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Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Prologue

Clarkston, Nebraska - 1882

The biting January wind swirled around the barn and stung Gary Tyler's cheeks, bringing tears to his eyes. He'd been chopping wood since early morning, and as the ax dropped from his hands, he realized how his fingers had stiffened in the cold. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he blew on them in an attempt to coax warmth back into his extremities. Until now, he hadn't felt the cold, which had begun settling into his bones.

After today, he wouldn't have to chop wood or do chores. Early tomorrow morning, he would board the train for St. Louis and begin his new life.

When he completed the eighth grade last spring, his teacher, Mr. Sage, said he wanted to arrange for him to take several exams to get into a school in St. Louis. He didn't give it much thought over the summer. He had too many things to do on the farm. For the first time, he had crops that needed to be planted and fields to tend.

Before, there had been his brothers to help him, but one by one his father had taken them away. At first, Ma said Pa was taking the boys to work on a large ranch in Texas to earn their keep. It didn't take long for the rumors to make it to Clarkston. It seemed as though everyone was talking about Caleb Tyler, the outlaw, the man who formed his sons into a gang of ruthless killers and bank robbers.

It won't happen to me. Pa ain't due to come home for another month. By then I'll be far way and I won't come back until I'm grown up enough to take Ma and Jesse away from here.

He wondered what his future would hold. Anything was possible. He could become a doctor, lawyer or even a politician. The thought of doing the latter made him laugh to himself. Who would ever vote for a politician named Tyler? Who would put their trust in me, knowin' Pa's reputation?

Without giving the future further thought, he loaded his arms with wood and started toward the house. As he did, he noticed a rider on the horizon. He inhaled quickly, recognizing the horse if not the man. His father always rode a beautiful black stallion. Following the horse and rider, he noticed a riderless pinto. His stomach ached. His heart skipped a beat. All thoughts of his bright future disappeared from his mind.

He pushed open the door and piled the wood in the box next to the stove. "Pa's home," he said, noticing the look of fear in his mother's eyes.

"It can't be. It's too early. Quick, run out the back. I'll tell him you already left for St. Louis," she pleaded.

"It's too late, Ma. He's already seen me."

Laura Tyler embraced Gary and he could feel her tears against his cheek. "I'm sorry, so very sorry."

Before she could say more, Caleb flung open the door with a bang.

"Come and give me a kiss, Laura," he demanded.

Gary watched his mother move slowly to his father's side and give him a peck on the cheek.

"What kind of a kiss is that? I've been gone almost a year. I want a real kiss," Caleb said, as he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his before she could protest.

His mother's struggle to get free made Gary sick to his stomach. "Let her go," he shouted, fearing his pa would hit her as he'd seen happen so many times before.

Caleb released Laura and stared at Gary. "I didn't come back here to take none of your sass, boy. I've come to get you and I can see I ain't come too soon."

"I ain't goin'," Gary declared, knowing his words were meaningless.

"What did you say, boy?" With the question, Caleb grabbed Gary's shirt and pulled him so close, Gary could smell his father's whiskey and cigar tainted breath.

"I said I ain't goin' with you. You've got the other four. You don't need me. I'm leavin' in the mornin'."

"You're leavin' all right, but not in the mornin'. Once your ma feeds us supper, we're goin' tonight. As for the others there's only three."

"Three?" Laura gasped, before Gary could reply. "One of my boys is..."

"Yeah, Ed got himself killed."

Laura covered her face with her worn apron and began to sob. As she did, Gary remembered the whispered conversation he knew he hadn't been meant to hear at the general store. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but he certainly couldn't deny it in light of his father's words. He now had to come to grips with the truth his brother was dead.

"How?" he heard his mother ask.

"He got bit by a rattler, nothin' we could do."

"He got bit by a rattler, all right," Gary spat. "The rattler was you, Pa! He got shot when you were robbin' a bank in Oklahoma Territory. I'll bet you don't even know how many other people died with him, do you?"

Gary's anger blinded him to Caleb's retaliation. The blow knocked him to the floor. As he picked himself up, he could feel something warm and sticky running down his upper lip. Wiping away the blood, he scrambled to his feet, his mother's soft sobs tearing him apart.

"What's the matter, Pa, can't you stand to hear the truth?"

Caleb's nostrils flared. "You callin' me a liar, boy? What gives you the right to talk back to me?"

"The stories I hear about you every time I go to town gives me the right. Ma doesn't go anymore, because she can't stand the looks people give her. I've known about Ed for months, but I didn't tell Ma 'cause I didn't want to hurt her."

"Hurt her!" Caleb echoed. "She's a woman, it's time you learned a few things. Women are good for only one thing and it ain't got nothing to do with their feelings."

"Stop it, Caleb," Laura whimpered. "Gary has a chance for a future and not with you. I know he's thirteen, same as the others when you took them, but he's different from them. Gary's smart, even the teacher in town says so. He's leavin tomorrow for..."

