In the Sheriff's Protection Page 13

  The eggs and bacon that he fried for himself and ate tasted like sawdust, and had him rubbing his stomach while the food sat inside him, congealing into a solid lump. The rest of his insides were just as out of sorts. The idea of seeing Clara had him grinning one second and frowning the next. She shouldn’t have to do all this alone. She’d been alone practically her entire life. He shouldn’t have left her alone, but he’d had to. Hadn’t had a choice.

  Didn’t this time, either, and there wasn’t a dang thing he could do about it. Any action he took to assist her could cause Hugh to get off scot-free. In fact, the only hope there was for Hugh to get charged was that Clara had some incriminating evidence. The lawyers were both scheduled to give their summations today, and the judge would make his ruling.

  No one else had gotten off the train: he’d acquired that information without rousing suspicion. That hadn’t helped much. Him, that was. Deep inside, he had this hope, this wish, that she was here because of him. That shouldn’t be. But something had happened to him back there at her ranch. He’d started to feel again. Deeply.

  Burying those thoughts, Tom cleared off the table, washed his plate, cup and fork, and then pushed the hot pan and coffeepot to the back of the stove. It was time he headed to his office. He had no desire to listen to Hugh squawk about being set free today, but didn’t have a choice in that, either. Hugh had driveled on every day, so today would be no different, except for the fact that his nonsense talk might come true today.

  Then what? Would he insist Clara leave with him? Would she leave with him?

  Tom wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him. Talk about buying the cart before the horse. He hadn’t even seen Clara and was already fretting about her leaving.

  Crossing the field that separated his house from the sheriff’s office, he told himself that the lawman inside him needed to take over. Make him see things in one way and one way only. The right way. The way of the law. Without feelings. Because a lawman would never, not for a single moment, forget that Clara Wilson was a married woman. Married to an outlaw who had robbed the good people of Oak Grove.

  Later that morning, while walking into the town hall, Tom was pretty proud of himself. He hadn’t looked up the street toward the hotel since stepping foot in his office. Nor had he searched the crowd for her, the one following him into the room. Most everyone in town, men and women, had filled the seats every single day, and would today, too. They had a stake in the outcome. This was their town, and though Julia, the mail-order bride, hadn’t been part of the town then, she was now, and if there was one thing Oak Grove community members were proud of, it was making sure everyone was taken care of.

  As he followed Brett, who was once again escorting Hugh to his seat, Tom remembered how Brett’s wife, Fiona, had gotten bit by a rattlesnake shortly after she’d arrived in town. The women had banded together to take care of Fiona night and day. They’d also moved her into Brett’s place because the house Josiah had put her in wasn’t furnished. The women had almost tarred and feathered Josiah about that, too.

  The mayor had learned a lesson on that one, and hadn’t been quite as strict when it came to the other mail-order brides as he had the first few.

  A bit of a shiver tickled Tom’s spine. He certainly hoped Josiah didn’t order another dozen brides. As far as he knew, the only two not married of the original twelve were the two who had been on the train that was robbed: Julia Styles, the woman who had been shot in the side but was doing fine now, and another, older woman, Bella Armentrout, who had shot one of the robbers. The other ten women were married and now integral parts of Oak Grove, almost as if they’d always been here. As well as a few others. Brett’s bride, Fiona, hadn’t been part of the first or second batch of brides who had arrived. She’d come to town on her own, with her two sons in tow, and so had Hannah, Teddy White’s bride, whom the women had flocked around like mother hens, sewing clothes and nappies for the baby long before she’d been born. Doc Graham’s new bride wasn’t one from out east, either. Sylvia had been here for some time. Her husband had deserted her a few years back, leaving her and a small boy to fend for themselves on a run-down chunk of property that had flooded out this spring.

  The Oak Grove women had come together then, too, not just for Sylvia, but the others who’d been flooded out. They’d taken food, blankets, clothes, furniture, anything anyone could spare to those who needed it.

  As he took his seat in the front row, nodding and greeting those around him, including Brett, who’d taken a seat directly behind Hugh, Tom couldn’t help but wonder how they’d all respond to Clara.

  “Sheriff.”

  He turned to his right, and nodded as Steve Putnam sat down next to him. “Steve.” Leaning forward a bit, he nodded again. “Mrs. Putnam.”

  “Hello, Sheriff,” Mary said. “Hope you’re well today.”

  “Same to you, ma’am,” Tom replied. Mary had been one of the first brides, and Steve was rarely seen without her. Actually, she’d gone to Steve’s ranch the day she’d arrived in town. Josiah had been hot under the collar when he’d discovered that. And when he’d learned Mary and her sister Maggie were making and selling tonic stronger than the whiskey Danny and Chris Sanders sold over at the Wet Your Whistle Saloon.

  “Sheriff.”

  Tom once again nodded a greeting. “Jackson, Mrs. Miller,” he said as Maggie Miller sat down next to her sister and Jackson beside her, taking up the last seat in the front row.

  Something different about the women caught his attention, and he leaned forward again, to look past Steve. He’d been gone several weeks, and though he’d seen them since arriving home, he hadn’t noticed they’d grown. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that before meeting Clara, he’d never really noticed women—other than the fact they were women, or in Mary and Maggie’s case, looked alike. Leaning back, he said to Steve, “I guess congratulations are in order.”

