A Clear Hope (Kansas Crossroads Book 5)

by Amelia C. Adams

  It would appear that his paddy wagon was also missing. He’d tied the reins to this post, and now, nothing. Of all the . . . He marched over to the pastor’s house, fuming all the way. As he turned onto the pastor’s street, he saw Robert Osbourne out front, looking as though he’d been waiting for this visit.

  “Where is she?” Gabe asked, not bothering with any sort of pleasantries.

  “Well, we have a little situation,” Robert said, resting his foot on the bottom rung of his fence. “Margaret has sought asylum in the church, under the guidance of my wife.”

  “She did what?” Gabe swore. “How . . . how could you let this happen?”

  Robert held up both hands. “I didn’t let anything happen, Deputy. I was on the porch, talking with Adam Brody, I turned around, and my wife was gone. The next thing I know, she’s got Margaret holed up in the church.” He started to chuckle. “Apparently, they climbed out the window and down the side of the veranda roof with Margaret still in her nightgown. When I invited Margaret to attend church, I hadn’t meant for her to take me so literally.”

  Gabe pressed his lips together. He was sure there was some humor to be found in that, but not right now. Right now, he was so angry, he wanted to punch something. “Is your wife still at the church? I’d like to speak with her.”

  “She is, but I’d best warn you, Deputy, to keep your temper. I preach against violence, but I won’t hesitate to step in if someone’s unkind to my wife.”

  “Understood.” Gabe walked down the street to the white clapboard church. Sure enough, there was his wagon, reins looped over the hitching post out front. He climbed the steps, trying to calm down, which wasn’t an easy task.

  Raising his fist, he knocked three times.

  The door opened to a smiling Olivia Osbourne. “Why, hello, Deputy. I’m so glad you could stop by. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  Gabe gritted his teeth, then forced himself to smile in return. “I understand you helped Margaret Smith climb out a second-story window at the Brody Hotel just moments ago, Mrs. Osbourne.”

  “Yes, I certainly did, but it wasn’t as exciting as it sounds. There were handholds nearly all the way, what with the veranda roof and trellis and whatnot. It makes me think that Mr. Brody should look to the security of his hotel, if it’s so easy to come and go from it.”

  “And my wagon?”

  “It was very kind of you to let us borrow it, but we’re done now, so you may take it back.”

  Gabe tried to ignore her breezy disregard. “And Margaret Smith has sought asylum in the church building?”

  “Yes, she has. We’ve just discovered that the pews really don’t make comfortable beds, but we’ll get that figured out.” She met his eyes, and her smile dropped. “You know the law, Deputy. She’s safe here until she chooses to come out of her own accord—and I’m sure that having more evidence in the case would be a nice touch. You might be interested to know that upon hearing her name, her memory has returned.”

  Finally, some good news. “It has? May I speak to her?”

  “You may come in and sit on the back pew. I’ll ask you to leave your Colt at the door, however—my husband doesn’t approve of weapons in church.”

  Gabe unbuckled his holster, and Mrs. Osbourne held the door open all the way. He placed the holster on the floor inside the door while she fastened the lock again, and then he followed her farther into the building.

  Margaret Smith sat on one of the pews near the front, clutching her shawl around her shoulders in a familiar pose.

  “Hello, Deputy,” she said, standing up and turning around to greet him. “I’m sorry about this—I really am. You’ve been very kind, and I know I’m making your job harder. But I’m not a murderer. Please believe me.”

  Gabe slid into the back pew and placed his hat next to him. “I’m prepared to listen to whatever you have to say.”

  Margaret walked up the aisle and took a seat in the pew across from him. “This is a difficult conversation to have in a church, Deputy, but I suppose that if you can’t be honest in front of God, where can you be honest?” She took a deep breath. “Several days ago, I discovered that my husband, Edward, has been having an affair with the neighbor’s wife.” She glanced at him apologetically. “It was a horrible blow. Our marriage had been difficult from the start—he wooed me with flowers and I thought I was in love, but as soon as the ring was on my finger, I was relegated to cook and housekeeper, and he rarely even spoke to me. But I grew used to it, and focused on our home, and I thought things were all right. But then I was out in the chicken coop, gathering the eggs, and I glanced over at our neighbors’ farm. That’s when I saw . . .”

