True to the Law (33 page)

Heather wiped her hands on her apron. “He’s talking about Mr. Mackey’s cousin. The one that you got the telegram about the other night. Surely you remember that.”

“I do,” Collins said, a bit of starch in his voice. “Sent by one Paul M. The way I heard it, that’s Mr. Mackey’s uncle.” Jefferson pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose as he regarded Cobb. “Mr. Mackey already asked to be notified when his cousin arrived. He wants to meet Franklin—that’s his name—at the station same as you. Probably wants to escort him to the Pennyroyal himself.”

“That’s fine,” Cobb said. “I only need to be the first to know.”

Rabbit sidled up to his grandmother. She brushed absently at his cowlick as he said, “I think it’d help if we knew what he looked like. Don’t suppose you know that.”

“As a matter fact, I understand he closely resembles Mr. Mackey. His hair will be more red than brown, but he will have a similar weight and build. He’s also younger than Mr. Mackey by seven or so years.” Cobb could see they were all fixing the image in their minds. Jefferson Collins was particularly thoughtful. Cobb asked, “Is that enough for you to identify him?”

Finn nodded agreeably. “Sure, Marshal. I can picture him just fine.”

Mr. Collins put his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “The boys will probably be in school when the train comes in. I expect it to arrive in the afternoon if snow doesn’t delay it. Should be Thursday. I told Mr. Mackey that, but it could be a day on either side of it this time of year. I’ll make certain you know. Heather can stay at the station counter while I go for you.”

“Is he a villain?” asked Rabbit. His grandmother cuffed him lightly on the back of his head. “What? He could be a villain.”

Finn gauged the distance between his head and his granny’s hand before he chimed in. “Mr. Rush says that Mr. Mackey looks like the man wanted for robbin’ that bank over Rawlins way. The marshal’s got a notice about it hangin’ in his office. I got that picture real clear in my mind, too, and I think Mr. Rush is right.”

Cobb shook his head. “That’s enough, Finn. Mr. Rush’s imagination is second only to yours.” He returned his attention to Mr. Collins. “I appreciate your help. I wouldn’t trouble you if it weren’t important.”

“I figure that’s true, Marshal,” Collins said, showing Cobb to the door. “I figure that’s true.”

Cobb joined Jim and Jenny for Sunday dinner, but Tru was not there. He learned she was having dinner with the pastor and his wife. He expressed no interest in Andrew Mackey’s whereabouts.

Sunday rolled quietly into Monday. Tru did not come to the Pennyroyal to eat. Cobb shared a table with Mrs. Garvin and her two daughters and listened to the details about the wedding dress the seamstress was making for whichever daughter it was that was getting married.

When Tru did not arrive at the Pennyroyal on Tuesday and Cobb had to sit with the couple from Topeka, he concluded she was out of sorts with him for the manner in which he exited her house. Did she think he would have jumped if he’d had another choice? She kept things interesting, he would give her that.

* * *

Tru’s back door was open. Cobb couldn’t decide if it was a trap or an invitation. He entered cautiously and called out to her. The lateness of the hour almost guaranteed that she was in bed. The only light he had seen from the outside was the one in her room. He put his things on the usual hooks and made his way with ease through the dark kitchen. He called to her again at the bottom of the stairs and once more when he reached the top. He thought he heard her stirring as he walked down the hall to her room. Standing on the threshold, he said her name.

He saw immediately that he could have saved his breath. Tru was already sitting up in bed waiting for him, the shotgun lying across her lap.

Cobb rubbed the back of his head, his mouth screwed to one side in deep regret. “I forgot to look for that.”

“I’m keeping it close these days.”

“Because of Frank Mackey?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Can I come in?”

“You’re late with that question, but I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Cobb moved the wing chair from the fireplace to her bedside and sat down. It was then he realized that the barrel of her gun was now facing him. He made a circling gesture with his index finger. “Would you mind turning that the other way?”

Tru made a show of reluctance but did more than he asked by moving the shotgun off her lap and putting it on the far side of the bed. “How is your backside?”

He laid his palm against his left side. “Here. Not what I’m sitting on.”

“I heard it was your backside.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I am. Mostly I want to choke you, but having a laugh at your expense is almost as satisfying.” She looked him over. “How badly are you hurt?”

He shrugged. “About a dozen stitches and a couple of bruised ribs.”

“You could have broken your neck. Did you think of that before you jumped?”

“I didn’t see that I had a choice. I couldn’t be sure that Mackey wasn’t going to come upstairs.”

“You had plenty of time to leave the house. Why didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Cobb? Why didn’t you leave?”

He knew she wasn’t going to like his answer. “I was never going to leave you alone with him. Not here. I don’t trust him.” Cobb saw that she was about to object. He spoke before she could. “I didn’t make a sound in the kitchen. He said he heard something, but he didn’t. He was suspicious from the moment you let him in, maybe before that. He expected to find someone with you. Probably me, but I can’t be sure. He wanted a reason to look around, and when he couldn’t find one, he invented it.”

Tru regarded him uncertainly.

“Unfortunately he was telling the truth about the telegram and Franklin Mackey coming here. I spoke to Mr. Collins on Sunday and confirmed it. He’s going to let me know when Frank arrives.”

Tru’s short laugh had a bitter note. “For a moment there I was hopeful that Andrew had made it up.” Her eyes darted to the shotgun. “I really don’t like sleeping with it, but I thought I’d better get used to having it close.”

“I could be that close,” he said quietly.

“I’m still angry with you.”

“How long do you think that will last?”

“It’s hard to say right now. I’m a little less inclined to run you out than I was when I heard you stumbling through the house.”

“I didn’t stumble.”

