Chapter 57
A JOLT OF FEAR SURGED THROUGH HER, and Josephine struggled to sit up, fighting the irrational, futile urge to run. Calla, who’d been working near the hearth, quickly moved to stand in front of her.
“Miss Dunham—” Sheriff Rigby stepped across the threshold, a deputy with him. “I have a few questions I need to—”
Miss Mary blocked his way. “Hold on there, Sheriff. Josephine is in no condition to answer any questions right now. She’s been through a terrible ordeal tonight and needs to rest.”
“Oh, I know what she’s been through. I’ve already spoken with Clay Darden, the man she tried to kill in Atlanta—and then again tonight.”
“I did not try to kill him. He attacked me!”
The sheriff pushed past Miss Mary. “What happened in that alley in Atlanta is not for the two of us to debate, ma’am.
You can do that when you appear back there before the judge.
” He nodded at his deputy who pulled handcuffs from his back pocket.
“Miss Josephine Dunham,” the sheriff continued, “you’re under arrest by order of the State of Georgia for the crime of attempted murder.
Don’t give us any trouble, ma’am, and maybe we won’t have to—”
“Don’t you go near her, Rigby!” Dodge shoved past the deputy, and Mr. Daniel came in behind him.
Mr. Daniel’s gaze connected with Josephine’s and, in a glance, she knew Dodge had told him everything.
“Rigby, you’re not taking her anywhere.” Dodge positioned himself between her and the sheriff. “Clay Darden brutally attacked her tonight in the stillhouse, and he will answer for what he’s done.”
“Coburn, I am sheriff of this town and you’ll do well to remember that.
Besides, Clay Darden is the son of the mayor of Atlanta, and I’m inclined to believe him over some wool-gatherin’ woman who’s already proven her word can’t be trusted.
The fact that she’s involved with a band of hysterical females back in Atlanta already puts her mental stability into question.
Furthermore, according to witnesses who saw you and Miss Dunham earlier tonight, you’re not what I would call an unbiased party when it comes to this woman. ”
Dodge made a move toward him, and Sheriff Rigby’s hand went to the gun at his waist.
“Gentlemen, please . . .” Miss Mary stepped between them.
“Let’s everyone take a deep breath. Sheriff Rigby—Virgil.
Have you considered that this Clay Darden character could just be spinning a tale to cover his own hide?
After all, like you said, his father is the mayor of Atlanta, and this young Darden knows that if his heinous actions came to light, he’d face swift justice.
Not to mention the shame it would bring to his family. You have to see that.”
“Heinous still needs to be proven—Mary. But yes, I do see that. Just as I see that this young woman has been deceiving you from the very start. Here in your own home. Telling you she was married and running from a husband who’d beaten her. Am I right on that count?”
Seeing the struggle in Miss Mary’s hard stare, with a look, Josephine encouraged her to answer. At the same time, Dodge looked back, and only then did Josephine see the small bottle in his hand. She wished the laudanum were already in her.
“While it’s true, Sheriff,” Miss Mary began slowly, “that she wasn’t fully forthcoming about her situation at first, I think—”
“Here’s how it is,” Sheriff Rigby cut in, his voice rising. “Miss Dunham is wanted in Georgia for attempted murder, so I’m taking her back to Atlanta to stand trial. I made a promise to the citizens of Lynchburg to uphold the law, and—”
“Uphold the law?” Dodge gave a brittle laugh. “You’re doing this for the reward money, aren’t you, Rigby.”
“That’s Sheriff Rigby, and I don’t know what you’re talking about, Coburn.”
But the telling look the deputy slid the sheriff confirmed it. The anger in Dodge’s expression told her he’d seen it too, and she felt the remaining strength drain from her body.
“Sheriff Rigby, a question or two, if I may.” Mr. Daniel’s voice held surprising control.
“Have you actually laid eyes on that warrant? And don’t you need it before hauling this young woman back to Atlanta?
Word is, this Clay Darden fellow was severely burned.
How can you even trust the claims of a man whose mind is surely so addled by pain? ”
“Well, Uncle Jack . . . Fact is, I don’t have the warrant in hand.
And I haven’t seen it yet either. But ever since I met this woman, my gut’s told me she’s lying about something.
But what’s convinced me even more that my gut is right—” A slow smile curved his mouth.
“Is that not a one of you has challenged me on calling her Miss Dunham.” His stare moved to Josephine. “Not even you, ma’am.”
Jarred by his admission—and her own lack of awareness—Josephine felt her last thread of hope snap clean in two.
“So while I may not have that warrant in hand, under the authority of law, I do have the right, Miss Dunham, to take you into custody and hold you for up to seventy-two hours, time to get confirmation of that warrant. Which I’m betting I’ll get from Atlanta in record time.”
“Excuse me, for interrupting—”
All eyes turned to see Doc Wyatt standing in the doorway. How long he’d been there, Josephine couldn’t tell. But the way his gaze moved around the room before quickly settling on her, told her long enough.