  Margaret paused. “At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but no. My husband and Nellie Thomas were out behind the barn, holding each other in a very tight embrace, kissing as though . . . as though they were starving, to be quite honest.” She blushed and looked down at her hands. “There was no mistaking what they were doing, and there was no mistaking that it was my husband. I had sewn him that shirt, and when they . . . when they finally broke apart and I could see his face clearly, it was definitely him.

  “When he came home that night, I asked him about it, very casually, and he just as casually replied that they’d been seeing each other for quite some time, and that kissing wasn’t all. I’m sorry—this is hardly church talk.”

  Gabe shifted a little in his seat to face her more directly. “I understand. Trust me, I’ve heard much worse, and in churches and general stores and all sorts of places. Please, go on when you’re ready.”

  Margaret pressed the palms of her hands together. “He finished his dinner and went to bed, and that seemed to be the end of it for him. I stayed up to do some mending, and while I worked, I just kept thinking about it and thinking about it, and I decided I wasn’t all right with it. I couldn’t be one of those wives who turns a blind eye to a mistress and pretends that everything’s fine. Talking to my husband hadn’t produced any results at all, so I decided to talk to Nellie.

  “The next morning, I watched Edward leave. He walked toward town and not toward the neighbors’, so I thought I was safe. I went over and spoke with Nellie. She laughed like it was some kind of joke, and told me she was so proud of me for figuring it out after all that time.” Margaret’s voice took on a bitter note. “I asked her to stop seeing my husband, and she laughed again. She had no intention of giving him up.

  “Just then, Edward came in the door, and looked shocked to see me there. I suppose he’d circled back so I wouldn’t know where he was going—he’d probably been doing that all along. Nellie told him that I wanted them to stop seeing each other. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me back to our house, where he yelled at me for several minutes. He wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say, and finally he became so angry, he hit me across the face, and I fell and hit my head on the fireplace hearth. That’s the last thing I remember until waking up here in Topeka.”

  Gabe nodded his acceptance of her story. “You’ve been accused of murder. Do you have any idea who was killed?”

  “None. I’m sorry.”

  “And you have no memory of how you came to be on the train?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  Gabe looked toward the front of the chapel, trying to process everything he’d just heard. He knew the sound of lies, and he believed that Margaret was telling the truth. That is, he believed that she was telling the truth as she knew it. There was that block of time she couldn’t remember, and if she’d committed a murder during that time, and if her brain was blocking the memory, she could think herself innocent all she liked, but that wouldn’t make it true.

  It also didn’t change the fact that he’d been tasked to arrest this woman.

  “Mrs. Smith, you’ve taken asylum in this church, and I must respect that. However, you can’t stay here forever, which I’m sure you know.”

  “It’s not my intention to try,” she replied. “All I’m asking is for
a little time, a little investigation. If you bring me evidence that I’m guilty, I’ll come with you willingly and accept my punishment. But when I believe in my heart of hearts that I’m innocent, I must fight for my freedom.”

  He met her earnest gaze and nodded once. “All right. I’ll see what I can find out. But rest assured, at the first conclusive evidence I find, I will be back here and you will be taken into custody. I’m not used to showing up without my suspect in tow, Mrs. Smith. I’m very good at my job, and I’ve put away dozens of dangerous men. I won’t shirk from that task because you’re a woman—only the fact that you’ve taken asylum is keeping me from marching you out the door right now.”

  “I understand that, Deputy. You’re being more than fair, and I appreciate it.”

  He shook his head. He’d never been thanked by a suspect before.

  “I’ll be back. In the meantime, see if you can’t remember anything more. Even a flicker of memory would be a help.”

  “I will.”

