by Davis, Mary
“The judge will look at your case tomorrow. Did I tell you the judge is my brother-in-law? I think you should have left town when you had the chance.”
Keep your mouth shut, and don’t make it worse for yourself, Pete.
“I didn’t see a need to leave.”
“And now?”
“I don’t think I’ll have a choice.”
The sheriff gave him a smug smile and walked away.
Pete climbed back onto the wiry cot and touched the pencil tip to paper just as the single bulb that hung bare in the corridor went out. The only light.
“Sweet dreams,” the sheriff called before latching the door at the end of the corridor.
Pete thumped his head back against the cement wall. The sheriff had waited to give him the paper on purpose so he couldn’t write anything. He threw the pencil across his cell and heard it hit the bars before falling to the floor. The letter to Lizzie would just have to wait until morning.
In the morning, Pete rose with the first faint signs of sunrise. There was a small window in the door at his end of the corridor. The door led out to a small, walled-in exercise yard, maybe six feet by fifteen feet. That didn’t matter. What was important was that he would soon have enough light to find the pencil and write a note to Lizzie.
As sunrise grew closer and light slowly illuminated his cell, Pete squinted to locate the pencil. He couldn’t find it anywhere. Maybe it had rolled back under the cot, but it wasn’t there, either. While he was on his hands and knees, he looked back the other way and spotted the pencil in the corridor outside his cell. Reaching through the bars, he strained to touch it but was still several inches from it.
“Fred, come here.”
Fred stretched and crawled off the cot and over to him.
He pointed through the bars. “Get the pencil, Fred.”
Fred squeezed through the bars and sat, staring at him.
Pete reached through. “Get the pencil.”
Fred went over and sniffed the pencil.
“That’s it. Pick it up and bring it to me.”
Fred came back over and licked his face.
“No, get the pencil. Please.”
Fred wagged his tail, barked, then went to the end of the corridor and whined to be let out.
Pete rolled onto his back on the floor. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for himself, he rose and called out, “Is anybody there?” He called out for several minutes to no avail. “It doesn’t look like anyone is coming. Come on back.”
Fred stayed where he was and looked from the door to Pete, back and forth, and whined.
“I’m sorry, boy. I can’t help you.” Pete sat back on the cot.
About ten minutes later, the door opened and Fred ran out.
“Hey, get back here,” the sheriff growled.
“He needs to go outside.”
“Take that rat outside and leave him there.”
“That’s my dog.”
The single bulb glowed to life. “I can’t waste my men waiting on a mutt.”
Pete bit his tongue. Fred would be fine on his own for the day. Maybe he could talk the night deputy into letting Fred back in with him.
As the sheriff walked over, Pete wanted to ask him to hand him the pencil but didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of turning him down.
The sheriff stepped up to the cell, then looked down and picked up the pencil. He smiled at the pencil before handing it to Pete. “I think you dropped something.”
Pete noted the broken lead. Should he bother to ask to have it sharpened? The sheriff looked from the pencil to him and waited. Pete sized him up and shoved the pencil into his pocket. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Just checking on my prisoner.” He left.
Pete pulled out the pencil and stared at the broken tip. What did he do now? He didn’t have his pocketknife to whittle it sharp again. What else could he use? He looked around his cell and smiled. His cell. He went over to the cement wall and began rubbing the end at an angle on the rough surface, careful to not hurt the forming lead tip. When he had enough to write with, he sat down with the paper.
Dear Lizzie,
Please don’t believe I’m guilty, because I’m not. I don’t know how that bootleg whiskey got in Jenny. I’m sure overnight, doubts have crept into your mind, but I am innocent. Please believe that. If you would only come to see me, you would know that I’m telling the truth. I think you could always tell my fact from fiction.
Please come. I can’t wait to see you.
I love you.
Love,
Pete
A little while later, a different deputy from the one the night before came in with a plate of food. “Scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee.” He set the plate on the ground and slid it under the bars through the slot.
“Deputy, I was wondering if my dog could come back in.” Pete was getting lonesome.
“Sheriff doesn’t want it inside.”
Pete held out the note he’d written. “Could you see that Lizzie Carter gets this?”
The deputy squinted at him a moment, then nodded. “You mean Elizabeth.” He took it and left.
Pete knew that the deputy would likely read it, but he just had to pretend he wouldn’t. It was more important that Lizzie read it whether or not everyone else had read it, too.
❧
When Lizzie pulled up in the Tin Lizzie to the post office to let Daddy out, she said, “Daddy, I know you need to be here, but would you come to the jail with me?”
Daddy patted her hand. “I think it’s best if you don’t go there.”
She suspected Daddy was only pretending to be mildly supportive. He didn’t care what happened to Pete as long as he was out of her life. “I have to see him.”
“And I have to get to work. I have a family to provide for.”
“But what if Sheriff Sherman won’t let me see him?”
“Then there will be nothing I can say to persuade him. Go home and forget about that boy. Thaddeus Tinker was in here the other day asking about you.”
Thaddeus Tinker was ten years older than she, balding, and looked like he was ready to give birth to a twenty-pound baby. “No, thank you. I’ll see you later.”