"I told you before, he ain't goin' nowhere but with me."

"He has such a wonderful opportunity, you can't take it away from him. He's earned the chance to go away to school to study."

"He ain't goin' to no school."

"I want to go, Pa," Gary said. "I want to make something of myself."

"Make something of yourself? You're a Tyler, boy. Don't that mean nothin' to you? Tylers don't get their learnin' from books. They get it from life. You're gonna learn life. Like it or not, you're comin' with me. We're leavin' as soon as your ma and me have a little talk and she rustles up somethin' for me to eat, so get used to the idea. Now, go out and tend the horses. Your ma and me have some things to talk about, so don't come back 'til we call you."

"Do what he says, Gary," Laura advised, her voice laced with tears. "Just do what he says. Jesse will be home soon. Watch for her."

"Yes, Ma," Gary replied.

"Bring in my bedroll, boy," Caleb barked.

"Bring it in yourself," Gary called over his shoulder.

"At least you respect your ma, boy. Too bad you don't respect me the same way. 'Course, you'll learn, mark my words, you'll learn."

"Ain't nothin to learn, Pa. As far as I can see, there's nothin' to respect, either."

"Maybe your lessons should start right now," Caleb shouted.

Gary ducked out of the way of his father's swinging fist and hurried out the door. Before he could close it securely, he heard the angry tone of his parents' voices as they began to argue. He wished he could defend his mother, but he knew himself to be no match for his father. Wiping tears of shame from his eyes with the back of his hand, he made his way to the horses.

Hearing footsteps, he hurried to waylay his sister before she got to the house. "Jes," he called and motioned for her to follow him to the barn.

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be packin'?" she inquired.

"I ain't goin' to St. Louis."

"Don't be silly. Of course you're going."

Gary shook his head. "Pa's here. He's takin' me with him tonight."

"He can't!" Jesse exclaimed. "Why don't you run away?"

"Now you sound like Ma," he declared, hugging her tightly. "I've been a fool to think I could get away from him. I'm no different from the others."

"You are different! I know you are. Oh, Gary, if Pa takes you with him, I may never see you again."

"Get in here, boy!" Caleb shouted before Gary could reassure Jesse.

The unexpected interruption caused Jesse to jump. "Don't go, Gary," she pleaded.

Gary looked at his sister, as if for the first time. When had she ceased to be a little girl, his pesky little sister? At the age of twelve, she would soon be a young woman, a beautiful young woman.

"We have to go, Jes. Don't worry I won't let him hurt you. If I could, I'd never let anyone hurt you, ever." He put his arm around her shoulder and opened the door, allowing the cold wind to bite at their cheeks.

"What took you so long?" Caleb snapped, as soon as they entered the kitchen. "You'd best learn to come when I call you."

Caleb cuffed Gary's ear as he walked past. Gary's hand went swiftly to his injured ear. As he rubbed the painful area, he saw Caleb grab Jesse's arm and pull her to him.

"Jesse Girl, come and give your pa a kiss," Caleb demanded.

"Don't Pa," Jesse cried, trying to pull away from his grip.

"Are you talkin' back to me, Girl?" Caleb shouted, raising his hand to strike her.

Without regard for his own safety, Gary rose to his feet and grabbed his father's hand. "Leave her be, Pa. I can't stop you from hittin' me, but I won't let you hurt her."

Caleb's cold eyes radiated pure hatred. He released Jesse before he began to laugh. "It looks like you might have some spunk after all, boy. Now go get your things. Soon as we eat, we're leavin'."

Caleb turned his attention from Gary to Jesse. "Your ma ain't feelin' too good, Jesse Girl. You'd best start fixin' supper."

Gary looked at his mother and knew Caleb had beaten her again. Before they left, Caleb would probably find cause to beat Jesse as well. He knew he had to get his things, had to go with his pa, but he vowed he'd never become like his brothers.

Chapter One

Loveland, Missouri - 1887

Clara Otto finished the dishes and went into the parlor to sit down and wait for her grandfather to come in from milking. She picked up her knitting and began work on the socks she started several days earlier. Over the years, their family had dwindled, until now only she and the old man remained. Her mother died giving her life and her grandmother passed on six years later. She barely turned ten when her father died after a fall from the barn where he was replacing the roof.

She looked down at the needles in her hands and realized she'd dropped a stitch. Deftly she worked at replacing the stitch to the needle when she heard the kitchen door open.

Setting aside her knitting, Clara prepared for the confrontation she knew would happen when her grandfather sat down to relax before going to bed.

As they were finishing supper, he'd mentioned going to town in the morning for a trial. Clara knew what trial would be held in the morning. For the first time in her life, she disagreed with her grandfather's commitment to seeing justice done.

"You look tired, Grandfather," she said, when he sat down in the chair opposite her.

