After she raised her right hand and promised to tell the truth, prosecutor Marshall Hastings sauntered up to her. He wore a faint, smug sneer.
“Miss Ford, please tell the court how the defendant came to be on your property in the first place.”
“I hired him to make repairs around the farm, and to plant my kitchen garden.”
“Isn’t it true that Mr. Hicks, who has a reputation for chronic public drunkenness, was arrested for robbing” —here he consulted his papers— “one Farley Wright, and the sheriff sentenced him to work for you?” His tone was so insulting and self-satisfied, she wanted to smack him.
“He took one egg. And he’s not a drunkard anymore.”
“Yes or no, Miss Ford.”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Apparently he did improve, working for you. So much so, that you developed, shall we say, a fondness for Mr. Hicks?”
“I respect him, yes.”
“Oh, come now, Miss Ford. That would seem to be an understatement, in light of your earlier proclamation. Don’t your feelings run somewhat deeper than respect?”
Allie looked at Jeff as she spoke, connecting her gaze with his bottomless green eyes. “I love him. He is a worthy, honorable man.”
“And isn’t is safe to assume that those feelings prejudice your testimony? Are you really willing to throw away your reputation for a condemned man? Would you brand yourself as a woman of loose morals, a veritable whore of Babylon, in a doomed attempt to exonerate him?”
Rapt silence blanketed the saloon. If circumstances had not been so grave, Allie might have even laughed at Hastings’ ridiculous attempt to give the small, backward town of Decker Prairie Babylonian proportions. But nothing about this was the least bit amusing.
Allie looked at Jeff again and saw love and emotion brimming in his eyes. Then she leveled a direct, even gaze on Hastings and lifted her chin. She spoke to the prosecutor, but raised her voice to carry to every ear in the place. “I would much rather be known as Jeff Hicks’ whore from this day forward, than to live with the knowledge that I allowed a gentle, good man, an innocent man, to be convicted of a murder he didn’t commit. Yes, I was in his company the night of Cooper Matthews’ murder. And when Mr. Hicks heard trespassers and went to investigate, he took the axe with him.”
“How can you be so certain of that?” Hastings demanded.
“I’ve been responsible for our farm and everything on it since my father became ill years ago. I know which tools we own and those we don’t. We don’t own a pick. When Sheriff Mason brought Mr. Hicks out to work for us, he didn’t carry a pick with him. Not only that, last winter I had Seth Wickwire check the shovels, the axe, and the rake in the barn for faulty handles. He took all of them into his father’s store for replacements. Seth would testify to that, I’m sure. If every merchant we’ve ever done business with produced our sales records for farm tools, they would not find one for a pick.”
“Where, then, did the pick come from that pierced Cooper Matthew’s skull?” Hastings asked.
“I saw the empty salt sacks that Floyd and Cooper left in our destroyed field. I’d say they were split open with the pick they brought with them.”
“By God, that’s a dirty lie!” Floyd exclaimed, jumping up from the bench where he sat. “Hicks had that pick in his hands when he come out to the field.”
“I saw it too!” Olivia agreed, her eyes wild. The insane glint she saw there reminded Allie of the morning they discovered the dummy. She had charged out of the house like a she-devil, not the delicate flower she had always pretended to be. With a blinding flash of insight, Allie suddenly realized that the taunts might have been true—perhaps there was a crazy Ford sister. Olivia. But regardless of that, she could not allow Olivia to condemn Jeff.
Allie looked directly at Floyd first, and then her sister. “The pick that killed Cooper Matthews belonged either to Floyd Endicott, or to Cooper himself.” Eyeing Floyd again, she said, “I’m willing to bet my life that Jeff Hicks didn’t kill Cooper. And if he didn’t do it, who does that leave? Who had the motive? Wouldn’t he have been so furious when he learned that Cooper had cheated him, that he flew into a killing rage?”
