Beautiful Bad Man (21 page)

She patted the hand he’d returned to the table, picked up her fork and began to eat. He watched her for a moment, the pain in his head and nausea in his guts receding.

Pulling his own plate back, he picked up his fork. “You sure look pretty in that blue bonnet.”

She smiled around a mouthful of beans and swallowed. “I’ll wear it in the wagon tomorrow.”

T
HEY SPENT THE
next night in Hubbell. Knocking on Becky’s door and asking for shelter discomfited Norah, but Becky’s attitude toward Caleb was what took all the pleasure out of the visit. He frightened Becky, and without being rude, Norah couldn’t make the girl stop leaping to dramatic and silly conclusions.

She climbed to the wagon seat beside Caleb the next morning still tired and worried about where Caleb, who had left her at Becky’s and disappeared, had spent the night. Asking would be foolish. Better not to know. She wouldn’t ask him. Wouldn’t.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

“In the wagon with Early. Ogden even let me clean up this morning at his pump. He didn’t say, but he likes the way Jeb and Stonewall look, and Van Cleve bought two teams from him. The big horses he had out back are all gone now.”

Jeb and Stonewall did look good. The dappled gray rumps a few feet away were round and muscled. The horses’ coats gleamed in the sun. They felt good too, able to trot for long stretches.

For the first time since Micah’s visit, one corner of Caleb’s mouth curled up slightly, his brown eyes danced with amusement. “So you were afraid I’d break into Lawson’s again.”

“No, not really.” Oh, why not admit it? “A little, and I also wondered, that is, I didn’t think you would, but I didn’t want to think....” Deep breath. “The morning we got married, I saw you coming out of the Royal Flush.”

“We weren’t married then.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I shouldn’t.... I’m sorry.”

“You apologize too much.”

“I know. You tell me. I’m sorry. I mean....”

He laughed at her, and she couldn’t help laughing too.

“I bribed the barkeeper to let me sleep in a storeroom because it’s clean, and the hotel isn’t. No woman that night, but you know....”

“Yes, I know,” she said quickly stopping him, not wanting to hear.

“You don’t imagine I much like thinking about Hawkins, do you?”

The thought had never occurred to her, but she liked hearing it. She should tell him she didn’t much like thinking about Joe either. She would tell him. Someday.

They reached the town of Fischer in early afternoon. A few stores and a saloon lined the town’s only street.

“Hubbell looked like this about ten years ago,” Norah said. “How do we find him?”

“Let’s see if we can just spot a church. Can’t be many in a place this small, and I’d rather not ask around.”

“Maybe he’ll give us the girls. Raising them by himself would be hard. Maybe he’ll give them up rather than have anyone know.”

“Sure. That could happen.”

The day was hot and the sun bright. Caleb’s tone slid ice over the back of Norah’s neck and down her spine.

C
AL SPOTTED A
plain white building with a cross over the door among the scattering of houses outside the town. Even if this was the right church and Whales lived close, finding him might require asking. What Cal wanted was to get in and out of town unremarked, but he could already tell that wouldn’t happen.

He parked the wagon beside the church and left Norah there with Early and orders to stay, no matter what she heard. He had more faith in Early obeying — he tied the dog to the wagon.

A woman came to the first door he tried. No more than Norah’s age, she had two boys hanging from her skirts and a pleasant smile on her face.

“Reverend Whales lives in the house behind the church.”

Cal thanked her and turned to leave. Before he’d taken two steps, her voice stopped him.

“Mister? Excuse me, but you don’t look like someone who would be inquiring about joining his congregation.”

On another day he’d find that humorous. “How would a person like that look?”

She hesitated then blurted, “You should stay away from him. He’s not just fire and brimstone. He’s mean.”

He had pictured the woman who tended to Grace as older, gray-haired and grandmotherly. “Did you know his late wife?”

“I did.” She stepped out closer to him. “Are you her brother?”

So much for not leaving tracks. “Cousin. I’ve come for the girls.”

“Oh, I’m glad. So glad. He won’t want to let you have them, you know.” Her eyes left his and went to the gun belt, the rifle. “He has a shotgun. I’ve seen him threaten people with it. Be careful.”

