The Accidental Lawman (16 page)

I
n the week that followed, Amelia treated more patients than usual. When Timothy Cutter came down with a bad case of heartburn, she prescribed baking soda dissolved in water followed by a cup of warm milk. She soothed a cowhand’s sunburn with a paste of baking soda and vinegar, a grandmother’s earache with three drops of warm paregoric, and when Harrison Barker’s mother, Barbara, showed up complaining of a terrible pain in her leg, Amelia tied a string soaked in turpentine around the offending limb and sent her home to rest. The next morning Mrs. Barker returned and claimed she’d never felt better.

Though Mrs. Barker paid her with a package of needles and a new thimble, most everyone else had paid in coin. Though it broke her heart to do so, Amelia found a new hiding place for her growing savings—an old sock tucked into her bottom bureau drawer—in case Evan came back.

As the days passed, her brother was never far from her thoughts. She prayed for God to guide and protect him throughout the day, remembered him during her bedtime
prayers. When she wasn’t thinking of Evan her thoughts drifted to Hank. She wondered what he was doing, wondered if he was thinking of her.

He made arrangements to stop by and take her for a stroll after Sunday service and that afternoon, when she heard footsteps on the front porch, she forced herself to walk, not run, to answer. She paused before the small mirror on the hall tree and smoothed her hand over her hair. She’d taken the time to comb out her long braid and brush her hair to a high, glossy shine before she coiled it into a thick chignon at the nape of her neck.

She never wore jewelry—she had none to wear—but she’d picked a few sprigs of lavender and tucked them into the left side of her chignon and secured them with small tortoiseshell pins. Her gown was her newest, only three years old. The calico was a joyous pattern of miniature sprigs of pink and yellow daisies scattered over a white background and reflected her mood.

Amelia was smiling as she opened the door, but her smile quickly wilted when she discovered not Hank, but a huge man, well over six feet, standing on her front porch. He wore a leather vest over a chambray shirt, serge pants tucked into knee-high boots, and a weather-beaten ten-gallon hat that might have been bone-white once upon a time but was now the indiscriminate color of Texas trail dust.

“You Evan Hawthorne’s sister?” he asked before she could voice a greeting.

“I am.” She refused to let his size and scowl intimidate her.

She tried to see around him—he was nearly as wide as the door and almost as tall. She noticed there were three men waiting beside their horses beyond her fence.

Could this be the leader of the Perkins Gang? Had
Evan sent him to her very door? A vision of the townsfolk of Glory, of Hank, Charity, the McCormicks, all the friends and neighbors who relied and trusted her. Had she brought this threat down upon them all?

Dear Lord, please help and protect me. Protect us all.

She was frightened but she stood her ground.

“I’m Amelia Hawthorne. And you?” She looked him up and down for good measure.

He brushed aside his vest where it had fallen over the bright brass star pinned on to the front of his shirt.

“I’m Oswald Caldwell, sheriff of Comanche County. The Perkins Gang robbed an army supply wagon up near Brownwood. We tracked them up to thirty miles from Glory. Have you seen your brother in the past two days?”

“I haven’t seen him for nigh onto a month or more.” She could tell by the skeptical look in his eye that he didn’t believe her.

“So he’s not here.”

“No, sir, he is not.”

“Then you won’t mind my having a look around, will you?”

“Of course not.” She didn’t like the man—and not just because he was tracking Evan. He was overbearing, curt, and used not only the badge on his shirt but his height and strength to try to bully her into acquiescence.

The minute she granted permission, she realized if Evan was in the vicinity, he might very well have snuck home that morning while she was at church. Even now, he might be hiding in the barn or one of the outbuildings. He could have ridden into the barn, climbed up into the loft. There could be a host of outlaws with him.

Oswald Caldwell motioned to the men behind them. Within seconds, they searched her home with guns
drawn. Their booted footfalls trod heavy, their spurs jangled metallically, scarring her floor with every step. They split up, each took a room.

Amelia followed behind, dashing into one and then the other bedroom. She watched them open armoires and peer under beds. One of the men jerked open her pantry door while another leaned over the apothecary counter as if Evan might have folded himself onto a shelf to hide.

