Innocent Hearts Read online

  "Oh," she gasped, lifting it tenderly in both hands. She stared at the image, her eyes slowly filling with tears as she recalled Jessie's easy smile and the soft touch of her hand as they sat side by side under a cloudless sky that had held no hint of tragedy. The memory was so powerful she trembled.

  "Kate!" Martha called from the doorway of her daughter's room. "Where are you going at this hour?"

  Kate crushed the photograph to her breast protectively and said without turning, "There's been a holdup. I'm going into town to see what's happening."

  "That's no place for you," Martha admonished, more concerned for Kate's safety than propriety. "There may be trouble."

  Kate finally faced her. "I must do something," she said stubbornly. "I can't stay here not knowing."

  * * *

  A large crowd had gathered in the street, shifting and pulsating with a life of its own. Men stood on the steps in front of the Marshal's office, waving rifles and shouting to others to form a posse. Men, women, and children milled about in front of the doctor's storefront office, craning for a view and talking excitedly all at once. Kate stood at the outskirts of the group, struggling to see, straining to hear any word of Jessie. With each second her anxiety grew.

  "Excuse me," she asked of a man nearby. "Is there any news?"

  He shook his head. "None for sure. Somebody's dead, but ain't no one saying who." He turned away as a swell of voices signaled that something was about to happen.

  Kate's head was pounding so painfully she was afraid she would faint. Then she heard the rattle of wooden wheels on the rutted road and knew that the wagon was coming. She began pushing her way through the crowd without thought for good manners or behavior. She must see for herself or go mad!

  As she drew closer she saw men lifting blanket-shrouded bodies out of the wagon bed and carrying them into one of the buildings. Her mind refused to register the horror of that image. She struggled up to the side of the wagon and looked in. Her eyes grew wide, and her breath caught painfully in her chest.

  Jessie lay unconscious on the rough wooden boards, blood matted in her hair and an ugly dark hole in her shirt just below her left shoulder. Her chest and part of the blanket were soaked red. Her lips were white and she was so still. So very still.

  "Jessie," Kate whispered, an eternity of agony in her voice. "Oh no, Jessie."

  Strangers reached in to gently lift Jessie from the wagon, and Kate heard her moan faintly. Kate bit her lip to stop a cry, her heart twisting to see Jessie's pain.

  "Let me get a look at her," an irritated voice commanded as a harried looking middle-aged man shoved his way through the press of people. Kate recognized Doctor Melbourne. He looked under Jessie's shirt, shook his head worriedly, then looked up into the faces of the townspeople gathered around.

  "I need one of you women to help me with her. She's got a bullet in her chest, and if we don't get it out, she's going to die. I can't have somebody fainting when I start digging, so make sure you can take it."

  A blond woman with striking green eyes moved forward to the doctor's side and looked quickly at Jessie's inert form. She met his gaze squarely.

  "Let's get going then, Doc," she said calmly. "She's strong, but she ain't made of iron."

  The doctor nodded, his face determined. "C'mon, Mae. We've got some work to do."

  Kate stood staring after them as they disappeared inside with Jessie, feeling helpless and terribly alone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  KATE SAT MOTIONLESS on the same bench where she had been sitting a little more than two months ago when she had first seen Jessie Forbes. A lifetime ago, it seemed to her now. As she watched the door to the doctor's office, hoping for some word, she realized that all she had wanted these last few weeks had been to see Jessie again. As soon as Jessie had ridden out of town after the roundup, Kate missed her. Every day, as she went about her business - learning about her new home and her new responsibilities, helping Millie at the school, taking the occasional family portrait for new friends and neighbors, even entertaining Ken Turner, she missed her. She missed her easy smile and her gentle way of talking and the way that she made Kate feel special. She missed looking at her in her dusty levis and work-dampened shirt, and feeling her own heart race for no apparent reason. She missed the way the sound of Jessie's spurs jingling could make her stomach quiver in that oddly nice way. She missed the light touch of Jessie's fingers when they brushed over her hand and the warmth it started inside. She missed her.

