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  “There’s a gentleman to see you. His name is Winslow. Must be your kinfolk.”

  “Where did you put him?”

  “In the parlor.”

  Leah went to the parlor, and the man who faced her said at once, “My name is Tom Winslow. I’m a distant relative of your husband, Mrs. Winslow.”

  Leah was caught by surprise. “Is that right?” she said briefly. She did not ask him to sit down. “What can I do for you, Mr. Winslow?”

  Tom saw instantly that there was something wrong. He expected to be welcomed, and, as usual, he had made up his mind how to approach Stuart’s wife. He knew from his conversation with Stuart that the man was still in love with her and was grieved beyond belief over the way he had treated her. Tom had also heard much from Diane, so he knew the story of their difficult marriage. He had not expected, however, the hardness that he found in Leah Winslow.

  “I’m here to do what I can to reopen your husband’s case.”

  “What do you mean reopen it?”

  “I’m hoping to prove that the sentence was not just. I would like to have the case retried.”

  Reluctantly, Leah said, “Well, sit down, Mr. Winslow, and tell me about it.”

  As Tom launched into his story, he was aware of the coolness in the woman’s eyes. He was struck with her beauty, for at the age of thirty-three, she looked at least five years younger. She was wearing a pair of men’s jeans, which was somewhat shocking, but he had heard that she worked with the horses a great deal, and it revealed a practical side to her.

  Leah listened as her visitor spoke quickly, and finally she said, “You expect to get him out of prison?”

  “That’s my prayer. It’s also his mother’s prayer,” Tom said. He hesitated and then said, “I don’t want to pry, but I’ve talked to Stuart, and I’ve talked to his people. They both tell me that he was not a good husband.”

  “He was not.”

  The brevity and the coldness of Leah Winslow’s reply made Tom pause for a moment. “I think he’s changed, Mrs. Winslow.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  She listened as Tom described his meeting with Stuart, and then he repeated what the warden had said. “He’s convinced that he’s had a change of heart.”

  “I would have to see it to believe it. I wish you well, but I must tell you this, Mr. Winslow. I hope you can get Stuart out of prison, but even if he does, I can’t have him back. He’s caused nothing but shame and disgrace.” She hesitated, and her lips grew firm, and her eyes grew hard. “He has made it very difficult for my children. The other children are not kind, and they taunt them about having a jailbird for a father.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. A man can change, though.”

  Leah rose and said, “Thank you for coming by. I wish you well, and I wish Stuart well . . . but when you see him, you might tell him what I just told you.”

  Tom left the house feeling discouraged. She was an attractive woman and, from all accounts, a good mother and had been a good wife. He saw an adamant aspect to her character, and he shook his head, muttering aloud, “Stuart’s going to have a hard time when he hears how she feels.”

  ****

  Mott arrived for dinner with a new pocketknife for Raimey and a doll carriage for Merry. They were both pleased with their gifts, as they always were, and Mott said to Leah, “I ought to bring you gifts.”

  “Don’t do that, Mott,” she said quickly.

  They sat down to a dinner of delicious panfried catfish that Annie had prepared. Mott encouraged Raimey to tell how the fishing trip had gone and then said, “You and I’ll have to go fishing for trout sometime. You’ll have to use a different kind of pole.”

  “Could we, Mr. Castleton?”

  “I don’t see why not. Not now, of course, but in the spring we could go.”

  “Can I go, too?” Merry said.

  “Why, of course. You and your mother and brother could get a cabin up there on the river, and I could get another. We could have a real vacation there.”

  As the meal progressed, Leah was quieter than usual. She was wondering what it would be like to be married to Mott Castleton. She had never felt drawn to him as she had been to Stuart, but then, no other man had so captivated her heart as did Stuart Winslow that first time she saw him playing his violin and singing at the Fourth of July dance years ago. Nevertheless, watching as her children grew excited, she wondered, Would it be worth it to have a father for Raimey and Merry?

  After the meal was over they moved to the parlor. Mott had brought a bunch of new records for the gramophone, mostly war records: “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Smile, Smile, Smile,” “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier.”

