Rhonda Gibson - The Marshal's Promise

Rebecca hated that look. She’d seen it in the eyes of her father’s friends many times after he’d remarried, and it wasn’t a look she ever wanted to see again. “I think I’d rather have a breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind. I would like to go for a walk.” She pulled her wool shawl from the peg by the door and looked to Mrs. Miller.

“Go on, child. You have much to think about.” Mrs. Miller pushed her immense body out of the chair and headed toward the kitchen. “Grace, come with me. You can peel potatoes for supper.”

Rebecca slipped out the door and gently closed it behind her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her thoughts twisted in her mind as worry and doubt left her feeling faint. She sank into the chair beside the door.

She lowered her head and hid her face in her hands. She and Jesse had been planning to buy a small farm, raise fruit trees and chickens once they were married. Rebecca sighed, but now Jesse was gone and thanks to her stepmother, she couldn’t go home.

Before her mother died, Rebecca’s life had been one of ease and love. Her father, a businessman, enjoyed the warmth of their home as much as she and her sister had, so it had been no surprise that he’d remarried shortly after her mother’s death.

After that day, life had changed for Rebecca. Her jealous stepmother had kept her busy and away from her only living parent. She’d made her feel uncomfortable in the only home she’d ever known. The woman had been sweet in the presence of her husband and vinegar in his absence.

By the time her stepmother had forced her to answer the mail-order-bride ad that Jesse had placed, she’d been ready to leave. She was ready to get away and start a family of her own.

Rebecca desired someone to love her, to make her feel safe and wanted again. She’d thought Jesse Cole was the answer to her prayers. He’d seemed to be stable and to know what he wanted out of life. His letters had promised security and love. Now she knew that wasn’t to be, at least not with Jesse.

She missed her father and longed to go home, if only he would stand up to her stepmother. Rebecca knew that would never happen. No, she had to figure out what to do, on her own and with no help from her father.

Lord, what am I going to do now? I don’t want to go home and I’m not sure how I will be able to stay here. Why did Jesse have to die?

* * *

Seth hated days like today. The shattered look in her eyes had revealed that Rebecca Ramsey felt as if all were lost. Why hadn’t Jesse just surrendered? He would have been in jail, but at least he would have been alive.

Jesse had begged Seth as he bled out from his gut wound, “Please watch for Rebecca Ramsey, Marshal. She was to be my bride.” Their last conversation continued to play in his mind. “She didn’t do anything to deserve this. I really wanted to start a fresh life with her. Please take care of her. Please!”

The easy gait of the horse allowed Seth to recall his answer. “I’ll see that she’s taken care of, Jesse.”

Jesse clutched his shirt and pulled him closer. “Don’t let Maxwell or any of the Evans gang near her. They’ll try to take her.”

Jesse’s fear for Rebecca was real and Seth found himself saying the words he knew the dying man wanted to hear. “I’ll protect her, Jesse. That’s a promise.”

With Seth’s words, peace entered the young man’s eyes and then Jesse Cole took his final breath. Twenty-two was too young to die. Jesse had only been three years younger than himself. Seth shook his head at the sadness of the past week.

Memories of Jesse flooded his mind. Jesse had arrived in Cottonwood Springs six years ago. Nobody knew anything about him, just that he worked hard at the livery where old man Rodgers had given him a job. Then he’d taken up with Maxwell Evans and his brother. For four years he’d run with Maxwell, his brother Clod and Horace Nance.

The four men made up the Evans gang. They had been more a nuisance than a real gang. They’d stolen small things and the men of Cottonwood Springs didn’t feel the need to press charges against them. Boys will be boys, as the old saying goes. Old man Rodgers died one night and Jesse moved in with Maxwell.

And then one night Jesse ran into Reverend James Griffin and found the Lord. Jesse turned his life around that night; he started working on the Vaughan farm just a couple of miles out of town. The other Evans gang members hadn’t been thrilled with the turnabout and they’d given the Vaughan family plenty of trouble.

Over the next two years the Evans gang had grown and become braver. Their crimes had developed into more serious transgressions. With each passing year, Maxwell had become more dangerous.

Seth hadn’t been surprised when they’d robbed the bank in Durango. What had surprised him was when the smoke cleared, Jesse had been the one left to die on the bank floor. He shook his head again. Jesse hadn’t even carried a gun. What had he been doing robbing a bank with no gun?

Guilt slammed into Seth’s gut. He’d shot down an unarmed man. Never had he felt the gravity of being a U.S. Marshal as strongly as he did now. The law was behind him, but he still felt as if a small part of his own soul had been ripped from his body the day Jesse Cole died. No matter how many times he played the events of that day in his mind, it came out the same. He’d killed an unarmed man, he’d killed Jesse Cole.

Thankfully the Vaughan orchard came into view. He shook his head and muttered, “I need to stop dwelling on it. Jesse is gone and there’s nothing I can do about it now.” Seth gave a little kick of his boots against the horse’s sides and sent it into a trot. It was time to go tell Mr. Vaughan that his hired hand wasn’t coming home.

He rode into the front yard. Two big hounds came to greet him with loud barks and yips. Mrs. Vaughan waved from the front porch and Mr. Vaughan walked out of the barn to meet him.

“Afternoon, Marshal. What brings you out this way?”

Seth slid from his mount. “Bad news, I’m afraid. Jesse Cole got himself shot up last week. Didn’t make it. He won’t be returning to work.”

Mr. Vaughan took his hat off and wiped at the sweat on his brow. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good man.”

“So it would seem,” Seth agreed.

“Mind telling me what happened?” The old man slapped the hat back on his gray head and indicated Seth should follow him to the bunkhouse.

Seth fell into step with him. “He was present during a bank robbery over in Durango last week. One of the Evans gang took a shot at me and things got out of hand. Jesse got caught in the cross fire.”

Mr. Vaughan pulled the door open and walked to one of three bunks in the one-room building. “I see.”

Seth pressed on, trying to explain away his own feelings of guilt for having shot Jesse. “I’m afraid he was running with the Evans boys again. They were the ones hightailing it out of Durango with a bag full of money.” He didn’t feel the need to tell Mr. Vaughan that Jesse hadn’t been carrying a gun when he was shot. That fact still bothered him. Instead Seth asked, “Did Jesse say where he was going when he left here?”

“No, just said he had some unfinished business and that he’d be back in a couple of days.” He pulled a suitcase out from under a bunk that Seth assumed was Jesse’s. “I thought he’d gone into town to see about buying the Porters’ place. Had no idea he was running with the Evanses again.” He grunted as he lifted the case for Seth to take. “These are his belongings. Feels like this thing is filled with rocks. He also has some clothes lying around here, too. Do you want those?”

Seth shook his head.

“Do you know if he has any family we can give this to?”