Another Dawn (39 page)

      
"Go now. Hurry."

      
"I'm gone. Shane, get Jenny upstairs. This ain't no place for a kid."
 
The door slammed behind the lawman.

      
Luke had to believe Sam. If he said Sofie would recover, then she would. She had to. He willed himself to breathe, determined to be strong for her.

      
"He's dead," someone announced from behind them.

      
Then Luke remembered his accomplice. Maintaining the pressure on Sofie's wound, he glanced over his shoulder at Shane. The boy–no, the man–wore nothing but a burlap sack tucked between his legs and tied at his waist.

      
Hence, the naked toes in the kitchen.

      
"You run on upstairs, Jenny," Shane said.

      
The little girl snapped out of her state of terror when she finally noticed her brother. "You're...naked."

      
"Jenny, show him my room, please," Luke said. "Find him some clothes."
 
That would get Jenny out of here, away from all the blood and–

      
He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling against his rising fear.

      
Jenny paused at his side, looking down at Sofie. "But what about Doctor Sof–"

      
"You heard Marshal Weathers," Luke said, as much for himself as for Jenny. "Sofie's going to be just fine."
 
He looked up and saw Jenny's tears, then shook his head. "She isn't going to die, Jenny."
 

      
Because he wouldn't let Sofie die.

      
Luke blinked back his tears–the suckers were multiplying in droves. He swallowed convulsively as Jenny and Shane started up the stairs. Relief that Latimer was dead and Shane wouldn't hang didn't come. All he could think about was the woman lying here on the floor.

      
He leaned closer and brushed her forehead with his lips, lingering a moment before he pulled back. "I love you, Sofie," he whispered. "Wake up. Open your eyes."

      
On cue, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him, confusion etched across her features. "I..."
 
She tensed and reached for her shoulder. "Shot?"

      
Luke caught her hand before it found her wound. Had she heard his declaration of love? "Yes, Latimer–"

      
"Jenny."
 
Sofie struggled to rise.

      
"She's fine, and you aren't moving until Roman Wilson says you can."
 
Luke brushed her hair from her face and she sighed.

      
"What happened?"

      
"Well, Frank Latimer is dead," Luke said, "so Jenny's safe now, thanks to you."

      
She relaxed some, inclining her head toward her shoulder again. "How bad is it?"

      
"Sam says you'll be fine, and I'll bet he's had more than a little experience with gunshot wounds."

      
Sofie nodded and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you."
 
She reached up with her uninjured arm and cupped his cheek.

      
For a moment, her heart revealed itself in her eyes, and Luke ached to tell her again how much he loved her. He wanted to laugh with her, cry with her, and make love with her for the rest of his life.

      
A plan slowly unfolded in his mind. When he left Redemption, Sofie would go with him. He would announce his intention to leave the Church–a lie on top of a lie–and ask her to marry him. He prayed she wouldn't insist on seeing the specialist in Denver, because if she regained her memory after this, she'd know about
all
his lies. How would he ever convince her he was wrongfully convicted of murder, when he'd continued to lie to her?

      
And now he had much more to lose than merely his pride and his freedom. Sofie was far more important than everything else, and he would do anything to keep the love shining in her eyes when she looked at him.
Anything.

      
Even if it meant living a lie for the rest of his life.

      
But marriage would bind them. Shame slithered through him, but Luke was determined to follow through with his plan.

      
The front door burst open and Roman appeared, his trusty black bag in tow. "She's awake now," Luke said, stating the obvious. "Bleeding's almost stopped."

      
The doctor merely grunted and pulled away the bandanna. With a pair of blunt-tipped scissors, he carefully cut the stained dress until he exposed the angry wound.

      
"This is going to hurt," he warned, then probed her shoulder with his fingers. She flinched and bit her lower lip. "Sorry about that. Bullet missed the bone. That's good."
 
Lifting her slightly, he pulled the damaged dress over her shoulder and looked at her back. "Aha, and here's the best news of all."

      
The back of her dress was soaked with blood, and Luke couldn't imagine anything good about this situation. "What?" he asked.

      
"That's damn good news, and I'll betcha..."
 
Sam chuckled and pulled the afghan from the back of the rocking chair. "Yep, see for yourself."
 
He pointed at the rocker's high back, where a jagged crack marred the golden wood. "There's the bullet."

      
Luke stood and looked closer as Sam used a knife to dig a piece of mangled lead from the wood. Jenny and her brother returned, both staring at the object that could've killed any of them. The bullet was misshapen from the impact, but at least it wasn't embedded in Sofie's shoulder.

      
"That
is
good news."
 
Relief flooded Luke's chest with warmth as he smiled down at Sofie.
 

      
"Let's get her upstairs, where I can clean and dress this properly," Roman said. "I'll need two helpers, to make sure we don't twist her too much."

      
Shane and Jenny thundered down the stairs and went to Sofie's side. "Tell me how to do this, doc, so I don't hurt her."

      
"You were naked," Sofie said weakly, and they all laughed, more from relief than anything else.

      
"Yes, ma'am."
 
Shane grinned and Luke knew he was a good young man who would now have a chance for a long life. "The marshal stole my clothes."

      
"But it didn't stop you none, did it? And I thought I told you to take Miss Jenny up–"

      
"She wouldn't stay."

