Diamond Duo (22 page)

Sarah stifled a grin but couldn’t help raising one eyebrow at Henry, who seemed to have a harder time hiding his amusement. He busied himself by taking hold of the other corners of the sheet Sarah held, raising his side high overhead and flapping so hard she nearly lost her grip. As the sheet settled to the bed between them, he gave her a playful wink. She turned away and bit her lip to hold in the laughter.

Henry rescued her by drawing Jennie’s attention over to him. “Mighty nice of Doc Turner to open up this room for you, Miss Jennie.”

Jennie sat on the edge of the settee turning her ankle back and forth, studying it from every angle with puckered lips. At Henry’s words, her fretful look turned to joy, and she beamed up at him. “You got that right, Henry.”

She gazed around the room as if she’d never seen it before. “All the times I swept and dusted in here, I never once imagined I’d be sleeping in that bed.” She turned a squinty eye on Henry. “But it weren’t really Doc’s idea, you know. He didn’t have the starch to stand up to Miss Bessie, that’s all.”

They all nodded and mumbled their agreement.

Jennie drew her shoulders back and raised her chin. “Not to say Doc don’t hold me in the highest regard.” She lowered her voice and peered at the three of them in turn. “But we all know things don’t happen this way ’round these parts. If Doc hadn’t been plum bothered and befuddled by Miss Bessie, none of us would be sitting here in this nice room.”

Sarah cast a quick look at Henry. Sure enough, Jennie’s talk about the way things were around Jefferson had him squirming.

He grabbed a feather pillow and blustered over to throw open a window. Leaning on the bustle bench under the sash, he pounded the pillow until soft tufts of down formed a cloud around him and drifted like snow to the street. “Hard to believe it’s jus’ past noon,” he called over his shoulder. “This storm got it dark as gloom out here. Cold, too.”

Jennie pulled the afghan from the back of the small sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Hurry up and close off that draft, Henry. All I need is the croup to go along with this ankle.”

Henry shut the window and tossed the pillow to Sarah. “There now, Miss Jennie. Your bedding’s dusted, and all danger of the croup is past.”

Sarah slid on the crocheted pillow slip and patted out the lumps then turned to give the room a careful look. “I guess that about does
it, Jennie. Unless you can think of anything else you might need.”

Jennie took a look around and smiled up at Sarah. “Seem like you done thought of everything.”

Sarah placed an extra blanket at the foot of the bed. “You sure I can’t stay and sit with you tonight?”

Jennie waved her hand. “My sister’s girl gon’ be here directly. Should’ve been here by now, in fact. Don’t worry–I got Thomas to care for me till she come.” She peered past Henry to where the startled man still lurked by the door. “Ain’t that right, Thomas?”

He spewed and sputtered, backing toward the door and shaking his head.

Jennie shook her finger and fixed him with a warning look. “Hush, now. Bring yourself over here and sit down. You ain’t gon’ no place till my niece show up.”

Sarah picked up the broth and handed it to Thomas, who reacted as if she’d handed him a skunk. “This is cool enough to sip now. See she drinks it down.”

Laughing, Jennie took it from the stricken man. “It’s my ankle what’s ailing, Sarah. Not my hands. You two git on home to your chores. You’ve wasted enough of this day foolin’ ’round with me. Not to say I ain’t grateful.”

Sarah leaned down to hug her. “I’m just glad you’re all right, that’s all.”
Powerful glad.

Behind her, Henry cleared his throat. Sarah guessed he must be thinking along the same lines, remembering what they feared had happened to Jennie. She decided if he laughed, she’d skin him.

Outside, Sarah drew in fresh air laden with sweet relief. It felt good to be headed home instead of to the jailhouse. She sat tall and proper in town, but when the wagon rolled past the Polk Street Bridge, giddy laughter bubbled to the surface. Henry stole a look behind them then pulled back on the reins, climbed down, and ran around to her side. She stood up, fit to bust, and soared into his arms. He swung her around in circles, both laughing so hard their tears mingled each time he kissed her.

“I never been so relieved of a thing in my life!” Henry yelled.

“I thought sure I’d be watching you hang.”

Still clinging to his neck, she jerked her gaze to his face. “But you said–”

“Never mind what I said. I’d done give you up to the noose. Figured nothing on earth could save you. ’Specially if you’d done killed Doc Turner, too.”

