“What else is there?” Jeeter said. “It was them or me and as long as I am breathing it will not be me.”
“I must say,” Ernestine commented, “this is a night of revelations. You are more than the man I thought you were.”
“Is that good or bad?” Jeeter asked. Her attitude was grating on him. She could nitpick a thing to death, this woman.
“I honestly don’t know yet,” Ernestine admitted. It was all too new, too disturbing. She glanced at the dead man at their feet. “Why isn’t he wearing a badge?”
“Eh?” Jeeter looked, and shrugged. “Most sheriffs don’t have a lot of badges to pass out. They swear in those who join, and that’s enough.”
“Do we bury them?”
“Only if you want the rest of the posse to catch me,” Jeeter said. The shots were bound to bring them. He clasped her hand and started toward his mount and the packhorse, but abruptly stopped and turned around. “Where is my head tonight?” Quickly, he bent and searched the dead man’s pockets.
“What are you doing?” Ernestine asked, although she had guessed. But she was too horrified to admit it.
“They might have money on them.” Jeeter found several coins, and chuckled. “Look here. A half eagle and some half dimes. I will treat you to a meal in Coffin Varnish.”
“I will not eat food bought with stolen money,” Ernestine said.
“Taking from a corpse isn’t stealing,” Jeeter argued. “A corpse can’t own anything.”
“Your logic never fails to astound me. Next you will say this wasn’t murder since they were out to murder you.”
“Self-defense, I call it. It is their fault for coming after me. If they had let me be, they wouldn’t be lying here.”
Ernestine gazed at the other bodies. “They were only doing what they thought was right. The people in Dodge City think you have abducted me. This is what comes of you not letting me explain the situation to them.”
“You want me behind bars, is that it? Say so now and we can part company with no hard feelings.” Jeeter moved to the second man.
Stunned, Ernestine said, “How can you say that with our vows so fresh? Is that all I am to you? The same as a new shirt?”
Jeeter sensed the answer was important to her. He stopped frisking and met her gaze. “You are everything to me, and I want you by my side the rest of my born days.”
“Then forget playing the vulture and let’s ride,” Ernestine said, adding as an afterthought, “Please.”
“Fetch your horse,” Jeeter said. He figured that would buy him time to finish searching, but her animal was only a few yards away. He gave her a boost, then did something he would never have done if he had been by himself: He walked away from dead men and the money they had on them.
“Are you upset with me?”
“Why would you think that?” Jeeter smiled to hide his feelings. Sometimes talking to her was like playing poker; he had to wear a poker face so she would not guess the truth.
“A woman has her intuition. You are not one of those who wears his sentiments on his sleeve, but you give enough away with how you talk and act.” Ernestine smiled. “I am sorry if I nag you.”
“I don’t think that.” Jeeter had told another falsehood. He was about to say more, but his keen hearing had detected the distant drum of more hooves. A lot more.
“What is it?”
“More of the posse, just like I reckoned,” Jeeter said. “Enough jabber for a spell. We have to fan the breeze.”
Fan it they did, at a gallop for a quarter of a mile, then a canter, then a walk. By then Jeeter could no longer hear their pursuers, and so long as he couldn’t hear them, they did not pose an immediate threat.
“What if they follow us all the way to Coffin Varnish?” Ernestine asked.
“It will just be too bad for them.”
Ernestine shook her head. “Why must you always talk like that? Why are you always so ready to kill?” She did not understand. She just did not understand. He had so many good traits, yet he shot people as if he were squashing flies. What was she missing that would explain it? she asked herself.
“I like breathing,” Jeeter said.
“It is more than that. It has to be.”
Jeeter pondered long and hard but still could not think of a way to satisfactorily explain to her. Then squat shapes and a few lights hove out of the gloom to the north. “Coffin Varnish,” he said.
“How far behind would you say that posse is?” Ernestine wanted to know. It was beginning to look to her as if her marriage would be one of the shortest in history.
“Far enough,” Jeeter Frost said. “Don’t you worry. When they get here they are in for a surprise.”
Chapter 25
Chester Luce was having the most wonderful dream.
He was the governor of Kansas. He lived in a stately mansion and had servants to wait on his every whim. He was driven everywhere in a fine carriage. When people saw him, men doffed their hats out of respect and women gave him the sort of look that showed they were interested in getting to know him better. Best of all, he had a secretary. Her name was Helga. She bore a remarkable resemblance to Filippa Anderson, only she wore clothes that were much more revealing than the plain dresses Filippa always wore.