In the midst of her nervous righteousness, a fragment of a memory popped up in Allie’s mind—never look a threatening animal in the eyes. It will only provoke—
Floyd’s jaw flopped open, revealing gums that were missing several teeth. “You can’t hang that on me, you goddamned meddlin’ female!” He lunged across the saloon and launched himself at Allie. She fell backwards, still in the chair, with Floyd sitting on her chest, and his hands around her throat. The man’s face twisted into an angry, frustrated mask. “Cooper was always sayin’ how stupid I was, an’ how he had all the brains. He called me names and cheated me out of the money I was supposed to get—me, the only friend he had. I wasn’t gonna put up with it anymore—no, sir! He cussed me out again that night for takin’ the wagon out to the road and leavin’ him to face Hicks. Called me stupid, again. I seen that pick in the wagon bed—I was just gonna knock him on his ass. It was just a tap, a little tap! But it went right through his brain and finished him off! I guess he won’t be callin’ me stupid no more!”
Panic filled Allie, a gnawing mortal fear that she would die. Floyd’s filthy hands around her neck were like iron vises cutting off her air. She couldn’t breathe—God couldn’t they see she was suffocating? She struggled and tried to lift her own hands to claw at his, but her arms were trapped under his knees. In her chest, her heart was screaming for air. Faces. There were faces behind Floyd’s, fading in and out—there was Jeff with his arm around the man’s neck, and Will Mason was on the other side. No air . . . no air. Everyone was talking at once and yelling, but the sounds began to fade away as if disappearing into a dark mist. The faces dissolved behind a grainy black curtain that materialized before Allie’s eyes. Jeff—dear God, where was he? She couldn’t see him.
She couldn’t see anything.
~~*~*~*~~
As tense as a buggy spring, Jeff sat beside Althea’s inert form where she lay on Doc Brewster’s examination table. It smelled of carbolic in here, and faintly, of ether. His elbows on his knees, he rested his chin on his interlaced fingers and never took his eyes from her face. He was afraid that if he did, even for a second, she’d be gone. Jesus, she was so pale and fragile-looking; except for the wine-colored bruises on her neck, she looked, well, he dare not let himself even think the word.
He’d carried her in his arms here to the doctor’s office once they were able to pry Floyd’s hands off her. Jeff had taken a swing at him, connecting solidly with the man’s unshaven jaw, and Will Mason had immediately taken Floyd into custody. Amid the chaos, Judge Cavanaugh had found Jeff not guilty, and then ordered Will to return after locking up Floyd to charge Olivia with perjury and obstruction of justice.
Jeff had been keeping vigil by Allie’s side ever since, and it seemed as if hours had passed. Before going back to the saloon, the doctor had said she’d be fine, but he also said she was in shock. Jeff took one of her hands and pressed her fingers to his lips, terrified by their iciness. He’d never known a finer, stronger woman, or seen a braver deed than when she strode through the disapproving crowd at the Liberal Saloon, saying that she had spent the night with him. He hadn’t wanted her to say that. He’d wanted to spare her from the ostracism that must surely follow her admission, especially with that bastard, Marshall Hastings, roasting her over the open flame of the witness stand. But she hadn’t faltered or hesitated.
Allie Ford had saved his life, in every possible way a man’s life could be saved. She’d given him back his dignity and self-respect, she had faith in him, and in front of the town of Decker Prairie, had declared her love for him.
“Allie, honey, please wake up,” he murmured, trying to swallow the knot of emotion closing his throat. “I want to tell you how much I love you. Do you know that? I love you more than I do my own life.”
The lo
ng, slender fingers he held in his hand twitched then. Jeff jumped up and stared into her still face. “Allie?”
She moaned and turned her head slightly.
“Allie, it’s Jeff. I’m right here.” He squeezed her hand. “Can you feel that?”
She squeezed back, and her eyes fluttered open. She looked puzzled and disoriented, but Jeff grinned with relief and said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d been restored to him.
“What happened?” she asked muzzily. Her voice was a bit hoarse, no doubt from the way that son of a bitch, Endicott, had bruised it. Slowly she looked around and a slight frown creased her brow. “Where is this?”
“Everything is fine now, honey, just fine.” He reminded her about Floyd’s attack. “You passed out and I brought you down here to Doc Brewster’s. How do you feel?”
