Authors: Carolyn McSparren
“Are you all right?” He swept her into his arms.
“Hell, no, man, she’s not all right. She’s bleeding.”
“Eleanor?”
“It’s nothing. A little cut. A couple of bandages will take care of it. Oh, Steve, I thought you’d gone. Please tell me you didn’t, didn’t…”
“Didn’t kill Neil?” He shook his head. “Where the hell’s the EMT van?”
At that moment Big came around the far side of the barn from Marcus’s paddock. He was black with soot and bent double with coughing.
“Big, thank God you’re all right,” Eleanor said.
“I got Marcus shut out in his pasture. I went back to get Sweet Daddy, but there was too much smoke, and then the firemen wouldn’t let me hunt for him.” Tears streamed down his face and mixed with the soot from the fire. “Oh, Doc, Lordy, Lordy, I told you I dassen’t get mad.”
“What’s this about Sweet Daddy?” Steve asked.
“You saved us all, Big.”
“Not him.”
“You tried.”
T
HE FIREMEN WERE PUTTING AWAY
their hoses and equipment. The last of the gasoline had been hosed out of the barn, the hay and shavings soaked to avoid the possibility of a flare-up later.
Eleanor leaned against Steve. Her arm throbbed. It felt
like the world’s biggest paper cut. “I told you it was just a scratch, Steve. I’m a doctor. I know these things.”
“You’re a horse doctor. When I think of what could have happened…” He held her even more closely. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“You couldn’t know that Sweet Daddy would try to burn the barn down. I don’t think he expected to find me here.”
“He would still have killed you.”
“He hated me, Steve.
Me.
Not because of you, but because I’m a woman and he couldn’t control me.”
“I should have warned you about Sweet Daddy. I told Big to watch out for you, but that wasn’t enough. I put you in terrible danger, but I was sure I’d be back before either one of you realized I was gone. If Big hadn’t come down when he saw Sweet Daddy was missing…”
“But he did. Because you warned him. He saved me and he saved the animals.”
“We didn’t save Sweet Daddy. Marcus got his revenge.”
Eleanor made a sound, hugged herself and turned away from him.
“I know you don’t like to think about it, Eleanor, but there’s nothing anyone could have done once he was in the stall with Marcus.”
“If I tell you something, will you swear no one will else will ever know?”
“Of course. The look on your face…my God, Eleanor, Sweet Daddy, he didn’t…?”
She looked startled. “No, oh, no. He said he didn’t have time to teach me a lesson.” She looked around. Everyone seemed to be busy wrapping up the fire and transporting the remains of Sweet Daddy. Big sat on the running board of the EMT van with an oxygen mask over his face. Gil and the others stood around him in a protective phalanx.
“Nobody must ever, ever, know this. Big couldn’t bear it. He caught Sweet Daddy and threw him into Marcus’s
stall. I don’t think he knew where he was aiming—he simply wanted to get Sweet Daddy as far away from that fire and from me as he could.”
“I’m sure he knows that.”
“I doubt it, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I saw the way he landed.” She looked up at Steve with tears in her eyes. “The fall broke his neck. I think when Marcus Aurelius got to him he was already dead.”
Steve closed his eyes for a moment. “Big’s no less a hero for that.”
“He won’t see it that way. He still feels guilty about breaking that punk’s arm when he tried to burn that old hound. How do you think he’d feel if he knew he’d killed a man, even a man like Sweet Daddy who’d just tried to kill me and burn down the barn? He’s come so far, Steve. He can’t ever know.”
“Will the autopsy be able to tell?”
She shook her head. “The injuries came too close together. It’s even possible that Sweet Daddy was still breathing when Marcus got to him, though I doubt it.”
Steve wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “No one will ever know from me, my darling.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Well, Doctor,” Ernest Portree said, “I see you’re breaking the rules again.” But he didn’t sound angry.
“Yes, Warden,” Steve answered. “So am I.”
