The Trouble with Patience (20 page)

Strange as it seemed, Patience found herself somewhat reluctant for her mother to leave for her home. This last week they had seemed to find additional common ground. There was less sparring about how Patience should run the boardinghouse, although occasionally her mother would make a complaint—a “suggestion,” she called it—about Patience's menu. There was either too much salt or not enough, chicken served too often, and couldn't they have more beef? This was cattle country, wasn't it? And on and on. There was no pleasing the woman completely, but for some reason she wasn't taking it to heart like before. They had even laughed together on occasion.

“I'm going to miss everyone here,” Charity told her daughter as they worked together on packing. “I never knew that such busyness could be enjoyable. Living alone is very quiet, and even though I like that too, I sure am going to find it rather lonely.”

Patience didn't feel like the statement was an accusation. She paused as she folded another shirtwaist. “You can come
back and visit as often as you like. You may have to room with me, though, if there are no vacancies.” She looked at her mother fondly.

Charity folded her nightgown and robe, placing it in her case, and smiled. “I just might take you up on that. Maybe for the holidays?”

“Absolutely.”

“Or perhaps a wedding?” A brow shot upward and her mother smiled knowingly. “I was wrong about Cody, Patty. It's apparent to me that Jedediah is more suited to your liking.”

“I do care for him, but I'm not sure of his feelings for me.” Patience hoped to change the subject. She lifted the two remaining dresses and began folding one, when something fell to the floor at her feet. She saw her mother's diamond brooch lying on the bedside rag rug. “Mother! Your brooch!” she called out as she bent to retrieve it.

Her mother's mouth dropped open. “Oh my!” she said, accepting it from Patience's hand. “I don't remember putting this in my pocket. I thought we all had looked everywhere. Now I feel truly awful that I accused Emily of taking the brooch.” She sighed heavily.

Patience laid a hand on her mother's. “Don't worry. I don't think Emily ever knew you had done so.”

“You have a very nice partner here. The two of you work so well together. I've been meaning to tell you that.”

“Yes, I agree. Emily has a good head and an even better heart. That's why I knew she would never take your cameo. No harm has been done, and you now have your brooch back.”

Charity beamed. “I'm so happy that you found it, and from
now on I'll be more careful with my valuables. Will you let Jedediah and the residents know that we found it?”

Patience nodded. “Yes, of course. We must get finished or you'll miss the stage.”

Charity leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I'm very proud of you. I realize you had heavy responsibilities taking care of me after your father died. I don't think I ever showed my appreciation, but I want you to know I'm very thankful. I wish you great success.”

Patience had a lump in her throat. She could never remember a time at home when her mother had talked to her this way. Maybe advancing age was softening her outlook. “Thank you” was all she managed to choke out as she put her arms around her mother's shoulders and felt the return hug. It was a new beginning.

After they had said their goodbyes at the depot and her mother boarded the Wells Fargo stagecoach, Patience stood and watched the mailbag being stowed on the top. She finally was mailing her compiled devotionals to Emily's uncle, and the package was going on the same stage as her mother. Emily had happily tucked in a note of introduction. A tiny spark bubbled in her heart with hope the editor might actually like it. She had dedicated it to her mother. She wondered what her mother would think if she knew. She smiled to herself as she waved the coach around the bend and out of sight.

Jedediah had the impression the townsfolk were giving him the cold shoulder—as if he were protecting the man guilty of John's death. John Hargrove had been admired and
respected around the whole area, so it was no surprise that they wanted someone to pay. Jedediah decided the porch with his afternoon cup of coffee wasn't the place to be with folks casting hard stares his direction, so he went back inside.

He'd stopped by to pay Patience for the lunches, but Emily told him she was at the stage depot with her mother. Tomorrow he'd be transporting the prisoner to Helena to see that justice was done, so he probably wouldn't see her for a few days.

He checked on the man—Nathan Watkins was his name—to be sure he was still in the cell, although there was no way he could've escaped.

“How long you plan on keepin' me locked up?” The prisoner glared up at him from the cot.

“I'm hauling you over to the judge in Helena for a hearing. Then you're his problem, and I say good riddance!” Jedediah growled back.

“So why didn't you just hang me like you did Russell Watkins?”

Jedediah froze.
How does he know about Russell?
He said “Russell Watkins
.”
Is he . . . ?

