Wyoming Lawman (14 page)

Pearl felt a fresh pang of loss. Someday Matt would marry, and Sarah would finally have a mother. Pearl couldn't be that woman, but she could brighten the child's day.

“Wait,” she said. “I have something for Sarah.”

She went to the storeroom and knelt beside a newly arrived crate from New York. It held an assortment of chapbooks. She picked out a story about a shepherd boy and took it to Matt. Later she'd put money in the till to pay for it.

She handed him the gift. “This is for Sarah.”

“Thank you. She'll enjoy it.”

They traded goodbyes and Matt left. Pearl intended to go immediately to the cash box to pay, but two women walked in as Matt was leaving. They needed help with draperies. After they made a purchase, Mrs. Gates came to look at china. Not for a second did Pearl forget the money she owed. Jasper would fire her instantly if he thought she'd stolen from him. As soon as the store emptied, she reached in her pocket for some coins.

As she took a nickel in change, Jasper came through the door. She startled like a rabbit. “Mr. Kling!”

She had no cause to feel guilty, but the circumstances condemned her.

His brows arched. “Hello, Pearl.”

“I was making change for myself.” She felt foolish. “I bought one of the chapbooks. I gave it to—to a friend. I would have paid right away, but we had customers. I—”

“Don't fret, Pearl.” For once, he looked sympathetic. “You're as honest as the day is long. I know that.”

“Oh.” She felt vindicated but frightened at the same time. Jasper sounded too friendly. Nervous, she resorted to formality. “Thank you, Mr. Kling.”

He looked down his nose. “I
do
wish you'd call me Jasper.”

If she declined his offer, she'd antagonize him. If she said yes, she'd be compromising her need for distance. She settled on a simple truth. “Thank you, sir. But I'm not comfortable—

“Jasper,” he repeated. “Say it.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, turning them red with a mix of anger and fear. She looked him in the eye. “I can't, sir. It wouldn't be proper.”

He looked pleased. “I understand.”

She doubted it.

“Pearl?”

She put her hands on the drawer. As she closed it, it squeaked. “Yes?”

“I respect your father greatly. I admire you, too.” His voice dropped low…or did it? He hadn't twitched a muscle, but she felt trapped behind the counter and had to work to breathe evenly. Silently she prayed he'd disappear into his office. Instead he tipped his head. “You're affected by what I've said.”

“I'm fine,” she said too quickly. “It's—it's a warm day.”

“Stay here.”

He brushed by her, went to the back room and returned with a glass of water. She took it and drank, but she felt like a princess being poisoned.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.” As she set the glass on the counter, she thought of the things Franklin Dean had taken from her—purity and innocence, confidence in herself and in the goodness of people. He'd been killed in Denver when he'd attempted to murder the man who'd revealed his hypocrisy to the people of Colfax Avenue Church. Was Jasper a danger like Franklin Dean, or was it in her head? Considering the circumstances, it seemed likely the unease was in her head.

Instead of leaving, he stood with her. “Your color's back.”

“I'm fine now.”

He smiled again. “I'm
very
glad.”

Pearl didn't like his tone. Neither did she like her father befriending this man or Carrie putting Pearl's name on cookies. She was mad at Matt, too. Why did he have to be handsome and kind, a man with a Texas drawl and an adorable little girl who needed a mother? Why couldn't she say yes to supper and risk a kiss? It wasn't fair. Pearl
wanted to shout at God, too. How much did He think she could endure? She didn't dare break down in front of Jasper. Squaring her shoulders, she went back to shelving shoes. She knew life could be much harder than what she'd just endured, but she didn't think it could feel any more forgotten.

A
t nine o'clock on Thursday morning, a time when Jasper Kling was sure to be at his store and Chester Gates would be counting his money, Matt just happened to walk by Madame Fontaine's bakery. He just happened to see Tobias Oliver seated at a table in the back, the same one Matt had shared with Pearl. The man just happened to be eating breakfast, and Matt just happened to stop for a cup of coffee.

