Faithful Heart (18 page)

Myron allowed Dottie to pass through the door first, then moved past her and led her down the narrow corridor. Jerrod was on his feet at the bars when they entered the cell block.

Marty Tillman was in cell number two, sitting on the cot with his back against the wall. His face carried its usual dour expression. He watched as Dottie rushed to her husband and kissed him through the bars.

“Stay as long as you want, Mrs. Harper,” Hall said. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

“Thank you,” she said, then turned and reached through the bars to grasp Jerrod’s hands with her own. “I understand Reverend Yates was here.”

“Yeah,” nodded Jerrod. “Was mighty nice of him to come.”

“So what did he say?”

“Not a whole lot of talk, honey. He read the Bible to me, and we had prayer together.”

“He didn’t talk to you about … your problem?”

“Well, I suppose he did a little.”

Tillman left the cot and walked to the bars that separated the two cells. “Excuse me, crazy man. Tell your missus there what the holy man said. You know …’ bout how important it is that you see that brain doctor. What’s ’is name? Carroll, or somep’n like that.”

“Mind your own business, Tillman!” Jerrod snapped.

Tillman shrugged and tilted his head to the side. “Just thought your missus should know that the holy man thinks you got a bolt loose an’ you need it tightened.”

Jerrod stepped up to the bars that separated them and said, “When I want your advice, I’ll ask you. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut!”

“My, my! Testy today, ain’t we? I just thought—”

“I don’t care what you think! Leave us alone!”

“I’d love to, pal, but they won’t let me outta here.”

Jerrod burned Tillman with flaming eyes until the outlaw turned and went back to his cot. Dottie was frightened when she saw the look in Jerrod’s eyes. She reached through the bars and took his hands again.

“Jerrod, listen to me. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you very, very much.”

He seemed to look right through her for a few seconds, then the fierceness and the fire began to diminish. She repeated her words of love and felt the tension go out of his hands and arms.

Jerrod swallowed hard, worked at calming himself, and said,
“I love you too, Dottie. You’re the best wife a man ever had.”

“Then why’d ya put them bruises on her pertty face?” Tillman said. “You’d think a man as lucky as you’d treat his woman like a lady!”

Jerrod whipped his head around as though stung by a hot iron. “I feel bad enough about what I did to her. I don’t need the likes of you shootin’ off your mouth.”

Tillman chuckled and said, “And just what’re you gonna do about it?”

“Jerrod!” Dottie cried, squeezing his hands. “Ignore him! Please, honey, look at me!”

Jerrod’s features were trembling as he brought his head back around and looked into her eyes.

“Don’t give in!” she said. “I love you, Jerrod! Tell me you love me.”

Jerrod’s muscular frame trembled as he fought his other self. He gripped Dottie’s hands so hard she thought he would crush them.

“Say it, darling! Say it!”

Jerrod’s lips quivered, but he choked out, “I love you.”

“Jerrod, do you
really
love me? With all your heart?”

“Of course,” he said, nodding slowly. “You know that.”

She licked her lips nervously. “All right, then. I’m going to ask you to do something because you love me.” Dottie freed one hand and reached up to stroke Jerrod’s bearded cheek. “Darling, I went to see Dr. Carroll this morning. He says he can treat you if you’ll come into his office on a regular basis. He’ll put you on sedatives that’ll help you not become so violent when … when the spells come on you.”

“That’s not all he’ll do, Dottie. He’ll lock me up in that asylum.”

“No, honey. We discussed that. He promised me it would just be visits in his office.”

“But I don’t want to be treated like I’m crazy.”

“You’re not going to be treated like you’re crazy. I explained what happened to you in the War. Dr. Carroll understands. He can help you.”

“I can’t do it!”

“Jerrod, listen to me. You love James and Molly Kate, don’t you? I know you do. Remember how terrible you felt when you beat James the other day? What would you do if some other man had done that to your son?”

Jerrod’s eyes went wide at the thought.

“Was it you who beat James or was it the other Jerrod, the one inside you?”

“It was him … the other Jerrod.”

“Then why don’t you beat the other Jerrod by letting Dr. Carroll help you?”

