Authors: Penny Richards
Chapter Thirteen
W
avering between fear and rage, Rand paced the hallway outside Doc Henshaw's surgery. He stopped from time to time to give Laurie and Grace an encouraging hug. Beyond the surgery door, Maisie helped her husband as he tried to save Beryl's life.
Tolley had gone out to the Eberly ranch to tell her folks what had happened. They would arrive soon, if their buggy could make it through the snow. Mabel no longer rode horseback, but she'd probably make the effort for one of her daughters.
Charlie Williams had tended the wounds on Deke's leg and Hardison's arm. Now the two outlaws were trussed up like Christmas turkeys and stuffed like baggage into the cargo room at the train station under the watchful care of Charlie, Mrs. Winsted and two upstanding cowboys.
Rand couldn't have been prouder of the way the courageous townsfolk had come together to stop the robbery. Nolan's courage had surprised him most, but he supposed bankers lived with the possibility that they could be robbed. No wonder he'd wanted to hire a sheriff. Too bad he hadn't seen through Hardison sooner.
Once Dad heard about the robbery attempt, he'd no doubt say it was indeed time to hire a lawman for the town and build a jail, too. Until then, the closest law was Sheriff Hobart over in Del Norte. The townsfolk all agreed they needed to escort the prisoners into Hobart's care until the circuit judge came to the area. They'd elected Rand to lead the posse, but he refused to go until he knew whether Beryl would survive. If she didn't, Hardison and Deke would get their due. A long jail term for attempted robbery would be nothing compared to being hanged for murder.
Despite the successful thwarting of the robbery, Rand couldn't help the flash of annoyance sweeping through him. He'd prayed that if someone had to get hurt, it should be him. The preacher would no doubt tell him God was still in control, but Rand would have to think on that for a while. The Eberly girls weren't the dainty sort of female, but they still deserved respect and protection, as all women did. He'd gladly take a bullet for any one of them.
The face of one dainty girl who'd been just as brave as the sisters came to mind. Rand had been sick with fear when he saw Marybeth in Hardison's clutches. Yet she'd struck the man with her hatpin just as he was about to shoot Rand. Brave girl. She'd saved his life. But when everything got sorted out, it was Nolan's arms she'd sought. Or maybe Nolan had just reached out to her before Rand could. He'd probably never know.
Though it grieved him, this was probably for the best. Even with Hardison in custody, someday somebody else would come gunning for Rand and would try to make a reputation for himself. He couldn't risk Marybeth's life again, not when she'd come so close to being killed. Best to let her go so she could marry someone like Nolan and live in a nice house in town with servants to do all the work. He reluctantly dismissed his fond images of her living on the ranch because there she'd be doing chores as even well-off ranch women did. Like Mother and Rosamond. Like the Eberly girls, who were too much like sisters to interest him in a romantic way.
The door to the surgery opened, and Maisie emerged, her bloodstained white apron a frightening symbol of her sister's tragedy. She rushed to gather her other sisters in her arms.
“She's hurt bad, but she's gonna make it.” While the three of them wept together for joy, Doc came out looking tired but pleased.
“Hardy stock, these girls.” He emitted a broken laugh. Or maybe it was a sob of relief.
Rand couldn't speak over the emotion welling up inside his own chest.
Thank You, Lord.
Until that moment he hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to kill both Hardison and his partner for their evil deed. He didn't know whose bullet had hit Beryl because both of them had fired several shots. And both of them had had murder in their hearts or they wouldn't have fired in the first place. With all the bullets flying around, only the grace of God kept more of them from finding a target. God truly was in control, just as the preacher always said.
* * *
Until Marybeth sat beside Mrs. Foster's bed to tell her about the robbery, she'd managed to hold on to her emotions. After the amazing people of Esperanza had come together to imprison the two crooks, Nolan had asked Marybeth to visit Anna and explain why he would be late coming home for supper. Anna had taken the news with remarkable stoicism for a twelve-year-old. It was the Meanses' housekeeper who'd struggled to maintain her composure. Marybeth had felt the need to sit with both of them until the older lady calmed down. Once they'd received word Beryl would survive, she'd made her way home along the snow-covered streets.
