The memory was bittersweet now that Papa was gone and Lina was so far from home. She tucked it away and focused her attention on the building in front of her as a nightbird of some kind struck up a lonesome song. She moved quickly around the office and jail, just in case Hawk was struck with some desire to come around the front of the house. Or, even worse, he discovered his keys missing and came searching the office for them.
The street was mostly empty, save for music and laughter coming from the saloons that sat farther down the road. Perseverance was such an odd town, Lina thought as she studied the front of the office. How such quiet and such raucous noise could co-exist peacefully, she couldn’t quite put together in her mind. Back home, Sweetwater had one saloon, and it closed nightly before midnight. Here, the saloons seemed to be open the whole night through, and while they got rowdy, Hawk said that for the most part, he and his men didn’t need to intervene.
It was testament to his hard work, Lina supposed. He’d mentioned in passing how lawless Perseverance had once been. She ought to ask him more about it to satisfy her own curiosity. He’d likely enjoy telling the story, and Lina smiled at the thought of Hawk regaling her with something about which he was proud.
What was shedoing? Lina shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Here she was, standing like a daydreaming fool in the dead of night outside the darkened sheriff’s office, not giving a single thought to why she was here or whether she might be caught in the act.
Keep your wits about you, Carolina Groves, she thought. A momentary recollection that Groves was no longer her last name flitted through her mind, but she forced it aside, focusing instead on trying a key in the door’s lock. She’d chosen correctly, and the door opened with a gentleclick.
Lina slipped inside, where it was even darker given there was no moon or starlight to illuminate the single large room. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust, but even as they did, she knew there was no way she could examine the contents of drawers or that large wardrobe without any sort of light.
A lamp and matches sat on a table beside the door. That was all well and good, except someone could easily see the light coming from the windows. Someone like Deputy Garland or any one of Hawk’s other men who might be out and about. Or even Hawk himself, if he couldn’t sleep. But if she could cover the windows . . .
The solution was simple enough, and Lina almost laughed at herself when she discovered both windows were covered with crudely-made curtains. It made sense, she supposed, as she ensured each set was drawn tightly across the glass. If someone had ill designs on the sheriff and his men, it was no use allowing them to easily look into the windows.
The glass sufficiently covered, Lina struck a match and lit the lamp. Lifting it, she glanced around the room. It looked much the same as it had when she’d first seen it. The desk and chairs, the misplaced wardrobe, the squat little stove in the corner in front of the rear door, and the door that led to the jail—where Pete Turley currently resided.
Where to begin? Lina chewed her lip for a few seconds as she assessed the room. The desk seemed to be the best option. She said a quick prayer that she would find something. Perhaps Papa’s personal effects, notes about the day her father died, some indication of where Papa had been before he and his men had been cornered, or, as unlikely as it seemed, a written account of what he’d told Hawk.
She set the lamp atop the desk and pulled at one of the drawers. To her everlasting relief, it was unlocked. The drawer held a stack of papers—a map of the area, some purchase receipts, and wanted posters, both new and old. Lina paused at the image of her father’s likeness. The artist hadn’t captured him exactly, but the eyes were perfect. She ran a finger lightly over the crinkles at the corners, seeing the startling blue of his eyes—the same as hers—staring back at her from the simple ink drawing.I saved it up for you, Lina-girl. For you and Matthew, she could almost hear him say.
“But where?” she asked under her breath.
She replaced the posters and other sheets back into the drawer, closed it, and began rifling through another, which contained various odds and ends—keys, an extra pair of pistols, ammunition. She shut the drawer. The desk had yielded no useful information.
Lina lifted her lamp and made for the wardrobe next. It was the only other possible place in this room that could contain paperwork. She swung the door open and cringed as it creaked. But if Mr. Turley in his cell heard it beyond the closed door, he didn’t think enough of it to call out.
The wardrobe held all sorts of things—a couple of coats, a clean shirt, a knitted scarf, some dirty gloves. There were a couple of full canvas sacks holding more pistols and ammunition, a couple of bills and some coins, and various other items that looked as if they’d come from a man’s pockets. Some of this likely belonged to Turley, Lina realized as she glanced through the second of the two sacks. But none of it appeared to have come from Papa.
She pushed the sacks aside and found a stack of papers. Raising the lamp higher, she flipped through them where they sat on the floor of the wardrobe. There were some old letters, dated far earlier than Lina was interested. A couple of telegrams that looked as if they’d come through some other town with a railroad and telegraph lines. Some more purchase receipts. Another short letter, this one dated—Lina squinted in the shadowy light to see the handwriting.
This one was dated October the first of 1871. It was a mere three weeks before the newspaper had reported on the death Lina’s father.
She pulled the letter out of the wardrobe and drew the lamp closer to make out more of the words. It was addressed to Hawk and consisted of only two short paragraphs. The very first sentence mentioned her father by name. Lina shivered, though the room was far from cold. Was this what she’d been searching for?
Note the possibility of Joseph Grayson & men in Sangre de Cristos & San Luis Valley area. Wanted for multiple robberies of Colo. & N.M. RR, overland stage, &etc. Last—
“Get on home, Butler, lest I feel the need to put you up in a cell for the night.” Deputy Garland’s voice came from what felt like was right over Lina’s shoulder.
She jerked her head so fast, her neck pinched. He wasn’t in the office, of course, but he had to be immediately outside. Lina glanced at the letter, her hand trembling so much it was hard to make out the words. She skimmed the remainder as fast as possible, her eyes catching the words,Last seen in Mad Dog Gulch, before extinguishing the lamp, shoving the paper back into the wardrobe and quickly shutting the door. The creak this time seemed to reverberate through the room, or so Lina thought.
Hawk’s keys. Where had she left them? The desk. There was no time to return the lamp to the front of the room. She left it on the desk and ran her hand over the wood until she found Hawk’s keys. Just at that moment, the sound of another key turning into the lock at the front door rushed at her ears. Had she locked it? Lina prayed she had, or it wouldn’t take long for Deputy Garland to discover something was amiss.
Keys in her hand, Lina bolted across the room. She couldn’t leave by the rear door, or she’d risk Hawk seeing her from the house. With the deputy about to step through the front door at any moment, that left one possibility—the jail.
Praying to the Almighty Lord as she never had before, even as she’d journeyed west on the stage to meet an unknown groom, Lina tried one of Hawk’s keys into the door. It didn’t fit. The jiggle of the key in the lock up front had silenced. Deputy Garland would open that door at any moment, and here she’d be, caught like a fox in a henhouse with a stolen key in the lock to town’s jail.
What would Deputy Garland think then? What would Hawk think?
A healthy dose of shame flooded the fear that coursed through Lina’s veins as she fit another key into the lock with shaky fingers. The door clicked open, and she slid through just as the front door opened. She forced herself to shut the door slowly even as Mr. Turley called out, “Hello there?” in a sleepy voice from his cell.
Lina covered the gasp that emerged from her mouth just as the deputy called out, “Just Garland. You need anything, Turley?”
Lina slid silently down the line of cells in the pitch blackness of the room. The bars beneath her fingers were her only guideposts.
“Nah, lest you gonna get me out of here,” the man called back to Deputy Garland.
Lina could hear the deputy’s laugh in response as the line of bars ended. Had she reached the end of the room? Her heel silently stuck something behind her as she felt her way around the bars to where they ended. This must be the rear of the room. Hands moving from bar to bar down the side of the last cell, she finally reached the wall. She’d wait here until the deputy left. If he felt the need to enter this room, she could duck down and crouch against the wall, hopefully hidden in the shadows far from any light the lamp might cast.
