The Road to Love (19 page)

But he wouldn't. The less she knew, the better.

“I am going to find out what really happened in Mr. Anderson's store.”

He leaped from the cot, took the two steps that brought him to the bars and grabbed one on either side of her curled hands. “I don't want you getting involved. Find someone to finish putting in the crop. Go home and look after the children. Stay away from me.”

She jerked back, her eyes wide. Surprised. Hurt.

Good. Better she should accept the truth about him and leave him alone.

Then her expression softened. Her eyes smoldered and she gripped the bars tighter, jammed her fists against his.

He stilled himself to keep from jerking back but he wouldn't let her see that her touch meant anything.

It didn't.

He wouldn't let it.

“Hatcher. I am going to find out what really happened.” She stepped back totally unaffected by his best scowl. “You won't be able to do anything about it.” She tapped the bars. “You'll be busy here.”

And she left. Left him fuming. Powerless to do anything. Just like she so joyously pointed out.

Stubborn, stupid woman. She had no idea what she was getting into.

K
ate drove home.

The scenery passed in a blur of old yellow from the dry pastures and sifted brown fields against a mockingly bright sky. A blackbird whistled, oblivious to the realities of life, content with his waving reed. Dust swirled in the open window and caught in her lashes, made her eyes water.

She gripped the steering wheel, welcomed the rattle of the old truck vibrating up her arm, jarring her spine. She reached the driveway, jerked too hard on the wheel as she turned, skidded, overcompensated and swerved toward the opposite ditch. Clamping down on her jaw sent a spasm up the side of her face. She held the wheel straight and bounced up the dusty trial to her house.

Shaking, she stopped, found she couldn't let go of the steering wheel, pressed her forehead to her hands, smelling oil and gas fumes and let the dust wash from her eyes.

Her insides knotted so painfully she couldn't breathe. Perhaps she had something wrong with her—an infection, a tumor. Only her agony wasn't physical. It came from deep in her soul. It began as something small when the sheriff cuffed Hatcher, grew when he drove Hatcher away in the back of his car, expanded as she followed in her truck.

But seeing Hatcher in jail, resigned and accepting, not speaking a word in his defense, making it clear he didn't intend to—

Even childbirth hadn't been as difficult to bear.

She straightened, scrubbed at her eyes with aching fingers and stared at her house and the newly planted fields. The earlier seeded ones should be showing green by now. But the seed wouldn't germinate without rain.

Somehow she could think of another crop failure, even the loss of her farm, with detachment. Its significance paled in comparison to Hatcher's situation.

He wouldn't tell the truth.

It was up to her to discover it and make it known.

The children would be home soon. She needed to wash her face, compose her expression and pray they hadn't heard about Hatcher's arrest.

Dougie burst through the door first. “Momma, where's Hatcher? Tommy said he got 'rested. Did he?”

Kate reached for her son. Glanced past him to Mary, who moved like a broken toy, her face pale and streaked from crying. She held her arm out to her daughter.

“Is it true, Momma?” the child whispered.

She held the children close and prayed for the right words to explain this and to comfort them. “I'm afraid it's true. But it's an awful mistake.”

“What did he do?” Dougie asked.

“Is it about what Mr. Grey said?” Mary's words caught in her throat.

“Listen to me and listen good. Do either of you think Hatcher would do something bad?”

Mary shook her head emphatically but Dougie looked doubtful. “I heard Teacher whispering to Mrs. Mackenzie. They didn't know I could hear them. They said—”

Kate took her son's chin and turned him to look full into his eyes. “People say things they shouldn't and others are too willing to believe them without bothering about the truth. Hatcher has been accused of something he didn't do.”

Dougie's expression cleared. “I didn't think he'd do something bad. He told me a man was only as good as his word and should never give anyone reason to doubt him.” He puffed out his chest but he quickly again deflated. “But Tommy said he's in jail.”

“Yes, he is.”

“But why, if he didn't do anything wrong?”