  The war was on everyone’s mind, and once Mott shook his head as he listened to the lyrics and said, “I’ve been wondering what I’ll do when the war comes.”

  “Why, you wouldn’t join the army, would you?” Leah asked with surprise.

  “Well, I’m not too old. I couldn’t pace with some of these young fellows, but maybe I could do something.”

  The thought troubled Leah, and she said, “There must be something you could do here at home. Going overseas to fight is for young men.”

  “You’re probably right.” After that he said, “Hawaii’s big these days. I’ve got a couple of pretty cute records.” He played one called, “They’re Wearing Them Higher in Hawaii,” and then “On the Beach at Waikiki.”

  Mott stayed until the children’s bedtime, and then after they went to bed, he sat in front of the fire talking quietly. Leah found herself relaxed. She knew she liked Mott much better than when he had been a younger man. She also knew that he was in love with her.

  When he got up to leave, suddenly he turned to her and said, “Marry me, Leah.”

  “I . . . I just don’t know, Mott.” She hesitated and then said, “I had a visitor today.”

  Mott listened as Leah told him about Tom Winslow’s visit, and then he shook his head. “He may be able to get him out. I don’t know, but Stuart ruined your life once, Leah. Don’t let him do it again.” He put his arms around her suddenly, and she put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. “Let me be a dad to the kids and a husband to you.”

  He pulled her close, and Leah closed her eyes as he kissed her passionately. She tried to feel something in return, but all she knew was that she was confused.

  Mott drew back and said, “Think about it. I know getting a divorce is a terrible thing, but it’s terrible for youngsters to grow up without a dad. Or maybe even worse for Merry and Raimey to have a dad whose name everybody knows in the worst possible way.”

  Leah walked him to the porch and watched as he drove off; then she went back inside. She was more troubled than she had realized. Staring down into the yellow flames of the fire in the parlor, she had the feeling that time was passing her by. She was lonely, and although she did not feel for Mott what she had felt for Stuart, she knew that she once again longed to be a wife to someone who would love her and care for her children.

  Finally she turned and pressed her hands against her eyes and whispered, “I made a terrible mistake once. I can’t make another!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tom Winslow Gets Some Answers

  An iron gray sky cast a dull gloom over the land as Tom Winslow walked briskly along the side street. Dead leaves had piled up high, for towering oaks and elms had dropped their foliage earlier, and now the crackling sound that Tom’s boots made broke the silence. Overhead, far to the east, a group of four buzzards circled, gliding effortlessly, and not for the first time Tom thought, Strange that such an ugly bird can fly so beautifully. Like a lot of things, I guess they look better far off than they do up close. His philosophy amused him, and he shook his head and turned in to a single-story white house that sat back off the street. Smoke curled upward for almost twenty feet, and then the wind caught it and bent it into what looked like a question ma
rk. Mounting the steps, he rapped on the door and slapped his hands together, for a numbing cold was falling upon the earth. December was only three days away, and he could almost feel the snow that would soon be in the air.

  The door opened and a tall, homely man stood there, his blue eyes fixed on Winslow. Almost instantly, he said, “Well, I wondered when you’d get around to me. It’s Tom Winslow, isn’t it?”

  Surprised, Tom nodded. “That’s right. I don’t remember you, though.”

  “I’m Ace Devainy. We ain’t met, but I figured we would. Come on in out of the cold.”

  Moving inside, Tom glanced around and saw a pleasant-looking house with a long central hall with several doors and leading to an outer door at the rear. Right then a small girl with reddish blond hair came sailing out of one of the rooms, stopping when she caught sight of the visitor.

  “This is Mattie. This is Mr. Winslow, Mattie.”

  Mattie smiled and then turned and said, “Can I go outside and play?”

  “What did your mother say?”

  “I didn’t ask her. She might say no, but you always say yes.”

  Ace Devainy laughed and said, “Okay, go ahead, sweetheart. We’ll straighten it out with your ma later. Come on in by the fire. I just built it up.”

  Following the rawboned man into the parlor off to the right, Tom cast a glance around. It was a comfortable room filled with horsehide furniture, yellow curtains at the windows, and pine tables scattered everywhere covered with books and magazines.