  “Thanks,” Steve said before he leaned closer to say, “I won’t be offended if you’re hoping they both don’t have twins.”

  Tom grinned while saying, “As long as they don’t start making and selling tonic, I don’t have a concern one way or the other.” Remembering the stunned look on Clara’s face, he added, “Your sister-in-law is the only woman I’ve ever had to arrest.”

  “I bet that was hard,” Steve said.

  Honest, and because there were things about today making him feel the same way, Tom said, “Like shooting a horse with a broken leg... Even though you know it has to be done, it guts you.”

  The judge entered through the side door that Abigail White sat next to. Nodding at her, Alfords walked over behind the desk facing the room. The room went quiet as everyone turned to face the front of the room. Men removed their hats and set them on their laps, while women did the same with their gloves, all of which would later be used to fan themselves when the heat grew as the day went on. With two raps of his gavel against the desktop, Alfords said, “Ladies and gentlemen, court is now in session.”

  Judge Alfords was still making his opening speech, reminding the spectators the rules of order, when the door in the back of the room opened. Tom told himself not to turn around, not to even glance over his shoulder, not to... It was too late. His curiosity was greater than his intelligence.

  Disappointment plunged his excitement clear to his boots as he watched Angus quietly close the door. While walking to the only empty seat in the house, a chair along the back wall, Angus acknowledged him with a wave.

  Tom gave a single-finger wave in response and turned back to face the judge as Alfords asked if the lawyers were ready to begin.

  The only witness left to testify was Bella Armentrout. Josiah had been saving her for last. She’d gotten a good look at Hugh because he’d snatched a cameo pin off the front of her dress.

  Josiah stood. “We are, Your Honor. At this time I’d like to call Miss Bella Armentrout
to the stand.”

  The judge turned to Hugh’s lawyer. “Any objections?”

  “No, sir,” Baldwin said, half standing, and taking his seat again in one easy movement.

  “Miss Bella Armentrout, please step forward,” Alfords said.

  A hushed mumble came over the room, as well as the screeching of several chairs moving as the woman made her way out of her seat to the aisle that had been left open by the rows on either side of the center of the room. Since she was not a small woman, in breadth or height, chair legs once again scraped the floor. Her skirts rustled and her heels clicked a steady beat as she walked forward, past Josiah’s table and the one Hugh and Baldwin sat at.

  Due to the fact Tom had hauled Hugh in and therefore had to testify, which he’d done several days ago, Chester was the one swearing people in, and did so for Miss Armentrout.

  After Alfords had asked her a few preliminary questions, he nodded to Josiah. “Mr. Melbourne.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Josiah said, stepping around his table. “Miss Armentrout, can you recall exactly where you were sitting on the train on the day Judge Alfords just referred to?”

  “Yes, I can,” Miss Armentrout said loud and clear, and with a glower toward Hugh.

  If he’d been more sure of today’s outcome, Tom may have smiled about then. Hugh Wilson should have known better than to irritate this woman. A rattler would have the sense to head back to its den if she leveled those eyes on it.

  Baldwin cleared his throat, as if that might make Miss Armentrout cast her eyes the other way, and at that same moment, Steve Putnam bent closer.

  “How’d you like to wake up next to that?” Steve whispered.

  Tom had heard such remarks before, but never put much thought behind them. Until now. Steve wasn’t being rude; he was merely comparing a woman to his wife, who he thought was the most beautiful woman on earth. That was how it should be. Every husband should think that. Even Bella Armentrout’s, when she did marry. As those very thoughts formed, Tom had to pinch his lips together, partly because Mary elbowed Steve so hard he grunted.

  It was Josiah who finally broke Bella’s glare by asking her to further explain. She did, saying that Miss Julia Styles was sitting on the bench seat beside her, and that they were in the very middle of the train. That there were three bench seats behind them, and three in front of them, with the exact same number on the opposite side, and that was where the slaughterhouse agent had been sitting. Directly across the aisle from her. She then went on to describe what happened, how the train blew its whistle several times before stopping, and that three men, with kerchiefs across the lower halves of their faces and guns drawn, boarded the car before the train had rolled completely to a stop.

  She described them all, and her descriptions matched the two who had died as well as Hugh precisely.

  With urgings from Josiah whenever she paused, Bella Armentrout continued, saying the shortest of the three had gone to the back of the train while the one with red hair stayed near the front, and the tallest—she let it be known she was referring to Hugh with another glower his way—had walked to the center. All three had started demanding that people empty their pocketbooks and bags of any valuables and drop them in the canvas bags each man carried. When she claimed neither she nor Miss Styles had any money, Hugh had reached down and plucked the cameo, which had been her mother’s, right off her dress, tearing the material in the process.

  She stated he then turned his attention to the slaughterhouse man, who had slid a flat leather bag under his bottom. The robber had told the man to get up but the man had refused. The bandit had then cocked the gun, saying he’d warned him.