When they were finished, they congregated in the kitchen. The county sheriff shoved aside the faded yellow curtain at the window above the dry sink.

“You three fan out, check the barn, the outhouse, the shed.”

The men hurried to do his bidding. Amelia started after them. If they found Evan, if her brother put up a fight—

She wanted to be there, to try to talk sense into him before it was too late.

She’d taken but one step toward the back door when she felt Sheriff Caldwell’s huge fingers close around her upper arm and draw her back.

“Hold on there, missy. Best you wait right here, outta the way.”

She tried to wrest herself free but his grip was strong as iron. And then, from behind them, she recognized Hank’s voice.

“Best you let her go, Caldwell.”

His tone brooked no argument. Oswald released her, but shot her a warning glance when she started to head for the barn.

“Wait, Amelia. Please,” Hank said. “What’s going on?”

Amelia held her breath, thankful no gunfire had issued from the barn or the tool shed. One of Caldwell’s
men walked back out into the open and yelled, “All clear, Sheriff.”

The air went out of Amelia and she feared she might fold up like a wilted buttercup. Suddenly, Hank’s arm slipped around her shoulder. Despite her resolve not to let Caldwell know how badly he’d shaken her, Amelia found herself leaning against Hank for support.

“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Hank demanded again.

“The Perkins Gang is on the move. They held up an army supply wagon headed for Fort Griffin. Didn’t get much, but they got away. Silas Jones shot and killed a man near Brownwood when they holed up there last week. Yesterday afternoon someone thought they sighted them headed this direction. Since Hawthorne is from Glory, we rode over here on the off chance he came home.”

He looked at Amelia for a second, took note of the way Hank had his arm protectively curled around her. “I hope you’ll do the right thing, Larson, if and when Hawthorne shows up here again.”

Amelia felt Hank stiffen at the insult. She tried to move away but his hold tightened.

“I swore an oath to protect this town, Caldwell. I don’t take my promises lightly.”

“You told me yourself you’re looking to find a replacement.”

“The fact that Evan Hawthorne is wanted has nothing to do with me stepping down. I never asked for this job, but as long as I have it, I’ll do my duty.”

Caldwell stared at Hank, taking his measure. Finally satisfied, he turned away long enough to instruct his men to head back around front and wait for him there.

“I’ve got some new Wanted posters with me,” Caldwell told Hank. “Now that Silas Jones is wanted for
murder, there’s a reward for him dead or alive. The others have all been implicated in the supply wagon robbery. Sooner or later, we’ll find out where they go to ground.”

Amelia was treated to his cool regard again as Caldwell added, “Mark my words, we’ll bring them all down before too long.”

She forced herself to stand tall and gently push away from Hank. This time he let her go.

“You get my drift, Miss Hawthorne? Your brother will be brought to justice,” Caldwell promised.

Hank took a step toward the taller man. “You should be talking to me, Caldwell, not trying to intimidate Miss Hawthorne.”

Oswald Caldwell looked them both over cooly. “I didn’t realize you two were so close. You plan to run this new information in your paper, Larson, or keep it quiet as a special favor to your sweetheart?”

“I am
not
his sweetheart and Hank will report the news, Sheriff. All of it.”

Avoiding Caldwell’s stare, she smoothed down the front of her skirt, careful not to let her hem brush against the odious man’s boots. “Now if you are finished ransacking my home, I’d thank you to leave.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Hank gave Caldwell no excuse to linger and insult them any longer.

Oswald Caldwell turned on his heel and headed back through the front room and out the door they’d left standing open in their haste. He signaled one of the men to join them, waited for him to bring Hank a role of new Wanted posters.

“I’ll be seeing you, Larson,” Caldwell promised.

Hank nodded but said nothing. Amelia wished the man would get off her porch and leave but he lingered a moment longer.

“A word of advice?” he said.

“Go ahead,” Hank muttered.

“I’m not telling you how to do your job, Larson, but if I was you I’d ride out to the surrounding ranches and alert them to the fact that the Perkins Gang was seen headed in this direction and to keep an eye out for them.”

“Point taken.”

