by Jodi Thomas
“Don’t tell me you ran into her again? Another crowded station? Another kiss?”
Wolf chewed on the words a minute before he answered. “Something like that. I married her.”
“What?”
“I married her!” If they had more time, Wolf would’ve been angry at Wes for acting like the three words couldn’t possibly be connected to him.
Wes shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. When we get John out and away, I don’t care if I have to sit on him for an hour, I’m hearing the rest of this story.”
“There ain’t no more ‘rest.’ I married her. That’s all there is, except she doesn’t know I’m the same fool who kissed her all those years ago.” They pulled up to the sheriff’s office.
A passer-by would never have guessed what the two tough men were talking about, Wolf thought.
“She’s gone mad since the war, right?” Wes asked as he stepped down from the saddle. “Lost all her teeth, and you felt sorry for her. A widow with a litter of kids to feed, and you were her only meal ticket.” He tied his horse. “Blind as a bat and just stumbled into you one night.”
Wolf fought the urge to slug his good friend. “No, she’s sane, got all her teeth, never been married, and more beautiful than I remember. As for her eyesight, I’m not sure about that.”
“Congratulations.” Wes slapped Wolf on the back. “Seriously. If she hasn’t figured it out yet, she will. Beneath all that hair and muscle is a fine man.”
“Thanks,” Wolf said as they walked toward the office. “Only one problem. When she finds out who I am, she’ll probably never speak to me again.”
“You’ve got to tell her,” Wes advised.
“I will.” Wolf promised. “I hoped to give her time to fall in love with me as I am first.”
Wes shook his head. “Time can go against you just as easily. Your best shot is to remind her of the good times.”
“That won’t take long. We only had about three minutes of good times.”
They entered the sheriff’s office laughing.
The deputy on duty nervously checked them out. Strangers dropping by after dark were usually not welcome. He almost shrank in the chair.
Wolf opened his coat to show his badge and the deputy relaxed a few degrees south of panic. “Evening,” he mumbled as he leaned back in his chair, obviously trying to show his authority and hide his fear. “What can I do for you fellas?”
Wolf sobered his tone to sound official. “I’d like to have a word with the prisoner named John Doe. I’m Captain Hayward from Austin. We’re after a killer who fits his description and is wanted for half a dozen murders near Austin.”
The deputy rose. “You can talk to him, but he won’t talk back. I don’t think he understands a word we say. We couldn’t even get a name out of him. But I’ve no doubt he’s bad. One look at those eyes and you can see that.” The deputy unlocked the door to the cells. “He’s just a kid, but it’s easy to see he was born to kill. A baby rattlesnake is just as deadly as a grown one.”
The ranger waited without commenting. The deputy might be surprised to learn that the boy was John Catlin, heir to one of the biggest ranges in Texas. It was run by an aging couple waiting for their only grandson to stop believing himself to be Comanche and take on his birthright. From what Wes and Allie had told him, Wolf knew John saw the ranch as another prison and not his home.
“He’s in there.” The deputy opened the first door and pointed to a line of cells, all with doors open except one. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”
Wolf moved down the hall with Wes a few feet behind. “Kid,” he said in a calm voice.
The boy didn’t look up.
Wolf knew the kid recognized him. Hell, he’d tried to fight his way past the lot of them on more than one occasion. “You might as well face me. I’ve come to get you. There’s folks waiting to see you, son.” Wolf fought the urge to add “as usual.” If the boy hadn’t been Allie’s only brother and Victoria Catlin’s only grandson he would have given up long before now.
Wes gave it a try. “John?”
No response.
“John!”
The boy raised his head, and Wolf locked his jaw at what he saw. John’s face looked purple and blue with marks the size of a fist beaten into several places. One eye was swollen completely closed, the other blood-red where white should have been. A wound at his hairline slowly dripped blood over dried scab.
Wolf moved against the bars for a better look. John’s clothes were filthy and ripped to rags. He had no boots or socks. Blood had soaked through in several spots, telling Wolf there were injuries he couldn’t see.
