Sundown, p.13
Sundown, page 13
Wyatt chose to wait it out. He pulled up a stool and sat beside a hound dog doing the same thing, waiting for the storm to end.
When the storm ended, Wyatt left the livery stable and stepped through soft mud until he reached the wooden walkway. He made it to the hotel, where he scraped his boots on a mat and hung his hat and jacket on a rack inside the café door.
He sat in the café and took a pencil and a few sheets of paper from his pocket. He’d barely made it through two sentences of his opening statement. He rubbed his hand on his forehead and thought of the offer Hackett had made to Travis. When Wyatt confronted the man, Wyatt had seen fear and uncertainty in the prosecutor’s eyes. He hoped it wouldn’t be the only time.
Travis deserved someone like Sam Hampton. Sadie’s father would have figured out a way to find out the identity of the woman who could offer Travis an alibi, and Hackett never would have tried a stunt like talking directly to the defendant if Sam Hampton was the defense attorney.
But Sam Hampton wasn’t Travis’s attorney. He recalled one of his brother’s favorite quotes, “You play with the hand you’re dealt.”
As he focused on the paper on the table, someone wearing a purple satin dress with mud clinging to her shoes, stopped at his table. Grace Parker.
They hadn’t spoken since their uncomfortable encounter in her room.
To his relief, she flashed a friendly smile. “May I sit down?”
“Of course.” He stood and slid a chair out and then sat across from her.
“Getting ready for trial on Monday?”
“Trying to. I’m working on my opening statement.” With the evidence Hackett would bring out in trial, he’d better make it a damn compelling one.
“I’ve been thinking.” Grace patted his hand, “What if I testify Travis was with me that night? People would believe it because… well, they’d believe it.”
Hackett’s charm and charisma wouldn’t stop him from verbally ripping Grace to shreds. For starters, he’d ask why she waited so long to tell anyone and had anyone seen them together. “You’d commit perjury to help Travis?”
“To help you, sweetie.” She squeezed his hand. With her hand on his, Wyatt peered over Grace’s shoulder and stopped breathing. Framed in the threshold between the hotel lobby and the cafe were the last two people he ever expected this side of the Rockies. What were they doing in Sundown? Reminding himself to breathe, he snatched his hand from Grace’s. “Sadie. Mr. Hampton!”
CHAPTER 19
They looked like two people who'd stepped out of the front window of a fancy San Francisco store. Sadie, dressed to the nines in a flattering green silk dress, white flowered hat and matching gloves, advanced toward the table with her father, whose own attire would make a peacock feel ashamed. Only the mud on Sadie's black shoes was out of place.
Wyatt rose, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. His voice squeaked. “Mr. Hampton. Sadie. What are you doing here?”
“Looks like we got here just in time, Daddy.” From her cold expression, Sadie had seen Grace’s hand on his. Her eyes swept over Grace’s purple satin, low-cut dress.
Sadie’s father, a man of considerable distinction, cast a knowing glance at the gold timepiece that dangled from his vest pocket. After a cursory examination, he tucked it back away with a certain deliberate flair, as if to say time was but a trifling matter in his world. The attorney's strong chin bore a rather menacing posture, and the harsh lines carved into his face spoke of a lifetime steeped in trials and tribulations. Those familiar cold, dark eyes of his, fixed their intense gaze upon Wyatt, as if he were a defendant about to confess to his misdeeds.
Summoning his courage, Wyatt shook his hand and gave Sadie a chaste kiss on the cheek. He gestured to Grace. “This is Grace Parker. She’s... a hostess at the Purple Sage. We were discussing her possible testimony. She was just leaving.”
“Hello.” Sadie pursed her lips and nodded toward Grace. “Lovely dress.”
“My work clothes.” Grace’s friendly smile toward Sadie’s father confirmed her comfort around men, far more than women. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hampton, and Miss Hampton. And congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
“Nuptials!” Mr. Hampton bellowed.
The café grew quiet when Sadie’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. Her gaze darted between Wyatt and her father. A flush on her face crept up her neck. Eyes fluttering, she sank onto a table chair.
