Page 38

The Poignant Farewell

A steady drizzle fell from the dull gray sky, its patter blending with the hushed sobs of the mourners gathered around the gravesite.

The scent of fragrant wildflowers several of the women had picked for Fenton’s final resting place—orange hawkweed, buttercups, and black-eyed Susans—mixed with the earthy aroma of wet soil, and fresh-cut wood from the made-to-order casket.

Charlotte stood beneath a black umbrella, her heart heavy with grief.

Among the small gathering—except for the preacher, all Red Eye Saloon employees—tears mixed with raindrops on their somber faces.

The preacher’s words were kind but impersonal. How could they be anything else? He didn’t know Fen. Those who knew him best shared a story, some humorous, others heartfelt. Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to do so without breaking down but appreciated those who could.

Fen would have loathed the poignant farewell.

He would have preferred a toast with his best whiskey.

He once told her he wasn’t spiritual and only went to church for weddings and funerals.

She had been raised differently. With her in charge of his final send-off, she insisted on a preacher, and found solace in his plea for Fenton’s absolution.

Charlotte wiped away a tear—something else he would have hated—as she reflected on the times they had shared. Not all of them were bad. Beneath his often-gruff exterior, Fen had hidden a kind heart. She’d seen it. The others had witnessed it too; otherwise, they wouldn’t be here for him now.

When the service was over and everyone had filed out of the small public cemetery, Charlotte lingered while Fen’s casket was lowered into the ground, flinching as the first clump of wet dirt hit the wooden box. She stayed through it all until her feet grew wet from the puddle forming around her.

When the gravediggers finished, she laid the wildflowers she’d clutched in her hand on the grave, and, with a heavy heart, moved toward the gate.

When she looked up and saw the four Jackson women waiting just inside the fence, she halted.

Compassion shone on their faces, and Charlotte felt a swell of gratitude for their support.

Jenny, who she knew best from her brief stint playing piano at the Red Eye, stepped forward and hugged her close. “Please accept my condolences, Charlotte. Mr. Sneed’s booming bellows scared me half to death, but I know you were close.”

“Much of that was bluster,” she said in Fen’s defense.

“It was effective.”

“That’s why he did it so often,” Charlotte disclosed.

Wisteria moved forward next and gripped her hands. “I never know what to say at a time like this.”

“That’s because there are no words. I’ve been through it before, and it’s never easy.”

Janelle moved up next to her sisters-in-law, Leticia Jackson, mother-in-law to all three young women, beside her.

“What can we do?” the eldest Mrs. Jackson asked.

“Name it,” Janelle offered. “You’ve done so much for us. We want to be there for you, too.”

Overwhelmed by their kindness, a stark contrast to the treatment she’d received from the other decent folk in town, she blinked back tears. “Having you here means everything. But what will your husbands say?”

Jenny leaned in and murmured, “Nothing, if they’re smart.”

“Or you could ask them yourself,” Wisteria suggested, angling her head to the side.

When Charlotte looked in that direction, she saw a wall of tall, broad-shouldered Jackson men standing beside a covered surrey, and behind it a line of four horses.

She nodded her thanks to them.

“We consider you our friend, and so do they, no matter how much they grumble,” Leticia confided. She wrapped her arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home and out of this rain, dear. Maybe for a cup of hot tea.”

“The saloon is closed this evening. We’re having a gathering in Fen’s honor. I’d invite you all, but…” She glanced meaningfully at their husbands.

“Their heads would explode?” Janelle suggested.

Leave it to Janelle to be frank. “Exactly,” Charlotte murmured.

“How about a ride home, if nothing else?” the matriarch offered.

“I’ll see her home, Mrs. Jackson.”

Startled, Leticia turned. “Sheriff Walker. I didn’t see you there?”

“I just arrived.”

“Any luck finding Thorn?” Aaron Jackson inquired, as he, along with his brothers and father, gathered around the sheriff for news of the manhunt.

