September Rain Read online

“Of course you are, my dear,” Myers said insistently. “Sheriff, I’ll give you a statement. I saw Crazy Jake attacking her.”

  Shock reverberated through Hallie. She stared at Myers. He was lying. Why?

  “You actually saw it, Brent?” the sheriff asked.

  “That’s right. When we happened upon them Crazy Jake was choking the life out of her.”

  “No he wasn’t,” Hallie interjected. “Why are you saying this? He saved me.”

  “Miss Hallie,” the Sheriff said. “What are you talking about? Who was it if it wasn't Crazy Jake?”

  "I don't know who it was. I was walking home when someone came up behind me and grabbed me.” Her voice broke as the memory of the man’s leering face, his groping hands, and her helplessness resurfaced. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Sheriff,” the doctor said warningly.

  “It’s okay.” She lifted her chin, forcing herself to remember exactly what had happened. “I had just stepped off the boardwalk down toward the end of town. He grabbed me and dragged me behind the livery.” She swallowed hard and smoothed her hands down her skirt, noticing for the first time that the hem was torn and dirty. “He was fat and he stank. His hands were dirty. His breath was foul. He was missing some teeth.” She took a long, shaky breath, trying to calm her increasingly shrill voice. “He pushed me down on the ground. He tore my skirt--”

  The doctor started to speak but Hallie held up her hand. “I screamed, and he began--choking me with those filthy hands.” Tears started in her eyes as she remembered how helpless she’d felt when his fingers had stopped her breath.

  “Then Jacob Chandler pulled him off me. Mr. Myers is mistaken. Jacob didn’t attack me. He saved me.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “I ain’t seen anybody fits what you’re describing. Fat and missing teeth? Probably a drifter.”

  Myers’ face turned red. “I’m telling you, Sheriff, it was Crazy Jake. I was right there. There was nobody else.”

  “Can you find the man?” Hallie asked she sheriff. “I’ve always thought I could take care of myself, but he was so mean, so rough. If it hadn’t been for Jacob--”

  The sheriff sighed. “I’ll ask around in the morning. See if anyone saw him, but he’s probably long gone.”

  “What -- what if he’s not?” Reaction began to set in and Hallie’s whole body trembled. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, but she still felt cold. Cold and exposed and alone.

  “Don’t you worry yourself, Miss Hallie,” Myers soothed. “I’ll protect you.”

  Hallie didn’t look at Myers. The idea of him protecting her was not comforting. In fact, it made her want to shrink away. Suddenly the enormity of what had happened overwhelmed her and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Now look what you’ve done, Sheriff. You’ve gone and upset Miss Hallie.” Myers' oily voice slithered around Hallie like a snake.

  The sheriff picked up his hat and reached for the doorknob.

  “Sheriff?” Hallie hated the way her voice quavered.

  The sheriff turned back. “Yes’m Miss Hallie?”

  “What about Mr. Chandler? Are you going to let him go?”

  “Of course he’s not,” Myers said impatiently. “Chandler’s guilty.”

  The sheriff broke in. “If Miss Hallie says it wasn’t him, I got no reason to hold him.”

  Hallie closed her eyes against the tears that still threatened and shook her head carefully. “It wasn’t Jacob Chandler.”

  Myers got in the lawman’s face. “And I say she’s not herself right now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re so het up about,” the Sheriff retorted. “Chandler won’t get far, bad as your men beat him.”

  “Oh,” Hallie gasped. “Doctor? You’ll go to see him won’t you? Treat the injuries he suffered because of me?”

  “Just have him come by here, Sheriff. I’ll fix him up.”

  The Sheriff nodded.

  Myers glared at the Sheriff. “We need to talk, Sheriff Waites.”

  The sheriff shot a venomous look at Myers Hallie couldn’t fail to see. “I’m still the law in this town. And I’ll do what I think is right.” He turned and stalked out of the doctor’s office, slamming the door behind him.

  Myers patted Hallie’s shoulder and spoke to the doctor. “You going to keep an eye on my little Hallie tonight, Doc?”

  “Your little--?” Hallie croaked indignantly, jerking away from his touch.

