by Greg Dragon
Jed shrugged a shoulder. “Go ahead an’ talk, then. I ain’t seen him for days now. No ideer where he is.”
Connor snorted and straightened in his saddle. “Don’t try to fool me, Jedidiah Gaines. I know you better’n most. You can’t get one of your lies past me and you know it.”
The sheriff caught the look his deputy gave him, but he ignored it. “Where’s Jeremiah?” he asked again. “And you best be straight with me.”
Jed spit his whole wad of chew to the side. It splatted on the edge of the porch in an ever-growing pile of dried masticated tobacco. “Why? What’s he done this time?” Annoyance bled into his voice.
Connor relaxed and fought back a smile. The Gaines brothers may be outlaws, but they usually had some semblance of honor. They would steal anything they wanted and kill any man to do it, but Jed held his brothers to high standards when it came to most other matters.
“Ol’ Man Richards filed a complaint with me yesterday morning. Seems Jeremiah was over at his place the other day, insisting that he pay you boys a protection fee or his cattle’ll go missing. Said Jeremiah shot his dog, a brand new pup. His daughter was mighty unhappy about the whole thing.”
Jed laughed. “Richards? He’s as crooked as I—“ He snapped his mouth shut for a moment, then continued as if nothing had happened. “—as a bent penny.”
Connor nodded in agreement. “Yep, that he is, but he did have a dead dog and a crying kid. That’s why we’re here to talk, to get Jeremiah’s side of the story. No layin’ blame if there’s none to be laid.”
Jed took his hat off and slapped it against his leg. A cloud of dust billowed off it and settled onto his pants. “Well, shit. A’right then.” He turned around and hollered inside. “Jeremiah, get yer lyin’ ass out here, ya filthy cur.”
For a moment everything was silent. Then cursing and banging erupted inside the house. In short order, another man appeared in the doorway. He was about Jed’s height but younger, with shoulder-length natty hair and a scruffy, matted beard. He was covered in filth and when he smiled, his teeth were rotten and brown like Jed’s. He stumbled onto the porch behind his older brother.
Jed turned around and smacked him in the back of the head, then he grabbed Jeremiah’s shirt and jerked him forward so they were face to face. “You been over at Old Man Richards’s place lately? When I told you not to?”
“What? Naw, I ain’t done nothin’.”
Connor narrowed his eyes at Jeremiah. “He says you shot his dog.”
Jeremiah sputtered. “I ain’t never shot no dog. No women, no kids, no animals. That’s what Jed always says. He’d whoop my ass if I did.”
Jed shook him again and let him go. “Yer damn right. I’ve half a mind to whoop it right now.”
Connor held up a hand. “Now, now. Let’s not get hasty. Where were you three days ago, Jeremiah?”
The shaggy haired man glanced at his brother. “I didn’t shoot no dog, I swear.” His voice was that of a little boy who had been caught in half a lie and wanted to belay whatever punishment awaited him.
“Were you at the Richards place?”
He shuffled his feet and kicked at the dust. “Maybe for a bit.”
“Did you threaten Mr. Richards at all?”
He glanced at his brother again. “Maybe some. But it was just fer fun. An’ I didn’t shoot no dog! Honest. There was a li’l puppy there, cute damn thing, too. But that whoremonger was kicking it and hollering at it the whole time. I bet he shot the darn thing himself.”
Connor nodded and scratched the scruff on his chin as he eyed Jeremiah. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”
“He has a temper,” said a voice from inside. The door to the house opened and a young man stepped out. Jasper was the youngest of the Gaines brothers, a full fifteen years younger than Jed. Connor liked the kid. He was more reserved than his brothers and rarely got into any trouble that wasn’t instigated by the other two. He had his mother’s quiet demeanor and kept himself clean. When he smiled, which didn’t happen very often, his teeth were white, not stained from years of tobacco use, and he kept his hair trimmed and his clothes washed.
“How are you today, Jasper?” Connor tipped his hat to the young man and received a nod in return.