"Do I, or are you trying to avoid what is laying so heavily on your mind?"

Clara sighed deeply. "You gave me no chance to say anything about tomorrow at supper. How can you consider going into town to observe the trial of a murderer? He's a Tyler, Grandfather. He doesn't deserve a trial!"

"How can you say such a thing, Clara? Everyone deserves a trial. In the eyes of the law he must be considered innocent until proven guilty."

"What about the innocent people the Tylers have killed? Would they insist on a fair trial?"

"They would if..."

"If what? If they met this man? They already met him and they died."

Clara watched as her grandfather got up from his chair and took her hands in his.

"Dear, dear Clara. Over the years I have attended the trials, as have you, to make certain justice is done. As an elder of the church, I feel it is my duty."

"It is your duty when the trial is for the people in town, people who are basically good."

"I see no difference this time. John McPhearson tells me the girl they've befriended, Jesse Tyler, says her brother, Gary, never killed anyone. If he believes her, why shouldn't we?"

Clara shook her head. She would never be able to change her grandfather's mind. Perhaps she didn't want to change it. At times like these, she envied his unquestioning faith, his desire to see the best in everyone.

Less than two weeks ago, the lives of everyone in and around Loveland were turned upside down. John and Brenna McPhearson had found a badly wounded girl, lying beside the road leading to town. When her identity turned out to be Jesse Tyler, everyone started looking over their shoulders, their nerves on edge.

Caleb Tyler and his gang of ruthless killers terrorized the small towns of Missouri, Kansas, Texas and Oklahoma Territory for as long as Clara could remember. Even the name 'Tyler' frightened her.

Everything she ever read or heard about the Tylers screamed of their guilt. They would ride into a town, rob the bank and ride out, leaving people dead and dying in their wake.

The girl was at the McPhearson farm less than a week before another Tyler came to town. Clara still cringed when she thought of Gary Tyler breaking into the McPhearson home to 'rescue' his sister from the law. If it hadn't been for Sheriff Martin, the entire McPhearson family might have been killed.

"You didn't answer me, Clara," her grandfather continued.

"I didn't answer, because I can't. I know it's my Christian duty to look for the best in people, but I can't see anything good in a Tyler."

Her grandfather pulled Clara to her feet and held her tightly. "Believe me, Clara, I understand your concern, but I also feel strongly about attending this trial. You must trust me. It is important for both of us to be among the spectators tomorrow."

Clara ceased her argument. She knew it would do no good. Her grandfather took his duties as church elder very seriously. For years he'd attended the trials in Loveland. For years, he'd taken Clara with him, carefully explaining the legal system to her.

In an attempt to avoid such a distasteful subject, she picked up her Bible and turned to Paul's letter to the Romans, to read the evening devotions. As she read the words of Romans 12:2, she wondered if anyone like Gary Tyler could ever believe in God and live by his words. He conformed himself to the world, certainly even God could find no good in him.

Long after her grandfather retired, Clara stayed downstairs, staring into the fire. She reread the newspaper articles about the Tyler gang. Each article described how the outlaws rode into small towns, leaving in a hail of bullets. Like so many others in the area, she read the stories reprinted in the local newspaper, since the capture of Gary Tyler. Each name was listed along with a description. There were also accounts of how three of them died.

Caleb Tyler's gang consisted of his sons, Frank, Ed, Will, Clay and Gary. With Ed killed at Stillwater in Oklahoma territory and Will and Clay in Slack Creek, Texas, Ruben Walden and Jeb Morris had joined the notorious gang.

The thought of a Tyler sitting in the Loveland jail, expecting a fair trail, infuriated her. She knew God expected her to be a good Christian and give the man a chance, but to her dismay, her mortal fears pulled her mind from what she knew to be her Christian duty.

Wearily, she got to her feet and climbed the stairs to go to bed. For the first time in her life, she wished someone other than her grandfather were the elder of the church who looked for the best in everyone.

Even sleep didn't ease her mind. Dreams of outlaws riding into Loveland and bringing death and devastation with them left her restless throughout most of the night.

Chapter Two

"Gary Tyler, you're under arrest," Sheriff Russ Martin's voice echoed in Gary's mind, as he paced the confined area of his cell.

Over the past seven years, he often thought about the end of his life, but he never envisioned himself in jail.

"In the end we all die, Gary," he could hear his father saying. "You'll either die from a bullet or a rope. Unfortunately, you won't get your choice."

Choice? I never considered having a choice. I always knew I'd die in some cattle town and be buried in an unmarked grave on boot hill. I never thought I'd face a hangman.

He let his mind wander back to the night his sister, Jesse, left the gang and rode to freedom. How he envied her courage. He remembered the nights he lay awake, planning his own escape. By the light of day, his plans always vanished and he stayed until he'd gotten in so deep he couldn't get out.

