Chapter 27 #3
Clint had told them what he planned to do, and why, and advised the others to move on. Their job was over. There was no reason to risk being somehow identified with the band of outlaws. There was nothing more they would do.
Ben had been carving an animal out of a block of wood, and he looked up.
“You said that lawman is demanding to know who helped the captain, and he’s not saying.
We all know he won’t, that he would go to prison again first. Something ain’t right about that.
We all knew what we were getting into, and he’s not taking the blame alone. I’m going with you.”
One by one the others agreed.…
Russ was at the corral, unsaddling his horse, when Clint and the others rode in. He walked over to Clint, took one look at his grim face, and then he saw the man next to him, a man who was a younger version of Clint, except the eyes were harder. The expression was just as grim.
Russ sighed, knowing he probably wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.
Clint didn’t mince words. “You wanted to know who was riding with Rafe Tyler. We were.”
“The governor’s here!”
The announcement, made by Michael who had just ridden in ahead of the governor’s party, stunned those sitting around the kitchen table.
Rafe and Jack Randall had been allowed downstairs for supper.
Both were told that Russ had sent information to Denver, to the territorial governor, and was waiting for an answer.
Russ didn’t want to take his prisoners through the adjoining jurisdiction where they might well be stopped by Quarles, and he had asked for a U.S.
marshal, whose authority would supersede both his and Quarles’s.
Shea had also been invited to supper by Kate, along with Clint.
Shea had moved back to the Circle R to try to keep the ranch going with Clint, the loyal foreman, Nate, and three other remaining hands.
To Rafe she had looked devastatingly pretty in a green dress, though her eyes were tired, as if she had not been sleeping well.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes from her. Neither had her father.
But now their eyes turned toward the door as Russ Dewayne quickly rose and went to greet his unexpected guest.
Governor William Tate was a tall, robust man who apparently enjoyed making entrances. He came in like a tornado, robust and smiling, followed by a lanky man with a marshal’s star pinned on a leather vest.
“Kate, just as pretty as ever,” he said, heading for her and bending over her as she quickly rose to her feet, along with the men. “And who is this lovely lady?”
“Shea Randall,” Kate said with a smile.
The governor turned toward Jack Randall, and his smile faded slightly. “Can’t say I wasn’t shocked at what Russ here had to say,” he said. “Couldn’t believe it of you.”
Randall’s face flushed.
But the governor didn’t give him an opportunity to say anything. He turned toward the other two men he didn’t know, Rafe Tyler and Clint Edwards.
“Which one of you is Tyler?”
“I am,” Rafe said.
“Hell of a thing that happened. But I have some good news for you. We’ll talk about it after dinner. I’m hungry as a bear just coming out of hibernation. You got two more plates, Russ? You know Marshal Kettler, don’t you? Evan Kettler?”
Russ smiled. “Hell, yes. Take a seat next to Clint Edwards here.”
“Edwards,” the governor acknowledged, and looked at Russ for more identifying information.
Russ gave it to him. “He and five others just confessed to being Tyler’s gang,” he said with bemusement. “I’ve never heard so damn many confessions in my life.” He paused for a moment, then added, “My daughter also tells me he’s to be my son-in-law.”
The governor arched his eyebrows. “I gather this is going to be an interesting evening,” he said as he sat down and, for the rest of the evening, dominated the table and the conversation, ignoring the rising tension of those at the table and the fact that no one else, other than Russ and the marshal, appeared to have any appetite.
“I didn’t expect you to come all this way, Governor,” Russ said. “I just wanted a marshal.”
“Too intriguing not to,” the governor said.
“Made some inquiries after I got your information. Have some friends in the military. If what you say is true, they’re going to be mighty embarrassed.
” He said it with glee, as if nothing would make him happier.
“And it’s been too damn long since you and I played poker. ”
All his joviality, however, disappeared an hour later when he met alone with Russ and Marshal Kettler.
“I wanted to get this all settled,” he said, “before the newspapers get wind of it. They would have a field day. I want to do what we can quietly. The army doesn’t want news of this getting out, and we can accomplish more with their cooperation.
But I need Tyler’s cooperation. If he doesn’t demand a pound of flesh from the army, I’ve been promised that they’ll quietly reverse the findings of the court-martial and give Captain Tyler ten years of back pay.
He will be completely cleared. It will end there.
Otherwise, it could take years, with a number of noses bloodied. ”
Russ stared straight ahead. “I don’t know if that’s enough. It wouldn’t be for me.”
“But you aren’t in love with Randall’s daughter,” the governor said. Then added as he saw the surprise on Russ’s face, “Hell, I have eyes, Russ.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do,” Russ said quietly. “But I’d think he’d do almost anything to protect Shea Randall and those friends of his.”
“And you would too, I imagine,” the governor probed.
Russ hesitated. “I was angry as hell at first when Clint came to me. I felt betrayed, but then I thought about Tyler, and I was damned glad after what he went through that he had friends like Clint. I can’t say I approve of what Clint did, or Tyler, but their loyalty to each other says a hell of a lot about them. ”
The governor chuckled ruefully. “Men to have as friends but not enemies.”
