“Why didn’t you tell us all this when we first started questioning you instead of saying you had never been near Brownville?” the sheriff asked.
Hank looked down, then drew in a defeated breath and huffed it out. “Because…I’ve been on the run since last March—over a false charge” he persisted as his head shot up, his forthright eyes connecting with each person in the room, “—and I just got used to keeping my identity and whereabouts a secret.” He looked at Mary and her heart went out to him. “I snuck back to Lincoln, but…”
“That can wait,” Keith interrupted, stepping forward and grasping Hank by the arm. “We need to take him out there and see what Swigert says before we can take this any further.”
Mary looked around at these men who had become her friends over the months since she’d arrived. Now, they seemed like strangers. Hard-as-nails lawmen. As she watched, her eyes swimming with a myriad of emotions, these lawmen marshaled her brother out the door, followed by her husband’s employer, leaving the two of them standing in the office.
She looked up at Dwight, and the sympathy in his eyes was almost her undoing. He looked as if he believed Hank was guilty and he was worried how the knowledge would affect her. “He didn’t do it on purpose, Dwight! He didn’t! I know my brother! He…he might have a bit of a temper, but he would never intentionally hurt someone like that!”
Her husband reached out and caressed her face with a finger, keeping his words gentle. “Desperate people can sometimes do desperate things, Mary…” but he stopped himself from saying more, probably because her eyes were overflowing with tears again. She had only just found her brother—she couldn’t lose him immediately after! Lord! How can you do this to me!
“Come on, I’ll get you home and then I’ll go out to Swigert’s with the others. Then, I give you my word, I’ll come straight to Doc’s and tell you what Swigert said.”
Aching to go along, but knowing how uncomfortable that would be, Mary reluctantly agreed and allowed her husband to take her home.
She knew without a doubt that the next few hours would be the longest of her life.
Dwight was so nervous, one would think it was him that was under suspicion, and not his wife’s brother. All the way out to the Swigert farm he silently prayed, over and over, that Robinson had been telling the truth, because the alternative—that he had purposely shoved Swigert out of the loft—would be devastating for Mary. It might even cause her to lose the baby. Please God, no…
The wagon clattered to a halt in front of the Swigert’s front porch, and the door promptly opened to reveal pleasant, quiet Helen Swigert, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Gentlemen?” she asked.
Sheriff Dave climbed down off his horse and approached the door, removing his Stetson as he went.
“Mrs. Swigert. How’re things going? How’s Jay?”
She nodded at him, eyeing the other men curiously. “He’s doing a little better every day, Sheriff,” she answered. “Last night, he even slept through the night without waking and asking for any laudanum.”
“That’s good,” the sheriff said, and then turned to his men and motioned for them to bring the prisoner…Hank…forward. “I’ve got a man here that I’d like for Jay to see if he recognizes.” Tobias and Keith worked together to help him down from the wagon, since his hands were still shackled.
Helen’s eyes widened as she took a good look at Hank—but of course, she’d never seen his face before, since he had escaped out the back door of the barn. She did know, however, that she might be coming face to face with the man who had tried to kill her husband—and almost succeeded. Dwight wondered if the woman might fly at Hank in a rage, but her body merely went rigid and she gave a jerky nod of her head. “Of…of course. Right this way, Sheriff.”
The party went into the log cabin, that was neat as a pin, and Mrs. Swigert led the way to one of the two small bedrooms added onto the back. Her younger children were playing with toys on a rug in front of the hearth. Dwight realized the oldest son was probably at school. He smiled and sent the kids a wave of greeting and they smiled back, calling, “Hey, Mr. Dwight!”
The sheriff went in first. Dwight and David moved out of the way as the two deputies maneuvered Hank to Swigert’s bedside.
Jay Swigert was sitting up in the bed, his back reclined against several pillows, trying to read a ledger with only one hand to keep it straight on his lap. His left subordinate hand was being put to awkward use as his right arm was encased in a heavy cast that spanned from his hand all the way up to his shoulder. It was propped up against more pillows to allow the breaks in the shoulder, arm, wrist, and hand to heal. Dwight could see the man’s legs were still in their casts and he remembered hearing that Swigert’s neighbors took turns helping Helen take care of her husband’s private needs. Dwight knew that Doc wanted the man to keep the leg casts on at least another month, since the breaks were so extensive.
A shiver of sympathy reverberated over Dwight’s own body at the thought of what this innocent man had been forced to endure, and he sent up a quick, heartfelt prayer for his quick recovery. Then, a feeling of guilt swept over him that he’d slacked off from praying for the man and he vowed to hold himself to a higher standard.
“Jay, hope this is a good day for you,” Sheriff Dave began. “I’ve got a man here I want you to take a look at, to see