"Get up, Gary, we've got to leave!" he could hear his father shout. "Jesse Girl is gone. We gotta get out of here before she sets the law on us."

In his mind's eye, he saw himself riding through the night and into the next day. Although fatigue attacked his body, the thought of Jesse riding free refreshed him.

"Of course she's dead," he could hear Jeb Morris, say. "I didn't go down and pump her full of lead, but I hit what I shoot at. I ain't like Gary, I ain't afraid to pull the trigger."

The thought of Jesse being dead still turned his stomach. He had only to close his eyes to see her lying on some lonely trail with no one to care.

He shook his head to rid himself of the vision. Jesse wasn't dead. She survived Jeb's bullet and was taken to a farm just outside this sleepy Missouri town. Why hadn't he let her stay there? Why hadn't he just ridden out to start a new life of his own? If he hadn't gone to see her, he wouldn't be in this cell facing the trial set for tomorrow morning.

"Can I come in for a while?"

Gary turned at the sound of David Long's voice. The sheer bulk of the man still amazed Gary. Jesse had described this man, their Aunt Hattie's husband, as a warm and loving lawyer turned minister, who fostered her when their mother died. She certainly hadn't prepared him for this monster of a man who looked like a black smith, whose voice, like his bulk, filled the cell.

"Suit yourself," Gary said, purposely turning his attention to the barred window. Hearing the key turn in the lock to open the door sickened him.

"I thought you might like to hear some words of comfort," David began, as he closed the door of the cell behind himself.

Gary didn't answer. Outside the window he could see several men standing in the street, their faces illuminated by the torches they carried.

"The Lord is my shepherd," David's voice boomed.

Gary tried not to listen, tried to concentrate on the men outside.

"That's him," someone shouted. "That's the dirty stinking murderer. Hang him!"

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," David continued.

"Stop it!" Gary shouted, turning to face David. "Don't you understand, your words, like theirs are meaningless to me?" He pointed to the cell window and the men on the street, to emphasize his point.

"Meaningless? These are the words of God, not the ramblings of a mob. God loves you, Gary. If He didn't I wouldn't have kept up with the law, I wouldn't have the skills to defend you."

"I don't remember asking you to defend me. Why should you waste your time?"

Gary turned back to the window and grasped the bars. "Why don't you come and hang me?" he shouted to the mob. "Hang me tonight, and save everyone the agony of tomorrow!"

From the darkness, someone hurled a rock, which hit Gary in the temple. The impact of the blow stunned him. As if in a daze, he put his hand to his head and staggered slightly. From behind him, he could hear David call for the sheriff before he felt David's hand on his shoulders, guiding him to the bunk.

"Lie still," David ordered. "You've got a nasty cut. We'll get the doctor to take care of you."

"I've had worse mosquito bites," Gary protested, trying to get up.

David's big hand on his shoulder pushed him easily back. "Just lie still."

"Rather than worry about a little cut on my head, you should let them hang me and get it over with."

The cell door opened and Sheriff Martin entered with an older man.

"I'm Dr. Page, Gary," the stranger began. "I've been caring for your sister. Now, let me take a look at your head."

"Don't waste your time, Doc. When this trial is over I won't have to worry about a little scratch on my head."

Dr. Page ignored Gary's protests and began to cleanse the wound. Gary winced slightly as the man began to stitch up the cut. Each time the needle pierced his skin, Gary thought of the number of times Frank or Jesse dug a bullet from his body. Dr. Page's touch reminded him of Jesse's loving hands, rather than Frank's rough manner.

"I want you to take this sleeping powder. It will help you rest," Dr. Page said, when he finished.

"No," Gary replied. "I don't have much time left on this earth. I'd just as soon not spend any of it in a drugged sleep."

Dr. Page nodded, then got to his feet to leave. As he left, Gary heard his comment to David. "He's an angry young man."

I have every right to be angry. Caleb took my future. Now finding Jesse will cost me my life.

* * *

Gary awoke. His head ached and he tried to orient himself to his surroundings. As he did, the events of the night before flooded his mind.

Carefully he got to his feet. He remembered the deputy nailing a board over the window. He knew the man did it to avoid further attacks from the mob in the street.

He made his way to the boarded over window and pulled away the covering. Today, of all days, he wanted to see the sun, enjoy the blue of the sky.

To his dismay, gray wisps of fog shrouded the area. It's not a good sign. I've lived most of my life under the blue sky. Why must I end my life unable to see it?

"I didn't expect you to be up so early," Sheriff Martin said, interrupting Gary's thoughts.

"Couldn't sleep. I'll have a long time to sleep after the trial. You should have let them end it last night."

"I couldn't let you get lynched by a mob. Even you deserve a trial."

"Don't know why," Gary said, turning back to stare out the barred window into the fog.

"Because I believe your sister, you don't deserve to die. I saw your brother, Clay, before they hanged him. He said the same thing. Can you honestly tell me you want to die?"

