Loving an Outlaw

by Kristen Iten

“I didn’t realize that there were two Mr. Wagoners. I really must speak to your father. A man’s life is on the line.” Abigail’s voice cracked. She looked away before her eyes betrayed the emotions welling up within her. “A good man’s life is on the line. When will your father be home?”

  “Old Mr. Wagoner won’t be coming home. God rest his soul,” said Miss Townsend.

  “I’m afraid she’s right. My father passed away two years ago,” said Carson, “but I’ll surely help you in any way that I can.”

  The color drained from Abigail’s face. All of her hopes had been pinned on bringing Mr. Wagoner back to Sweet Creek. He had to drop the charges against Jake. She placed her hand on her stomach, staggering backward.

  “Here now, Miss, have a seat there.” Carson took hold of her arms and led her to a nearby chair. “Miss Townsend, let’s have a glass of water for this young lady.” He patted her shoulder gently. “Why don’t you tell me all about it when you’ve recovered from your shock, and we’ll see what we can do. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so affected by the news of my father’s death. He was not a particularly loved man in these parts.”

  Abigail sipped from a tall glass of cool water and breathed deeply. When she had regained her composure, she told the story of the night Jake had stolen a horse from the Wagoner ranch.

  Carson ran his hand over clean-shaven cheeks showing only a hint of a five o’clock shadow. “That certainly sounds like something my father would do,” he said.

  “The worst part of this whole situation is that Jake was arrested yesterday morning. The sheriff came across one of the old wanted posters your father sent out. A circuit court judge is due in town any day. He could be there already for all I know.” Abigail couldn’t sit still any longer. She walked to the window and sighed before continuing in a low voice. “You know what they do to horse thieves around here.”

  “Yes, I know what they do to them. I don’t think Jake actually qualifies as a horse thief, though, considering the fact that he had the animal brought back to the ranch,” said Carson. “He’s not a horse thief in the classic sense of the term at least.”

  Abigail turned to look directly into Carson’s chestnut eyes. “Do you think a judge is likely to believe the story of a man in Jake’s position? He doesn’t deserve to die.” Abigail stood in front of the younger Mr. Wagoner. “You have to come to Sweet Creek with me. You can speak for your father.”

  “I’ll do it. Lord knows my father was a hard man, and I’d like to do right by Mr. Morgan.”

  Titus had been listening intently from his seat in the corner.

  “This can only be good for you, Carson,” he said. “Think of how it will look in the papers. ‘Senate Hopeful, Carson Wagoner, Saves the Life of Lone Cowboy’. I love it.”

  “You’ll have to forgive Titus, Miss Dodd. He’s helping me run my campaign,” said Carson.

  “Correction,” said Titus, “I’m helping him win his campaign.” He pushed his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. “You are looking at one of the next senators of Texas, my dear.”

  “I must confess,” said Carson with a sly grin, “the thought of a little extra positive press had crossed my mind.”

  Abigail couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After everything she had told them about the plight of an innocent man, they sat there scheming about how they could profit by Jake’s misfortune. “It won’t be positive if we don’t get back to town in time,” said Abigail. “We need to leave.”

  “Now?” asked Carson.

  “You’re not running out on the supper I slaved away all day to prepare,” Miss Townsend protested.

  “Don’t work yourself into a fret, Miss Townsend,” said Carson. “We’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  “But the judge—”

  “I know, Miss Dodd, but I have spent the last three weeks traipsing all over creation. Campaigning for public office is not for the weak, let me tell you. I cannot ride through the night to yet another town,” said Carson.

  Abigail searched her mind for a solution, desperate to convince him to leave with her that very night. “Let’s take your carriage. We can make a bed for you in the back. I can drive while you sleep.”

  Titus and Carson laughed at the suggestion.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, but I must have at least one night in my own bed.”

  Abigail’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She bit her bottom lip to still its quivering.

