Defiant, page 32
If he were Matt Sinclair, he wouldn’t take a chance on someone like Wade either, even knowing only part of the truth.
The walls were closing in on him, crushing him. He tried to blank out his mind, but he couldn’t. A hundred possibilities flitted through his mind. What if Kelly went directly to the Circle J? What if he didn’t come here at all? Wade was so damn helpless. Just as he had been before.
Mary Jo didn’t sleep at all the night after Wade left. Although he’d said he would try to get back, she knew in her heart he was really saying goodbye.
She wished she knew exactly what he was going to do. Despite the fact that he’d denied doing anything for her, she knew he was risking everything for her and Jeff. She wished she knew what everything was.
What haunted him so? They know something about me. She kept trying to think what it could be, what could be worse than his first confession to her, that he’d killed three men in cold blood.
She knew him well now. Or thought she did. He still kept many parts of himself guarded. But she knew everything that was important: his loyalty, his courage, his gentleness with both her and her son.
She had lost before because there wasn’t anything she could do. She wasn’t going to lose now if she could prevent it. She wasn’t going to let him walk away because he thought that was the best thing for her. It wasn’t. It never would be.
If he didn’t return in the morning, she would take Jeff to the Abbots as Wade suggested. She would go into town herself, ride her mare, which would be faster than the wagon. She would take Tuck with her.
She could fight this time. She would fight for him. For all three of them.
Mary Jo rose before sunset. She dressed and went outside and watched the sunset come up, but today its beauty hurt instead of sending a thrill through her. She kept seeing Wade ride off, as he had twenty-four hours earlier, his back stiff and straight until he’d looked back …
He’d given himself away then, in that one backward look. There had been a world of longing in that gesture. She wiped away a tear from her face, then went to fix breakfast for Jeff and the two men.
Sinclair took breakfast to Wade. “When do you think they might come?”
Wade wished he knew. It had been twelve years since he rode with Kelly. The man always looked for an advantage. Wade took the proffered cup of coffee and hesitated. He’d been thinking all night and had an idea. He didn’t know how Sinclair would take to it. “You wouldn’t have some spare men?”
Sinclair looked at him curiously.
“For a posse. Kelly will be expecting a posse to chase Shepherd. And he’ll take advantage of that, of you and most of the men leaving town to look for Shepherd.”
“You wouldn’t be here just for that purpose?” Sinclair asked with sudden suspicion. “Get us out of town and they could hit the bank and break you out?”
“Kelly’s not that smart.”
“But you are,” Sinclair said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Wade shrugged. “It was just an idea. Send out a few men, some that wouldn’t be too useful here.”
“I wouldn’t have any idea where to send them.”
“South, toward Mary Jo’s place. He’s somewhere in that direction and it’s the logical route for a posse to take. Only figures a wanted man would flee to the mountains.”
“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”
Sinclair was needling him again, and Wade didn’t like it, but he wouldn’t let it show. He shrugged.
“That’s where I found that body a month ago.”
Wade kept his eyes level. Sinclair wasn’t going to let go of that bone. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
Matt Sinclair sighed. “You sure you don’t know where Kelly is?”
“He let me find him once. He won’t do it again, not until he wants to be found.”
Sinclair got the coffeepot and poured them both another cup of coffee, handing Wade’s through the bars of the cell. “I wish I knew what to make of you.”
Wade shrugged. “It’s not complicated. If I had the use of this arm, I would have gone after him myself. The only thing I care about is two people who were real good to me.”
Sinclair eyed him skeptically. “That doesn’t go along with the rest of the package you’ve given me.”
“Let’s just say I got religion.”
“I don’t believe that either, but we’ll discuss it later. I’ll go see about forming a posse.”
After he left, all Wade could do was wait. The hours passed particularly slowly because he didn’t know what was going on. Only the growing heat in the jail told him the sun was rising. The shades were still down on the windows and only a little light filtered through.