“Hasn’t this man seen a doctor?” Wolf yelled.
“Couldn’t find one to go in the cell with him,” the deputy hollered back. “We got two men out on sick call because of this one. Word was he took down eight men in the bar that night. He ain’t all that old, or big, but he’s plenty mean. Only doc we got worth anything is out of town. The army doc said he values his own life too much to get within striking distance of the kid. He ain’t fit to treat anything except horses anyway.”
As Wes moved closer to John, Wolf took a few steps backward until he could see the deputy in the other room. “What time does the train get in from Fort Worth? I heard there’s a doctor coming in.”
The deputy shifted as if bothered by all the effort he was wasting answering questions. “How would I know? Sometime tonight.”
“Fifteen minutes ago,” a voice said from the front door.
Wolf glanced past the deputy to a tall, well-dressed man framed in the doorway. His greatcoat blew in the wind almost like angel wings.
“I got here as fast as I could, Captain,” the man said as he lifted his doctor’s bag. He addressed the deputy. “I’m Dr. McLain from Fort Worth. I’d like to have a look at the boy.”
Wolf nodded at his old friend and brother-in-law. If the deputy had been brighter, he might have wondered how a Texas Ranger from Austin knew a doctor from Fort Worth was coming in. But the deputy probably never wasted effort on too much thinking.
And, Adam McLain looked to be exactly what he claimed. In truth, he was much like his brother Wes in height and coloring, only there was a kindness in his eyes that marked him as a healer. While Wes spent the war as a soldier, Adam had been a doctor. To Wolf’s way of thinking the most important person he’d treated was Nichole, Wolf’s sister and only blood kin. He’d saved her life one night near the end of the war and in turn she’d saved his.
Wolf fought down what he wanted to say to Adam. The deputy listened. “I’m glad you’re here, Doc. Looks like the boy could use your services.”
Adam smiled in greeting first to Wolf, then to Wes as he moved toward the cell. “Open the door,” he ordered after one glance. “I’ll need clean water, bandages if you have them, and a stack of clean towels.”
The deputy’s features melted from bothered to worried. “I don’t know. I ain’t supposed to open the cell. I’m just here as a guard. We don’t wet-nurse the prisoners. Clean towels would be across the street at the hotel, but I can’t leave.” He showed no interest in moving from the office.
“And if the prisoner dies on your watch?” Wolf grumbled as he passed the man and lifted the keys off a nail.
The deputy was outnumbered. The three powerful men shooed him around like he was no more than a gnat. He said something about needing help with all the paperwork if John Doe died, but no one answered him. Wes went after the towels and Wolf got the water while Adam laid out the tools of his trade.
The deputy stood in the corner as far from the cell as he could and still be able to see. He stared as they congregated once more. He made no effort to assist while Wes, Adam, and Wolf entered the cell together.
“Now, son,” Adam’s calm voice began, “there’s no use fighting us. We’re here to help you.”
Wolf didn’t miss the fire in John’s eyes as the wild kid looked from them to the knife Adam had placed on a table just
outside the cell.
If John’s sister, Allie, had been there, she might have been able to talk him into cooperating, but Wolf knew they didn’t have a chance.
Sure enough, as soon as they were within striking distance, the boy swung. His blows weren’t aimed at any one of them, but at the world in general. Wolf could see it in his eyes, he’d fight to the death. Only, not this time, Wolf thought. Not this time.
Wes and Wolf grabbed the boy and held him down as Adam covered his mouth with a cloth. John fought the chloroform for several breaths, then relaxed.
Standing by, Wes wiped sweat from his brow and whispered low enough the deputy wouldn’t hear. “You know, the kid’s getting stronger, and we’re getting older. How long do you figure we’ll be able to keep holding him down?”
“As long as it takes.” Wolf hauled in the bucket of water and noticed the frightened deputy had slipped from the room and locked the door leading to the office as if he believed the boy might overpower them all. “John will come around one day and thank us.”
Wes looked doubtful.
