True to the Law (38 page)

Tru nodded and resumed eating. The chicken cutlet was so tender that it all but melted on her tongue. “What do you think Andrew will do?”

“I only know what I would do. Try to talk to you. Preferably without a dozen pairs of eyes gauging the success or failure of my conversation.”

“You think he’ll come by my house then.”

“I would.”

“You
do
.”

“See?”

Tru didn’t smile. “I should see him alone.”

“Uh-huh.”

She did not mistake his reply for agreement. “There’s still the matter of what motivated him to propose. I want to know.”

Cobb cut into his chicken carefully and lifted his fork to his mouth. “It’s not just Andrew any longer. There is Frank to consider.”

“He’s certainly not going to propose.”

“God, I hope not.”

“Hear me out.”

Cobb did not see that he had a choice, and the sideways glance he shot her told her so.

“It’s better if I invite him to come to me. I can name the time, the place. Otherwise, I’ll have no warning. He’ll just show up. It will be awkward and uncomfortable.”

“Dangerous,” said Cobb. “You left that out.”

“Not Andrew. You’re wrong about him.”

Cobb traded his fork and knife for his beer. “I’ve hesitated to say this, but you’re naïve about Andrew Mackey.” He looked around to see if they were being watched as closely as when they came in. The diners nearest to their table seemed to have finally found something else to occupy them. Still, he kept his voice low and pretended more interest in his beer than in Tru. “I’ll tell you why Andrew was in the hall when Franklin cornered you in your room. It was a plan hatched between them to get you away from Charlotte Mackey. It’s hard to say how far Frank would have gone left to his own devices, but he wasn’t acting on his own. He went as far as Andrew allowed him. Don’t be confused about who was pulling the strings that night. Andrew was clever enough not to take the tale back to his grandmother. You told me Paul Mackey did that, but I think it was Andrew, not Frank, who saw the wisdom in involving his uncle. Young Frank does not lack for hubris. That was certainly apparent during our brief meeting. It’s worth considering that he doesn’t comprehend the extent to which Andrew manipulated him. And if he does know, then he will never admit it. Andrew thought you would be so grateful for his rescue that you would agree to become his mistress. I wonder if he shared that with Frank when he set his scheme in motion.”

The bite of biscuit in Tru’s mouth was paste by the time she was able to swallow it. “You don’t know any of that to be true,” she said. “It’s all speculation.” She tapped the side of her head with her forefinger. “It’s all up here.”

Cobb recalled something Rabbit and Finn had said to him. “I’m a pretty good speculator.”

“I thought you depended on evidence.”

“I’m not arresting them, Tru. I’m warning you.”

“Because I’m naïve.”

“Maybe that was the wrong word, but if you’re honest, you’ll realize that you still remember some part of Andrew Mackey with the affection you had for him when you were a girl and a younger woman. That colors your perspective. I know. Sometime I’ll tell you about Rebecca Frost.”

Tru ignored that. “I could ask Walt to deliver a note to Andrew for me. He wouldn’t have to come to my home. I could invite him to meet me at the school. He helped me with chores last Friday. If you’re so concerned, you can hide in the closet.”

Cobb sputtered on a mouthful of beer. Tru clapped him on the back.

“There’s really nowhere else for you to go.”

Cobb ducked out of the way of her next blow and put down his glass. For the benefit of the attentive gazes that his coughing and her slapping had attracted, Cobb smiled at Tru and talked through his teeth. “I am
not
hiding in a broom closet.”

“I’ll take the broom out. I can’t very well have Andrew going to look for it when you’re in there. That’s not practical.”

“Tru.”

She recognized the warning in his tone, and she smiled sweetly if not sincerely. “It’s your responsibility to arrive at a better solution. I’ve offered mine.” She pushed her plate away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go home to write out that invitation.”

He automatically started to rise when she did. She waved him back in his seat. “You should stay here, Cobb. I believe things will become more interesting once I’m gone.”

“They’re pretty interesting now.” Still, he sat. He thought Tru might kiss him, but if she felt the impulse, she stuffed it in a closet.