Time. Christ, he hated this enforced idleness. He wished he was out there with Sinclair. He knew about ambushes. He knew more than he wanted to know about them. Time. So much time to think. So much time to remember. So much time to regret. He swallowed a deep breath to keep from pounding on the barred door. He forced himself to sit, to wait, to blank out his mind. It had worked once. It didn’t work now. He heard men ride out, and he wondered about his gray. He would make sure Mary Jo got him.
He heard the lock turn in the front door, and he moved up from the cot where he’d finally sat after pacing for an hour or more. He stood and went to the barred door, expecting Sinclair to come with more questions.
It was Sinclair all right, but Mary Jo was with him. He went still, wondering how much the sheriff had told her. His fist clenched the bar. He didn’t want her to see him like this, like a vicious animal in a cage. But he should have known she would come. At least Jeff wasn’t here.
“I told you not to come,” he said tightly.
“Tuck came with me.” Her voice was low.
“Did you withdraw …?”
“The bank’s closed.”
Wade looked over at Sinclair, who had raised the shades and was now peering out the windows as if he had no interest at all in the two people staring at each other. Wade wanted to jam his fist in the man’s face. He’d had no right to bring Mary Jo here. And then he realized the fallacy of that thought. Hell, Sinclair had every right, and that was galling. Wade didn’t have any rights now. He’d given them up when he walked in here yesterday and broke Shepherd out. That fact, though, didn’t make this easier to take.
She looked so goddamn beautiful.
And Sinclair hadn’t told her a thing. He knew that from the look in her face. It hadn’t changed since yesterday morning at sunrise. Or was it a year ago? A lifetime? Her eyes still shone when they looked at him, even as he stood behind bars.
“Jeff?”
“He’s at the Abbots’. I think he’ll stay there this time. At least he promised when I told him he might put you in danger if he came.” She looked embarrassed. “It was the only argument that worked.”
“It didn’t work for you?”
“No,” she said softly. “I couldn’t let you go.”
“You should have,” he said bitterly. “It would be better for all of us.”
She moved closer to him, almost leaned against the bars and put one hand on his.
“Don’t,” he said in a strangled voice, tearing his hand from hers and retreating from the bars, leaning against the stones of the back wall, looking at another wall, anyplace but at her, at those trusting eyes. After a moment, he looked past her to Sinclair. “Can’t you take her to the hotel?”
Sinclair hesitated, looking from one to the other. “I really think that would be best, Mary Jo. We’re expecting a little company. I want you off the streets.”
“Why are you holding him?”
Sinclair looked toward Wade, then back at Mary Jo. “Safest place for him at the moment.”
“But …”
She wasn’t going to go on her own. And every moment she stayed here was dangerous. Wade wanted her off the street, safe in the hotel. Hell, safe at home. “Tell her,” Wade said suddenly. “Go ahead and tell her everything.”
Just then, all three of them heard a number of hoofbeats on the dry-packed dirt street. Matt Sinclair looked out and grinned suddenly, then took the keys to the cell door and opened it.
Wade found himself staring at him.
“Just stay with me,” Sinclair said. “Don’t say a damn thing.”
The door flew open and a tall man entered, flanked by two others. All three wore badges. Sinclair greeted the leader with familiarity. “Glad to see you, Dave.”
“When I heard Kelly was down this way, you couldn’t keep me away. Been riding all night,” the newcomer said. He looked at Wade and Mary Jo curiously. “I’m Marshal Dave Gardner from Lake City.”
Sinclair made the introductions. “This is Mary Jo Williams, who owns a ranch about twenty miles from here and Wade … Smith, her foreman. He’s the one who recognized Kelly.”
Dave Gardner nodded at Mary Jo, then fixed a stare on Wade. “You sure it was Kelly?”
Wade had stepped outside the cell. He nodded, wondering what kind of game Sinclair was playing. “I’m sure.”
“You think they’re going to hit the bank here?”
“That’s what he thinks,” Sinclair answered for him, cutting off any additional questions.