Adam wasted no time talking. He pulled off the kid’s clothes and began working on the worst wounds first. Wes said something about getting him fresh clothes from his saddlebags.
As he yelled for the deputy to let him out, Adam and Wolf grinned at one another. They both knew, in truth, Wes couldn’t hang around for the doctoring. He might be a hard man with a thin scar along his cheek to prove his battles, but something about the sight of blood, or Adam pulling a needle through flesh, made Wes McLain weak in the knees.
“Lucky you became the doctor and not your brother,” Wolf mumbled as he helped Adam.
Adam laughed. “Allie’s expecting their first this fall. I’m going to need help. Not with Allie, but with Wes.”
Wolf nodded. “I’ll be there. How long does this chloroform work?”
Adam shook his head. “Keep the cloth handy. If John starts to move, put it over his nose and add a few more drops to the cotton. I’m going to be awhile. After I get these cuts sewn up, I need to wrap the ribs. The kid may not tell us anything, but judging from these wounds, he’s been in a world of hurt for a few days.”
Wolf glanced down at the man who was little more than a boy. He looked so young as he slept, so helpless. He’d been living in hell since the army had found him and brought him in. His skin was tanned dark; he almost looked Comanche. But one soldier had seen his blue eyes when the army raided a camp and knew he was one of the missing children they’d searched years for.
John fought them all the way, but the army got him to Fort Griffin, where Wolf had claimed him. Sometimes Wolf wasn’t sure he’d done the kid a favor.
By the time they had him bandaged and dressed, John was beginning to move. A few of the bandages were already spotted with blood and the floor was covered with crimson-stained towels.
Adam placed the cloth over the prisoner’s nose. “I’ve an idea, but we’ll be taking a chance with his life,” he whispered to Wolf.
“If we don’t get him out of here, the boy won’t have a life.”
Adam nodded and let another drop of chloroform fall onto the cloth. “It doesn’t look good,” he said in a loud voice. “The kid’s lost a lot of blood.”
The deputy opened the door and ventured in a few feet. “I thought you could help him. I thought you were a real doctor.” He backed a step away in disgust. “Hell, look at the mess. Blood everywhere. You could have slaughtered a calf and left less.”
Adam frowned, but to the criticism he answered, “Even a real doctor can only do so much. There’s a head wound that must have been slowly spilling blood into his brain since the fight. His breathing is so shallow I can barely detect it.”
Wolf joined in the charade. “I don’t think he’s breathing at all, Doc. Do something. I’ve got folks waiting to hang him in Austin.”
The deputy backed away. His eyes rounded with a fear of getting too close to death. “Maybe I should get the sheriff.”
He backed into Wes, who stood like a stone in the doorway.
Wolf tried to catch Wes’s attention, to let him know it was a game. But Wes’s attention was focused on the body of his wife’s little brother.
Adam leaned close to John. After a moment, he shook his head. “It’s too late, he’s dead.”
Wolf faced the deputy as Adam placed a towel over John’s face. “He should have seen a doctor earlier. What kind of jail are you running here?”
The deputy panicked. “It weren’t my fault. I’m only the night watch. I don’t have no say.”
Adam seemed to take pity on the deputy. “Get the papers. I’ll write what happened in medical terms.” He turned back to Wolf. “Leave the body. It won’t stink much by morning. When a man dies in jail, they pay for the funeral.” He looked straight at Wes. “There’s no kin around.”
Finally, Wes understood. Blood returned to his face. His gaze left the body. He glanced from Adam to Wolf. Adam’s slight nod let him know a game was being played.
The deputy scrubbed his face. “I don’t want to be here guarding a body. The sheriff’s going to be mad.”
“He’ll probably make you cover the cost of the funeral. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have a live killer and not a dead John Doe.” Wolf shook his head.
“But you said you knew who he was. You said you were going to take him back with you.”
“I’m not identifying any corpse. Then I’d have to pay for the burying. He’s all yours.”
Panic spread like a fever across the deputy’s face.