Abel Whales didn’t look like anything to be careful about at first glance. Short, thin, hair and full beard streaked with gray. His eyes were gray also, not brown like Henry Sutton’s, but the fanatical gleam was so much like his uncle’s Cal froze at the sight.

“If you’ve come to find Jesus, you get rid of those guns and come back,” the old man said.

Thin and high, the sound of his voice broke Cal’s paralysis. How could anyone sit in a church and listen to that preaching at them?

“I’m Cal Sutton, and I’ve come for Grace’s daughters,” he said.

Whales snaked a scrawny arm back into the house. Without the woman’s warning, Cal might have been too slow, but he had his pistol clear by the time Whales brought the shotgun to bear, the hammers on both barrels back. Cal’s chest shot knocked the man back through the door, the shotgun blasting upward as he fell, bringing down shards of wood and plaster on top of the body.

Picking up the shotgun, Cal eased the hammer down on the second barrel, then moved into the doorway to check Whales. Dead. Behind him he heard Norah running, calling his name. In front of him, inches from her dead father’s head, stood a small, dark-haired girl clutching a rag doll.

He straightened and leaned against the door frame, still dealing with his blood buzzing wildly through his veins, pounding in his head. He’d never come closer to being the one on the ground, blood no longer leaking because the heart was no longer pumping.

Norah reached him, and he felt her hands, patting, stroking, checking for damage.

“I’m fine.”

“That boom was a shotgun, wasn’t it?”

“It was, but I’m fine. If you want to help with the girls, you need to start.”

He jerked his head toward the doorway. There were two of them there now, not crying, not making a sound, just staring. For the first time memories of Grace and her sisters floated from the dark place in his mind, the silent acceptance of whatever went on around them, the blank stares.

“If there’s a back door, meet us there.”

For a woman who had thrown fits over salvaging wood from abandoned farmsteads, Norah stepped over a dead man with remarkable calm. Cal stayed there in the doorway a moment, staring at the place where she had disappeared from sight and marveling.

Heart slowed almost to normal, Cal went back to the church, let Early loose, and drove the wagon to the back of the house. Norah had both girls outside with her, boxes filled with their clothes at her feet, and a baby in her arms.

“This is Deborah,” she said, touching the bigger girl on the shoulder, “and this is Judith.” She pointed to the one with the doll. “And this little sweetheart is Miriam.” She jiggled the baby in her arms, smiling down at it.

Cal didn’t care what their names were and didn’t want introductions. What he did want was away from this town as fast as possible. He lifted the girls into the wagon, threw the boxes in, and all but shoved Norah, still cradling the baby, to the wagon seat.

“You have to get the cow,” she said, arranging her skirts.

“What!”

She pointed to a small brown cow in a pen beside a shed. “The baby needs milk.”

“We can’t be hauling some cow around. We need to get out of here. Fast.”

“Why?”

“Because I just killed a preacher.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“I don’t want to explain that to some lawman. It’s always best to be as far away from bodies as possible when someone finds them. Believe me. I know about this.”

Muley look. “We can’t flee in a wagon with two little girls and a baby. And a cow. We’ll just stop at the sheriff’s office and explain. He needs to send someone to take care of things here anyway.

“We’re not hauling a cow back with us, and we’re not talking to any sheriff.”

Her hand closed over his arm. “If you want to run, take Forrest and run. I can drive the wagon. I’ll drive home, cow and all.”

She had never driven the wagon a single mile, and holding the Percherons to a cow’s pace would take some doing.

“I’m not running,” he growled. “I’m making myself unavailable, and you’re not bringing any of them home. They’re going to Jason.”

Her hand went from his arm back to the baby. She shifted it a little on her lap, her touch — possessive. Damn it. If he didn’t stop her now....

“Taking a cow that’s not ours is rustling,” he said.

“The cow belongs to the Whales family, and this is the Whales family,” Norah said, pointing to the children in the wagon.

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like any of it. Most of all he didn’t like her thinking he was running. “All right. I’ll get the cow, and we’ll find the sheriff, but they’re going to Jason’s. Don’t say another word about it. Not one.”

