by Danni Roan
“I’m sorry,” Ty said, laying a hand on her arm.
Shifting in the chair, the woman handed her boy to the Marshal. “We need to eat,” she said, standing and turning to the stove without another word.
Ty looked down at the little boy who blinked crystal blue eyes back at him. Rising, he placed the boy on his knee and stared around helplessly.
“Ty,” Frank’s reedy voice came from the other room, “I didn’t kill that fella.”
“I believe you, Frank,” Ty said wearily as a tiny hand tangled in his beard.
***
Ty passed a fitful night. He’d put Jillian and Aaron in the lower bunk, tying Frank to the other while he took up residence in a hard chair.
Jillian rose twice in the night to tend the boy, but otherwise it was uneventful.
“We’ve got a long walk ahead of us,” he said in the wee hours of the morning. “You ready?” Something soft and warm tugged at his heart as Jillian moved into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast.
“I’ll be ready,” she said, twisting a tiny chain at her throat.
“Let’s get movin’ then,” Frank grumbled, “I’m sick ta’ death of the company already.”
Tywyn untied his brother and dragged him to his feet.
“You could always just let me go,” Frank sneered. “Then you could ride down to that little town with the woman. Everyone’ll still think you’re a big hero.”
Ty pushed the other man out the door, ignoring his words.
“Hello, Chip,” Jillian offered as she stepped out of the shack and stroked the horse’s nose, turning Aaron toward him so he could nuzzle the boy.
Ty offered the young woman a hand into the saddle, angling his hip away before Chip’s teeth met flesh.
A soft laugh rolled from above him as Jillian settled in the saddle and he looked up into roiling eyes, as Chip turned toward the trail to town.
“Why can’t I ride a while?” Frank grumbled, turning to follow the lawman, who held the rope attached to his bound hands.
Ty pushed his hat tight on his head, closing his ears.
As the day wore on, Ty called for a halt. Everyone needed a rest, especially the two men afoot. Boots were not made for walking over rough ground, but what had to be done, had to be done.
“You doin’ alright?” he asked, reaching up to take the baby from Jillian’s arms.
“Your horse is a smooth ride,” the young woman replied simply, accepting his help down. “It’s as if he knows Aaron is small.”
Ty raised a skeptical brow, watching as the horse laid its ears back at Frank. “He’s a strange critter, alright,” the lawman commented, turning his pockets away from the halfhearted nip the pinto offered.
Behind him Frank flopped down with a huff. “I swear you’re tryin’ to kill me,” he grumbled.
Instead of replying, Tywyn tossed the canteen to his wayward brother.
“I’m sorry we’re moving so slow,” Ty spoke again, settling the boy on his hip and walking the young mother to the shade of a tree. “This little man sure is good about everything,” he added, smiling at the tyke tucked in the crook of his arm.
“He learned that fussin’ doesn’t get you anything a long time ago,” Jillian offered, turning weary eyes up to his. “With no one to help, some days he just had to wait to be tended or we both would have starved.”
A sorrow like none he’d ever felt before settled deep inside the lanky lawman and he studied the boy’s face once more. “Looks like you did good,” he said softly, wishing his words could do more.
Jillian settled onto the cool grass and reached for her son. “I’d better feed him,” she said, not looking at Ty again as he discretely walked away.
“Turn me loose, Ty,” Frank’s voice was an irritating rasp as Ty approached. He’d tied the rope to Chip’s saddle hours ago and had no fear of the outlaw escaping with that ornery cayuse on watch.
“I can’t do that, Frank,” he replied, his voice flat.
“Sure you can. You can tell everyone I got away. I’ll disappear and you’ll never hear from me again,” the dark-eyed man smiled charmingly.
“Frank, you’ve done wrong and you’re going back to face up to it.”
“Why I only took a few dollars here and there. I never really did no real harm.”
“No harm?” Ty’s eyes flashed at his brother like lightning through a thunderhead. “What do you call shooting people, and taking their belongings then?” He felt the anger growing inside him and pushed it down.
