Wrong Husband Read online

  Amos and his friends thrust the fishing rods forward, almost hitting him in the face with them.

  “Alright,” Owen uncertainly said. He gently pushed the fishing rods back. “You three need to be careful. Big Roy isn’t one to mess with. He’s a dangerous man.”

  “We know!” another boy said with a big grin. “I hear he killed two guards when he got out of prison. He didn’t even need a weapon. He just used his bare hands.”

  Wonderful. Terrific. Just what Owen wanted to hear! He was sure the boy was exaggerating...but still... He shivered.

  Jenny walked over to him as she wiped her hands on a towel. “What is it?” She glanced at the boys and smiled. “Hello.”

  “Big Roy is in town,” Owen whispered to her. Turning to the boys, he said, “You best be getting on home to your mothers. They’ll want you to be safe.”

  “Oh, alright.” Amos winked at him before he and his friends darted across the grass to their horses.

  Jenny shot him a curious look. “What was that about?”

  He rolled his eyes. “They think they’re going to help me. I told them to go home.”

  She pulled him close to her. “Remember what I said.”

  He nodded. “I’m doing this for you and Jeremy,” he softly said. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her, praying this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to do so. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. And you’ll make it. You have a family to come back to.”

  Walking over to Jeremy who had been taking his time with eating the eggs on his plate, Owen picked him up and gave him a tight hug. “I love you, squirt.”

  “I love you too, Pa.”

  Fighting back his tears, Owen set his son down and headed to the hooks by the door so he could grab his gun and holster to slip around his waist. It wasn’t easy to fasten it with his shaky hands but he managed. Then he slipped on his coat and put his hat on his head. Turning to a worried looking Jenny, he said, “This is it.”

  She ran over to him and gave him another hug. “Remember to be positive.”

  He nodded and tightened his hold on her, noting the sweet scent of honey soap in her hair and the softness of her skin. Funny how such details became vivid in that instant, but maybe that’s what happened when a man wondered if he’d ever see his wife again. Before she could catch him crying, he wiped his eyes and then pulled away from her. Clasping her hands, he took a deep breath. “I’ll be back.”

  Even though he suspected she wondered about it as much as he did, she agreed.

  After another kiss, he reluctantly left to get his horse. As he rode off the property, he glanced back one more time to see Jenny and Jeremy watching him from the porch. I have to do this for them. I can do it. Looking forward, he exhaled. “I have to do this.”

  ***

  By the time Owen reached town, he’d said his final prayers to make amends for anything bad he’d done in his life, figuring it couldn’t hurt to have the slate clean if he was about to meet his maker. Too late he thought of a will, but then, he didn’t really have anything to his name, so he had nothing to leave Jenny and Jeremy.

  So, as far as he was concerned, he had everything settled and could leave this life in peace. He’d done all he could do. Now, it was up to fate to handle the details, no matter how grim those details might be. He sighed. He didn’t fancy himself a pessimist, but he supposed a man facing the possibility of death was permitted a ‘glass half empty’ moment.

  As he turned the corner of the block that would take him to the jailhouse, Sheriff Meyer waved him over to the side of the street. Owen obeyed and got off his horse.

  The sheriff took the reins for him. “Big Roy must have a connection in town. We don’t know where he’s hiding, but rumor is that he was with one of the saloon girls last night. By the time I got there, he was gone. We thought if you walked around a bit, he might come out of hiding. Might as well start with a walk past the saloon.”

  Even though he didn’t want to, Owen gave the obligatory glance over his shoulder at where the saloon was located.

  “Irving’s in that area. He’s going to be watching you. Once Big Roy pops up, the action begins.”

  “Sounds fun,” Owen blandly replied.

  “You’re in good hands. Irving’s the best there is.”

  So he’d heard. Again and again.

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

  Owen wasn’t sure he heard right. “Sheriff?”

  The man shrugged. “Just had fun joking around, that’s all.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe if you get through this, we can have two deputies.”

  “But I lied.”

