by Al Lacy
The skillet met the side of Pate’s head with a meaty, sodden sound, making a dull ring. He went down like a brain-shot steer. The crowd started to cheer, but John hushed them, not wanting to alarm the outlaw holding Breanna.
John, Rip, and Curly hurried to the old woman, who stood over the unconscious outlaw, ready to hit him again if he needed it.
“Good job, ma’am!” Stranger said with a smile. “Thank you.”
“Tweren’t nothin’ to it,” Judy said.
Stranger looked at Clayson and said, “Tie him up, Rip. I’ll be back shortly.”
As the tall man hurried away, Clayson called, “Don’t you want some help?”
Stranger was rounding the building, heading for the rear. “No! I’ll take care of it!”
When he reached the rear of the building, John flattened himself against the back wall and edged up to the window of Brad Cahill’s room. He removed his hat and stole a peek inside. K. D. Wilhite stood over Breanna, who was still seated beside the cot, his revolver pressed against her head. Stranger slipped inside, moved down the hallway to the room, and tapped lightly.
“It’s me. I’m back,” he said, making his voice sound like Les Pate’s. “Open the door.”
Heavy footsteps sounded, the key rattled in the door, and it came open. Wilhite never saw the fist that connected with his jaw. He went down in a heap.
John stepped over him, and Breanna hurried into his arms. He held her for a long moment, then said, “Go tell Rip to send a couple of men to carry Brad to the wagons.”
“All right,” she said, looking down at Wilhite, who was beginning to stir. “What about him?”
“Bring a rope, and I’ll tie him up.”
Breanna hurried down the hall into the station office, then passed through the store. She saw Curly Wesson and Judy Charley in a corner behind the counter, looking at an open Bible. Breanna looked on with curiosity, but didn’t have time to stop.
Rip Clayson, John Stranger, and a couple of men from the train loaded Brad Cahill, Les Pate, and K. D. Wilhite into separate wagons. Breanna and Curly stood by the old man’s wagon, talking to Judy Charley. Rip Clayson called for everyone to take their places as he mounted his horse, which stood next to Ebony.
Stranger walked over to the Wesson wagon and found a beaming Curly standing beside Judy. The old woman was showing her snaggletooth in a wide smile.
Curly’s eyes sparkled. “I just got my first convert, John! Miss Judy here done got saved!”
“Wonderful!” Stranger exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you, Miss Judy!”
“An’ guess what,” Curly said. “She’s done throwed her coffee can away already … an’ I’ve got a personal invite to come back and … uh … maybe do a li’l courtin’!”
John laughed heartily. “Well, that is good news, Curly! Congratulations!”
Moments later, the wagon train pulled out. Curly Wesson had Breanna hold the reins so he could stand on the wagon seat and wave to Judy Charley till she passed from view.
17
PLACERVILLE, CALIFORNIA, was a busy town. Though the gold rush that began in 1849 and lasted through the early 1860s had been over for nearly ten years, the town had continued to grow. Hundreds of men who failed to strike it rich fell in love with the area, stayed there, and went into the logging business. There were more than a dozen mills in and around Placerville, which provided dependable employment for men willing to work hard. This drew more people, and new business sprung up as a result.
It was early October, and summer’s heat was being replaced with cool breezes off the mountains.
Placerville’s deputy marshal, Bert Watson, was returning from delivering a court summons to a man who lived in the foothills of the Sierras just east of town when he spotted a wagon train wending its way down Luther Pass. The youthful lawman trotted his horse toward the line of wagons, adjusting his hat against the noonday sun.
He met up with the two horsemen who rode point as they neared level ground. He raised his hand in a friendly signal for them to stop and reined in, smiling. “Howdy, gentlemen. I’m Deputy Marshal Bert Watson from over here in Placerville. I assume you’re part of the wagon train that’s behind you.”
“Sure are,” said the man on the bay gelding. “I’m Rip Clayson, wagon master. Something I can do for you, Deputy?”
“Well, maybe, sir. Is there a man named John Stranger in your train?”
“That’s me,” said the man on the big black horse.
