Texas Heart

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  The little boy handed her the reins of her horse.

  "Yeah. That couldn't be Pa in jail."

  As her brothers pulled themselves into the saddle, Jessie met Cole's dark somber gaze.

  She looked away quickly, hating what she saw.

  Pity.

  And what was worse, knowledge.

  The knowledge that the man in jail could be her pa.

  And if so, because of some terrible misunderstanding, he would die in the morning.

  They fought their way down Texas street, clogged with farm wagons, mule trains and horses until they came to the marshal's office.

  Tying the horses, Jessie caught her brothers' hands and took a deep breath before leading them inside.

  A man looked up from behind a desk.

  His shirt was stained with sweat.

  The buttons of the shirt were straining under his enormous bulk.

  Tufts of gray hair were plastered tohis head.

  The butt of a cigar was clamped between yellowed teeth.

  "Something wrong, miss?"

  "No, sir. Imean, yes, sir. Are you the marshal?"

  "Marshal Torn Smith is over at the Merchants Hotel having supper.

  What can I do for you? I'm Deputy Grundy."

  The man didn't make a move to stand, and Jessie realized that it would probably be too much effort.

  She glanced around and moved closer to the desk.

  "My brothers and I are here to see the man calling himself Jack Conway."

  "You can see him in the morning," the man said, suddenly frowning.

  "Swinging at the end of a rope."

  "You don't understand," Jessie said, beginning to talk faster as she always did when she was nervous.

  "Our pa is named Jack Conway, and we know he's no cattle thief. So that means that the man in your jail has stolen our pa's name. We want to find out why, and where our pa is."

  The deputy glanced from Jessie to the man who stood behind her.

  "You with the lady?"

  Cole nodded.

  "Then I'll tell all of you. No one gets to see the prisoner. He was found guilty by a federal judge in a court of law, and tomorrow morning he'll hang for his crimes. And until then my orders are to see that no one gets near him."

  "But our pa's been gone for months now. This man might know where he is."

  "I have my orders from Marshal Smith."

  He glanced at the girl, appreciating the way her slim hips were molded in the britches, and dragged his gaze to the boys who stood on either side of her.

  "For all I know, you might be bringing him a gun so he can kill himself rather than face hanging."

  "We'll be happy to hand over our weapons to you," Cole said quietly.

  The deputy stared pointedly at the Colt Army .

  44 resting at Cole's hip.

  "Even without their guns they aren't going to see him, mister. No one is going to see that prisoner until tomorrow when he--" Cole cut him off sharply.

  "Jessie, you and your brothers wait here.

  I'll go find Marshal Smith.

  "The marshal won't like having his supper disturbed," the deputy said with a sly grin.

  "And believe me, when the marshal is unhappy, someone usually lands in a jail cell."

  "Don't go, Cole. Don't rile him."

  Jessie thought about all the times Cole had watched over his shoulder.

  Like a man on the run from the law.

  "We'll just wait until he comes back."

  "Marshal isn't coming back until morning," the deputy said.

  "I have to see this man who's stolen my pa's name."

  "You'll see him."

  Without another word Cole turned and stormed away.

  Jessie herded her brothers from the room, unable to bear the way the deputy was looking at them.

  Outside she led them to a wooden bench and sat down between them, drawing them close to her for comfort.

  "Cole will get the marshal to let us in," Danny said with more confidence than he felt.

  Jessie felt her heart sinking.

  What would they do if Cole landed in jail, too?

  "Sure he will," Thad echoed.

  "And when we talk to him, he'll tell us where Pa is. Maybe he's hiding until this hanging is over."

  "Why would Pa hide?"

  Jessie hoped the boys wouldn't notice the slight tremble in her voice.

  "'Cause he's innocent and somebody stole his name."

  Jessie's mind was whirling with so many fears, so many thoughts, she could no longer sort them out.

  They sat in the shadows, watching as cowboys staggered from saloons and disappeared into the night.

  They listened as gunshots echoed in the street.

  They heard the tinny sounds of a piano and the rough language of the trail burns and the laughter of the women who entertained in the upstairs rooms of the almost-hotels.

  And as the night wrapped itself around them, they huddled together and waited.

  Waited for Cole to work a miracle and get them permission to see the imposter.

  Waited for dawn, when a man would hang for stealing cattle.

  The marshal was young--not quite thirty--with slicked-back dark hair beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

  His neatly trimmed mustache enhanced strong, even features and a slightly cruel mouth.

  He had a walk that was more a swagger and there was an ak of superiority about him.

  He had, after all, been hired by Mayor Henry to clean up Abilene.

  And that was what he intended to do.

  He was paid one hundred twenty-five dollars a month and two dollars for every arrest.

  The signs in every public place demanding that firearms be deposited with the proprietor had been his first Step in the campaign to clean up this violent town.

  The public hanging of a cattle thief would be the second.

  When the cowboys who ran roughshod over the good citizens of this town saw that he meant business, they would obey his laws without question Or cool their heels in jail until they learned to live by the rules.

  At two dollars a head he just might become a very nc man.

  He would never have given up his supper for any ordinar citizen's request.