“You’re damn lucky you pulled it off. I should never have agreed.”
“What’s he talking about?” Eleanor asked.
“This is the first time in my life I’ve ever let a prisoner of mine loose on purpose. And the last. This night has been hell on my nerves.” He patted Eleanor’s shoulder. “Sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. I hope Big is.”
“He’s fine. Damned moose.” Ernest shook his head. “Guess I’m going to have to move up his parole hearing.”
“Parole hearing?” Eleanor pulled away from Steve. “Parole hearing? Ernest Portree, if you don’t get on the telephone to the governor first thing tomorrow morning and get that man a pardon, I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do, but you won’t like it.”
“Whoa, Doctor, settle down.” Portree smiled at her. “I was planning to do just that.” He glanced at Steve. “As for you, Chadwick, I want you in my office. Now.”
“Yes, Warden.”
“Steve?”
“It’s going to be all right, Eleanor. Trust me.”
He turned away and followed the warden.
“You keep
saying
that!” Eleanor called after him.
She worried about Steve while she and the team bedded Marcus down in his paddock, safely shut away from his charred stall, and saw that the horses were lodged in the spare pasture on the far side of the buffalo. The drenched bales outside the barn hung with icicles.
The inside of the barn stank of wet hay and charred wood. Water ran down the aisles and had already glazed over in spots, but there seemed to be no damage to the new wood on Marcus’s stall that a good cleaning and some fresh paint wouldn’t cure. The smell would linger, but eventually that, too, would dissipate.
Big kept fighting the EMTs who tried to administer oxygen to him. “I’m just fine, ma’am,” he said again and again.
“Why don’t you take him back to the compound in your truck?” Gil asked Eleanor quietly. “Then you go home and get some sleep. We’ll handle this. Don’t worry too much. We all knew the kind of man Sweet Daddy was. We’re all responsible.”
“No. Sweet Daddy was responsible. Thanks, Gil. Come on, Big, time to go home.”
“But—”
“Big, get yourself into my truck.”
“Yes’m.”
Neither said a word until they were within sight of the compound. Then Eleanor said, “Thank you, Big. You saved my life.”
“Didn’t save his. I wish…”
“You tried. Will there be other men in the dormitory?”
“Yes’m.”
“I probably should have insisted you go to the infirmary, maybe get a sleeping pill.”
“I’d rather be with everybody else.” As he climbed out of the cab of the truck, he said, “Doc, did I kill him?”
The question Eleanor had been dreading. She tried to sound completely surprised. “No, Big, of course not! Marcus killed him.”
“But I throwed him in the pen where Marcus could stomp him. And he couldn’t get away. I saw that.”
“He wouldn’t have been able to get away from Marcus in any case, Big. No, you did not kill him. Put that thought out of your mind. I saw what happened. You did the right thing. You saved my life and Marcus’s life and the horses, too.”
“Yes’m. If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Doc, I got
mad
again.”
“I know, Big. This time it was right you got mad. If you hadn’t been mad, I don’t think you could have gotten us all out alive.”
“You think so?” He brightened.
“I know so. Now go take a hot shower and go to bed. You’re a good man, Bigelow Little, and a hero. Don’t you forget that.”
S
HE DROVE TO
the administration building and saw from the parking lot that there were lights in Ernest’s office. She might not be welcome, but she intended to see Steve, anyway.
There was no one in the outer office to stop her. She could hear men’s voices from inside the office, but they didn’t sound angry. She knocked, then opened the door without waiting to be invited in.
A half-dozen men lounged around the room. Ernest sat behind his desk, Steve in front of it, but he didn’t look as though he were under any sort of restraint. Through the haze of cigarette smoke she saw Leslie Vickers, the private detective Schockley and a couple of men who had “cop” written all over them.
Steve started to get up, but Ernest stopped him with a hand.
“I thought you’d show up, Eleanor,” he said. “We’re at the end of our little debriefing.”
“What is this all about, please?”