“All right, Connor. And yourself?” His lips twitched into a small smile as he greeted the sheriff.
“Not too shabby. A fine day for a ride. Figured I’d bring Amos out to the old homestead and have a chat with you boys. Haven’t seen you in awhile and I like to check in now and then, ya know, catch up on old times.” He winked at the young man and Jasper laughed. It wasn’t a harsh laugh like Jed’s. It was softer and genuine.
“Want me to put the kettle on?” His blue eyes twinkled brightly even as he earned matching glares from his brothers.
“Nah,” Connor said. “We should be getting back. It’s getting dark. And the train’s coming through tonight. Be best if Amos and I were there to steer the rabble in the right direction.” He gave Jasper another wink and tipped his hat to the other brothers. “You fellas behave yourselves, all right?”
Jeremiah opened his mouth to respond, earning himself a hard smack on the back of the head by Jed. The oldest brother spoke up instead. “We always do, sheriff.”
Connor snorted and turned his horse around. Amos trotted beside him, glancing behind them every few seconds to make sure the Gaines boys weren’t trying to shoot them in the back.
***
The three brothers stood on the porch as they watched the sheriff and his deputy round the turn into the gulley. When they were out of sight and out of earshot, Jeremiah turned and smacked Jasper upside the head.
“No fraternizin’ with the enemy, you idjit!”
Jasper was ready for it, though, and ducked out of the way so that the slap only slid off the side of his skull instead of giving him its full force. He was so used to it that it didn’t really hurt, but he cringed appropriately and rubbed his hair. “Ow,” he said, without feeling. “I was just being nice. Connor isn’t a bad guy. He’s just doing his job.”
“His job, little boy,” said Jed, stepping up beside Jeremiah to get in his youngest brother’s face. “Is to make our lives more difficult. That don’t sound like a very good job to me.”
“Well, maybe if we—“ Jasper was cut off as Jed grabbed his shirt and yanked him close. The boy could smell the rancid stench of rotten tobacco coming from Jed’s mouth. He bit down on his tongue to keep himself from gagging and tried not to breathe.
“Maybe if we what? Got real jobs, like the good townsfolk? Planted some crops? Raised a family?” Jed’s tone was anything but sincere. He shoved Jasper back against the post Jed had been leaning on earlier. “Shut your hole and go gather that straw I told you to get.”
Jasper hunched his shoulders, making himself as small as possible. His elbow had hit the post hard and he rubbed it to try to stop the burst of pain as Jeremiah put his arm around Jed’s shoulders.
“Now, now, Jed, don’t be too hard on him. You know he ain’t right in the head. Let’s go get drink.” He tossed Jasper a glare behind Jed’s back as he steered them both into the house. Jasper waited until the door shut before slumping down on the steps. He stared at the path Connor and Amos had taken, wishing he’d gone with them.
Chapter 8
“The devil take this place!” Charity slapped at her skirts as she mounted the steps, sending clouds of dust billowing around her. She sighed and looked out across the brown grass toward the corral. David leaned against the fence chatting with the hired men about some ranch nonsense or other. His already blond hair was bleached nearly white from the heat of the summer sun and his once soft hands were rough from days of hard labor.
Six months. She cringed at the thought. It had been six months since she foolishly allowed herself to be pulled into his web. It had been six months since she had become a Banks, a member of the richest family in New York City. And it had been six months since her father- and mother-in-law had
packed her and her new husband onto a one-way train headed west, with David’s full consent.
The wealth was still there. She could buy anything she wanted, and she was by far the best dressed woman in that tiny little frontier town. She could order anything she wanted from her catalogs that she had shipped in from back east. But society? Charity snorted and crossed her arms tightly across her chest as she flopped into one of the wooden rocking chairs on the porch. The closest thing Dixonville came to society was the monthly social the local church ladies held, and those women treated her as if she were the scum of the earth. A transplant know-nothing who wasn’t worth their time.