  Kate's mind was blank for long periods, and then suddenly she would remember why she was waiting. Jessie was hurt. Her throat tightened and tears threatened to spill. Hours passed, but she had no real sense of the passage of time. The sun grew bright and hung high in the sky, casting a harsh, merciless light over the brown earth of the street. People passed by, some spoke to her, and she nodded automatically. Her eyes remained fixed on the door across the street.

  Sometime in the morning a group of men came galloping hard into town and clustered in a roiling pack in the street in front of the doctor's. A man Kate had seen with Jessie at the roundup raced into the doctor's office while the others paced about outside. He came out a short time later and murmured something to the agitated men crowded around. Now they were sitting on the stairs or leaning against the railings, smoking and waiting, too.

  Kate struggled for a way to describe emotions that she had no words for. What would she feel, if she never saw Jessie again? Without fully understanding it, she knew there would be an emptiness inside of her that would never be filled. She felt connected to Jessie in some deep way that she had never experienced before. It can't happen, she said over and over. Not now. Not when I'm just beginning to see.

  It took Kate several seconds to realize that the door across the street had opened, so far had she drifted into that unbearable place of loss. The blond woman who had volunteered to help the doctor with Jessie was talking to the waiting men gathered outside. Kate gave a small cry and jumped to her feet. That woman would know about Jessie!

  As the woman started slowly down the street, Kate hurried after her, the hem of her dress lifted in both hands, higher than was proper, so that it would not trip her. She couldn't be bothered about how she looked now. As Kate drew near, the woman's exhaustion became apparent. Her golden hair had fallen from its pins, tumbling in disarray over her bare shoulders. Her emerald green dress, far too revealing for walking about in, was rumpled and stained. Kate registered, in a distracted way, that she was quite beautiful.

  Kate reached a trembling hand and touched the woman's arm.

  "Excuse me. I'm sorry," Kate, said, her voice wavering. "Can you tell me how Jessie is?"

  Mae turned, her eyes bleak. "She's alive, barely."

  Kate swayed, suddenly dizzy. "Oh, thank God!"

  "God had nothing to do with it," Mae answered bitterly.

  "Please," Kate persisted, fighting to clear her vision, "could you tell me ..." Her voice trailed off as spots danced in front of her eyes. The turmoil of the day and the absence of any nourishment were making her light-headed.

  Mae grasped the pale young woman's arm with a strong hand and peered at her closely, trying to remember where she had seen her before, and why she should be so upset. Mae sighed, too tired to be surprised by anything at the moment. "Right now I need a drink, and from the looks of you, you could use one, too. Come with me."

  Kate allowed herself to be led down the street, scarcely noticing their destination. Relief washed through her and all she could see was Jessie's face. Mae took her down an alley and through a side door into the saloon. Mae pointed to a table in the rear of the deserted room, and Kate sank down gratefully.

  Mae walked to the bar and slumped onto a stool. She pushed her hair away from her face wearily. "Frank, give me a tall whiskey. And a brandy."

  Frank poured the drinks and looked at Mae cautiously. "You want me to get you something to eat, Mae? You look pretty done in."

  Mae started to shake her head
no, and then caught sight of Kate's trembling figure. The girl looked like she might swoon any second. "Maybe a couple of sandwiches."

  He nodded, then asked quietly, "Jessie gonna make it?"

  She looked at him, a lifetime of sorrow written in her expression. "If there is any justice in this world, she will."

  She took the drinks from him, crossed to where Kate was sitting, and put the brandy into Kate's hands. "Drink this."

  Kate looked at it uncomprehendingly, still not herself.

  "Come on, now," she said, not unkindly. "Drink it. Then we'll talk." As she spoke, Mae took a stiff gulp of her own drink and welcomed the fiery trail it burned down her throat. The pain was much better than the hopelessness she had felt looking at Jessie lying naked, a great gaping tear in her, while her blood ran red onto Mae's hands. Mae closed her eyes and held the glass tightly, her fingers white.

  Kate took a swallow. Her eyes widened and she coughed, half choking. Color flooded her face and she seemed to waken, as if from a dream.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed.