He tied the cow behind the wagon next to Forrest, who snorted and tried to pull away. At least the horse understood. It would take a year to get to Jason’s with that milk cow along, maybe two. And why was he worried about it, Cal thought savagely. He was going to be in jail, waiting to hang.

The sheriff’s office was in a handy place right across from a saloon. The baby started crying as Cal pulled up. According to Norah it needed its pants changed, and it needed a drink. He was almost glad to leave the fuss behind and do the suicidal thing Norah had shamed him into doing.

The sheriff behind the desk was the type Cal most hated. Middling size, a deep tan emphasizing the honed-down rawhide look of him, and sharp blue eyes that would never miss anything you wanted them to.

Ah, who was he fooling. Hating anyone with a piece of tin on his chest was just smart if you were Cal Sutton. If you were Cal Sutton and about to commit suicide because of a muley woman, there was no reason to ease into things.

“I killed Abel Whales a few minutes ago. He threw down on me with a shotgun because I came to take his daughters to kin the way their mother wanted. They’re in my wagon outside.”

The sheriff looked through the window. “That your woman with them?”

“My
wife
.”

“Will the girls tell me you’re kin and they want to go with you?”

“No. They don’t know me.”

Cal pulled out the letter and handed it to the sheriff. After another glance outside, the man began reading. He took his time, went back over parts. When he was done, he handed the letter back.

“You’re not Jason Sutton.”

“No, I’m Caleb. The girls’ mother was my cousin.”

The small attempt to avoid recognition didn’t work. This time the sheriff’s head-to-toe examination all but peeled skin. “I’ve heard of Cal Sutton.”

Nothing good. Cal kept quiet.

“Let’s go take a look at Whales.”

At least Norah looked a little worried when he told her what they were doing, but she was too busy holding a bottle for the baby and talking to the girls to say more than, “I’ll wait here for you.”

Nothing had changed at the house. The shotgun lay where Cal had thrown it, and the body lay where it had fallen. The sheriff took it all in, including the shotgun pellets embedded in the door frame.

Cal heard someone approaching and whirled. The woman who had warned him of the shotgun stopped a little distance away. “I heard the shots and was afraid to come, but when I saw you, Sheriff.... Is he dead?”

“He is.”

“And you’re all right,” she said to Cal.

“I am, and I owe you for the warning. Without it I might be the dead one.”

“Let’s see that letter again,” the sheriff said, and Cal handed it over. “Is this Grace Sutton’s handwriting, Mrs. Duncan?”

“Yes. She finished that letter the day she died and gave it to me. My husband paid a man he knew who was traveling to Hubbell to deliver it in person.”

“Do you know if this man is really her kin?”

Mrs. Duncan studied Cal again. “No, but he has her eyes. He has eyes like Grace’s.”

She turned to leave, but Cal stopped her, offering her a gold eagle. “You shouldn’t be out of pocket for that letter.”

“We only paid a dollar, and we did it for Grace. I can’t take that.”

“You probably saved my life today. Take it and buy something pretty, buy something for your boys.”

She looked at him uncertainly, then at the sheriff. In the end she took the money. “Tell the girls.... Tell them I’m happy for them, but I’ll miss them.”

Cal and the sheriff were halfway back to his office when the sheriff spoke. “Nobody’s going to miss him. He would have been moving on again soon anyway.”

“They weren’t here long?”

“A year maybe. Came to replace a fellow who died. Real boon for the other churches around.”

Remembering the voice and the zealot’s eyes, Cal understood.

“Since you’re kin, I expect you’ll want to pay for a funeral.”

“I’m kin to the girls’ mother. I don’t care if you dump his body outside town and let the coyotes take care of him.”

“Let me put it a different way. Since you killed him, I expect you to pay to bury him.”

Cal handed over a double eagle this time, but it was worth it. He began to believe he might be leaving town today.

Back at the wagon, the sheriff nodded to Norah and addressed the girls where they sat side by side in the bed. “Did either of you see what happened today? Did you see what happened to your pa?”

The older girl’s expression never changed. After a moment, the younger one said, “I saw. Pa went outside. Then he got his gun and tried to shoot him.” She pointed at Cal. “He’s our cousin. Norah’s our cousin too because she’s married to him. We’re going to live with our Uncle Jason. Mama wanted us to live there.”