The wooden floor creaked slightly under his black dress shoes, purchased as accessory for his gray frock suit. Couldn’t escort his lady wearing the customary frayed woolen trousers and heavy boots, now, could he? Maybe the brand spanking new duds could serve for his own wedding ceremony. Smiling, Reese reached for the shawl.
And froze.
The cold hard muzzle of a revolver had just been shoved into his ribs, and stuck there, with the snick of a hammer being drawn back to add to the sense of menace.
“Well, well, ain’t you the tough one to track down,” said a low, gravelly voice close to Reese’s ear. “Been followin’ you a long time, Cole Forrester. And I finally have you caught, dead to rights, since you ain’t b’hind bars where you’re s’posed to be. You got a hangin’ tree handy in this Podunk town? Think we’re gonna need one.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE BOBBLE OF LIGHT issuing forth from a lantern being carried low and the soft thump of approaching footsteps interrupted. “What on earth is going on in here?” demanded a surprised voice.
“Reverend,” stiffly acknowledged Reese, as warning. Both his arms were raised, in the classic pose of surrender, while the man at his back tightened hold. “You might wanna stop where you are.”
“Why, I’ll do no such thing, young man.” The lamp was lifted, enough to throw illumination over the two men pressed up against a pew, and Martin Beecham frowned. “I came inside to put some things away. Now I find you, here, Reese, and—you, sir?”
The man laughed: in the stillness, it was a hollow, ugly sound. “Reverend, huh? From what I understand, you got a weddin’ under your belt. D’ you take care of funerals, too?”
“I take care of whatever needs doing in this town,” the minister said sharply, “in the sight of God and the sight of man. Who are you, and why are you hiding? Do you seek sanctuary?”
“Not hardly, Preacher. More like the wages of sin. Since you asked, my name is Justice, and I’m here to serve it.”
“Whatever you’re after, put that gun away,” Martin ordered. “You are in the house of the Lord, and this is sacrilege.”
“Aw, now, there you have me, Padre. I just can’t do that. Y’ see, I just captured a dangerous criminal, and I’m haulin’ him off to your hoosegow.”
Stunned, the minister looked from one to the other. “Dangerous criminal? Reese? Surely you can’t be serious. What are you talking about?”
Clearly the intruder was losing patience, for he growled a command even as he waved one hand in dismissal: “Enough yappin’. Get outa the way, old man. We’re headin’ to jail. And I’m prepared to shoot this outlaw dead if he so much as blinks wrong.”
“Then I,” said Martin firmly, “shall accompany you. Just to ensure that doesn’t happen. Here, out the side door, so as not to disturb anyone and attract attention.”
“Reverend—” began Reese, with an imploring glance.
“Don’t worry, my boy. We’ll get this matter straightened out.”
Turnabout’s two deputies, Austin Blakely and Colton Bridges, had been taking turns manning the fort since the wedding celebrations had begun, so that each could enjoy a couple hours of dancing, socializing, and chowing down. Austin, having met a sweet young thing from one of the outlying ranches, had discovered he was in love; and Colton had been casting admiring glances toward the unattached Miss Hannah Burton, although she seemed a bit too independent for his taste.
They were ensconced now in the sheriff’s office, drinking some very bad coffee and shooting the breeze, when the door burst open and a very unlikely-looking trio strode in.
“Lockup,” rasped the stranger, indicating that set of iron bars to the rear with one motion of his Colt 44. And shoved Reese forward.
Both deputies were instantly on their feet, ready to paw for holstered weapons in response.
“Gentlemen.” The town’s enormous respect for Rev. Beecham showed, in that every movement halted with his single word. “We have a very confusing set of events taking place here. And, much as I hate to disturb the sheriff at his own nuptials, I fear it must be done. Austin, please go fetch him. Quietly. And you, Mr. Justice, kindly put aside your side arm.”
Austin grabbed his hat and bolted.
“Now,” said the minister, spreading the tails of his frock coat. “Let us all just sit and wait.”
Thick, heavy silence filled the room, an almost visible miasma of suspense and foreboding. Colton, seated behind his boss’s desk, fiddled with paperwork on some unimportant matter; Justice had taken a chair near the door, with his weapon laid ominously across one thigh; Reese, feeling the jaws of this trap about to snap shut around him, stood in the corner like a condemned prisoner.
The wait was brief. Very shortly, Paul, looking exceptionally handsome in his wedding finery, hastened in, with Austin at his heels.
He looked around, at the motley collection of individuals inhabiting his office, and blinked. “Somebody mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on here?” he said mildly.
Colton had already risen and moved away from the sheriff’s chair, in anticipation.
The reverend had also risen. “My apologies for interrupting the festivities, Paul, but I’m afraid it was necessary. I hope your lovely bride was not disturbed?”