  “Have a seat by the fire there. I’ve got coffee on the stove. Do you take it black?”

  “Black is fine.” Tom grinned. He liked the way the man didn’t ask him if he wanted coffee but simply assumed that he would.

  Five minutes later the two men were sitting before the fire as it snapped, crackled, and sent a myriad of golden sparks up the chimney. “I like a good fire,” Ace remarked. “I’d hate to live in a place so hot you couldn’t have one.” Without a pause, he said, “I guess you want to know about Stuart.” He held the cup in his hand, turned it around, and then after taking a sip said, “What have you found out?”

  “I didn’t know my activities were so well known.”

  “In a small town like this? You don’t know much about small towns, I take it. Every time a cat has a litter, everybody in the county knows about it. It gets on my nerves at times, but that’s the way it is.”

  “I guess you already know that I’m trying to get a retrial or to do something to get Stuart out of prison.”

  Ace’s eyes narrowed, and he ran his hand through his shaggy yellow hair. “I’d be mighty grateful if you could do that. Do you think there’s any chance?”

  “In law there’s nearly always a chance. You mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Fly right at it, Tom. If I can call you that.”

  “Sure. Well, just start in talking and tell me about you and Stuart.”

  “We was always best friends. Grew up together, hunted together—deer and girls and everything else, I guess. . . .”

  Winslow listened carefully, not taking notes, but soaking it all in. A picture had emerged of Stuart Winslow, and he had the feeling that this tall, homely man probably knew him as well as anyone. From what he had heard, the two had been quite the characters a few years back, raising all kinds of deviltry, playing together at dances, chasing women, drinking, and gambling. Now as he listened and noted the change in the man, Tom found himself liking Devainy very much.

  “I’m a tame coon now,” Ace shrugged. “Got a good wife and three young’uns. Twin boys. You’ll get a look at ’em before you leave. I think they’re gettin’ their bath right now.”

  The grandfather clock ticked loudly as it gave a syncopated air to the room. Over the mantelpiece was a painting of Custer’s Last Stand with the general dressed in yellow buckskin in the midst of the Battle at the Little Bighorn. Custer was shooting an Indian off a horse, but it was obvious that the general’s doom was certain. Tom studied the picture for a moment and then said, “I need some advice, Ace. I don’t know which way to go.”

  Ace started to answer, but at that moment a woman entered, and Ace said as the two men stood, “This is my wife, Ellie, and these are my boys, George and Henry.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Devainy.” Tom smiled and stepped closer to peer into the twin faces that stared up owlishly at him. “Which is George and which is Henry?”

  “It doesn’t make any difference. They’re just alike,” Ace said, winking at Winslow.

  “What a thing to say!” Ellie said. She had grown heavier, but there was a peace in her face that had not been there when she was a young woman. Marriage agreed with her, and having children even more so, and now she said quickly, “Take one of these lumps, Ace.”

  “Here, let me hold George,” Tom said quickly.

  “Do you have children of your own?”

  “A boy eight and a girl six,” Tom said. “Would like to have about half a dozen more, but Helen says I’m not quite ready for that yet. I’ll talk her into it, though.”

  The three sat down, and Tom enjoyed balancing the baby on his knee. “He’s a fine one,” he said. “I know you’re proud of your children.”

  Ellie shifted uncomfortably and said, “We’ve heard you’re trying to get Stuart set free.”

  “That’s right, Mrs. Devainy.”

  “I wish you well. But if you do get him out, make it clear to him that he needs to leave Leah alone. He’s brought nothing but misery to her, and now she’s got a chance to have something better.”

  “You ought not to talk like that, Ellie,” Ace said uncomfortably.

  “Why not? It’s true enough! Mott Castleton wants to marry her. He’s got money and could take care of her. He could be a good father to her kids, too.”

  Ace shook his head but argued no more. Tom sensed the discomfort between them and understood that these two differed strongly on the matter of Leah Winslow. He rose quickly and handed the baby back to Ellie, saying, “Thanks for your time. You’ve got fine children here.”

