No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(80)
“It was a slaughter.” Helen frowned. “Even the ones in the coop didn’t escape. Reminded me of fighting dogs. Bred to be killers. They didn’t even pause to eat what they killed, just chased down everything that moved. I grabbed my gun and ran out to try to stop them.”
“I didn’t want her to go,” Katie interrupted, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was so afraid they’d turn on her. I held her back. If I hadn’t, maybe some of the hens would still be—”
“You did nothing wrong, Katie.” Helen’s voice was firm, almost impatient. But there was a kindness to it, too, that seemed to reassure the younger woman. “Nothing was going to stop those dogs.” She turned back to Malachi. “I shot in the air. Scared them off. They yelped and ran toward the river, leaving nothing but destruction behind.”
Betty patted Helen’s shoulder. “When I got back, I found meat scraps by the gate. Someone unlatched the gate but kept it closed so we wouldn’t suspect anything. Then they laid out scraps to lure the dogs in.” Betty turned hard eyes on Mal. “No man could’ve gotten that close in broad daylight without one of us noticing.” Her gaze shifted to the crowd standing around the wagon. “One of our own did this.”
Gasps and disbelieving murmurs spread through the crowd as ladies turned to look at their neighbors. Anger. Fear. Confusion. However, one face in the crowd registered nothing but determination. The face he admired most.
Without missing a beat, Emma hiked up her skirts, scaled the closest wagon wheel, and pulled herself up onto the driver’s box. She stood tall. Resolute.
“Ladies!” She dropped her skillet onto the bench seat and clapped her hands twice to get their attention. Unfortunately, the commotion had grown too unruly in the brief moment it had taken her to climb into the wagon.
Mal lifted his fingers to his mouth to give a sharp whistle like the one he used to call Ulysses, but Emma beat him to it. Curving thumb and forefinger and placing them just past the edge of her retracted lips, she let out a piercing blast that had him grinning with pride. Mal leaned back on his heels. He’d taught her that. They’d been kids at the time, but still . . . no one could deny the woman’s impressive pitch and volume.
Especially not the ladies milling about the street. The instant the whistle hit the air, their clamor died, and all heads jerked up to face their leader.
“Thank you.” Emma nodded, satisfied that she had everyone’s attention. “What happened at the farm is an abomination, and the fact that one of our own might have been involved is devastating. But hear me. We cannot afford to turn on each other, to allow suspicion and distrust to destroy our unity. We have an enemy to defeat, and if he senses that we no longer stand together, he will swoop in and tear us apart as efficiently as those dogs laid waste to Betty’s hens. Our strength is in our solidarity. If that is lost, we have nothing with which to make our stand.”
“But how can we stand together when one of the links in our chain is busted?” Betty challenged, her chin jutted forward, her eyes blazing.
Mal started to move toward the wagon, thinking to jump up beside Emma and make a tangible show of support. But a quick glance from her warned him off.
“You’re absolutely right, Betty. We can’t depend on a weakened link. But neither can we discard it into the scrap heap. We don’t know her motives, what kind of hold our enemy might have over her. What if she is as much a victim as the rest of us? What if the outlaw is threatening the life of someone she loves in order to gain her cooperation? What if he’s blackmailing her or forcing her to do his bidding by some other means?”
Malachi watched the faces of the women around him. Some softened in sympathy, others crinkled in confusion, while others hardened even further.
Betty’s was about as soft as a slab of granite. “What if she’s simply a Judas, getting paid to turn on her own? Or what if she’s the outlaw’s lover and has been in on the plan from the very beginning? We can’t just look the other way, not when people—sisters—could die.”
Murmurs of agreement rose again, but Emma held up a hand to silence them. “You’re right. We don’t know the true motives of the one who has aided our enemy. But every one of us came to Harper’s Station with the hope of starting over. We all have things in our past that we wanted to escape or change or forget. None of us are in a position to cast stones. That’s why I’m going to give whoever is involved the chance to make the right decision. To come to me. Privately. Tonight at the station house, I’ll leave the front door unlocked, and I’ll be waiting in the parlor. All night. There will be no blame given, no punishment inflicted. In fact, I will provide safe passage out of town before first light and funds for a train ticket to someplace new. An escape and a chance for a fresh start, no questions asked.”
“And if the traitor don’t show up?” Betty jabbed.
“Then we’ll have to try something more drastic, like doing away with privacy and making sure no one is left alone at any time. There will be nowhere she can hide and no way she can aid the outlaw. Whatever consequences arise because of that will be on her own head.” Emma scanned the audience, slowly, her gaze hesitating over each lady in the crowd. “So, please. Whoever you are. Come see me tonight. It is the best option, both for your safety and for ours.”
After that final plea, Emma stepped to the edge of the wagon. Mal hurried forward to help her down. She offered him a small smile of thanks, then turned and walked back to the station house, head held high despite the fact that her tender heart must be throbbing with disappointment and grief.