Zoe wiped her eyes, smiling at Brody. “Have I ever told you the story about Cade and Pop going coon-hunting when Cade was just about your age?”
Brody shook his head, his face pale with worry.
“My,” she said, “were those two ever a sight. They took off for the woods, guns over their shoulders, ol’ Blue on the trail of something. The other dogs joined in all that baying, having not the slightest idea what they were howling about…”
Her eyes moved to the window. The commotion outside was getting louder. Lifting her voice, she spoke over the noise. “Pop said they were just all imitating ol’ Blue, but that old dog sure knew how to hunt…”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Waving a crutch in the air, Pop yelled at the women gathered on the corner. “Git off the street!” When the flock didn’t move, he yelled louder. “Go on home, now, there’s gonna be a shoot-out!” Hobbling across the road, he motioned for horses to be untied and buggies moved. “Get these animals out of here!”
Men released horses and sent them galloping with a brisk swat to the hindquarters. Buckboards and buggies rattled toward the livery.
At the north end of town, Hart McGill’s silhouette loomed as storm clouds moved in. A sharp crack of thunder split the dark morning sky. Cade rounded the corner of the general store and Pop hobbled to meet him.
Main Street cleared. Onlookers ducked into nearby businesses and jerked the shades down.
Cade lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and then settled it low. Glancing to the north end of town, he said, “Looks like I stayed a day too long.”
Pop’s weathered face looked older than Cade had ever seen it. “You don’t have to do this, son. Let me run the no-good out of town, tell him to move on.”
Cade studied McGill’s outline. The image of Owen Cantrell’s widow was seared in his mind. Owen had been shot down in the prime of his life by this coldhearted outlaw. Twenty other men had lost their lives to this animal. “I can’t do that.”
“Then jest concentrate on what you’re doin’, son.”
“Get out of here, Pop. This is my fight.”
“It’s my town.”
Cade took a money clip out of his pocket and handed it to Pop. “If this doesn’t turn out good, see that Red gets this. If I lose, McGill will come after her and the kids next. Tell her to buy a place out of state, somewhere far away, where she and the kids will be safe.”
Pop waved the money aside. “Don’t need that. I got a piece of land in Missouri so remote, mosquitoes cain’t find it. I’ll take care of your family if anything happens.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
“The only thanks I want is for you to come out of this alive.” He put his hand on Cade’s shoulder. “You keep a steady hand. You can take him. There ain’t a better gun around than Cade Kolby’s.”
Cade smiled. “Tell my family I was thinking of them.”
Pop nodded. “You need to tell ’em, not me. It’s not over ’til it’s over. Now, git out there and do what you gotta do.” He limped across the street.
Dark clouds hovered overhead, turning daylight into dark. Thunder rolled as the storm moved in. Settling his hat lower, Cade stepped into the middle of Main Street, his mind cleared of all thoughts but one. McGill. His hand rested loosely at his side, his gaze focused on the man who stood at the other end of town.
Cade took his stance, one he’d taken more times than he cared to think about, but it felt awkward and unnatural today. Main Street was empty, except for a lone mutt who ambled along in front of the bank.
Dust swirled off the rooftops as he stared McGill down. Gusts of wind whipped at his clothing, and bits of debris stung his face. He blinked against the growing gale.
The bearded outlaw spit to one side. “Finally showed your cowardly face, huh, Kolby?”
Cade’s hand hovered over his holster. “You must be getting old, McGill. What took you so long?”
McGill advanced, his sinister eyes glaring at Cade through the swirling dust. “You shoulda knowed better than to try to hide from a McGill. You’re a dead man, Kolby.”
“We all have to go one time or the other.”
“And this is your day.” McGill’s fingers flexed loosely at his sides.
They each took a step closer, then two. Lightning crackled. Rain poured from the heavens.
Cade saw Pop out the corner of his eye, leaning against the side of the jailhouse, hand on his gun. Ahead of him, Cade recognized faces of various Winterborn citizens beginning to appear behind store columns and peeking around the corners of buildings. The barrel of a gun protruded from the partially open door of Walt’s barbershop.
