Ernestine went to the dresser, opened a drawer, and came back with a scarf. “We tie him and gag him. By the time he is found, we will be long gone.”
Jeeter Frost winked at Seamus. “See why I married her? Brains and beauty, both. What more can a man ask for?”
“A bottle of whiskey,” Seamus said.
“A rope would be better, though, for tying him,” Jeeter mentioned to his new bride.
“I am afraid I don’t keep rope handy. I work with children, not cows.” Ernestine moved to the dresser yet again. “I do have scissors. We can cut the scarf into strips. They will work as well.”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Frost,” Jeeter teased.
Seamus did not resist. Not with the Missouri Man-Killer covering him and plainly itching for an excuse to put lead into him. The schoolmarm bound his wrists behind his back, and she did a thorough job, too, tying the knots so tight, his circulation was cut off.
“You are a woman of many talents,” Jeeter Frost complimented her after giving her handiwork a tug. “Next you will be telling me that you can break broncs.”
“I am good for more than reading and writing,” Ernestine said proudly. “You will find I can hold my own. Now let me finish packing.”
Jeeter watched her every movement as a puppy might watch its master. “Look at her. She is sunrise in a dress. How did I ever get so lucky?”
“Are you sure you don’t have some whiskey?” Seamus asked. “A flask will do.”
“We forgot to gag you.”
Ernestine was folding her unmentionables. “I will attend to the gagging in a minute, handsome. I need to pack in case someone else shows up and we must depart in a hurry.”
“Always one step ahead,” Jeeter said to Seamus. “She thinks she can keep me out of trouble and I am beginning to think she can.”
“I wish I had someone to keep me out of trouble,” Seamus Glickman said.
Chapter 22
Ernestine Frost hurried out the rear of the boardinghouse. Behind her came Jeeter, puffing from the weight of her carpetbag. “I am so proud of you,” she told him.
Jeeter grunted. The carpetbag was not as heavy as the packs containing her books, which he had already loaded on the horse he had rented from the stable. But it was heavy enough that he would gladly drop it and leave it if Ernestine would not become upset.
“You didn’t kill him,” Ernestine said. “You had the opportunity but you refrained from squeezing the trigger.”
Jeeter had never really considered shooting Glickman. Not when the shot was bound to draw people, and more law. But he did not mention that to her.
“It shows that you can change,” Ernestine said. “That you are not the rabid killer everyone else thinks you are.”
“I’m not rabid,” Jeeter said.
“I know you are not, my love,” Ernestine sweetly declared, and held the gate open for him. “You have proven that my trust in you is not misplaced.”
“I’m glad.” Now that they were man and wife, Jeeter naturally wanted to make her happy. But it surprised him considerably that she was so giddy over a trifle.
“I can’t wait to get settled somewhere and start our new life together,” Ernestine gushed. “Won’t it be wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” Jeeter echoed as he lugged the carpetbag to the packhorse. “The important thing now is not to be seen riding out of town. If we are seen we will head west to throw them off the scent and swing north later.”
“Maybe I should talk to the sheriff,” Ernestine said. “Let everyone know I am with you because my heart is swelled with love, and not because you took me against my will.”
“That deputy we left tied up in your room knows the truth,” Jeeter said. “He will tell the sheriff.”
“And all will be well!” Ernestine smiled and clasped her hands and raised her eyes to the starry sky. “Oh, thank you, Lord, for preserving us!”
Jeeter glanced skyward, and frowned. An oversight on his part had occurred to him. He had never asked her feelings on religion. “Talk to God much, do you?” he asked, trying to make the question sound perfectly innocent.
“No more than most, I would imagine,” Ernestine said. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.”
“Have you ever read the Bible?”
‘Not all the way through, I must confess. But I have read most of it, in snatches, at one time or another. We can read it together nights now that you have learned to read.”
Jeeter could think of something he would much rather do at night than read, but again he held his tongue. “I admit I don’t know a lot about it. But something a parson said once has stuck with me. It is the truest thing I ever heard and it explains a lot.”
“A parson? You must attend church, then. This is a side to you I did not expect.”
Jeeter could not recall the last time he was in God’s house. The parson had sat next to him at a restaurant and gone on and on about the Almighty and the soul.
“What did he say that so impressed you?”
In the process of tying a knot, Jeeter answered, “That God sends his rain on the just and the unjust.”
Ernestine waited, and when he did not say anything else, she said, “That’s it? That one quote?”
“It’s enough,” Jeeter replied. “It is everything.”
