Byrnes, to testify. Then I want the rest of you to go read what she wrote on that sheet and testify as well. Doc has her covered up. You wouldn’t want to see the poor woman anyway.”
He took the half glass of whiskey and thanked Chet. “Times like this, I’d rather have a small-town law practice.”
Numb, Chet started for home. Porter ran out and shouted for him to stop. “I’m sorry, Byrnes. I never had chance to thank you for all you did for me today. I’d found her like that, I’d’a been a screaming imbecile.”
They shook hands and Chet rode on. He was one—a screaming imbecile. All his planning to sneak in there and they’d still seen him. Must have been obvious as all get out.
“What’s wrong?” Susie asked, running out to meet him in the cold predawn. “I can tell by your look like something bad’s happened last night.”
He nodded woodenly. “They murdered Marla Porter.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you more later.”
“Heck will put up your horse. Come in and set down. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have.”
“Who would murder her?”
“She wrote his name in blood on the sheet.”
“Oh, my God. Who was it?”
“Kenny Reynolds.”
“You found her?”
“Raped and murdered—Doc said.”
“Why would anyone—”
“Revenge.” He dropped his chin in defeat.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I never knew.”
He handed her the partial note. “I found this, too.”
After she read it, she collapsed on the sofa. “What will we do?”
He shook his head. “I have no answer.”
Chapter 11
Chet was grateful that Susie was with him walking from the schoolhouse to the cemetery behind the pallbearers and Marla’s people. A cold north wind blew out of Kansas and swept across the Indian Territory and north Texas to get to them. It tugged at their clothing and tried to tear folks’ blanket wraps away from them. The kind of cold that penetrated like a wood bee bored in wood.
Jake was wet-eyed helping his frail seventy-year-old mother up the path. Chet felt grateful he’d never shown him the farewell letter that Marla had started to write. The mourners stood up on the open hill with their backs to the hard breath of winter. Chet couldn’t believe any one was cruel enough to murder good horses, but to do what they did to Marla was monstrous.
The preacher’s words sounded strained. “Dear God, we send you this lovely woman and wife, her life cut short at the hands of a killer…”
His words went on and on. But Chet expected it. Even the chilling force pressing them down was not enough for him to shorten his finale at the grave site. Chet had been there before in driving rain that half filled the grave before the preacher finished—but the preacher never shortened his call to save everyone. Maybe he got his saved souls from those that couldn’t stand another ten minutes of his words.
After the service, Chet and Susie rode home in silence. The boys had gone on.
“It was a fine service,” Susie said.
“I’m sure she would have felt that way. She always worried how she would be shunned if she divorced him. Said it was easier for a man than it was for a woman.”
“I imagine she was right. She needed a connection with other women, and to be excluded might have been a severe thing for her.”
“I came so close—those damn Reynolds—” He clucked to the team and sent them trotting off.
“Spoilers, I’d call them.”
“Worse than that. I can hardly wait for the hearing in the morning.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Good, maybe I can keep my anger under control. Louise take the poncho I bought for her?”
“Certainly, it was nice of you to think of her. I guess a blanket would have done for me. She’s fancier than that.”
“No, she’s fussier than you are.”
They both laughed and dropped downhill to the ford. He recalled those boys waiting in hiding for his bunch to arrive that day—made him mad all over. But the crossing was uneventful, and soon the
He took the half glass of whiskey and thanked Chet. “Times like this, I’d rather have a small-town law practice.”
Numb, Chet started for home. Porter ran out and shouted for him to stop. “I’m sorry, Byrnes. I never had chance to thank you for all you did for me today. I’d found her like that, I’d’a been a screaming imbecile.”
They shook hands and Chet rode on. He was one—a screaming imbecile. All his planning to sneak in there and they’d still seen him. Must have been obvious as all get out.
“What’s wrong?” Susie asked, running out to meet him in the cold predawn. “I can tell by your look like something bad’s happened last night.”
He nodded woodenly. “They murdered Marla Porter.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you more later.”
“Heck will put up your horse. Come in and set down. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have.”
“Who would murder her?”
“She wrote his name in blood on the sheet.”
“Oh, my God. Who was it?”
“Kenny Reynolds.”
“You found her?”
“Raped and murdered—Doc said.”
“Why would anyone—”
“Revenge.” He dropped his chin in defeat.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I never knew.”
He handed her the partial note. “I found this, too.”
After she read it, she collapsed on the sofa. “What will we do?”
He shook his head. “I have no answer.”
Chapter 11
Chet was grateful that Susie was with him walking from the schoolhouse to the cemetery behind the pallbearers and Marla’s people. A cold north wind blew out of Kansas and swept across the Indian Territory and north Texas to get to them. It tugged at their clothing and tried to tear folks’ blanket wraps away from them. The kind of cold that penetrated like a wood bee bored in wood.
Jake was wet-eyed helping his frail seventy-year-old mother up the path. Chet felt grateful he’d never shown him the farewell letter that Marla had started to write. The mourners stood up on the open hill with their backs to the hard breath of winter. Chet couldn’t believe any one was cruel enough to murder good horses, but to do what they did to Marla was monstrous.
The preacher’s words sounded strained. “Dear God, we send you this lovely woman and wife, her life cut short at the hands of a killer…”
His words went on and on. But Chet expected it. Even the chilling force pressing them down was not enough for him to shorten his finale at the grave site. Chet had been there before in driving rain that half filled the grave before the preacher finished—but the preacher never shortened his call to save everyone. Maybe he got his saved souls from those that couldn’t stand another ten minutes of his words.
After the service, Chet and Susie rode home in silence. The boys had gone on.
“It was a fine service,” Susie said.
“I’m sure she would have felt that way. She always worried how she would be shunned if she divorced him. Said it was easier for a man than it was for a woman.”
“I imagine she was right. She needed a connection with other women, and to be excluded might have been a severe thing for her.”
“I came so close—those damn Reynolds—” He clucked to the team and sent them trotting off.
“Spoilers, I’d call them.”
“Worse than that. I can hardly wait for the hearing in the morning.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Good, maybe I can keep my anger under control. Louise take the poncho I bought for her?”
“Certainly, it was nice of you to think of her. I guess a blanket would have done for me. She’s fancier than that.”
“No, she’s fussier than you are.”
They both laughed and dropped downhill to the ford. He recalled those boys waiting in hiding for his bunch to arrive that day—made him mad all over. But the crossing was uneventful, and soon the
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