Twenty-two

“Git your caboose in here, son. You look worse’n a treed polecat.” Bart Daniels waved Luke into the inner sanctum of his office.

“Shoot! I feel worse than that, Bart.” Luke swept an inch of dust off the only available chair and dropped onto it. “Don’t you ever do any cleaning?”

“Folks o’ El Paso don’t pay me to traipse around here in one of those frilly white pinnyfores carryin’ a mop bucket.” The sheriff’s mustache bristled like porcupine quills.

Luke grinned at the image. “Hold on to your galluses, old man. Too early in the day to get riled up. Besides, you don’t have the figure for a pinafore.”

He dodged the pencil thrown at him.

“Always hafta be a smart-ass. One in ever crowd.” Bart leaned back in his chair and propped his elbows behind his head. “Feelin’ worse’n a lowdown polecat, huh? Now why do you suppose that is? If’n I was a bettin’ man, I’d say it’s concerning the Missus Foltry.”

A deep sigh escaped. “Remind me not to play poker with you.” Luke fidgeted in his chair. “Got any coffee handy?”

“Reckon I do.” The man cocked his head to the side and glared at him through one eye. “If’n you think the pot’s clean enough to suit you.”

“Dang it, you old coot! Guess I’m paying for my earlier comments.” He watched Bart shuffle to the potbellied stove for the soot-blackened pot. He reckoned there was a lot still to come he’d wind up paying for. Like when he arrested his new sister-in-law.

Ain’t nothing easy when duty and fam’ly’s involved. That had become the McClain family mantra. Luke had first heard his grandfather say it, then his father.

Lord, they’d spoken the truth. Duty. Family loyalty. Which fork in the road would he take? And at what cost?

“You gonna tell me why you’re here, or am I gonna hafta drag it outta you?” Bart passed him a steaming cup of black liquid.

“With your smeller, you should have been a coon dog.” Luke sipped on the brew, playing the game he loved.

“You know, Luke, if you wasn’t so durn likable, I think I’d just shoot ya for bein’ such an annoyance.”

“Didn’t know you loved me so much.” Luke leaned back and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “I’m thinking Duel’s new wife is Jessie Foltry. Leastwise, that’s what my gut tells me.”

“What? Why would Duel marry a husband-killer?”

Luke wiped his eyes. He’d asked himself the same question. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t level with him. Maybe she did and he doesn’t care. Maybe I’ll sprout wings and join a band of angels.”

“The likelihood of that happening is slim.”

“So’s the chance Duel’s wife ain’t Jessie Foltry.”

“Great God in the mornin’! I can see why your tail’s a-draggin’.”

“That ain’t the half of it. I found the woman to be everything Duel needs and then some. Shoot fire, Bart, I ain’t sure I didn’t fall in love with her.” Luke wearily pushed his hat onto the back of his head. “Called herself Jessie Rumford before she took to wearing the McClain name. Got the face of an angel with a disposition to match. And she’s wrapped Pop and Duel around her little finger.”

Bart hooked both thumbs in his galluses and reared back. “You’re sure she’s the same woman?”

He related the fact that he’d found no Rumfords in Cactus Springs, and the ones in Pecos County’d never heard tell of her. “I came back here to ask Jessie’s parents some questions.”

Bart ran his fingers through the thin wisps of hair that remained. “Her father died two weeks ago. Reckon worry kilt ol’ Zack Sutton. You can talk with Phoebe, though I doubt she’ll be much help.”

“Worth a try. Think I’ll mosey over there.” Luke set his cup on the only corner of Bart’s desk that wasn’t buried beneath a ton of paper.

* * *

Phoebe Sutton answered the door with fire in her eyes and a rifle in her hand. “State your business.”

Luke lifted his hat politely. “Texas Ranger, ma’am. Don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble’s what you’ll be getting if you don’t get off my porch.”

He ignored the threat. “I came to talk to you about your daughter.”

“Don’t know where she is. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of her.” Phoebe raised the rifle to her shoulder.

“Hold it, ma’am. I just came to talk.” Hell, he’d hate to hafta shoot the old woman in self-defense. Wouldn’t look good on his record.

The long-barreled weapon wavered slightly. “Make it quick. Don’t have all day.”

“I think I know Jessie’s whereabouts.”

“Then why haven’t you arrested her if you know?”

“Want to make sure first. If it’s the same one, she’s married to my brother, Duel McClain.”

Phoebe let the rifle drop to her side. “Is she all right? I worry about her, you know. She’s my baby.”