If not for his rascally grin, she’d have throttled him. “I’ve never been so scared in all my born days.”

His arms around her waist tightened, and his grin disappeared. “Neither have I, Sarah. I always figured I could protect you from any harm that came your way. I learned today they’s some things only the Lord can shield you from. Don’t think I didn’t call on Him.”

Sarah leaned her head against Henry’s broad chest and let him hold her. She couldn’t tell which of them trembled the worst, but she felt his heart pounding against her cheek.

Henry kissed the top of her head. “I’m jus’ grateful the Almighty took care of you.”

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his chin. “Me, too.”

He pulled back, a glint in his teasing eyes. “You reckon it’s the first time the good Lord used cow manure to save one of His own?”

Sarah laughed again, and he pulled her close for a tender kiss, but they sprang apart at the sound of approaching hooves. Henry tightened his arm around her waist at the sight of three men on horseback headed their way. One of them, a pale-skinned man with long, stringy hair the color of jerked beef, rode out in front. Henry took her arm and gave her a gentle shove toward the rig. “Get aboard, Sarah. Those men are strangers.”

The edge in his voice set her feet in motion. Without waiting for him to lift her, she grabbed the side rail and clambered onto the seat. In his haste, Henry made it around Dandy and into his place before she ever sat down.

“How do you know they’re strangers?”

The men were close enough now to hear, so Henry whispered his answer. “The horses they’re riding came from Rink Livery.” As
he spoke, a winsome smile slid over his face, and he raised his hat in greeting. “How ya’ll doing?”

The men had started reining in their mounts before Henry said a word. Sarah sensed it didn’t bode well. Her legs tensed under her, ready for flight.

Up close, the first man wasn’t much taller than the others. He only seemed so from a distance because he held himself high in the saddle and wore a proud smirk on his face. He turned cold eyes on Henry and called back to his men in a sassy tone, “What we got here, boys? This uppity whelp thinks he can address us without permission, like he thinks we’re one of his kind.” He turned to a portly man with thinning hair. “Do I have anything black smeared on my face, Edward?”

Edward laughed. Sarah figured he spent a lot of time laughing just to please the haughty man. She seethed inside, but Henry’s leg pressed hard against hers sent a clear warning to behave.

As for Henry, he kept right on grinning. “You folks lost? ’Cause if you was lost, you ain’t no mo’.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Not a mile back sits Jefferson, right there where you left it.”

The scrawny man on the right, actually more of a boy so thin Sarah thought he could use a pot of beans, attempted a smile that became more of a grimace. She reckoned he needed more practice.

The tall leader pulled a gold watch from his breast pocket. Not to tell the time but to twiddle it between his fingers while he seemed to mull over something in his head. His next words shot fire through Sarah’s heart. “You two stole that rig, didn’t you?”

Henry’s senseless grin faded. His Adam’s apple rose then fell. “Excuse me, suh? What did you say?”

Pocket Watch Man swept Sarah’s body with a downright meddlesome gaze, so slowly her skin crawled, and then fixed soulless eyes on Henry. “You ain’t deaf, boy. I said you stole the rig. The mule, too, because that there’s my mule. Been looking for my animal all day, ain’t I, boys?”

The grinning dullards alongside him nodded.

“And here you come, riding up with my mule hitched to my wagon, sitting there pretty as you please on a stolen rig.”

Terror melted Sarah’s bones. Her dress was all that held her useless sack of skin on the seat. Henry’s face looked the way it had the time Dandy kicked him in the stomach and laid him out on the ground gasping like a trout.

“No, suh! Ya’ll mistaken. We ain’t no more stole this rig than fly.” He jabbed his finger at Dandy. “I’ve had this here same mule going on three years now.”

The fearsome stranger waited while the stillness behind Henry’s words settled around them like pitched hay. Then he rose up in his stirrups and eased back with a grunt. His squirming seemed to set off the other two riders, because they leaned over their saddles, watching his face and waiting. Sweat pooled at the base of Sarah’s spine.

The man cocked his head at Henry. “Know what I say to that, charcoal boy?”

Henry trembled beside her. His face shifted from fear to terrible rage then relaxed to show no emotion at all. . .until he smiled. Sarah stared up at his even row of shiny white teeth and decided he’d lost his mind.