Kate hugged the children tight wishing she could explain the mistake, assure them it all would work out. “I intend to see he's out soon. But there's something you can do to help.”

They both looked eager.

“We need to all pray for him.” She bowed her head, held the children's hands and prayed as earnestly as she ever had. “Heavenly Father. We need Your help so badly. So does Hatcher. Help us know what to do, and most of all, keep Hatcher safe. Amen.”

“I'll pray for him at bedtime,” Dougie announced.

“I'm going to kneel beside my bed right now and pray,” Mary said.

The two of them went to change their clothes and Mary, at least, to raise her own petition to God.

 

After three fruitless, frustrating days, Kate discovered trying to uncover the truth was tougher than she anticipated. At least the truth she wanted. She didn't believe Mr. Anderson's insistence he'd seen Hatcher lurking about the store several times. Kate knew Hatcher had been at the farm. Even with the sheriff pointing out there were plenty of opportunities for Hatcher's absence—when she went to town or visited the Sandstrums—Kate knew it didn't add up with the amount of work Hatcher did while she was gone.

But the sheriff smiled benignly as if to say as a woman she couldn't know for sure. Or perhaps his smirk meant he thought she was emotionally involved with Hatcher and prepared to lie for him.

She returned to the farm after another day of trying to ferret out the truth. She stared at the tractor in the middle of the field. She should try and put in the last few acres of seed but she couldn't think of the farm while Hatcher sat in jail. Nor could she bring herself to challenge the beast.

She moaned. If only she could see Hatcher. Take him something to eat. Assure herself he wasn't suffering physically. She couldn't imagine his mental suffering. But he refused to see her again. It was the sheriff who let it slip that Hatcher hadn't tried to get a lawyer.

She'd seen the resignation in Hatcher's expression, knew he wouldn't defend himself. He didn't expect a fair trial. She wondered if it even mattered to him.

Well, it mattered to her. He had to have a lawyer. A good lawyer would point out the discrepancy in the stories, insist on presenting the facts and not conjecture.

Besides Hatcher was a man of the open like her father. He would wither and die in prison. She could not allow that to happen. If he wouldn't hire a lawyer to defend himself, she would. She knew only one lawyer. Doyle. He had a reputation as a fighter for justice.

She pushed to her feet. There was time before the children returned from school to pay a visit to Doyle's office. She smiled at the irony of it. He'd predicted she'd come begging on her hands and knees. She'd crawl on her belly if that's what it took to get him to defend Hatcher.

She changed into a pretty dress she seldom wore because she found it stiff and uncomfortable, a grey one with white collar and cuffs that Doyle had commented looked very becoming on her. She pulled her hair back and pinned it into a roll instead of letting it hang loose as she preferred.

Tucking a pair of clean white gloves into her pocket to slip on just before she entered his presence, she started the truck and headed for town.

Doyle's secretary greeted her coldy and slipped to the inner office to announce her.

Doyle strode out. “Well, well, well, so you've changed your mind?”

She lowered his eyes to hide the truth, hoped he'd think she was only being demure.

“I've come to talk business.” She peeked up to see his reaction.

His eyebrows reached for his hairline. “Very well.” He waved her into his private office, held a chair for her to sit facing his desk then went around and sat on the other side of the wide, polished surface. “Let me guess. You're ready to sell the farm and would like me to act as your agent?”

“I want to hire you.”

He nodded. “That man I mentioned some time ago is gone but I'm sure we can quickly find someone else interested in buying the farm.”

“Not to sell my farm.”

His eyebrows shot up again. “Then what can I do for you?”

“I want to hire you to defend Hatcher.”

He guffawed. “Surely you jest.”

“You're the best lawyer I know.” Only one but she figured adding that would defeat her purpose. “You believe in the justice system. Surely you want to see him given a fair trial.”

“Why do you want to help him?” He studied her so intently she pretended she needed to fuss with her gloves.