  “I think so," the doctor said. "She probably needs a sleeping draught. She's not too badly bruised, but she might have nightmares about the experience.”

  Myers’ hand tightened on her shoulder. Hallie tried to slip out of his grasp by leaning back against the pillows, but his fingers, while not hurtful, were insistent. She didn’t like him touching her. His touch seemed as snake-like as his voice.

  “I’ll come by in the morning and take you home. How’s that?”

  Hallie closed her eyes to avoid responding. Maybe if he thought she was exhausted, he would leave. The idea that he had unfairly accused Jacob Chandler of being her attacker worried and confused her. Why would Myers deliberately lie about Jacob? And how could he have been there so quickly, but failed to see the other man, the man who really attacked her?

  “It would probably be best if you left now, Mr. Myers,” the doctor said. “Miss Greer needs some rest. She’s looking awfully pale.”

  After Myers left, Hallie sat up. “I’m going home now, doctor.”

  The doctor frowned at her. “You should wait until morning. You’re still shaky and weak.”

  Hallie looked at him. “I don’t want Mr. Myers to take me home,” she said as clearly as she could with her hoarse voice.

  “I see,” the doctor said, raising his brows.

  Hallie nodded. "I'm glad you do."

  “Then I will take you home tonight.”

  At first Hallie was relieved. Then a thought occurred to her. “No, doctor. You have to wait for Jacob Chandler. You have to treat his injuries.”

  “I tell you what Miss Hallie. I’ll see you home then come back by the jail and check up on Craz -- on Mr. Chandler. How’s that?” Doctor Ketchum smiled at her.

  “I appreciate it,” Hallie croaked, coughing again. “I won’t be able to sleep unless I know someone is looking after him.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  When the doctor delivered her home, Hallie thanked him and hurried inside, leaning against the closed door in sudden exhaustion as a wave of dizziness engulfed her. She had lied to the doctor by telling him she was no longer dizzy and weak. He’d glanced at her unbelievingly, but had demurred, admonishing her to take a stout dose of whiskey before she went to bed. Hot tea with whiskey and honey sounded very good to her.

  Straightening, she turned and fumbled with the key, locking the door, then testing it to be sure it was secure. She clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling.

  “Fine spinster I am,” she muttered to herself. “Afraid of my own shadow. I will not allow myself to be frightened by one incident with a drifter who has probably already left town.” Her father had never locked his doors. She reached out to turn the key but her fingers wouldn’t work.

  She was just tired. After a good night’s sleep, she was sure she’d feel much better. She made her tea, poured in a little bourbon and a spoonful of honey and took it into the bedroom. But the fear would not leave her. There was a lot on her mind, and tea and rest weren’t going to fix it.

  She lay down and pulled the covers up over her head, but every time she closed her eyes she saw soft, blue ones staring at her in kind concern. Her ears rang with the sound of fists meeting flesh, and it seemed the smell of blood pervaded her nostrils. All she could think about was Jacob Chandler, beaten and bloody because of her, and jailed unjustly.

  Doctor Ketchum was probably treating his injuries now, and the sheriff had promised to release him, so there was nothing else Hallie could do. Still, she couldn’t forget the rage on Brent Myers’ f
ace when the sheriff defied him.

  As she began to drift off to sleep, Hallie’s thoughts wandered. Jacob Chandler had smiled at her this morning. Right now, she thought sleepily, the morning and her innocent pleasure at the light in his eyes seemed a lifetime ago.

  ##

  HALLIE WOKE AT sunrise, anxious to make sure Jacob was all right. Rising gingerly, she found she could stand without dizziness, so she quickly bathed, dressed, and headed up the street to the jail. As she passed the livery she averted her eyes, unwilling to look upon the place where she’d been attacked.

  She stepped into the jailhouse. “Good morning, Sheriff.”

  He stood. “Why good morning, Miss Greer. You sure seem a lot more chipper this morning.”

  She smiled. “Doctor Ketchum’s prescription for hot tea and whiskey helped me sleep. I’d like to speak to Mr. Chandler, to thank him.”

