October, 2013

Issue #49

Unfinished Business
by Nancy Peacock

Jack reined his horse at the edge of the clearing. He had veered off the trail to ride through the woods as a faint whiff of wood smoke had alerted him to the presence of people. He was too tired to get careless now. No sense riding directly into a mess if he could help it. He stretched a little taller in the stirrups to see over the scrub cedar that concealed him. Below was a cabin surrounded by oak trees, a barn, corral, kitchen garden and a field with the stubble of a corn crop. A good three acres were plowed, ready for a spring crop. His first thought was that someone had put in many hours of work to create such a place. Rock walls spoke of hard labor clearing the fields. There were a few boulders jutting out in awkward places. He remembered his father saying that some rocks might be the tips of mountains and should be left alone. He had plowed around a few of those in his youth.

A movement in front of the house caught his eye. A figure was leading a bay horse along. A tree blocked his view for a moment. When the figure emerged into the open, he saw that the horse was dragging something he couldn't identify. He exited the cover of the woods and let his horse amble toward the cabin. His rifle was loose in the scabbard; his revolver was in his hand. As he neared the barn, he saw three horses with saddles on them in the corral. He pulled up short and stared. These were the horses he had followed across miles of rugged terrain to arrest their owners for murder and arson. Why would any rider let his horse loose in a corral and leave the saddle on? Why not just tie it to the rail in front of the cabin? Were the men he wanted inside?

The only way to find out was to press on. Something was definitely wrong. He spurred his horse closer to the cabin, which caught the attention of the small woman leading the bay. She held a rifle awkwardly in one hand and the reins of the bay in the other. She looped the reins around her arm to free her hands, raised the rifle and held a steady bead on him.

He called, "Ma'am, I mean you no harm." He slipped the revolver into his pocket and held his hands high to show he had no firearm aimed at her. She never wavered. He took his eyes off her for a second and recoiled at the sight of what she was dragging. A man, face down, tied by the feet to a long rope. His shirt was bloody on the back.

Jack stepped down from his horse and stared. Without considering what the consequences might be, he said, "What on earth are you doing?"

The woman kept the rifle aimed at him, but seemed to relax a little. He went over to the dead man and rolled him over with the toe of his boot. Arnold Mayer stared sightlessly toward the sky. One less crook to trail.

"Ma'am, I'm a U.S. Marshall. I've been hunting this man and two of his partners for weeks." He took a wallet with his badge and identification in it and tried to hand it to her. She glanced at it, but didn't take it. It took two hands to aim the heavy rifle and she wasn't letting her guard down for a minute.

He tried again. "Are the other men here? Are they in the house? I know their horses are in the corral. Why didn't they take their saddles off?"

He never took his eyes off her face. Suddenly she gave a big sigh, shrugged and lowered the gun.

"Let's see your badge."

He handed her the wallet. She took a good look before handing it back. As if a dam broke, she began to talk. "They came up and threatened me. They wanted me to feed them and let them hide out here. My husband is . . . gone. I went into the bedroom to . . .  to . .  and got the gun and shot them while they sat at the table. I don't think they expected me to be able to shoot or be armed at all."

"Wait. You shot all of them. Where are they? What are you doing with Mayer here?"

She turned, took her horse's reins again and began to drag the grisly burden toward a huge boulder that edged the clearing. He followed, leading his horse behind the body. On the far side of the boulder was a shallow grave with two bodies already in it. She led the shying horse beside the grave until the body was close to the opening.

Jack said, "Wait. Let me see who they are. I need some identification if they have any." He carefully stepped into the hole and looked at the dead men. Before he could check their pockets, she said, "I took what they had in their pockets. It's up at the house. I'll give it to you when I'm through."

He helped her roll the third man into the hole, took the shovel she had leaning against the boulder and filled in the loose soil. The grave wasn't deep enough to keep predators out, so he carried loose rocks from the slope above and covered the grave site. She helped find rocks though he could tell she was exhausted.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Jack Delancey. Who are you?"

"I'm Lily Reynolds. I thank you for your help. I knew I had to get these bodies underground soon. I wanted them . . . out of sight."

"I understand." He took the reins of her horse and his and let her lead the way back to the cabin. "Why are the horses in the corral saddled?"

