“We got him!”
“What do you mean we?” Matt muttered.
“I mean you and me,” Jesse said.
Matt frowned. Jesse had almost gotten himself killed, but now didn’t seem like the time or place to scold him. Even in the dim light, he could see the boy was hurting. His arm hung at a strange angle, like it was broken, and his face was as white as new-fallen snow.
“Anvil, you better take him to town and have the doctor look at that arm. Might not be a bad idea for you to be checked out by the doc as well.”
Anvil nodded. “Come on, boy.”
Jesse grabbed his arm and groaned. “Rangers don’t leave their partners during a takedown,” he said, his voice weak. “It’s a rule.”
“Yeah, well, here’s another rule,” Matt said. “If you want to be a Ranger, you’re gonna have to make staying alive a priority. Consider it rule number one.”
* * *
Ellie-May hunkered down in the dark, the shotgun in her hands pointed at the closed door. Outside, the shooting had stopped, but the stretch of silence was even more frightening than the gunshots had been, and her brain conjured up all sorts of scary images.
Was Matt all right? What if he was wounded? What if he was lying on the ground, bleeding? What if he were…? Even knowing how he’d used her, she didn’t want to see him hurt.
A dozen unsettling thoughts raced through her head. Clamping down on the worst of them, she tried to think what to do. It was still hours until daylight, and by then, it could be too late to save him. On the other hand, Roberts could be waiting to pounce the moment she opened the door, and she couldn’t take the chance with her children’s safety at stake.
She strained her ears, hoping to hear something—anything—that would tell her Matt was uninjured, but the harrowing silence continued. The gunfire hadn’t awakened Alicia or Lionel, and for that, she was grateful. It seemed that no matter how much she’d tried protecting them, danger kept landing on her doorstep.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into what seemed like hours.
At long last, she heard something. Footsteps on her porch. Clutching the shotgun, she felt her mouth run dry and her knees threaten to buckle. Nerves taut, she held her finger on the trigger, ready to fire.
The knock made her jump, and she almost dropped her weapon. “Ellie-May. It’s me, Matt!”
With a cry of relief, she lowered the shotgun. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the door and released the lock. The moon was now behind the house, and the porch was in total darkness. Still, she could see that Matt wasn’t alone.
“Can we come in?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” Stepping aside, she stood her shotgun against the wall and turned to reach for the box of matches on the table. She lit the gas lamp with shaking hands and blew out the match.
Turning, she gasped upon seeing Roberts. His hands cuffed, he was bleeding at the mouth.
“He and Anvil got into a tussle,” Matt explained.
“Is Anvil…?”
“He’s okay. So is Jesse.”
She blinked. “Jesse’s here, too?”
A resigned expression flitted across Matt’s face. “Oh yeah, he’s here, and he’s lucky to be alive. He hurt his arm and Anvil’s taking him to see the doc.” Matt turned to his prisoner and pushed him into a chair. “Our friend here has an interesting story to tell.” Matt leaned over him. “Mrs. Blackwell is gonna want to hear it. Suppose you start at the beginning.”
Roberts looked up at Matt with hate-filled eyes and clamped his lips tight.
Matt leaned closer. “You heard me. Start talking!”
“I ain’t sayin’ no more.”
Matt drew back, “Wrong answer.” He pulled out his gun and held it to the man’s temple. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll start by telling the lady how you and her husband met.”
Roberts glared at Ellie-May, and his face brought back terrible memories. Recalling how he’d frightened Lionel, something snapped inside her, and she flew at Roberts with pommeling fists.
Roberts yelped when her fists landed on his already wounded jaw. “All right, all right,” he yelled. Eyes rounded, he looked more scared of her than Matt’s gun. “We met on the road outside town.”
Ellie-May backed away, hands clutched to her chest. Not sure whether she wanted to hear more, she held her breath and froze.
Matt pressed Roberts to continued. “How did you meet?”
“I’d been shot, and Blackwell found me.”
Matt locked Ellie-May in his gaze a moment before asking the next question. “Was that before or after you’d robbed the stage?”
“After.”
The air left Ellie-May’s lungs. “After?” she whispered.
Matt nodded. “Your husband had nothing to do with the robbery.” He nudged Roberts again. “Go on. Tell her the rest.”
Roberts continued in a low, rambling voice. “I took a bullet in my leg and was bleeding bad. My horse had bolted, and I had no way of getting back to town. Your husband found me on the side of the road. I told him I was on the stage when it was robbed and was shot by the highwayman. Blackwell bandaged me up and was gonna take me to the doctor, but I begged him not to. I said I couldn’t afford to pay no doctor. So he drove me here to his farm to doctor me up himself.”
“He brought you here?” Ellie-May asked, shocked.
Roberts nodded. “Yeah, but when your husband pulled up to the farm, he spotted the bag of money I’d snuck into the back of his wagon, and that’s when the truth dawned on him.”
Ellie-May gasped. “That means that Neal never—”
Oh God. How could she have ever thought otherwise? Tears of relief stung her eyes. Guilt filled her chest. She should have trusted in Neal. Believed in him. Why hadn’t she?