Leslie Vickers came over and took her hand in both of his.
“We now have a confession in Chelsea Chadwick’s murder,” he said.
She glanced at Steve in horror.
“No, my dear, not Steve.”
This time Steve did come to her and put his hands on her arms. “I was after the wrong man. Neil didn’t kill Chelsea. Posey did.”
“Her sister?”
“Neil knew almost from the beginning,” Leslie continued. “He says he had to protect his wife, and in law he couldn’t be forced to testify against her. I think he wanted the money. If Posey went to prison, the insurance money and Chelsea’s estate would have reverted to Steve.” He smiled at his client. “As it does now, of course. You are once more a wealthy man, Steve.”
“And able to pay your bill, Leslie,” Steve said with a smile.
Leslie laughed. “I had thought of that.”
“But—”
“Plenty of time for details later,” Leslie said. “At the moment suffice it to say that Mrs. Waters has confessed in great detail and on the record, Mr. Waters will probably go to jail as an accessory after the fact, and as soon as it can be arranged, Steve’s conviction will be vacated.”
“Steve? Is it true?”
He nodded.
She clung to him. “Tonight when you weren’t there, I was so afraid you were going to…”
“To kill him? It’s all right, Eleanor. It was a setup.”
“A setup? And you didn’t tell me? You let me think…”
“I couldn’t tell you. It had to look like a legitimate escape. The man driving my ‘getaway’ car was a cop, and I had Henry and Charlie over there on me all the time. If I
had
decided to run, there were so many cops around Neil’s house I wouldn’t have had a prayer.”
“He was wearing a wire,” Leslie said. “I truly thought Neil was guilty. I seldom make mistakes like that.”
“Posey actually confessed?”
“When she thought I was going to kill Neil,” Steve said. “She would have shot me, except that he intervened. It was close. Neil’s in the hospital with a bullet in his shoulder that was meant for my heart.”
“Oh, Steve!”
“This is the first time I have ever aided and abetted a
prison escape, and I’m damned sure it’s my last,” Warden Portree said. He turned to Charlie Schockley. “Charlie, we are now even. No more favors.”
“Yeah, I was right on this one, though, you gotta admit,” Charlie said. He turned to the assembled detectives. “Ol’ Ernie here and me, we go back a long way, back to when Ernie was just a cop like the rest of us.”
“You weren’t right the first time,” the warden said. “Remember
that,
why don’t you? Now, since we know Chadwick here isn’t going anywhere, may I suggest that we leave the prisoner and the doctor alone and go to the mess hall for some coffee.”
The moment the room was empty, Steve kissed Eleanor. “We both came so damn close to dying tonight.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I feel like an idiot.”
“I didn’t dare. You had to seem truly worried when nobody could find me. You’re the reason I’m not a killer. Before I met you, I
was
planning to kill Neil. For three long years it’s kept me going—until you came along. The more I thought about killing Neil, the more I thought about losing you. You believed in me, Eleanor, when nobody else did.”
“I didn’t believe in you, either. Not at first.”
“But you did believe in me eventually. And you fought for my soul. You gave me the strength to make one more try to prove I didn’t kill Chelsea.”
She clung to him.
He buried his face in her hair. “Thank God you did. I’d have killed the wrong man. I’ll never forget that.”
“Tell me…”
“Later. We’ll have all our lives to talk. Right now I just want to kiss you and hold you.” He smiled down at her. “I don’t suppose Warden Portree would be exactly thrilled if we made love on his desk, would he?”
“All our lives?”
“If you’ll have me. I don’t know what I’ll do with my
life, but I do know that I want you to be a part of it forever.”
“Yes, Steve, yes, yes, yes.”
W
ARDEN
P
ORTREE WAS STUNNED
when Steve and Eleanor called on him a week after Steve and Big were pardoned.
At first Steve hadn’t wanted to accept a pardon because it implied that he had done something he needed to be pardoned for.
