4

    
    She had sat at the kitchen table rehearsing what she would say to him. How easy it was when it was words spoken only to herself, only in her mind.
    Be honest with me, Mike. Whatever you’ve done, tell me, and I’ll stand by you. I know you couldn’t have killed that young girl, so tell me your side of things, Mike. Let me hear the honest truth from you.
    Then she saw him coming up the walk, the girls hurling themselves at him so he’d pick them up in his strong callused hands and strong muscular arms and carry them inside.
    The three of them came bursting through the door, the girls laughing because he was tickling them. He set them down and Tess said, “He said I was five years old, Daddy.”
    “Who said?” Griff said, tickling her again.
    “The sheriff.”
    “The sheriff?” Griff said, fluffing her blond hair. “Was he trying to arrest you?”
    Tess nodded to her mother. “He came here to see Mommy.”
    Griff’s face tightened. “Dodds came here?”
    His wife said, “Yes.”
    “When?”
    “Not long after you walked overtown.”
    “What did he want?”
    She scooched the girls outdoors.
    “How come we have to go outside, Mommy?” Tess said.
    “Because it’s summer and that’s where little girls are supposed to be. Outside.”
    She closed the door and turned around. Griff was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. No matter how hot it got, Griff always liked steaming coffee.
    He went over and sat at the kitchen table. “What did he say?”
    She decided against any sort of coyness or hesitation. “He said you were in trouble.”
    “He say what kind?”
    “There was a bank robbery. A young girl was killed.”
    He stared at her a long time. “You believe that?”
    “I’m not sure. Not about the girl, I mean. I know you well enough to know you could never hurt a child.”
    “How about the bank?”
    She came over and sat down across from him at the table. The oilcloth smelled pleasant. “He said it was right after the wagon works closed. I remember what you were like in those days. Desperate. You thought we might lose the house and everything.”
    “What if I told you that I did help rob that bank?”
    “I’d do my best to understand.”
    “What if I told you that the girl dying was a pure accident?”
    “I’d believe that, too.”
    “Dodds tell you that the girl’s father is here?”
    “Yes. He says the man means to kill you.”
    He met her gaze. He looked sad and tense. “Can’t say I blame him, can you?”
    “It was an accident.”
    “What if it was Eloise or Tess? Would you be so forgiving just because it was an accident?”
    “I reckon not.”
    “Dodds going to come and arrest me?”
    “He wants you to turn yourself in.”
    “How do you feel about that?”
    “I wish you would.”
    “It’d mean prison.”
    “I’ve thought about that, Mike.”
    “Not all women want to wait for their men.”
    She touched his coarse strong hand. “I love you, Mike. You made a mistake but that doesn’t take away any of my feelings for you.”
    “I don’t think I could tolerate prison. I’m too old. Too used to my freedom.”
    “What’s the alternative?”
    “Let this man Ryan try something. Then Dodds will have to run him in.”
    “Won’t Dodds turn on you then?”
    “He doesn’t have any evidence. He just has the word of this ex-Pinkerton man who was through here a while back.”
    She put her head down and said a quick prayer for guidance. Then she raised her head and smiled at him. “The girls and I’ll come see you. Every week if they’ll let us.”
    “It’d be a terrible life for you.”
    “We’d get by.”
    He stared out the back window at the barn where his buggies were. She could tell he was thinking about them. Next to the girls and herself, the buggies were his abiding pride. He picked up his steaming coffee and blew on the hot liquid and said, “Let me think about it a little while.”
    She touched his hand again. “I love you, Mike. And so do the girls. Just remember that.”
    His eyes left the window and turned back to her. “I don’t know what the hell I ever did to deserve you, but I sure am a lucky man.” She laughed and there were tears in her laugh. “You expect me to disagree with that?”
    Then he laughed, too, and went back to staring out the window at the buggies.
    
Jack Dwyer #07 - What the Dead Men Say
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