"Of course I don't," Gary flared. "I'd like to walk out of here a free man, but it ain't gonna happen. I'm a Tyler. No matter what I've done, what I haven't done, those people out there want to see me hang."

Gary listened as Russ left the cell. Once he was alone he sat back down on the cot. Again he wondered why he hadn't just ridden away once he knew Jesse hadn't died. He knew the answer. Knowing Jeb shot her, yet not knowing how badly he wounded her would have haunted him all the rest of his life. He'd looked out for her too long to just ride away.

"I brought you some water and a razor," Russ said, when he returned.

Gary took the basin and the sharpened razor. "You gonna stand there and watch me?"

"I have to," Russ replied.

"I ain't gonna use this to kill myself," Gary said, holding up the razor.

"Didn't say you would. I make it a rule to stay here while a prisoner shaves."

Gary ignored Russ, as he took off his shirt and began to wash up. He hated being watched, hated being the object of unwanted attention.

"I'll need a mirror," he said, as he lathered up his face.

Russ nodded, then picked up the razor and left the. When he returned, he placed a small shaving mirror, along with the razor on the table beside the water basin.

Beneath Gary's hands, he could feel the soft bristles of his full beard. It took less than two weeks for him to achieve the growth. It was the main reason Caleb usually sent him into small towns to check out their banks. It took him a very short time to be able to disguise his appearance. His dark features and heavy beard made him like Frank and Caleb. Ed, Will and Clay more closely resembled their mother and Jesse with red hair and green eyes. Their lighter feathers and light facial hair made them too easy to spot.

As he scraped off the whiskers, he could see the familiar lines of his face reappear. He wondered when he started to look so old. Had it been when Caleb took him away? When Jesse joined them? When Clay and Will were killed? When he thought Jeb killed Jesse? None of his questions had clear answers.

He splashed his beard-free face with water and dried it with the towel Russ gave him. He admitted he enjoyed being clean-shaven.

"David bought these for you," Russ said, handing him a new pair of pants and a shirt.

Gary ran his hands over the stiff fibers of the new clothes. "Been a spell since I've had new clothes," he commented. "Caleb never wanted to spend the money. Most of our clothes were stolen off clotheslines as we rode through the countryside."

Russ made no comment, so Gary continued. "Do you think Jesse will be there?"

"David says she will."

"I wish she wasn't coming. I'm afraid she ain't strong enough to handle it."

"She'll do what she has to do. From what I can see, she has strong feelings for you."

Gary didn't reply. He knew all about Jesse's feelings. They were always close, always told each other everything, at least until this summer. He'd spent the past six months trying to decide how to tell her about Caleb's plans to take her to Isabella's. All summer she'd worried about being Ruben's woman, when in reality, she would be everyone's woman at the bordello.

He allowed his mind to wander back to the April morning when Caleb took him to Isabella's with the promise of a hot bath. He knew what Caleb meant for him to do there. He'd kissed the serving girls at the Mendoza hacienda before, but he kept himself from going any further. The girl who came to scrub his back was beautiful, but he didn't want his first time to be with a paid companion, a whore.

To his surprise, the girl insisted they go back to her room to talk. He listened, unable to believe his ears, as she told him Isabella had been trying to get Caleb to bring Jesse to the bordello to work for the past two years. He finally agreed to her proposition, and promised to bring Jesse in when they returned for the winter.

"I'll bring you some breakfast," Russ said, when he took the razor and basin out of the cell.

Gary didn't reply. The last thing he wanted was food. His stomach churned and threatened to rebel if he ate anything.

When Russ returned, the smell of bacon and eggs reminded Gary he hadn't eaten anything since the night before. All thoughts of nausea disappeared as his appetite returned. Closing his eyes, he could see Jesse fixing breakfast over an open fire. He wished he could see her doing such an ordinary thing now.

Jeb's bullet hit her in the back. David told him she would recover, she would again be the Jesse he remembered, but he knew he would never live to see her walk.

He finished eating. Out of frustration he slammed his fist against the wall. The pleasant memory of Jesse doing everyday chores shattered, as he thought of her lying in the bed at the McPhearson farm. She'd looked so small, so pale, and so helpless. He only wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right.

"It's time to go," Russ said.

Gary looked up and saw Russ holding shackles and leg irons. "Are those necessary?"

"I'm afraid so. It's the rules, you know."

"Sure, I know." He cringed as the metal cuffs clanked into place. I have so few hours left on this earth. Why can't I spend them without this iron restricting my movements?

Awkwardly, Gary followed Russ from the cell. Outside the building, he saw three deputies waiting for him. Beyond them groups of men turned to stare, then shouted obscenities. In one sinking moment, he realized the shackles and guards were not meant to protect the good people of Loveland from Gary Tyler. They were meant to protect Gary Tyler from the good people of Loveland.

