Wilma’s Outlaw

One

When he heard the rattle of a buggy and the clomp-clomp of a horse’s hoofs on the dirt road that circled the graveyard, Clay Hunter paused on the way to his mother’s grave. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone as he visited the area this time of day. Grace was usually working or taking care of her husband and wouldn’t come until later, though he knew she wouldn’t fail to come, since it was their mother’s birthday.

Knowing he couldn’t yet be seen in Settlers Ridge, he turned his horse into the woods surrounding the hill-top graveyard where he would be out of sight. He hoped the people in the buggy wouldn’t be the first of a group of people coming for a burial.

Looking around, he didn’t see an open grave and decided it was probably someone coming to leave flowers, or visit the grave of a family member. He couldn’t help sighing as he wondered how long this interruption would hold him up, because he knew he couldn’t stay there for a long time. Not that it mattered unless someone happened to see him. He’d try to relax and wait until they were gone. Then as he always did, he’d give his mother one of the wildflowers growing nearby, say a quick prayer and be on his way.

It wasn’t that Clay wouldn’t like to see some of his old friends in Settlers Ridge, and he’d especially like to see his sister, Grace. But he knew that was impossible. Currently, anyway. He certainly didn’t want to put anyone in jeopardy, especially his little sister. Of course, she wasn’t little any longer.

By slipping in and out of town, he’d been able to sporadically keep up with her progression into adulthood. Because he’d been worried after the fire which claimed their parents’ lives, he’d taken his first chance to find out if she was all right. He felt better to learn she’d been befriended by the Olsen family who owned the hotel in town. It pleased him when he found out they had not only given her a job and a place to live but treated her like family.

After that he had come as often as he could, and he always tried to slip in on or around his mother’s birthday each year.

Then, last year Grace had married the town’s popular sheriff, Lance Gentry. He remembered Lance, who was a couple of years older than he. That made him eight or nine years older than Grace. He also knew Lance was Nelda Gentry Barrington’s older brother. He recalled Lance as a handsome man who many of the single ladies wanted to claim as their own. Though he was a little surprised Grace had accomplished what many other single women hadn’t been able to do, he knew she deserved the best. He also knew she’d never have married Gentry if she wasn’t in love with him. He hoped the man, who everyone thought of as a ladies-man and a confirmed bachelor, felt the same way about his sister. He didn’t want to see Grace hurt. She was too special for that. Always had been.

The buggy came to a stop and the man got out. He hitched the horse to a nearby bush, then reached up, took the baby the woman held out and put it in the crook of his arm. He then held his hand out to help his wife to the ground.

Clay’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized his sister and her husband. Did they have a baby? Of course they did, or they wouldn’t have one with them. He couldn’t help smiling as he wondered if he had a niece or a nephew.

He saw Grace’s face as she turned and took a bouquet of flowers from the buggy, then joined her husband and baby. He was glad he’d seen her, because there was no way to describe the way she looked except everything about her showed she was a happy woman.

This pleased him and he had the urge to rush to them and tell her how much he had missed her through the years and how good it was to see her again. But no matter how badly he wanted to, he had to hold himself back. It wasn’t yet the time, and he wasn’t sure when or if it ever would be. Those in power still had some things to clear up with that foreign government before he could sever his involvement with them and get on with the rest of his life.

Long after he watched the little family at the grave, he stayed in the woods remembering the sight. He would go away today with the picture of his sister walking back to the buggy. Her husband had the baby in one arm and the other one around her shoulder as if he were comforting her. He helped her into the buggy, then handed her the baby before he walked around and got in. As they started to pull away, he saw Lance lean over and touch Grace’s cheek, then kiss her the way a man kisses the woman he truly loves. When they rode off, she was smiling and had her head on his shoulder. He had his free arm around her. Clay knew they were a happy family, and this pleased him.