“Then what happened?” Matt asked.
“When he threatened to turn me in, I lied about having a sick wife at home, and we made a deal.”
Matt backed away and holstered his gun. “What kind of deal?”
“I begged Blackwell to give me time to do the right thing and go to the sheriff myself.”
“And he agreed?”
“He didn’t want to, but I told him I needed to talk to my wife and square things with her first. He insisted that the money stay with him. Said I had twenty-four hours to do the right thing before he turned the money over to the sheriff hisself.”
“So you left the money with Blackwell,” Matt said.
Roberts’s face darkened. “What else could I do? My leg hurt like the dickens. I’d lost a lot of blood. I knew if I tried anything, he could overtake me. I had no choice but to agree to his terms. He then drove me to town to the doctor’s office and told the doc that I had accidentally shot myself while cleaning my gun. He then paid the doctor outta his own pocket.”
“Neal did that?” Ellie-May whispered and then thought of something “But…but I don’t understand. The day you came to the door, you knew so much about Neal. About what had happened to his childhood friend. How did you know all that?”
After a moment of silence, Matt pressed the tip of the gun against Roberts’s head. “The lady asked you a question.”
“Okay, okay.” Roberts glared at her. “I asked around and found out he was from Hannibal. Turns out I have a cousin there. A couple of wires later, I had all the information I needed. It was the only way I could make you believe your husband and me were friends.”
Ellie-May let out her breath. She couldn’t believe she’d been so easily duped.
Matt reached in his vest pocket. “This is Blackwell’s train ticket,” he said, waving it. “How did it end up at the crime scene?”
Roberts stared at the ticket and shrugged. “Beats me. ’Less he dropped it when he checked out the location of the robbery. He insisted upon checking it before we drove to
town.”
Matt frowned. “Why would Blackwell do that?”
“He was worried that the driver or one of the other passengers had been injured. By the time we got there, the stage was gone.”
Matt returned the ticket to his pocket. “What made you come back to Haywire?”
Roberts rubbed his sore chin before answering. “I read about the statue dedication in the paper. That’s when I found out that Blackwell died before my twenty-four hours were up. I figured that meant the money was still here on the farm somewhere.” He glared at Ellie-May as if she were to blame for all his troubles. “If it weren’t for her brat of a son—”
Not giving him a chance to finish, Ellie-May darted toward him a second time, but Matt stopped her with a hand to her wrist.
She gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Neal. Didn’t—”
“I know, Ellie-May.” Matt said in a soothing voice. “It’s over.”
“Thanks to you,” she whispered, her heart filled with gratitude. Had he not set a trap for Roberts, she might have spent her whole life thinking Neal had robbed that stage. “Thanks to you.”
32
Mrs. Buttonwood was the first to arrive at the farm the following day. “Heard you had some trouble out here last night,” she said, brandishing a basketful of medicinal concoctions. Without waiting for a reply, she added, “Heard Anvil got himself injured again.”
Ellie-May motioned her into the house. News traveled quickly in Haywire, but never as fast as it seemed to reach Mrs. Buttonwood’s ears. “Yes, but not seriously. He just has a few cuts and bruises.”
A look of horror crossed Mrs. Buttonwood’s face. “Mercy me. I swear he needs a full-time nurse. Thank goodness he was around to save you.”
“Yes…uh… He was a big help.” Ellie-May led her to the kitchen where Anvil was eating breakfast. “Look who’s here,” she announced.
Setting his fork down, Anvil stood politely and studied the widow with wary regard.
Mrs. Buttonwood quickly inspected his bruised face. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed.
Anvil gave her a sheepish grin. “It looks worse than it is,” he said.
“We’ll see about that.” Mrs. Buttonwood waited for him to finish his breakfast, then set to work giving his wounds more attention than they deserved. Since no snake poison was involved, she treated his wounds more gently this time, and Anvil relished her attention like a puppy lapped up milk.
After Mrs. Buttonwood had left, Ellie-May couldn’t help but tease him. “Why, Anvil. I do believe you’ve set your cap for her.”
Anvil’s eyebrows practically reached his hairline. “Set my cap, nothing,” he grumbled. “I was just being polite.”
“Hmm.” Ellie-May leaned her back against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. “Have you ever thought about getting married again?”
“No! Like I told you, I have no intention of marryin’ Mrs. Buttonwood.”
“I don’t mean to her. But to anyone?”
Anvil refilled his coffee cup before replying. “Tried that once and it didn’t work out. My wife thought she’d married a banker, and I thought I’d married a homemaker.”
Anvil hadn’t talked much about his early days except to say his wife had run away with a traveling salesman. That was when his life had fallen apart, and he ended up living by the railroad tracks.
“I don’t see Mrs. Buttonwood running off with a salesman,” Ellie-May said.
“Maybe not,” he said, cradling his cup in both hands. “But what can a man like me offer a woman like her? She owns her own ranch. All I own are the clothes on my back. And I’m not exactly celebrated for my beauty, you know.”
“You have a lot to offer,” Ellie-May said. “Your kindness and protection.”