She drove up to the courthouse that had the jail in the basement and parked. Fred sat on the steps by the door, stood, and wagged his tail when he saw her. She picked him up. “Why are you out here?”
Fred licked her chin.
She walked inside. “Hello, Anthony. I’d like to see Lieutenant Pete Garfield.”
Deputy Anthony Elmer folded a piece of paper and tucked it inside a desk drawer, then stood and straightened his uniform. “Miss Carter, it’s so good to see you.”
Anthony had been two grades ahead of her in school and had always been sweet on her, but she wasn’t going to use that to get her way. “I brought fresh-baked muffins for Lieutenant Garfield.”
Anthony swaggered around the desk and looked down at her. “He’s already had breakfast.”
“I’ll bet he’s still hungry. Can I take them to him?”
“Sheriff said not to let you see the prisoner while he was out. You can leave them here.”
She wasn’t going to give up that easily. “Well, the sheriff isn’t here. It won’t hurt to see the lieutenant for just a minute.”
“I’m sorry. Sheriff’s orders.” Anthony was being stubborn.
“Can you at least give him his dog? Fred misses his master.” She held up one of Fred’s paws and waved it at Anthony.
Anthony smiled. “Sheriff doesn’t want the dog in here.”
What did the sheriff have against her? Or was it Pete he had issues with? But why? Pete hadn’t come into town much while he was here. He couldn’t have possibly caused any trouble. Did Sheriff Sherman just dislike all flyboys? “Would you tell Lieutenant Garfield I was here to see him when you give him the muffins?” At least Pete would know she’d come to visit.
On the way out of town, Lizzie stoppe
d in at Bill’s and told him and her grandpa what had happened. “Grandpa, would you go see Pete and tell him I believe he’s innocent?”
Grandpa patted her hand. “Of course, darling.”
“Bill, can Fred stay with you? They won’t let Fred in the building with Pete.”
“Sure. But he’s not going to want to stay when he knows where his master is.” Bill grabbed a rope. “I’ll have to tie him up.” He looped the rope around Fred’s neck and tied the other end to a post in the garage.
As Lizzie walked out to the Ford with Finn, Fred followed her as far as he could, then barked at her. When she turned back to look at him, he wagged his tail at her. “I’m sorry. You can’t come.”
Fred whined and barked some more. She ignored him, got in, and started the Model T, then took one last look at Fred, who had lay down with his head on his paws, looking forlorn. Poor Fred. She sighed, then drove away.
Grandpa Finn climbed out at the courthouse. “You stay here.” He came back a few minutes later, shaking his head. “They won’t let anyone see the boy.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Nothing you can do. When the people with the power shut you out, there’s not much you can do.”
Grandpa sounded like he was speaking from experience. But she couldn’t just do nothing. What could she do?
❧
After lunch, Pete wasn’t happy to see the sheriff again. He’d rather be lonely.
The sheriff studied him for a minute. “I sent a telegram to Spokane. The authorities said to hold you; that they would be sending someone. Looks like you’ve been in trouble before.” The sheriff turned on his heels and walked out.
Pete bet the sheriff loved giving him that bit of news and rubbed his face. Not Spokane. Maybe he could avoid certain trouble there. He shook his head. It was all connected. She would know.
Lizzie, where are you?
Lord, please don’t let her believe these lies.
He’d finally found a doll he cared about, and she was being torn from him. Believe in me, Lizzie, believe in me.
After a supper of cold stew and a hard biscuit, the sheriff paid him another visit. Sheriff Sherman sported a huge smile and set a chair outside his cell. If the sheriff was this happy, it couldn’t be good for Pete.
“You have a visitor. A lady.”
“Lizzie,” he whispered. Finally she’d come. He stepped up to the bars.
“Come on in, ma’am,” the sheriff called toward the door.
But instead of Lizzie, a pregnant Agatha rushed in with her three-year-old daughter. Agatha clutched the bars. “Pete, darling, are you all right? I’ve been so worried about you.”
Pete stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
“When I heard you were in jail, I had to come.” Agatha had her blond hair bobbed and wore an expensive, beaded pink dress.
Pete would rather look at the sheriff than this woman. “I don’t want to see this visitor.”
Agatha pushed her daughter forward. “Ruth, say hi to Daddy.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
The sheriff smiled and left, closing the door behind him.
“You know as well as I do that I’m not her father.” Because Agatha’s father was a powerful judge, she thought she could manipulate everyone. “And I’m not the father of the one you’re carrying either.”
“Everyone back home thinks you are.” Agatha sat in the chair and fluffed her pink dress.
“Because you told them so.”
“Tell Daddy you love him.” Agatha pushed Ruth forward.
“I love you, Daddy.” The little girl gazed up at him.
He glared at Agatha, then knelt down on the hard cement on his side of the bars. “Sweetheart, I’m not your daddy.”
Ruth smiled. “Okay.” She was a cute kid and deserved a better mother than Agatha. She’d probably grow up to be just like her mom.
He stood. “Why are you here, Agatha?”
“To bring you home. It’s time you owned up to your responsibilities and married Ruth’s mommy.”
