Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

Sarah smiled. For the first time since the ceremony.

“Thank you, Millie. I know you are right. I guess because Mattie is where he is going worries me too.”

“I can tell you, knowing John and Mattie both, he loves you and not a little seventeen-year-old girl. She is with her parents who can control her. You need to work on some trust. You have trusted your life with him, why not your heart?”

Sarah was quiet and thought a while. Millie was right. At the end of the kidnap recovery, the villain pointed his gun at Sarah and was going to pull the trigger and kill her. Pope, with two bullets in him, forced the will to shoot the man in the back of his head and kill him instantly before losing consciousness. He saved her even though it could had caused his own death. Thank God, she thought, it had not, but it was very close. And, the girls, including Martha who she thought of as her little sister, had taken care of her John so she could get much needed rest. Taken care of him during very controlled hospital conditions. Done it very professionally for kids. So the young one cared for Pope. Was she any competition for Sarah? Hell no! Sarah committed herself to worrying about things worthy of her concern. She hugged Millie who then padded silently back to bed. Sarah was asleep soon.

She awoke on a strong shoulder. With a strong arm around her. She smiled before even opening her eyes.

“Good morning, husband. Or should I say Sheriff Husband?”

Pope, still asleep with the two hours he would get for the evening, mumbled something. She kissed him on the cheek. His mustache tickled her nose and she giggled. She took off her nightgown for some real, skin to skin warmth and went back to sleep herself.

Pope awoke later. Sarah was still on his shoulder but had lost her nightgown. He hoped he had not missed something important on this special night. He stroked her back and she purred. Purred in contrast to the Blue Tick hound snoring on the floor beside him. Could it get any better than this? He wondered for a second. Then, he realized it absolutely could not.

He patted Sarah gently on the bottom and went back to sleep.

The next morning, it was still raining. He put on his suit and a slicker and rode into his office at San Rafael. The Lanes, minus Harriett were waiting.

“Hi, folks. Long night.”

“Are you serious about hiring my eldest daughter as a deputy sheriff? I have plans to send her to college.”

“She has spoken with both Sarah and me about policing. We’ve tried to give her straight forward answers. The talks have not progressed any further.”

“Did you get the shooter, John,” Mattie asked, changing the subject away from her sister.

“We did get the shooter. Your shooter, as it turned out. A former suitor named Thomas Maupin.” He looked at Lane first and Mattie second. The latter turned crimson.

“I know the young man. He comes from a good family. Will he go to prison?” Lane asked.

“His sentence is up to the judge. He will be found guilty. We have his confession. I expect to dig a bullet out of the guest house and compare it forensically to the rifle I took away from him. I’m glad it was not more powerful. He could have accidentally killed one of you. He did say he figured the little .32-20 would not penetrate walls. I know it can, so he was lucky. So was everyone in the guest house.”

“Should I get his father to send a lawyer over?”

“Everybody is entitled to the best defense they can get,” Pope said.

“We will be leaving on the first ferry in the morning,” Lane said.

“Thank all of you for coming. Sarah and I feel you all are special to us after the kidnapping and helping after I stepped in front of a couple bullets.”

“Is Miss Harriett alright?” Pope asked.

“She’s in one of her moods,” Martha responded before her father could stop her.

“I hope she gets better,” Pope said, concluding his thoughts with the simple sentence.

“We have really missed Millie. She gave a sense of balance to our household,” Lane said.

“She is truly a gem beyond compare. She seems very happy living in a cabin in the woods, collecting berries for pies, growing a small vegetable garden, and looking after my grandfather. Trying to keep him from climbing tall trees and jumping wide creeks is a full-time job, and she does it like nobody else could,” Pope said.

“Certainly, the impression all of us got seeing her yesterday,” Lane said, the two daughters nodding their agreement.

“Does Mattie have to be at the trial to testify, since she knows Maupin?” Lane asked.

“No, I doubt it. I think we have a tight enough case. Of course, anyone is welcome to come and watch it.”

“No, I think we have seen quite enough of Thomas Maupin for a lifetime,” Lane said as they left. His youngest daughter was quite subdued. Pope reckoned the two girls would sway their father to bring them back, albeit for different reasons.

Maupin was moved to the jail before Pope arrived. He went over to the prosecutor’s office and introduced himself. The prosecutor seemed young, but Pope realized he was approaching thirty like Pope himself. They hit it off well.

Pope warned him a likely big shot San Francisco attorney might be coming across the Bay to represent him. They spoke about the fact he was a smart aleck but did not truly resist, said he was trying to scare the Lanes and not hurt anybody and thought his lower power rifle would not penetrate the walls of the house.

The prosecutor suggested aggravated assault and holding drunk and disorderly as a plea agreement with the defense attorney. Both knew he did not appear to be inebriated but thought it may be an acceptable compromise.

A magistrate