Part 13 (1/2)

”I don't see how he can think anything else. I was very doubtful myself.”

”But I don't,” Fern protested. ”I don't even hate Hen, and he killed Troy.”

The friendliness left Rose's expression and her voice turned hard. ”As long as there is no eyewitness to Troy's murder, I think you should at least give Hen the benefit of the doubt. Madison, George, and I all agree that Hen couldn't have killed Tory. That ought to count for something.”

It was easy to see that however much Rose might sympathize with Fern, her loyalties were unquestionably with her husband's family.

”But somebody killed him, and the only evidence points to Hen.”

”What did Madison find yesterday?”

In the aftermath of her fall, Fern had forgotten that Madison had raised some doubts in her mind.

”Madison thinks someone else killed Troy, carried his body to the Connor place, and tried to blame it on Hen.”

”Did he tell you why?”

”He said the body shouldn't have been stiff only an hour after the murder, and he thinks it was too dark inside the soddy for the murder to have been done there.”

”That seems reasonable.”

”But why would anybody here want to kill Troy? Everybody has known him for years.”

”I know nothing about your cousin,” Rose said. ”Just don't dismiss Madison's ideas because you're mad at him. You may not be able to believe in the integrity of the family as I do, but you ought to be able to respect his intelligence.”

The door opened to admit Mrs. Abbott carrying a tray loaded with pots, plates, and cups.

”Your breakfast,” she chirped. ”And you're to eat every bite while it's hot. It'll make you feel better.”

But Fern hardly tasted any of the food she put in her mouth, or heard any of Mrs. Abbott's endless chatter as she tidied the room for the second time that morning. Her head was filled with Rose's words.

Suppose Troy had been killed by somebody else. The thought sent chills down her spine. It could be almost anybody. She could have talked to his killer a half dozen times since his death.

Even her own father.

Of course, her father wouldn't kill anybody, but Madison felt the same way about his brother. If she was going to accept her father's innocence on faith, she had to at least consider the possibility of Hen's innocence. But the more she thought, the more possibilities she found to consider. The only easy thing was to hold to her conviction that Hen was guilty. But she couldn't. Madison had shaken her confidence in Hen's guilt.

And just about everything else.

Madison remained in jail for two days before Pike recovered sufficiently to tell the marshal what really happened.

''You're fortunate,” Marshal Hickok said when he released Madison.

”Fortunate has nothing to do with it,” Madison said, not the least impressed by Hickok's reputation. ”You never had a case against me.”

”Shame you can't say the same for your brother,” Hickok replied, nettled by Madison's reply. He was used to everyone being a little afraid of him. This brash Eastern lawyer's self-a.s.surance didn't sit well with Hickok. Come to think of it, he didn't like any of the Randolphs very much. George treated him with courtesy, but Hickok suspected it had more to do with his position than his personal merit. As for Hen Randolph, Hickok couldn't find much of anything that boy did respect. He just plain didn't care.

”If you'll take some advice” Hickok began.

”People have been giving me advice from the moment I stepped off the train,” Madison said, not bothering to look up as he prepared to leave the jail. ”But it was all concerned with their own comfort, not mine.” Madison put on his coat, smoothed a few wrinkles out of his pants, and emerged from the cell. ”So I've decided not to listen to any more advice.”

”That might not be a good idea,” Hickok said.

”Leaving Boston wasn't a good idea,” Madison said, ”but now that I'm here, I intend to finish what I came to do.”

”And what's that?” Hickok knew. Everybody in Abilene knew, but he wanted to hear Madison say it. ”I mean to find out who killed Troy Sproull. And I mean to be standing right here when my brother walks out of that cell a free man.”

”Not everybody gets what he wants,” Hickok said.

”I do,” Madison declared, and he walked out without a backward glance.

”Your brother always been that modest?” Hickok asked Hen after Madison had gone, irritation causing him to glare angrily at the retreating figure.

Hen chuckled softly. ”Don't tangle with him, Marshal. He'll tie you in knots.”

”Ain't n.o.body done it yet,” Hickok said, not without some pride.

”Maybe not, but you haven't run up against Madison before.”

Madison checked his appearance to make certain that no signs remained of his stay in prison. He was about to leave for Mrs. Abbott's, and he had been cursing out loud for the last several minutes. He was going to see George and Rose. But he was also going to see Fern.

That was why he was cursing.

He knew he had to apologize for his behavior. No matter what she had said to him when he arrived in Abilene, no matter what she'd done to irritate him since, once he'd calmed down enough to think rationally, he didn't believe she had had anything to do with the attack on him. As usual, he couldn't think straight where she was involved.

Maybe it would help if they stopped fighting every time they met. She had every right to want her cousin's murderer punished, just as he had every right to want Hen cleared of the charges. She had no reason to dislike him, at least not if he stopped behaving like an arrogant hothead. If he couldn't convince her of Hen's innocence, how could he hope to convince a judge and a jury?

Besides, he had a job to do, and their running battle was distracting him. Every time she got him angry, he struck back. Then he'd start to feel guilty and think he needed to apologize. And that would make him angry. By then all he could think of was Fern, not Hen.

He was developing a grudging respect for her. She treated him rotten, but she took her medicine without whining and complaining. He couldn't understand why he wanted her to like him. How could he like anything about this savage land?

It seemed as if every occupant of the hotel was in the narrow pa.s.sageway when he left his room. Some greeted him with a congratulatory pat on the back, some with curiosity, others with anger. It pleased him to greet them all with a beaming smile.

Maybe because he was thinking of Fern the whole time.

Why couldn't he get her out of his mind? It wasn't as if she were beautiful, rich, or had any accomplishments. She was a n.o.body from a squalid little town perched on the edge of nowhere.

He had to hand it to her. n.o.body else could wear pants like she could.

”Good morning, Mr. Randolph,” the desk clerk greeted him when he reached the lobby. I hope the bath was to your liking.”

”It'll take several more before I feel clean, but I imagine the lingering effects of incarceration are all in my mind.”

”It can't be nothing like what a man of your position is used to,” the clerk said.

Unctuous devil, Madison said to himself. Wonder what he's up to. ”I heard Reed and Pike forced the fight on you. Probably thought you was an easy mark.”