“She fainted! Damn.” Grace patted Sadie’s hand.
“Don’t just stand there,” Hampton shouted to Wyatt, “Get her some water. “
Wyatt snatched a glass from his table and brought it to Sadie’s lips. “Take a sip.”
Sadie sipped the water and her eyes flickered open. She sat up straight. “Daddy, Wyatt and I aren’t engaged. I guess you could say officially we’re courting, that’s all. If he were to desire my hand in marriage, he would ask your permission first like any gentleman would.”
Grace’s hand went to her face. “I’m sorry. I must have you confused with some other couple I heard about.” She thumbed toward Wyatt. “Like he said, I was just leaving.”
She disappeared through the door in a blur of green satin and petticoats like a tumbleweed pushed by a gust of wind.
For an uncomfortable minute, Sam Hampton, Sadie and Wyatt sat around the café table. “Are you sure you’re all right?” her father asked.
“Of course, daddy.”
Hampton scanned Wyatt’s western duds, his yellow shirt, black leather vest and a blue bandana tied around his neck. “I didn’t realize you’d taken a job as a ranch hand.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Sadie reached across the table and squeezed Wyatt’s hand, much as Grace had done. “It’s so good to see you again... darling.”
Wyatt forced himself to remain calm. “I’m happy to see you both, but what brings you to Sundown?”
Sadie raised her eyebrows. “Your letter, silly.”
Sam Hampton appeared to have settled down as he gained control of the situation, “Sadie, let me read your letter. I decided you could use some help. She asked to come along, and I’m beginning to understand why.”
“Help?”
“But only if you want it,” Sadie patted Wyatt’s hand.
Sam Hampton shook his head. “We’ve been in town less than two hours. Half the people like your brother, and the other half think he’s guilty. Doesn’t bode well when it comes time to select a jury.”
The man had read the town right. “Reckon so.” Sam and Wyatt stood when Sadie slid her chair back and rose. “I need to freshen up. I’ll go to my room for a while so you two can talk.”
As she left the café and entered the hotel lobby, Sam and Wyatt returned to their chairs.
Sam folded his hands on the table. “Look, son. I’m not here to take over your case.”
“I was hoping you would.”
“Nonsense. I came to watch the trial and offer any suggestions. To that end, I’d suggest we sit down before the trial, and you can bring me up to date.”
Sadie’s father wrinkled his brow, “Now, what in tarnation did Sadie mean when she said we need to talk?”
Wyatt let out a deep sigh. Sam Hampton’s tone, so heavy and tyrannical, was a constant reminder that he found himself shackled in the man's law office. But here in Sundown, that sunbaked little frontier town; the air was thick with possibility, not the confines of Sacramento.
When in doubt, tell the truth. “The day in Sacramento when I told you I received a telegram about my brother being arrested for murder and needing to take time off, I’d come to ask for Sadie’s hand in marriage.”
Sam rubbed his chin. “Back then, I would have said yes, clapped you on the back and lit a cigar. But now…”
Sam pointed a gnarled finger at Wyatt. “Like I said, we’ve only been in town two hours, and I’ve already heard about you and this woman who works for the local newspaper. Sadie heard the talk, too. Then we walk in, you're holding hands with a… with a saloon girl.”
“Grace is a friend from school, and Emma owns the paper.” Wyatt tried to control his temper. “Her father died six months ago, and she’s working hard to keep the Gazette afloat. She’s been gathering information about the murder of Silas Thornton. She’s helped me a great deal.”
“That’s what we hear. And we heard you took this woman to a dance last Saturday night.”
“Emma.”
“Right, you and Emma.”
“No, I mean Emma’s here.” Wyatt nodded to the doorway.
Emma dropped a stack of newspapers on the hotel counter and headed for the café with a few more. She wore her usual work clothes, trousers, flannel shirt and a ponytail beneath her old hat. A smudge of printer’s ink swept across her forehead, with more on her hands.
When she placed the newspapers on the table, Wyatt rose and introduced her to Sam. “Emma Sullivan, this is Sam Hampton, Sadie’s father and my boss.”
Emma shook Sam’s hand with a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hampton. I’ve heard so much about you.”
