Come the Spring (20 page)

Daniel ran out the doorway just as Grace came hurrying down the boardwalk. He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her inside the office.

“What in God's name are you doing out of bed?”

His concern for her well-being was evident in his expression. He thought she looked like the walking dead, and he fully expected her to faint at any moment. The left side of her face was still slightly swollen. Daniel wanted to pick her up and carry her back to the hotel. He pulled her to his side and looked out at the street beyond. Sloan was lounging against the hitching post.

“I had to see you,” she explained. “The sheriff was eating his breakfast in the dining room, so I slipped out the side door.”

“I saw her going down the steps out of the corner of my eye,” Sloan interjected. “I had to leave a full plate of food to chase after her.”

Grace was trying to hold on to her patience. “Daniel, I must speak to you. I'm sorry if it isn't convenient, but it's terribly important. She looked around the office and then asked, “Isn't Jessica here yet? You did tell us to be here this morning.”

“York walked her over to Dr. Lawrence's house to look in on Tilly,” Sloan said. “She took the boy with her.”

“What in thunder are you women thinking?” Cole snapped. “Three potential witnesses strolling around town without a care in the world. It's enough to make the saints scream. I'm going over to Lawrence's house and take Jessica back to the hotel.” He glared at Sloan when he added, “And if I have to drag her, by God I will.”

The sheriff backed out of Cole's way and watched him cross the street. Daniel slammed the door in Sloan's face then, giving Grace privacy for their talk.

“Why is Cole so upset?”

“He's upset because you and Rebecca and Jessica are making it impossible for us to protect you.”

“You don't think in broad daylight that someone might try…”

He interrupted her. “I'm taking you back to the hotel.”

“No,” she insisted. “I need to tell you something. It's important, Daniel.”

She tried to make herself let go of his hand, since she felt it was a sign of weakness for her to cling to the lawman, but she couldn't pull away. She was so scared, she could barely gather her thoughts. What she was about to do was going to change her future irrevocably, and all of her dreams were going to be crushed. There wasn't any other choice, though. She had to do the right thing.

He gave in. “All right, Grace. What did you want to tell me?”

“I'm your witness,” she blurted out. “I was the one hiding in the kneehole.”

Aside from the muscle in his clenched jaw twitching, Daniel didn't show any reaction to her announcement.

“You're the witness?” he demanded.

“Yes. I'm so sorry I didn't have the courage to come forward sooner, but I was frightened. Jessica and Rebecca had already left the bank. They were telling you the truth. I wasn't, and now I've caused them all sorts of trouble. You'll let them leave now, won't you?”

Daniel didn't answer her. His gut was telling him she was lying. The longer he stood there the angrier he became.

“How many were there?”

Without a pause, she answered, “Seven.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Daniel suddenly had the urge to comfort her and shake her at the same time. He didn't give in to either inclination. “All
right, I'm taking you back to the hotel, and you can tell me everything.”

“But I'm worried about Jessica and Rebecca,” she cried. “I believe I've found a way to make certain that they'll be left alone.”

Daniel guessed what was coming and let out a loud groan. “Ah, hell, you didn't talk to the reporter, did you?”

The question surprised her, for she had only just come up with the idea. “No, but I want to,” she said. “I thought I would go to the newspaper office and ask the gentleman there to print the truth in tomorrow's paper. I'm sure the reporter will be happy to listen to what I have to say.”

“You are not going to talk to the reporter.” He snapped the command and squeezed her hand to let her know he meant what he said.

She was stunned by his burst of anger. He was furious, she realized, for his blue eyes had turned as cold as winter. She bowed her head. “I thought you would be pleased with my confession. I don't understand your anger, Daniel.”

He took a deep breath. “Grace,” he began. “Are you telling the truth?”

She jerked her hand away from his and tried to get around him. “There's something else you should know.”

“Yes?” Daniel asked.

“The fire … it wasn't an accident,” she blurted out. “I remember what happened, and I remember … apples.”

“Apples?” he repeated, clearly not understanding.

She nodded. “I was having trouble sleeping. That isn't unusual,” she thought to add. “I never sleep through the night. I thought I heard a peculiar noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like glasses tinkling.”

“I don't understand.”

“You know … when you toast someone and your glass clinks against another glass … It was that sound that I thought I heard.”

“So what did you do?”

“Tilly wasn't feeling very well, and I didn't want to disturb her, so I put on my robe and my slippers and went downstairs to investigate. If someone was knocking on the front door, I wasn't going to open it, of course. I was going to tell whoever it was to come back in the morning. When I reached the foyer, I noticed the dining room window was wide open. The wind was making the curtains billow into the room. I became alarmed because I remembered closing it before I went up to bed, and I was the last one to go up the stairs.”

“What did you do then?” Daniel asked.

“I went into the dining room to shut the window, and that's when I smelled coal oil.”

“You mean kerosene?”

“Yes, kerosene,” she answered. “I put my hand on the windowsill and it was covered with oil. It was as though someone had only just poured it there.”

“And then what happened?”

“Tilly had placed a basket of apples on the kitchen table after supper. One of her daughters had given them to her.”

“What do apples have to do with the fire?”

“I could smell apples. I know it sounds crazy, but I think someone was eating one. I wanted to run upstairs and wake Jessica and Tilly, but I was suddenly afraid to move. I could feel the breeze on my arms from the swinging door that connects the kitchen with the dining room, and I heard the squeak the hinges make. I knew someone was rushing toward me. I could feel him coming. I turned and started to scream, but I don't know if I made a sound or not.”