  “You served your sentence. And you learned your lesson, right?”

  “Sure I did.”

  “Good. Then there’s a slot open for you.” Just as Owen was ready to thank him, he continued, “That is, if you survive.”

  Owen’s smile faltered. Right. There was that tiny staying alive thing. Without delaying the inevitable, he turned in the direction he needed to go.

  “Son,” the sheriff called out.

  Owen stopped.

  “Don’t forget that gun of yours.”

  “Oh, right.” Owen put his hand on his holster. The gun wasn’t as comfortable as a fishing rod, but he supposed he couldn’t keep on carrying that around forever. The gun still felt unnatural in his hand, but at least he figured out how to use it. Maybe not as good as Irving did, but it was better than what he used to do. “Here goes nothing,” he murmured under his breath before he crossed the street.

  He could barely hear people chatting around him as he passed them by on the boardwalk lining the businesses. The pounding in his ears was much too distracting. But what did it matter what they were saying? Soon enough, they might be looking at his dead body and wondering why he thought he had any chance against a big-time outlaw like Big Roy.

  He took a deep breath to clear his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. This was it. Soon, it would all be over. No more running. No more hiding.

  As he approached the saloon, his grip tightened on the butt of his gun and his steps slowed. He peered into the window and saw a couple of men lounging around at the bar. None were Big Roy or anyone associated with him. His shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. Big Roy was in Omaha...somewhere. He scanned the people who mingled about. He didn’t recognize anyone in there. He didn’t even see where Irving was hiding.

  If Irving was even watching him... He wiped his forehead again. Of course, Irving was watching. He took his job seriously, and he wanted to bring Big Roy to justice. Owen had to admit, though, that Irving did an excellent job of hiding.

  Unsure of what to do, he continued moving forward. A couple of women giggled as he past them. Wondering if his fear showed, he looked to see if they were laughing at him. But they weren’t. They were pointing to something across the street. Curious, his gaze traveled to where they motioned to and his jaw dropped.

  Amos and his friends were lingering by the mercantile eating some candy and holding onto their fishing rods.

  Owen’s jaw clenched and he quickly checked both ways before he stepped onto the street. Didn’t he just tell them to go home and stay safe? He made it halfway across the street when the first gunshot rang out and blew the hat off his head.

  The boys looked up at him in surprise.

  “Get out of here!” he yelled at them as he darted past a startled horse with an equally startled rider.

  Another gunshot broke through the still air, but this one didn’t come near him. Or maybe it did and he was too scared to notice. Either way, he needed to get out of there! And he wasn’t the only one who thought that way. Everyone else scattered for whatever shelter they could find. Some ran into the stores and some down alleyways. Some rode their horses and buggies as fast as they could until the street was clear of all traffic.

  Owen found himself bolting into the mercantile. He tried to take out his gun, but the stupid
thing was secured in the holster and the palms of his hands were too slippery to get a hold of it. He scanned the mercantile at the frightened women and children, but he didn’t see Amos or his two friends. Didn’t they run in here?

  “You’re mine!”

  Owen recognized that gruff voice anywhere. And there was no way he was going to play possum now. He leapt over the counter, nearly knocking over the startled owner who ran to retrieve his gun.

  “This is my store. You have no business being here!” the owner barked. Then he fired his rifle at the doorway.

  Owen didn’t bother seeing if the man hit Big Roy or not. He just ran. He ran down the narrow space that led to the backdoor and found himself in another alley. The scene was eerily familiar. Except this time Mitch and Lance weren’t chasing him. Nope. Big Roy was doing the honors this time.

  Owen raced past the dumpsters. He heard a door open and almost got hit with a bullet. He swerved to the right and found himself on a less traveled part of the business district. He bent to hide behind stagecoaches and buggies as he scampered as fast as he dared without giving Big Roy ample opportunity to get a clear shot.

  Where was Irving anyway? Some stellar deputy he was turning out to be! Owen had already been shot at three times and Big Roy was still chasing him.