“How well did you know Jeremiah Foltry?”

“Hated the man’s guts. A shifty-eyed weasel. Jessie changed after she married him.” The woman clucked between her teeth. “Had a bad feeling. Zack claimed Jeremiah beat ’er. She never came around us what she wasn’t covered with bruises.”

“You or your husband ever ask her where she got them?”

“Shore. Jessie, she tried to make light of ’em. Made all kinds of excuses.” Phoebe stood her rifle beside the doorframe and motioned to the chairs on the porch. “Care to sit a spell?”

“Be nice, ma’am.” Luke wondered at the change that had come over Phoebe. The woman had gone from hostile to a virtual jabber box. More than likely, she ached to hear about her daughter. “It had to be hard on you when she shot Jeremiah and disappeared that way.” He settled onto a hard wooden chair.

“If she shot him, he durn sure deserved it. I raised my girl up in the faith.” Phoebe pursed her lips as if daring him to say different, and perched stiffly on a rocking chair. “You know, a woman can only take so much.”

“That’s a fact, ma’am.” Luke was beginning to get a clear picture of Foltry, and every new shred of information made him despise the man more. He didn’t like the direction this investigation had taken. Didn’t like it one dadgum bit.

“Jeremiah was pure evil. About a year ago he stopped her from having any contact with us.” A faraway look came into her eyes. She rocked slowly. “Jessie sent us a note telling us not to worry, that ever’thing was fine, but said she wouldn’t be able to see us for a while.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who delivered the note?”

“Not Jeremiah, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. A woman who worked there brought it. Had a sneaking suspicion Jeremiah didn’t even know Jessie sent it.”

“Only doubts?”

A tear inched down her cheek. “We knew Jessie lived in a bad, bad situation. Not a blasted thing we could do about it.”

Luke felt sorry for the lonely woman. More and more Jessie appeared to be a victim, not the cold-blooded killer they’d led him to believe. Still, his job was to bring the woman in, not judge or convict her. Would Duel understand that? Pain knifed through his belly.

“Tell me, Ranger, is she happy and well? What does she look like?”

For the next half hour, Luke described Jessie’s life with Duel in Tranquility, the McClain family, the farm.

“Tranquility. I like that,” she said, then she pierced him with a pointed stare. “Your brother. Is he an honorable man?”

“The best, ma’am.” But what about him? How could he put his sister-in-law in jail for defending herself? What kind of man did that make him? Duty and honor soured in his stomach.

* * *

“Pwetty. Pwetty, Mama.” Marley’s voice sounded strange.

“What, sweetheart? What’s pretty?” Jessie turned from her thoughts of how best to tell Duel her secret and the little detail of adding the orphaned Butler kids to their family. And how to tell him she loved him so very, very much.

She gasped. Blood dripped from the child’s hands and mouth.

“Marley!” She managed to reach the girl as she collapsed to the floor. So much blood. What? How?

When she lifted the precious bundle, a piece of glass fell from Marley’s clutched fist and clinked onto the floor.

“Oh, my baby. What have you done?” The words ripped from her raw throat. Marley’s eyes fluttered. She was so limp. Sickening terror welled from deep inside Jessie.

Shock made her knees wobble, and she barely made it to a chair. With Marley on her lap, she ran her finger inside the girl’s mouth and encountered tiny fragments of glass.

Duel came in from outside. “Jess, what happened? Did Two Bit have an accident?”

“I don’t know.” Her frightened voice sounded far away. “I looked up, and she was standing in the doorway with blood dripping everywhere.”

“What the hell?” He bolted to her side, his ashen face reflecting his own horror.

Dear God, if something should happen to the love of his life, she’d never forgive herself. Why hadn’t she kept a more watchful eye on Marley?

“A piece of glass fell from her hand. Just now when I felt inside her mouth, I found more of the same.”

“Do you think she was eating it? And where in tarnation would she get glass?”

“We’ll worry about that later, Duel. Right now, saving her is all I care about.”

“I’ll go for the doctor.” He started for the door, then abruptly turned. “No. Not this time. I won’t make that mistake again. We’ll take her to him.”

Without being told, Jessie knew he referred to Annie. This couldn’t be happening to him again. They had to save Marley Rose. She couldn’t die.

* * *

“It’s glass, all right.” Doc Mabry held up a blood-soaked piece of cotton. Bits of glass glittered from it. The man peered over his spectacles. “Know where she got it?”

Miserable and guilt-ridden, Jessie could only shake her head.