  “We’ll leave at first light tomorrow,” said Carson. “A team of wild horses couldn’t keep me from an opportunity like this.” He clapped his hands, rubbing them briskly together before following the scent of his meal to the kitchen.

  Abigail and Titus trailed along behind.

  “Never fear, Miss,” the diminutive man said. “Carson was quite the accomplished lawyer before he set aside his practice to run for office. Between his connections and his charisma, your gentleman friend is as good as a free man.”

  Assuming he’s still alive by the time we get to Sweet Creek.

  Chapter 22

  Abigail rose long before first light the next morning. Sleep had eluded her for most of the night. Whether waking or sleeping, thoughts of Jake had never been far from her mind. Time seemed to stand still as she sat in the front room waiting for the rest of the house to stir.

  The sky began to lighten, and the contents of the room slowly emerged from the darkness. She had spent hours dusting this room the day before but hadn’t fully appreciated it until now. Masculine decor dominated the Wagoner home, but nowhere was it more pronounced than in this room. Everything seemed to be made of iron, wood, or leather.

  The most striking item in the room was the pair of horns hanging over the fireplace. No doubt they were from one of the impressive longhorns produced on the Wagoner ranch. From tip to tip, they measured longer than a man is tall.

  Abigail was surrounded by everything she had dreamed of for so many years, but she didn’t have the heart to enjoy any of it. Her brother was gone, and the man she loved was locked up or worse. She walked to the wide picture window and scanned the horizon, wondering what the future held.

  The last few weeks had been a whirlwind filled with more conflicting emotions than Abigail had experienced in her life. She hugged her body, trying to drive out the icy numbness that had come over her. She was exhausted both physically and emotionally.

  She starred at the grassy expanse before her and searched her heart. She needed to sort out the feelings that were raging inside, but that was a task that was easier said than done.

  Abigail heard every beat of her heart in the stillness. The beats came in rapid succession, her breaths short and panting. Despite her best efforts at self-reflection, all she could think about was getting on the trail. Everything depends on it.

  “Glad to see you out of bed this morning.”

  Abigail jumped at the harsh sound of Miss Townsend’s voice.

  “I imagine you’ll be long gone while I’m left to clean up after all of you. Come along. The least you can do is help get the vittles started.”

  Abigail dutifully followed the silver-haired woman to the kitchen.

  With breakfast out of the way, Carson loaded his luggage onto the carriage while Abigail secured Jake’s horse to the back. She was surprised to see the number of travel bags he had stowed.

  “Are you planning to stay in Sweet Creek for a while?” she said.

  “I always open the door when opportunity knocks.”

  Abigail gave him a quizzical look.

  “Sweet Creek is about to become a hot bed of new voters. This trip is an opportunity to pull ahead of my opponent.” Carson flashed his best politician smile before helping Abigail into her seat.

  “New voters?”

  “The railroad always brings in lots of new people. Some will just pass through. Others will put down roots. Either way, a lot of votes are on the line. I guarantee you won’t recognize Sweet Creek this time next year. It’s about to become a
regular boomtown.”

  “I didn’t know the railroad was coming to town,” said Abigail.

  “Not many people do. I suspect agents from the railroad will be talking to landowners about purchasing rights of way any time now. That’s going to mean a good sum of money for folks who own the right pieces of property.”

  Abigail retreated into her own thoughts. Everything started to make sense now. Bile rose in the back of her throat when she remembered the snake bitten man’s confession. Jonathan lost his life because of an underhanded land grab. A chill ran through her body despite the heat of the morning sun shining down on her.

  Carson climbed into his seat and took the reins in his hands. The horses had only taken a few steps when the front door flung wide open and Titus came running. His waist coat was unbuttoned, and his wire framed spectacles sat crooked across his face.

  “You’re not leaving without me,” he said. The brief sprint from the front door to the carriage left the short-legged man winded. Sweat already glistened on his face, making his spectacles slide further down his nose. He clutched a leather satchel to his chest as he struggled to climb into his seat.