Anvil scoffed. “Trust me. That woman don’t need no protection. Anyone messin’ with her would rue the day.” He took a long sip of coffee and put the empty cup in the sink. “’Sides, I belong here. You and the children are the closest thing I have to family.”
“We’d still be your family, no matter what,” Ellie-May said. “Nothing would change that.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the same if I was livin’ somewhere else.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t want you giving up a chance of future happiness out of an obligation to me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you think I’m doin’?”
She removed her hand. “You tell me. Is it?”
“You and Mr. Neal saved my life,” he said with meaning. “I ain’t ’bout to forget that.”
“You’ve more than paid us back for anything we did,” Ellie-May said. “I don’t know what I would have done this past year without you.”
“Yeah, well, enough ’bout me,” he said. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Ever think ’bout gettin’ hitched again?”
Ellie-May laughed. “Who’s gonna marry a poor farmer like me with two children?” And an outlaw’s daughter, no less.
He shrugged. “A man with a good head on his shoulders, that’s who.”
She sighed. “Aren’t many of those around, I’m afraid.”
“You might be surprised,” Anvil said.
Irritated that the mere mention of marriage conjured up memories of Matt Taggert, Ellie-May cleared the dirty dishes off the table to signal the subject closed. Much to her annoyance, Anvil refused to take the hint.
“I kinda thought that you and that Texas Ranger might, you know…”
“You thought wrong,” she said a bit too hastily and immediately regretted being so abrupt. Knowing that Anvil meant well, she apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just that so much has happened.”
“It’s me who should do the apologizin’. I know when I’ve overstepped the line.”
“If anyone is allowed to do that, it’s you,” she said. “You’re family. And…” She bit her lower lip. “You believed in Neal when I didn’t.”
“Now don’t you go blamin’ yourself for that,” Anvil said. “I have to admit that when I first found that money, I had my doubts, too.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling somewhat better. “You’re a good friend.”
He gave his head an emphatic nod. “Remember that the next time I go stickin’ my nose where it don’t belong,” he said and started for the kitchen door. “I best get back to work.”
“Would you mind rigging the wagon?” she called after him. “I need to go to town.”
“Will do.”
* * *
Matt found James at the Wandering Dog Saloon, sitting at his usual table. Swallowing his anger, Matt pulled out a chair and sat. “Why’d you leave the doc’s house?”
“Got my reasons,” James said without looking up.
Matt pounded the table with his fist. “Your son’s lucky to be alive, no thanks to you!”
James pulled his gaze away from the still-untouched bottle of whiskey. “Yeah, so he said.”
Matt regarded James with more than a little surprise. The whites of James’s eyes looked more pink today than red, and his speech wasn’t slurred. “You talked to him?”
“Yeah. He told me what happened.”
“Did he tell you that you leaving the doc’s place almost got him shot?”
James let out a long sigh. “I had to leave. I’m cured. See?” He pointed to the full bottle. “Haven’t touched it.”
Matt scoffed. “You were only at the doc’s place for three days. That’s not long enough to cure a blister.”
James folded his elbows on the table and clenched his hands together. “You try staying in a room with a bunch of drunks and see how fast you get cured.” His face grew dark. “After I sobered up, I got a good look at the others. Never saw a more sorrowful bunch of losers in my life. I realized that’s how I mu
st have looked to Jesse.”
Matt scoffed. “You just realized that?”
“Things are a bit clearer when you’re sober.” The corners of James’s mouth turned down. “Ellie-May was right. Penelope might forgive me for causing her death, but she would never forgive me for neglecting our son.”
“So now what are you going to do?” Matt asked.
“The doc called in Pastor Wayne, and after a lot of prayin’, the two talked me into reopenin’ my woodworkin’ business. The doc said he’d needed a chest of drawers, and the coffin-maker had made him one.” James made a face. “I swear, the thing looks like a pine box.”
Matt laughed. “So are you going to take their suggestion?”
“Thinking about it. That pine box in the doc’s office might give his patients the wrong idea. I gotta fix that.”
“You up to it?” Matt indicated the whiskey bottle with a toss of his head. “Could be a hard road ahead.”
James hesitated a moment before answering. “I know. But Pastor Wayne made me realize that the bottle ain’t gonna fix my grief.” He fell silent for a moment before adding in a lighter tone, “It won’t be easy living on just food and water, but I did it once. With the pastor and Doc’s help, I reckon I can do it again.”
Matt studied James with narrowed eyes. He sounded sober. Heck, he even sounded sincere, but that didn’t mean his troubles were over.
“So what are you doing here?”
James leaned back in his chair. “Needed to make sure I was strong enough to resist it before I went home.”
Matt glanced at the brown bottle that stood like a sentinel in the middle of the table. “And if you’re not?”
“Then may I rot in Hades.”
33
Ellie-May stood in front of Neal’s statue and stared up at her husband’s face with mixed emotions.
Neal had had nothing to do with the stage robbery, and her children’s future was safe from scorn. For that, she was greatly relieved and, more than anything, grateful. She might have even felt happy had it not been for the guilt pressing down on her like a heavy weight.
Such was her remorse that she imagined that the blue jay sitting on Neal’s shoulder was squawking at her in disgust.
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