Now in the presence of her landlady, she felt her own self-control slipping. After relating the afternoon's events as gently as she could, she laid her head on her friend's lap and let the tears flow. Mrs. Foster caressed her hair and murmured comforting words. Soon a soft rumbling in Marybeth's ear alerted her to her duty. She sat up and dried her damp cheeks.
“Well, now that that's all done, I'll go fix us some supper.” She forced a brightness she didn't feel into her tone. “We have some of last night's shepherd's pie left over. Does that sound good?”
“It sounds very fine indeed.” Sympathy and understanding shone from Mrs. Foster's eyes. “And if you want to talk some more, I would be happy to listen.”
Their supper warmed, Marybeth brought it to the bedside so they could eat together. Mrs. Foster consumed a few bites before putting down her fork and regarding Marybeth with a searching gaze.
“My dear girl, when are you going to marry Rand Northam?”
Marybeth gulped down her bite and took another. At last she put aside her tray. “Rand no longer wants to marry me.”
“What nonsense.” Mrs. Foster barked out a harsh cough, but the deathly rattle no longer reverberated through her chest. “I've seen that boy's eyes when he looks at you. He loves you. And when a Northam falls in love, it's forever.”
Marybeth shook her head. “After he realized I came out here with no intention of marrying him, I think he decided I didn't deserve his love. He's been ignoring me these past few days, and I don't blame him.”
“He may be trying to guard his heart. That's understandable. But if you ask for his forgiveness, I have no doubt he'll give it.”
Hope flickered briefly inside her but then died. Even before they'd all discovered Beryl had been shot, Rand hadn't tried to comfort her after her ordeal. He'd left her to Nolan, which had cut her deeply, not to mention how much it complicated matters. By accepting Nolan's calming embrace, she may have given both men the wrong impression about where her affections lay. But how could a person control an emotional reaction in the aftermath of chaos?
She would do as Mrs. Foster suggested. She'd go to Rand and ask forgiveness. Yet even if he gave it, even if he proposed to her, she simply could not marry him until she learned what had happened to Jimmy. Too much of her life, too much of her heart, had been invested in finding her brother. She couldn't give up until she looked on his face...or his grave.
* * *
On Tuesday, after the six men in the posse had packed warm clothes and provisions for a trip of uncertain length, Rand fetched the outlaws' horses from the livery stable, paying their bill with money from Hardison's pocket. Nolan, ever the gentleman, informed Hardison that his deposit would be safe in the bank until he needed it. Charlie Williams suggested they should make sure it wasn't stolen before giving it back to the outlaw.
In high spirits, and ignoring the complaints of their wounded prisoners, the group rode out of Esperanza, some hoping, others praying, they would be back by the end of the day, or at least by Wednesday. Although the snow had stopped and the sun had steamed off a goodly portion of it, a surly bank of dark clouds hovered above the mountains at the north end of the Valley. None of the men wanted to be stuck in another town due to the snow because it might be weeks before they could return home.
Heading west on the rolling trail, they were slowed by deep drifts the sun couldn't reach, so it was late afternoon before they arrived in Del Norte. They found Sheriff Hobart in a sad state, coughing and wheezing and unable to lift his head off the pillow on the cot beside his desk. Fortunately he had no prisoners at the time.
“My deputy quit last week,” he said when he could catch his breath. “A couple of you men will have to stay and keep watch over these scalawags until the judge comes.”
Rand groaned inwardly but straightened his shoulders. “This is my responsibility. I'll stay.” He couldn't wait to see the last of Dathan Hardison, but wait he must. “Sheriff, you'd best go home so your wife can take care of you.” He didn't like the old man's gray pallor and prayed he could whip this sickness.
Between coughs, the sheriff wheezed out, “I need to deputize some of you men first.”
They'd decided Frank Stone and Andy Ransom, both unmarried cowboys, would stay to help Rand. The sheriff managed to say all the right words, receive their pledges to uphold the law, and pass out three silver badges before collapsing back on his cot.