  The slaughterhouse man pulled out a gun, but the outlaw fired first. The man’s gun had gone off, too, but he was already dying, the weapon falling from his hand. Other shots started going off. She wasn’t sure from where. She said Julia Styles was screaming, as were others, and then the robber had turned and shot Julia. Bella said that was when she’d reached into the front of her dress and pulled out her gun.

  “It’s just a little Colt derringer, and I knew I only had one shot. That man,” she said, while pointing at Hugh, “was already running for the door at the front of the train, and I knew my little one shot wouldn’t hit him, so I shot the man running behind him. The shorter one. Right in the back of the knee. Other people were shooting, too, and the short man fell to the floor. The redheaded robber had been shot, too. He was stumbling out the door. And that man—” she indicated Hugh again “—shot him in the back, making him fall off the train. Last thing I saw, he was jumping over the robber he’d just shot.”

  A low muttering spread through the room and Judge Alfords let it settle before he said, “Go on, Miss Armentrout.”

  “That’s about it,” she said. “I didn’t see him grab the loot bag from the other robbers as some say happened, nor did I see him cut the hobbles off that poor black-and-white horse as others did, but that robber’s face was this close to mine.” She held up a thumb and forefinger, showing a short distance. “Close enough that I got a whiff of his nasty breath, and close enough that I’d know those beady, sunken eyes anywhere.”

  The murmurs spreading through the room were louder this time. Tom glanced at Judge Alfords, expecting him to raise his gavel at any time, and then back to see Baldwin and Hugh bending their heads toward one another, whispering.

  When the room finally quieted, Alfords asked, “Mr. Melbourne, do you have any more questions for Miss Armentrout?”

  Josiah nodded toward the witness before saying, “No, Your Honor.”

  Alfords glanced toward Abigail White and waited for her to flip a piece of paper onto a growing stack and position her pencil over a new sheet before he asked, “Mr. Baldwin, do you have any questions for this witness?”

  Pulling his jacket over his stomach as he stood, Baldwin walked around his table before saying, “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Your witness, then,” the judge said.

  Baldwin walked all the way to the front, stopping right next to Miss Armentrout’s chair. In Tom’s mind, Baldwin would do better staying several feet away. The look on Bella’s face said the lawyer’s closeness didn’t intimidate her, but it did irritate her.

  Frowning and rubbing his beard, Baldwin asked, “Miss Armentrout, you just claimed you’d know the eyes of the man who robbed the train you were on anywhere, didn’t you?”

  “You heard me,” she replied. “You were sitting right there.”

  Baldwin gave her a sarcastic smile. “I was, but I didn’t hear you say what color his eyes were.”

  “Because I didn’t,” she said. “But if you want to know, they were green. Not a dark green, more on the lighter side, but green.”

  The air Tom had been holding slipped out of his chest as a heavy sigh.

  “Your Honor,” Baldwin said, “with your permission, I’d like to have Mr. Wilson step close enough for Miss Armentrout to tell us, the entire courtroom, what color his eyes are.”

  Before the judge could answer, a request came from the back of the room.

  “Excuse me, Your Honor, but may I approach the bench?”

  Tom, recognizing the voice, spun around so fast his chair nearly spun with him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clara’s entire being shook from the inside out, and she tried her best, her very best, to not look at the man who sat on the center edge of the front row. If her eyes met Tom’s she might not be able to speak. There had been several times while the witness had been speaking that she thought about standing up and stating her request, but had held out, waiting for the moment that felt exactly right.

  That was what Angus had said. That she’d know the exact moment. Of course, he’d said it in an idiom that she’d had to decipher, but eventually had. Just as she’d waited until the sound of chairs being shuffled about while the witness had walked forward
would disguise her entrance. It had worked. Other than Angus, only one person had noticed her, a man who’d left his seat and gestured for her to take it.

  An entire herd of cattle could come through the door right now and no one would be able to hear them. Hugh had jumped to his feet, and a huge black-haired man who had to be Brett Blackwell had instantly grabbed Hugh’s shoulders, shoving him back into his seat.

  The lawyer was shouting for the man to release Hugh, while the judge pounded his wooden hammer against his desk, shouting for the lawyer to get his client under control and the room to come to order.

  Needing a small amount of support to keep her upright, and knowing she still couldn’t look toward Tom, Clara glanced sideways, toward Angus. With a wink and a nod, he flipped his cane forward.

  Her feet felt frozen to the floor, her entire body paralyzed in place, to the point she could barely shake her head.

  Angus flipped his cane again.

  Praying for strength and fortitude, Clara took a small step. Then, because she was still upright, she took another one. And another. They grew easier then, each step, and they became more forceful. As she walked past the rows of chairs, the room got quieter. By the time she stepped between the two tables, even the lawyer shouting at Brett Blackwell had gone silent.

  Hugh, however, shouted something about her not being there. She didn’t hear exactly what he said because the judge had shouted even louder.

  “Mr. Wilson, I will hold you in contempt if you don’t quiet down!” The judge pounded against his desk loudly.

  Clara took a final step that brought her directly in front of the judge, trying not to flinch as his hammer rapped the top of his desk a final time.

  In the silence that followed, her own breathing echoed in Clara’s ears.