. Rhodes flipped to the back sheet of the papers in his hands. “You’ve been practicing medicine for ten years, then?”
“That’s right.”
“In Missouri?” Mr. Rhodes asked.
The witness shifted. “No. Here and there. I wanted to see the country. I don’t like to stay in one spot too long.”
“Ah, ha. Your patient, Beau Laski; what is your diagnosis?” Mr. Rhodes set aside the papers on the desk behind him, not bothering to look at the witness at all.
As though parroting from a script, the witness replied, “He’s paralyzed from the waist down due to trauma to the spine and brainstem.”
“Interesting.” Mr. Rhodes folded his arms across his chest. “Tell us, Doctor, a man paralyzed from the waist down, can he manage his ablutions by himself? Can he hoist himself up and get on and off his bed without someone to help him? Can he dress himself? Use the chamber pot?”
Flustered, the doctor stuttered and stammered. “Ah, no, I mean, he might. It’s possible, if he has the will and the strength in his upper body.”
Picking up a rather large tome off the desk behind him, Mr. Rhodes opened the book, and a bookmarker fluttered to the floor. He bent down, in no hurry, and picked it up. When upright, he turned to face the crowd.
Petra, Mrs. Bollo and the sheriff had front row seats behind the balustrade. Petra didn’t see Matt anywhere. She wished he were here—he should be here to see this. He should be here to watch Mr. Rhodes tear down the Laski brother’s ruse one brick at a time.
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