“Speaking of hopes,” Susan said, “I was really hoping you could get me in to see Bull again, maybe even get me on the visitors’ list so I could see him every day, on my own. Can you do that?”
Purvis took his time, arranging a stack of papers on his desk. When he looked up at her again, Susan knew something was wrong.
He cleared his throat. “I spoke with Bull this morning. He gave me a message to pass on. You’re not to come to the jail again. If you do, he’ll refuse to see you. And you’re not to stay on the Rimrock. You’re to go back to Georgia, move on with your life, and forget you ever met him. It’s over—for good.”
CHAPTER 19
THAT NIGHT ON THE PORCH STEPS, SUSAN TOLD JASPER ABOUT BULL’S decision.
A long time seemed to pass before he replied: “Bull’s a proud man. I’d call him a fool, but I understand where he’s coming from. He wanted to give you a perfect life. Now, as he sees it, that’s not possible. For him, there’s no such thing as half measures.”
Susan gazed up at the waning moon. “I can be proud, too, Jasper. Too proud to grovel on my knees to a man who doesn’t want me. I’d planned to spend the rest of my life here on the Rimrock. Even if Bull went to prison, I told myself I’d be here for him. Now he’s told me we’re finished, and I don’t know what to do next. My parents have disowned me. I need a job, a place to live . . .” She struggled to hold back the tears. She’d be damned if she was going to cry about this—at least not in front of Jasper.
“You don’t have to leave right away,” Jasper said. “Stick around a while—at least until the grand jury rules next week and we know whether there’ll be a trial. Bull’s a stubborn son of a gun, but he’s crazy in love with you. If he gets off, things are bound to look different from the other side of the bars.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” Susan picked up a pebble from the step and tossed it into the yard. The dogs, tethered for the night, pricked their ears, then settled back into their spot next to the porch.
“Believe me, I know what it’s like to love a woman the way Bull loves you, and then lose her. You never get over it. If Bull lets you go, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. But right now he’s not thinking of that.”
Susan knew about Jasper’s fiancée. She suspected he would never love again, being the man that he was. But she couldn’t believe Bull loved her the same way. He’d had other women in the past. It wouldn’t take him long to find someone else.
“I’ll stay,” she said. “But only until I can make other arrangements. Bull said it himself—it’s over.”
Jasper stood. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “You’re just as mule-headed as he is. I’m goin’ to bed.”
The screen door closed behind him. Susan waited until his footsteps faded and she heard the click of his bedroom door. Only then did she bury her face in her hands and give way to wracking sobs.
* * *
She woke the next morning to a quiet house. The time on the bedside clock was 7:10. Jasper would have long since risen, made coffee, and gone out to start the morning chores.
After pulling on jeans and a shirt, she pattered barefoot into the kitchen. The coffee Jasper had left her was cold. She made a fresh pot, poured herself a mug, added creamer, and wandered out onto the porch.
Perching on the steps, she sipped her coffee and watched the last pale tint fade from the sunrise. She’d hoped her outlook would be brighter this morning, but after a night of too many worries and too little sleep, the days ahead of her loomed like a mountain of heartbreaking decisions. She’d been handed a new kind of life to build—a life without the man she loved. And she didn’t know where to begin.
As the sun rose, shadows melted in the yard. A meadowlark trilled from the pasture beyond the barn. The two dogs, let loose at first light by Jasper, frolicked in the sunshine. One dog thrust his head into the space under the porch and came out with something that looked like a dried rabbit skin. Playing, he raced in circles, tossing his prize in the air and catching it.
The other dog seemed more interested in Susan. With a low whimper, he came up the steps and sat down close beside her. Her first impulse was to move away, but the dog seemed to sense her troubled mood. It was almost as if he wanted to comfort her.
Gingerly, she scratched one shaggy ear. “Hello, boy,” she murmured. “Are you Shep or Pal? I guess as long as you want to keep me company, that doesn’t matter.”
The dog closed his eyes and sighed as she scratched downward past his collar and worked her way toward his chin. His tail thumped against the step. “So you like that, do you?” Susan teased. “I bet you don’t get enough petting around here. If you two would clean up your act . . .”
Her words trailed off as her fingers touched something small and hard stuck to the fur at the corner of his jaw. She bent closer to look.
Ugh! Her hand jerked away. It looked very much like a drop of dried blood, tangled in the long hair. Where could it have come from?
From anywhere, she reasoned. When they weren’t tied to the porch at night, those dogs roamed all over the ranch. The blood could have come from the pasture, or from some small animal, like a prairie dog, killed and eaten.
Susan tried to dismiss what she’d found. But her thoughts were racing. The dogs would have been t
ied to the porch when Ham Prescott was blasted with that shotgun. They had witnessed the shooting. Could the blood on the dog’s fur be Ham’s? Even the thought made her shudder.
The dog in the yard, tired from tossing his rabbit skin, had brought it back to the shade of the porch, where he lay in the warm dust, worrying the thing with his teeth.
Susan remembered the missing gun—the gun that, if found and proven to be Ham’s, could set Bull free. Would a dog pick up a metal gun, even a small pistol, and carry it off to hide? It didn’t seem likely.
Unless the gun had blood on it.