Cade took another step, then another. McGill’s eyes narrowed. “Heard you took yourself a right purty wife. Too bad she’s gonna be widowed again. Twice couldn’t be much fun, but don’t you worry none. Ol’ Hart will see to the little woman’s needs.” He laughed. “Got me a hankerin’ for those redheaded women. They got a lot of fire, if you know what I mean.”
Pop’s whispered words reached him. “Don’t let him rile ya, son.”
“Steady as it goes, boy,” he heard Walt whisper.
Cade’s eyes never left McGill’s right hand. He took a deep breath, blinking against the rain starting to pepper down.
“Yep, heard wifey is real purty. ’Spect she’ll be real lonely after yore dead.” McGill’s hand flew to his gun.
Cade dropped to one knee and fired. The Colt exploded with a deafening roar at the same time McGill’s Buntline Special blasted, the gunfire overpowering a clap of thunder.
Hot lead grazed Cade’s left arm. Blood seeped through his shirt, crimson against the blue, rain-soaked fabric. He fell to the ground.
“You filthy piece of dog meat!” yelled McGill. The Peacemaker had caught the desperado in the leg above his knee, dropping him. McGill sat up, gripping his thigh and moaning in agony as he got off another round. The slug seared a hole through Cade’s hat, knocking it several feet in the air.
Taking slow and deliberate aim, Cade rose on one elbow and fired again, then fell back as a volley of bullets sent Hart McGill to his just reward. When Cade looked up, McGill lay in the dirt, staring sightlessly into the whistling wind. Rain pelted onto the road, splattering mud across the outlaw’s face.
The men of Winterborn calmly blew the smoke from their gun barrels and shifted back into the shadows.
Rolling to his side, Cade yanked loose his bandanna and tied it around his bleeding arm.
Pop quickly hobbled over and shoved him back to the ground. “Oh, merciful heavens, Cade’s dead!” he bellowed.
Cade rolled to his side to get up. “I’m not dead.”
Pop planted a boot in the center of Cade’s chest. “Oh, yes, you are. Stay!” he ordered.
Cade rolled onto his back and clamped his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the fire in his left arm.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Pop repeated, and then he turned and hobbled over to where McGill lay sprawled. He counted the holes in the outlaw’s chest and he whistled under his breath. “Nine. Shoulda been ten. Walt Mews can’t hit the side of a barn.” He hurried back to Cade. “You okay, son?”
“Okay. Just grazed. What’s going on? Who told those men to get involved? This was my fight.”
“Not necessarily. The town likes to protect its interests, and keeping you alive happens to be one of our main interests right now.” Pop glanced around. “We gotta act fast.”
Townspeople poured out of doors and alleyways. Lawrence, Roy, Walt, Ben, and Woodall passed Gracie, Margaret, and Lilith on the run. Frank Lovell hurried along beside Bess Harris. Doc came running with his black bag. He leaned down and put his ear to Cade’s chest. “He’s dead.”
Motioning for the crowd to gather near, Pop bent low. “Now listen to me. We ain’t got time for chitchat. No telling who’s watching these goings-on. We got to unite and put on the act of our lives.”
“Tell us what to do,” Roy Baker whispered.
Pop kept his voice low. “We don’t want no other vengeful outlaws comin’ around here, so here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna have a funeral the likes of which this town ain’t never seen, and we’re gonna have it this afternoon.”
Cade gritted his teeth. “If you can pull this off, Pop, I’ll never forget it.”
Pop smiled. “You’re dead. Hush up.”
The crowd turned to stare at Cade, who still lay in the middle of the street.
Pop straightened and motioned for Roy and Ben to step forward. “We need two good strong men to carry the deceased to their restin’ places.”
“Carry McGill to his grave? I wouldn’t waste the time or the effort,” Ben declared.
Pop shot him a peeved look. “Listen to me, you knuckleheads. Hear what I’m sayin’. Pretend you got some learnin! Two men were killed in a gunfight here today. Two. Cade Kolby and Hart McGill. Get it?”
One by one, heads began to nod in the crowd.
“Kolby’s dead,” Walt said. “Bit the dust, a goner.”
Cade groaned. “It won’t work.”
Pop glanced down the street. “Darned if it won’t. Don’t move a muscle. You’re dead, boy. Dead as a doornail.”
“How is this going to help anything?” Cade asked. “I can’t come back to Winterborn.”