* * *

"Don't dally, Clara," her grandfather called. He held out his hand to assist her as she climbed into the carriage.

"You have something on your mind this morning," he continued, once she seated herself. "What is troubling you?"

"Today's trial," she confessed. "I still don't understand the need to treat this man with such respect. He isn't like the others we've seen tried in Loveland."

"Isn't he?"

"Of course not. He's a Tyler, Grandfather. Everyone knows what he's done, what he might have done if Russ hadn't captured him."

"No one can be considered guilty without a fair trail. Not even a man with the name of Tyler. I know what the newspapers, as well as the gossips, have said about him. We must hear the entire story before passing judgment."

Clara said no more. She knew it would do no good to argue with her grandfather when his tone became so firm. Instead, they rode in silence through the foggy morning, until they reached the outskirts of town.

The number of people gathered on the streets surprised Clara. She knew today's trial would be an important one, but she never expected so many interested spectators.

"I'll let you off here," her grandfather said, as he stopped the wagon in front of the saloon. "Wait for me while I take the horse and carriage to the livery for the day."

Clara climbed down from the carriage and hurried to meet her friends, Alys MacDonald and Suzanne Waller, who stood just outside the door of the saloon.

"We wondered if you would be coming," Alys greeted her. "With the fog and all, we thought you might stay home."

"Not Grandfather," Clara commented, watching him as he drove away. "It would take a lot more than a little fog to keep him away from a trial."

"I heard they're planning to build the gallows at the end of Main Street," Suzanne related, obviously excited about the idea.

Clara could hardly believe her ears. "How can they be planning to build a gallows, when they haven't even held the trial?"

"You sound like your grandfather," Alys said. "With a Tyler, a trial is only a formality. My pa says if they don't find him guilty, it will be nothing short of a miracle. Everyone knows who the Tylers are and what they've done."

"I don't know," Clara replied, remembering her grandfather's statement about everyone being entitled to a fair trial. "Brenna says the girl is a good Christian."

"Good Christian, my foot. How can she be a good anything after riding with them?" Suzanne asked. "She's got the McPhearson's fooled. I hear she's even making eyes at Brian. My brother was in the saloon on Friday night and heard Quaid talking. He says Brian's gone sweet on her."

Clara's heart beat a little faster at the mention of Brian's name. For several years she prayed Brian McPhearson would notice she finally became a woman. To her dismay, he continued to treat her like a younger sister.

A commotion at the other end of the street caught their attention. Brian and his twin brother, Quaid, so identical Clara couldn't tell them apart at this distance, sat on the seat of their wagon. Between them, Clara saw a beautiful girl. It had to be Jesse Tyler.

"Why don't we just hang her right now?" a man carrying a crudely tied hangman's noose shouted. "I don't see why we ain't havin' two trials. She's as guilty as he is."

"Why can't you leave us alone?" the girl cried.

Clara cringed, as she saw one of the twins help the girl down from the wagon, while the other got down the chair. While one of them pushed the wheelchair through the crowd, the other pulled a rifle from the wagon bed. Beside him, his father also pulled a gun and both pointed them at the crowd.

* * *

Gary followed the sheriff across the street and into a back alley. Russ stopped in front of a closed door forcing Gary to wait until the older man produced a key to unlock it. With the door open, he motioned for Gary to go in ahead of him.

"Where are we?" Gary asked, once the door closed and locked behind him.

"Bill Trenton's office. He owns the saloon. It's secure. You'll be safe here."

From outside, Gary could hear the sound of angry voices, but he couldn't make out the words. Before he could think of something to say, the door leading to the barroom opened and David wheeled Jesse into the room.

Gary studied her face. The change in so few days pleased him. "I've never seen you look so pretty before, Jes."

"You've never seen me in a dress before and I've never seen you look so tired. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"A little, but it don't matter. You've been cryin'. What's wrong?"

David pulled Gary aside and spoke quietly. "Jesse got a taste of what last night was like for you. Several men came up to her and wanted to lynch her."

Gary knelt beside her chair. "I'm so sorry you're involved in this, Jes. Go back to the McPhearson's. You'll be safe there. I can't stand to have you here listening to what will be said today."

Jesse put her hand to his cheek. "Can't you see I have to stay? Whatever the outcome today, I have to be here."

Seeing the hurt in her eyes made him wonder about telling her of Caleb's plan for her.

"Uncle David told me what happened last night. Does it hurt much?" She put her hand to the bandage covering the stitches in his temple.

"Not much. Not as bad as when Frank cut out all those bullets."

Jesse lowered her eyes. "There's one question I have to ask, Gary. I need an answer."

"You can ask me anything. You know I'll give you an answer."

"The day I left, when I told you what I planned to do, you said something very strange. I need to know what you meant by it."

