He left her, mounted the gelding, and rode off for his first stop.
The sound of a baby’s angry cries hit his ears as soon as he stepped onto the porch. He debated whether to knock on not. By what he was hearing, Mrs. Lee had her hands full, so being the gentleman that he was, he decided to see her later on his way back to Spring.
Resuming his ride, he took in the beauty of the countryside and thought about his parents’ reactions to his plans to leave the city. His father would be unhappy, mostly due to his desire to see his son married to a woman of class. His mother, always steady and practical, would miss him, as he would her, but she’d be more concerned with his happiness. His sister, Melody, would miss him, and he’d miss her sunny smile and sharp wit, as well. Hopefully, he’d return to visit when he could, and they’d find a way to visit him in turn. He was certain once they took in the Territory’s beauty, they’d partially understand his decision.
Up ahead a mother duck and a line of ducklings were crossing the road. Smiling, he halted the horse to let the family pass. The sound of gunfire startled him. Hastily looking around for the source, a pain like a hundred hot pokers slammed into his back. Crying out, he gathered the reins. Before he could ride away, more bullets, this time shoulder high, toppled him from the saddle and onto the hard dirt road. More shots rang out. He knew he should scramble for cover, but his legs wouldn’t obey. He couldn’t breathe. In agony he touched his side and drew back blood-stained fingers. Again, he tried to get out of the road, but couldn’t move. As consciousness faded, his last thought was of Spring.
Spring slid quickly from Cheyenne’s back and ran to her brother’s office. A gaggle of people were out front. Pushing them aside, she yelled, “Get out of my way!” Ignoring their reactions, she reached the door, and, finding it locked, pounded on it like a woman possessed. Inside, Whit looked out the window.
“Open the door!” He quickly complied, and she entered. “Where is he?”
“Colt’s working on him now. He’s been in there awhile.”
“I want to see him.”
“Let your brother work. He doesn’t need you distracting him. He’ll come out when he’s done.”
Only then did she see her grandfather seated across the room. Ben was the one who’d found Garrett bleeding and unconscious in the road. After bringing him to town, he’d sent Odell to let her know about the shooting. Heart in her throat, she’d ridden off, leaving Odell to follow at his own pace. “Thank you for bringing him here.”
Ben nodded.
“Did you see who shot him?”
“No. Whoever it was is either gone or hiding out of sight in the trees. From the amount of blood on him, I don’t think he’d been in the road very long.”
That gave her hope. She turned to Whit. “Ketchum did this. I know it as well as I know my name, and it’s because of what happened at Glenda and Arnold’s party.”
“I wasn’t there, so tell me what happened.”
She did and when she finished he said, “Thanks, but I’ll need evidence, Spring.”
She had all the evidence she needed in her bones, and if Garrett died . . . She forced her mind away from that terrible possibility.
Whit told her, “I’ll question Matt, but I can’t charge him without a solid reason.”
“He shot him in the back, Whit!”
“I understand. Nothing lower than that. Nothing. But you’ll hang if you take the law into your own hands.”
He knew her well. Fury made her want to hunt Matt down and treat him to a few well-placed bullets of her own. “Even if you do have solid evidence, Garrett’s a Colored man. The courts aren’t going to care.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure they do. I promise you. If you hang it’ll break Regan’s heart,” he said solemnly.
“Thanks for that,” she countered coldly.
“It’s all I have, Spring. I know you! Don’t take this on yourself. Let me do my job.”
He turned to Ben. “Where exactly did you find him?”
Ben explained, adding, “I tied a bandanna to one of the trees to mark the spot. I figured you’d want to take a look around.”
“I do. Maybe I can find something that might narrow down who did the shooting. Spring, you’re welcome to