“Why? He a friend of yours?” Jedediah tried to keep his tone nonchalant.

“More than a friend—he was my older brother, but you hanged him.” The man dropped his face into his hands. “It should've been me,” he said, his voice so low Jedediah could barely hear the words.

Jed grunted. Nathan was a decent-looking fellow. Should've been married with two kids bouncing on his knee by now, but instead he'd turned to stealing
.
Jed stared through the bars at the man.

Nathan continued to hang his head for a moment. When he finally lifted it, his eyes appeared vacant. “And now it'll be me,” he said under his breath.

Through gritted teeth Jedediah responded, “Then you'll receive your just reward, if I have anything to do with it.”

“I reckon, but I didn't kill John Hargrove,” Nathan declared once more.

“Then who did?” Jed banged his hand against the cell bar and it rattled ominously.

“I don't know.”

Jedediah tried to stare him down. “Know, but won't tell?”

“I may be a rustler, but I ain't no murderer!”

Jedediah stalked back to his desk, but he couldn't concentrate. With the grim looks he was getting from the townsfolk, he wasn't sure he should venture out to get their suppers. Maybe Joe would drop in. Besides, now his appetite had all but disappeared.

Jedediah awoke to Patience standing over him. He jerked upright and blinked at her. “I must have fallen asleep,” he told her, “but what a nice way to wake up—your beautiful face right above me.” She gave him a coy smile, then straightened, but he took her hand. “I've missed you,” he admitted, and saw her sweet smile of surprise.

She whispered with a soft tone, “I missed you too.” She looked down at his hand holding hers, and he chuckled at her discomfort over his compliment.

“I've never—well, no one's ever called me ‘beautiful' before, Jed,” she said, pressing her free hand against her face.
“Do you really think that's so?” she whispered after a glance over her shoulder at Nathan in his cell.

Jed slowly stood and pulled her by the hand over to the corner, out of sight of his prisoner. “You sure are, Patience,” he said, still holding her hand and staring into those green eyes. “You're beautiful in a lot of ways, not only in the way you look. I noticed it when you were taking care of Judith Hargrove, how gentle and caring you were.” He put his arms around her, and he could feel her hug him back.

“Someone could come in any time, Jed,” she finally whispered as she pulled away, and reluctantly he let her go.

“Is that food I smell?” he asked.

She laughed. “Is that all you can think about?” She led him over to the basket she'd placed on his desk.

He chuckled. But then he said, lowering his voice, “Hardly—lately all I can think about is you.”

“I like to hear that, Jed. Thank you. Now, this is your plate, and I made one up for the prisoner.”

“Sounds like a fair deal to me,” he quipped. “Hope mine is bigger and better.”

They stood in front of the cell door with the plate of food, and Jedediah unlocked it.

Nathan jumped up off the cot and stared through the bars, his jaw hanging open. “What the devil are
you
doing here, Patience?”

Patience reached out to one of the cell's bars to steady herself while Jedediah took the plate from her shaking hand. “What on earth are
you
doing here, Nathan?” she finally managed to ask.

Jedediah shot a look from Patience to Nathan and back again. “You
know
him?”

“Yes, I do,” she croaked out. “Jedediah, can you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

“I don't know if that's a good—”

“Please, Jed,” she said.

Reluctantly he agreed. “Five minutes, no more.” She took the plate back from Jedediah and went inside the cell. Jedediah shut the door and walked back to his desk.

She'd have to try and explain it all to Jed later, but for now she handed the plate to the prisoner. He went to the cot and sat down, the dinner balanced on his knees. She took a seat on the other cot facing him.

Patience wasted no time. “Why didn't I ever hear from you after Russell died, Nathan?”

“I was hiding out and couldn't take the chance of being caught.” Nathan ran his hand through his hair in extreme agitation. He placed the plate of food on the cot and jumped to his feet, pacing the distance between them.

“Why? Were you in trouble?”

The man stopped his pacing to stare at her. “Don't you know? Russell was hanged by Jedediah Jones, your own town marshal.”

Patience felt her heart turn to lead. She could hardly take a breath. “How—why do you say that? How do you know Jedediah did it?” she stammered out, her mind swirling with far more questions than she could express.