“Not yet, but I will,” he replied, his jaw set in grim determination. He turned to Charlotte and surprised her with an apology. “I regret not being here for the service, but I was following up on a lead. Unfortunately, it didn’t pan out.”

His usually neatly trimmed beard was scruffy, and he was wearing the same clothes as the last time she saw him. He looked like he hadn’t slept. “Have you been out all night?” she asked.

“The past two, actually. I came back to round up more men. My two deputies need to get some shut-eye, and they’ll need to relieve the ones we left here on duty.”

“Don’t you need sleep too?” Charlotte asked.

“I’m used to going without on the trail.”

“Count us in,” Heath, the eldest brother, volunteered before being asked directly.

“I’ll see if Joseph is up for a hunt,” Luke said.

Still new to town, Seth asked, “Is that another brother?”

“He might as well be,” Heath replied. “Joseph Whitefeather is our ranch foreman and the best tracker around. We’ve needed his skills for personal matters lately, more often than any of us care to recall.”

“Convince him to join us,” Seth urged, then cursed softly. “I can’t believe Thorn’s still breathing. I hauled him in ten years ago for armed robbery and killing a bank teller.”

“I did some checking. Everyone in Omaha thought he should hang, except the jury,” Aaron informed them.

“He was serving a life sentence but escaped when transferring to a different prison last year. Since then, his crimes have mounted. He’s wanted for countless robberies, each more brazen than the last, and at least three murders—four if you count Fenton Sneed.

” When his fiercely determined gaze locked on Seth, he looked less like a politician and more like the seasoned lawman.

“You don’t need me to tell you he’s dangerous. How many more men will you need?”

“The three of you should do, especially if your foreman joins us.” He settled his hand on her back, the heat seeping through her clothes. “Once I see Charlotte home, we’ll head out. There’s a place I know north of Cheyenne. It’s secluded. He might be lying low there.”

The Jackson men nodded, moving with their womenfolk toward the surrey. All except Henry.

“Don’t you worry, little missy. Our new sheriff is experienced hunting fugitives,” he assured her. “He’ll find the killer and bring him to justice.”

“I hope so, Mr. Jackson, because this isn’t the first time he’s killed someone dear to me.”

Her comment stopped the others, who turned, staring at her in surprise.

“I wasn’t aware you knew Thorn before this,” Aaron said.

While she addressed the mayor, her eyes locked with Seth’s, providing more details than even he knew.

“Emmett and I go back a long way. Thirteen years, in fact, when he shot my husband point-blank in the chest and he died at my feet, just like Fen. Making me a widow and robbing every man and woman on that train that day wasn’t enough for him.

He looked at me and saw gold, which is why he abducted me and sold me to the most notorious brothel in St. Louis, making me what I am today. ”

“The man is the devil incarnate,” Henry declared, brimming with outrage on her behalf.

“Oh, Charlotte,” Janelle whispered, raising trembling fingers to her mouth.

“He walked away, laughing, after Carson, after Fen, and didn’t bat an eye when he left me in the hands of a ruthless madam, and to an even crueler fate.

His laughter has haunted my dreams ever since,” she admitted.

She looked from the former lawman turned mayor to the man who had taken his place.

“I’ve always thought rotting in jail was a more just punishment than death.

Not anymore. Emmett Thorn stole the lives of two men dear to me.

Carson and Fenton deserve justice. As for me, I look forward to the day I get to watch him walk to the gallows, fear in his eyes at facing his maker, and I won’t shed a tear when he hangs. ”

Silence enveloped the group as the horror of her story sank in.

“I’ll ride with you, too, Sheriff,” Henry Jackson declared. “That varmint needs to be stopped for good.”

“Someone needs to stay and look after the ranch, Pa,” his son Luke called. “And after our women. Knowing them, they’ll be armed for bear, riding hell bent for leather, and arrive in Cheyenne before we do.”

“You read my mind, husband,” Wisteria quietly replied, Charlotte’s story hitting closest to home with her, after her unwilling stay at Madam Josephine’s.