Gardner looked from one man to the other, obviously sensing something odd, but he didn’t pursue it. Instead, he turned back to Matt Sinclair.
“When?”
“Anytime now.”
“Where do you want my men? I have six with me. All good men, good shots.”
“Thank God. All mine are townsmen. Willing enough, but none are easy with guns.”
“Just tell me where you want us.”
“I have ten men posted in windows and on roofs above the street. You were probably in their sights when you came in. If your men can replace four nearest the bank, I’d feel a lot better.”
The marshal nodded. “I’ll do it now.”
Sinclair hesitated. “I’d better go out and give a signal. I don’t want any accidents. You wait here,” he told Wade, “and I’ll take Mrs. Williams to the hotel.”
Mary Jo looked from one man to the other, then surrendered. At least, she appeared to surrender, Wade told himself. And what in the hell was Sinclair doing, allowing him out of the cell, apparently leaving him free in his office? Free for the moment.
Mary Jo leaned up and kissed Wade, apparently indifferent to the avidly watching observers. The kiss was long, sensual, and … loving, so damn loving that all protest fled from him.
“Mrs. Williams?” Sinclair prompted after a moment, and Wade reluctantly let her go, moving a few steps away, trying to quiet the quaking in his heart. She looked back at him for a long moment, then followed Sinclair and the other men, leaving Wade alone in the room.
25
Wade looked at the cell, then at the door. Freedom. It had become more important to him after the last day and night in jail. Infinitely more important.
There were even guns within reach. But he wasn’t certain he was good enough at shooting with his left hand to hit a target.
He went to the door and opened it, half expecting an armed guard. There was none. The sheriff was at the end of the street, directing several men. There were men with rifles on roofs, but they were all looking toward the road from the south.
And there were horses within an arm’s reach.
Freedom. And just as important, he would never see the disillusionment in Mary Jo’s eyes.
Why hadn’t Sinclair told her about Brad Allen? Why had Sinclair left him an open invitation to flee?
I’m through running. The words he had spoken so bravely earlier. But that was before he fully realized how he might spend the rest of his life. He’d been prepared to die, even to hang. He wasn’t sure he could live in a cage for twenty or thirty years.
And he wasn’t at all sure he could face Mary Jo and tell her the truth. Or Jeff. Jeff would try to find excuses, reasons, and that would destroy some of the boy’s inherent decency. There was no reasoning away murder.
A horse was seconds away. And then what?
He couldn’t join Manchez again. He’d only bring trouble on their heads. The twelve-year-old search would be resumed. He would be hunted again with renewed effort, and he would never stop running. Mary Jo and Jeff would read someday of his capture or death. Another one of Anderson’s guerrillas brought down.
Sinclair was no one’s fool.
He couldn’t figure out why Mary Jo hadn’t been interested in the lawman. He appeared to be everything a woman should want: decent, hardworking, honest. Wade was everything a woman should avoid. Perhaps when he wasn’t around …
The door opened and Sinclair came back in alone. “Still here, I see.”
“You told me to wait,” Wade said, biting back the smallest of smiles.
“People don’t always do what I tell them.”
The smile disappeared. “I hope Mary Jo did.”
“I think she’ll stay put for a while, for your sake. I stressed that point, just as she apparently did to Jeff. It’s the only thing that seems to get through to either of them.”
“Why did you let me out of the cell?”
“I wanted to see whether you meant it when you said you were done running. If you are, maybe I can help.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t see your kind much. Because you might have saved this town. You’ve been with those Indians up in the hills, haven’t you?”
Sinclair had done that before, switched subjects so rapidly he could easily disarm someone just as he fired a shot into their heart.
“Talk is,” Sinclair continued, “the Utes found young Jeff. They wouldn’t go to that trouble unless they had good reason.”
Wade was silent. It was obvious the sheriff was fishing.