  “He’s not here. He left last night, soon as I told him he was free to go. I tried to get him to rest here for the night, but he wouldn’t. It was a painful sight, to watch him move.” The sheriff shook his head.

  Hallie stared at him. “The doctor saw him, didn’t he? He promised me he’d come straight here after he took me home.”

  “He did, but Crazy Jake had already gone.”

  “Oh, no,” Hallie moaned. “How could you let him leave without seeing the doctor?”

  “Miss Hallie, I tried to talk to the man, but he just stared right through me. Acted like he didn’t even hear me.”

  Hallie rushed out of the jailhouse and over to the doctor’s office. She banged on his door. “Doctor Ketchum! Doctor!”

  He opened the door and squinted at Hallie as he settled his spectacles onto his nose. “Miss Hallie, are you all right? Come in.”

  “I’m fine. It’s Jacob Chandler I’m worried about. You didn’t see to his injuries last night?”

  “He was gone by the time I got to the jail house.”

  Hallie frowned. “You must go after him. You have to make sure he’s all right.”

  “Now Miss Hallie. Crazy Jake obviously don’t want to be treated, or he would’ve come to see me. You can’t force somebody to accept help. Trust me. I’ve learned this over the years.”

  “But he could be bleeding. He was badly hurt by Myers’ men.”

  The doctor nodded, and gave Hallie an assessing look. “If you ask me, Jacob Chandler is hurting from more than just a beating.”

  Hallie’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

  The doctor took off his spectacles and polished them on his shirttail. “I don’t think he’s ever gotten over his wife being killed and him unable to help her. I tried to talk to him while he was recovering from having his throat slit, but --”

  “Having his throat slit?” Hallie felt her face drain of blood.

  “Yep. Have you never heard his story?”

  Hallie shook her head. “I heard he was injured when his wife was killed, but I didn’t know exactly how.”

  “Outlaws raided his place, looking for horses to steal. They killed his wife, who was with child, and they slit Chandler’s throat, but he lived.”

  Hallie grasped the door facing as the doctor’s words built an image in her mind. Her heart ached for the man whose smile had brightened her day and whose unselfish bravery had saved her life. “And now he’s hurt because of me. Oh, I have to help him.”

  “Like I was saying, Miss Greer, I don’t believe he wants help. And nobody can make a man accept help if he don’t want it.” The doctor smiled at her. “Not even you.”

  Hallie lifted her chin. “I am responsible for what happened to him. I owe him, Doctor. I owe him a lot, possibly my life. I cannot just sit by while he may be in great pain, or even dying.”

  “Well good luck, Miss Greer. Three years ago nobody could get through to him. People quit trying. Then when he returned only to seclude himself up in the mountains, people decided he was crazy.”

  Hallie searched the doctor’s face. “Is he?” Her heart pounded, as if the doctor’s answer were of utmost importance to her. Maybe it was.

  He reseated his glasses on his nose and gave Hallie an assessing look. “That’s hard to say. Back then I’d have said no. He was just a man with a powerful grief, and a need for vengeance. But now? After all this time?” He shrugged.

  Disappointed that he wouldn’t reveal any more, Hallie thanked him and turned away.

  “Miss Greer? Where are you going? You want me to look at your neck again?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m just going to rest today,” she said lightly. “Thank you.”

  Hallie rushed back toward her house, her thoughts in turmoil. Jacob had left last night. No one, not even the doctor, knew how badly he’d been hurt.

  As she passed the livery, Hallie once again looked away, but something caught her eye. It was a pack mule, drooping under the weight of a huge pack and grazing tiredly near the mountain path behind the livery.

  Her hand went to her mouth as she realized the import of what she saw. Even if he made it to his cabin, he’d left his pack mule with all his supplies for the winter behind. If the mule stayed here, someone would take it.

  Hallie looked around, wondering who she could get to help her. Nobody cared about the man they all called Crazy Jake. Nobody but her. Rushing back to her house, praying she wouldn’t be seen, Hallie changed into riding clothes, then saddled her horse and headed back to where the mule grazed.