"They tied them to the rail. I didn't take time to unsaddle them after I shot the men. I couldn't just turn them loose."

"Let's go inside. We can talk about this after you rest. May I put my horse in your corral now? He's as tired as I am."

She must have realized how weary she was. She blinked as she considered his request. She could hardly turn him away after all his help.

"That's fine. There's hay for him. I'll . . . be inside."

Jack led both horses to the barn, unsaddled his, rubbed him down a bit and forked some hay into a manger. He didn't turn him out into the corral with the other horses. He might need to catch him quickly. He hoped not. He unclipped the bridle from her horse and put a halter on it. As he turned to the hay mow, he stumbled over a saddle thrown down in the middle of the barn. Automatically he picked it up and positioned it over the gate to a stall. Who would throw a saddle down like that? He took an armload of hay to the corral. The saddled horses came to the treat. He grabbed their trailing reins as they bent to eat and relieved them of their saddles and bridles. No rubdown for these beasts.

He staggered wearily as he walked to the cabin carrying his bedroll and pack. His quest was over at last. What an unexpected way for it to end. What should he do now? As he stepped up on the porch he knew for sure he had to rest before he made any decisions. He dropped the bedroll and pack on the porch.

Lily had made a pot of coffee and put a loaf of bread and a jar of preserves on a counter beside the stove. She was sitting in a rocker with her back to him when he knocked gently and entered. He gasped as she stood and faced him. She held a tiny baby in her arms. Her look dared him to comment.

"Careful where you walk or sit. I didn't take time to clean up the mess. I doubt that blood will come up easy in any case. There's bread and jelly there. Help yourself if you're hungry." She felt with one hand for the rocker and lowered herself in it. She put the baby on her shoulder and gently patted its back.

Jack stood in the doorway, hat and rifle in hand, trying to take all this in. He eased over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. He cut a slice of bread, found a spoon in a holder in the middle of the table and put a little jam on the bread. Leaning against the counter he ate hungrily. Lily took the baby into the other room. He moved so he could see where she went. A cradle was beside the bed and she was rocking it a little to ease the tiny baby back to sleep.

"Ma'am, I'll help you clean up after awhile. Why don't you rest now? That blood is as dry as it's likely to get."

Lily stared at him, gave him a tiny smile and lay back on the bed. "Good idea. I couldn't scrub now if my life depended on it." She was asleep before he could answer.

The blood on the table disgusted him. He found a scrubbing rag and quickly removed all he could from the table top. He would deal with the floor later. He sat down at the table with his cup of coffee in his hand. His head drooped lower, rested on his arm and he slept.

It was long after dark when the whimpering baby woke Lily and Jack. He sat up and tried to figure where he was. She felt her way from the bedroom and lit a lamp. She went back for the baby. Again she sat in the rocker and fed it. She frowned at him, "Never seen anyone nurse an infant?"

"Not since my wife nursed our son. Sorry if I offend you." He stood and found the wood box, added a few sticks to the stove and pushed the coffeepot onto an eye. His gaze kept returning to the little figure humming to her baby. "Tell me again how you managed to shoot three men. Weren't they armed?"

"Of course they were armed. I guess they were too surprised to shoot back. By the time they figured out where the shots were coming from they were dead. I'm a good shot." Now the words just tumbled out. "I thought about just wounding them, but then what? I could scarcely herd them to town, carrying my baby. They made it plain what they had in mind for me. I knew my child would die and I would, too. I saw the extra horse they brought with them."

"What do you mean? Is there another horse around here loose?"

"No. We only have the one saddle horse. I was using her to drag the bodies. I reckon they met my husband somewhere along the trail to town." With a strangled sob she said, "I don't expect him to come back." Jack stared at her. So it was her husband he had buried. No papers on him, no horse in sight, a single gunshot wound to the back. She read his face like he had spoken. "You found him, didn't you? Do I need to go bury him now?" She suddenly crumpled up and sobbed. "I dared hope . . . What a fool I am!"

He had never felt so useless. "I buried him under a big oak off the trail. I'm sorry. I'll take you there if you want. I put a cross to mark the spot and piled rocks like we did for the others."

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she stood, handed him the baby and began to assemble a meal. He was amazed. He hadn't held a baby in years, but old skills weren't forgotten. He looked down into a beautiful little face framed with wisps of dark hair. The baby gazed back at him and sucked its fist.