  He found a vacant stagecoach that was still on the side of the road, so he slipped into it and curled up on the floor. He pressed his hand to his aching side and gasped. He could barely catch his breath. He shook his head to make the rushing sound in his ears die down. There were voices approaching and he needed to hear who they were from.

  “We need to get out of here,” an unfamiliar man said. “We can pick them up later.”

  The other man agreed and the stagecoach swayed, shoving Owen from side to side since the man driving it was in a hurry. Who could blame him? Owen was anxious to get out of there as well. He hesitated to see if Big Roy was out there but finally decided he might have an advantage if he knew.

  Finding his balance, he leaned against the seat to peek out the window. His eyes grew wide. Irving was pursuing them on a horse. What in the world was Irving doing chasing him? Irving made eye contact with Owen and gave some gestures that Owen didn’t understand. Just as Owen shook his head, Big Roy’s head popped into view from above the stagecoach. Big Roy gave Owen a sinister smile.

  Owen screamed and scrambled back. The driver suddenly stopped the stagecoach and the door behind Owen’s back flew open. Still screaming—and probably sounding just like a woman—Owen went barreling down the side of the hill. He stopped screaming so he could grunt and groan each time his body hit a rock that was poking out of the ground.

  Several gunshots sounded, and all Owen could do was pray none of them would hit him as he tossed and turned, his world spinning out of control around him. When Owen did manage to come to a stop, he saw another horse rider coming in his direction and recognized him as one of Big Roy’s men. That man also had two other riders with him.

  Gasping, Owen struggled to his feet and ran further into the trees that surrounded the perimeter of the park. Up ahead, he saw a small bridge and scrambled under it. It was a tight fit, but he managed it. Then he waited.

  The three men assembled near the bridge and stopped.

  “Where did he go?”

  Owen turned his head to better listen to them. If he heard right, that was Clyde Jenkins. But what would Clyde want with him?

  “Weasel is sneaky,” another replied.

  That was Jim, one of the card players at the saloon in Louisiana and one of Big Roy’s friends. Owen fought the urge to sneeze. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and pinched his nose.

  “Look,” Jim said. “You two need to move fast unless you want to push up daisies like Owen will be in a few minutes.”

  “Right. We’ll get that boy. Right, Clyde?”

  Owen’s eyelids flew open. Were they talking about Jeremy?

  “You don’t get him this time and you’ll be working the mines,” Jim said. “This has gone on long enough. You owe Big Roy.”

  “I know,” Clyde said. “I’ll get him.”

  “And I’ll go to make sure you do it right this time.”

  “Go on, Robert. I got Owen,” Jim replied.

  Robert! That was the man wanted for kidnapping children. His eyes grew wide. Big Roy had a mining operation that was driven by childhood labor? He gasped. Jeremy! Jenny! Owen finally grabbed his gun and pulled it out. He had to get to them before Clyde and Robert did.

  He waited until the men rode off before he crept out of his hiding spot. Holding the gun firmly in his hand, he found the nearest horse a good half mile away lounging by its rider. Well, drastic times called for drastic measures. He headed for the horse and made it close to the pathway when a bullet skinned the sleeve of his coat. Thrown off guard, he stumbled and fell beneath one of the trees in the shaded area. He scrambled in the dirt until he got behind one of the trees that was big enough to protect him from several more shots.

  Gripping the gun, he peered around the edge of the trunk and saw Jim riding toward him. He ducked before another bullet went flying through the air. I have to get to Jenny and Jeremy! He poked his head out again and aimed the gun and fired it. Jim’s horse bucked a bit, but Jim quickly regained control. Licking his lips, Owen steadied his hand and made another attempt to shoot Jim or the horse, but Jim shot the gun right out of Owen’s hand.

  Owen yelped and pulled his hand to his chest and hid behind the tree. He quickly inspected his hand. One, two, three, four, five. All fingers were there. He wiggled them. He breathed a sigh of relief. That was lucky.