“Kind of achy, like I fell or something.” Her eyes widened as they cleared. “What about the trial?”
“I’m free, Allie. Because you were brave enough to speak up.”
“Oh, Jeff, really?” She lifted heavy arms to hug his neck. They fell back to the table. He scooped her into his embrace. “But what about Floyd?”
“Floyd’s in jail and he’ll stand trial for murdering Cooper. After all, he confessed in front of a couple of hundred witnesses.”
Her smile was radiant, then it dimmed. “I wonder what will happen to Olivia.”
Jeff sighed. “It’s time that you stopped worrying about her. You did more than anyone could expect of you. Now it’s time for your to live your own life. You have that right. You have the right to be happy. And, hell, I guess I do, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers briefly, his eyes closed. “God, when I think about how close I came to losing everything—we’ll go make a new start. We can leave, or there’s my land. I’ve still got that. We could go there.” He kissed her, savoring the feel of her tender lips beneath his. “What do you say, Allie? Will you be my wife?”
With a sound that was something between a giggle and a sob, she threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, Jeff, yes. I will!”
“How about a quiet little ceremony before Judge Cavanaugh leaves town?”
She looked at him, and Jeff saw the love and devotion on her pretty face. “It sounds perfect!” She hugged him tighter.
Allie was so happy, she wanted to share it with the whole world. She would climb to the roof of Wickwire’s and shout that Jeff Hicks loved her and she loved him. Everyone in town would gather in the street below and give her gracious applause, glad that two of Decker Prairie’s least popular citizens had found joy at last. She almost giggled at the fantasy, as implausible as it was.
Just then, Doctor Brewster walked into the examination room. “Well, young lady, I’m glad to see you back among us again. You gave us quite a scare.”
He looked into Allie’s eyes and had her stand up to make sure her balance and strength had returned. “Good girl,” he said, nodding in approval. “In case you didn’t hear, your sister is in a peck of trouble with the judge.”
Allie gazed up at the doctor. “Is—is he going to send her to jail?”
“Bah, no! John Cavanaugh wouldn’t put a woman in jail for something like perjury. She might wish he had, though, before long. He sentenced her to work for Mary and Louise Pratt, for five years. They’ll having her hopping night and day. And Will Mason has to make sure she serves her time. They might be old, but as their doctor I can tell you they’re in perfect health, and I imagine they’ll both outlive that sentence.”
Allie sighed. Five years. Now her sister would learn what it meant to fetch and carry and wait on someone, to the extreme. As angry as she was with her sister, Allie was glad that Olivia wouldn’t be going to jail. But she couldn’t muster one spark of sympathy over the punishment that had been imposed upon her.
“Doc, do you know if the judge is still down at the Liberal?” Jeff asked, putting his arm around Allie’s waist.
“As far as I know. But I wouldn’t think you’d want to have anymore dealings him for a long time.”
“Just the opposite—I need to talk to him right away, before he leaves.” Jeff smiled and pulled Allie a bit closer. “I need to see the man about a wedding.”
EPILOGUE
Carrying two blue enamel mugs of coffee, Allie stepped out to the porch swing to enjoy the last peachy fingers of the August sunset, and the view of a good-looking horseman riding up to the front step.
“How did you know that’s one of the things I’m craving?” Jeff asked, climbing down from a sleek blood bay gelding that matched the color of Allie’s hair. He tied its reins to a railing post.
She laughed. “I’m getting the hang of you, I think. How did your meeting with Eli go?”
“Good. He’ll take corn and potatoes for the store.”
A year after their ordeal, he was more breathtakingly handsome than she would have ever dreamed the day he appeared at her door with Will Mason. He had filled out with lean muscle and sinew. His sandy hair was sunbleached from his days outdoors, and his eyes sparkled with joy and health. He pulled off his leather gloves and took a mug from her.
Settling beside her, he patted her thigh with his free hand. Intimacy and understanding, to be able to touch and be touched, seemed like never-ending miracles to her. They renewed her spirit daily, and she felt like the luckiest woman on earth to be loved by Jeff Hicks.