“I just watched him sign my arrest papers,” he spit out, “charging me with rustling and the murder of John Hargrove. He signed them with his flamboyant ‘X,' the signature he's been known for.
‘Vigilante X.'
It's not that he can't read . . . more like a badge of arrogance and power when he was one of the Montana Vigilantes. They were responsible for stringing up road agents whenever they thought it was necessary. All lawful, I might add,” he finished, bitterness filling his voice.

Patience sat stunned with this new information about Jedediah. How she wished he'd told her all this himself. “But why did they hang Russell? Was he guilty? Or—were you the thief?”

Nathan gave a quick nod and finally sat back down on the cot. “Me and Russell stole to add to our small herd so we could make money quick. I thought we'd never be caught. Russell paid for it with his life, but it should've been me. There was another man, Cody. I can't forgive myself, and I
doubt God will.” Nathan's head was once more in his hands, and he groaned pitifully.

Cody too?
Patience tried to absorb all he was telling her, and she found that she believed him. She shifted on the cot, and finally said, “God forgives us no matter what we've done, Nathan, so why shouldn't we forgive ourselves?”

“I doubt He will forgive me,” he argued.

“When you are in doubt, see what God says in the Scriptures.”

“I bet you've never had
those
kinds of doubts, Patience.”

“But I have, Nathan, and I'm not too proud to say so.”

He simply stared across the small cell at her.

“The man you mentioned, Cody,” she said slowly. “Was his last name Martin?”

“Yes, he just happened to be in the wrong place, and the vigilantes thought he was part of the gang.”

Patience licked her lips and tried to still her heartbeat. Things were falling into place now. She felt sorry for Nathan. “Cody's alive and works at the Cross Bar Ranch,” she said softly.

“What did you say?
Alive?
He can't be! They strung him up, and Jedediah was the one that gave the word.” Nathan was staring wide-eyed now.

“It's a long story.” Patience heard Jedediah returning from across the room. “I'll pray for you, Nathan.” She wanted to ask if Russell ever had any intention of marrying her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not now.

“I'm as good as convicted,” Nathan solemnly said. “We both know that.”

“Time's up!” Jedediah called, turning the key and unlocking the cell.

“Goodbye, Nathan,” Patience murmured, giving Nathan one last look before she slipped out the cell door.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she said, her lips held tight, as she led Jed over to the corner.

“Tell you
what
?”

“That you were once known as ‘Vigilante X' and responsible for
hangings
!” Patience knew her voice was loud and shrill, but she couldn't help herself.

Jedediah's face held a stunned look, as though she'd hit him over the head with one of her prized frying pans. When he didn't answer for a moment, she started for the door. But he finally said, “Because I didn't see how that could matter now.”

Patience swung back, trembling. “Matter!
Matter?
When you were responsible for
killing the man I'd hoped to marry
?”

He looked genuinely bewildered. “What man? I didn't know you were intended for someone else . . . you never said.”

“It doesn't matter now, does it, because Russell is dead,” she said flatly.

“Russell? You're talking about Russell Watkins? You mean you'd have married a
cattle thie
f
?” he shot back.

She lowered her gaze, crestfallen. “I didn't know that until just now,” she said, her voice low.

“I've never hanged an innocent person.”

“I need to go. I just—” She picked up her skirts and spun around to leave. Suddenly loud voices were heard outside. Jedediah locked the front door, then looked out the window, a scowl on his face. A crowd was shouting for the prisoner to be released to them.

“They were here earlier with threats to take Nathan,” Jedediah muttered. “It seems they believe they can administer justice better than me—like I'm not the peacemaker.” He
dropped his hand from the window sash. “Monty's with them now. I never thought I'd live to see my best friend turn against me.”

Suddenly a shower of rocks hit the window, and Patience jumped. “Step back, Patience. Looks like some very angry people in the street. I don't want you to get hurt. Folks don't agree with me taking Nathan to Helena tomorrow.”

“What will you do?”

“I'll go out there, try to talk some sense into Monty and them. But you stay inside here. Some of these guys are just along for the ruckus, and they've been drinking. No telling what they're liable to do.” He took her elbow and guided her to a chair away from the window. “Stay here and don't move.”

Patience did as she was told, knowing he was right. For her own safety, Jedediah didn't want the crowd to know she was there, she reasoned. She sat down away from the window as she'd been instructed, turning over in her mind all the new information she'd learned today.