Gary relived the conversation. He'd seen her sitting on the rim of the canyon and gone to join her. While they talked she tiptoed around the subject of leaving. When he broached it to her, she turned from him, silent, as though afraid he would betray her to Caleb. Her silence and mistrust hurt. On an impulse, he decided to warn her. He now remembered his words. "If you're going, Jes, go now. Go tonight. Don't let anything stop you."

"Why did you insist I should leave?" she asked, dissolving his thoughts. Her eyes pleaded for an answer.

"You weren't going to be Ruben's woman when we got back to Mexico. Caleb made a deal with Isabella before we came north. You were going to her place to work for the winter."

When he finished, she looked at him, her expression denoted astonishment at what he told her. For a moment, she sat mute, as if trying to digest the words he'd just spoken. He ached as he saw the color drain from her face, only to return as shock began to sink in. "Say something, Jes, anything. Say you hate me for not tellin' you before. Just don't look at me like this."

"How could he plan to do something like that? How could he sell me off like he'd sell a horse? Wasn't it bad enough he hired me out to the Mendoza's, kept me as a slave when we went north in the summer? When did you plan to tell me? Were you just going to let it happen without giving me a chance to get away?"

Gary hung his head. "I tried to tell you the day you left. I did tell you to get away that night. Maybe I was wrong to send you out into the path of Jeb's bullet, but I did try. When you left, when I thought you were dead, it didn't matter anymore. Caleb couldn't sell you off, but I knew I would always live with the knowledge if I hadn't pushed you, you'd still be alive."

This time, it was Jesse who hung her head. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. You were only doing what you thought best. It doesn't matter what Caleb planned for me. None of it matters anymore. You see I don't need him. I have a Heavenly Father who will always love me. He'll love you, too, if you open your heart to Him. Trust me, Gary, for everything God has a reason. He didn't let Caleb sell me off. He won't take you away from me, either."

Gary looked first at Russ and then David. Russ looked a bit bewildered at her statement. Did he, like Gary, have a problem understanding such pure faith? As for David, his smile touched Gary. The man truly loved Jesse like a daughter. He would nurture her, as well as protect her. He wouldn't allow her to slip away from him, nor would he ever let anyone hurt her again.

They talked for several minutes before David interrupted them. "It's time to go in, Gary."

"I know," he replied, as he got to his feet. "I'm ready."

"I'm not," Jesse whispered.

Gary hated the sadness in her voice. He wished he could protect her from this as he so often protected her from the wrath of Caleb and Frank.

He put his hands on the handles of her chair. In doing so, memories of their childhood and his promise to protect her, flooded his mind. He stayed with Caleb by choice, she out of fear. He tolerated the lifestyle. She was repulsed by it. In the winters, while working for Senor Mendoza, he almost enjoyed it. Jesse despised every minute of it. He'd watched her go from a beautiful, frightened child, to a sullen, withdrawn woman and he disliked the transformation.

Chapter Three

"Clara," she turned at the sound of her grandfather's voice. "You should go in and get a seat. I won't be joining you. I've been asked to serve on the jury."

"The jury?" Clara repeated the statement as a question.

"They were having trouble getting twelve men to serve. I said I'd gladly help out."

"But, Grandfather..."

"Hush, Child. I'm only doing what I feel is right."

Clara nodded and watched as he turned and went to join the men who were gathered several feet away.

"What was that all about?" Alys asked, when Clara turned back to join her friends.

"They asked Grandfather to serve on the jury."

"Don't tell me he accepted," Suzanne gasped. "My pa said if they asked him, he'd say no. He says he wouldn't feel safe convicting Caleb Tyler's son."

Clara tensed at Suzanne's words. Would her grandfather be safe? For that matter, would she be safe if they hanged Gary Tyler in the morning?

She heard Alys say something about going in and hurried to follow her two friends. Inside the saloon, which today doubled as a courtroom, Clara found few empty chairs. It seemed as though everyone who lived within fifty miles had gathered to see this trial.

"Pa said he'd save us seats," Suzanne said, as she grabbed Clara's hand and pulled her toward the front of the crowded room. "Before I left, Ma said she would have no part of this. She decided she'd rather go shopping and meet us for dinner later. You can sit in her seat."

When they found their places, Clara could hardly believe they would be sitting in the second row. Immediately ahead of her, she saw the McPhearson family and an older woman with hair as red as that of the girl in the wheelchair.

All around her, Clara could hear angry voices. The overheard conversations all carried the same theme. Everyone wanted to see a hanging, with or without a trial.

Abruptly, all conversations ceased and everyone turned toward the door at the front of the room. Clara, too, watched as first Russ Martin, then a big man dressed in a light-colored suit with a bright blue shirt and tie, came into the room. Behind them a young man pushed the chair where the pretty redhead sat.

Clara concentrated on the young man. His hands and feet were shackled and he had a bandage on his forehead. Looking past those alarming features, she noted his dark hair and equally dark, brooding eyes. At the sight of him, her heart pounded a bit harder.

