To Dream Anew (22 page)
The sheriff looked to Chester Lawrence. “Chadwick is dead. They must have ambushed each other.” He looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Langford.”
“Oh, this is perfectly awful,” Portia sobbed. Her mind raced with a hundred thoughts. She wanted—needed—to know the details of how the men had been killed. “What happened?”
“Your father took a bullet in the neck. Chadwick must have waited for him in the rocks, then shot him. When he came down, apparently your father wasn’t dead yet and he got off a couple of rounds.”
“Where is my father now?” she asked, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief.
“At Doc Bufford’s. He said he’d ready the body for burial.”
“And what of Mr. Chadwick?”
“I had one of my boys take his body back to the Diamond V. Figured they’d want to deal with him.”
“I’m sure my dear friend Dianne will be positively devastated. It’s just too horrible to even speak of,” she murmured and burst into tears anew.
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” the sheriff said, tipping his hat as he backed out the front door.
With the sheriff waiting outside, Portia looked up to find Lawrence watching her closely. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You can thank me later,” Lawrence said in a low gravelly voice.
Portia smiled. “You know I will.”
T
HE EVENTS OF THE PREVIOUS FORTY-EIGHT HOURS LEFT
Dianne numb. Zane’s arrival coincided with a visit from the sheriff, who wanted to know if anyone on the Diamond V knew why Trenton had gone gunning after Sam Brady.
Angelina was inconsolable as she pined for Trenton. Her father had delayed their trip back to Chicago at the news of Trenton’s death. He wanted only to comfort his child, but there was no comfort to be had. Zane and Morgan appeared completely devastated by the news and could only shake their heads when questioned by the sheriff as to Trenton’s motives.
“I don’t know how much you know about your brother’s past,” Sheriff Ferris Tibbot was saying, “but he was pretty notorious in the Midwest. His outlaw activities were enough to see him hanged many times over.”
“That’s not true!” Angelina Turnquist protested. She got to her feet and stood directly in front of the sheriff. “Trenton Chadwick was a good man. He would never willingly harm anyone.”
Her father came up to take hold of her. “Come, Angelina. The man is just trying to do his business.”
“These are lies contrived to make Trenton sound bad, but I know he was a good man.”
Angelina took her seat and began crying anew. The sound of her mournful sorrow was almost Dianne’s undoing. The woman was clearly in love with Trenton and she wasn’t about to see his memory smeared. Dianne had been shocked by many of the details given them from the sheriff. She had known Trenton desired revenge for their father’s death—revenge against the Union, whom he blamed. But she couldn’t believe him capable of murder or the multiple bank robberies that Trenton was being blamed for.
“We realize there’s very little to be done at this point,” Tibbot continued. “Obviously Chadwick mortally wounded Mr. Brady and then Mr. Brady returned fire on your brother. Mrs. Langford was simply hoping to better understand your brother’s reasoning.”
Dianne had finally had enough. She knew it wasn’t her place to dismiss the sheriff, but she was tired of hearing the details and being asked over and over again why her brother would commit murder. A rage was burning in her heart. A rage that demanded revenge.
“Sheriff, I’m certain there must be other tasks that await you. We are in mourning and need to arrange my brother’s funeral. I would ask that you respect that and take your leave.”
Cole said nothing, standing protectively at the back of Dianne’s chair. She was glad he didn’t try to calm her or question her.
“Ma’am, I am sorry for your loss,” Sheriff Tibbot said, getting to his feet.
Dianne was sure of one thing—the man was not at all sorry. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly what part he might have played in the ambush of her brother and Sam Brady. Tibbot had been appointed by Chester Lawrence, and she had no doubt that he was nicely paid to look the other way when it suited Lawrence.
Dianne steadied her nerves and stood. For a moment she looked down at the floor, unwilling to meet the sheriff’s gaze. she was so afraid of betraying her emotions—of giving him more information than he needed.
“Thank you for coming,” Dianne said softly. She measured each word with great care. “I know that my brother wasn’t a murderer. I would appreciate it if you would attempt to learn the truth of this situation rather than accept the word of those who hated him.”
“Ma’am, I’m not exactly sure what you’re saying.”
Dianne seethed and her head snapped up. “I’m saying that you should seek the truth in this matter. My brother and Sam Brady were good friends. Sam sought Trenton out at his last visit here. He didn’t try to avoid Trenton, as Portia has suggested. I think it might do you well to go back and dig for the truth from Mrs. Langford.”
Tibbot shook his head. “The woman cries all the time. Can’t get a word out of her that isn’t muffled and slurred by her cryin’. She can’t help me at this point.”
“And neither can we,” Cole said, coming up beside Dianne. “This entire matter is grieving my wife, and I don’t like seeing her like this.”
The sheriff looked as though he might say something in protest, but instead he picked up his hat and headed for the door. Dianne refused to budge. She wasn’t about to follow the man out and be questioned further.
Angelina sobbed quietly against her father’s chest. Dianne couldn’t help but be moved by the girl’s sorrow. “Why don’t you take her to the cabin,” Dianne suggested to Turnquist. She’d given them one of the small cabins for privacy’s sake when they’d first shown up four weeks earlier. Now, given the circumstances, she was glad for this choice.
Marley agreed and pulled Angelina to her feet. “Come, daughter.”
Dianne watched them walk from the room, heading to the back of the house, where they would exit through the kitchen. Without another word to her brothers, Dianne gathered her skirts and climbed the stairs. She walked the long corridor from the guest rooms, past her bedroom and that of the boys. Morgan and Zane followed, knowing she was going to the room where Trenton had been taken.
In silence they opened the door and walked into the darkened room. Koko looked up from where she’d been tending Trenton. Zane closed the door behind them, and Dianne drew a deep breath.