“Because I know he's innocent.”

“There's more to it than that.”

She shrugged. “I guess he reminds me of my father.” It wasn't the biggest reason, but one he might find acceptable.

Doyle's eyes narrowed as he continued to study her.

Her heart drummed against her ribs as she met his gaze, waited for his answer. He was Hatcher's only hope. She prepared to beg.

But he suddenly jerked his head decisively. “On one condition.”

She nodded, prepared to agree to almost anything.

“You marry me.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She clamped it shut, swallowed hard, almost choked on her dry throat. She didn't love him. She didn't even care much about him any longer. She certainly didn't want to marry him.

But she knew if—no, when—Hatcher was released, he'd want to be on the road. There was no room for a wife and children in that sort of life. She would never make the mistake her mother had, following a man back and forth across the country, dragging her children through the cold and snow, never letting them stay in one place long enough to make friends, get an education, feel like somebody.

And if it meant Hatcher's freedom…

“Agreed.”

“You'll sell the farm and move into town.”

She could learn to like town. She'd have a nice house. Lots of nice things. The children would enjoy the benefits. Besides what difference did it make where she lived? God was with her the same on the farm or in town; owning her own home or ensconced in her husband's. God would be with her wherever she went. Besides, it wasn't the farm that mattered. It was Hatcher's freedom. “Will you let me bring Shep and the bunny?”

His lips curled so slightly. “As long as they're kept in the backyard.”

“Then I agree.”

They shook hands like business partners. Then he came around the desk and hugged her. She forced herself to return the embrace.

Back on the street, she leaned against the wall, took several cleansing breaths, stared at the jail across the street then headed home.

Not until she'd reached the safety of her own house did she collapse in a panting, panicked ball in the middle of her bed. She'd just promised herself and her farm to a man she didn't love in exchange for freedom for a man she did love. She would do it again. Gladly. Yet she shivered at the cost.

A vehicle rumbled into the yard.

She curled up tighter. She didn't care for a visit from anyone. Couldn't imagine who'd come calling unless for the purpose of asking nosy questions.

The motor died.

A visitor was inevitable. Kate scrambled to her feet, did her best to smooth the rumpled grey dress, wiped her eyes on the corner of the cotton dress laying discarded on a chair, scrubbed at her cheeks to hide any paleness and hurried from the room.

She glanced out the window, saw Sally climbing from her truck. Come to gloat, no doubt.

She waited for her friend to knock before she crossed the room and opened the door, determined to give Sally no reason to suspect her distress. “I expect you've come to say ‘I told you so.'”

Sally remained on the step. “I came to see if you're still speaking to me after the way I acted.”

The two faced each other, their argument making them wary and uncertain of how to proceed.

Sally lifted a hand, dropped it again. “I should have come sooner, when I heard what happened to Hatcher…but I was pouting. Kate, I am so sorry for the things I said.” Her voice trembled.

Sally had been her friend and confidante too many years for Kate to harbor unforgiveness. She stepped back and indicated Sally should join her then turned to make tea.

“I've heard so many things,” Sally said, her voice guarded as if fearing Kate's reaction. “What really happened?”

Kate put the tea to steep and sat down to face her friend. “At least you're asking for facts this time but do you really want the truth?”

“Of course.”

“Hatcher has been falsely accused of robbery.” She repeated the details.

“Are you certain it's a false charge?”

Kate gave her friend a look that dared her to question.

“He was never in town. I've tried to get to the truth but everyone treats me like I'm some kind of weak-brained imbecile. However, I've done the best I can to help him.” Despite her resolve to be strong and brave and not count the cost to herself, her voice cracked and to her utter amazement, tears washed her cheeks.

Sally sprang to her side, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Kate, I'm sure you've done all you could. It's in the hands of the authorities. The truth will be revealed.”

Kate sobbed in great shudders.

Sally continued to try and comfort her. “Everything will work out. You'll see. Don't upset yourself about it.”