  Gabe grabbed his hat, stood up, and walked toward the chapel door, where Mrs. Osbourne stood waiting. “You’re a very clever woman, Mrs. Osbourne,” he said. “Very clever indeed. Remind me never to sit across from you in a game of cards.”

  “She deserves a chance to prove her innocence,” Mrs. Osbourne replied. “That’s all I was trying to give her.”

  “Well, between you and your little accomplice, that’s what you’ve gotten. I don’t know how the two of you cooked it up, or how you got Mrs. Smith to go along with it, but you’ve met your objective.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “My little accomplice?”

  “Abigail.”

  “Oh, Abigail. I’m afraid I’m the one who cooked up this nefarious plan, Deputy. I asked her to distract you, but she didn’t know why.”

  And distract him she had, with her beautiful eyes. Gabe cleared his throat. “I’ve promised to do my best in looking into this case, and I mean it. I also promised your husband that I’d be a gentleman in regards to you, and I’m doing my best, although I must say, I’ve heard how Robert threw you in a pond, and at the moment, it’s very tempting.”

  Mrs. Osbourne threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t blame you in the slightest, Deputy. I’d be rather perturbed as well, if our situations were reversed. And yet, I don’t regret doing it. I’m quite sure that justice will be served, and I’m proud to have a hand in it.”

  Gabe gave a curt nod and strode outside, putting on his hat against the glaring sun of midday. He wasn’t done—not by a long shot. He was only just starting his investigation, and one way or another, he would find out the truth, no matter who it hurt. Someone had been killed. Justice must be served.

  ***

  Abigail placed a loaf of bread inside the picnic basket on the table, then closed up the top. She’d already put together a bundle of Margaret’s clothes—her new ones, and her old ones, freshly washed—and it stood ready to go.

  “Take another jar of jam,” said a voice behind her. Abigail startled and spun around.

  “Oh, Elizabeth! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Elizabeth Brody came into the kitchen and took a jar from the shelf. “Too deep in thought to hear much of what’s going on around you, I imagine.”

  “You’d be right.” Abigail took the proffered jar and added it to the basket. “Deputy Hanks is very angry with me, and I don’t know how to mend it.”

  Elizabeth leaned against the table. “From what I’ve heard, he has a good right to be angry. Didn’t you keep him out in the hall while Margaret and Olivia climbed out the window?”

  “I did, but I had no idea they were going to escape. Truth is, I don’t know what I thought they’d be doing. Once Gabe and I were out in the hall, I wasn’t thinking about much of anything.”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Something you want to share?”

  Abigail felt heat come to her cheeks. “He came very close to kissing me. I’m sure he would have if we hadn’t discovered the escape.”

  “And you would have liked that.”

  “I would have liked it with my whole soul.” Abigail played with the knot on the bundle of clothes. “He makes me feel . . . I can’t even describe it. Like the whole world is a sky full of stars.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I’d say you described it quite well. And now you want to make amends . . . I’m not sure that taking supplies to Margaret is the best way to show Deputy Hanks that you’re sorry.”

  “I know. It’s terribly contradictory, but I can’t let her live there in her nightgown, can I? And Mr. Brody was more than happy to say yes when I asked about the food.”

  “You asked my husband, and not Miss Hampton?” Elizabeth sounded amused.

  “Yes. I figured I’d be more likely to get a yes from him.” Abigail felt sheepish at the admission.

  Elizabeth just laughed. “Adam never has been able to turn down a damsel in distress. How do you think we ended up together? Go. Take your offerings. And then speak to Deputy Hanks. True, you’re on opposite sides right now, but he’s a good man, and he deserves to see your heart.”

  Abigail nodded, even though the idea of telling Gabe how she felt made her nervous. She should start with an explanation, and then an apology. Or maybe, an apology, and then an explanation. She sighed. How was she even to go about this?

  She picked up the basket, then the bundle, finding it awkward, but she managed to open the door. When she walked outside, Tom White was standing there with the buggy. “You can’t carry all that,” he said. “Let me give you a ride.”