“My wife found her like this, Doc.”

“Don’t know how much she ingested?”

“If we knew that, we’d tell you,” Duel snapped.

Jessie laid her hand on his arm. “The doctor’s trying to help. He’ll take care of our daughter.” He has to, she added silently.

Torture darkened his amber eyes as they met hers. He drew her to him, and they tightly clung to each other for comfort.

“It’ll be all right, Duel. Marley’s a tough little girl.”

“She’s so small.” His lips bothered the hair at her temple, and when his voice broke, she felt a cold fist closing over her heart. “She trusted us to care for her. Maria trusted us, claimed she was better off with us. Ha!”

“I know.” Misery prevented her from saying more.

Doc Mabry raised from his bent stance over the child. “I’ve done all I can. The rest is in the good Lord’s hands. Take her home, cook some potatoes, mash them up, and roll them around a ball of cotton.”

The man paused to let that sink in. Then his stern stare over the spectacles perched on the end of his nose made her swallow dryly. “Here comes the hard part. You’ll have to force her to swallow them. However, if you make them small enough, they should slide down easily. The glass fragments’ll stick to the cotton, and she’ll pass them through.”

“You sure this’ll work, Doc?” Duel sounded unsure.

“It should. ’Course, we don’t know how much she swallowed.”

“What if we can’t get the potato balls down her?” Jessie could only imagine the difficulty they would have.

“It’ll help if you massage her windpipe. But you must use whatever means necessary to get her to swallow them. Even if you have to force them down her throat.”

Jessie’s long glance swept the still, fragile form. “How long will she be unconscious?”

“I hope only a day or two, though I really can’t say. It’s not up to me.” Doc put his shiny instruments away. “If I were you, I’d pray.”

* * *

“There, it took both of us, but we got some down her.” Duel couldn’t have been more tired than if he’d been in the saddle for a solid month. A lingering glance at his companion indicated a similar haggard appearance. Although he’d tried to relieve her mind, he knew Jessie blamed herself.

“Was it enough to help? I can’t see any change.” Her voice trembled. She smoothed Marley’s dark curls and choked back a sob. “I’ll never forgive myself if something—”

“It won’t. Marley Rose will be awake before you know it, chattering about Boobie and Cheeba.” He held Jessie to him tightly.

He loved Jess in a deeply satisfying way. It didn’t surprise him that she had shown a chink in her armor. He’d never known a woman with more grit and courage than Jessie. A fainthearted woman couldn’t have survived all those years with a monster.

Forcing a lighter tone, she remarked, “It’ll be daylight soon.”

Faint rays filtered through the window. “Yeah, I’ll have to feed the animals.”

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Not hungry. Just coffee.”

“I don’t think I could get anything down either.”

The weight of her head resting on his shoulder lent a companionable closeness. Neither had slept a wink all night.

His attention lit on an oddly bare lamp beside the chair. Strange that the globe was missing.

“Jess, did something happen to the lamp globe?”

She raised to look and suddenly clasped her hand over her mouth. “The globe! Yesterday, Vicky told me Henry had broken it. When I asked if they needed help sweeping it up, she said Henry was taking care of it.”

A few seconds later, he watched her kneel to look beneath the chair.

“I found it.”

“Damnation! Pushed it under the chair instead of sweeping it up. That’s a kid for you.”

“Evidently enough stuck out to draw Marley’s attention, and she crawled under after it. I remember her saying that something was pretty. Why didn’t I check to see if Henry had picked it up? Why didn’t I?”

“Not your fault, Jess.”

“Tell that to Marley Rose’s mother.”

He understood her anger. Hell, he’d carried enough self-recrimination around for the last four years to know. Still, it hadn’t done a lick of good except make him a bitter man. It’d taken a little girl and a branded woman to give him a reason to live.

He’d never known that something so small could make him feel that important. Or that he could get so gloriously happy over a simple grin. The tightness in his chest hurt. He felt a sob begin somewhere in the region of his heart.

What of Jessie? He watched her bustle about, sweeping up every last sliver of glass. By the time she finished, the floor’d be clean enough to eat off of.

Her redemption hinged on the same little girl and a field of sun-ripened sorghum. God, he wished he could make it mature faster. One thing he’d learned growing up with his brother: once Luke sank his teeth in something, he didn’t turn loose until he got what he wanted. He’d be back, no doubt about it. But would he give the sorghum time to ripen?

Lying in his arms, Marley moved her hand, opening and closing it.

“Jess! She moved.”