She glared into his hard eyes.
“You following me, Sarah?” he demanded. “I know he was kin, but the balance is paid. You gonna give me your word that you’ll let a sleeping dog lie? Or do I gear up for a string of vendetta killings that tears this city apart?”
Sarah ground her teeth.
“Where does it end?” Dave Cook asked softly as they pulled up in front of Doc’s. A small crowd had gathered, all talking among themselves.
“All right,” she lied, her heart like a stone in her chest. “It ends here.”
Dave seemed to smell her rat. His eyes narrowed. Then he asked, “What about you, crazy man? You give me your word as, what was it you said? An officer and a gentleman?”
“If Sarah does,” Butler said softly. He paused, his voice changing as it did when he talked to the men. “It’s because of Paw, Corporal. Everything goes back to Paw.”
Sarah eased her wounded leg down from the seat, ignoring the onlookers, and limped, seething, into Doc’s office.
He sat in his chair behind the desk, cheek propped on a hand. She could see the raw red where his bonds had chafed the skin on his wrists.
“Philip? Are you all right?”
“I’ll never be all right.” He looked at her, a desolate emptiness behind his pale eyes. “He winked at me as they were carrying him out. The way they were holding him, it had to hurt like thunder, but he winked at me. Told me it was all right.”
She stepped forward. “In a pig’s eye. They lynched our brother!” She glanced back to see Butler closing the door behind him. Through the window she could see Dave Cook driving away. “I’ll need to have a talk with Big Ed and have his—”
“Let it go, Sarah,” Doc whispered.
“Philip?”
“These stranglers? What they did? It was a kindness.”
“Are you as crazy as Butler?”
He shook his head. “I’m as sane as I’ve ever been.” A flicker of a smile died. “After the things he told me? I’d make a terrible priest. I’d wave my hand and say, ‘Go forth, my child, and throw your sinning soul off the nearest cliff.’”
She struggled for words, trying to understand.
“Billy was hurting, Sarah.” Philip seemed to choke back tears. “Deep down in his soul. In a place where there was no healing. He wanted it over.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me. Because I have been there. So many times.” He raised a hand, stalling her protest. “Sarah, the difference is that I wasn’t haunted by the men and women I’d murdered. I might have been miserable when I wanted to die, but I wasn’t condemned by my own self-loathing.”
“Holy sweet Jesus,” she murmured, dropping limply onto the bench. “What did I do to him when I left him?”
“Nothing,” Doc told her. “If you’ve got to go back to the beginning, it was when I caught Paw with Sally. Hell, maybe it goes clear back to him marrying Maw.”
“Or back to the mountains,” Butler said. His gaze flicked to the side. “You heard him, Sergeant, he started destroying people early on.”
Sarah clamped her hands against her ears, leaning forward, feeling sick. Moments later she felt Doc settle beside her, his arm going around her shoulder.
“Someone needs to see to arrangements for Billy,” Butler said, walking over to the desk. “He’s going to need a coffin. This time of year, warm as it is, we don’t want to tarry. Since it’s the Fourth of July, John Walley won’t be staying at his office for long. He’s going to need to find gravediggers. I’ll see if we can’t have the service tomorrow.”
Sarah was barely aware of Butler pulling Doc’s drawer open, removing the cash box. Her soul felt as if it were bruised, raw, and floating. There were things she needed to tell Billy. Confessions of the heart she would never be able to make now.
Butler rifled through the cash box, rattling coins, and stuffed his pocket full. Then he closed the tin box, replaced it, and shut the drawer.
“I’ll be back,” he promised, before shooting a glance at the men. Then he was gone, the bell ringing as he closed the door.
Doc pulled his arm tighter around Sarah’s shoulders as they sat in silence. Not since Bret had held her had any human offered her comfort.
God, I’m lonely.
And sad.
And tired.
She was wondering when it would ever end. Which was when Doc jerked upright, every muscle going tense. “The box!”
Sarah shifted. “What box?”
But Doc was on his feet, flying to the desk, clawing at the drawer. He ripped out the cash box, opened it, and stared in horror.
“Doc? What’s wrong?” she demanded.
“He’s got the candy!”
His face blanched with panic, Doc flung himself at the door. Wrenching it open, he raced out into the morning, crying, “No! Dear God, No!”
130
July 4, 1868
Butler tried to ignore the men as they trooped along at the edge of his vision. The saloons were going full blast. With the exception of the merchants trying to capitalize on folks come to town for the holiday, most businesses were closed. Horses, buggies, and carriages didn’t exactly clog the streets, but traffic was brisk.
The sound of Federal martial music filled the air. He could tell it bothered the men, but secession and the war had forever changed the way the Fourth was celebrated. And Denver had been a Union town, having spawned the Colorado Volunteers.
Butler could feel Kershaw hanging just behind him and out of sight as he made his way down the boardwalk, tipping his hat on occasion to the ladies, and trying to sort out the conflicting emotions in his breast.
Ruffians had murdered his brother in the night. Tied a rope around his neck and tossed him off a bridge. God knew he’d seen plenty of that during the war. Even been party to it when it came to deserters and spies.
It wasn’t as if young Billy hadn’t deserved it. If