  But the man striding along the dusty street beside him was no ordinary man.

  en without the six-shoot( at his hip, Cole Matthews would have been a man of impre sive authority.

  As the two men approached the jail house, Jessie and her brothers scrambled from the wooden bench and stepped from the shadows.

  "So. This is the young lady who would like to meet the prisoner."

  The marshal tried not to stare at the beautiful yount woman in men's clothes.

  As she moved further into the ugh that streamed from the window of the jail house, his eye: widened.

  She wasn't just beautiful.

  She was stunning.

  Not a all what he'd expected.

  "I'm Marshal Torn Smith, ma'am."

  He touched the brir of his hat.

  "Mr. Matthews has made me aware of your concer about the prisoner' s identity.

  If you'll follow me, I'm certa! we can clear this up in a matter of minutes.

  As he led the way, Jessie dropped a protective arm aboul her brothers.

  They followed him into the jail house.

  At the first sight of the marshal, the deputy was on his feet.

  Hi.

  , mouth gaped in surprise.

  "Marshal Smith. Didn't expect you back tonight."

  "The young lady and her brokers want a look at the prisoner."' Taking up a lantern, he opened an inside door and led the way to the cells.

  Jessie and the others deposited their guns on his desk and followed.

  A tall rangy cowboy jumped up from a bunk and gripped the bars of his cell.

  "About time, Marshal. I've been expecting my boys to get me out of this manure pile."

  Seeing Jessie, he added, "Excuse me, miss. Didn't mean to
talk like that in front of a lady."

  I eras l-lean "Sit down, Purdy," the marshal shouted.

  "I told you wouldn't be leaving with your drovers in the morning, meant it."

  "My boys will tear this place down before they'll leave behind."

  The cowboy's hands twisted at the bars until his knuckles were white from the effort.

  "I'm the trail boss. out me no one gets paid for this drive."

  "You should have thought about that before you shot Morgan's Saloon.

  In my town, mister, I don't abide drunken behavior from no-good Texas cowboys."

  As Jessie followed the marshal toward the next cell, she felt the touch of the cowboy's hand on her hair.

  Wide-eyed, she turned, only to find sad dark eyes burning into hers.

  "I have a wife at home in Texas who looks a lot like you," he muttered.

  "She'll be worried sick when I don't return with boys."

  "I'm sorry."

  With nothing more she could say or do, Jessie hurried past.

  The marshal stopped at the second cell and held up the lantern.

  Jessie saw a tall broad-shouldered figure turn from the high narrow window where he'd been staring into the night.

  "Got a visitor, Conway. This young lady and her brothers think you stole their father's name."

  Jessie stepped closer while her brothers crowded around beside her.

  The man's face was in shadow.

  He crossed the narrow cell.

  As the marshal lifted the lantern even higher, illuminating the handsome Irish face covered by a bristly beard, Jessie let out a cry.

  "Oh, dear God in heaven. Pa! It's you. Pa."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Jessie. Oh, honey." The man stared at her as if seeing a vision. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move." How'd you get here, girl?

  "I--" she tried to swallow the lump that was stuck in her throat.

  "--just kept looking until I found you."

  "All the way from home? All alone?"

  "I had some company."

  She moved aside to reveal Thad, who was clinging to her pocket, and Danny, who was partially hidden behind her.

  "We've been searching for you for so long."

  Jack Conway's eyes widened.

  "Danny. And Thad."

  Tears glistened on his lashes and he didn't bother to wipe them.

  In a voice choked with emotion, he whispered, "My babies. My babies came clear to Abilene to find me. And you find me here in this stinking jail on the last day of my life."

  "No."

  Danny grabbed at the bars and his fingers tangled with his father's.

  "You're not going to die. We're not going to let them hang you, Pa."

  The man's voice grew tender.

  "Look how tall you grew, son. Why, I think we can practically look each other right in the eye."

  "You listen to me, Pa. They're not going to hang you."

  Danny's tone sounded sterner than anyone had ever heard.

  "We won't let them. We'll explain that this is some terrible mistake."

  "There's no mistake," Marshal Smith said calmly.

  "There's already been a trial. A witness identified Jack Con-way as the cattle thief. And a federal judge has ordered him to be hanged."

  "Who was this witness?"

  Jessie demanded.

  "A very respected man in this town. Mr. Y. A. Pierce, who is one of the biggest trailing contractors in Abilene."

  "A trailing contractor?"

  Cole's eyes narrowed fractionally.

  "Mr. Pierce runs cattle for small ranchers who can't afford to pay men for the months it might take to drive a small herd to Abilene for shipment."

  "Isn't he the man who talked you into joining his cattle drive, Pa?"

  Jack Conway nodded at his daughter's question.

  "For a fee," the marshal explained, "he puts together drives that total several thousand head. He supplies the drovers, the chuck wagon, cook and food, and here in Abilene, the pens and storage until the cattle can be sold and shipped."

  Marshal Smith spoke in tones that left no doubt that he greatly admired Y.

  A.

  Pierce.

  "Some day Mr. Pierce will be a giant in the cattle industry."

  "Mr. Y. A. Pierce is a damned liar," Jack Conway growled.

