Gunsmoke and Gingham

by Kirsten Osbourne

  And to think he’d believed, not so long ago, he wanted Arrah for his wife.

  He leaned close so no one would overhear. “She left me for Bayliss.”

  Lizzy’s eyes rounded. She mouthed, wife?

  He shook his head, watched relief steal across Lizzy’s beautiful face, and took a king-sized risk. He linked his pinkie finger with hers, half-expecting her to pull away.

  “Long time ago,” he whispered.

  Sheriff Talmadge chuckled. “Glad to hear it. You know how talk is.”

  Harold smiled the smug grin of a man everybody wanted to be.

  Ha.

  “So you won’t mind telling me exactly what your problem is with the Hudsons. And the Speares.”

  Harold glanced from Dad, to Morgan, to the sheriff. “Who are the Speares?”

  Both Lizzy and her mother raised their hands as if children in a schoolroom.

  Bayliss dismissed them with the slightest of glances. “I don’t know the Speares, so they are of no consequence. The Hudsons,” Bayliss said, ripe with disdain, “are fools. No law against disliking fools, is there, Sheriff?”

  Morgan’s hackles rose, but he remained silent. Dad shifted, but didn’t speak.

  Even Mrs. Speare had the good sense to hold her tongue.

  The sheriff chuckled. “Can’t say there is.”

  Anybody who didn’t know the lawman would think he rather liked the wealthy man. But a gunsmith couldn’t help but have lots to do with lawmen. If the Hudsons weren’t supplying weapons, identifying pieces, providing expert testimony, or working together to solve a crime, the sheriff dropped by to purchase cartridges or warn them about somebody coming through town.

  Bayliss wouldn’t know that. Morgan doubted Bayliss knew much of anything.

  “If Mrs. Bayliss and I are not needed further,” Bayliss said, in a cat-got-the-cream manner anybody normal would detest, “we’ll say goodnight.”

  The crowd at the door parted but Morgan didn’t bother to watch them exit.

  Something wasn’t quite right with Arrah and the way she stood a distance from her husband, or the furtive glances she cast him…but that wasn’t Morgan’s problem. Unless they were behind the day’s trouble.

  Talmadge didn’t seem to think so. The lawman drew a deep breath, turned back to the rest of the crowd gathered. He took in Ray Cresswell, still sitting on the cot. Interesting that Ray hadn’t acknowledged his first cousin—on the other side—and she hadn’t acknowledged him.

  Morgan used the excuse to tug Lizzy near by her pinkie finger. “Ray Cresswell is first cousins with Bayliss’s wife, Arrah Cresswell Bayliss. Other side of the family.”

  “You were engaged to your cousin’s cousin?”

  He shrugged. At least Lizzy’s anger at him had been set aside. For now.

  And she still let him hold onto her. By the pinkie.

  “I’ve spoken at length with Miss Dimond,” Talmadge announced, “four times this week, so let’s just say I know all about the bad blood between the Hudson family and her.”

  Ina sniffed.

  Morgan rested a soothing hand on her shoulder.

  “Ina?” The sheriff approached the cell, met her eye and showed her surprising kindness. “Did you cause trouble for the Hudsons?”

  “No! Of course not. I might’ve told a few people what they did, how that high-and-mighty Mrs. Speare fired me for no good reason, but I wouldn’t hurt the Hudsons.”

  “Did you do something to hurt Mrs. Speare?”

  “No!”

  “Her daughter?”

  “No.”

  “I believe you.” Talmadge reached through the bars to squeeze Ina’s hand.

  After a moment, he pulled away—and the supposedly locked cell squeaked open.

  Somebody chuckled.

  Ray glanced up, finally.

  If anybody in this circus looked guilty… “Ray?” Morgan released Lizzy and approached the bars separating them. “Want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  Ray shook his head, his attention firmly back on his knotted hands.

  “You and I have been friends since we sat on our mamas’ laps in long dresses. I treated you too well the day you came into the shop and bothered my lady. So talk.”

  Everyone waited in silence.