“Naw, suh, I don’t know what you might say. I sho’ don’t.” Henry leaned back against the buckboard seat and adjusted the raggedy brim of his hat to cover his eyes, which made his broad grin stand out like a polecat at a party. “But I know you sho’ ’nuff ’bout to tell me.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and his face flushed red. “I say you’re a low-down liar and a thief!” Flecks of spit spewed from his mouth into the air.

All three horses lurched toward them at the same time. The skinny, pock-faced boy, who hadn’t yet said a word, reached for the pistol strapped to his side.

Sarah stood up and screamed then lunged forward to cover Henry with her body. A shot rang out, the exploding boom loud in Sarah’s ears. She’d heard that gunshot wounds burned like melted
lead poured in an open sore, so she stiffened and waited to feel hot pain.

When her body spun, she opened her eyes to see if Henry or Jesus held her. Through the haze of fear muddling her mind, she realized Henry had turned his back on the men. Puzzled, she followed his gaze to the edge of the woods.

T. M. Bagby, the sheriff of Marion County, sat astride his horse in a clearing not ten yards off the road. Sheriff John Vines, who held the office just before Bagby, stood next to him, the reins of his dun pony in one hand, a rifle pointed to the sky in the other. Wisps of smoke still streamed from its barrel.

“What’s going on here?” Sheriff Bagby growled.

Sarah’s shaky legs failed her, and she slid down Henry’s body to the seat. Sheriff Vines mounted his horse, and the two men rode their way. Never in her life had Sarah been so glad to see two white lawmen.

Sheriff Bagby came alongside the wagon, his angry glare aimed at the strange men, a fact that greatly eased Sarah’s mind. “I asked you men a question. What the devil’s going on?”

Edward, the fleshy one, lowered his head like a hang-tail dog and backed up behind the others. The hungry-looking boy pulled his hand away from his holster, but by the snarl on his face, it pained him.

The prideful man in front lost no trace of his swagger. He took his time answering while he circled the face of his timepiece with the thumb of his smooth white hand. For the first time, Sarah noticed his slender fingers looked more like a woman’s than a man’s. He pointed at Henry. “This business is between this man and myself. No one else. How about you two ride on off and let us get it settled?”

Sheriff Vines tightened the grip on his rifle and eased closer. “I’d sure like to oblige you, mister, but”–he pointed over his shoulder at the clearing–“from over there it appeared your business had gotten a little out of hand.”

Sheriff Bagby looked even madder than before. “What say
you let us in on the details? We’ll decide whether or not it’s our business.”

Sarah nudged Henry hard. He gave her a look like nobody was home but came around in time to speak up in a jumble of words. “Sheriff, this stranger say I done stole my own wagon. Old Dandy, too.” He straightened his shoulders and scowled at the man. “Ain’t stole nothing. He knows it same as I do.”

The sheriff glanced back at Henry. “Why, that’s foolish talk. Henry here is no thief.”

Pocket Watch Man regarded Sheriff Bagby with one raised brow then spat on the ground between them. “Suppose I want to contest? It’s the word of three white men against one colored boy.”

Sheriff Bagby frowned at each accuser in turn. “Gentlemen, I know this man well enough to say he’s the owner of this rig and the animal pulling it. I can vouch for him myself.”

Sheriff Vines snorted. “So can I, which means you need to refigure your math. Looks like it’s the word of three white men against one colored man and two officers of the law. By my ciphering, our sum’s higher.”

Pocket Watch Man’s jaw worked in circles. “What if I said I bought the rig from him fair and square, paid good money for it, and he slipped around and took off with it again?” He sneered over at Henry. “I know he don’t look smart enough, but he’s got himself quite a racket going down by the docks.” He sat back with a haughty smirk, clearly proud of his lying story. “Now then. What avenues for justice does this town afford?”

The two lawmen shared a grin. Then Sheriff Vines’s amused look turned hard. “Sir, one of the avenues for justice around here is the truth. So I’m sure you won’t mind giving me a truthful answer to a direct question.”

“Not at all. Ask what you will.”

Sheriff Vines tipped his hat. “Let’s start simple. You got a name?”

“Indeed I do. Frank Griswald, from the Boston Griswalds, at your service.”

The sheriff raked him with doubtful eyes. “If you don’t mind, I have a few more questions, Mr.”–he paused and raised one brow–“
Griswald
.”

Sarah and Henry shared a knowing glance.

Sheriff Vines edged closer on his horse. “You boys staying here in town?”