Home by Nightfall

by Alexis Harrington

  Granny Mae took the old man’s veined hand in her own. “Hush, now. You don’t need to talk,” she said gently. The rawboned woman dashed her other hand across her eyes.

  Presently, they heard Cole’s boots thunder on the sidewalk outside, then in the hallway as he ran over the floorboards. “Pop?” His eyes widened when he saw his father stretched out in his bloody shroud. “What the hell happened?”

  “I’m fairly certain it’s a bleeding ulcer,” Jess said.

  “Can you fix it?” he asked.

  Jess shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, honey. It’s too massive,” she said, as if they were the only two people in the room.

  Shaw held Riley transfixed. “Gave…you…only thing I could. Gave you back…your wife…That Gr—Grenf…he’s dead. I fixed… it…they k-killed…him.”

  Everyone looked on in horror. Whit had hung back at a respectful distance. Now he rushed forward. “What are you talking about, Shaw? Who killed him?”

  He stopped breathing, and after an agonizing moment, drew a long, wheezy gasp. “…du-dumb Bauer…any—thing…for money…”

  Those were the last words that Shaw Braddock spoke.

  They resonated in Susannah’s head. Grenfell…he’s dead.

  Before anyone realized he was gone, they heard the front door slam and an engine grind to a start outside.

  Whit Gannon had left and he was in a hurry.

  • • •

  Emmaline had been tied to her kitchen chair for hours. In weather like this, it was unlikely that another one of her customers would go to the trouble to make his way up here. And if one did, she doubted he would be able to overpower both Rush and Lambert, or would even want to try.

  They had eaten all the food in her meager larder. Lambert, blockhead that he was, had cursed her for holding out on them when he discovered her bottle of rose water. He took a drink from the clearly marked bottle and then spit it out, accusing her of trying to poison him. Rush pointed the rifle at him and that sent Lambert into a corner to grumble like an angry Pomeranian. Now Rush sat by the window, watching the looming dusk. No more snow had fallen in the last couple of hours but with the trees that surrounded her, it would be dark sooner up here than out on open land.

  Her face and head throbbed. Rush had hit the same side of her face that Lambert had once broken and she still felt that injury, all these years later, in cold weather.

  “How long are you going to stay here?” she asked, finally. “I want out of this chair and I want both of you gone.”

  “Soon enough, Em, soon enough,” Rush replied. “When it’s dark we’ll go.”

  “Dark!” Lambert piped up from his sulk in the corner.

  Rush ignored him. He’d stopped talking to him altogether.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to leave while you can still see?” she asked. “The terrain is pretty rough around here.”

  “The snow will brighten up things enough. Then we’ll go.” He leveled a look at her. “All of us.”

  • • •

  Whit had been watching Emmaline’s house for the past thirty minutes. He’d edged up to her property on horseback and now was using the tall stands of fir as cover. He knew she wasn’t alone in there—he’d seen Bauer pass the window once. He figured that’s where he’d go if he was running from the law. He didn’t know if the other man was with him and Shaw hadn’t lived long enough to say who else was in on this.

  His biggest worry was that he hadn’t seen Em.

  He was well armed with a double-barrel shotgun and his Colt Frontier revolver, but this was one of the few times he’d had in this job when he wished he had a deputy to bring along. Things could get chancy.

  The nicker of a horse out on the road made him hold his breath, while he waited to find out who else was there.

  “Gannon!” It came as a loud whisper.

  He still waited.

  “Gannon! It’s Riley Braddock.”

  Whit exhaled, only partly relieved. Jesus, what was he doing here? He hardly knew what to make of Braddock. The war had done a job on him. He was erratic, unnerving, and not dependable. Now Whit would have four people to worry about.

  With surprising stealth, Riley made his way from the road to Whit’s hiding place behind a huge Douglas fir.

  “Damn it, Braddock!” he whispered harshly. “Why the hell did you come up here? How did you even find me?” Riley was carrying another rifle—Whit found no comfort in that. “You go on back to town and let me do this. It’s going to get dangerous and I don’t want to have to watch your back, too.”