The old adage—hide in plain sight—was the option the men had chosen when they happened to meet at church. For the third Sunday in a row, Matt had taken Sarah to the morning service. Each time he and Tobias had exchanged terse bits of information. Matt had gleaned the names of ten suspects, and he'd spoken with all of them. He'd earned some hard looks, but that came with the job. If things went as he hoped, Tobias had been invited for cigars after last night's meeting.

The sooner Tobias earned the trust of these men, the sooner Matt could bring them to justice. And the sooner he stopped the Golden Order, the sooner he could think about Pearl as more than a friend.

Their meeting at the store had stayed with him for days
now. He wanted more than small talk from her, but he had nothing to give in return. To protect her feelings, he'd stopped visiting the store. He still walked by and looked in the window, but he'd asked Dan to go inside to speak with her. His friend didn't mind a bit. Carrie visited Pearl every afternoon, and Dan and Carrie often left together. Yesterday he'd bought seats for
Romeo and Juliet
and he'd planned to ask her Sunday at church.

Matt wished his own problems were so easily solved. He pulled up a chair across from Tobias. “Good morning, Reverend.”

“Good morning,” Tobias replied.

“Any news?”

His eyes glinted above the scrambled eggs. “I shared a nice cigar with Chester Gates last night.”

Matt sipped his coffee. “Anyone else?”

Tobias gave him five names. In addition to Gates and Jasper, he'd met with Troy Martin, Howard Moreland and Gibson Armond. Martin and Moreland both had ties to the crimes committed by the men in derbies. It took Matt a minute to place Gibson Armond, then he remembered. He owned a freighting company. Recently he'd complained about outlaws hijacking his loads. He was also the man who had almost run over Sarah.

Matt took a sip of coffee, then looked at Tobias. “I don't suppose they offered you a derby?”

“Not yet.” He spoke in a hush. “But last night was an interview of sorts.”

“What did they talk about?”

“Martin and Moreland complained about horse thieves. They both have axes to grind. Mostly, though, Jasper carped about Ferguson Street.” Tobias buttered a slice of bread. “If you ask me, the man has an unhealthy hatred of the place. It makes me wonder if he's hiding something.”

Matt thought of Jasper's visit to the hog ranch. His secret hadn't leaked, but the man lived with the threat of it. “He wouldn't be the first,” Matt said.

“Nor will he be the last.”

“What did Jasper say?”

Tobias shook his head. “He said the fire was God's punishment for the lowest of sins. I'm not one to judge, Deputy. But Jasper has some extreme ideas. He seems sensible enough in public, but he's a different man behind closed doors. Frankly, he scares me.”

He scared Matt, too. When he'd asked Tobias to gather information, he'd expected there to be some risk. Now he worried he'd asked too much. “Sir, you don't have to do this. You can still get out.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you're right about Jasper.” Matt lowered his voice. “He's got a secret and he'll do anything to keep it. Once you accept that derby, there's no going back. If they think you're double-crossing them, you'll pay.”

Tobias gave him a hard look. “Is my daughter in danger, too?”

“Possibly.”

“Then I better move quick,” he replied matter-of-factly. “These men have to be stopped before someone else dies.”

Matt didn't understand his commitment, his willingness to risk his life. And Pearl… If Jasper suspected Tobias, he'd watch her like a hawk. Matt wished he'd never concocted this crazy scheme. “You don't have to be the one. I'll find someone else.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Sir?”

Tobias glared at him. “My daughter was raped because good men in my church turned a blind eye to hypocrisy. I was one of them. If I don't stop these men, who will?”

Matt understood. He, too, had failed to stop something terrible. “You're making up for what happened to Pearl.”

“That's not it.” The man's eyes seemed to catch fire. “My slate's clean because of what Christ did on the cross. I don't have to fix my own mistakes.”

Matt wished he felt the same way. “Unfortunately some of us do.”

“Are you among them, Deputy?”