“I’m here to see my patient. She needs medical attention, and I need to do a thorough examination. Also, I should tell you . . . Clay Darden just died.”
Josephine’s eyes fluttered closed, relief and dread welling up inside her.
“Well, seems that arrest warrant just got a little weightier.” Sheriff Rigby gestured. “Doc, you got ten minutes.”
“Sheriff, I have whatever time I need to tend my patient. You and your deputy—and your promise to uphold the law—can just wait outside until I’m finished.”
Begrudgingly, Sheriff Rigby and his deputy left the room, and Calla closed the door firmly behind them.
Dodge knelt by the bed. “Josephine, I will not let him take you back there to stand trial. I’ll—”
“Dodge . . .” Doc Wyatt laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Let me see to her first. You and Mr. Daniel need to step outside as well.”
A short while later, Doc Wyatt straightened.
Calla helped situate her nightgown while Miss Mary pulled up the covers.
“Your lower lumbar is already showing signs of contusion, Miss Dunham. Deep bruising,” he added quickly.
“Same for your arms. Thankfully, I detect no damage to your kidneys or spine. Which, frankly, surprises me, considering how quickly the bruises are turning. You’ll be very sore for a few days.
Standing or sitting for long hours will be painful for the next week or so.
But you’re young and strong, and should make a full recovery.
” He paused. “And I am thankful to God that the injury I suspected earlier did not occur.”
Tears rose to her eyes, and she nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”
Surprisingly, emotion rose in his eyes as well. “This world is not a just place,” he said softly. “And though I did everything within my power to save that man’s life just now, I will admit, if only in this room, I am grateful my efforts failed.”
“Amen,” Miss Mary whispered behind him.
“Now with your permission,” he continued. “I will share your condition with Dodge and Uncle Jack, then will do my best to impress upon the sheriff that gentleness be mandated.”
Once he left the room, Josephine managed to sit up with help, the laudanum already taking effect. The poultice he’d applied to her palm before bandaging it was working to ease the fiery pain.
“This ain’t right,” Calla said, removing a fresh skirt and blouse from the hook by Josephine’s bed.
Miss Mary’s jaw tightened. “Not right at all. But I can’t think of a thing to do to stop it.”
Not until after Josephine was almost dressed did she notice that the skirt and blouse Calla had chosen were the ones she’d worn the day she’d fled Atlanta. But she said nothing. Somehow it seemed fitting.
As she glanced in the mirror at her reflection, she felt like she was looking at the same woman who had arrived here scarcely a month earlier.
A darkening bruise on her lower jaw, fear and pain in her eyes, and the lingering traces of Clay Darden’s first attack.
And yet she felt different inside. This place, these people, had changed her. Forever.
Though she couldn’t quite define it, she felt somehow less .
. . estranged from God. Like the formidable wall erected between them was somehow less so.
More lathe and plaster now than stone and mortar.
If only the Almighty would see fit to give her one of those nudges Todd had told her about. Then again, she wasn’t Todd.
“Is this your doll here on the windowsill?” Miss Mary asked.
Josephine glanced back. “No, it’s something I found on the way here. I don’t need it.”
Miss Mary held it for a second, then put it back.
In the darkened walkway outside the cabin, the warm night air carried the faint scent of smoke. Near the stairs leading to the upper deck, Dodge and Mr. Daniel waited. As did Sheriff Rigby and the deputy.
The deputy eagerly stepped forward, handcuffs open.
“Oh, no.” Calla held out a hand. “You can put them things away right now, son. That’s not happening, you hear me?”
Calla stared him down until the sheriff finally nodded. The deputy backed away.
“Sheriff Rigby—” Mr. Daniel’s tone held conciliation. “Dodge and I would like to accompany you as you escort Miss Dunham to the jail, if we may.”
“Just stay out of my way. You make trouble—” His focus went to Dodge. “I’ll make trouble back.”
Miss Mary hugged her first, then Calla, and both times she didn’t want to let go. “Thank you both,” she whispered, “for opening your hearts to me. And your home.”
She attempted to keep pace with Sheriff Rigby and his deputy, but couldn’t. Her lower back ached, and she broke out in a sweat. Finally, to their credit, they slowed down. The jail came into view, and it all felt like a horrible dream.
“May I have a moment with Miss Dunham?” Dodge asked when they were nearly to the door.
“You may not.” Sheriff Rigby took her by the arm and urged her forward. “And try to come in? I’ll arrest you. Don’t believe me, just ask Mr. Daniel.”
Right before the door closed, its hinges creaking in protest, Josephine looked back. Though darkness hid Dodge’s face, his stance bristled with defiance.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he called out. “I’ll be here at sunup.”
And she believed him, even knowing it wouldn’t change her fate.
Later, curled on her side atop the foul-smelling, threadbare mattress in the cold, stone cell, her palm and lower back aching, she realized Mayor Darden’s justice hadn’t merely found her. It had won.