Part 22 (1/2)
But he hadn't been drawn to that part of Fern, no matter how beautiful or fascinating she might prove to be. He knew only the Fern who wore pants, swore like a Texan, and was as tough as a piece of Spanish rawhide.
He turned on Second Street and headed west.
What in h.e.l.l did he like about her? Aside from her rounded hips, her long, slim legs, and the pleasant pressure of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest.
For one thing, they were very much alike. Each had been badly hurt and was trying to deny it. Both of them were afraid to allow themselves to care for anyone; they tried to deny they wanted to.
He liked her s.p.u.n.kiness. Both of them felt alone in the world, she more than he even though she lived with her father. But she hadn't let that defeat her. She had forced the world to accept her on her own terms, terms which should have been impossible for a woman.
Yet even that didn't account for everything. He was forced to acknowledge he was attracted to her for herself alone. With her delightful body evident even beneath her scruffy clothes, he couldn't imagine why the local farms boys weren't standing in line at her door. She must have done a wonderful job of scaring them off.
Odd that she had never tried to drive him off. She had tried to drive him out of town, but not away from her. Only now did he realize that the two were really quite different.
He saw the man waiting for him in the shadows of the schoolhouse, and his thoughts snapped like a thread. He slipped his hand into his pocket and his fingers closed over the b.u.t.t of his gun. He didn't expect trouble, but he meant to be ready in case it came.
”I near 'bout left,” the man said. ”I wasn't supposed to have to show myself.”
”I had some unexpected business.”
”I saw your business.”
”Never mind,” Madison said, irritated at this invasion of his privacy. ”What do you have to tell me?”
The man looked about nervously. ”I don't like being in town. I don't trust people who live all in a heap like this. It ain't natural.”
”Maybe not,” Madison agreed impatiently, ”but that's something neither you nor I can change. What can you tell me about Hen's whereabouts that night?”
”I can tell you he weren't nowhere near the Connor place.”
”Where was he?”
”About ten miles south, over in the direction of Newton. Don't know if he went there, but he was coming from thataway.”
”When?”
”I can't be sure.”
”You've got to be as specific as possible. The time is important.”
”Couldn't have been no earlier than ten o'clock and no later than eleven. Probably somewhere in the middle. I'm right good at reading stars. They're the only timepiece I've ever had.''
Madison could hardly contain his excitement. Dave Bunch had said he'd seen Hen's horse leaving the Connor place about ten fifteen. If this man could put Hen ten miles away fifteen minutes later, there was no way anyone could believe he'd killed Troy Sproull.
”Will you state that in court?”
”I ain't going to no court!” The man seemed on the verge of leaving. ”Somebody killed Troy and tried to blame it on your brother. They ain't going to like it much if I come along and punch a hole in what looks like an open-and-shut case. What's to stop them from killing me?”
”I'll guarantee your protection.”
The man laughed scornfully. ”What the h.e.l.l would a fancy city fella like you know about protecting me from the likes of a man who could kill Troy and then watch somebody else hang for it?”
Madison had to fight to control his spurting anger. This man was just like the twins. When would people learn that neat, clean clothes and a sophisticated manner didn't make a man a weakling?
”George will add his guarantee to mine.”
”He's not much better,” the man scoffed. ”Now if Hen was out of jail, you'd have a guarantee worth something. He'd sooner shoot you for asking a question then answer it.”
”Maybe you have more confidence in Marshal Hickok.”
The man spat out a curse. ”He can't never get his nose out of a card game. I could be murdered and my body carried all the way to Mexico before he'd know what happened.”
”Will you talk to a judge?” Madison asked.
”If you give me enough money.” ”Look, I'll pay for your protection. I'll even pay to have you resettled somewhere after the trial, but if it ever came to light that I paid you to give evidence, your testimony won't be worth a hill of beans.”
”Why not? It's the truth.”
”n.o.body would believe you. They'll think you were saying what I paid you to say.”
”You mean you're not going to give me any money?”
”I just told you what I can do,” Madison said.
”But that ain't enough. I want gold. I heard your old man stole plenty of it during the war. Shouldn't be no trouble to give me a pocketful. n.o.body has to know about it.”
”That's a false rumor that got started in Texas,” Madison said, exasperated. ”But it makes no difference. I couldn't give you the gold if I had it.”
”I ain't sticking my neck out for nothing,” the man said, turning to go. ”When you get serious, you go tell Tom. He'll know where to find me,” he called over his shoulder as he headed off into the night.
”Would twenty dollars a day be enough?”
The man stopped. He didn't reply, but he was listening.
”It's legal to pay a man for his time if giving testimony keeps him away from his work.”
”How many days would it take?”
”It could run to several hundred dollars if you agree to stay in town until the trial.”
”I ain't staying at no hotel.”
”It's the best I can do.”
The man remained standing for a full minute. ”I'll let you know,” he said, then turned to go.
”Wait! What's your name? How can I find you?”
”You can't,” the man answered without turning around.
Madison knew that if this man disappeared, Hen's best chance of getting out of jail went with him. Without pausing to consider the consequences, he sprinted forward on cat feet. Before the man could sense anything was wrong, Madison had his hands around his throat. Pressing his windpipe closed to stifle any cry, Madison searched for and found a pressure point. The man slumped to the ground like a dead weight.