“Kolby cain’t come back, but now, his cousin in the Arizona Territory, who looks an awful lot like him, could ride in here any day and pay his respects, couldn’t he?”
Blank faces confronted the sheriff.
“Couldn’t he?” Pop prompted. “Think about it, people.”
Lilith glanced at Cade. “You ain’t got no cousin in the Arizona Territory.”
Gracie punched her, and Lilith’s expression turned peevish. “Well, he ain’t. I’d know a thing like that. Senda never said a thing about a cousin—”
“Lilith, you’re turning senile,” Gracie patiently explained. “Don’t you remember? Cade and…and…Tray…Williams, Senda Kolby’s sister’s boy, looked so much alike when they were young’uns, Senda said she and her sister could hardly tell them apart. Why, I’ll bet Tray so strongly resembles Cade that if, say, Cade had been able to grow a beard and put on a few pounds before he died, why, it’d be hard for anyone to tell Cade and Tray apart. Don’t you suppose?”
“Cade hasn’t—oh.” Lilith stopped short. “Oh.” She grinned. “Well, yes, seems I do recall Senda saying how much those two babies favored each other. Goodness, someone needs to wire Tray immediately that his cousin Cade has been shot and killed in his line of work. Tray needs to come and see to his cousin’s widow’s needs.”
“Why, Tray might have his own family,” someone argued.
Gracie intervened. “He don’t.”
“It will never work,” Cade predicted in low undertones.
Agreement went up. Everyone recalled cousin Tray. Walt winked at Cade. “Nice fellow. Not as wild as Cade, as I recollect.”
Roy scratched his head. “Yes. More settled. Always told the wife that Cade’s cousin Tray would be more likely to take a shine to family life than him. Tray would be a great comfort to Zoe and those children.”
Lawrence grinned. “Why, no telling. Zoe could end up marrying Cade’s cousin, and the two of them could live right here in Winterborn and raise Addy’s kids. Tray might have a strong head for business, might even get the general store back on solid footing.”
Sawyer spit. “For the life of me, I cain’t remember that boy. Senda’s nephew, you say?”
“Take our word, Sawyer. Someone notify the deceased’s family right away.” Ben grinned. “Who wants to help me get the bodies into the stable?”
Chapter Fifty-Four
When a rap sounded at the back door, Zoe felt faint. She willed her legs to move. Taking a deep breath, she opened the back door and saw Pop. The grim look on his face confirmed that her worst fear had been realized.
“No,” she whispered.
“No,” Pop repeated. “He’s alive, Zoe.”
Her knees buckled, and Pop reached out to catch her.
“Come on, girl, don’t give out on me now.” He hobbled with her to a chair and sat her down.
“Where’s Cade?” She met Pop’s gaze, tears running down her cheeks.
“Fit as a fiddle, with the exception of a little nick in his left arm. Doc will see to that after the funeral. Cade’s about to get laid out. You up to attendin’?”
Zoe was so busy laughing through her tears that she was aware of only one thing. Cade was alive. Then she sobered. “What?”
Pop quickly explained the town’s plan. Zoe’s eyes widened in disbelief. And gratitude.
“Now,” Pop continued, “I want you to leave this house with a long face and wearin’ widow’s weeds, you hear? No matter how relieved you are, if we’re gonna keep your man around, you’re gonna have to act like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Zoe threw her arms around Pop, enveloping him in an exuberant hug. “Thank you, Pop. Thank you!”
The children heard the commotion and came running out of the bedroom.
“Cade’s alive,” Zoe announced.
“Oh, boy!” Missy danced around the floor, latching onto Holly. “Oh, boy, oh, boy!”
Brody and Will beamed.
“Honest?” Brody asked.
“Honest,” Pop said. “But we’re all gonna have to playact for a little while.” He explained what happened, described the hastily devised plan, and outlined the roles they had to assume to pull it off. “Can I trust you kids to act real sad?”
“I can act real sad,” Brody said.
“Me too.” Will nodded.
“I can cwy anytime you want,” Missy offered. “Weal, weeeal loud.”
Pop gathered the family to him and smiled as he patted Zoe, who was still sniffling, on the back. “Well now, ain’t this nice. Family helpin’ family.” He nodded. “Now that’s how it should be.”
