“That’s a dirty lie!” Jasper started for him, but Will held an arm out.
“Don’t. It’s not worth it.”
Suddenly weary, Will looked for a place to sit. He was tired of fighting. Tired of running. If he met his end at the end of a rope thanks to Ben’s lies, so be it. Will’s conscience was clear. He’d meet his Maker knowing he was innocent and knowing that instead of taking a life, he’d saved it. He trusted the instinct that said his actions honored God, and he’d like to think that, just as it said in Hebrews about faith being a man’s credit to righteousness, God would credit this to Will’s.
If there was anything to regret, it was that he couldn’t tell Mary how he felt about her. In the flames, all he could see was that he loved her. He’d tried to tell himself it was admiration and respect. Sure, those two things played a part in his feelings, because after all, a man couldn’t love a woman he didn’t admire and respect.
Jasper seemed to sense his need and led him to a crate. “Here. You can sit here. The marshal asked us to stick around. I figure we ought to oblige him, given that maybe saving his life might account for something in keeping us out of trouble.”
“That’s not why I saved him.”
“I know,” Jasper said solemnly, nodding in the direction of Ben, who remained lying on the ground. “You’re a good man, Will Lawson. And even if people want to believe the dirty lies about you, there are people who know the truth, people who are honored to call you friend.”
Will thought back to Mary and how he refused to express his feelings for her because he couldn’t give her a respectable life. If he hanged, it wouldn’t matter, because there’d be no life at all. Earlier, Jasper had chided him for not letting his friends help him. For not letting his friends make their own decisions about his character.
If Will had one more chance to see Mary, he’d give her the same opportunity. A woman deserved to know when a man admired, respected and, yes, loved her. Mayhap it would all be for naught, but Mary needed to have the choice.
Will closed his eyes. The heat from the burning building was almost scalding. Would it feel this way to hang? Or would it be worse?
The crunch of gravel interrupted Will’s thoughts. He opened them to see the marshal standing before him.
“Marshal.”
“Lawson.”
“Ben’s over there. He needs a doctor.” Will barely had the energy to move his head.
The marshal made a motion with his arm, and Will realized a number of men were already tending to Ben.
“Ben says he has evidence that proves your involvement in the Century City robbery.”
“He thinks he does,” Will said slowly. “But a man’s got to wonder how Ben seems to know so much about a crime he didn’t commit.”
The marshal seemed to think for a moment as he gazed at the burning building. “A man does have to wonder. I’ve been following the activities of Ben’s gang for a while now.”
“When I asked for the marshal’s office to look into Ben’s activities, I was told their hands were tied.”
Marshal Whitaker shrugged. “You know we can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. And you were a suspect.”
Were. As though there might be a chance Will was in the clear.
“And now?”
“Seems to me a guilty man would have run. But I’ve been dogging your tail long enough as you’ve tracked Ben to realize that you’ve been doing your best to help us catch him.”
Will watched as a group of men carried Ben off on a makeshift stretcher. By the time the other man told his tale, most people would look at Will with more askance glances than he’d been receiving since the accusations first began. Even if he went to trial and was exonerated, there’d always be some people who thought him guilty. Either way, Will would never be able to walk around without a stain on his honor.
Especially since the marshal hadn’t said Will was off the hook.
“I’ve got Rusty Horton around front demanding your arrest. He claims he’s got definitive proof that you were involved in the bank robbery.”
Will didn’t have the heart to fight it. He pulled aside his jacket to reveal his father’s gun. “This is the gun used in the Century City Robbery. I found it on Colt this evening, and I took it. I reckon it’s my word against his, but until tonight, I haven’t seen the gun since before it was used in the bank robbery.”
The marshal paused in thought again. “I suppose, though, if the evidence burned up in that fire, I wouldn’t have anything to hold you on.”
Will thought about the gun he’d slipped into his holster. He had Jasper to back up his story, even if the law wouldn’t listen to what Mary and Rose had to say. But would it be enough?
“I have too much respect for the law to destroy evidence,” Will said.
With a loud rush, the rest of the building caved in with a burst of flame and smoke.
“It’s not too late,” the marshal said. “I believe you, but I can’t guarantee you’ll get a fair trial.”
The trouble with being convicted by the Holy Spirit to do the right thing was that it didn’t hold any guarantees of not facing human consequences. He had to do the right thing, no matter what the cost.
“I know. But I can’t live with the thought of having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
At least this way, Will knew he’d done everything he could to keep his integrity intact.
“I’m gonna have to take you in.” The man said the words slowly, sounding as if he regretted them deeply. But Dean Whitaker was the kind of lawman who followed the law, and as much as he believed in Will’s innocence, he had to
