A few embers glowed when she stirred up the debris in the fire ring, and she built up a blaze. The day was so hot, sweat beaded on her forehead. While she let the fire burn down to useful coals, she walked slowly to the doorway of the new house. Crockett had promised a sturdy door when the roof was finished. It had all seemed so full of promise. But he might be sitting in jail this afternoon.
She squared her shoulders. She and Ben had both seen her father’s attack. Crockett did nothing wrong. Even so, he might have to go to trial. She had heard of men being charged with crimes they said they didn’t do, or that weren’t their fault, and having to go to court anyway, and sometimes spend years in prison. Of course, being a Hart would help Crockett’s case. Now, if Ben was the one who had accidentally killed Pa, would he go free? She wanted to think he would, especially since she and Crockett could testify for him.
Shaking off her troubled thoughts, she went back to the fireside. This week, her few pots had stayed in a crate nearby, and she pulled out the coffeepot and took it over to the well to fill it. The brew was beginning to steam when she heard hoofbeats on the road from town. Ben, Houston, and Sheriff Watson came into view, and Jane stood motionless near the fire, watching their horses jog toward her. Bowie’s hammering stopped. Crockett came silently and stood beside her. He didn’t say anything, but Jane felt much stronger, just having the tall, lean man at her side.
The sheriff swung to the ground and let his chestnut horse’s reins drop.
“Miss Haymaker. Crockett.”
“Sheriff,” Crockett said.
“I understand there’s been a tragedy here.”
“Yes, sir. Boyd’s over there.”
They all turned and looked toward the body. Bowie had come down the ladder and walked toward them.
Ben and Houston dismounted, and Houston took Ben’s reins from him. “You go on with the sheriff. I’ll tend the horses.”
Ben nodded and led the way.
Jane looked at Crockett. He held out his arm, as if they were going into church. She took it, because her legs were feeling a little shaky. They walked together to stand in the dust of the dooryard. The sheriff stood beside her pa’s body, and Bowie pulled off the horse blanket. Ben waited off to one side, not watching, but looking off toward the hills and the cave.
The sheriff knelt down. Jane walked over to Ben and put her hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her and then away. She was startled when she realized his eyes were filled with tears. She rubbed his shoulder lightly.
“It’s going to be all right, Ben,” she whispered.
“Is it?”
She didn’t have a real answer.
After a moment, Ben said, “They’d better not blame Crockett.”
“I don’t think they will.”
Ben turned suddenly and scooped her into his arms. Jane was startled but then returned his embrace, comforted by his warmth and the fact that he had reached out to her. They’d had such little loving contact since their ma died. Once in a great while they had hugged or held hands when they felt especially sad, usually when Pa had been drinking and they’d had to hide to avoid his beatings.
“Don’t you feel guilty, Ben.”
“I do,” he said, his voice cracking.
“I figured.” She held on to him a moment longer, then gently pulled away. She touched his cheek, and he looked full at her. “It’s not Crockett’s fault, and it’s not your fault. Pa brought this on himself.”
Behind her, the sheriff cleared his throat. She turned to face him.
“Crockett’s given me his story,” he said. “I’d like you both to tell me how it was. You first, Ben.”
“Well, we were sitting on that bench talking, Crockett and I. I kinda forgot Pa was in the barn, sleeping.” He glanced at Crockett. “Janie brought us some cake, and Pa all of a sudden came out of the barn. He heard something we said, I guess.”
“Who said?”
“Jane and I, I reckon,” Ben said.
“And what were you talking about?”
The sheriff gazed steadily at Ben, and he lowered his eyes. “It was something private.”
“Best tell me, son,” the sheriff said.
“It’s all right,” Crockett said.
Jane stepped forward. “I found some money about a week ago in a cave.” She pointed toward the hills. “It’s up yonder, and we’ve been sleeping up there since the house burned. But Chisholm Hart is looking into it.” She looked to Crockett, hoping he would corroborate her story.
“That’s right,” Crockett said. “I asked Jane if I could show one of the bills to my brother, and he thought the Rangers might have some information on it. Maybe I should have told you first.”
The sheriff was quiet for a moment. “Well, you and Chisholm are family.”
“Yes, but I mostly wanted him to see it because it had been there a long time, and I thought maybe it had to do with an old case he knew about.”
“I see,” the sheriff said.
Jane wondered how offended he was that she and Crockett had consulted a Ranger, rather than going to him.
“I’ll ask my brother to stop by and tell you anything you want to know about it,” Crockett said. Was it too little, too late? Jane had the uneasy feeling the sheriff might hold it against them that they hadn’t come directly to him. Maybe he would go harder on them because of that.