Abe, who had been sitting on the edge of Jason’s desk, stood up. “Gotta think on it, but it may be a case for the U.S. Marshal’s Office. Attempted kidnapping, that is. You boys be up for an answer come the mornin’?”
Jason nodded, and Abe let himself out and soberly walked across the street to Kendalls’ Boarding House.
Jenny was asleep by the time Jason finally got home and settled Cleo in, and he quietly got ready for bed and slid his body between the covers. And the whole time, all he was thinking about was “what next?” He supposed most of it would hang on Abe’s decision, but that would entail Abe having to haul Davis up to Prescott. No matter how you looked at it, that wasn’t a happy plan. There were too many mountains to climb and too many streams to cross, and just plain too many opportunities for Davis to break free.
It wasn’t that Jason mistrusted Abe’s abilities. But he didn’t know what Davis was capable of, and he didn’t like the idea of Abe going out there alone with him.
Finally, after some fitful tossing and turning, he decided to send Ward along. Ward would enjoy the outing, he figured, and Abe would enjoy the company. All this hinged, of course, on Abe’s decision. Taking into account his friendship with Rafe and his swift reaction to Matt, earlier this evening, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he just dragged Davis up into the mountains and shot him.
He shook his head. No, Abe wouldn’t do that. But then again, he might. It was impossible to tell.
At last, slumber’s beckoning became insistent, and Jason fell fitfully asleep. He didn’t rouse until Jenny woke him the next morning.
But when Jason finally sat down in his office, Abe was nowhere to be found. According to Ward, he hadn’t been by the office, and nobody’d seen him. Sampson Davis, at least, was still in his cell, and silently ate the breakfast that Jenny had made for him—careful to keep it kosher, of course.
Abe finally stuck his head in the door at about lunchtime and apprised Jason that he’d come to no decision as yet.
Jason was both relieved and disappointed, but if anybody had asked him, he couldn’t have said why.
He walked over to the saloon with Abe and rounded up Rafe (prying him loose from a game of blackjack, which he’d been winning all morning), and they all hiked up to the café to grab some lunch. Jenny had sent him off to work with a chicken sandwich, but he figured to eat that later on. Talking was more important now.
And Rafe and Abe were both full of talk. Unfortunately, mostly stories about Rafe’s daddy and Rafe’s childhood and Rafe’s growing up, and no speculation about just what the hell they were going to do with Sampson Davis.
Abe seemed in a particularly good mood. Had Jason been so inclined, he might have even referred to him as “high-spirited.” Quite a departure from his usual demeanor. Odd, Jason thought. Very odd.
He finally asked. “Where you been this morning, Abe? Couldn’t turn you up, and I about turned over every stone in town.”
“Reckon you didn’t think to look where I was,” Abe said cryptically.
“Where was that?”
“In the schoolhouse.” Abe grinned. It was a silly grin, almost like a smitten youngster.
“What the heck were you doin’ in school? Hey, you weren’t romancin’ my baby sister, were you?”
Abe held up both hands, palms forward. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself in an uproar, Jason. That Jenny’s a good kid. She took over classes for Electa while we went out back and talked.”
Now Jason was really confused. Even Rafe looked a little taken aback. Jason said, “You went outside with Miss Morton?”
“Ain’t gonna be ‘Miss Morton’ for long,” Abe remarked with a grin that tried to be cryptic, but failed.
Rafe slugged him in the arm. “You old dog!”
It took Jason a little longer, but he finally said, “But you haven’t even met her yet!”
“I was up there yesterday for a spell, and I seen her the day I rode in. Damned handsome woman.”
“But still, that’s hardly a basis for—”
“Jason,” Abe said, “my pa knew my ma for about twelve hours afore they got hitched, and they’re still hitched to this very day. Sometimes, lastin’ love happens fast.”
“Maybe, but—”
“No buts about it.” Abe signaled the waiter. “Three pieces of apple pie—with cheddar. We’re celebratin’!”
“But did she say yes?” Jenny asked again. “My gosh, I sure couldn’t tell anything from the way she acted. I mean, not that she’d just been proposed to!”
“Yes, she said ‘yes’,” Jason replied. He didn’t really understand it himself, yet. “Except she wants him to go ask her father, first.”
Jenny’s hand were suddenly planted firmly on her hips. “Why? I mean, she’s got to be like, forty years old or something!”
“Thirty,” Jason corrected. “And thirty’s not that old if you’re still somebody’s kid. You got any more’a that cake?”
She sliced off another piece and practically threw it at him. “How can you eat cake at a time like this?”
“It’s good cake. And what do you mean, ‘a time like this’?”
“When your only sister is about to have to take on teaching the whole school—by herself! They’ll move to Prescott, you know. They’ll be gone and I’ll be left with Cyrano Jones and Junior Krebbs and that whole crowd. ’Course, they’ll be graduating in June and out on the town and they’ll be yours to deal with, but there are others coming up that are going to be just as difficult if not worse, and—”
She put her hands up to her eyes, covering them, and he saw a single tear trickle through her fingers. “What am I gonna do, Jason?”
“You’ll go on like we all do, Jenny.” He knew it wasn’t comforting, but it was the best he could come up with, considering the circumstances.
“You’re no help at all!” she shouted and ran from the room.
As her bedroom door slammed behind her, he muttered, “Yeah, I know,” and then he pulled his cake toward him and dug in. It really was good cake.
Later, on the porch, he considered that Jenny was just being selfish, or perhaps jealous. Or maybe she was really, truly scared of teaching the class on her own. In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter. If Miss Morton left town, Jenny was stuck.
To tell the truth, Jason wasn’t crazy about the idea, either. Some of those boys that they taught were big galoots, sullen and brutish, and far beyond the normal age for school, having been held back a few times. And Jenny was small, almost tiny. If one of them got her cornered . . .
He stubbed out his cigarette to take his mind off of it, but it didn’t work. He was still brooding when he went into the house. He stopped in the kitchen to eat yet another piece of cake, and it was while he was thus occupied that his sister came down the hall.
“Jason?” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to act like a baby or a sore loser. I wish Miss Morton all the best, I really do. This is a silly time for me to be thinking about myself.” She turned to go back down the hall, then suddenly spun back. “Are you eating another piece of cake?”
Jason swallowed, then said, “But it’s good!”
She shook her finger at him. “Nobody likes a fat marshal.” And then she turned again and went back to her room.
Jason watched her retreat, then stared down at the cake, and gave a thoughtful gaze at his belly. Muttering, “I’ve got a long way to go before I’m fat!” he picked up his fork and happily went back to work.
That night, long after Ward had made his final rounds and Jason was fast asleep, Deputy U.S. Marshal Abraham Todd sat in the far corner of his room, smoking. He’d given up counting them a long time ago, but he knew he was almost out of papers.