“Meet me at the jailhouse at noon,” Seth directed the men.

“If not sooner,” Heath declared, assisting Jenny into the carriage before heading to his horse. Aaron, Luke, and Henry did the same and were riding toward Silverbend in minutes.

“The rain is picking up. We should get going, too.” Seth guided her to his horse. Charlotte was about to close her umbrella so he could boost her up, but he stayed her hand and dipped under it with her.

“I have a confession, too. Me and Thorn go back years.”

She blinked away the raindrops from her eyes and lashes as she waited for him to continue. So long, she thought he wouldn’t.

“Only a few in town know this about me, but I think you deserve the truth. He rode with us for a short time,” he finally admitted.

“Us? I don’t understand.”

“My father was Deadeye Bill Hartigan, an outlaw. People hereabouts called the men who rode with him the Hartigan Gang.”

Charlotte jerked away from him, horrified. “You were on the train with them?”

“No. I was in Cheyenne hundreds of miles from there. We’d lost my father, shot during a bank job, and were taking some time to regroup.

We joined up for another job about a month after—our first without Deadeye Bill—and things went bad.

That’s why I was at the Pleasure Palace the night of the fire. My brother Judd was shot.”

“I’d been there for a week by that time,” she said, relieved Seth wasn’t involved. “But I don’t understand. How does an outlaw become a lawman?”

“It happens more times than you’d think. My brother died that night, and it was the last job for me. We were thieves, Charlotte, no denying it, but we didn’t do the vile things Thorn seemed to take glee in.”

“I was only twenty-one when my pa and Judd died. I needed to earn a living. Robbing banks was all I ever knew. But I was good with a gun, and a surprisingly good tracker. Bounty hunting made sense, and it became a full-time job. Henry said I’m the best of the best, but that isn’t true, or Thorn wouldn’t still be terrorizing you. ”

“It isn’t your fault he escaped.”

“It is, actually. I had the option of bringing him in dead or alive. I chose wrong,” he said, a dark determination shadowing his features.

“Herny wasn’t wrong. Thorn is the devil incarnate.

I think he had something to do with my uncle’s death.

As for my brother, he would have left him to bleed out in the dirt without batting an eye.

And there’s no forgiveness in Heaven or on Earth for what he did to you. ”

She gripped his forearm, her fingers digging in. “Find him and end this—for us both.”

“I won’t rest until that happens, Charlotte.” He laid his hand on her cheek, his touch gentle as he asked, “Am I mistaken thinking that’s not your real name?”

She closed her eyes, the pain of losing who she was, still sharp to this day. “My parents named their daughter Rowena Charlotte. But she died on a St. Louis-bound train a long time ago.”

His voice was husky with intensity when he vowed, “What happened to you is damn unfair, but a reckoning is coming. I swear it is. For now, let’s get you home.”

Had she ever considered the Red Eye, much less Laramie, in that light?

Only one place had ever been home in her heart, but it was forever lost. The trajectory of her life took her from cherished daughter to unwanted burden, to wife, chattel, and, ultimately, to survivor.

Now, with Fenton gone, it was about to change again, and she faced the future alone.

The sheriff lifted her into the saddle then swung up behind her. With his arms surrounding her, she leaned back against his broad chest. When was the last time she felt protected?

Fen did his best, but look how his life ended. Carson was as green as she was heading west, and much too young. She hadn’t felt truly safe since before her mama died.

A raindrop trickled down her cheek, followed by another, and another. She wiped them away, but soon they were coming too fast to keep up with. When one dripped off her chin and splashed on the back of her hand, the warmth made her realize it wasn’t rain.

Seth held her tighter, his lips brushing her hair, but remained silent, which she appreciated.

Words would only make things worse. Sobbing in his arms didn’t fit the strong, capable image she wanted to portray.

His presence was enough as the tears flowed endlessly.

They were for Fenton, for Carson—denied a proper burial and a last farewell—for all those in her life she’d loved and lost, and for herself.