“Oh, good,” Watson said. “I believe you’re acquainted with Chief U. S. Marshal Solomon Duvall in Denver.”
“Sure am.”
“Well, Mr. Stranger, he wired my boss, Marshal Jack Abner, early last week. Said you had sent him a message a few weeks ago from Fort Bridger saying you were traveling with a wagon train on the California Trail. Marshal Duvall asked us to keep an eye out for any wagon trains that showed up, and to find you, sir. He wants you to contact him as soon as possible. The telegraph office is right next door to our office and jail.”
“All right,” Stranger said. “It just so happens we’d be knocking on your door anyway.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve got four wanted men tied up in the wagons. It’s a long story, so I’ll save it till I see your boss. Got some room in your jail?”
“Sure do. Just built a whole new office and jail house. We’ve got room for sixteen prisoners, and right now we’ve only got five locked up.”
“Fine. Why don’t you ride on in and tell Marshal Abner we’re coming. We should be there … how long would you say, Rip?”
“About thirty-five, forty minutes.”
“Will do,” Watson replied. “When you come into town and reach Main Street, turn right and go three blocks. You can’t miss us.”
“Fine. See you in a bit,” Stranger said.
As Bert Watson galloped westward toward the town, John said, “Rip, I want to tell Breanna what’s up. Be right back.”
Stranger wheeled Ebony about and trotted him toward the lead wagon. As he drew up, Breanna had a curious look on her face. “Did I see a badge on that man’s chest?” she asked.
“Yes. His name’s Bert Watson. He’s deputy marshal in Placerville. He and the marshal have been watching for the wagon train.”
“They knew we were coming?”
“Only because Marshal Duvall wired them that I was on a train that should be coming down out of the mountains some time soon. The wire came last week, he said. Duvall wants me to wire him.”
“I know what it is,” Breanna said, disappointment in her eyes. “There’s somebody somewhere, probably a lawman, who needs help. And Marshal Duvall wants you to go help him. You won’t be riding the train back to Denver with me.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I don’t mean to be selfish, John,” Breanna sighed, “but I was really looking forward to our train ride together.”
“Yes, so was I,” John said. “But if Chief Duvall says I’m needed somewhere, I have to go. It’s my duty before the Lord.”
“I know, darling. But it’s been so wonderful to be with you on this journey, and I … well, I wish it could last forever.”
“Aw, c’mon you two!” Curly Wesson said, laughing. “You’re breakin’ my heart!”
John Stranger gave him a mock look of scorn and said, “You ornery old cuss! A lot you know about it! You fell head-over-heels for Judy Charley, and you’re going to turn right around, go back up there, and court her. And unless I’m way off my rocker, you’ll end up marrying her, and you’ll be in the general store and way station business for the rest of your life!”
Curly eyed him with suspicion. “What are you, anyway? A prophet of some kind? How’d ya know what I was plannin’?”
“Doesn’t take a prophet to figure you out, pal. All I had to do was watch you and Judy together and use a little arithmetic. One plus one equals two. Wedding bells for Curly equals matrimony and money.”
“Aw, g’wan. I ain’t planni
n’ on marryin’ her fer her money! No, sir! I just plain fell in love. It ain’t my fault if’n she’s got a coupla lucrative businesses goin’!”
The wagon train soon ground to a stop at the eastern edge of Placerville. Breanna and Carolyne accompanied John and Rip when they took the four outlaws to the jail and turned them over to Marshal Abner. Abner assured them he would see that the outlaws were turned over to the proper authorities for prosecution.
Rip and Carolyne mingled with the other people of the wagon train as they stocked up in the stores.
Breanna went with John to the telegraph office next to the jail and waited while he sent his wire to Chief Duvall. The two of them took a twenty minute stroll, then returned to the telegraph office.
The agent, an elderly man wearing a green visor, was waiting behind the counter with a smile as they moved through the door. He extended a folded sheet of paper and said, “Reply came back ’bout ten minutes after I sent it, Mr. Stranger.”
The tall man thanked him, then opened the door for Breanna and they stepped outside.