After the handshake, he looked at the black ink on his palm.
“I’m so sorry.” She snatched a napkin from the table and wiped his hand, succeeding only in smearing it. “If they don’t have turpentine, citrus juice will work.”
Hampton took the napkin, dipped it in a glass of orange juice on the table, wiped his hand, and tossed the napkin on the table. “You’re right, my dear.”
As the man scanned her attire, Emma looked at her shirt. “Pardon my appearance, Mr. Hampton.”
“You don’t have to apologize, my dear. Journalism is a noble profession. You look lovely. Your eyes, twin stars ablaze, ignite the night. Your laughter, music rare, a pure delight.”
Emma laughed until she snorted. “Sorry. No man’s ever quoted poetry on my account before.”
“A loss for all the men you’ve known.” Hampton wasn't a man who liked being laughed at, but he didn’t seem to object to Emma’s laughter. It was clear he approved of, if not was smitten with Emma.
Wyatt rose as Sadie approached the table. Her smile tightened, taking in Emma’s worn leather boots, her faded flannel shirt, and unruly auburn hair that peeked from her dusty hat.
Sadie flashed a friendly greeting, but her eyes showed a flicker of something else, a subtle narrowing that belied the polite smile she offered Emma. He recognized the look he hadn’t seen since Sacramento, the first embers of jealousy sparking to life within her.
Wyatt introduced them, “Sadie, this is Emma Sullivan.”
With condescension dripping from her voice, Sadie held out her hand. “Oh, the newslady I’ve heard so much about.”
Her father pulled her hand back. “Don’t shake her hand.”
“Nonsense, Daddy, I’m wearing gloves.” She shook Emma’s hand.
Emma flashed the smile that he remembered from the first day he arrived in Sundown. “Sadie Hampton, Wyatt’s betrothed. I’ve heard of you from every corner of this town.”
Tension hung over the café like two gunfighters meeting at high noon. “I’ve heard some about you, too, but not from Wyatt.”
Sadie sat and looked around the café. Her hand touched the tablecloth. “This reminds me of a little café in Venice. Remember Daddy? Though I suspect the food is not up to European standards.”
In Sacramento Wyatt had often ignored when Sadie wielded her wealth like a weapon. After nearly two weeks he remembered her behavior all too well. It wasn’t a flattering look.
Indignation rose in Emma’s voice. “Our café doesn’t have a chef, just a cook, but the beans are slow-cooked for hours, the chili is a family recipe, and he makes the pies from scratch every morning. Try the T-bone. You get spuds and pees with the steak and all the bread you can eat.”
A smile curled from Sadie’s lips. “Spuds and pees. How are the other restaurants in town?”
Wyatt glanced at Emma, his eyes meeting hers in a silent plea. She wasn’t helping, and from her look had no intention to. He could have cut tension between the two women with a knife. Sadie didn’t appear to notice but her father did.
Sam let out a deep sigh and glared at Wyatt like he’d caused the stress in the room. “Perhaps Sadie and I should get back to our rooms. Looks like Wyatt and Miss Sullivan have business to talk over.”
Sadie patted her golden locks. “I am a bit tired, Daddy. It was a long train ride, and I need to get someone to clean the mud off my shoes.”
Emma handed Sam a newspaper. “The first paper is free to people from out of town.” She gave one to Sadie.
Sam took the paper and scanned the headline. “McCrea Trial Starts Monday. I look forward to reading it. Oh, and Wyatt, why don’t you stop by my room, and we can continue our conversation. Room 2B.”
Sam took his daughter’s arm and led her through the hotel lobby.
Emma took a seat at the table. “Did I say something wrong?”
Wyatt dropped onto his chair. “I haven’t formally asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage. I was about to when I got the telegram telling me Travis had been arrested that I thought came from Sheriff Black. Someone else sent it.”
“Wait.” Emma sat. “Sawyer Black didn’t telegram you? Why didn’t you tell me?” She banged her hand on the table, rattling the place setting and drawing looks of disapproval from several customers.