  Mae opened her eyes and touched Kate's hand reassuringly. "First time's the hardest. Drink some more."

  Kate gasped and took another sip. She straightened up a little and looked intently at Mae. Her mind was clear although her stomach felt odd. "Would you tell me now?"

  Mae smiled at Kate slightly, hearing the steel in her voice and thinking that she was tougher than she first appeared. Mae had a feeling she might like her under other circumstances.

  "Well," Mae said slowly, "she's pretty torn up but the doc got the bullet out and he said it didn't do damage to any, uh, vital organs." She shook her head, trying to dispel the image of him probing in Jessie's shoulder with cold metal instruments while she held Jessie down. How could a person live after something like that was done to her? She was only thankful that Jess didn't seem to have had any awareness of it, only moaning softly as the doc worked.

  "And she'll be all right?" Kate persisted, her eyes fixed on Mae's face, looking for the truth.

  Mae sighed and finished her drink at a swallow. "The big problem, he said, was all that blood she lost. If she does all right through the night, she should get well."

  "Then it's not over yet," Kate whispered softly, feeling something inside her grow hard and cold. "She'll be all right. I know she will."

  Mae looked at the set to Kate's jaw and the way her spine stiffened. 'The girl's got spirit, all right,' she thought to herself. She walked to the bar and returned with a bottle, setting it down between them.

  "Let's have another drink, sweetie."

  Kate looked at her and smiled grimly. She held out her hand and said, "My name is Kate Beecher, by the way."

  "Figured it might be," Mae said dryly, and took her hand.

  * * *

  Kate looked up as a man approached, his face set and grim. It was the man she had seen with Jessie at the roundup, the one who had been waiting outside the doctor's office. He sat down across from Mae and nodded a weary greeting.

  "I want to thank you, Mae. For what you did for Jess." His voice was very soft for such a big man.

  "No need to thank me, Jed. Not when it's Jess," Mae said quietly. She turned to Kate. "This here is Jed Harper, Jessie's foreman. Jed - Miss Kate Beecher."

  "Hello, Jed."

  "Ma'am," he said absently, still looking intently at Mae. He continued angrily, "The damn doctor won't let me in there, Mae, and he won't say no more than that she's alive. What's going on?"

  "I don't know much more than you do, Jed. We're just waiting." Her expression hardened. "Did they catch those bastards yet, Jed?"

  Kate was shocked at first at the undisguised hatred in Mae's voice, and then realized that she felt the same way. She looked at Jed expectantly.

  "Ain't but one to catch, Mae," Jed said, laughing darkly. "Jess got one herself, with both of them firing on her, too. And from the looks of things, she got a piece of the other fella before -- before he got her." His voice trembled and he looked away. He swallowed several times before he added, "I sure don't want nothing to happen to that girl, Mae. I promised Tom I'd look after her and, and-- I think it's her been looking after me."

  Mae put her hand on his shoulder and smiled a little. "You know how hard-headed Jess can be, Jed. I don't imagine she's going to leave things at the ranch up to you."

  Jed's grateful glance bespoke his thanks. He took a deep breath, suddenly looked determined. "You know, I'd best get back out there and see to things, or she'll be madder than a hornet when she gets home."

  "I'd keep an eye on your men, too, Jed," Mae suggested sagely. "Jess wouldn't want them doing anything crazy if they catch this fella."

  "No need to worry about the boys," he growled, his eyes hard. "When we get him, I'll take care of him myself."

  Mae regarded him solemnly, then nodded. "Be careful."

  "Thanks, Mae."

  Kate watched him go. "Would he? Kill the man?"

  "Probably," Mae said, studying Kate closely.

  Kate was silent for a long moment. Then she said with quiet conviction, "If I had a gun, Mae, I'd be ready to do it, too."

  "Might not be a bad idea, even if you're not fixing to shoot someone," Mae suggested. "Learning how to shoot, I mean."

  That was something that had never crossed Kate's mind, although she had admired Jessie's apparent ability to protect herself. She looked thoughtful, but did not reply. Instead she examined Mae's face carefully, realizing fully for the first time how drawn and tired she looked. Mae had been everyone's strength all day.