As the buggy pulled out of sight, Clay moved to his mother’s grave. He wasn’t about to toss Grace’s flowers away. He simply moved them to the side, then knelt and placed the one wildflower beside her bouquet. For the first time, he wondered if, through the years, Grace had seen his offerings to their mother. If so, he hoped she found comfort in them. Maybe if she had, she’d realize he’d never forgotten her or their mother.

Standing, he said, I love you, Mama, and I know Grace does, too. You would be so proud to know she’s a happily married woman with a baby of her own. Someday soon, maybe I can tell her I saw your grandchild when it was tiny. God willing, maybe I can then become a part of their lives.

He said a silent prayer, then took up the reins and climbed on his horse. I’ll be back whenever I can, Mama. I think they will, but if the government doesn’t release me before, I’ll see you close to your next birthday.

Pulling his hat down, he turned his horse and rode in the direction of Cheyenne. At the moment, he was anxious to see how his assignment stood, and he knew he had to get back to headquarters as quickly as possible to find out.

WILMA LAWSON STOOD behind the counter of Barrington’s Mercantile, sorting the mail the stage had left during its midday stop. The bells over the door jangled and she looked up to see Grace. She had baby Kathrine in her arms.

Hello, my friend. Come in and let me see that precious bundle. Wilma dropped the mail to the counter and smiled.

You can take this bundle if you wish. She’s getting heavy.

Well, come here, sweetheart. Your Auntie Wilma will hold you. She doesn’t think you’re heavy at all.

She’s only heavy if you get stopped on the street by Juliette Cramer, and the woman insists on talking on and on and on.

Wilma laughed. I didn’t know you’d become good enough friends to have long conversations with her.

Grace smiled. How could we become good friends? That woman still wants my husband.

I thought she had given up trying to get Lance away from you.

We thought so, too. After our marriage, she mainly left us alone. There would be a snide comment now and then, especially when I became pregnant. Lance says she has once again begun to pop into the office with the silliest of excuses every week or so. Since Kathrine’s birth, her visits to him have become more frequent.

She is persistent, isn’t she?

That she is. She told me she’d been by the office today and Lance wasn’t in. She said she was concerned he might be sick. I told her he was fine...then she wanted to know if the baby was keeping him awake and because of lack of sleep he was having trouble doing his job. She kept on about how the job of sheriff would be hard on a man with a wife and child, and maybe he should rethink his decision to be married and have a baby.

Wilma shook her head. What did you say to her?

After I’d listened as long as I could stand it, I told her our marriage was a solid happy one and she was wasting her time trying to take my husband. I even suggested that if she didn’t want to end up an unhappy old spinster, she should stop acting the fool. Then maybe one of the single men in town might pay her some attention instead of laughing behind her back because she kept pining after a married man.

Wilma laughed out loud. Then what did she say?

I’m not sure, but I think she called me a bitch as she slung her head around and walked away.

I’m proud of you, Grace. Maybe you actually got through to her.

I doubt it. I think after she walked off, she headed back to the jail. I was tired and Kathrine was getting heavy, so I came here to get what I needed for supper. Then I’m heading home.

I’m sure you’ll hear about her visit to him at supper.

I’m sure of it, too. He keeps threatening to put her in jail if she doesn’t leave him alone.

He should do it. Wilma smiled down at the baby. Kathrine sure is growing and she gets prettier every time I see her.

Thank you. We kind of think she’s pretty, too. In fact, no matter how many times I tell him not to, Lance is spoiling her.

I don’t doubt that. Wilma smiled at her friend. Did you need something, or did you and Kathrine just come in here to get away from Miss Cramer?

I do need something. It’s my mother’s birthday and as you know, I always make a special dessert on her birthday like she did on ours when we were little. Tonight, I decided on one of Lance’s favorite—cherry cobbler. I need to pick up some things including a couple of pounds of sugar. I’m running a little low.

Wilma handed her the baby and stooped to measure out two pounds of sugar. I suppose you’ve been to the graveyard.

Yes, and before you ask, there was no wildflower there. If Clay is in town, he hasn’t been to the graveyard.