———

Jedediah checked that his badge was in plain sight, lifted his carbine from the wall, added shells, and hoped he wouldn't have to use them. He was not about to let them take the man that his posse had hunted down, and he sure didn't need any more trouble. But it riled him that a handful of renegades wanted to do just that.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen this kind of behavior that turned into hanging mobs. He eased over and peered out the window at the men milling about in the street—Monty at the center of it. He would try to reason with them.

He slid the lock open, stepped out onto the porch, and locked the door behind him. Somebody poked Monty and
pointed to Jedediah. Everyone quieted down, their attention riveted on first one, then the other of the two men.

Monty spoke first. “Jedediah, you need to turn that low-down varmint over to us. If you're feelin' squirrely 'bout what needs to be done here, we'll see to it for you. Nobody'll be the wiser.”

Jedediah simply stood there for a moment. The crowd waited, but the tension in the air was intense. “He's not going anywhere until I say so, and where I say.” Jedediah's response was both calm and unmistakable. “I think the summer heat must have baked your brain. Since when do any of you want to take the law into your own hands? Those kind are called outlaws.”

“Since that man killed John Hargrove, that's when!” Monty shouted, and the crowd joined in with their agreement.

“We have no proof of that,” Jedediah told them in a loud voice.

“He's stole John's cattle twice!” a burly man in the crowd yelled.

“I'm not discussing this any further with you. Go home peacefully, and leave this matter to me and the law. I was still the marshal last time I looked at my badge.” The setting sun glinted on it when he glanced over at Monty. “That goes for you too.” Monty grimaced and threw his cigarette down to grind it into the dust with his heel.

The small group of rabble-rousers was surrounded by a growing crowd of curious onlookers. Monty and his cohorts were grumbling among themselves. Jedediah wasn't sure what they would decide—if they would simply go away and let him handle this or not. He raised his voice again and said, “Everyone go on home now to your suppers. The law will do
what it's supposed to do—protect the innocent and prosecute the guilty.”

Some in the crowd began moving away, and Jedediah stepped backward, quickly unlocked the door, and slipped inside, securing it behind him. It wouldn't be safe out there for a while, he knew.

He strode over to where Patience sat, back straight, barely looking at him. “Patience, you'll have to stay here until those men are gone. It's not safe for you to leave yet.”

“What's going on?” Nathan demanded from his cell. His face was white as he held on to the bars and stared at his jailer.

Jedediah walked over to him. “I'm afraid they're after your hide.”

Beads of sweat had formed across Nathan's forehead, and his shirt was drenched. “So what are you gonna do? Turn me out?”

“I'm thinking about it.” Jedediah snorted. “Then I could be rid of you.”

“Did you tell them that I didn't kill John?” Nathan put in, eyes wide with fear. “Well? Did you?”

Jedediah grunted. “I told them we have no proof and to leave the rest to me. But to tell the truth, there's about ten of them and one of me.” Jed turned on his heel and walked back to his desk. It was nearly dark so he struck a match, lit the kerosene lamp, and fixed his gaze on Patience. “I'm afraid you're stuck here with me for a while, just to play it safe.”

“I'd rather go home,” she muttered.

“Sure you would, but once they know you're in here with me, they may not take so kindly to a virtuous woman who spends time with a vigilante marshal.”

Patience harrumphed. “I'm not afraid of them.”

Even angry
, he thought,
she's awfully
attractive with her green eyes snapping like wildfire.
“'Course you're not, but I am.”

“You?”

Jedediah sighed. “Yes, I know when it's the better part of wisdom to be cautious. I don't want a shooting, and you might be harmed, just out of their cussedness. I
am
afraid when a crowd of men takes it into their minds to do the dispensing of justice.”

“Yes, I just bet you know all about ‘dispensing justice.'” Patience folded her arms and looked away.

“Look, can we just let that go for now?”

She blew out a long breath but didn't answer. He decided to take that as a momentary truce.

“All right,” he said. “I'll brew us a pot of coffee. I'm afraid we'll be here a while.” He couldn't help but be glad she was here with him, but he sure wished the circumstances were different. Just an hour ago he was pretty sure she did care for him. And now . . . ?

He went over to the stove, stoked the fire, and started the water boiling for coffee. He had a blinding headache anyway. Those things she accused him of had hurt him, but he also realized he had hurt her even worse, though certainly unknowingly at the time.
I gave the
order that took the life of her beau.
What kind of forgiveness would that take?