"What's his name?"

"Margaret's his name. You don't think a boy would be that pretty, do you?"

He chuckled. "Margaret, you have an extraordinary mother. I hope you grow up knowing she saved your life."

"Jack, why are you here? How long have you been chasing these men?"

"Seems like forever. They were murderers and arsonists. There's a big bounty on their heads. When you can ride, we need to go to town and wire the proper people to collect the money."

"You think I want money for what I did?" She turned to him, rubbing the tears off her cheeks. "You think I'd accept money for killing those monsters?"

Jack looked her straight in the eye. "You'd be a fool to refuse it. You could hire someone to help you here. I can see how much work you and your husband have put into this place. The money is yours."

Jack waited a week before riding with Lily and Margaret to town. In the intervening time, he helped scrub the blood stains off the floor, shot a few squirrels for meals and generally made himself useful. He slept on a pallet in the barn. The week gave him time to come to some painful decisions. His quest was over. He could go on with his life.

"What do you want to do with the crooks' horses, Lily? They're yours, I guess."

"Do you think I might sell them? I don't need three more horses eating me out of house and home."

"Sure, let's try to sell them. We can lead them to town when we go next week."

"Then what?"

He played dumb. "What do you mean?"

"What am I supposed to do after next week? You know I can't keep this place going by myself. I lay awake nights wondering what I'm going to do. Joe and I have no family back East. I'm sure you have family to get back to. And your job. Where will you go next?"

"Is Margaret asleep? Let's sit out here on the porch and I'll tell you a story."

They sat on the edge of the porch, legs dangling, eyes on the hills in the distance. "I was after those men as part of my job, but I took the job for a different reason. You see, Lily, they killed my wife and child and set my house on fire while I was away for the day. I came home to smoking rubble.

"Neighbors had seen the smoke. They could name the men responsible. I went to the Marshall's office in Denver and took a job on the understanding I would try to track these men down first. They'd left a wide swath of misery on their way, so following them wasn't all that hard. I was just hours from them when I came here. You had done my job for me. I'm sorry you had to kill three men, yet I'm pleased they're gone." He looked down at his hands. "I had no intention of arresting them."

Lily sat listening, shivering a little at the implications of his words. So that was why he was comfortable with a baby, why he was so handy around her farm.

She said, "We can go to town soon. I'll decide what to do before I get there."

They made a strange sight as they rode down the dusty street. Townspeople stopped in their tracks and gaped. He rode in front, carrying a baby, leading a saddled horse. She rode behind, leading two more saddled horses. The entourage stopped in front of the sheriff's office and tied all the horses to the rail. He handed her the baby and together they went into the office.

The sheriff said, "Your papers look real, Mr. Delancey. These other papers are for three wanted men. Tell me where you got them."

It took an hour to get the story told. The sheriff was skeptical at first. "I talked to your husband when he was in town over a week ago. You say he's dead? Did this man kill him?"

They took him through the story again. He just sat and shook his head. Jack stood finally and said he had some telegrams to send. He handed the baby to Lily and went to the railway station. When he returned he found Lily just exiting the sheriff's office.

"Did you find the telegraph office?"

"Sure. Now what?"

"Let's go eat and I'll feed Margaret. The sheriff finally believed I killed those men. I'm surprised he didn't arrest me for murder."

"Now, calm down. The sheriff will probably send a few wires himself and check out my credentials. He had wanted posters on his wall for all three men. When he settles down I'll go talk to him again. In the meantime, I'm going to put the horses in the livery stable and tell anyone who'll listen that they're for sale with all their tack. I should hear about the rewards by tomorrow. The papers we took off the men identify them, so that should be no problem. By day after tomorrow you can go back to your home, knowing you have a nest egg in the bank."

"What will you do, Jack? Will we ever see you again?"

"First I'll find someone who'll help you keep your place going. Then I'll go back home and settle my estate—what there's left of it. I should be back here in less than a year. If you haven't had any better offers, I'll talk you into marrying me and we'll raise Margaret together. How does that sound?"

Lily raised a tearful face to meet his eyes. "That sounds like a long time to wait, but it would be best, I guess. God go with you, Jack. Come back to me. Our grieving time will be over by then and we can make a good life together."