“It wasn’t nothing they couldn’t do without,” Frank grumbled.
“Nothing they couldn’t do without?” Ty’s voice was a deadly purr and Frank flinched.
“What’d they put it in a bank fer if they needed it?” The dark outlaw’s voice was smug.
“They put it there so men like you wouldn’t cheat them out of what they’d worked for. So what they’d earned would be there when they needed it.”
“Like them town boys when we were kids,” Frank snapped, “always laughin’ at us because we didn’t have nothin’. They just took and took whatever they wanted while we went without. Maybe you never learned but I did. If you want something, you should take it before someone else does.”
Ty blinked at the man his brother had become, shock, sorrow, and disgust mingling in his eyes.
“Like now,” Frank continued. “You could cut me loose and take that woman.” He jerked his head toward where the woman sat nursing her son. “No one would ever know.”
The fist that connected with Frank’s jaw, laying him out cold, seemed to come out of nowhere.
A soft squeak from behind him had Ty hanging his head with shame for his outburst.
“You alright, lawman?” Jillian’s voice was a soft whisper on the wind.
“I’m sorry,” Ty spoke, still not looking at her. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Her words cut him to the core and he turned to see her buttoning her worn frock as she rested the baby across her knees.
“What good would that do?” he asked, striding to where she sat and collapsing, cross-legged, on the grass.
Her shrug spoke volumes.
“There’s nothing much to say,” Ty began. “My brother’s bad through and through.” He paused, looking at Frank’s prostrate form in the grass. “He always was, I guess, it just took me a long spell to know it.”
“As a boy all he could do was see what others had and he didn’t. He couldn’t see that the woman who raised us, who worked herself into an early grave to put food on the table, loved us and that we were rich compared to others.”
“Your mother has passed, then?” The woman’s voice was soothing somehow.
Ty shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
“My mother died before I was three,” Jillian said, her voice flat.
“My ma left,” Ty’s words were strained. “I found her in Biders Clump just a few days ago.”
Jillian looked down at the little life that now drowsed on her knees. “I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t leave.”
“She thought she was doing the best for us and looking back, I can see it. More than likely we all would have starved together. At least this way, Frank and I had a chance.”
A small hand fell on his arm and in that gesture, Ty could feel the strength of the woman next to him. “I’d say you’ve been given a second chance, then.”
“Maybe, we’ll see once I get Frank to town and turn him over to the law.”
A groan made both of them look to where Frank was picking himself up off the grass.
“We’d better get moving. We might make it before nightfall if we try.” He rose, offering his hand to Jillian, who took it and walked toward the painted pony, who nickered low, huffing a soft breath over the sleeping baby.
***
The small troupe arrived in Biders Clump as dusk was falling. Even Aaron was beginning to grumble and Chip had taken so many swipes at Frank with
a rear hoof, they were both limping.
"I'll be as quick as I can," Ty spoke, looking up to Jillian where she slouched in the saddle. "Once Frank's in his cell, we'll go over to the boarding house and you can have a rest."
The young woman smiled down at him, her eyes weary, as she rocked Aaron in her arms.
"I can't believe you'd turn your own brother in," Frank spat as Ty pulled the rope, tugging him up the stairs. "You must be getting' a powerful reward," the outlaw continued. "You're unnatural, that's what you are."
"Sheriff," Ty spoke, keeping a wary eye on his brother. “This here is Frank Selson, alias Frank Nelson and a few names in between."
"So you done it." Sheriff Pike stood, lifting a large ring of keys from his desk with a jingle.
"It's a lie, Sheriff," Frank piped up. “This man's my brother and he's just got a grudge is all. I ain't no outlaw."
Sheriff Pike's head snapped around, his dark eyes pinning Ty, who merely nodded.
"I've got a poster looks just like you," the Sheriff continued, opening a cell and pulling back the door. "We'll let a judge and jury decide what to believe."
Ty pulled Frank to the cell, pushed him inside, then untied his hands.