* * *

Cil Ross did not go to Andrew Mackey’s room with her news. She passed it along in the form of a hastily scribbled note that she gave to him when she served his chicken cutlets.

Frank watched the exchange. When Cil sashayed back to the kitchen, he turned to Andrew. “You’ve had a poke at her.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“No one heard. There’s hardly anyone in here.”

“That’s because we’re eating on Chicago time. In an hour or so everyone who isn’t in one of the saloons will be in bed.” As if to underscore the truth of his statement, the three councilmen occupying a corner table got up and filed out. Andrew opened Cil’s note in his lap.

“What did she write?” Frank asked. His eyes darted to Cobb’s table. The marshal did not look up from his cobbler.

Andrew crumpled the paper in his hand and shoved it into his pocket. “It seems Mr. Bridger and Miss Morrow were nearly run over by a wagon this afternoon.”

“She thought that was important for you to know?”

“She thought I should know they were kissing at the time.”

“Ah. Then you
are
poking her.”

* * *

Tru lighted one of the candles on the altar and carried it back to the pew where she sat on Sundays. She set the candlestick beside her. The church was quiet, but the silence was peaceful, not eerie. Tru opened her reticule. There was only one thing in it. She took out Charlotte Mackey’s brooch and held it in her palm for a long time, admiring it in the candlelight before she opened her coat and fastened it to her blouse just below her throat. It was heavy, and it tugged at the cotton fabric and pulled at the fragile clasp. She placed her hand over it to give it support. The stones were cool against her palm.

Tru folded the hand in her lap and bowed her head. Softly, she began to pray.

* * *

“What are you doing off in this corner by yourself, Marshal?” Jem Davis flicked the cards in his hand with his thumbnail. “You’re about as solitary as a man can be in a saloon. If you want to be alone, you should head on over to the church.”

Cobb used the toe of one boot to push out a chair. “Make yourself comfortable, Jem.”

He dropped into the chair and waved his brothers over. “You expecting trouble?”

“No. Praying for it.”

“Ah. I know the urge that comes over a man to hit somethin’ sometimes. You want, my brothers and I will oblige you by stirring up a fuss. Or you can go on down to Whistler’s. Doesn’t take much to start something there. Though I got to say, if there’s a ruckus, don’t put a glass in your pocket.”

Cobb’s smile was cool but not completely lacking in humor. “Have a care, Jem. That thing I want to hit? It could be you.”

Jake and Jessop chuckled as they took seats on either side of their brother. Jake took the cards out of Jem’s hand and began shuffling. “You want me to deal you in, Cobb?”

“No, my pockets aren’t as deep these days as they once were.”

“Deep enough to hold a glass.” This time all three brothers said it.

Cobb cocked an eyebrow at them. “I won’t hesitate to take out the Greek chorus.” He watched the Davis boys exchange confused glances, three square jaws shifting mightily to one side as they puzzled it out. “Forget it,” said Cobb. “Play cards.”

Cobb tipped his chair so the back rested against the wall and the two rear legs supported him. Lowering his hat a notch, he watched the card game under the shadow of his brim the same as he watched men coming and going from the Pennyroyal. He saw Frank Mackey enter the saloon from the hotel side a full minute before Jessop Davis spied him.

“Who’s that?” Jessop thrust his chin at the newcomer on his way to the bar. The question was not directed at anyone in particular, but when his brothers turned to look and shrugged in ignorance, Jessop settled his gaze on Cobb.

“His name’s Franklin Mackey. He’s from Chicago.”

“Brother to that other Mackey? There’s a resemblance, that’s for sure.”

“Cousin. Second. Third. Kissing. I don’t know. They’re related.” He saw the brothers trade grins this time and immediately wished he had not elaborated on the connection between Frank and Andrew—or at least that he had chosen his words more wisely.

“About kissing,” Jake said. “We heard Matt Sharp almost ran you and Miss Morrow down in the street.”

“Matt was innocent,” said Cobb, thinking he could correct some part of the story. “It was Miss Morrow who nearly stepped under the wagon wheel.”