“You in here, Abraham?” A breathless Pop entered the dimly lit livery a few minutes later. Maddy whinnied in her stall.
“I’s here, Sheriff.”
“Did you do what I told ya?”
“Yes’sa. I’s got the buryin’ box ready.”
“We gotta work quick. You think a body will fit in there?”
“Don’cha worry. That box big enough to hold five men. You was right, Sheriff. Laticia’s clothes box done shore come in handy.”
“Fill it with rocks and nail the lid shut real tight, Abraham. Then take a rock and scratch ‘Cade Kolby’ ’cross the top.”
“Yes’sa.” Abraham grinned. “Miz Laticia be real proud ta know I’s usin’ my learnin’ ta write. Might make up for her having them red spots. Oh, lordy, Sheriff. The wrath o’ the devil hisself descended on the house when she come down wid da fever. Blamin’ that ‘no-good Cade Kolby.’” Abraham chuckled and hammered the last nail into the makeshift coffin. “Yes’sa, that ‘no good Cade Kolby.’ May he rest in peace.”
Pop put his hat on. “We’ll bury McGill in a whiskey barrel. He ought ta like that. And Abraham? This is between me and you and the town. As far as anyone knows, Cade Kolby and Hart McGill killed each other in a shoot-out.”
“Yes’sa. This ol’ black man don’t know nuthin’ ’bout nuthin’.”
Pop adjusted his crutches under his arm. “Things should settle down around here now for a spell. I got a wire this mornin’ from the sheriff of Wizard County. Seems the Nelson gang is behind bars. They won’t be causing no more trouble and McGill’s dead.” Pop took a deep breath. “All in all, I’d say it’s been a right good day.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
The rain cleared by late afternoon. Reverend Munson stood before an open grave. “It is, indeed, a sad occasion that brings us together.”
Zoe wept beneath an umbrella, holding the kids close beside her as she surreptitiously searched the crowd. Where was Cade? She wouldn’t be surprised to see h
im standing nearby, witnessing his own funeral. Her body convulsed with happiness and she swallowed, trying to maintain a somber demeanor. When she saw him, she was going to kill him herself, with love.
She lifted her eyes and stared straight ahead. The whole town was present, weeping, crying, carrying on. Her gaze suddenly focused on a tall figure standing near the back, dressed in a black poncho, hat pulled low over his face.
The man crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at her.
Her mouth dropped open, and she quickly looked away. Cade! He was here. The man who’d never arrived in time for a funeral in his whole life!
The makeshift coffin stood beside the open grave as the reverend read from the Bible, intoning, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
Gracie and Lilith fell upon each other’s shoulders, sobbing.
“Gracie, did you eat onions for dinner?” Lilith hissed.
“Quiet down, Lilith. I wasn’t sure I could cry on cue, so I got an onion hidden in my hanky.” Gracie raised her hankerchief to her face until fresh tears welled.
“I’d do anything for Zoe, even attend a funeral service for a man who isn’t dead, but I can cry on my own, thank you very much, and I have no intention of smelling like a stew pot!”
Reverend Munson closed his Bible and Missy stepped forward, holding Bud’s jar close to the wooden box. “Bud wants to say goodbye, Uncle Cade.” She laid her baby face against the coffin. “Bet you wish Bud could stay with you, huh, Uncle Cade?” She flashed a missing tooth grin.
Several hours later, a knock sounded at Zoe’s back door. She raced to answer it and threw herself into Cade’s arms. “I was so worried about you.”
“Shoot. I’m fine. Exceptionally fine for a dead man.” He shrugged out of the poncho and kicked the door shut with his boot, and then he kissed her long and hard and with the assurance that nothing would separate them again.
“Where have you been?”
“Lying low on the outskirts of town. I sneaked in the back way so I wouldn’t be seen.”
“Oh, Cade, do you think what the town is trying to do will work?”
He pulled back just enough to look at her. “At first I didn’t, but I’m willing to try anything, Red, in order for us to be together. I’ll have to stay out of sight for a few weeks. Then my so-called cousin will arrive from the Arizona Territory to help my grieving widow and my kids. He’ll fall in love with you, a given, and we should be able to live a normal life.”
A Kiss for Cade Page 27