  Seconds passed. Ray finally looked up. “I swear, Morgan, I didn’t do anything. I felt terrible about treating Miss Speare with disrespect. So, I apologized. That’s all.”

  Morgan stared at his cousin, saw nothing but truth in the other man’s eyes.

  “And you waited ‘til I wasn’t at her side, because…?”

  “Because I finally saw her in the crowd. You saw the crush of people.”

  Everybody, even Mrs. Speare, kept quiet.

  Either he’d missed something…or everybody inside the jailhouse walls was innocent.

  That meant—

  “Morgan?” Dad asked, quick on the uptake as ever. He cleared his throat, looked to Zylphia as though she were everything to him.

  Talmadge tugged his ear, their predetermined cue. “I don’t like this.” Spoken low, so nobody outside overheard.

  As though nothing had changed, Morgan sauntered to the cot and sat, all the better to slip his Colt, fully loaded, from beneath the tick between his knees.

  Panic pounced on Morgan’s back as he gripped the Colt.

  A well-lit jail, windows open wide on a hot July night. Fish in a barrel.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His pulse pounded.

  Talmadge killed the light.

  Again, Morgan pushed Lizzy behind him. Smart girl—she moved quietly, easily.

  At his back, she clutched his shirt and pressed her face between his shoulder blades. Morgan’s heart nearly shattered. He must protect the innocent, the weak, the woman he loved.

  “What’s happening?” Zylphia demanded. “Geo?”

  Clueless woman! Her voice came from further down the wall—where Dad had moved them, out of the line of fire. Others shuffled. Clothing brushed the brick floor.

  Fish in a—

  One rifle shot. The slug whispered between iron bars and struck the brick-and-plaster wall.

  —barrel.

  Chapter 14

  Sheriff Talmadge sat on the edge of a chair in his parlor. He scanned the four faces—Mr. Hudson, Mother, Morgan, and herself. Elizabeth held his gaze, though the intensity of this lawman would make anyone flinch.

  “You’ve had half an hour.” The lawman was deadly serious. “I want to know exactly what trouble you Hudsons have brought to this town. Speak freely. Get it all out in the open.”

  By Hudsons, he included Speares. Elizabeth looked to her mother, her fear mounting.

  At first, no ideas came. Not for any of them.

  “See anybody else you recognize among the visitors?”

  Mother shook her head. Elizabeth tried to recall, but everyone here was a stranger. She’d paid so little attention.

  Mr. Hudson’s side hurt. He favored it as he sat on the sofa. “We have hundreds of migrant miners and migrant field laborers in the valley. I saw hundreds of unfamiliar faces. Could have been any one of them.”

  “Good. Keep thinking.” The sheriff rubbed a thumb over his jaw.

  “Murphy’s had a theft this week. He mentioned it—” Morgan shook his head, discarding the thought.

  Talmadge split a glance between Mr. Hudson and Morgan. “Turn anybody away? Refuse to sell them a pistol? Ammunition?”

  “Only Ina.”

  “Hmm. Any paying customer dissatisfied?”

  Morgan snorted, as if such a thing never happened.

  The sheriff made a rolling motion with his hand. “Keep the discussion going. Nothing is too unreasonable.”

  Seconds slipped past. “Miss Speare,” the sheriff turned to Elizabeth. “You came to Colorado with your mother. Did you spurn a swain in St. Louis? A man who’d follow you here, angry that you left?”

  An easy question to answer. “No.”

>   “Take your time. Think about it.”

  “I don’t need to, sir. There was no one.”

  Talmadge blinked. “No one?” He checked with her mother, then Morgan.

  Just how specifically need she answer the same question? “I’ve never had a suitor.”

  Mother shifted on the sofa. Impatient or uncomfortable, or perhaps both. “She had no suitors, gentlemen. None.”

  Three men turned to Elizabeth, expecting verification.

  “Miss Speare, we know how young people are.” Talmadge opened his palms, gesturing as if secrets from her mother were nothing to be ashamed of. “Not all courtships occur under a mother’s watchful eye.”

  “I would know!” Mother interrupted, her tone adamant. “Several would-be beaus came to the door, sniffing around Elizabeth’s skirts like dogs.”

  Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her throat. To hear Mother speak this way—

  “I sent every last one of them away.” Mother grew more animated, more agitated. “I sent them away because none were suitable.”

  Too fast to recognize it, embarrassment changed to horror…with recognition of all Mother admitted with her flippant statement.

  She couldn’t breathe—her chest locked up and wouldn’t work…

  Morgan must’ve comprehended Mother’s confession for he reached for her hand and simply held it.

  As if she were listening to someone else’s story, someone else’s unbelievable tale, Mother continued. “Elizabeth is a good girl. She understands her duty.”

  Mother spoke with pride, with utter certainty in Elizabeth’s obedience.

  The sheriff must’ve seen worse perfidy in his work, because he showed no emotion. “Her duty?”

  “Elizabeth Louise’s responsibility is to me, her mother. She, as my only daughter, is honor-bound to remain at home. To care for me in my old age.”

  Mother had sent away anyone who’d ever come to their home, anyone who’d ever called on her.

  She’d had gentleman callers?

  When? Who?

  Had anyone, ever, been as selfish as her mother?

  Elizabeth’s ears rang. Her head spun and she feared she’d swoon.

  Mother fell quiet, the lawman’s question answered.

  How could her mother—the woman who was supposed to love her—have done this?

  Elizabeth focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

  Morgan and his father communicated, without words. Minor expressions. Easy for them—they knew one another so well.

  “Mrs. Speare,” Morgan said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You can be of help to us. Your keen memory will serve us well.”

  “I’ll certainly try.” Mother smiled, her vanity responding so well to Morgan’s change in subject.

  “Did anyone in St. Louis refuse to obey your edict regarding your daughter? Did they refuse to stay away?”

  “No, of course not. They knew their place.” She smiled at Morgan’s father, pleasure mingling with her relaxed expression. She honestly saw nothing wrong with her behavior—with robbing Elizabeth of freedom, her life, the chance to make a choice for herself.

  All this time, for years and years, she’d thought herself uninteresting, unattractive—

  “Was anyone in St. Louis jealous of you?” the sheriff added. “Or your daughter?”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes, fighting tears, fighting to remain calm. She’d think about all of this, all it meant, once the fright was over.

  “Oh, yes. Plenty of other women were jealous of us. We had a lovely home, the finest of furnishings.”

  Mother seemed to have forgotten her determination to present herself to Mr. Hudson as a domestic woman, one who loved the simple, and wished to do the housekeeping herself.

  “Newest gowns, the most fashionable of invitations—”

  Visions of gray dresses, her wardrobe filled with gray in every fabric and every shade—

  Elizabeth hadn’t wanted dresses. Nor invitations.

  She’d wanted to fit in…she’d wanted to be loved. But she’d worn dresses that kept people at a distance, made herself invisible.

  Talmadge nodded. “Did your husband, Mrs. Speare, have enemies?”

  “Enemies?” The wistful tone disappeared. Mother sat straighter. “Why would Dr. Speare have had enemies?”

  The lawman shrugged. “We’re turning over every rock, ma’am. I don’t know where to look until you help me find it.”

  “He was loved by all. A wonderful dentist.”

  Talmadge nodded. “I’m sure he was. Would anyone have wanted to see him hurt? Maybe lose his ability to practice dentistry?”

  Mother gaped. “No, of course not. He was shot in the street, but that was an accident. A horrible, terrible accident.”

  Silence gaped for the space of three or four seconds.

  Talmadge leaned forward a little more. “Are you sure about that?”

  Mother shrieked. In fury, in pain, in the stunned reaction of a widow who just learned her beloved husband would not be coming home.

  After all Mr. Hudson had seen, Elizabeth found it no surprise that he showed Mother patience, kindness, and the compassion she so desperately needed. He held her to his shoulder, though he couldn’t hide the wince when his stitches pulled.

  Nor was Elizabeth surprised when Morgan, the man she’d come to love, followed his father’s example. The two men were so much alike. In every way that Mr. Hudson showed love, affection, patience, and commitment for Mother, his son showed those very same traits…for her.