Jem waved aside the particulars as unimportant and went to the heart of the matter. “Heard you were so tickled she wasn’t hurt that you kissed her within an inch of her life anyway.”

Cobb just stared at him.

Jem’s jaw slackened a fraction. He shrugged. “Leastways that’s what we heard.”

Jake poked his brother in the side. “Leave it.” He glanced back at the bar. “Hey. Why don’t we invite that Frank fella over to take up a hand?”

Jem and Jessop were on the point of agreeing when Cobb said, “No.”

They regarded Cobb with identically raised eyebrows. “Something wrong with him, Marshal?” asked Jessop.

“I like him better at a distance.” His eyes followed Frank from the bar to a table. “It looks as if Ted, Terry, and Harry Sample invited him to play. Who are the other two at their table? I don’t recognize them.”

Jake craned his neck to get a look. “The one beside Ted goes by the name of Billy Barry. He just signed on with our outfit over at the Pepperdine ranch. Helped us cut out some of the herd this morning and bring the cattle in this afternoon. Bit of a greenhorn but a hard worker. That fellow on the other side of Mackey is Beck. Don’t believe he told us any other name.”

“I asked him,” Jessop said. “He says Beck is all he answers to.”

“They’re not bad sorts,” Jem said conversationally. “They left their gun belts with Ed Ransom at the stockyard same as we did after Jake explained about the town’s ordinance. They didn’t seem to mind not carrying. Leastways they didn’t make a fuss.”

“Good to know,” Cobb said absently. He watched Frank take a chair at the table. There appeared to be brief but friendly introductions before Ted named the game and money was tossed into the pot. Ted started to shuffle. He wasn’t smooth. The cards were old, well used, and they jammed and stuck several times. Ted kept on talking, unaware or uncaring of his clumsy efforts or that the other players—at least the ones whose faces Cobb could see—were becoming impatient with his lack of attention. Cobb abruptly brought his chair down on all four legs as Frank reached inside his vest. Cobb’s hand hovered just above his holster. Frank pulled out a new deck of cards, held them up, and with the approval of everyone at the table, including Ted, passed them to Billy Barry who kept them instead of passing them along.

It was not until Cobb reset his chair in a comfortable tilt that he became aware that the Davis brothers were watching him with more wariness than interest. He heard Jake’s chuckle and recognized it as an uneasy one.

“For a moment there, it looked like you might have found something to hit,” said Jem.

Jessop nodded. “Yeah. With your gun.”

Rather than deny it, Cobb said, “The night’s still young.”

* * *

Frank swept his winnings to the growing pile in front of him. “Perhaps I should sit out a few hands,” he said. “And give someone else an opportunity to win. I seem to be extraordinarily lucky this evening.” His dark eyes swept the faces at the table. “Unless this is an example of Bitter Springs hospitality and all of you are welcoming the newcomer.”

Billy Barry clapped his hand firmly over Frank’s before he began stacking coins and bills. “I’m a newcomer myself. So is Beck. If there’s hospitality here, seems to me it needs to be spread around a bit more.” He released Frank’s hand. “The way it generally works in these parts is that the big winner stays at the table and gives the rest of us a chance to win some of our own back. There’s no shame in one of us gettin’ up if we’re done in, but there’d be considerable shame—to say nothin’ of trouble—if you was to do the same.” He made eye contact with every player. “Is that about right?”

“Well,” said Ted. “I don’t know if we take our game as seriously as—” He stopped because Billy Barry’s lips had thinned. “Well, yeah,” said Ted. “That sounds right.”

Billy nodded. “Beck, I seem to recall it’s your turn to deal.” He knuckled the ginger stubble along his sharp jaw as the other ranch hand gathered the cards. “Does this town have a barber? I don’t recollect seeing one. I’m not too happy with the shave Beck here gave me.” He showed off his chin side to side.

“Mr. Stillwell does the barbering,” said Terry. “Just down the street. He opens around eight. Ask for him. Dave Rogers might nick you. He doesn’t have the knack for it if you’re particular.”