“As Jack discovered,” Russ said.
“At least he came forward now. That took some guts,” the governor said carefully.
“But I can’t save him. I can help if he pleads guilty as an accomplice in these murders, but that’s all I can do.
I can pardon Tyler; God knows he’s already spent ten years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
I can take that in account for this last … transgression.”
“And the others?” Russ asked the question carefully. Kate’s future depended on the answer.
“No one’s been harmed. If the money’s being returned, I think I can negotiate a little deal with the express office as long as the damages are paid.
Casey Springs, after all, is trying to become an economic power in this area.
Won’t help the city none if there’s word of lynch-mob activities. A small bit of blackmail.”
“And Quarles?”
“He’s appointed by the town council. I can exert a little influence there, too.”
“And what can I do for you?” Russ smiled.
“A poker game, right after I have a little chat with Mr. Tyler,” he said. “And,” he added, “you can lose.”
Rafe took Shea home. It was a strange word for her. It was a stranger one for him.
So was something called hope. For the first time in years he dared to dream again.
But a residue of sadness remained. He never thought it possible, but he’d felt regret when he’d left Jack Randall. Randall would be going to Denver the next day and would face a prison sentence, possibly a long one.
Rafe felt none of the satisfaction he once thought he would.
They were silent as they rode in the buggy Kate had insisted they take. Shea, however, had moved close to him, and sometime during the ride, his arm went around her. He was damned glad the horses were tame, for his left arm still hurt and lacked any strength.
The moon was nearly full now. Gold and bright, rather than pale and delicate-looking. There were enough stars to light the world, he thought, and they seemed to have a special glow tonight, lighting a future that was so promising, it hurt.
Rafe would never forget that brief meeting in Russ’s office, the one in which he had been handed the sun and moon and admonished not to waste them.
His name would be cleared. He would be pardoned for the most recent offenses.
His companions wouldn’t be charged. And Clint was being welcomed into the Dewayne family.
Randall had been right about Russ Dewayne.
It had been made clear he could make a home here in the valley, and he would have Dewayne’s friendship and support.
It had been almost too much to accept. It had surprised him as much as Dewayne and the governor when he had pleaded for Jack Randall’s future as well, but there had been no give on that issue.
Shea had spent an hour with her father, alone, and when she joined Rafe, she had a kind of peace in her eyes, but also a question. “He told me he wants you to take care of the Circle R,” she said. “Is that … possible?”
She was thinking about him again, as she always seemed to do. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I … like Colorado,” she said. “I met you here … and I …”
He could give her this. Because she had given him so much. He could give her her father’s heritage: a home. Until her father returned, and then there would be another decision to make.
And so now they were on their way to the Circle R.
Home. It was odd. Difficult to comprehend. He’d never had a home, not since he was six years old. And now … Jack Randall had given him one.
But he still had some reservations. He had to make sure that Shea knew what she was doing. That those days in his valley hadn’t been a mistake, nothing more than emotions heightened by danger. He wanted to court her, as an ordinary man courted an extraordinary woman, not as a bandit took a hostage.
He would stay in the bunkhouse, no matter how difficult it would be.
Freedom had responsibilities. He had been so consumed by anger, he hadn’t realized that until now.
They arrived at the Circle R. There was a light in the bunkhouse.
Nate was probably there. Nate and the few ranch hands.
Both he and Shea had already agreed that those loyal few would be paid tomorrow, paid extra for their loyalty, and then the Circle R would have to hire more hands.
Clint would join them, at least for a while.
And Rafe knew of five other men. Extraordinary men.
His hand took Shea’s, and he helped her down. Her fingers tightened around his as he walked her to the house. He wanted her so damned bad. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, make love to her. He craved it, but he also convinced himself she needed time.
They reached the porch, and he leaned down and kissed her lightly, keeping himself from grabbing her and kissing her the way he wanted to. He started to move away, but her hand held him.
“Don’t go,” she said. “Please don’t go.”
“I want to give you time.”
“I don’t need time. I need you. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. Don’t you know that yet?”
“You should have everything,” he whispered. “Everything that comes with courtship. Roses and trinkets and parties.”
“I like short courtships. And I don’t care about roses and trinkets and parties.”
He closed his eyes and bent over, letting his lips play over hers, feeling the softness, the welcome, the invitation.
“I want you to be sure,” he said painfully, his body straining toward her. After the loneliness of the past ten years, the uncertainty of the past few days, he needed her warmth, that total faith she had in him. The faith that had been so lacking in himself.
Shea smiled, a smile made so lovely in the moonlight. Luminous. Luminous and sure. And so full of love. “I am so very sure,” she whispered. “Come in with me. I need you so much.”
There was something to be said, he thought as he reached down and picked her up, for a very, very short courtship.
And a home, his first home, after all, was waiting.