dove for his weapon, and Bernie never thought twice about pulling the trigger. In one piercing shot, Sam Spalding, the lowest scum of the earth, was on his way to hear his Maker’s final judgement. The body rolled over and lay still and the room held a deathly silence.

He raced to where Janelle stood against the wall, bound and unconscious. Lifting her body, the ropes slid off the nail and she tumbled into his arms. Carrying her to a cot, he covered her shivering body with an old blanket. He permitted himself one brief embrace before turning to the mess on the floor. Janelle did not need that to be the first thing she saw when her eyes opened.

Sam’s carcass was wrapped in another of the wool blankets, frayed and riddled with holes. Bernie threw the corpse over his shoulder and went outside. The horse neighed in irritation as the body was slung across the saddle. Using the same ropes Sam had to bind Janelle, Bernie secured the body around the horse’s belly so he wouldn’t fall off. Deputy Will would be surprised to see them ride in. Or maybe he wouldn’t. During his brief visit to the jailhouse, it had sounded like keeping the peace was the sole objective of the lawman and he didn’t care who pulled the trigger, as long as the mischief-makers paid for their debt to society. Bernie thought he could grow to like such a man, and for the first time wondered how it felt to have a real friend. A drifter didn’t take the time to buddy-up, but if he stayed in Belle maybe the ghosts of loneliness that inhabited his soul would finally go away.

Janelle had said that she liked the fact that he loved her. He wondered if she could feel the same way. Her first marriage had been happy, ill-suited for one another, but loving just the same. A woman’s heart was a fragile thing and he hoped she’d find the frontier strength to move forward and not get stuck in the mourning of yesterday. He tied the animal to a post, close to some hay, just as the door flung open and Janelle stood on the threshold with the rifle pointed his way.

Bernie raised his hands and yelled to the half-crazed woman. “Janelle, it’s me – don’t shoot!”

The weapon wobbled but he saw her glazed eyes and wondered if she’d crossed the line to the other side of sanity in one day.

“Janelle, Sam is dead. He won’t hurt you ever again. Please, put the gun down and go back inside. It’s cold and your finger is trembling on the trigger.”

Sluggish, as if in a trance, she lowered the rifle and Bernie started toward her. Somewhere in the middle, recognition filtered through her eyes and she burst into tears. Turning, she raced inside and slammed the door. Her actions baffled Bernie but he chased in behind her. She twirled around to face him.

“Don’t you look at me!”

“Why not? What’s the matter, Janelle?”

“You can take that devil-man away then keep drifting. There’s no purity left in me.” She wrapped a blanket around her and sat in a chair rocking back and forth, murmuring. “Need to get home to Davey.”

“Davey will be fine until we get there. Town folk won’t leave him standing out in the cold.”

“Whatever will I tell him?” She broke down crying. “His Ma is tarnished and not fit for a good man, a decent father. Such a wee boy to carry the heavy responsibility.”

Her confusion sunk into Bernie’s thick skull. He raced to where she sat and fell on his knees in front of her, disregarding the sorrow in her eyes. “Janelle, you got it all wrong. Sam hit and tied you to the wall but you were unconscious. Nothing happened – I promise. I watched from the window ‘til he put down his guns and his pants were half to his knees then barged in. Sam had no chance. He nose-dived for his gun and I shot him.” Bernie gazed into her face attempting to see beyond the disbelief. “I swear it. He gave you a bad scare but he didn’t violate you.”

“He didn’t?” her voice squeaked. “Why do I feel so dirty?”

“It’s been a bad day, Janelle, but the sun will come up bright tomorrow and eventually you’ll forget that men like him exist in this world.”

She began to shake with sobs and he drew her close to him. She didn’t fight the comfort but sunk into it and Bernie wanted nothing more than to love and protect this woman for the rest of his life. But now was hardly the time to propose to the woman. The Lord would give him a better day and he felt content to wait on that.

“When you’re feeling better, we’ll go home. Then I’ll beat it off to town and deliver the body to the undertaker. Need to pick up your son, too.” Janelle sniffed and Bernie gave her a hanky from his pocket. “Might not be too clean, but neither are you,” he said. She rewarded him with the trace of a smile.

“It’ll do fine, Bernie.”

“You can have yourself a nice long bath at the cabin and tuck in bed early. I’ll treat Davey to supper at Belle’s café and after chores I’ll get him settled in his room for the night. I’ll tell him you had a bad fall and needed to lie down. By morning you’ll be back to your old self and you can get working on that birthday dress.”

Janelle almost began to cry again. “I so wanted to have it half done by tonight.”

“You’ve got all week until Saturday, that is if the dance is still on?”

“It is, Bernie Drysdale and the dress will be completed if I have to stay up every night until midnight.”

“You could wear a sugar bag

Вы читаете From Mourning to Joy
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату
×