Her heart fell even further in her chest as she stared at her husband. He barely acknowledged her existence anymore. His time was consumed with the ranch. They had not spoken two words to each other in days.
Her lips pressed together in a tight frown. She did not deserve to be treated like that. She wasn’t just an ornament that could be tossed aside when its owner had finished with it. And she did not deserve to be schlepped away to some backwater dirt hole in the middle of nowhere.
Charity pushed herself to her feet. “David!” She mustered all the sweetness she could and plastered on a smile as she leaned against the railing. When he didn’t turn, she called his name again. “David!” This time she put a little force behind the word, using a tone that she was quickly gaining practice with.
He glanced over his shoulder and raised a hand. “I’ll be in a little later, darlin’,” he shouted back before returning his attention to the ranch hands.
Charity’s nostrils flared. The anger that was quickly becoming her only friend seethed in her chest and made her insides churn. She clenched her teeth tightly and closed her eyes. After several deep breaths, she opened them in time to see a light blue skirt disappear behind a door to her right.
A snarl pulled at Charity’s lips. The kitchen maid was a weaselly, sniveling young woman who was always after David’s affections. When they first arrived, the girl had been the closest thing to a friend Charity had, but as the months wore on and Charity needed a confidant, it became clear where the maid’s loyalties lay.
“Isabelle!”
The young woman squeaked as she turned. She almost dropped the plate she was holding. It was filled with food.
The anger in Charity’s gut churned and roiled. She took a step toward the girl. “Where are you going with that plate?” she asked as she forced a tight smile to her lips. She already knew the answer, though. They both knew Isabelle wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Mr. David asked me to bring it out. He wants to eat in the barn so he can keep working.” The girl refused to meet her eyes. She found the cracks in the floorboards infinitely more interesting than Charity’s bright red face.
“Did he now?” David had been eating out in the barn nearly every night for the last two weeks. He was avoiding Charity, and she was at the end of her rope.
Charity snatched the plate from the girl. “I will take it to him. Thank you.”
The maid bowed quickly and darted into the small pantry. There was nowhere for her to go in there, but she shut the door behind her and hid until Charity left.
Charity slammed out the kitchen door. The porch wrapped around the whole house and she stomped soundly the whole way with her boots thudding on the wood. David was still leaning against the fence, chatting and laughing with the hired hands.
Charity sauntered up to them and smiled sweetly. The ranch hands nodded politely and mumbled a greeting even as their eyes glittered with amusement. They knew what was coming and couldn’t wait for the show. She would give them what they wanted.
She sidled up next to David and held out the plate. “For you, my darling.” She batted her lashes and held her smile firmly in place. He stared at her for a moment before reaching out to take it. Her fingers opened and the plate tumbled to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere..
“Oops,” she said, the smile never leaving her face. With a not-so-apologetic shrug, she turned and walked back to the house with her head held high. The hearty chuckles of the ranch hands followed her all the way to the steps.
Isabelle was out of the cupboard when Charity came back in the house. “I’ll take my supper now, Isabelle.”
She heard some banging and scampering in the kitchen as she settled into her chair in the dining room. The setting sun streamed onto the table. Charity gazed out the window and curled her nose. Fields as far as the eye could see. The nearest neighbor was more than an hour’s carriage ride away. Not that she would ever visit them by choice. The woman was a breeding factory. They had six children already and another on the way. She fawned over her husband, who adored her just the same, and it was the picture perfect family. David hadn’t touched Charity in months. Every child reminded her of her failed marriage. She would just as soon stay away from everyone as subject herself to that again.
“M’lady.” Isabelle kept her eyes on the table as she set the plate in front of Charity.
Charity picked up her fork and knife as she examined the plate. Roasted chicken, corn, and some green stuff that she didn’t recognize. She poked at it with her fork.
“It’s greens, m’lady.”
Charity curled her nose. “I know what it is. And you know I don’t like them.”
“Yes, m’lady. Mr. David asked for them.”