  “I figured you’d want a few days off,” said Carson. “We’ve been keeping a breakneck pace, you and I.”

  “I’ll rest when I’m an old man. There is no such thing as a day off during a campaign for public office. We have a race to win.”

  The trio got underway once Titus was settled in place. A few minutes later Abigail saw the symbol of the Circle W ranch that she had passed beneath two evenings before. A sense of urgency filled her heart as thoughts of Jake flooded her mind once again.

  A small band of men on horseback approached the carriage as they neared the main gate of the ranch.

  “Leaving again so soon, Mr. Wagoner?” called the lead rider.

  “Just for a few days. I have some legal matters to attend to in Sweet Creek,” said Carson. “I missed you at breakfast, Cole.”

  “We were roundin’ up strays on the north range yesterday and made camp out there,” said Cole.

  “Miss Dodd, this is my foreman Cole Barton. He’s the best thing that has happened to this ranch in a long time,” said Carson.

  “We met yesterday morning.” Cole tipped his hat and winked in Abigail’s direction. “I’m actually glad we met you on the trail, boss. I was coming in to talk to you.”

  “Can you make it quick? We’re pressed for time this morning,” said Carson.

  “We saw signs of rustlers when we were searching for the strays.” Cole’s usual light expression had turned deadly serious. “It looks like those three good-for-nothings you fired have put together a little gang. I think they’re trying to steal themselves one last payday at your expense.”

  “What makes you think it’s Lyle and his fool brothers?” asked Carson.

  “We found two empty bottles of Lyle’s favorite rot-gut laying around their old camp,” said Cole.

  “I’ll wire the marshal when I get to Sweet Creek,” said Carson.

  “I can handle Lyle and those twin sidewinders he calls brothers, but it’s a different story now that they’ve got a whole gang riding with them. I’d be grateful for any help you can send my way, boss. They may be world class idiots, but that don’t mean their bullets ain’t going to sting.”

  “I’ll make sure help is on the way. In the meantime, feel free to hire as many new men you think necessary to protect the herd and yourselves,” Carson said.

  “Will do, boss.” Cole tapped the brim of his hat and flashed a toothy grin at Abigail. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Dodd.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Carson said with a laugh, “but I imagine her name will be Mrs. Morgan by that time.”

  Abigail’s cheeks flushed. “I never said anything about marriage.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  With a single flick of the reins, the carriage was rolling again.

  Heavy footfalls sounded in the sheriff’s office. Jake listened as the wood planks on the floor creaked under the sheriff’s weight as he paced the room. He stepped through the door and walked up to Jake’s small cell. Dark circles were visible beneath bloodshot eyes. He smoothed down his disheveled hair with the palm of his hand before speaking.

  “Judge Humphrey arrived in town late last night.”

  Jake sat silently and nodded his head. Needles ran down the length of his spine. Memories of the last few years played in his head—the last three years to be exact. After all of the hardship and loneliness he had endured, it was all going to end like this.

  For a moment, he wondered if it would have been better to have been caught all those years ago. He had fought so hard to prolong his misery. Then Abigail entered his thoughts. A sigh escaped his lips. I’d do it all over again, if only to meet her at the end of the trail.

  Micah saw the faraway look in Jake’s eyes and cleared his throat. “We’re the last stop on his circuit, and he’s in a hurry to finish up and be on his way. I’ll do everything I can to hold off your trial until the end of the day, but if Miss Abigail doesn’t hurry up and get here …”

  Jake straightened his body and walked to the bars separating him from the lawman. “Sheriff Lagrange, whatever happens today, I want you to know that I appreciate you.” He stuck his hand through the cell door to shake Micah’s.

  “You’re a good man, Jake,” said the sheriff.

  They shared a solid handshake, but Jake held on when Micah tried to pull away. “If things don’t go my way today, promise me that you’ll look after Abigail.”

  Micah stepped toward the bars and met Jake’s gaze. “You can take that to the bank, son.” He reached between the bars with his other hand and slapped Jake on the shoulder.

