Grace and the Guiltless

Chapter 25

Outside the saloon, Joe stood shaking his head.

“The sheriff, did you see his face?” Grace hugged the bag and shot a nervous glance toward the door of the Bird Cage. Would the sheriff come storming out?

“He’s not happy, that’s for sure,” Joe said tightly.

“He’s furious.” She couldn’t help but smile.

She stared at the sack as they hurried down the alley to the stables. “Think this is his pay-off money?” The thought made her want to throw the money down, but then she thought about it some more and laughed. “Actually, I guess it’s payback. The sheriff paid me for taking down one of the Guiltless Gang. Very fitting.”

Joe grinned along with her but quickly grew solemn. “Can’t that be enough for you?” But he asked it as if he already knew the answer.

Grace looked at him for a long minute. With what had happened to his parents, she thought he of all people would finally understand.

After they saddled their horses, Grace drew out a pile of silver dollars. “That’s for you.”

“I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

“You gave me a bag of silver. I can’t pay you what that’s really been worth, but consider this a down payment.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Joe started to mount his horse, then stopped. “In all this madness, I forgot that we have errands to run!”

They led their horses to the mercantile, keeping watch for Sheriff Behan. Grace bought small gifts for everyone. A bag of penny candy for Sequoyah, some patent medicine and healing tonics for Cheveyo, a bright bandana for Cheis. She added some small gifts and toys for the women and children. She picked out a shiny apple for Bullet.

But what could she get for Joe?

When he admired a Smith and Wesson revolver, she put it on the counter along with bullets.

Joe raised his eyebrows. “Giving up on the Colt?”

“Nope.” Grace tried to put some sass in her tone, so he wouldn’t guess why she was buying it. “I figure a bounty hunter should have more than one weapon.” She added plenty of bullets for the Colt.

Joe frowned. “You weren’t serious about that bounty hunter stuff, were you?”

Grace put her hands on her hips. “You think I can’t do it?”

“I have no doubt you can. The question is, should you? Don’t . . . don’t go to the dark side, Grace,” he pleaded.

“Since when is capturing criminals going to the dark side?”

Joe ignored her and continued heaping the goods Cheis had requested on the counter, but then he turned and looked her straight in the eyes. “I get the impression you don’t aim to capture them.”

Grace turned away from his probing gaze. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Joe handed over the pelts and deerskins to the shopkeeper. “Most likely no one will hire a girl anyway,” he muttered so quietly that Grace almost didn’t catch it.

She clenched her teeth. Maybe not. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.

* * *

As soon as they had made their purchases, they galloped off, Grace still keeping a wary eye behind her for Sheriff Behan. When they finally made it to the outskirts of Tombstone, she took a deep breath. Maybe he really wasn’t coming after them.

But a short while later, hoof beats pounded behind them . . .

She turned to see Reverend Byington riding toward them. The tension that had coiled inside her relaxed.

“Well, Grace, I was so hoping to have a chance to talk to you. Although not under these circumstances,” the reverend gasped as he caught up to them.

Grace reined Bullet to a walk, so the preacher could catch his breath.

Byington struggled for words. “About today . . . I’m sure what happened was an accident. Self-defense?”

His look made Grace squirm. It was as if he could see clear through to her soul. His eyes held both compassion and a warning.

“Trying to play God can jeopardize your soul, Grace Milton. Only God should decide a man’s fate.”

Joe burst out, “I’ve been telling her that. And that she needs to let go of her anger and find peace!”

“Sounds like you’re a good influence, son.”

Would everyone stop talking as if she weren’t here?

The preacher turned toward Grace. “I know mere words won’t stop you, but look to the light rather than the dark.” He reached into the bag slung over his shoulder. “I’d planned to ride out and give you this.” He withdrew a square object wrapped in a handkerchief and held it out.

Grace didn’t reach for it. She only shook her head. “You’ve done too much for me already.”

The preacher smiled. “It’s not a gift. It belongs to you.”

Grace unrolled the fabric. There in her hand was the tintype, with her family’s faces staring out at her. Her eyes filled with tears. “I . . . I thought I would never see this again. Thank you, thank you, thank you . . .”

“Don’t thank me. Thank God that I found it. I’d started back toward town but knew I would never rest until I knew you were safe at the Joneses. I rode back to accompany you and saw that glinting on the ground near a mesquite tree.” He gave her a stern look. “I searched for hours but never found you. I hoped that nothing had happened to you.”

“I never went to their cabin,” Grace confessed. “The Ndeh took me in.”

If she hadn’t gotten lost, she might have run into Reverend Byington, and she’d now be stuck at the Joneses. Instead, she had been through more pain, but she had remained free and now had the skills she needed to take care of herself.

The preacher pursed his lips. “The Ndeh are good people . . . but you should be in a real home.”

Joe sat up straighter. “The Ndeh have given her a real home.”

“I’m sure they have, son. I only meant a home where she’ll get some teaching from the Good Book.”

Silence descended for a minute. Grace wanted to rail against that, but the preacher had been nothing but kind.

She kept silent.

The preacher took a deep breath. “Well, now that you have money, I hope you’ll consider settling down.”

Grace looked away. She couldn’t meet his eyes and say what she had to say.

She didn’t want to read the disappointment in them.

She hugged the tintype to her chest with her free hand. But before she could say anything, Joe said, “We’re taking good care of her, sir.”

“Very well. I’ll be out to check on both of you from time to time. But Grace, every time you look at that photograph . . . remember that you came from love, not hatred or vengeance.”

Grace nodded. He had given her back her most prized possession; she could give him a promise in return.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Reverend Byington’s grin might not have been so broad if he knew of her plans, but Grace would keep them to herself.

The preacher wheeled his horse around. “I need to head back now, but I’ll be praying for both of you.” Then he laughed. “You know what you should be called? Amazing Grace. Do you know the hymn?”

He broke into song, and the sound of his deep bass echoed after them as they sped up the hill to camp.