“I found out from the telegraph operator, Willie Thompson, that he did a favor for a woman who hid her identity, so he didn’t know who it came from. I didn’t say anything because I thought it might have come from you.”
Emma held up her hand. “Am I always the first woman you think of?”
Wyatt ignored the double meaning of her words. “I’m not sure who sent it or why.”
“Somebody who thought you could help your brother. My money’s on the woman who dropped the hanky in Travis’s buggy.”
Emma glanced toward the hotel lobby. “I take it you didn’t expect your fiancée and her father to show up for the trial.”
As if he didn’t have enough pressure with the trial in less than three days. “It was a surprise.”
“She’s lovely, by the way.” Emma drummed her fingers on the table. “I reckon I’ll see you in court Monday.” She gathered the rest of the newspapers and stood.
“Emma.”
“What?” Her eyes glistened unexpectedly.
“When this is over, we need to…”
Emma led Wyatt to the corner beneath a Boston Fern that hung from the ceiling, out of earshot and away from prying eyes. She spoke in a whisper. “When this hullabaloo is over, you’re going back to Sacramento. If there was a speck of doubt about us, and there never really was, that ended when Sadie and her father stepped off the train.”
A tear escaped the corner of her eye. She touched the wetness on her cheek. “I’m bleeding.”
“You’re not bleeding. It’s just a tear.”
“To me, it’s the same thing.” Wyatt squeezed her hand.
Emma pulled her hand back. “I’m being silly. One dance. One kiss. What did I think you were going to do, give up your career and a gorgeous rich fiancée?”
“It was more than a kiss; more than one dance, and we both know it.”
“You wouldn’t be happy in Sundown. Now go back and ask her poem-quoting daddy for her hand in marriage, then cram for the start of trial like it was a final exam.”
Wyatt returned to his chair as Emma gathered up the newspapers on the table then hurried out the door and disappeared.
Wyatt climbed the stairs of the hotel and walked toward Sam Hampton's room, 2B. Before he could knock, Sadie, in a thin housecoat, waved to him from the other end of the hall. He hesitated a moment, then headed toward her.
When he reached the door to her room, she wrapped both arms around him, pressed him against the wall and gave him a toe-curling kiss.
Her lips were soft and warm, and the rest of her was no less inviting.
Sadie whispered. “I tipped the hotel clerk to give me a room at the other end from Daddy. I thought you could sneak up here and spend the night. I’ve missed our time together.”
Wyatt found himself fighting his emotions. A part of him wanted to tell Sadie he was uncertain about the future he and Sadie might share. Yet, Sadie, his betrothed had traveled a goodly distance, a thousand miles to be precise, just to share her chamber with him. He wrestled with his thoughts, caught between honesty and an urge to indulge in the comforts of her generous invitation.
Sadie cocked her head. “Is something wrong?” “Your father needs to talk to me.”
She took his hand and pressed it against her breast. “I need you too.”
Wyatt stared into her eyes. From a legal standpoint, Sadie might be his fiancée, but he couldn’t ignore his doubts about their future and his feelings; he could no longer ignore Emma. He’d made enough mistakes with women in the past week. He wouldn't make another. “I have to talk to your father about the case.” He retrieved his hand.
Sadie’s eyes widened, and her face flushed. She turned and slammed the door behind her.
Emma and Sadie were both mad at him. He always thought his knowledge and skill as an attorney would translate into dealing with women. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
He headed down the hall, paused in front of Sam Hampton’s room. He wasn’t going to ask for Sadie’s hand, not until the trial was over and he knew where things stood with Travis, with Sadie and with Emma.
Wyatt set one hand on the hallway wall. Sadie and her father’s arrival had added to the weight of responsibility that pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, threatening to crush him under its relentless grip.
With a mighty exhalation, he set his sights on the staircase, striding with the sort of purpose that suggests a man on the right side of a decision- though how right that side turned out to be was a matter still to be seen. He reached the front doors of the hotel and made a beeline for Clementine In a flash, he mounted the mare, and with a heart pounding like an old steam engine, he galloped out of town. It was a quick escape; in case a moment's reflection might cause him to hesitate and rethink the whole sorry business.
