Ruth Langan - Jade

Doc turned to the marshal. “I hear there was another shooting.”

The lawman nodded. “The other side of Poison Creek. Six outlaws ambushed Samuel Fisher on his way home from the sawmill where he’d been working for Farley Duke. Samuel was lucky to escape with his life. If it hadn’t been for his wife and four boys riding up just then, he swears he wouldn’t have made it.”

“Did he recognize any of the gang?” Doc asked.

“Not a one. Had their faces hidden behind bandannas. But from the sounds of it, they’re the same ones that have struck before.”

“Maybe it’s time to swear out a posse and go after them,” Doc suggested.

“I don’t like to take so many men away from their families. Especially with a vicious gang like this.” Quent Regan washed down his meal with hot black coffee, the fourth of the morning. “These outlaws seem to enjoy killing.”

“You think they’ll strike again?” Diamond asked quietly.

Quent shrugged. The badge pinned to his shirt winked in the rays of sunlight streaming through the dining-room window. “I don’t know what to think. But I’ll tell you one thing. No one’s going to terrorize the citizens of my territory. Not while I’m marshal. My deputy and I are taking every precaution to protect the town.”

Pearl shivered. “Such violence. I’m afraid I’ll never get used to it.”

“It’s part of Texas,” Diamond muttered.

“It’s part of life,” the marshal added.

“But it doesn’t have to be.” Wade’s words, though spoken softly, held a hint of steel.

Jade turned to study him. In profile, he didn’t resemble the man who had spoken so lovingly from the pulpit. With flaring nostrils and tightly clenched jaw, he looked as though he could lead a posse himself.

“It’s easy for you to say,” the marshal remarked, “when you carry a Bible instead of a gun. But you don’t earn your living chasing outlaws.”

“In a way, I do.” Wade’s tone softened, though the fire was still in his eyes. “You chase them to punish them, while I chase them to offer them the chance to seek forgiveness from those they’ve harmed.”

“Well,” Quent said, fiddling with his knife, “you may offer them forgiveness, Reverend. I offer justice. At the end of a rope.”

Doc Prentice nodded, his pencil-thin mustache twitching as he smiled. “It’s how our town got its name.”

Everyone knew that the doctor, though a relative newcomer to Texas, had a fascination for the history of the town.

“Have there been many hangings?” Pearl asked.

“I’ve been told there were dozens,” Doc replied.

“Was there an actual tree?” Jade asked.

“It’s gone now.” Doc Prentice helped himself to another biscuit and slathered it with Millie Potter’s wild cherry preserves. “They say that old oak was here a hundred years or more. It stood on a hill just outside of town. The branches stuck out like long, spindly arms. Just perfect for hanging a man. The first hanging was for cattle rustling. Folks came from miles around. Afterward they stayed and had a picnic on the banks of Poison Creek.”

He popped the biscuit into his mouth and chewed, then washed it down with a swallow of coffee. “After that it became a kind of tradition. Folks would flock to a hanging, then stay around to visit with the neighbors they hadn’t seen since the last time.”

Jade shuddered. “I can’t imagine having a picnic after such a horrible event. It seems so uncivilized.”

The marshal nodded in agreement. “Most of it was before my time. I hear it got so bad, folks were eager for the next hanging, just so they could have an excuse for another picnic. The sheriff finally had to request a federal judge be sent all the way from St. Louis.”

“What good would that do?” Jade asked.

“He figured a cool head was needed to keep the townspeople from making hasty decisions that might cost an innocent man his life.”

Beside her, Jade realized that the reverend had gone very still. When she glanced at him, he lowered his gaze. But in that brief moment when their eyes met she caught sight of a blazing anger. His hands were clenched so tightly in his lap, the knuckles were white from the effort.

Suddenly he pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” he called to Millie Potter, “I have a lot of visits to. make today. I promised Yancy I’d bring him some more tobacco. And I told the Thompsons I’d stop by and share a Bible reading with their boy who was thrown from a mustang and suffered a broken arm. Since the widow Purdy took another spell, I thought I’d stop by there, as well.”

“Sounds like you have a full day, Reverend.” Millie filled the marshal’s cup, then set down the coffeepot and wiped her hands on her apron before crossing the room. “But I should have expected as much. After all, it is Sunday. Will I see you later?”

He shrugged. “There’s no telling. If I find myself too far from town, I’ll just sleep along the trail.”

“Then you’d better take this.” She handed him a linen-wrapped bundle. “Just in case.”

“Thanks, Millie.” He turned to the others at the table and said his goodbyes.

Jade watched him pull on a cowhide duster and take his leave. She found herself wondering at his reaction to the marshal’s words. She’d sensed anger in him. And pain. Not so surprising, she told herself. After all, he was, as Marshal Regan said, a man who carried a Bible instead of a gun. The thought of mob violence would be repugnant to such a man.

Still, for a man of peace, his reaction had been almost violent. And his violence, though carefully banked, was frightening to behold.

It was late afternoon and Wade had been on the trail since breakfast at Millie Potter’s, bringing whatever comfort he could to those who lay sick or dying.

As his horse topped a rise, he stared across the wide expanse of barren land to where a carriage stood tilted at a crazy angle. When he rode closer he found Jade standing alongside her rig, examining a broken wheel.

“Are you hurt?” He swung from the saddle and hurried to her side.

“No.” She was so relieved to see someone, anyone, she could have hugged him. “Fortunately the team was moving slowly, otherwise I’d probably have been thrown to the ground. There’s no telling how much damage might have been done.” She rubbed a tender shoulder. “As it is, I was bounced around a good bit.”

He studied her with grave concern. “Are you certain nothing’s broken? Your arm? Your shoulder?” He ran a hand across her shoulder, down her arm, probing gently.

She was surprised at the tenderness of his touch. And jolted by it. To cover her shock she muttered, “The only thing broken is that wheel.”

Wade was genuinely concerned for her safety. And annoyed by the rush of feelings the simple touch of her evoked. “With his fears relieved, he gave in to a wave of unexpected anger. “What in heaven’s name are you doing all alone in the middle of nowhere? There isn’t a living soul for miles. Did you want to tempt the fates? To see if you could outrun a gang of outlaws again?”

At his heated words, her relief was forgotten as her anger surfaced. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Reverend Weston. But for your information, I was visiting the graves of my parents.”

That stopped him, but only for a moment.

“Then you should have taken some of your wranglers along for protection.”

“They have a ranch to run.” She touched a hand to the knife at her waist. “Besides, I told you. I always carry protection with me.”

He swallowed back a snort of anger. “As I recall, your knife was useless against the gang that stopped you on the trail.”