Leslie Vickers told him not to be a fool. It might take a year to get his record completely cleared, and then only if Posey Waters repeated her confession in court. Better to take the pardon, leave prison a free man and start to rebuild his life.
That turned out to be easier than he’d thought possible. Neil officially confessed to being an accessory after the fact of Chelsea’s murder. His confession effectively nullified not only Steve’s sale of his part of the company to Neil three years earlier, but Neil’s sale to the conglomerate.
The members of the conglomerate weren’t happy. They upped their offer twice. Steve was perfectly happy to give them a deal on his data engine, but he had no intention of relinquishing control of his company. He’d told Eleanor, “We’ll make a deal. It may take a while, but we’ll get it done.”
She had been astounded when he had her drive him to see Neil in the prison ward at the hospital.
“I nearly let hate destroy me, my darling,” he told her. “It very nearly cost me your love, and then I damn near killed the wrong man. Now that he’s the one facing prison, he’s going to need all the help he can get just to survive. I have to do what I can.”
Now Eleanor and Steve sat facing Warden Portree’s desk. He sat there shaking his head.
“You want what?” he asked.
“You are a justice of the peace, aren’t you?” Steve asked.
“I have to be, yes.”
“So will you marry us, here, in your office?” Eleanor asked. “We were thinking of waiting until late April or early May so the weather will be pretty but not too hot.”
“Why on earth would you want that, Chadwick? To come back here after all you’ve been through?”
“It’s the only place where everybody who was on the team can attend—even Slow Rise.”
“What about Eleanor’s new team members? The ones who replaced Steve and Big—and Elroy?”
“We want them, too, of course, but mostly we want Gil and Robert and Slow Rise and Selma to be able to come,” Eleanor answered.
“Gil Jones is due for parole in July.”
“I know,” Steve said. “He’s got a job waiting for him with an old friend of mine who runs a limo service.”
“And Robert’s already working two days a week for J. K. Saunders,” Eleanor said. “But he’s not eligible for parole until next Christmas. And of course, Slow Rise…”
“Isn’t eligible for parole for years.” Portree sighed. “Of course I’ll do it. Maybe we can even arrange a little reception afterward in the mess hall if you’ll pay the county for the refreshments. No alcohol allowed.”
Eleanor asked Precious to be her maid of honor. Sarah Scott fought against what she called “waddling down the aisle like Egg Roll” in her advanced state of pregnancy.
“You’re not due until late June or early July. You’ll look beautiful.”
“I’ll look like a beer barrel.”
Eventually, however, she was persuaded to act as matron of honor.
Steve had asked Big to be his best man. Big would wear a specially tailored navy blue suit with a specially tailored white shirt and extra long red power tie for the second
time in his life. Steve worked hard with his tailor to make sure the suit was large enough.
B
IG IN FACT
got to wear his special suit a few weeks before the wedding when Gil Jones drove Big, Steve and Eleanor, Robert Dalrymple, Big’s dog Daisy, and Selma to Mission, Tennessee. At first the warden had refused to let Robert and Gil leave the prison compound, but Eleanor had persisted. After all, Selma could keep them in line.
“Gilford Jones, do you swear to me this limousine is not hot?” Selma twisted in her seat and frowned at Gil, who had on regular slacks and a polo shirt specially purchased for the expedition, and who drove the white stretch limousine with casual ease.
“Gilford? Your name Gilford?” Robert Dalrymple, who sat on the jump seat behind the driver, guffawed.
“Shut up, Robert,” Selma said.
“Yes, Selma, I promise you this limousine is not hot. I borrowed it from the man who’s going to hire me when I get out on parole.”
“Does he
know
you borrowed it?”
“Yes, Selma,” Gil said patiently. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you busted in a hot limousine.”
Eleanor squeezed Steve’s hand and whispered, “Just like old times.”
Big overflowed the jump seat next to Robert. He had refused to take the rear seat, even though he would have fit much better on that.