  In that moment, Jake knew that Abigail would be safe no matter what. He resigned himself to whatever the future had in store for him. His only regret was that he might never see the woman he loved again.

  Chapter 23

  A round, old man with a shining head sat at the lone table in the middle of the saloon. The hair that once decorated his scalp went to seed long ago and had since sprouted in his ears and nose. His fine suit of clothes fit him perfectly fifteen pounds ago but now only served to exacerbate an already disagreeable disposition. Court was in session.

  The relentless afternoon sun beat down on the building, yet it was packed with spectators. Everyone in town had come to see the trial of the great James Penlapp. Unused tables lined the back wall. Chairs were arranged in neat rows facing the stone-faced judge. For each person who had been fortunate enough to claim a seat, there were four more standing somewhere in the cramped room.

  Pastor David Holtz sat in a chair facing the spectators. Though he was the pastor of the church in town, he had never spoken before such a large crowd. All eyes were on him. He laughed to himself when he saw the faces of grown men pressed against windows trying to catch a glimpse of the goings on inside.

  “Reverend Holtz, if the question was too difficult for you, I can rephrase it,” came Judge Humphrey’s gravelly voice.

  “No need, Your Honor,” said David. “The answer is yes. Eli Garrett said that James Penlapp hired him to clear the Dodd land. He was to get rid of Jonathan Dodd by any means necessary. That order extended to his sister, Abigail, when she came to town.”

  “Did he give any indication as to why the sudden change of heart that led him to confess?” asked the judge.

  David’s shoulders slumped, and he slowly shook his head. “He didn’t have a change of heart at all. He said the Dodd homestead was the last piece of property Penlapp needed to acquire in order to have exclusive bargaining rights when the railroad comes to town.”

  The crowd erupted with angry cries. Judge Humphrey’s gavel quieted the roar to a dull murmur that continued to rumble throughout the room.

  “Mr. Garrett had been promised a share of the profit when Penlapp sold the right of way to the railroad,” David continued. “When Eli realized that he wasn’t going to be
able to collect on the deal, he said he wasn’t about to let Penlapp cash in either.”

  Over the course of the next two hours, citizen after citizen came forward demanding to be heard. The stories were all the same. Penlapp had spent the last year grabbing up properties from miles around. Whether it had been by intimidation or manipulation, his shady dealings were on display for all to see.

  “Gentlemen of the jury,” said the judge, “considering the body of testimony we have heard here today, I believe you have one clear choice. However, in the interests of justice, I am going to have the room cleared so you can deliberate.” Judge Humphrey’s gavel sounded once again. “This court is in recess.”

  Thirty minutes later, the saloon was filled beyond capacity once again to hear the verdict. Not a soul in the room was surprised to hear the foreman of the jury declare the prisoner guilty. Judge Humphrey handed down the stiff sentence to a stoic James Penlapp who was led away in chains to await the next chapter of his life.

  Abigail stood with her arms crossed and teeth clenched. The muscles in her jaw worked furiously while she watched Carson squat at the riverbank. How long does it take to fill a canteen?

  “Sweet Creek is just beyond that last rise, Carson,” said Abigail. Annoyance tinged the soft timber of her voice. “We shouldn’t be wasting all this time when there is plenty to quench your thirst such a short ride away. Jake could be on trial at this very moment.”

  “We can only hope,” said Carson.

  Abigail chewed on the inside of her cheek with more than a hint of disapproval in her eyes. Despite all of his charm, she had seen a decidedly unattractive, self-serving streak in Carson over the course of their conversations that day. It was a character flaw that might serve him well in his chosen profession, but was an utterly detestable trait to encounter in the course of daily life. Heat rose into her cheeks.

  “What do you mean by that?” she said.

  Carson stood and screwed the cap of his canteen back into place. “I could walk into a sleepy little jailhouse and ask the sheriff to unlock the door while no one is watching, but what good would that do?”