Wes mumbled from the doorway in a tone that hinted that he was only mildly interested in the situation. “Too bad the death didn’t happen a few minutes later, when he had already checked him out of Waco and was on the road to Austin. Then it would be his problem and not yours.”
The deputy gulped hard. “It might’ve happened that way. I could say this ranger came in asking to take the boy and I didn’t know no better than to hand him over. It ain’t right to hang him here if he’s wanted for more murders.”
Wolf shook his head. “I don’t want my name connected to killing a man in transport.”
Adam closed his bag. “Well, do I put a name on the death certificate or not? I’m just a doctor who treated a prisoner.”
The deputy pointed at Wolf. “You know his name. You gotta tell us. You can take the body back to Austin and prove it.”
Wolf shook his head. “I ain’t taking him. It’ll tarnish my reputation.”
Wes seemed to come to the deputy’s aid. He said to Wolf, “How about if our friend here writes the dead man’s name down, but forgets what your name was? As long as everyone knows you were a ranger, no one will question anything and the doc will be happy because he can complete the certificate.”
The deputy nodded as fast as he could. “Right. You take the body and leave me the name.”
Wolf rubbed his beard and caught the signal to hurry from Adam. “Oh, all right. I guess the law in Austin will want to see the body.”
The deputy ran to get a pencil as Wes and Adam carefully lifted John. They carried him through the office while Wolf blocked the deputy’s view.
“Tie him behind my saddle. I’ll ride out tonight.” Wolf yelled at them.
“His name?” The deputy was in as much hurry to be rid of the body as Wolf was to take it.
Wolf moved toward the door. “Charlie,” he said. “Charlie Filmore is the killer’s name.”
Adam raised an eyebrow when he returned to sign the certificate, but didn’t comment.
Before the deputy finished filling out the whole report, Wolf, the McLains, and John Catlin were deep into the shadows of the night.
THIRTEEN
WOLF STAYED WITH THE MCLAIN BROTHERS until John Catlin was safely loaded into a berth on a train headed north. The kid had come to, but didn’t look grateful to his guardian angels.
Wes shook Wolf’s hand as they moved off the train. “I’ll keep him tied until we’re home. With no re
cord of his name in Waco I don’t expect anyone will come looking for him.”
“And when he runs away next time?” Wolf glanced back at Adam changing one of the kid’s bandages.
Wes shook his head. “Allie will have to talk to him in Comanche, since I’m not sure how much English he understands. Once we get back he stays without ropes. I can’t keep him tied up and I can’t keep chasing him.”
Feeling sorry for his friend, Wolf nodded in understanding. “I’ll come if you need me.”
Wes slapped him on the back. “Thanks, and as we McLains always say, keep an angel on your shoulder, friend.”
Wolf laughed and added the old refrain usually used by the brothers. “And your fists drawn.”
“Until your brother is there to cover your back,” Wes finished as the train whistle blew. He winked. “I’ll keep your wedding a secret, but not for long. We’ll all want to meet her.”
“Soon,” Wolf promised as he climbed on his horse and watched the train begin to move. “Soon.”
He rode southwest, following the stage trails home. His thoughts were full of Molly. The kiss they’d shared lingered in his mind, thick and rich like fine Kentucky bourbon. He decided that as soon as he saw her he’d tell her who he was. Maybe she’d laugh about it. Maybe she’d be madder than hell. But, by the end of the evening, she’d be in his arms. Wes was right, he needed to be honest with her as soon as possible. Time might not be on his side.
He never considered himself much of a talker. He’d fought his way out of most of his problems all his life. But when he got back to Molly, he had to say the right words to make her know the truth.
Wolf practiced their conversation so many times, the words began to mix. Finally, he gave up. She’d taken pity on a poor fool twice now. Maybe his best bet was that she’d take pity on him again.
The sun burned across the horizon in farewell as he galloped onto Congress Avenue and into town. At the far end of the street, the capitol glistened like a castle in the evening light. Folks moved in a “going home” hurry. Dust from rolling wagons rose from the street like a grayish-brown fog. A breeze would have swept it away, but the air was stagnant and hot.