While Rand and two others kept an eye on the prisoners, now locked safely behind the iron bars of the jail cells, the other three men helped Hobart get home. When they returned, they brought a fresh loaf of bread and a steaming kettle of stew to go along with the ever-present coffeepot on the jailhouse's potbellied stove.
On Wednesday, those who were leaving got an early start in hope of beating the storm now moving south across the Valley. As the day darkened and snow began to fall, Rand's spirits sank. His family would be all right. Beryl was on her way to recovery. But in all the chaos, he and Tolley hadn't managed to sign the papers to pay off Mrs. Foster's house. Worse still, in his absence, Nolan could court Marybeth all he wanted to.
Rand hadn't had much chance to think about his decision not to court her anymore, but here in this desolate jailhouse over the next few days he began to think he'd made a mistake. In front of him was a stack of Wanted posters bearing the faces of men who'd made the wrong choices in life, just like Dathan Hardison and Cole Lyndon. Just like Deke Smith, whose simpleminded countenance belied his evil soul.
Rand didn't want to reach the end of his own life with any more regrets added to his grief over killing a man. As the days wore on, he realized he would always regret not trying to win Marybeth's heart. He'd be honest with her about the risk of being married to a man whom other gunslingers might want to outdraw and then let her decide whether or not to take that risk. For his part, he'd be downright foolish not to find out whether she would prefer him over Nolan.
Risk was a part of life. After the war Rand's parents had risked their future to come out to an untamed territory and start building a new life far from the safety of Boston's upper class into which they'd both been born. George and Mabel Eberly and Captain and Mrs. Foster had done the same. In Del Norte he saw many people risking everything, including their lives, as they set off for the mountains to look for silver and gold. In Rand's view, Marybeth was worth far more than any material wealth. And she'd risked everything to come West in search of her one remaining family member.
Love and admiration for her flooded his heart, his mind. How he wished he could go right now and find Jimmy O'Brien and bring him home to her for Christmas. Then maybe she would feel free to marry him. And, oh, how he wanted to marry her. But responsibility demanded that he stay to see this matter to an end. Even if Nolan won her heart in his absence.
In the meantime he regretted not having made arrangements with Mrs. Winsted to purchase some Christmas presents for the children of Esperanza. Before he could even send up a prayer that Nolan would change his mind and let the children attend the party, he noticed Andy Ransom seated across the jailhouse whittling on a piece of wood. As it took on the shape of a wooden soldier, Rand's burden eased. This was the Lord's answer even before he prayed. They would carve wooden toys, soldiers for the boys and tiny baby dolls for the girls. That would be just the thing to keep his mind off of Marybeth.
Who was he trying to convince? She would always be at the forefront of his thoughts. If she married Nolan in his absence, Rand would never be able to stay in the San Luis Valley.
* * *
For the rest of the week after the robbery, Marybeth didn't have to report to work until midmorning because Nolan shortened business hours due to the snowstorm. By Friday, the early December sunshine brightened the landscape and even gave a suggestion of warmth for most of the shorter daylight hours. Marybeth was grateful when Nolan dismissed her at three o'clock so she could purchase some provisions at Mrs. Winsted's general store on the way home.
As Nolan helped her put on her coat, his hands lingered on her forearms for a few seconds. “May I bring Anna for her usual piano lesson this afternoon?”
“Of course.” She stepped away from him, trying not to give offense for the abrupt movement by picking up her hat and pinning it in place. While she doubted she'd ever have to use that long hatpin as a weapon again, it certainly had come in handy the previous Monday.
“After that, if you do not mind, may I speak with you?” He dipped his head in his shy way. “Since you've assured me Mrs. Foster is much better now, perhaps Anna can visit with her.”
Marybeth secured her dark blue woolen scarf around her neck and then tugged on the matching mittens her landlady had knitted for her during her convalescence. As much as she wanted to deny Nolan's request, perhaps it was time to settle this matter. Even if the man she loved never spoke to her again, she certainly wouldn't play with the affections of her employer. “Yes, of course.” Manners required her to add, “Perhaps you could stay for supper.”