“That's when you were struck, wasn't it?”

“I don't remember being hit. I just remember turning, and then you were leaning over me, Daniel, and I was outside … in the grass. If Jessica hadn't found me and dragged me out, I would have died in the fire.

“I'm your witness,” she whispered once again. “I don't want them to hurt Jessica or Rebecca. They're innocent.”

Daniel couldn't resist touching her. He reached out to wipe away a tear from her cheek. “You're also innocent, Grace.”

They stared into one another's eyes for a long minute. Daniel was overwhelmed with the desire to keep her safe. He had failed with his wife and his daughter because he hadn't been there to protect them. He decided then and there that he wouldn't let Grace out of his sight. Anyone who tried to harm her would have to go through him first.

“Daniel, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You look terribly … angry.”

“I don't want anything to happen to you, Grace.”

He was gripping her shoulders, his hold fierce, protective. He was hurting her, but she knew if she told him so, he'd feel terrible. She gently pulled his hands away and held on to them. “Nothing's going to happen to me.”

“I'm going to protect you.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed. “And I must protect Jessica and Caleb.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked.

“She risked her life for me,” she answered.

“What about Rebecca? Do you feel responsible for her too?”

“In a sense I do. She's been so kind and thoughtful.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I'm taking you home, Miss Winthrop. No, that isn't right,” he teased. “It's Lady Winthrop, isn't it?”

“No, Daniel, it's Grace. Just plain old Grace.”

“Ah, Grace. There's nothing plain about you. Nothing at all.”

Twenty
 

The baby was in his line of fire. He wanted to kill the boy first, but he wouldn't give in to the inclination because the mother would have time to run for cover, and she was his primary target. It was imperative that she die. There was a deputy walking by her side who was fully armed, watchful, and who just might get off a lucky shot of his own if he was given the chance.

Mr. Johnson shifted his position on his belly, determined to wait until all three of them were crossing the street. From his perch on the roof above the general store, he had a nice clear view of the road below, and with his Winchester, he wouldn't miss.
Patience,
he told himself as he felt the surge of excitement rush through him. The guard first, then the woman, then the boy. One, two, three, as easy as can be.

Anticipation made him giddy. The thrill he felt before a kill was as good as being with a woman. No, it was better than that, he thought. Much better.

They were taking their time, strolling along the
boardwalk, stupidly ignorant and blissfully unaware that they had only seconds left to live. Their executioner giggled like a young boy while he waited to seize the opportunity.

Jessica argued with the guard about their destination. She wanted to walk over to the jail, but York was determined to take her back to the hotel. The dour-faced deputy Sloan had hired was a rather plain man with only one vanity, his handlebar mustache. The long black hairs on his upper lip curled out and up over the sides of his nose. The pomade he'd used stiffened and starched each hair, so that when he talked, his mustache didn't move at all.

Jessica took hold of Caleb's hand as she stepped off the boardwalk. York had hold of her elbow and was trying to guide her across. There wasn't any traffic on the road behind the physician's house, for it dead-ended at the stable around the curve. When Caleb wanted to run ahead, she made certain it was safe for him to do so and then let go of him.

Cole had just turned the corner and was striding down the center of the street toward them when Caleb spotted him. The baby started running. He stumbled twice as he tripped along but quickly regained his feet and continued on. Jessica and York increased their pace to catch up with him. Caleb was chattering away, and Jessica was smiling like a proud mother while she watched her baby's antics. When Caleb was about thirty feet away from Cole, he raised his arms and demanded, “Up,” in a roar that echoed down the street.

Mr. Johnson edged up to his knees, swung his Winchester into position, and fired. The guard dropped. Like a pigeon in a shooting gallery, York was moving forward one second and dead on the ground the next.

Jessica screamed. York was facedown in the dirt.
The bullet had sliced through his heart, just as Mr. Johnson intended. He never ever missed.

Jessica fell to her knees and struggled to turn the guard over so that she could help him. There was blood everywhere. “Mr. York,” she whimpered. “No … no … Mr. York…”

She reached for the gun in his holster and had just pulled it out when a shot spit the dirt up next to her side. She screamed again, dropped the weapon, and then grabbed hold once again.

“Get down,” Cole roared to her as he raced forward. The shots were coming from the roof above the general store, but he couldn't see the gunman's exact position. He kept shouting at Jessica to get the hell out of the street, to duck, but she wasn't listening to him.

She squinted up at the roof as she lifted the gun with both hands and tried to fire. She was shaking so much she almost dropped the gun again, and when she finally fired, the bullet shattered the glass of the second-story window.

The sound of gunfire had frightened Caleb, and he was running back to his mother. “No,” Jessica cried out.

Mr. Johnson watched as she ran to intercept her baby. He was toying with her. He was having such a fine time, he couldn't resist playing cat with his little mouse. Because he so enjoyed the look of stark terror on the woman's face, he wanted to prolong the thrill. The boy had quickly come back into range. That was nice. Mr. Johnson smiled as he once again considered killing the boy before the mother so that he could watch her expression. It was bound to be priceless.

She was moving too quickly to suit him.
We can't have that,
he thought with a chuckle as he fired at the ground in front of her. She came to a dead stop. “That's better,” he whispered, but then she was
moving again, and he had to fire at the ground to get her to stop. Dust sprayed up into her face.