  "Mae," Kate said kindly, "why don't you go and get some rest. I'll wait here for any news."

  Mae gaped at her as if she could not believe her ears. "Lord, girl! Do you know where you are? And who I am, for that matter? Your folks'll take a fit when they hear where you spent the afternoon! You can't stay here!"

  That set look returned to Kate's face. "You helped save Jessie's life - that's what I know about you. And so far, this place suits me fine. Just fine." She placed her hand gently on Mae's, and looked intently into her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere until we know. Please let me do something, Mae. I can't sit at home and talk about foolishness. Please."

  Mae gave in to her tiredness. "All right, honey. But you stay back here away from the bar. The boys are gonna be mean tonight, and I don't want you hearing all that talk."

  Kate's eyes blazed, and she said bitterly, "Do you think words could bother me after seeing Jessie like that this morning?"

  Mae nodded silently. She understood just what Kate was feeling, because she felt the same way. She also wondered if Kate knew what it meant.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MAE AWAKENED TO an insistent rapping on her door.

  "Mae, Mae-- wake up. The doctor sent word for you to come! Mae!"

  Mae sat up, pulling the ties of her bodice together hastily. "Come in, Kate. I'm awake."

  Kate hurried in, her face flushed.

  "What time is it?" Mae asked as she hurried about the room, gathering her things and pushing her hair into some kind of order.

  "A little before ten."

  Mae stared at her. "Lord, girl! Your parents will have the Marshal out searching for you."

  Kate shook her head. "No, they won't. I know my father won't go home until there's word from the Marshal about the outlaws, so I sent John Emory to tell my mother I was staying in town at the news office."

  "There'll be the devil to pay for that, Kate," Mae said admiringly.

  "That may be, but I don't care." She held the door open, too anxious to talk any more. "Hurry."

  They rushed down the hall, the sound of the dancehall piano and loud male voices echoing up the stairwell from the bar below. Behind the closed doors on either side of the narrow corridor, muted laughter and low moans filtered through the thin walls. On any other day of her life, Kate would have been shocked to hear what was happening in those rooms. She didn't think anything would ever shock her again.

  They left through th
e second floor door to the stairs into the alley, the same way Kate had come with Jessie their first afternoon together. The streets were strangely empty, many of the men still out riding with the Marshal's posse. As they passed the newspaper office, Martin Beecher stepped out, exclaiming with surprise at the sight of his daughter.

  "Kate! What are you doing in town this late?"

  "I'm on my way to the doctor's," she explained. "I'll be home later."

  He stared at her, open-mouthed. Kate thought she heard Mae chuckle faintly beside her.

  "But Kate," he protested faintly, "without an escort .."

  "Don't worry, Father. I'm fine," she said as she hurried on.

  "Wait for me there," he called after them. "I'll take you home!"

  As they approached the door to the doctor's office, they slowed abruptly and stared at each other. Kate's eyes were suddenly wide and frightened. Mae's mouth was set in a grim line. Reaching out, Mae took Kate's hand.

  "Come on, honey. Let's go in."

  Kate nodded and together they entered the small anteroom. The doctor, looking weary and rumpled, sat behind the scarred wooden desk. Kate held her breath, waiting for his words like a sentence of judgment.

  "She's better, Mae. Weak, but better."

  Kate gave a little gasp and sat down quickly on one of the hard, straight-backed chairs that lined the wall opposite the doctor, her limbs suddenly refusing to support her.

  The doctor continued speaking. "She's not well enough to move yet, but tomorrow I think we ought to get her over to your place. Can you look after her there for a while? It'll be a few days before she's likely to wake up, and the wound'll need tending."

  "Sure, Doc," Mae said immediately. "Won't be the first time we've turned a room upstairs into a sickroom."

  He nodded as he recalled all the times that Mae had quietly provided a bed and food and care to some unfortunate with nowhere else to go, and with precious little thanks for it, too. He had always thought that Mae was a damn fine woman. Too bad some of the good townspeople didn't think so.