A flaming arrow hit Matt, and it hit him hard. His eyes glinted. “With all due respect, reverend. That's none of your business.”

Tobias chewed the bacon as if he didn't have a care in the world. Matt wanted to be nonchalant, but he felt as if he'd tripped in one of the gopher holes he'd mentioned to Pearl. His temper flared. “You're a nosy old man, aren't you?”

Tobias chuckled.

Matt didn't see the humor. “Everyone in Cheyenne has regrets. So what? A man learns to live with what he's done.”

“But it gets old, doesn't it?” Tobias chewed the bacon for a long time. “All that worry, not sleeping. I had a rough time before Pearl and I reconciled. What I'm wondering, Wiley, is this: Are you stupid or gutless?”

Matt's eye narrowed. “Neither.”

“It has to be one or the other.” Tobias could have been talking about the weather. “You're either afraid to face up to what you did, or you think you can fix it on your own. The first choice is cowardly. The second is naive.”

“I'm no coward.”

Tobias smiled. “That means you're stupid.”

Weren't ministers supposed to be meek and mild? Matt glared at him. “What are you getting at?”

“You asked why I'm willing to risk my life to stop the
Golden Order. I'm asking you the same question.” Tobias softened his voice. “If I'm going to accept that black derby, I need to know what's got you working so hard. If they can, they'll use it against us both.”

The man had a point. Matt wasn't ready to confess, but Tobias deserved an answer. He fortified himself with a slug of coffee, then looked the minister in the eye. “All right. Here it is. During the war I was a captain in Hood's Texas Brigade. We fought Grant in northern Virginia.”

“I've heard of Hood's Army.” Tobias sounded respectful. “You saved General Lee's life. Lost a lot of men doing it.”

“That we did.” Matt wished he could feel proud, but the heroism of the day had died on Amos McGuckin's farm. “Something ugly happened after the battle. I was responsible.” From across the table, the men locked eyes. Matt had cowed outlaws, thieves and killers, but today he looked away first. “That's all I'm saying.”

“It's enough,” Tobias said quietly. “I won't ask you again, but I'd like you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Read the psalms.”

Matt snorted. “That's poetry.” Even when he'd been a believer, he'd preferred stories about vengeance and war. Sometimes he'd laughed at the Book of Proverbs, especially the verses about fools. The psalms had always struck him as whining.

Tobias took a pencil and a slip of paper from his pocket, jotted a few words and handed the scrap to Matt. “Here.”

The note read Psalm 127. “What's this?”

“Your homework.”

“This isn't Sunday school.”

“Maybe not, but I'll be a minister until I die.” He put
the pencil back in his coat. “That's my requirement for accepting a black derby. You read Psalm 127.”

The old man had him over a barrel. “I hope it's short.”

Tobias chuckled. “It's five verses.”

“I guess I can tolerate it.” He pushed up from the chair. The irony of what he had to say wasn't lost on him. “I'll see you in church.”

“I'll be there,” Tobias replied.

Matt left the bakery and walked three blocks to the sheriff's office. He stepped inside, didn't see Dan and decided to get his “homework” out of the way. His partner kept a Bible in the bottom drawer of his desk. Sometimes Dan read it at night. More than once he'd handed it to a man locked in a cell. Matt took the book from the drawer, thumbed his way to Tobias's psalm and read it. The part about the Lord building a house didn't hold his attention, but the rest of the verse described a man like himself, a night watchman guarding a city. The lawman in the psalm didn't get enough sleep, either. Matt could relate, though unlike the watchman in the psalm, he felt no desire to call on the Lord for help.

The next verses were about children and he liked them. Matt enjoyed being a father. Until recently, he hadn't thought about having sons. Now thoughts of sons made him think of Pearl and Toby. The thought stirred him in a new and good way, but his talk with Tobias had brought old bitterness to the surface. He felt tainted by it, unfit for female company. He'd been crazy to invite her for pie after church. It was a good thing she'd said no. Matt had nothing to give a preacher's daughter.

