4 Lives by Jackson Lowry

Author:Jackson Lowry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, western, western american history, western anthology, romance 1870s, mystery action adventure, western colorado, mystery 19th century, adventure 1870s, western action adventure romance
Publisher: The Cenotaph Corporation

"That's my place."

"Doesn't look as down in the mouth as you said." Good saw how irrigation ditches had been dug to provide ample water to the field of beans.

"My wife and kids work like slaves. You know how that is. My Mellie was a slave in Alabama 'fore the war, 'fore Mr. Lincoln freed her. I fought for the Federals. I was at Fort Pillow. Got myself all shot up. It was Mellie what pieced me back together."

"Can't give you long. You go down on foot and don't try going into the house. You talk to your wife and children where I can see you. You try to duck inside or get a gun, I'll cut you down."

"Thank you."

Good fastened the outlaw's horse to a scrub oak working its way up through the rocky soil. He held the man's rifle on him, keeping him in his sights all the way down to the door. Thurlow stopped and knocked, waited and nothing more. No one came to answer. Good suspected the man's family was in the fields, though he saw no one out weeding or tending the plants.

Shoulders slumped, Thurlow trudged back up the slope. He stopped a few yards from Good and looked at him with desolation in his brown eyes.

"They wasn't there. Gone, maybe to Miz Flora's. Mellie's in a family way, and it must be her time."

"How old are your children?"

"Two boys, six and five. And little Abigail's the spittin' image of her ma. She's eight. She's a game one, but with her leg all twisted up, she ain't much help sometimes." Thurlow wiped his nose and said in a voice almost too low for Good to hear, "Truth is, she ain't good most of the time, laid up in bed in pain the way she is. It's a shame seein' a young girl so spindly in so much misery."

Good said nothing, studying the man with the slumped shoulders and head bowed. Thurlow straightened, wiped at his nose again and said, "Suppose it's time to go. To Denver."

"You ever shoot anyone?"

"What's that? No, all I ever shot was a rabbit for the stew pot. Mellie's a real good cook when she puts her mind to it."

Good touched the badge on his chest, gripped Thurlow's rifle a bit harder and then said, "If I forget I ever saw you, you give up on robbing stagecoaches?"

"I swear, I'll never do it again. Time's hard, but with Mellie and the new baby, I need to stay close to the farm." Thurlow half turned toward the farmhouse, then sagged. "I would, if I could."

Good came to a decision, and he knew Legrande wouldn't care for it. If anything, the marshal would rant and shout and carry on. It didn't matter, not if he did the right thing now.

"You get on back to your family."

"I swear, I won't rob another person as long as I live!"

Good snagged the reins of the man's horse and handed them to him. Thurlow's hand shook with emotion. He started to thank Good, but the deputy stepped up, turned his pony's face and trotted away.

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