  A sudden neigh and angry yell took Owen’s focus off of his hand. He peered around the tree. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He looked again. So he wasn’t seeing things. Jim was hanging beneath a tree by three fishing hooks that were dug firmly into the back of his shirt. Owen’s gaze traveled up the tree, and he saw the proud smiles of three very happy looking boys.

  “Amos?” he said in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

  “We got ‘em for you, deputy!” Amos hollered out.

  “Yep,” another boy stated, “we fished him right out for you, just like you would!”

  After a moment of stunned silence, Owen laughed. “Now that’s the finest bit of fishing I ever did see. Great job, boys!” He found Jim’s gun lying on a small patch of snow and picked it up. Glancing up, he saw that Irving was heading toward them, but he was still a good distance away. Obviously, he managed to capture Big Roy. Turning to the boys, Owen said, “Tell Irving Spencer that I had to help Jenny and Jeremy.”

  Without waiting for the boys to respond, he ran up to Jim’s horse which had slowed down to a walk not too far from them and got on it to head home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jenny flung a dish at Clyde’s head. Drats! She missed! “Get off my property!” She picked up another plate from the stack she held to her chest and threw it at him.

  Again, he expertly dodged it as he made his way to the porch.

  She grunted and threw the whole stack at him.

  This time two plates hit him in the face. He yelled and touched his cheek which had a bloody cut on it. Glaring at her, he took a step toward her. “Not this time, Jenny! I’m getting my boy.”

  She grabbed her broom and swung at him.

  Unlike last time, he jumped back.

  She stepped forward but someone came up behind her and held her arms in place. She screamed and kicked at her captor, but his hold only grew tighter.

  “Get the boy and let’s get out of here,” the man growled at Clyde.

  “Run!” she yelled at Jeremy who was supposed to be in his room. She prayed he would make it to the attic before Clyde found him.

  Clyde climbed the rest of the porch steps, and as he passed her, she stuck her foot out so he tripped and fell on his face, hitting the doorway with the side of his head. Then she bent forward and bit the other man on the arm. He roared and let her go. She gripped the broom and
swiped it under his feet so he fell back.

  Knowing her time to act was short, she hopped over Clyde and kicked him so he wasn’t in the doorway and slammed the door on his face. She locked the door and ran up the staircase.

  “Ma?” a terrified voice asked.

  She turned to Jeremy who huddled in the corner of his room. “Get into the attic,” she whispered.

  “I can’t. It’s too high.”

  One of the men smashed the window in the parlor. She jumped and saw her son’s terrified eyes. What were they doing here? Why did Clyde want Jeremy so badly? Trembling, she darted into the room and flung the window open. Looking out of it, she breathed a sigh of relief. Owen had forgotten to take down the ladder when he fixed the shutter by the window. “Go down the ladder and hide in the barn loft. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  She gave him a quick hug, said she loved him, and helped him get his footing steady on the ladder before she turned her attention back to the men invading her home. She hurried to her room and opened the armoire. Up on the top shelf was a rifle. Snatching it, she returned to the top of the staircase and saw the men rummaging through the house. They threw over the couch and chair in the parlor as they searched for her boy.

  She hadn’t used a gun since she went after the foxes trying to get into the hen house on her parent’s farm, but there was no time like the present to hone in on old skills. She fired the shot which went right through the front door. The men weren’t even close to it, but they stopped and stared at her so she got their attention.

  “Get out of my home before I kill you!” She fired the gun again, and this time, the bullet went into the kitchen floor. She gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t she even get the bullet into the parlor? She knew she was rusty, but this was ridiculous.

  Clyde’s face was pale and he held his hands up, but the other man smirked at her and drew out his gun. “You don’t know how to use that thing.”

  “Sure I do,” she lied. “Those were warning shots!”

  “Uh huh.” By the tone in his voice, she knew he didn’t believe her. He rubbed his pistol along his jaw and sauntered to the threshold of the kitchen. “Where’s the boy?”