  “Thank you, Tom.” She more than willingly surrendered her load, and he placed it in the buggy. Then he gave her a hand up, and they were off.

  “Harriet can’t stop giggling,” he said as he guided the buggy around the corner. “Says it was something else, watching Olivia and Margaret stealing the deputy’s wagon.”

  “She saw them?”

  Tom nodded. “Says she wishes she’d thought of it herself. I can’t see as I’d fancy my wife climbing down the outside of a building, but no harm came of it.”

  “Thankfully.”

  The church was just a short distance from the hotel, so a moment later, they pulled up in front. Tom carried her things to the porch steps, then touched the brim of his hat. “There you go.”

  “Thanks, Tom. Please let Miss Hampton know I’ll be back in time for the next train.”

  “Will do.”

  Abigail climbed the church steps and tapped on the door, calling out, “Margaret, it’s Abigail.”

  Moments later, the lock clicked, and Margaret opened the door. “Hello,” she said. “Oh, you brought clothes. Thank goodness. This is a lovely nightgown, and I’m glad for it, but I would much rather be dressed.”

  “I did figure as much.”

  Abigail unpacked the food from her basket and set it on a small table in the back room while Margaret changed. “That’s much better,” Margaret said as she pinned up her hair. “I’m starting to feel almost human again.”

  “Your bandage is coming loose, though,” Abigail told her. “I should send Dr. Wayment by to check it.”

  “That’s probably for the best.” Margaret took the plate Abigail offered and sat down. “I didn’t mean to become such a burden. It was bad enough, making everyone wait on me hand and foot at the hotel, but now, you’re all going out of your way to take care of me here, and that’s far more inconvenient for you. Deputy Hanks was very kind, though, and—”

  “Deputy Hanks?” Abigail interrupted. She hadn’t meant to be rude, but the words just slipped out.

  “Yes. He came by to talk with me. He listened to everything I said, and he promised to look into it.” Margaret paused. “I have to say, he’s a very nice-looking man.”

  “He is? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh, don’t play coy with me, Abigail. You can’t hide your pink cheeks—you have feelings for him.”

  “I . . . All right, I suppose I do.” At the admission, Abigail’s cheeks flus
hed even more. Again. It was infuriating, actually. “He is very handsome, and he’s kind, but he’s also firm and unwavering. There’s just something about a lawman. I . . . I feel safe when I’m around him.”

  “And you haven’t always felt safe,” Margaret guessed.

  Abigail didn’t want to share her story just yet, the past she shared with her sister, Jeanette. While Jeanette had been the target of her uncle’s advances, Abigail had stood in the way, and that constant threat and the ever-present need to be vigilant had engraved themselves on her young soul. “No, I haven’t, and it’s nice to feel protected.”

  Margaret didn’t push. “I believe he’ll do his best to find out the truth. And if it turns out I’m guilty, then so be it.”

  The two women chatted a moment longer, and then it was time for Abigail to leave to get ready for the train. As she walked back to the hotel, she thought about what Margaret had said. It wasn’t possible that she was guilty. It just wasn’t.

  Chapter Four

  Colonel Gordon gave a quick nod. “Of course you must go to Wichita,” he said. “Work with Deputy Earp and gather all the information you can. Keep in mind that our job is to apprehend criminals. I can tell you’d like to see this woman exonerated, but she’s not your friend. She’s a suspect, and every attempt must be made to find the truth. I don’t like the idea of a female killer any more than you do, but it does happen, and we can’t let pretty faces or sympathetic stories tug at our heartstrings.”

  “Understood, sir.” Gabe hooked his thumb through his belt buckle. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible. When can you spare me?”

  The marshal looked over his desk, although Gabe didn’t know why—there was never anything of importance on it, usually just the newspaper and some lunch crumbs. "You could leave tomorrow, if that suits you.”

  “It does, sir. Thank you. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

  “Be quick, but be thorough. Don’t miss a thing. If this woman has to hang for murder, we’d better be sure about it.”