"I'll see you rot in hell for this, Tywyn," Frank snarled, then collapsed onto the hard cot.
"You got any papers for me to fill out?" Ty asked, his hard, gray eyes glinting like gun metal.
"You can do that tomorrow. You look plumb beat. Go get a good meal in ya and some rest. I'll call Ferd in for the first watch tonight. Rest easy."
Ty tipped his hat to the older man and stepped through the door. "Come on, Chip," he said, lifting the reins once more. Even Chip was too tired to offer more than a passing bid for his fingers.
"I'll take you inside and see you can get a room, then I'll take Chip to the livery." Ty said as he helped Jillian down from the saddle. She wobbled as her feet hit the ground and he snaked an arm around her waist, offering support.
Aaron rubbed at his ear with a pudgy hand and whimpered, his little nose red from the brisk breeze that preceded the night.
"Ms. Polly," Ty called, hoping the woman had something on the stove. "I need two rooms." He continued ushering Jillian and the baby before him down the hall to the warm, cozy kitchen.
"Mr. Spade, is that you?" Polly's voice was bright despite the unexpected arrival.
"Yes, ma'am," Ty said, taking off his hat, "this here is Jillian and Aaron. They'll need a place to stay and some grub."
"Jillian LeFort, Ma'am," Jillian offered, her voice raspy with fatigue.
"Good heavens," Polly squealed, "you look right tuckered. Sit, sit." She hustled them toward the table. "I'll have supper on in two shakes."
"I'll see to Chip and be right back," Ty said to Jillian. He felt responsible for her somehow and didn't want her to worry.
"I'll put some porridge on for the li'l bit and have some tea for you in a jiffy." Polly continued to bustle about the room.
"Thank you," Jillian spoke, her voice flat, "but what I really need is the privy." Her dark eyes fell on Polly, who stopped cold, then smiled.
"Give me that little fella," she said, "it's up the stairs to the right." She lifted her chin, looking above her as she took Aaron from his mother.
"Thank you," Jillian replied, turning and heading back the way she'd come.
"Aren't you the sweetest little thing," Polly said, stroking Aaron's downy head as he nestled into her warmth. "You look like you could sleep right there." She swayed gently, rocking the tyke before heading back to the stove to give a pot a stir.
"Polly where's my..." George stepped through the back door and froze. "A baby? Polly where'd you get a baby?"
"That Mr. Spade's back and he brought him."
"That curly wolf brought you a baby?" George's voice rose with surprise. "I wouldn't reckon he'd know what to do with a baby."
"He brought the mite’s mother as well," Polly groused. "Now set the table, she'll be down in a minute and what they both need is a good hot meal and a snug bed."
"Where in thunder did he find a baby?" George mumbled as he reached for the plates and cutlery. "Oh, hello." George stopped what he was doing as Jillian walked back into the kitchen.
"Hello," she replied tentatively.
"You must belong to that young fellar my wife's croonin' over," George said with a smile.
"I'll take him now," Jillian offered, reaching for her son.
Reluctantly, Polly handed the child over. "He's sure a sweet boy. You'll find linens and diapers in the cupboard at the top of the hall," she added. "I always keep some for when the grandchildren visit, or if guests need them."
"Ain't had much use for 'em lately though, have we?" George grumbled, plunking the heavy crockery jug of milk on the table. "Where'd you come from anyhow?" he said, his soft brown eyes turning to the young woman once more.
"I was at a cabin, up in the mountains. Mr. Spade and his brother stumbled on me by accident, I guess you could say." She settled herself at a chair as Polly scooped up a bowl of cornmeal mush for the baby.
"You go on and feed him while I get the biscuits in the oven," Polly said. "He looks worn to a nubbin."
"What'a you mean Mr. Spade and his brother?" George asked, eyeing Jillian.
"It's a long story, Mr. George." Tywyn entered, running a hand over his rough beard. "I promise to fill you in later, but tonight can we have some food and a good sleep?"
"Alright, but don't forget." George smiled, softening his words. "You can have your old room back by the way. Our last guest cleared out this morning."