“The sheriff shared a great many details about your past,” she said to Trenton.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I should have told you myself.”
“How are his wounds?” Dianne asked, still not sure she could accept that Trenton was guilty of so much.
“If the sheriff’s men hadn’t bound him up in that blanket and tied him across the back of the horse, he probably would have bled to death—or at least stopped breathing,” Koko said. “I think the jostling probably saved his life, while the tight ropes kept him from losing too much blood.”
Dianne nodded. “What are we to do?”
“I’m going to leave, of course,” Trenton replied. “I’m dead. Remember?”
“Where will you go?” Morgan asked, sitting on the bed beside his brother.
Trenton winced and then shrugged. “I’ll go to Seattle or maybe up into Canada. I’m not afraid to lose myself in the wilderness.”
“Angelina is devastated,” Dianne suddenly declared. “I think we should let her know that you’re all right.”
“No!” Trenton’s reply was firm. “I don’t want anyone else to know. Just you here, and Cole. That’s enough. I need to start over, and Trenton Chadwick needs to remain dead and buried. I can’t do that with Angelina knowing the truth.”
“But she’s hurting,” Dianne protested. “It’s unfair to make her suffer.”
“Better she suffer now, thinking me dead, than suffer later, living a life on the run.”
“It isn’t fair,” Dianne said, taking hold of Trenton’s hand. “I lost you once before, and now I must lose you again.” She felt a tightness constrict her chest. At least he was alive, she told herself. He would live and be healthy and safe by taking on a new identity.
Zane cleared his throat. “I’ll go with you to Seattle. I have business there. I’ll load you in my wagon to get you out of here. We’ll have a better chance of keeping you hidden if we do it that way.”
“I’ll stay here and deal with Angelina,” Morgan said, eyeing his older brother seriously. “I know she’s in love with you, but I’m in love with her. If I can, I’ll see that she is comforted in that love.”
“I’m glad,” Trenton remarked. “I know you’re a better man than I’ll ever be. Take good care of her.”
“I will.”
“You’ll have to change your name,” Dianne said, trying to think of the details.
“I’ve already thought of that. I’ll go by my middle name—Nicolaas. And I’ll use our great-grandfather’s last name—Mercer. I’ll be Nicolaas Mercer from Omaha, Nebraska. I lived there a time and can describe it as well as any place.”
“So you’ve already got this all planned out,” Dianne said softly.
Trenton met her gaze—his expression taking on a look of deep compassion. “I know this is hard on you, and I don’t think I’ve ever regretted anything as much as I do having to walk away from the life I so love. But if I stay, they’ll hang me for Sam’s death and Portia will go on murdering at will. You and the twins have to figure a way to stop her. You have to get her back to Ned’s father and the law in Baltimore.”
“We’ll do what we can,” Dianne said, knowing it wouldn’t be easy.
“How soon do you think I can travel?” Trenton questioned, looking to his aunt.
“I’d say in another three, maybe four days. You don’t want to rush the healing. Since you’re going by wagon instead of horseback, you’ll probably be able to leave a little sooner—but only if Zane can keep you well cushioned.”
“I’ll see to it,” Zane replied.
Dianne sighed. She was so glad to have Trenton alive. She wasn’t about to question God on what had happened or to cry out to Him about the unfairness of this horrible situation. She could only remember seeing the sheriff’s man throw Trenton’s blanket-wrapped body to the ground and declare him dead after a shootout with Sam Brady. Dianne could still feel the way the news had settled over her like deep waters, stealing her breath, crushing in from every side.
At least he’s alive,
she told herself.
He’s alive and will leave this place to start a new life
. Then the thought of Portia Langford came to mind. The woman had to pay for what she’d done. Dianne didn’t know if Portia had fired the shots, but either way, Dianne would see her pay.
Morgan found Angelina sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch. She looked so pale and thin. She’d stopped the constant crying, but she still wasn’t eating much. Her father had already planned for them to leave for Chicago. They were all to meet up again in July at Yellowstone Park. There they would learn what new funding Marley had managed to take on from the universities back East. Maybe then Morgan would have time to build a new relationship with Angelina.
“Would you care to walk with me?” Morgan asked as he approached her.
“No. I’m not in the mood for company.”
“I know. You’ve told me that more than once. I don’t want to impose myself on you; I just thought maybe you’d like a bit of a change of scenery. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
Angelina looked up and for a moment Morgan was certain she’d say no, but then she surprised him and got to her feet.
“All right. But I don’t want to talk.”
He tried to assist her down the porch steps, but she refused to take hold of his arm. Instead, she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her and walked toward the back fields.
Morgan kept pace at her side. The guilt of not sharing Trenton’s survival weighed heavy on his heart. He wanted nothing more than to spend his life with this woman, but how could he even think such thoughts knowing how she felt about Trenton?
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said softly.
Morgan wasn’t even sure she’d really spoken, but as she continued and the words poured out of her like flood waters over a dam, he settled in to listen.
“I know I was an annoyance to him,” Angelina continued. “I’m much too outspoken—too bold. Every time I tried to talk to him alone, he took on that caged animal look. I suppose given his past, he didn’t think I could forgive him.”
“Not many women would,” Morgan said hesitantly. He Didn’t want to do anything to cause her to stop talking.
“If they were in love with him, they would forgive and forget anything,” she replied. “He was a good man. He gave generously from the heart. I watched him work with some of the men—the younger new men who had no idea what they were doing. He was so patient and kind. For all his gruffness and outlawing past, Trenton Chadwick was a gentle man.”
“He did trust the Lord,” Morgan said, knowing his own history in that area left much to be desired. “He once told me it was only by trusting in Jesus’ power to forgive that he could get through the day. I didn’t know what he meant then—I had no idea of his past. But it sure gave him peace of mind.”