Sinclair continued, his voice soft but compelling. “There’s also been talk of a white man living with them. He even married one of the Ute women. Had a kid. I was wondering what happened to him?”
So Sinclair had put the pieces together. Wade should have expected it by now. Sinclair’s pleasant expression hid one hell of a lot of shrewdness.
“You through?”
Sinclair shrugged. “Just curious.”
“So am I. Why didn’t you tell Mary Jo about that poster?”
“You’re the one who wants to stop running. Seems like you should tell her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Depends on what happens in the next few hours.”
“I don’t think I like your games.”
Sinclair smiled. “Not many people do.” He looked at his watch. “If they’re coming today, it should be soon. A telegram from Texas says your friend prefers afternoon. He plans his getaways to the west. Pretty smart. Eyes are blinded by the sun.” And then Sinclair switched topics again. “You want to come with me?”
“Where?”
“Inside the bank. I thought about stopping him on the street and shipping him off to Texas, but it would be safer for the town to take him inside the bank now that I have some professional help. I don’t like shooting in my streets.”
Wade narrowed his eyes. “Why take me along?”
“I got a feeling about you, mister. A real strong one. Damn if I can put a handle on it, but something just tells me to take you along. Of course, you don’t have to go.”
“I could stay in a cell?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Sinclair smiled. “Thought you might. Can you handle a gun at all with that left hand?”
“Well enough to crack your skull.”
“That’s true, though it wasn’t too smart to remind me.”
“I didn’t think you’d forgotten it,” Wade said wryly.
The sheriff reached in one of the drawers and took out the six-shooter Wade had handed him yesterday. Wade checked. It was loaded. He didn’t say anything, though he wondered at the man’s carelessness. He tucked it into the band of his trousers.
Sinclair checked his own six-shooter. “Dave’s gonna be the clerk and one of his men the manager. Another will be a customer. You and I will be behind the counter. Our other men will be outside. I figure one of them will wait outside with the horses, so there will be five of us to their three, and they won’t expect us.”
“I still can’t shoot worth a damn. Why do you want me?”
“You know him. You’ll know his voice when he comes in. Your face might surprise him. And you want him. Bad enough to come to me. But,” he added softly, “I want them alive.”
Wade nodded. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he was tired of killing. That last one, that miner, had demonstrated how much. He’d felt no satisfaction at the man’s death. There hadn’t even been hate left after the long hunt. He’d only felt empty. Alone. Ready to die himself.
And then Mary Jo and Jeff had come along, and he’d found embers of himself still alive.
They entered the bank. The owner, Sam Pearson, clucked around nervously for a few minutes, worrying aloud about whether he should stay or not, and was finally ejected by the sheriff as more hindrance than help. The lawmen all took their places, Wade sitting on the floor next to Matt Sinclair.
Sinclair was silent for a few moments. “Maybe I’ll get my horse back. I sure liked that horse.”
Wade was reminded of his role in that piece of horse stealing. He didn’t think that was Sinclair’s intent. The words had been spoken wistfully. He could think of no reply that wasn’t self-serving; he added that slice of guilt to all the rest.
“Heard you’re real good with horses,” the sheriff continued, and Wade wondered what was coming next. The lawman, he was discovering, seldom said anything just to hear himself talk. Every word, each question, seemed to have some purpose, even if it seemed a little obscure at the time.
“I like horses,” Wade replied. “They don’t talk.”
Sinclair chuckled but fell silent.
There were no customers, and Wade realized the entire town must know by now what was going on. He hoped the silence in the street didn’t alert Kelly. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Kelly would just ride on, go back to Texas or up to Wyoming. Or maybe he would hang around and go after Mary Jo if he suspected Wade had crossed him. If Kelly didn’t show, Wade would probably go back to jail, and Mary Jo and Jeff would be alone. Of course, they had Tuck and Ed now, but neither man was a match for Kelly and his gun-hands. Neither was he, though, not with his busted arm. Wade took out his gun, and fingered it with his left hand. It still wasn’t comfortable there.