"George why don't you take the young lady’s things up to the green room, there's a crib in that one."
Jillian's eyes met Ty's, an unspoken question shining in their dark depths. "Your bag's by the door," he said.
"I'll fetch it," George offered as he stomped away.
"You have a very nice place here," Jillian spoke as a heavy silence filled the room. "I didn't even know this town was here."
"Biders Clump?" Polly turned, her blue eyes full of wonder.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Oh, Biders Clump's been here for ages." Polly waved a hand as if brushing off the comment. "A fella stopped here on his way to Oregon. Way we all heard it was he got so overwhelmed when he saw them mountains, he told his wagon boss he'd just bide awhile in a little clump of trees." She shrugged as if that explained it all.
"And the town built up because of that one man?" Jillian's voice was full of wonder.
"That's the history we all know. Folks would come on along the trail and feel the need for a rest. Some of 'em stayed, while others carried on to Oregon or even California."
Jillian smiled at the tale, and Ty was struck by how young and pretty she seemed when she smiled. Too much care weighed her down.
He watched her, his steely eyes softening at her care in feeding Aaron the sweet creamy meal.
"Best take a seat," Polly said, wiping her hand on a towel she'd tucked into her apronstring. "You look as wore out as the rest of 'em. Besides, the grub’s ready." She smiled slightly, her blue eyes kind.
Ty dropped into the seat next to Jillian and little Aaron reached to him, his tiny fingers tangling in the lawman's dark vest. A strange warmth filled Tywyn and he felt himself smile.
"Something sure smells good," George commented, his eyes on the dark stranger. "Let's eat." He bowed his head, saying a quick prayer of thanks, then grinned as Polly placed biscuits on plates and topped them with a rich chicken gravy.
Both of the younger people were drooping in their chairs by the time the meal was finished, and the baby boy yawned so widely it scrunched up his whole face.
"Now to bed with you both," Polly said, standing. "Mr. Spade you know the way. These two will be just across the hall from you in that little room. Get moving now," her blue eyes flashed.
"Yes, ma'am," Ty responded automatically, rising and helping Jillian from her chair.
"You'll be right as rain in the mornin',"
George offered hopefully, but his eyes turned to Polly as the young ones left the room. "There's a powerful sorrow on them two," he said, lifting his plate and taking it to the sink.
Chapter 7
Jillian lay awake, staring up at the low ceiling of the room she shared with her son. Little Aaron was snuggled up in the soft folds of the pale wooden crib. He was well fed, warm and safe. So why did she feel so twisted inside?
The darkness of the night seemed to press in around her, weighing down on her as if some large animal had curled itself onto her chest and wouldn’t budge. The heavy compression was physically painful.
She turned, pushing the blankets off, but the weight still pressed down on her in the borrowed night dress she wore, and she pushed herself upright onto the edge of the bed.
What was she supposed to do? At least in the cabin she’d held out hope that Phineas would return, that something had simply delayed him, but now the suspicions she’d harbored for the past eight months pounced on her with certainty.
She was alone, again. Her eyes drifted to her sleeping son and her heart constricted, as if the coiled creature had clamped steel jaws around it.
A ragged sigh stole from her lips and she gripped the mattress with her hands. She could do this. She could raise that boy, she could look after him. Questions bombarded her like a military barrage and her head spun.
Forcing slow, even draughts of cool air into her lungs, she huffed them out again through her nose. She’d been on her own before. She would find a way. Surely there were jobs in this town.
A soft tread by her door set her heart to pounding.
“Ms. LeFort?” the lawman’s low voice drifted through the solid wood, “Are you alright, ma’am?”
Jillian closed her eyes, steeling herself for the days ahead as she grappled her anxiety, fear, doubt and grief into a tight ball and crammed it down, deep inside.
***
Ty ran a hand over his neck and listened at the door of the young woman he’d brought off the mountain. He was sure he’d heard her earlier, but her lack of response indicated she must wish to be left alone and he turned back to his room.