  “I’ll see you out,” Ace said.

  The two men walked outside, and when they were clear of the house, standing by the picket fence that surrounded the yard, Ace said, “Me and Ellie don’t quite agree on this thing. I don’t know what’s happened to Stuart in prison. It’s like he just faded off the face of the earth. But I worry about him every day. Do what you can for him, Tom.”

  “I’ll do that and thanks, Ace.”

  ****

  Sheriff Luke Garrison studied the young man across from him and nodded. “Yes, I was the first one there after the shootin’.”

  “How did you know to come?”

  “Stuart came in and got me. We picked up Doc Morton and went on out there.”

  “What did you find, Sheriff?”

  Shrugging his beefy shoulders, Garrison said, “Well, Carter was dead, and Cora had taken a shot high in the shoulder. Stuart had bandaged it up and stopped the bleeding but wouldn’t let her leave. It was fairly serious, and Doc had to give her something to let her sleep, so I didn’t get to talk to her much. She was hysterical about it, anyway.”

  Tom leaned forward in his chair and considered what Garrison had told him. “What did you think, Sheriff? I mean it’s all over now, but I guess everybody knows I’m tryin’ to get Stuart another chance.”

  “I hope you can do it, Mr. Winslow. I always liked Stuart. He was wild, but he comes from a good family. I think he’s got good stuff in him. I’ve heard from the warden that he’s kind of straightened up in the pen.” He shifted in his chair and looked across his desk. “A lot of men in jail get jailhouse religion. They just want out, so they’re bein’ good, but I know Warden Armstrong pretty well. We grew up together, and he tells me that’s not the case with Stuart.”

  “Yes. I’ve talked with Warden Armstrong, and I’ve talked with Stuart. My family owes a lot to Richard and his wife. I’m gonna bust a gut trying to get Stuart out of
there, so tell me everything you can.”

  “I’ll do that. The first thing was that Richard made a big mistake hiring Mordecai Frasier to defend Stuart. I told him so, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Mordecai’s a great man, but he was really out of it. A sharp lawyer, I think, would have gotten Stuart off. . . .”

  ****

  Tom’s interview with the Reverend Charles Fields was short but convincing. He listened as Fields expressed his eagerness to help, and finally he said, “Leah Winslow’s a member of your church.”

  “Yes. She has been ever since she came to Lewisville. Fine woman. Very fine!”

  Feeling that he might be treading on shaky ground, Tom said carefully, “I’ve heard a rumor that she might marry another man.”

  “Mott Castleton. Yes, it’s more than a rumor, I’m afraid.” A worried look crossed Fields’s features, and he shook his head. “The Bible’s pretty plain about that. In Mark eleven, verse ten, Jesus said, ‘Whosoever shall put away his wife, and marry another, committeth adultery against her. And if a woman shall put away her husband, and be married to another, she committeth adultery.’ That’s always been pretty plain to me, but this country’s changing. More and more divorce all the time. I hate to see it.”

  “I think it’s terrible,” Tom said soberly.

  This matter had apparently weighed hard on Charles Fields. He shook his head and said, “Do you know, Mr. Winslow, there are some kinds of physical problems that we can get over and some we can’t? For example, if we get a case of the flu, we can recover and live just as if it had never happened. But if we have an auto wreck and lose a leg, we may live, but we’ll have to limp around the rest of our lives. I think divorce is like that. From what I’ve seen, people never really get over it. It leaves a wound that just won’t heal up. Don’t get me wrong. They go on with life, but it’s never the same.”

  “I agree, and I was a little surprised at Mrs. Winslow. I was expecting something else.”

  Reverend Fields put his hands together, squeezed them, and then shook his head. “I’m very concerned about her. She had such a wonderful, happy spirit, but after the tragedy, she seemed to lose some of her faith. Oh, she still comes to church and brings the children, but there’s not any joy in it for her anymore.” He got up, walked over to the window, and stared out for a moment, then turned back and locked his hands behind him. “I think she’ll marry Mott Castleton for the children’s sake. She’s very concerned about them not having a father.”