From time to time he pulled at the collar of his white shirt. “I ain’t never had no nice suit like this,” he said again and again. Daisy, the one-eared pit bull, slept at his feet with her brindle head on his shiny new shoes.
Outside the softly purring stretch limo, spring had already begun to ripen into summer. The trees were in full leaf, and thick hedges of wild roses rioted along the verges of the road.
“Steve, you sure this is a good idea?” Big asked. “Me going home like this to see Mama’s grave?”
“Absolutely.” Steve tucked Eleanor’s hand under his arm. He never wanted to let her go again. He’d come so close to losing her, and then, having to endure another two months of prison over Thanksgiving and Christmas before his pardon came through had been worse hell than he could have imagined.
Eleanor and Steve had already driven up to Mission once to oversee setting the tombstone they’d ordered for the grave of Big’s mother, Mattie Little. Big had no idea how much the stone had cost, and Eleanor and Steve promised each other he never would.
They hoped he’d like the marble-and-granite headstone. It was simple but impressive.
As the limo drove into Mission shortly before noon, heads turned to follow their progress down the shabby main street. Eleanor saw a few people point fingers and whisper as they recognized Big.
Without telling anyone what she’d done, Eleanor had sent a complete story of Big’s heroism and subsequent pardon to the
Mission Weekly Missive.
She’d included Big’s story of the nearly burned hound and the mayor’s rotten son, but she was certain the paper wouldn’t print that part. They didn’t.
They did, however, grudgingly print a short squib about Big. The limo pulled up to the small country church with its equally small graveyard, and everyone climbed out.
“Look, there’s somebody new buried,” Big whispered, and pointed to a large arrangement of spring flowers beside one of the graves.
The others hung back. Steve wrapped his arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. She held his hand very tight.
Big walked around the graves, searching for some sign that would identify his mother’s plot. Daisy trotted behind him. Finally he stopped in front of the flower arrangement with its tall headstone. He turned to the others with a puz
zled expression. “This says it’s my mama’s grave, flowers and all.”
“That’s right, Big,” Steve said. “We took the liberty of setting the headstone and sending the flowers. I hope it’s all right.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said, and began to cry.
Daisy looked up at him and began to whimper.
Eleanor and Selma were the next to dissolve. Gil and Robert and Steve refused to look at one another.
Big snuffled, pulled out a large white handkerchief, blew his nose, and stuffed the handkerchief back into his trouser pocket, but only halfway. It stuck out from under his coat like a flag of surrender.
Eleanor heard the front door of the little church open, and a moment later a man pattered down the steps. “Mr. Little?” He held out his hand to Big. “I’m Reverend Sumner. I’ve been hoping to meet you.” He turned a sunny smile on the rest of the group. “All of you are most welcome, yes, most welcome.”
“Thank you, Reverend,” Steve said.
“I have a cardboard box of your mother’s keepsakes, Mr. Little,” Reverend Sumner said. “I brought it out here to the church when I found you were coming today. Would you like to take it with you? It’s not much, I’m afraid, but there is a rather lovely old quilt, and some of the finest pine needle bowls I’ve ever seen. Quite valuable, I’m sure. I kept them back from the sale because I thought they might be family heirlooms.”
“My mama made those,” Big said proudly.
They had lunch at the same restaurant as before. People looked at Big, but only a few spoke to him, as though they were afraid someone in authority would see them.
As Gil drove them out of town, Big said, “Whew-ee. I don’t never want to come back again except to visit my mama’s grave.”
“Very wise,” Steve told him.
“Good thing I got me a good job at the clinic now, and a place to live I can keep Daisy.”
“We’ve needed a watchman on the place at night,” Eleanor told the others. “Now that Dr. Weincroft’s research building is finally finished, it’s going to be even more important. His research is highly sensitive. Lots of pharmaceutical companies would love to steal it.”
“Gil, when you and Robert get out, you got to come see me. I got my own little apartment.” Big smiled at Steve. “Steve even got me a bed big enough to sleep on.”