  He smiled, but what Whit could see of his face in this light was filled with bitter determination. “I know I’m not the man I once was. But I did learn a thing or two about watching an enemy and planning maneuvers, and I’m a decent shot. Mae Rumsteadt told us Bauer came poking around her place with some other man a week or so ago after closing. We put that together with what Shaw said, and figured out they might be up here.”

  Whit shook his head. “I wish Mae had thought to tell me. I’ve been worried that Bauer would come back here and give Em a hard time.”

  “Since you ran out as fast as you did, we thought you knew it too.” He put his shoulder against the tree trunk. “I don’t remember what happened this morning, and Susannah told me she saw me at the back door. But Jessica said that even if I fired that rifle, I couldn’t have been the one who shot Grenfell. The angle of the bullet in his shoulder proved the shot came from the east side of the property. It’s downhill from the bunkhouse. Who knows—maybe I heard the shot and had a lapse. God knows it wouldn’t be the first one.”

  “No offense, Riley, but those ‘lapses’ give me a turn, and I can’t afford for you to have one here. Anyway, shouldn’t you be with your family now that the old man is dead?”

  Riley shrugged, conceding the point. “I can leave. But it looks to me like you could use the help. And the death of my father doesn’t feel like a loss. It’s a relief. He was an unhappy canker sore living in that house.”

  That was about as blunt as anyone could be regarding Shaw Braddock—and as truthful. Whit considered his options and he didn’t like any of them.

  He could send Riley back to town, face this alone, and try his best to keep himself and Em from getting hurt.

  He could keep Riley with him and hope for the best.

  He could leave here himself. No, that one was out of the question.

  Whit sighed. “All right. You can stay, but I want you where I can see you. They’ve got Em’s shotgun and probably whatever they used to shoot Tanner. Maybe more, but I don’t know and—”

  Just then, the door creaked open slowly. Both men turned their attention to the sound and simultaneously put fingers to their own lips.

  A man neither of them recognized poked his head out, then withdrew. The blanket of snow helped dampen usual forest noises and allowed them to hear his low-pitched voice.

  “Okay, it’s clear. You first.” Emmaline appeared dressed in a coat and flimsy shoes. Her hands were tied behind her and she’d been gagged. Whit drew a sharp breath but clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut. Next came Bert Bauer. He was carrying a weapon but it must have been empty of ammunition because he walked with it over his head, arms raised, as if in surrender. The first man who’d looked outside followed, holding a shotgun on them both. Em’s shotgun.

  “Without horses we’re going to have to hoof it for a while. We need to get a couple of mounts. What’s the closest place around here, Bauer?”

  “Well, you know it’s the Braddocks’s. At least we can be sure they have horses.”

  The light from the lamp inside shone across the stranger’s face, and at last, Whit recognized him. Jobie Rush. A mean son of a bitch, but smarter than his accomplice, which made him even more dangerous. He seemed to be considering Bauer’s suggestion.

  “Yeah…at least we took out Grenfell so I doubt there’s anyone in that bunkhouse. We’ll head off that way.”

  Whit knew he couldn
’t let them get far enough into the road to see his own horse or Riley’s. He put a hand on Riley’s arm and nodded toward them. Now, he mouthed.

  He swept out from the cover of the evergreens with Riley trailing behind him slightly. Both of them held their weapons on the two men.

  “Give it up, boys. You can’t win this one,” Whit said.

  Bauer squeaked like a mouse snapped in a mousetrap, his hands still raised. Rush then grabbed Em, using her as a shield while holding the shotgun. The terror in her eyes was obvious in the snow-light as she looked at Whit.

  “Let her go, or this is going to get ugly,” Whit warned.

  “For her maybe, not for me. I’m not taking the blame for any of this—it was all pea-brained Bauer’s idea. He shot Grenfell.”

  Bauer had the nerve to look insulted. “I never did! That old goat Braddock gave us one hundred and fifty dollars apiece to kill him—we only got the down payment—and he said he didn’t care which one did it. He was set on getting rid of him, but Jobie shot him. He still owes us another seventy-five bucks!”