While this thought was sinking in, Dottie said, “Sheriff Donner will only release you upon my say so.”

“He can’t hold me more’n a day or two unless Reverend Yates presses charges.”

“He can if I go before one of the county judges and say I fear for our safety if you’re released. The judge could confine you here indefinitely, Jerrod.”

“But … you wouldn’t leave me locked up in here!”

Dottie cleared her throat and moved back from the bars a step. “Jerrod, I cannot subject James and Molly Kate to the fear
of being beaten by you any longer. I see the terror in their little faces. I’m their mother, and I must protect them. If you won’t promise to go to Dr. Carroll with me, I’ll have to ask a judge to keep you locked up. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tears filmed Jerrod’s eyes. “Yes. I understand. Dottie …”

“Yes, darling?”

“Tell Sheriff Donner I’ll go see this Dr. Carroll.”

“That’s a promise?”

“That’s a promise.”

“Oh, Jerrod!” she exclaimed, rushing back to him and kissing him through the bars. “Thank you!” She raised her eyes heavenward and said, “And thank
You
, Lord!”

“Go tell the sheriff, honey,” Jerrod said, smiling. “Let’s go home. I’ll see Dr. Carroll today, if he has time.”

“Sheriff Donner isn’t here right now,” Dottie said. “He won’t be back till about five o’clock, and Deputy Hall can’t release you. I’ll drive back into San Francisco and set up an appointment with Dr. Carroll for tomorrow. Then I’ll be back here at five so you can be released.”

“All right,” Jerrod said.

They kissed through the bars again, and Dottie hurried to the office. “I’ll be back at five o’clock,” she said to Myron Hall. “In case I’m a little late, don’t let Sheriff Donner leave again. I want to get Jerrod out today.”

Hall cleared his throat nervously and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Sheriff Donner just sent a message to me by wire from San José. He won’t be back until morning.”

“Oh, no. Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do about that. I’ll go back and tell Jerrod I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

Jerrod had just sat down on his cot when he heard Dottie’s footsteps once again. He stood and went to the bars. “Back already?” he said with a smile. “What time’s the appointment?”

Dottie smiled broader than she had in a long time, then explained that the sheriff wouldn’t return until morning. She would be back then to get Jerrod and take him to San Francisco.

Dottie went away for the second time, and Jerrod returned to his cot and sat down. The stench of a cigarette met his nostrils. Jerrod glowered at Tillman, but said nothing.

Tillman rose from his bunk and moved toward the bars between them. “You oughtta be ashamed of yourself, Harper,” he said. “Those are some mean lookin’ bruises you put on her. Somebody bigger than you oughtta take you out behind the barn and beat you till there’s nothin’ left. I’ve robbed banks and stagecoaches, but I’ve never hurt a lady.”

“Shut up, Tillman!” Jerrod said.

“Such a sweet little lady. I’d like to horsewhip you myself!”

“I told you to shut up!” Jerrod yelled, leaping to his feet and pressing his face to the bars.

Tillman stayed out of reach. “You know what? Dottie oughtta divorce you and find a man who’ll love her and treat her right.”

Jerrod gripped the bars till his knuckles turned white. Then, slowly, he lowered his head and began to weep. Tillman took another step closer.

“You don’t understand!” Jerrod sobbed. “The War … it did somethin’ bad to my mind. It’s like another person lives inside me. An evil person. Sometimes he takes control of me, and I can’t help what I do. I can’t help it!”

“You’re a stinkin’ liar, Harper! You just use that shell shock stuff as an excuse to beat up on people and get away with it!
You’re a bully, that’s what you are!” He took another step forward and blew smoke in Jerrod’s face. “I hope your wife comes to her senses, leaves you in here, and divorces you! That’s what you deserve!” He drew on the cigarette and leaned close to exhale again in Jerrod’s face.

Jerrod shot both hands through the bars and seized Tillman by the shirt. Surprise widened the outlaw’s eyes, and the cigarette fell from his mouth, tumbling to the floor in a shower of tiny sparks. There was a flame in Jerrod’s eyes. His lips pulled back into a wicked smile.