He gritted his teeth. “She’s not my responsibility. And I’m not going anywhere with you.”
She smiled smugly. “The three officers who came with me say otherwise.”
“You can’t force me to marry you.”
Her features hardened. “I’m not having another child out of wedlock.”
He hardened his voice. “Then marry the real father.”
“You are the real father. We’ll be taking the first train in the morning.” Agatha took Ruth’s hand. “Tell Daddy bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye, Daddy.”
After they left, he raked his hands through his hair. Lizzie. What would she think? Lord, please don’t let Lizzie hear about this. Keep this from her.
He sharpened the pencil on the wall and sat down on the floor with the other sheet of paper.
My dearest Lizzie,
I wish I could see you before I leave, but I have to go to Spokane to take care of some business. I will come back for you.
He wanted to tell her all about Agatha, but on the slim chance no one told her, he didn’t want to worry her with this. He would explain everything to her when he could see her face-to-face. Besides, he couldn’t tell her in a letter and possibly make her understand. “I love you and only you,” he wrote, then signed the letter, “Love, Pete.”
❧
Lizzie parked around the corner of the courthouse. Maybe the night deputy would be more sympathetic. When she approached the steps, the sheriff opened the door and held it for a young woman and her small daughter. She ducked back around the side of the building. The sheriff would never let her see Pete. He spoke with the woman for a few minutes, helped her into a taxi, and went back inside. Half an hour passed before the sheriff left and she could slip inside.
“Danny, can I see Pete Garfield?”
“My orders are to not let anyone in to see him. Only the sheriff can take people back to see the prisoner.”
“Please don’t call him that.”
“What am I supposed to call him?”
“Pete. That’s his name. And what harm could it do to let me see him for just a minute? You can be right there.”
He wouldn’t budge.
❧
The following morning after dropping off Daddy at work, Lizzie headed straight over to the courthouse with fresh-baked apple bread. “Hi, Anthony.”
“Hello, Elizabeth. No, you can’t see the prisoner.”
She smiled coyly at him and sat on the edge of the desk. “Were those muffins I brought yesterday any good? Ivan said they were a bit dry.”
“They weren’t dry at all.”
As she thought, Pete hadn’t seen a one. “I brought you some apple spice bread.” She unwrapped the loaf and handed him a slice.
He bit into it. “Mmm.”
“Elizabeth Carter, fancy seeing you here.”
Lizzie spun around to the sheriff. Rats. She’d never talk Anthony into letting her in now. “Sheriff. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you if I could go downstairs.”
“Of course you can. I’ll take you myself.”
“Really?” This was a change.
“There’s no reason not to.” He escorted her through the doorway and down the stairs, then unlocked the door to the cell room.
“Thank you.” She stepped inside and looked at the row of four cells. All empty. She walked along the corridor to get a better look. “Where’s Lieutenant Garfield?”
“Gone back to Spokane with his wife and child.”
“What?”
“She’s a pretty little thing, and the little girl looks just like her daddy.”
“No, it can’t be.” Pete wasn’t married.
“I saw her with my own eyes. She came last night.”
Lizzie had probably seen her, too. That must be who the sheriff was letting out of the building last night. Oh no, please don’t let it be true. Was Pete lying to her the whole time? She ran past the sher
iff and up the stairs. She could hear the sheriff’s laughter chase her all the way up.
She drove to Johnson’s field. Pete’s aeroplane was gone.
Ten
Pete sat across from Agatha and Ruth on the train with two of the officers close at hand. He didn’t know which bothered him more: returning to Spokane with Agatha or that cocky police officer flying his Jenny. He would be glad to have it in Spokane, but why couldn’t he have flown it there? He’d offered to have one of the officers fly with him.
Agatha whispered in Ruth’s ear, and the child left her seat and climbed up onto his lap, wrapped her little arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Just like her mother, throwing around her love to the wrong man. Ruth deserved to know who her real father was even if he didn’t deserve her. He lifted the girl to the floor. “Go sit by your mommy.” He didn’t want this little one any more confused than she already was.
He was grateful for one thing: Agatha had flirted with the two officers until they agreed to unbind his wrists. She didn’t want her daughter to see her “daddy” shackled. He’d promised not to try to escape. He actually wanted to go back if it meant he could clear his name and have a chance with Lizzie.
It was strange how quickly his feelings for Lizzie had rooted deep and strong after being arrested and sitting in jail. He’d had time to think about life without Lizzie. He actually never thought about the future. He took life one day at a time. There was no past and no future. Just right now. Then he met Lizzie, who cared more about his Jenny than about him. His put-on charm didn’t work on her. She was different and exciting. She charged something deep inside him with her enthusiasm for flying. She’d taken hold of his heart from that first time she sat in his pilot seat. Bold, beautiful Lizzie. Now he could see the future, and it was nothing, empty, without Lizzie.
He gazed at Ruth and imagined she was his own little girl sitting next to her mommy but her mommy was Lizzie. He smiled at that picture. He’d only known Lizzie for a little more than two weeks, but for some strange reason, he was sure about her being the right doll for him. He wondered if she felt the same. She’d said she loved him, but how deep did it go? Would her love for him weather this storm?