“I prefer to imagine that you did.”

A low chuckle rumbled at the back of his throat. “I really have missed you, Tru. Did you know Mrs. Garvin has twenty-two flounces planned for Millicent’s wedding gown?”

She smiled because it was harder not to. “I’d heard.”

“And that couple from Topeka?”

“I don’t think I’ve met them.”

“It’s just as well. They’re Shakespearean actors. I listened to soliloquies from
Hamlet
,
Macbeth
, and
Julius Caesar
. Twice.”

“I suppose I know now who sat with you at dinner.”

“Why wasn’t it you?”

She merely arched an eyebrow at him.

“All right. You didn’t want to be around Andrew
or
me.”

“My, but you do very good detecting.”

He grinned crookedly. “I do.”

“And so modest too.”

Cobb leaned back in the chair and set his boot heels on the bed frame. “I know for instance that Andrew Mackey has not returned to the schoolhouse.”

“Are you watching him or me?”

“I’m mostly in my office reading these days. Doctor Kent says I should have a care for his needlework. I have deputies for surveillance.”

“You are shameless to use Rabbit and Finn that way.”

“I am.”

“And shameless to admit it so easily.”

“You’re right. I am without shame.”

Tru could only shake her head. “Did you lock the back door behind you?”

“I did. I was surprised that it was open.”

“I locked it Saturday, Sunday and Monday just so you would know I was serious. When you didn’t come by any of those nights, I thought this would be the one that would test the limits of your patience.”

“Huh. You know me that well?”

“I wanted to believe that, but your leap from the roof is forcing me to reconsider.”

“You have some questions about my character?”

“I have some questions about your sanity.”

“I told you from the beginning that there were dangers in being a lawman.”

“That’s your defense? One has nothing to do with the other.”

“It’s the best I can do. It’s late. I’m tired. My ribs ache. And I want you to sleep closer to me than that shotgun.”

Tru looked him over again. “I didn’t know about your ribs.”

“I suppose that’s because Dr. Kent is the one person in Bitter Springs who can keep a confidence.”

Tru chewed on the inside of her cheek. “You do look weary,” she said after a moment. “Do you need help undressing?”

“How much pity do you have for me?”

“About enough to get you out of that jacket and vest and maybe your boots.”

“I’ll take it.”

She threw back the covers and slid out of bed. “It’s impossible to stay mad at you.”

“I’ve heard that.” He pushed himself out of the chair and bent a little at the knees so she could ease him out of his jacket.

“Your mother?”

“And my sisters. No one else is ever mad at me.”

“Imagine my surprise.” She folded his jacket, placed it over the back of the chair, and then began to unbutton his vest.

“I can do that,” he said.

Tru brushed his hands aside. “I know. But I want to.” When she was done, she added it to the jacket and directed him to sit on the bed so she could remove his boots. Kneeling in front of him while he carefully braced his arms on the edge of the mattress, she took the heel and sole and began to work the boot back and forth. The first one came off easily, and with that success behind her, she expected the second boot to be equally effortless. Instead, she found she had to grip it more firmly, work it harder, and when she finally pulled it free, the releasing force toppled her off her haunches and onto her backside.

She sat with her legs splayed wide and her back against the seat of the wing chair. She stared at the boot because she didn’t dare look at Cobb. “Don’t you laugh. I can be mad at you about something else. That’s not hard to do.”

“Not laughing,” he said. “The ribs. It hurts.”

Now she did look at him. Apparently grinning did not hurt him in the least. She put the boot aside before she threw it at his head and scrambled to her feet. “The rest is up to you,” she said. She went to the basin to wash her hands. When she was done, she walked around the bed and moved the shotgun to the floor before she climbed in. Cobb was out of his trousers and socks by then, but he was taking some care with his shirt.

Tru knelt behind him and slipped it over his shoulders. She didn’t bother folding it and simply tossed it toward the chair instead. She heard him make a small sound of protest in response to her carelessness, but she was not moved. “Let me see where you were cut.”

“There’s really nothing to look at.”

She kept her hands on his shoulders and squeezed lightly. “You’re not going to win this one.”

Cobb unfastened his flannel union suit all the way to his navel and accepted Tru’s help managing the covers and his comfort as he lay back. She reached over him to nudge the lamp closer to the edge of the nightstand. “You’re going to be underwhelmed,” he told her. “It’s nothing.”

“Let me judge that for myself.” She parted the flannel and carefully bared his left side. There were at least half a dozen scratches marking his skin, but Doctor Kent had only stitched three long, jagged gashes. “There are more than a dozen stitches here.” She tapped one of the cuts with her fingertip. “I count twelve in this one alone. It must have been terribly painful.”

“Not so bad. Getting the glass out hurt worse than the stitches.”

“I can imagine, but I meant the injury.”

“I didn’t feel it. I had other things on my mind. I was halfway to the Pennyroyal by the time I realized I was bleeding. I needed to get back before Mackey so I didn’t get a look at what I’d done until I was in my room. Walt helped me and then went for Dr. Kent.”

“I thought the doctor would have wrapped your ribs.”

“He wanted to. I’ve had it done before. It doesn’t help much, and it’s too restrictive.”

“What? You’re afraid some binding will make it harder for you to draw a weapon you never seem to be wearing anyway?” Shaking her head, Tru leaned over Cobb again and pushed the oil lamp a safe distance from the edge of the stand.

“Have I needed it?” he asked. “I’ll wear it when I need it.”

“I know there’s an ordinance against carrying,” she said, “but that doesn’t apply to the marshal, and the ranch hands who only get into town when there’s a lack of work or a cattle drive, well, they don’t think it applies to them.”