I sure wish he’d get in touch with you, Grace. I know it breaks your heart to see those lone flowers on the grave and know he’s been there.

It does, but I’m trying to accept it. It has gotten easier as time passes. I know he’s only coming to visit Mama’s grave, and not me, though I wish it were different.

Before Wilma could answer, the bell over the door jangled and Luella Baldwin, the mayor’s wife, walked in. Wilma knew her conversation with Grace was over. Hello, Louella.

Hello, ladies. She headed toward them. Looks like I came in time to see that beautiful daughter of yours, Grace.

Grace nodded to Wilma, letting her know she understood they’d have to talk about Clay later. Turning to Luella, she said, Kathrine is always happy to have the attention.

I’m so glad, because I sure want to get my hands on her.

Grace handed Luella the baby. Since you’ve been kind enough to babysit, Luella, I’ll gather the other items I need to cook supper.

I’ll be more than happy to, and by all means, take your time. She looked down at the baby. We don’t care how much time she takes, do we, Kathrine?

LATE IN THE EVENING, two days later, Clay arrived at headquarters. It pleased him to see a light burning in the general’s office. He hoped there would be some word about his fate, so instead of going to his quarters, he headed directly to the office.

Clay was not only surprised to find he’d been released from his duty to the government, but he was pleased to learn they had kept their word. His record had been wiped clean. Nobody would ever know he’d been a wanted man who had served time in prison. As long as he kept his word to never talk about his work with the army, he was free to go anywhere he desired without fear of his past following him.

At that time in his life, there was nowhere he wanted to go more than home to Settlers Ridge. His only problem was how would his hometown accept him? Most important of all, would his sister welcome him back, or would she prefer he settle somewhere else so she wouldn’t have to deal with the fact he’d deserted her and their mother those many years ago?

He decided he’d never know unless he faced her. This time he wouldn’t slip in and out as he had done in the past. He’d go in quietly, find a place to stay, get a feel for the situation, then make his presence known.

Decision made, he went to his quarters, gathered his few belongings, and lay down to sleep. At dawn, he climbed on his horse and spurred him through the fort’s gate. He tried not to think about the fact it would take two days to reach Settlers Ridge to see if he could resume a normal life in his hometown.

Two

On the second day of Clay’s journey home, he busied himself running various scenarios of what he would and should do, and who he’d see first when he reached Settlers Ridge. Not paying attention to what was happening around him, he was almost on top of the wreck before he saw it. Frowning, he jerked the reins and stopped his horse, Whisper.

What the in the world is going on here? he muttered, as he jumped from the saddle and moved to the small wagon turned on its side.

He swallowed bile when he moved to the back side and saw the woman. In his years of outlawing, then working for the government, he’d seen all manners of death and torture, but this was one of the most horrendous sights he’d ever encountered.

A middle-aged woman’s graying hair was caked with blood from obvious severe blows to her face and head. Her arms had been broken and in one the bone stuck through the skin. The heavy wagon was turned over and her legs just above her knees were pinned under it. It was obvious she had been purposely placed in this position and was left to suffer and die.

Clay moved to check, though he was almost positive she was dead. The instant he touched her, her eyes flew open.

Get...the...Bible...Save...my...children...

Stunned, Clay asked, What did you say?

Save...them. Alice...Phoebe...will...help...you.

Knowing the woman was suffering, Clay said, I need to get this wagon off you, ma’am.

Too...late. You...a good man...I trust...you. She grabbed his arm. You’re their...only chance. Promise me...you’ll take care of them.

Thinking it didn’t matter what he agreed to at that point, without hesitation Clay nodded and muttered, I promise.

Thank...you. With a smile on her lips, she closed her eyes and her life ebbed away.

Stunned and confused by not only her words, but also his agreement, Clay stared at the lifeless form. Why had he made such a foolish promise?