  Rush shoved Emmaline down in the snow and pointed the shotgun at Bauer. “I told you I’d shut you up.” The blast from the weapon erupted like a fireball and Bauer took the full load of the cartridge in the face. Smoke and steam rose from the shattered remains of his head.

  Immediately another shot sounded beside Whit and a neat hole the size of a dime appeared above Rush’s eyebrows. The force blew him off his feet and sprayed the back of his skull and his brains on the snow behind him.

  Whit rushed forward to pull Em to her feet. He yanked down the strip of fabric they’d gagged her with. “Are you all right, honey?”

  After hours of keeping up a brave front and hiding her fear, Emmaline let herself lean against Whit and began trembling so badly he had to put an arm around her to keep her from falling again. He drew a knife from the scabbard on his belt and cut the ties on her hands.

  “I—I didn’t know if I’d live to s-see you ag-again.” Gingerly, she rubbed her wrists.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “N-not really, just a slap—I’ve had worse. B-but if you hadn’t come a-along when you d-did, I don’t know w-what…”

  He took her hands and she flinched. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I burned my hand when I threw boiling water at Lambert.” She peered over at his inert form lying in the snow. In this light it looked as if all that remained of his face was a dark blank. “Is he really dead?”

  “He is, Em.”

  “Thank God,” she said, sighing. “It’s not right to be glad, but I can’t help it. That man gave me nothing but misery.”

  “And he would have gone on giving you misery as long as he could. Now it’s over. Rush is dead too. I didn’t know he’d come around here again, but I chased him off about three, four years ago when he tried to rob the drugstore. He shot Tanner Grenfell this morning—he’s in Doc Jessica’s office right now.”

  “Tsk. I knew Jobie Rush was lying when he said Lambert did it. He couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a tractor. Now they both got what they deserved.”

  Whit tightened his arm around her and turned to Riley. “Damn!” he exclaimed, genuinely awed. “How did you make that shot? The light is no good—”

  “There were a lot of black rats in the trenches—they loved to come out at night.” Then, as if his legs would no longer hold him, Riley sat down hard on the ground.

  Whit looked around. The tall evergreens loomed like dark, hulking giants from a forest straight out of someone’s nightmares. Overhead their branches rustled in the icy wind. “I’ve got to get us down from here. It’s been a hell of day all the way around. Em, can you go inside and put on warmer clothes? I’m taking you into town with us.”

  She nodded and managed to straighten away from him to go back inside.

  Whit hunkered down next to Riley. “Are you all right, son?”

  Riley looked sort of dazed, but he appeared to recognize Whit and know where he was. “I only did what—he would have killed—I had to come up—” He couldn’t seem to catch and complete any one sentence.

  “That’s all right,” Whit said and thumped him on the back. “Don’t try to explain. I’m just glad you were here.”

  “What—what about them?” Riley asked, nodding toward the two bodies.

  “The weather will keep them. But that’s another reason I want to get Emmaline out of here. She doesn’t need to look out her front window in the morning and see that. I’ll round up some men tomorrow and get this taken care of.”

  Riley struggled to his feet, unwilling to accept a hand up from Whit. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to skip that.”

  “I would expect so. Your job here is done.”

  • • •

  Susannah woke with a start, at first not realizing where she was.

  Then she lifted her head from Tanner’s hospital bed and remembered.

  Looking around, she saw that the lights were dimmed but still on in the hallway and in Jessica’s private office. She stretched her neck to the right and left, trying to loosen the muscles that had stiffened while she slept in the awkward position.

  Hushed voices from down the hall caught her attention.

  “…don’t worry about that, Cole. I’ll see to it that he looks proper for the funeral.”

  That was Fred Hustad’s voice. Fred Hustad, the undertaker.

  Susannah snapped her attention back to her husband.

  He lay stretched out in front of her, and she put her hand to his forehead. She couldn’t be certain but he seemed as feverish as ever. He turned his head toward her. Without thinking, she pressed the palm of her hand to the locket beneath her blouse.

