Chapter 16 #2

Mama and Papa, we have arrived at Golden Valley after a challenging ride.

I met a man. I let myself grow fond of him.

He seemed so noble and upright, but I learned it was his father who killed you.

And we get here to learn of a man shooting and killing three people.

It brought everything back to my mind. The shock of seeing you on the floor.

The agony of the trial. The—well, you know.

I’ve told you so many times. Mama, Papa, will I ever get over missing you?

She closed the book. Even as she closed her heart. She’d had quite enough of murders and pain.

Nash rented a room in the building that called itself a hotel.

He certainly wouldn’t let any woman he knew stay in the establishment.

The food was barely edible. Not that it mattered.

His appetite had vanished. Still, he downed a few mouthfuls before retiring to the room where he discovered a rumpled bed with unwashed sheets. He lay down fully clothed.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

It had taken every bit of self-control to calmly tie that man in the barn and to reason that he needed a trial.

Only the notion of hanging someone without due justice made it possible.

He didn’t care for being judged for something he had no part in.

Wait. Did he mean that man he’d helped tie up or himself?

He closed his eyes, admitting it was the latter.

Addie had judged him for who and what his father had been.

The racket below grew louder as the evening progressed. Too much strong drink had that effect. Of course, everyone was upset after what had happened. Three dead. Four injured, including that woman. And her child witness to her mother bleeding. His teeth creaked as he thought of it.

The noise rose and fell. Had they started to disperse? Except it seemed to have moved outdoors.

He pulled his hat over his eyes and tried to block out the sounds. Surely, they would tire soon and go home. Go to bed. Things would look better in the daylight. For all involved. Except perhaps the widow of the one victim.

Eventually, he fell asleep, whether or not because the noise ended or simply because he was exhausted from fighting his thoughts.

He woke the next morning and stared at the unfamiliar room. Right. He was in Golden Valley. He jumped from bed. Had the town taken upon itself the necessity of a trial for the man? With a start, he realized he didn’t even know his name.

His boots on, he clattered down the stairs. The chairs were turned over on the tables. Someone may or may not have swept the floor.

“Hello?” The only answer came from the rustling of rodents racing for cover.

Adjusting his hat, he stepped into the street. A man rushed past, turning away from Nash. Still offended by what he perceived to be Nash’s defense of the murderer. Nash continued down the street, passing businesses, most of which weren’t yet open, and made his way toward the livery barn.

He ground to a halt, unable, unwilling to believe his eyes.

From a rope secured above the loft door hung a limp body.

Nash blinked. Swallowed hard. Twice more and then raced onward.

Two men with eyes as hard as rocks stepped forward. “We tried him. Hung him for what he done. Fair and square.”

“Lot more than he deserved,” the second man added.

Nash leaned back on his heels. “It’s on your heads. Take the body down.”

“We done decided to leave it there long ’nough to serve as a warning to anyone who thinks they can do ta same thing.”

Nash met their hard glares with one of his own, then spun around and stalked off.

Some would see it as justice. It was out of his hands. He’d done what he could. Hadn’t let his anger rule his decisions.

He passed a house with a white cross painted over the door. This must be where the preacher lived. He’d let the man know what happened. Seemed fair, considering the preacher had defended the man’s right to a trial.

His knock echoed. Footsteps crossed to the door, and it opened to—

Addie!

He hadn’t expected to see her. Or had he secretly wished for it?

Admittedly, he did not want to leave town without some sort of agreement between them.

How would that look after his admission that he was Morton Sturm’s son dashed the friendship they’d enjoyed?

Words failed him. And then he blurted out what he wanted to say.

“Came to see the preacher.”

“He’s still in bed.” Her eyes revealed nothing. Perhaps because the rising sun almost blinded him.

She remained in the doorway. No invitation to enter. No sign of welcome.

“How are the woman and child?” He glanced past her shoulder.

“Mrs. Hammel has a flesh wound.” Addie’s expression hardened until her face was all sharp lines and dark shadows. “The wounds to their hearts are far more serious.”

Understanding what she meant, he nodded but could offer nothing in the way of encouragement. “Being here with you and the Stones will help those wounds.” Like Gib had helped Nash heal inside.

Addie crossed her arms, a signal of dismissal,. if he needed further evidence she wasn’t happy to see him. “Is there something more?” Her question shot out like a bullet.

“Maybe I’ll come back later.”

“I could relay any message you have.”

Would giving her the news make her see things from his side? “That man was hung last night.” He began to tip his head toward the barn, then stopped. No need for her to think she should look. It was a grisly sight.

She closed the door behind her and faced him. “Justice was served.” Cold, hard words. Condemnation.

“Shouldn’t a man be allowed to speak in his defense?” That man was guilty, but he meant something more. “A man shouldn’t be judged for something he didn’t do.” Would she see that he pled his own case?

She rubbed her lips together as if considering his words, then pursed those lips. “Who speaks on behalf of the innocent? Like that woman and child. Who defends them?”

“Even hanging can’t undo what’s done.”

“There is no justice for them.” Again, a tip of her head toward the door to indicate who she referred to.

“There are victims on both sides of the story.” If he hoped she’d understand he meant himself and offer—

“Nash, my name is Addison Lanier.”

“Lanier?” Why did that name seem familiar in a way that sent tension up and down his spine?

“That’s right. Your father killed my parents.”

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