Footsteps rushed up the porch steps, tapping lightly on the wood. A hand stroked his cheek. Gentle fingers touched his sling from injured shoulder to protruding fingertips
If this was a trick of the mind, he gave himself up to it.
He felt his head being lowered by a pair of tender hands near his ears. Petticoats rustled as though the wearer had risen to her toes. A pair of lips touched his.
“Emma?” Did he dare open his eyes and ruin the hallucination?
She hugged him around the middle and it hurt. Great blessed pain! “Emma!”
He pulled her in tight with his good arm, trying to make the feel of her last forever, but the mob did sound angry.
They looked angry, too, waving fists, farming tools and even a few bottles of…Orange Lilly? And they were headed straight for Doc Brown’s front porch.
Red faced and beginning to sweat, Marshal Deeds stepped back a few paces.
“You were supposed to stay home,” Matt whispered in Emma’s ear.
“You were supposed to come home,” she whispered back.
“Free Suede! Free Suede!” the group of more than fifty folk began to chant.
Faces that he recognized, and some that he didn’t, moved close to the bottom step. Emma ran her hands lightly over his shoulder, looking for damage. She’d find it, for sure, but his strength seemed to be returning by the second.
“Where did all these folks come from?”
“Cowboys aren’t the only ones capable of a roundup. I told some of them what was happening, then they told some others and here we are.”
Watching the Sizeloffs move forward gave him the strength to stand unaided. Jesse and his girl, flanked by Mr. Rath and Mr. Wright, made the ache in his shoulder ease. The sight of Woody, Sarah and Lenore Pendragon moving toward the front of the crowd gave him hope.
The ladies of the Long Branch, looking as colorful as a flock of tropical birds, made him a little nervous. He glanced at his wife. If Emma or anyone else was offended by their presence it didn’t show.
The anger, and there was plenty of it, seemed to be directed at the marshal, Pendragon and Bart.
“Marshal!” Pendragon roared. “Do something about this!”
“Throw ’em all in jail.” Bart waved his hand at the group, but lost his balance and rolled down the steps.
“What do I pay you—” All of a sudden Pendragon shut his mouth. He stared for a moment at the sunlight glinting off the toe of his boot. “Do what you have been elected to do.”
The marshal looked at Matt, then at Pendragon’s twitching mustache. He shook his head and swallowed hard. Sweat beaded Deeds’s forehead.
“Marshal Deeds.” Rachael Sizeloff touched his sleeve, inviting him down the steps. “A word with you, please.”
When Pendragon made a move to stop him, Joseph Sizeloff muscled between them, giving his wife the opportunity to lead the marshal across the street.
From this distance Matt couldn’t hear the private conversation, but some things didn’t need words. Rachael held baby Maude in one arm while gesturing with the other.
Head hung low, the marshal listened to the minister. He looked a bit green when she frowned and pointed a firm finger toward the dirt, shaking her head. After that, Deeds seemed to have a few things to say. He talked for a while, sometimes covering his eyes, sometimes wringing his hands. All the while the preacher nodded. When Deeds quit speaking, Mrs. Sizeloff gave him a brilliant smile and pointed toward the sky.
The marshal looked like a different man, being led back across the street and up the steps. Like a man relieved of a burden.
Pendragon, though, looked like a bull ready to charge. Only a severe scowl from Joseph Sizeloff held him in his place.
On the top step of the porch and gazing over the crowd, Marshal Deeds twisted his hat in his hands.
“I have something to confess to all of you good people,” he announced. Rachael beamed up at him, looking as proud as a mother hen. “Matthew Suede didn’t kill anyone. I did.”
Pendragon made a leap toward Deeds, but Woody Vance raced up the steps. Joseph and Woody restrained him with one arm looped through each of his.
“I shot him in the line of duty when he was about to kill Matt and his boy. The only wrong done is to the citizens of this town, by me. I’ve been influenced by power…and money.”
Every eye in the silent crowd focused on Lawrence Pendragon, who curiously looked a few inches shorter.