Feeling dreary, he drummed his fingers on the cover of the Bible and wished again he could sleep at night. He didn't want to ask Tobias's God for help, but neither did he want to be like the watchman in the Bible, trying in vain
to stop evil. Matt hadn't thought a prayer in years, but he thought one now.

I don't deserve mercy, Lord. I don't deserve a family or even a good night's sleep, but I'm asking you to stop the Golden Order.

“Amen,” he said out loud. He closed the book and put it back in the drawer. As he slid it shut, Dan strode into the office. The men traded a look but neither spoke. Matt had to give Dan credit for being wise. Some things were personal for a man. Others were downright humbling. Reading psalms counted as humbling.

Dan scratched his neck.

Matt yawned.

Silence stretched until Dan poured coffee for himself. “Nice day, isn't it?”

“Yep.”

And that's all they said. It was all Matt
could
say, at least for now.

 

For the hundredth time, Pearl looked out her bedroom window at the moonlit street. Leaves skittered with the endless wind, but nothing else moved. The nearby houses were dark with sleep and quiet beneath the November sky.

The clock chimed eleven times and she sighed. Her father still wasn't home. He'd gone to a special meeting of the Golden Order, though why he'd become involved with the contentious group, Pearl couldn't fathom. Her father believed in pouring oil on troubled waters. The Golden Order was more inclined to put a match to tinder, yet he'd become a supporter. Why? Tonight she intended to find out.

But first he had to come home.

She was close to marching to the meeting hall herself when a fancy black carriage rolled down the street. Franklin
Dean had driven a similar brougham all over Denver, and she'd ridden in it many times. Like the one coming down the street, it had a hard top, square glass windows and ornate lamps on the sides. A driver sat on the high seat, guiding two matched grays as they clopped down the street.

When the carriage halted in front of Carrie's house, the driver jumped down and opened the door. To Pearl's astonishment, a man wearing a black derby climbed out and shook hands with another man she couldn't see. As the carriage departed, he turned up the walkway and she saw her father's face. Pearl knew what the derby meant. He'd become involved in something ugly, but why? Chills erupted on her skin like blisters. They popped and stung until she pressed her hands to her cheeks in horror.

She listened to the creak of the front door, then her father's footsteps as he climbed the stairs. After his bedroom door closed, she raced down the hall, barged into his room and shouted in a whisper,
“Are you out of your mind!”

He looked at her as if she were a stranger. “I thought you'd be asleep.”

“
Asleep?
How am I supposed to
sleep
when you're running around Cheyenne in the middle of the night!” She started to pace. “The Golden Order! Papa, you said yourself they're a bunch of troublemakers!”

“It's not what you think.”

She pointed at the derby he'd set on the bed. All the pieces came together. The vigilantes and the Golden Order were one and the same. “If it's not what I think, why are you wearing
that?
”

“Calm down, princess.”

“NO!”

Between her father's news and Jasper's prissiness, she'd had enough aggravation to last a lifetime. Adding to the
upset, Toby had screamed half the evening with colic. Most irritating of all, Matt hadn't visited the store in days. He'd walked by and looked in the window, but he'd sent Dan inside to talk to her. Even Dan had annoyed her. He'd asked her if Carrie liked stage plays. Of course Carrie liked stage plays! So did Pearl. She also liked Matt, who had forgotten about her.

She put her hands on her hips. “I don't understand, Papa. If that hat means what I think, you've lost your mind.”

“I most certainly haven't,” he replied. “But neither do I have to answer to you.”

“But—”

“I'm your father, Pearl. Not a child.”

“Papa, I'm worried about you.”

He walked to her side and spoke as if sharing a secret. “I know how this looks, Pearl. I'm asking you to trust me.”

“I want to, but I'm scared.” With good cause, she thought. “What are you doing?”

He shook his head.

She had only begged once in her life. She'd pleaded with Franklin Dean to stop unbuttoning her dress. She begged now because she feared losing her father. “Please, Papa. Tell me what's going on.”