  This time, she surveyed the site with an objective, assessing eye. She saw the evidence of her struggle in the dusty street. Fear clogged her throat as she remembered her ordeal. She swallowed hard. On the side of the road she found crushed grass and a rock with a dark smear on it. She dismounted and touched the dark smudge. A streak of brown stained her fingertips.

  Blood. Probably Jacob Chandler’s blood. Shed for her.

  Her heart pounded as she continued her study of the area. She was no tracker, but anyone could see the crushed grass and broken branches where something had pushed through the bushes.

  She remounted and reached for the mule’s bridle. “Come on, Jenny,” Hallie said, calling the mule by the name her father had always given to all his mules. “I know you’re tired but I have a feeling Jacob Chandler needs us. Let’s go find him and see how he’s doing.” She clucked to her little mare and coaxed it forward, following the tracks which traced the little-used path up the mountain.

  For more than three hours she urged the mare forward over the difficult terrain, unwilling to think about how long the trail was. Unwilling to consider how foolish it was to head up the mountain by herself this time of year when the days were growing shorter and the shadows held a foretaste of the coming winter’s chill. Unwilling to think of how alone she was, with nothing but her father’s ancient shotgun for a weapon. Unwilling to admit to herself that she had no idea where she was going or what she might find once she got there.

  At one point beside the path, a large area of grass and twigs was crushed, as if someone had sat or lain on the trail. Hallie dismounted and bent down to look closely at the ground. She picked up a dried leaf and found a bloody fingerprint on its surface. Fear and dread weakening her limbs, she climbed back onto her horse.

  He had fallen off his horse. A mixture of fear for his life and admiration for the strength of will it must have taken him to remount the horse coursed through her.

  At last, well past noon, as the sky began to darken with rain clouds, Hallie’s mare stepped out of the woods into a small clearing in front of a tiny, rough cabin.

  A big gelding stood there, saddled and restless. She tied the mule and her horse beside it. Was this Jacob’s place?

  Muttering a quiet apology to the three animals and promising to take care of them as soon as she could, she knocked on the door of the cabin.

  “Mr. Chandler?” she called. Her voice was still hoarse, and it was hard to speak past the racing of her heart. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Mr. Chandler? Jacob?”

&n
bsp; She pushed on the door. When it opened, she stood stock still for a moment, listening, expecting something to happen, not knowing what.

  Her heart pounded like thunder in her temples. What if he’d made it home only to die? A fierce apprehension tempered with regret suffused her. She stepped into the cool darkness of the cabin and closed the door behind her. Slowly, the darkness around her coalesced into recognizable silhouettes.

  The cabin was a single room, containing nothing but the essentials. A wooden table sat in its center with one rough-hewn chair, a fireplace lined one wall, and on the other wall, below a blanket-draped window, was a bed. The loneliness of the single chair reached out to her.

  She noticed something on the bed. Someone.

  She froze. “Mr. Chandler? Jacob?”

  He was curled up on his side, still as death. Hallie blinked and stepped closer, trying to see in the semi-darkness.

  Suddenly a picture of what she was doing flashed before her vision. She was standing in a cabin, alone and defenseless, looking for a man she did not even know. She drew in courage with a deep breath.

  The ladies of Goshen Springs would be horrified, but then they were horrified at her often enough for not marrying, for running a store alone, for speaking her mind. They would be quick to say she had invited her attack by walking alone at dusk. And they would not understand her need to ride up here alone to check on the man who had saved her life.

  Hallie shrugged. She was too old to worry about what people said. And at twenty-nine, she was in very little danger of hurting her reputation.

  She watched the shadowy figure on the bed, but it didn’t move.

  “Jacob?” If he was dead, she would kill Brent Myers with her bare hands.

  Creeping carefully and quietly across the rough floor, she finally stood no more than two feet from the simple frame bed. A blanket covered the bed and the man lay on top of the blanket, clad only in buckskin breeches.

  He was whipcord slender, and with his bare shoulders and bare feet he could have been a boy taking a nap. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she had to revise her first impression. This was no boy. It was Jacob Chandler. His leanness was deceptive. Long muscles defined his shoulders and arms. His legs looked powerful and sleek beneath the buckskin.