  "The words of a convicted cattle rustier hold no weight with me."

  The marshal made a move to shepherd them from the room.

  "Marshal Smith," Cole said in a dangerously low voice, "I suggest we leave this family alone for a private visit. They've come a long way to find their father."

  "A dangerous criminal can't be..."

  The marshal's words · died in his throat when he saw the icy look in Cole's eyes.

  He cleared his throat.

  "I suppose a few minutes can't hurt."

  He set the lantern on the floor and led the way back to the front office.

  With a last glance at Jessie and her family, Cole followed.

  As soon as they were alone, Jessie, Danny and Thad reached through the bars to touch their father.

  With tears streaming down his face, he gripped their hands, stroked their faces and drank in the sight of them as only a condemned man could do.

  "What happened, Pa?"

  Jessie's voice was barely more than a whisper.

  "Pierce is the biggest thief I've ever met."

  Jack Conway's voice was filled with contempt.

  "But the marshal was right about one thing.

  Someday Mr. Pierce will be a giant in the cattle industry.

  He persuades poor dumb ranchers like me to entrust their cattle to him, then he robs them blind and gives them less than half what their cattle earned.

  And expects us to thank him.

  "You mean he's stealing from everybody?"

  Conway nodded his head.

  "Pierce controls the market here. If the buyers don't offer him top price for the beef, he stores them until the price is driven higher.

  He charges the poor ranchers not only for the drovers, but for the price of feeding the cattle until they bring the higher price. And he keeps the high price and pays back the lower one.

  If he bothers to pay at all.

  "You mean some ranchers don't get paid?"

  "If there's enough profit to be made, he'll see that the rancher meets with an 'accident' rather than share the wealth."

  She felt a chill along her spine.

  "Why did he accuse you of rustling?"

  Jack Conway lowered his voice and motioned for his children to draw closer.

  "I found out about the money box."

  "What money box?"

  Jessie drew an arm about her little brother and felt him clutching at her for support.

  "Mr. Y. A. Pierce had thousands of dollars in a strongbox. When I happened across him counting it, he lied and said it was going to be used for wages the drovers had earned. But when we reached Abilene, he told us he had no money to pay us. He told us we could go home and wait for him to pay us later, or stay in Abilene until he got enough money from the sale of the herd."

  "You mean he expected the ranchers to go home without their pay?"

  "He knew we couldn't afford to. But we couldn't afford to stay, either.

  We didn't even have the price of a room or a meal.

  ' “What happened to the money box, Pa?"

  "I stole it."

  "What?"

  Jessie sucked in her breath.

  "Why?"

  "Because it was the only way to prove that he was lying.

  He was never going to reveal that money, and I knew it.

  " " Where is it now, Pa?

  He lowered his head and whispered, "Where Pierce can't find it.

  That's why he framed me for cattle rustling."

  "How did he frame you, Pa?"

  "He arranged to have some of the cattle moved, then accused me of stealing them. The rest of the drovers k
new how many head we'd brought in, and they counted nearly two hundred head of cattle missing. They never would have guessed that he stole his own cattle."

  "Didn't you tell the judge the truth? Didn't you tell him about the strongbox?"

  "The federal judge was only interested in stopping the large-scale stealing that's been going on for the past two years. Like most folks, he thinks that a man like Y. A. Pierce is too rich to need to steal.

  And as for Marshal Smith.

  " He gave a snort of disgust." The marshal knows that this hanging will make him a legend in the West.

  Jessie saw his lips tremble for a moment before he went on.

  "I guess I did only one thing right in this world. I raised some pretty fine children, didn't I? And if I have to hang for a crime :.: I didn't commit, then I figure the three of you are going to get rich from the crime I did commit."

  "No, Pa. We aren't taking that money chest," Jessie said, anticipating what her father had in mind.

  "With no pa and ma, you're going to need all the help you can get."

  "The Bible says 'Thou shalt not steal,' Pa," Jessie hissed.

  "And nothing good will ever come from it."

  With a thoughtful look Jack Conway tousled Thad's hair, so like Jessie's, so like his dead wife's, and felt a hard lump settle in his throat.

  In a whisper he said, "My baby rode over six hundred miles. I guess that means you aren't a baby anymore."

  He lifted a hand to Danny's shoulder and felt the solid muscles beneath his hand.

  "A man.

  You've become a man while I was away.

  " With a bittersweet smile touching his lips, he reached a callused finger to Jessie's cheek.

  "Soft. So soft. When did you become as pretty as your ma?"

  Guilt over what he had done warred with the need to secure his children's future.

  When he spoke, Jack Conway's voice held a note of resignation.

  "I want you kids to leave tonight. I don't want you anywhere near here tomorrow when they hang me. They're going to make a celebration out of my hanging, and I want to die knowing my kids were spared."

  "We're not going," Jessie said with a sudden vehemence.

  "Don't you get ornery with me, girl."

  Jack Conway's voice took on the old familiar tone of authority.

  "You may be tough enough to watch your old man swing from a tree, but you're not putting your little brothers through a thing like that."

  "You don't understand," Jessie said quietly.

  "I have no intention of watching them hang you."