  Morgan called her Lizzy Lou. A nickname. A nickname that embodied the love she’d been waiting for, her entire life.

  She was in love. Hopelessly and forever, with Morgan Hudson.

  In that moment of stark realization, she knew, without a doubt, that she would be alone—and deserve to be alone—not because of Mother’s selfishness, but because she had prevented herself from embracing this one chance at everlasting love, this only chance that mattered.

  Before Morgan, no one ever captured her attention, no one made her yearn for love and affection. Only Morgan.

  But she had built a wall, so thick and so high, even his exquisite patience couldn’t find a way around it. She’d built that wall with stones—one with every friend’s marriage, with every reminder issued by Mother that she was duty-bound to remain at home, with every passing year and every birthday. That wall protected her heart, allowed her to pretend she didn’t care that she grew older without hope for love of her own.

  She grasped Morgan’s hand more tightly and took in his profile.

  This man, this one man, was worth the leap into the unknown.

  For him, she would choose love over fear.

  For him, she would dismantle the walls that kept him out. She’d trust and hope and dream.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She blinked, and turned to the sheriff, Mr. Talmadge. He’d called her name.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  He smiled with kindness, though no doubt aggravated with her wandering mind.

  Morgan stroked her hand with his thumb, though he could have no way of knowing the power of the epiphany, the realizations that had forever changed the course of her future.

  Mr. Hudson nodded, as if accepting whatever the sheriff had just said. “It’s a crazy speculation, but nothing else makes sense.”

  Morgan must’ve seen her confusion, and in his kindness, leaned near to repeat. “Whoever shot and killed your father must have followed Wardie Ferwinckle to Mountain Home.”

  “Oh.” A shocking, terrible theory.

  “Makes sense, if, whoever that man is, couldn’t learn where you and your mother had gone.”

  “And, theoretically,” Morgan’s Dad added, “something changed. He might believe you left St. Louis because you feared for your lives.”

  Oh, no. She and her mother might have, absurd though it seemed, brought calamity to Mountain Home.

  “If we’re right,” the sheriff continued, “and E
lijah Speare’s death wasn’t an accident…and the man who shot him took aim at you today, Mrs. Speare, that means…”

  “I’m in danger. Oh, heaven help me. I’m in danger!”

  Mother really could be the most selfish person.

  “You’re safe with us, dearest.” Mr. Hudson held her close, ignoring the pain of his wound, concerned only for her safety and her contentment.

  How, why, had Mother, despite herself, found a man who loved her so completely?

  She must, with her new understanding, apply the same question to herself. How, why, had she, a plain, simple woman who’d shut everyone out for years and years, by the grace of God, found a man who loved her so completely?

  She watched Morgan’s dear face, drinking in the blink of his eyes, the stubble on his chin, the softness in his expression when he turned to her.

  “Zylphia,” Mr. Hudson whispered, “no harm will come to you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know nothing of the sort! I was nearly shot in the back today. A man aimed a pistol and shot at me!”

  “She’s not the only one the assassin could be here to eliminate.” Morgan’s second hand closed around Elizabeth’s. Soothing. Strength. An anchor in the storm.

  The sheriff glanced at George Hudson, then at her, then to Morgan.

  Morgan cleared his throat. “Mr. Ferwinckle. Where is he?”

  Oh, no. Papa. Mother, and she. Now Mr. Ferwinckle. For reasons she couldn’t comprehend, they were all in danger.

  The sheriff grew still. “He went back to the hotel.”

  Morgan stood, bent to kiss Elizabeth quick and sure. Just as quickly, his attention turned to the sheriff. “We’d best get to him. Fast.”

  Elizabeth stood—she’d go with. She’d help. She couldn’t remain here—

  Sheriff Talmadge whipped open the front door of his home and whistled, shrill and brief. A signal, apparently, because a man with a tin star pinned to his vest bolted up the porch steps and inside.

  Quicker than two shakes, Sheriff Talmadge informed the deputy to guard his family and the two women.

  Despite the fact that Morgan didn’t look back as he joined the sheriff and his father, on foot, heading to the hotel—wherever that was—she loved him more than ever.