At the moment, Clay wasn’t sure what to do. He knew he couldn’t leave her there for the vultures. And what in the world did she mean about the Bible and children and two women named Alice and Phoebe? Why did the dying woman mention him being their only chance? Had she and her family been traveling in this small wagon? If so, where were they?

Knowing there was nothing he could do about any youngsters or the unknown Alice and Phoebe at the moment, he made a quick decision to try to get her from under the wagon so he could bury her, or at least cover her so the animals couldn’t get at her before the undertaker picked her up. When he got to Settlers Ridge, he would report what had happened and the sheriff could take over.

The wagon was heavier than he expected, though the contents had mostly been thrown and scattered on the ground. After trying several times to turn it upright by using his shoulder, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Turning to his horse, he said, I hate to ask you to do this to you, Whisper, but I need your help.

He tied a rope around the top board of the wagon bed, climbed into the saddle, wrapped the rope around the saddle horn and then around his gloved hand, and said, Here we go.

Whisper backed up on Clay’s demand. At first nothing happened. Then the wagon began to rock. The next minute it made a loud creaking sound and with a little more urging, the horse gave one last tug. In another minute, the vehicle was on its four wheels.

Good girl. Clay relaxed the rope and patted the horse’s neck. I knew you could do it. He jumped from the saddle and grabbed the reins. You’ve done your part. I’m going to lead you over there and let you graze near those bushes while I take care of this lady.

As he ground-hitched Whisper, he heard a strange noise, a noise he shouldn’t be hearing out in this deserted area. It sounded like a child’s whimper. He frowned. It had to be an animal of some kind. After all, he wasn’t all that familiar with children or the sounds they made, and he could have mistaken the sound as one from a human.

Then he heard it again. This time he realized it was no animal he’d ever heard. It originated behind the bushes a few feet away. Before he could move to the end of the shrubs to check, a little girl of no more than three, with tears running down her face, darted out and toddled toward him.

Almost instantly, a little boy maybe a couple of years or so older came running behind her. Come back, Mary. He’ll kill you.

The child ignored him, and the next thing Clay knew, the little girl grabbed him around the calf of his left leg and clung tightly as she continued to sob, though no sound came from her.

In a panic-filled voice, the boy screamed, Please don’t kill her, mister. She’s just a little girl. She don’t know no better.

Clay frowned. I’m not going to kill her.

The boy stared at him. You’re not?

No. I don’t kill children.

Are you sure?

Yes, I’m sure. He leaned down and pried the little girl off his leg. Let go, honey. I need to try to find out what happened here.

As soon as she was free, she looked up at him, shook her head and grabbed his leg again.

She’s just scared, mister.

Clay looked at the little boy, and noticed he held a Bible hugged against his chest. He wondered if this was the Bible the woman had mentioned but he didn’t think it was the right time to ask. Instead, he lifted an eyebrow. Can you tell me what happened here, young man?

Don’t you know?

I know you’ve had some trouble, but it’s kind of hard to figure out. Your mother is...uh...hurt and your horse is gone and, well...I just happened by and found all this. When the boy only stared at him, he added, If you can tell me what happened, maybe I can help you.

The boy continued to stare at him. Miss Lucy ain’t my real mama.

Oh? Who is she, then, and why are you with her?

He shrugged. I don’t know who she is. But she’s nice. She took us away from the bad people and said we didn’t have to ever see them again.

Do you have a name?

Miss Lucy called me David. A shy grin spread across his lips. She said I was little but I was strong like David in the Bible. He killed a giant, you know.

David is a good name. Bending down, Clay took hold of the little girl. Come up here, sweetheart. You can’t hang on my leg all day.

When she was in his arms, she looked at him through her tears, then threw her arms around him and buried her head in his neck. She didn’t speak.

What’s your name, mister? David’s voice showed he was almost too scared to ask.

It’s Clay.

He nodded. She likes you, Mr. Clay.

Is she your sister?

"No. I never seen her ‘til we found her. Miss Lucy said she was an innocent little girl like Mary in the Bible, so we was to call her Mary.