“Look, Jerrod,” Tillman stammered, “I … I didn’t mean it! I was only joking! I—”

“You’re
the liar, Tillman! You meant every word of it! So you like to blow smoke in people’s faces, eh? Maybe I need to rearrange your face a little!”

Jerrod yanked Marty Tillman forward, smashing his face into the bars.

In the office, Deputy Hall heard a heavy thud and a shriek like he had never heard before. He dashed into the cell block to see Jerrod repeatedly yanking Tillman toward him, smashing his bloodied face against the bars.

“Jerrod! Stop it!” Hall shouted.

Jerrod continued as if he had not heard him at all. The deputy quickly unlocked the cell door, rushed in, and cracked Jerrod over the head with the barrel of his revolver. Jerrod dropped in an unconscious heap.

Marty Tillman slumped to the floor. Hall left Harper’s cell, locked it, and entered Tillman’s cell. He found the outlaw conscious
but dazed. Blood was coming from his nose and mouth. Hall half-carried Tillman to the cot and laid him on it, then began washing the blood from his face. He didn’t appear to be seriously hurt. Jerrod came to and rolled, groaning, onto his hands and knees. He struggled to rise, his head still filled with swirling fog, and managed to stumble to his cot.

Hall moved out the barred door, locked it, and said, “What brought this on?”

Jerrod eyed the deputy from where he sat rubbing the back of his head. “He blew smoke in my face and shot off his mouth about things that’re none of his business.”

“So what’d you say anyhow?” Hall asked, looking toward Tillman.

Tillman sat up, grimacing in pain. Before he could speak, Jerrod cut in. “He said Dottie oughtta leave me and find a man who’ll treat her right.”

“Well, she
should!”
Tillman said.

Myron Hall sighed and said, “Well, let’s just say she deserves better than she’s been getting. I’m glad you’ve agreed to put yourself under Dr. Carroll’s care, Mr. Harper. You’ve made your wife very happy … and she has some happiness comin’. Now you two see if you can’t be a bit more civil to each other. If nothing else, maybe you could try ignoring each other.”

Hall then returned to the office. Jerrod laid down on his cot and quietly stared at the ceiling, his head throbbing.

Marty Tillman lay there and cursed under his breath. Twice when Hall was tending to him, he could have grabbed the deputy’s gun, but his vision was blurred and he was too woozy to have tried a break.

The outlaw grinned to himself. He would find a way to get
another opportunity. He looked through the bars at Harper, who lay in silence on his cot. Hatred boiled in him toward the big brute. He imagined how good it would feel to put a bullet in him.

T
HE AFTERNOON SUN
slanted through the latticed office windows, lengthening the shadows of the cross-pieces as they stretched across the polished hardwood floor.

Flora Downing looked up as the door came open and smiled when she saw Dottie Harper enter. “Back so soon, Mrs. Harper? What can I do for you?”

Dottie’s eyes were dancing with delight. “I need to make an appointment for Dr. Carroll to see my husband in the morning, Miss Downing.”

“All right,” said the receptionist, sliding the black appointment book toward her from the corner of the desk. “Is one time better than another?”

“Late morning would be best.”

Flora ran the blunt end of the pencil down the page. “Well, I have 10:15, or I have 11:30.”

“Let’s make it 11:30.”

“All right,” Flora said, “11:30 it is. Your husband’s name?”

“Jerrod. J-E-R-R-O-D.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, writing it down. “H-A-R-P-E-R Same as yours.”

Dottie laughed. “Most husbands spell their last name the same as their wives.” It felt good to laugh. Things were looking better. Jerrod was going to get help, and Dr. Carroll was the man to do it.

At the Reeves farm, James Harper was in the barn, watching Grandpa Will milk the big rawboned Holstein. They had fed the chickens together earlier, and would soon go to the house for supper.

The sun was setting over the low-lying hills that led to the ocean, giving an orange-red cast to the land. The big barn door that faced the house was open, and James took a moment to admire the sunset. The sound of the two milk streams hitting white foam in the bucket was a familiar one to the eight-year-old.