Breanna watched John’s eyes as he read the message and knew it meant he would not be riding the train with her to Denver. When he finished reading it, he said, “I have to leave right away, sweetheart.”
“Where will you be going?” Breanna asked, fighting to hold back the tears.
“Apache Junction, Arizona. Duvall says the marshal there is getting on in years. His name’s Ben Clifton. Some of the gold miners working the Superstition Mountains close by are trying to run Ben off and take over the town. The man’s got trouble. He needs my help.”
“I understand, darling. How … soon does ‘right away’ mean?”
“As soon as I can resupply the necessities for my saddlebags.”
“I see. Then we’d best get that done.”
An hour later, the people of the wagon train gathered near the Wesson wagon to say good-bye to John Stranger. Breanna waited patiently, her heart hurting and her emotions in a storm. The last ones to say good-bye were Rip Clayson, Carolyne Fulford, and Curly Wesson. John wished Rip and Carolyne a happy marriage, and teased Curly one more time about Judy.
John then led Ebony away from the group while holding Breanna’s hand. They stopped when they were out of earshot. John looped the reins over the saddlehorn, took Breanna in his arms, and held her for a long moment. Then he looked into her tear-filled eyes and told her again of the undying love he held for her. She said the same to him.
They kissed tenderly, then he said, “I’ll find you in Denver or wherever you are when I finish my job in Arizona.”
Again they kissed, and then the tall man swung into his saddle. He smiled at her, then trotted away. When he was better than a half-mile across the rolling land, he looked back and waved, then put the big black into a gallop.
Breanna watched John through a wall of tears until he passed from view.
Dottie Harper stood stunned in the San Mateo County sheriff’s office, looking at Clancy McBride as if he had slapped her in the face.
“Mr. McBride, I don’t believe it!” she said.
“Well, Mrs. Harper, it’s so. Sheriff Donner and Myron are after both of them right now.”
“No!” she cried, shaking her head and placing her fingertips to her temples. “Sheriff Donner can’t possibly believe Jerrod would plot an escape with Marty Tillman! Jerrod’s not that kind of a man!”
“But, ma’am, they’re both gone. They were in separate cells. Tillman could have just gone off and left Jerrod where he was, but he didn’t. From the way Myron explained it, the two of them were workin’ together to trick him so’s they could make their escape.”
“No!” Dottie said. “I know my husband. He’s not a criminal, Mr. McBride. He’s not!”
“Maybe when he’s in his right mind he’s not, ma’am, but from what Donner and Hall told me, your husband can be real bad when he’s havin’ one of his spells.”
“Yes, but when he’s in a spell, he’s not rational at all. There’s no way he could have plotted an escape with Tillman when he was in one of those. And when Jerrod is in his right mind, he’s such a good man. I’m telling you, he wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“Well, how else do you explain it, Mrs. Harper?” pressed McBride. “Your husband’s gone, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but not of his own free will.”
“You mean you think he was forced to escape?”
“You did say Tillman had the deputy’s gun, didn’t you?”
“Yes’m.”
“Well, that explains it.”
“You mean you think—”
“I’m sure of it. That man put the gun on Jerrod and made him go with him.”
McBride scratched his hoary head. “Well, if it happened that way, it’ll be the first time I’ve ever seen such a thing in my forty-odd years of law enforcement.”
“If the sheriff and deputy find them, Mr. McBride, you’ll see that what I’m saying is true. Like I said … I know my husband. He would not go along with anything Marty Tillman did. I’m staying right here until they return. I’ve got to know if they find that no-good outlaw and my husband.”
Dottie paced the floor of the office, praying. Only God could protect Jerrod and bring him safely back to her. When midmorning came, she left the sheriff’s office long enough to send a wire to Dr. Matthew Carroll, canceling the appointment.
Dottie returned to the sheriff’s office and was about to enter when she saw Jerrod coming down the sun-bleached street. He was shoving Marty Tillman in front of him.
“Jerrod!” she cried, drawing the attention of people on the street. They watched her as she ran to meet the two men who were walking in from the east side of town.