They sat in easy, companionable silence, looking out at the rolling acres surrounding their new home. This was Jeff’s land, which had stood empty and untended for years. Some acres were under cultivation now, and the coming harvest would be a good one. The house still smelled of fresh paint and wood, flowers grew in wild profusion in the beds surrounding the foundation, and it was just another symbol of their new beginning, separately and together.
That new beginning had started the day immediately following the trial. Judge Cavanaugh had performed a simple but heartfelt ceremony for them in Will Mason’s office.
As if he now read her thoughts, he commented, “It’s hard to believe that a year has passed since the trial. And everything else. No more bad dreams?”
She smiled and squeezed his broad wrist where it lay on her thigh. “No, not anymore. Not since the fire.”
Despite her happiness with Jeff, Allie had been plagued by nightmares that made sleep a time of terror rather than rest. Images of her mother had still haunted her.
Finally, after one especially difficult night, Jeff had put Allie on the wagon seat next to him and driven her to the Ford farm. With no one living on the property, it had looked worse than ever. While she had watched, Jeff splashed two five-gallon cans of kerosene around the barn walls. Then he’d handed her a match.
“Go ahead, Allie.” She’d climbed down from the wagon, walked up to the barn, and struck the match on a rock. Then she threw it onto a puddle of the fuel. Within minutes, the entire structure had been engulfed in towering sheets of white-edged flames. They had stayed and watched until the roof and walls crashed in, and nothing was left but a huge pile of red embers and blackened timbers.
With the burning of the barn, Allie was finally at peace with her ghosts. She and Jeff later sold the property to a newly-arrived Swedish family from Minnesota, who didn’t mind building a new barn, or the fact that two graves occupied a fenced space on the land.
With her foot on the porch flooring, Allie gave a gentle push and set the swing into motion. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about, well, everything. My mother was never right again after Olivia was born, but I think that was only made worse by my father. He really was an unsympathetic tyrant. And even though Olivia was his favorite, he filled her head with poison and resentment all her life, and encouraged her to depend solely on me. She was as much a prisoner in that life as I was. In the end, she got caught up in her own web of deceit. There was no one to step in and smooth everything over, as I’d always done for her. Now she’s paying for that.”
Jeff took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Maybe she’s finally growi
ng up.”
“I hope so.” Allie gazed out at the darkening blue sky, and noted a pair of swallows, winging their way home in the twilight.
She’d seen Olivia just once in the past year. It had been at Wickwire’s while Allie was shopping for curtain material. Louise Pratt had tottered into the store, with Olivia trailing behind and the old harpy barking orders at her. Allie hadn’t spoken to Olivia, and her sister had stared through her as if she weren’t there. She didn’t know if their breach would ever be healed, but it didn’t matter now.
“You know, I’m glad I built this house with the front porch facing south,” he said, changing the subject, and the timbre of his voice. “That way we can enjoy the sun and the moon. It’s very romantic, don’t you think?” He set his coffee down and put an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.
“Hmm, yes, it is. That reminds me—you said the coffee was one of the things you’d been craving. What else did you have in mind?”
Jeff lowered his head to sprinkle soft, slow kisses along her neck. “I’ll bet you can guess.” He worked his way up to her ear and ran his tongue along its outer edge. Delicious shivers made goose bumps bloom all over her body. Turning her lips toward his, she eagerly accepted his full, lush kiss. His tongue moved slowly over the slick folds inside her mouth, making her moan softly. His warm hand crept up her ribs, and he brushed the backs of his fingers over her erect nipple where it pushed against the bodice of her blouse. Emboldened, her own hand sought the hard, full length of him straining against his fly buttons.
“I think we’ve sat out here long enough, don’t you?” he asked, taking tender little nips at her mouth. “Unless, of course, you’d like to try it in the swing.”
She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. It’s not really long enough.”
He chuckled too. “I guess you’re right.” He stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. Glancing at the sky, he said, “Look Allie, there’s your moon coming up over there.”
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