Caldwell pinned him with a hard stare again. “Then I’ll be on my way. You know where to find me. I’ll expect to hear from you if you find out any of the Perkins bunch is around.”

Caldwell rode off, taking the joy out of Amelia’s day.

“What an odious man.” She voiced her thoughts aloud as she stood beside Hank and watched the man and his deputies head down the street.

“I hope you don’t mind my barging in like that, but when I saw those horses hitched up out front and your door standing wide open, worry got the best of me,” Hank explained.

“I’m glad you were here. I don’t know what I’d have done had that man found Evan in the barn. How could I have ever proved I hadn’t known my brother was here? How could I have protected Evan?” She ignored the open door, walked over to the edge of the porch and grasped the wood railing.

She felt Hank move up behind her, felt his comforting presence though he didn’t say a word. Finally, he touched the back of her hand. “Do you still feel like taking a walk?”

Tears threatened to fall. She blinked them away, turned to look up at him over her shoulder. “Not really. I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. I know how much this hurts, Amelia.”

She let go a long sigh. “You should probably go. You have a story to write.”

“You know I’d do anything to spare you this but—”

“It’s your duty, Hank. I’d rather you bring my brother in than have Caldwell do it.”

“I know that. I’m sorry Caldwell insulted you with his insinuations. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”

Her face flamed. She dropped her gaze. “I kissed you,” she whispered.

“I kissed you, too. There was nothing untoward in those two innocent kisses, Amelia. Nothing unchaste.”

“Maybe you should go, Hank.”

“I hate leaving you alone while you’re upset.”

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t the complete truth. She was far from fine, but she was made of sturdy stock. She wasn’t going to fall apart now.

“I’m never alone, Hank. The Lord is always by my side.”

“I’ll stay a while longer if you don’t mind.”

Since it appeared he wasn’t leaving, they sat together in the shade of the front porch, each trying to act as if Oswald Caldwell’s news hadn’t just turned her life upside down.

Hank leaned back against the porch rail and tipped his hat back onto the crown of his head. Amelia warmed from head to toe when Hank’s smile almost made her forget about Evan. Almost. She glanced at the roll of posters he’d placed on the old rocker near the front door.

“You have work to do, Hank. And I have things to tend to.”

“Surely you don’t work on Sunday.”

“No.” She shook her head. “But I think I’d feel better if I spent some quiet time reading the Bible.”

“I envy you your faith. It appears to be of great consolation to you.”

A sense of peace came over her. “It is,” she answered truthfully. “I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your reading.” He reached for the posters. “Would you like to see one of these before…”

He stopped so abruptly she knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Before I see one on the street? No, Hank. I don’t want to see one yet.”

He tucked the posters beneath his arm, then reached for her hands and stared deep into her eyes. She was warmed by his concern.

“I made you a promise, Amelia. I’ll do the best I can for Evan. If I do run into him before Oswald does, I’ll try to talk him into turning himself in peaceably. Maybe if I can convince him to testify against the others, his sentence will be lighter.”

She never in all her life thought she’d be having a conversation like this about her own brother.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded but a lone tear slipped down her cheek, embarrassing her with the sheer rawness of the emotion it conveyed. She couldn’t hold back her tears any more than she could protect Evan.

Hank reached up, cupped her cheek with his palm and thumbed away her tear.

“Evan will be all right, Amelia. I promise.”

Long after he was gone, she prayed it was a promise he could keep.

On Monday, Hank hung four Wanted posters on Main Street, one at each end, one outside the Silver Slipper, and one on a tree near the land office. He figured one poster was enough for those living on the more respectable end of Main Street near the park, the church and the homes nearby. Most folks already knew to be on the lookout for
Evan. They also knew Amelia well and Hank reckoned they’d appreciate him sparing her embarrassment whenever possible.

On Tuesday morning, he had just called upon Timothy Cutter at the bank when he walked out and saw Amelia on the boardwalk nearby. Her head was tipped back, her profile hidden behind her wide-brimmed straw hat. A basket dangled forgotten from her right hand. He started to call out a greeting, then realized she had stopped because she’d seen the new Wanted poster he’d tacked to the side of the butcher shop.