When she reached them, Dottie could see that the outlaw had been severely beaten. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth. Dottie wrapped her arms around her husband, and said, “Sheriff Donner thinks you plotted the escape with this … this criminal. He and his deputy are out looking for you right now!”
“But you told him I wasn’t in on it with him, didn’t you?”
“I haven’t seen him nor his deputy yet, Jerrod. But I told Clancy McBride you weren’t in on it. They left him to watch the office. You remember him. He used to be the sheriff.”
“Yes, but I’ve never met him. Does he believe you?”
“No, he doesn’t.” A smile broke on her lips. “But your coming back with him in tow will show them all they were wrong.”
With Dottie at his side, Jerrod continued to prod the stumbling outlaw down the street. As they went, Jerrod told Dottie how Tillman had engineered his escape and taken him along, intending to kill him, and how he was able to catch Tillman off guard and subdue him.
Tillman remained silent. Jerrod had pounded him so hard, he was dizzy and nauseous. He had nothing to say.
When they reached the sheriff’s office, Clancy McBride stood with his mouth open when he saw Jerrod Harper shove Marty Tillman through the door. Clancy locked Tillman up in his cell, and the Harpers sat down in the office to wait for Donner and Hall to return.
Jerrod told the entire story to McBride, and as the hours passed, they discussed Jerrod’s mental problem. The sun was setting when Donner and Hall finally rode up in front of the office and dismounted. The instant the two lawmen entered, surprise showed on their faces.
“Jerrod!” the sheriff exclaimed. “You’re … you’re back!”
“Yes, sir,” Jerrod nodded. “I never would’ve left if Tillman hadn’t forced me to go with him. He was gonna kill me when we got far enough away from town. I caught him off guard and … well, you’ll see. He’s back in his cell and not feelin’ too good.”
Donner took off his hat and hung it on a wall peg. He looked at his deputy and said, “Well, Myron, looks like we owe Jerrod an apology.”
“We sure do. Both of us assumed you’d plotted the escape with Tillman.”
“Apology accepted,” Jerrod said with a grin. “Can I go now?”
Donner’s gaze swung to Dottie. “He is going to see Dr. Carroll?”
“Yes, Sheriff,” she said. “I had to wire his office and cancel the appointment today, of course, but we’re going first thing in the morning. I’m sure Dr. Carroll will work him into his schedule.”
The last shadows of twilight were on the land as Jerrod and Dottie pulled up in front of the Reeves house. James and Molly Kate were on the front porch with Grandpa Will, who sat in his rocking chair.
Molly Kate was playing with two of her dolls. When she saw that her father was at the reins, she picked her dolls up, placed one under each arm, and moved close to the old man.
Will rose to his feet, laid a hand on her shoulder, and said in a half-whisper, “Don’t be afraid, honey. Your daddy won’t hurt you.”
James also pressed close to the old man. Will laid his other hand on James’s shoulder and squeezed it tight.
Jerrod helped Dottie out of the wagon, and Maudie came out the door as they were mounting the steps. “Well,” she said with a wide smile, “how did it go with Dr. Carroll?”
Dottie said that Jerrod had not yet seen the doctor, then between the two of them, they explained what had happened. Maudie invited them to stay for supper, but Dottie graciously declined, saying they needed to get on home. There were things Jerrod needed to tend to before morning, and he could do some of it while she was preparing supper.
An hour and a half later, the Harper family sat down to eat. Jerrod could see that his children were afraid, and he spoke calmly to them, telling them that he loved them and that they didn’t need to be afraid of him. Dottie reminded them that their father was going to begin seeing Dr. Carroll, who would help make Jerrod better.
Both children tried to relax. Molly Kate sat on Jerrod’s right, holding a doll in the curve of her left arm while attempting to eat with her right hand. The fear that her father might go into one of his spells at any moment had stolen her appetite. She picked at her food with her fork.
Jerrod noted it and said in a firm voice, “Molly Kate, you’re not eating. Lay your dolly down beside your chair, and sit up and eat your supper. You haven’t even touched your milk.”