Charity’s teeth clenched so hard they ground audibly. Isabelle had put them on her plate on purpose, out of pure spite. The anger boiled over and got the better of her. “Hold out your hand.”
Isabelle hesitated. “I’m sorry, ma’am?”
Charity turned her head slowly and caught the maid in her glare. “I said... Hold... Out... Your... Hand.”
She stared the girl down as a shaking hand slowly made its way toward the table. Charity snatched it and jerked it over so it was facing palm up. Then she scooped the greens off her plate with her fork and plopped them right onto Isabelle’s waiting hand.
The young woman gasped as the hot food scalded her skin. The look of sheer horror on her face cooled Charity’s anger a bit, but she forced back the guilt that was rising in her chest. She let the woman stand there with the burning pain for another thirty seconds before she waved at her with her fork.
“Well?”
Isabelle’s mouth snapped shut and she scampered out of the dining room into the kitchen. Charity allowed herself a small, bitter smile. It felt good to have power, even if it was just over someone like Isabelle. She was sure she’d hear about it from David in the morning, but at least it would force him to talk to her.
Charity finished her dinner and left the plate for Isabelle to clean up. In the sitting room, she wandered around, looking at the few books on the sparse shelves. She loved the sight of them, but she had already read the ones she could read and David wouldn’t help her with the others. She trailed her fingers along their spines. She pulled out one book and thumbed through it before putting it back. David had refused to buy her more that she could read, instead holding to his father’s claims that women didn’t need to read. She decided she didn’t care what he thought. On their next trip into town, she was going to buy more, regardless of his wishes.
With a small sense of satisfaction at her rebellious decision, she sat in her chair and picked up her sewing. She stared at the half-finished piece for awhile and set it back down. Then she went to the back window and watched the wheat sway gently to the horizon. She wandered to the front window and watched one of the hired men working with the new colt David had purchased from a neighbor.
The sun went down and the night grew dark. Charity sighed. She missed the constant light of the city. The night here was so dark, so quiet. She would wake in the middle of the night to nothing, the sound of absolute silence. She had never been a fearful child, but as she stared out into the blackness surrounding them, her heart sped up. Anything could lurk in the dark, waiting to prey on someone as innocent as she was.
She shuddered and turned fro
m the window. Soft sounds echoed from the kitchen. Isabelle was cleaning up and preparing for the next day. David had not yet returned to the house. With a snort of irritation, Charity stomped upstairs. She got her nightclothes on and let her hair down, then she climbed into bed and snuggled down under the covers.
Her thoughts and dreams swirled together in a confusing mess that alternately left her with feelings of fear, anger, and hate. She woke sometime later in blackness. David was still gone. Voices floated to her from outside. Her room was on the side of the house near the barns, so she crawled from bed and looked out. Torches blazed over near the corral. She saw shadows moving around. A lot of them.
She pulled on a shawl and padded carefully downstairs. Isabelle was there, crouched behind the door. She jumped and squeaked as Charity came up behind her. Her eyes were wide and the light from the torches flickered in them.
The young woman pressed a finger to her lips. “I think it’s bandits, m’lady.”
“Bandits?” Charity leaned against the window frame and peered out into the shadows. Bodies milled about, but there was no yelling or gunfire. “They don’t look like bandits. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
“No, miss, don’t!” Isabelle grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back, but Charity swatted at her hand and narrowed her eyes until the hand released its grip.
She yanked open the door and stepped onto the porch. Her heart sped up and tried to jump into her throat, but she forced herself to move forward. A shadow broke away from the area near the corral and walked quickly toward her.
It was David. “Go back into the house, Charity.” His face was pale in the limited light. Something dark stained his shirt but she couldn’t see what it was from that distance.
“David—“
“Go back in the house.” He didn’t shout, but his voice carried a commanding tone that Charity had never heard before.
Hurt and shame flooded over her. Her mouth worked for a few seconds before she turned and ran back to the house. She slammed the door open and Isabelle jumped back just in time.