  “Hi,” he said softly. His voice was rough from hours of disuse and his speech sluggish from the medications.

  She was glad that he was coherent and recognized her. “Tanner…how are you feeling?”

  He worked his unsteady free hand up toward his injured shoulder and felt the bandages. “Not so good. Mule-kicked. I was—someone shot me—Jess patched me up?”

  She smiled and pretended that everything was fine. She lifted his hand from the bandage and took it between both of her own. “Yes, and you gave us quite a scare. The damage was worse than she’d first hoped and she had to repair it. But you’ve got a fever and we’re going to bring it down.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “God…what stinks? Not me, is it?”

  “Not exactly. It’s some kind of bee goop and honey that Granny Mae put on your wound.”

  “Smells this bad, must work.”

  She smiled again. “Do you feel up to a few spoonfuls of beef broth?” He sounded groggy but she thought she’d try.

  “Guess so.”

  She got a spoon and poured some broth from the saucepan at the back of the stove where she’d been keeping it warm. Carrying the spoon and a cup along with a towel, she sat down beside him again.

  “It’s been snowing off and on all day.” She put the towel under his chin to catch any dribbles. He accepted being fed with no argument. If he’d felt better he would have resisted.

  “Who…who shot me?”

  Another spoonful of broth.

  “We found out it was Bert Bauer.”

  He turned his head away, refusing more broth.

  “Shit.”

  Susannah sat back and put the spoon in the cup. He didn’t sound surprised. In fact, it was as if he’d been expecting this possibility.

  Beyond their screened-off corner, she heard the sound of a cart or table being wheeled down the hall and out the front door.

  Jessica, carrying a small lamp, stepped around the screen and prevented Susannah from asking Tanner any questions, which was probably best at this point. She didn’t want to wear him out.

  “Tanner? I thought I heard your voice,” Jess said. She was still dressed in her work clothes.

  “Have you slept at all?” Susannah asked her.

  “I took a couple
of cat naps on the sofa in my office. Cole put the boys to bed upstairs in the apartment and they’re asleep. There’s been a lot of chaos for everyone today.” She turned to Tanner. “And how are you doing?”

  “Not so great. Bauer shot me?”

  Susannah and Jess exchanged looks. “That’s what we think. Whit took off to look for him.”

  “I—didn’t even know…didn’t know he was back.”

  Jess felt his forehead and put the lamp on a table beside her. Fishing around in her apron pocket, she produced a thermometer. “Let’s not worry about that now. Whit will take care of it. Keep this under your tongue for a minute.” She looked under the bandage and held the lamp closer for a better view, and winced.

  Susannah gave her a smile. “I’m glad he has two skilled people to look after him. You and Granny Mae.”

  Jessica took his pulse and then pulled the thermometer from his mouth. “Let’s see what’s what here.”

  Susannah pulled the sheet up around Tanner’s chin. “Try to sleep. I’m going to stretch my muscles.” Leaning down, she kissed him on the forehead and the lips.

  She looked around the edge of the screen to the wall clock. “It’s almost nine. This has been a long day.” And it had been. She and Tanner hadn’t slept much the night before and their day had begun before sunrise. Susannah tipped her head toward Jess’s office and they went in and sat on the horsehair sofa.

  “His temperature is one hundred three degrees. That’s just too high. Let’s get some more snow for his head. I’ll send for Mae to see if she has any other ideas.”

  “Oh, God, Jess.”

  “Don’t go to pieces on me now. Tanner is strong and young. We just need to find the right thing to give his system a hand in fighting this. Fred Hustad just took Shaw’s body over to his place. Cole went with them,” Jess said, taking up a coffee pot that sat on her desk. She shook it but there was only a little at the bottom. “I don’t even know where Riley went. He left after Whit did.”

  Susannah lifted her hands in wonder. “How is Cole taking it?”

  She put down the pot. “I think he’s kind of numb, really. We haven’t had much chance to talk about it, and considering what Shaw did to Tanner, I think he’s had two major blows in one night. What about you?”