How can a total stranger, an outlaw, affect me so?

* * *

As Gary pushed the chair into the crowded room, through the open door, he caught a deep breath. The room was filled with dozens of people. Dozens of pairs of eyes all radiated hatred.

He concentrated on the woman who looked so much like his mother and Jesse, his Aunt Hattie. When this was all over, she would have to come to understand how misplaced her love and concern for him were. She would, she must, transfer her energies to Jesse. She and David would be able to help Jesse carry on and build a new life.

Behind his aunt, he saw three young ladies. They all appeared to be about the same age as Jesse. Two of them shared the contempt of the others in the room. The one in the middle drew his attention. Her eyes were soft and gray, almost like the fur of a field mouse, but nothing about her seemed mousy. Her features intrigued him. He chided himself, knowing he had no right to be intrigued. He took a moment to study her, to memorize her face. He looked at her hair and admired the color of it. It reminded him of wild honey and he wondered how it would look if it weren't coiled tightly around her head in it's neat braid. He could almost imagine the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her lips pressed against his.

He quickly shifted his gaze back to Jesse. He couldn't harbor such thoughts about a perfect stranger: not today, not ever. Come morning, he would have no more thoughts. By tomorrow night, he would lay forever in an unmarked grave on boot hill. These people would continue with their lives and Gary Tyler would become a memory, one to be pulled out to scare little children and otherwise forgotten.

"Jes," he whispered, as he pushed her chair up to the table where he would be sitting. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Jesse nodded and looked up at him. He wished he could dissolve the tears he saw in her eyes and take away the years of unhappiness and pain.

One by one, the prosecutor presented witnesses against Gary. One by one, David riddled their testimony with his questions.

At last, a portly man took the stand. When he said he came from Stillwater, in Oklahoma Territory, Gary listened more intently.

"Caleb Tyler and his gang of murderers rode into our town on June eighth, eight years ago. When they left, my bank teller, Ernst Wilcox and Sheriff Martin's wife were both dead. I thank God Sheriff Martin killed at least one of them."

Gary focused his attention on Russ. Jesse trusted the man, even asked Gary to trust him as well. He wondered about the man's intentions; now he understood. Russ told them he went to Slack Creek and talked to Clay. Now Gary understood why. The man went to see a Tyler hang. Hadn't it been enough for him to kill Ed? When would he taste enough Tyler blood? Would Gary's hanging satisfy the man or did he hunger for Jesse's blood as well?

Jesse tightened her grip on Gary's hand and he turned to look into her green eyes. He loved her more with each passing year and he grieved at the knowledge this lawman could hurt her, could so easily dismiss the trust she placed in him.

"How many Tylers rode into your town on June eighth, eight years ago?" David asked, his voice cutting into Gary's thoughts.

"There were five of them."

David turned his back on the man on the stand and addressed the jury. "Five men," he mused. "Eight years ago, they would have been Caleb, Frank, Ed, Will and Clay Tyler." He turned back to the man in the witness box. "You have no right to testify against Gary Tyler. He was but a youth of thirteen years of age, living in Clarkston, Nebraska. He wasn't in your town."

The next witnesses to take the stand came from towns and described events Gary actually remembered. They identified him as the masked one who came in with the others; the masked one who held them at gunpoint; the masked one who hadn't fired a shot.

"I'm the sheriff of Slack Creek, Texas," the man who took the stand next said. "I remember the day the Tylers rode in, as though it happened yesterday."

Gary studied the man, trying to remember his face, trying to forget what happened in Slack Creek.

"There was six of them on that day. I never heard about a sixth one, but I know what I saw. Caleb, Clay and Will came in first, then Frank with two of them wearing masks."

Gary relived the day in Slack Creek, as he knew Jesse did. In his head, he heard the gunfire and saw Will and Clay go down. He also heard his father shout to Frank to get Jesse out of the bank and shut her up. In his heart, he again felt the loss of his older brothers and the pain of the bullet that hit him in the side as they rode away.

The man stepped down and Gary wanted nothing more than to comfort Jesse as she sobbed softly. Instead he stared straight ahead, unable to show any emotions, even to Jesse who knew him so well.

Other men took the stand. Each described the Tyler gang as being comprised of Caleb, Frank and Gary Tyler as well as Jeb Morris and Ruben Walden. No mention was made of the sixth member of the gang, of Jesse. Like those who testified earlier, no one could remember Gary ever firing his gun.

Of course they can't remember me firing my gun, Gary thought. I never pulled the trigger. I'm a bank robber, not a murderer. When I hang, it will be for Caleb's crimes, not mine.

"I see it is noon," the judge said, getting to his feet. "I suggest we all have some dinner and begin again when we're refreshed."

Gary, like the others in the room, got to his feet. He didn't want to eat, he only wanted this day to end, but he knew Jesse needed the time to rest and prepare for the afternoon that lay ahead of them.

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