      
Jenny lifted her chin a notch and folded her arms across her abdomen.

      
"Women," Sam muttered, then went to Frank Latimer's body. "I'd best wait here for the sheriff."

      
Taking Sofie's other side, Luke followed Roman's instructions on how to lift their patient. Jenny followed them upstairs, and once they had Sofie in bed she ordered Luke and Shane from the room.

      
"I'll help Dr. Wilson until Mrs. Fleming–I mean, Mrs. Wilson–gets here," she said. Jenny was like a different person, full of confidence and downright bossy. Luke smiled, though he wanted desperately to remain at Sofie's side.
 

      
Shane followed Luke from the room and closed the door behind them, then they made their way back downstairs just in time to see some Sam covering Frank Latimer's body with the damaged afghan. Good. Luke was sure Jenny wouldn't want to see it again when she came downstairs. Neither did he, for that matter. Sam and Ab were discussing the case, and Zeke stood nearby.

      
"Best get him outta here," Sam said.

      
"Wait."
 
Shane bent down and pulled the afghan aside, then reached into his uncle's vest pocket. The young man pulled a watch from the dead man's pocket and flipped it open. "This was Grandpa's."

      
Grandpa
. The word echoed through Luke's head.

      
"The watch wasn't in Pa's pocket when I woke up that night," Shane said quietly. "I knew the killer had it, and I figured that was Uncle Frank."
 
He sighed.

      
Seeing Zeke reminded Luke that there was one more man here in Redemption who'd been sentenced to die unjustly.
Damn.
 

 
      
"Well, Shane," Ab said quietly, "you're a free man now."

      
"Hallelujah," Zeke said.

      
Though his thoughts continued to drift upstairs to Sofie, Luke pounded Shane on the back and shook his hand. "Congratulations."

      
"Guess I'll help Ab with his report to the circuit judge, then I'll head home," Sam said, looping his thumbs through his holster. "Got me a youngun on the way, and I reckon Lucifer oughta be mended by week's end."

      
Luke watched Zeke's face. Though the old coot said he didn't care about going back to hang, his face drooped like a hound dog's. What could Luke do to stop this? His gut burned and his pulse played "Wipe-Out" on his temples. In stereo.

      
"Let me know when," Zeke said, sighing in resignation. "I'll be ready."

      
"Ready for what?" Sam shifted his weight and gave Zeke a bland look that could've meant anything or nothing. "Oh, did I forget to mention that wanted poster I been carryin'?"

      
The man was being sly again, but Luke couldn't prevent "High Hopes" from drowning out "Wipe-Out."
 
He cleared his throat, deciding someone had to play the marshal's game. "What poster?"

      
Sam looked at Luke, then turned to face Zeke again as he pulled a badly creased paper from his vest pocket. He chuckled as he unfolded the paper and held it out toward Zeke. "It's the darndest thing. This here poster looks just like you, but it ain't you."

      
Zeke's brow furrowed as he looked at the paper. "Well, it sure as hell–"

      
"No, it ain't."
 

      
Luke couldn't stand the suspense anymore, and he stepped around the bloodstained carpet to look at the document for himself. The drawing was of a much younger Zeke Judson. Confused, he read the words beneath the picture.

      
"Zachariah Judson?" He grabbed Zeke and thumped his back, laughing in relief.
 

      
Shane looked over Luke's shoulder. "Yep, that's what it says all right."

      
"I can read 'nuff to tell that there don't say Ezekiel, but..."
 
Zeke scratched his head and flashed a gap-toothed smile. "I'll be gol-durned. I'm happier'n a pup with two peters."

      
"Wahoo!"
 
Ab threw his hat into the air and grabbed Zeke in a bear hug. "You're free, Zeke. Free."

      
Free
. Luke swallowed hard, watching Sam for the punch line. There had to be more to this.

      
"If I was you, though," Sam said thoughtfully, "I wouldn't go back to Arkansas or even Indian Territory for a good long spell. I reckon this here's what Judge Parker'd call a technicality."
 
He chuckled and rubbed his whiskered chin. "The Judge gets right testy when things ain't done proper-like, and that's what I aim to do."

      
"What does tech-nee-cality mean, Marshal?" Ab asked.

      
"Means I can't arrest him, but..."

      
"But if'n I was to go home, somebody else prob'ly could."
 

      
"If it turns out this is really a misprint, and Zachariah Judson is really Zeke Judson."

      
Of course, they all knew the man on the wanted poster was Zeke, but Sam Weathers had found a way to see justice done. Real justice.

      
Luke thrust out his hand and Sam took it. "God bless you, Marshal."
 
He might as well take advantage of playing priest while it lasted. "Not only did you shoot Frank Latimer from clear across the room, but now you've performed a miracle. A real miracle."

      
"Pshaw, the shootin' part's easy, though you and young Shane was gettin' in my way."
 
The marshal chuckled. "But I'll leave the miracles to the Almighty."

      
"Like
not
shooting me or Shane by mistake."

      
Everybody in the room chuckled, but Sam just grinned and shook his head. "Luke, I don't make them kinda mistakes."

      
"Thank God."

      
"I already did."
 
Sam laughed quietly. "Several times, as a matter of fact."