Silent Night Read online

“Well. All right. I did promise Bonnie I wouldn’t go chasing outlaws for a bit yet anyway.”

  “See? There you go,” Pierce said, nodding.

  “Let me go grab another beer and I’ll be back.”

  The bar was even more crowded than it had been previously, and Jacob had a difficult time getting Pete’s attention. By the time he had made it back to the table, his seat had been taken by Deputy Lowry. All the other men were deep in conversation.

  “Well now, Mr. Coleman,” Jacob said, standing over the table. “You only been in town a short while? What brings you to Tucson?”

  “You really hadn’t met him yet?” Pierce asked, surprised. “I thought for sure I told you about him. He came along as a second for me when I went after that road bandit a few weeks ago. He’s a great shot. Good man.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jacob said.

  Coleman took the cigarette out of his mouth and grinned at Jacob. He was missing one of his eyeteeth, the dark hole making his smile off balance. Nevertheless, he seemed nice enough, and though Jacob didn’t exactly love Pierce, he knew him to be a decent man who wouldn’t be associating with someone dangerous.

  Jacob wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Coleman had been watching him so closely that evening, but he supposed maybe it was his imagination. He looked back up across the room where Ed Hogg had been waving for his attention for the last ten minutes.

  “Well, Pierce, it’s been nice catching up, but I got a couple guys in the back there that have been trying to get my attention all night. Think I’ll go make an appearance.”

  Chapter Three

  Jacob woke up the next morning with a long list of things he needed to do. With Christmas a few days away, there was only so much time to get all the chores and errands done that needed doing. He had told his landlady that he’d take care of killing the goose for her, for example. That would be a project itself.

  And then after hearing the details about Ben Wilbourne’s arrest from Pierce, Jacob had a nagging feeling something was off about that. He couldn’t say what, but digging into that case a bit more got moved to the top of his list of things to do.

  He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that the marshal had everything under control and the boy surely could handle his self. But that persistent feeling of unease stuck with him all night. It distracted him enough during his poker game with Ed the night before, that his friend flat out refused to play with him anymore after taking too much of his money.

  And now, in the bright light of a December morning, Jacob knew he would need to at least go inquire about the boy or he’d never have any rest. He had plans to meet Bonnie for dinner, so wanted to get his own distractions taken care of before then.

  After knocking on the door to the marshal’s office, Jacob let himself in. He was surprised to see that the marshal was not alone this early in the morning.

  Pastor Ambrose’s face lit up at the sight of Jacob walking through the door.

  “Pastor,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “No, no, Payne,” the marshal said, standing to greet him. “Pastor Ambrose is here to talk to our prisoner. You’re not interrupting anything.”

  “Yes, I had heard something about that,” Jacob said. “Pierce told me.”

  Marshal Santos rolled his eyes as the pastor laughed.

  “I should have guessed. That man runs his mouth more than my wife does.”

  “Well, he’s only hurting himself, isn’t he?” the pastor pointed out. “Can’t be good for his business if he gets the reputation for being a talker.”

  “That’s true,” Jacob said. “That’s why I never say a dang thing.”

  This time the marshal laughed. “And that’s why you’re here, is it, Payne? To just stand quietly in the corner?”

  “All right. I get it. I’m guilty. I admit I have some questions for you.”

  “Of course. Let me just take the pastor here back and I’ll be right with you.”

  The two men left Jacob alone in the office as they headed back to where the small collection of jail cells waited. Listening hard, Jacob determined that the cells seemed to be mostly full. That made sense as it had been several weeks since the circuit judge had been around these parts. They were expecting him back any day, and all these prisoners would have to stand trial.

  Jacob was seated where the pastor had been, in the chair in front of the desk, when the marshal returned.

  “What can I do for you, Payne? I got a stack of wanted bulletins over there, but I thought you told me you weren’t interested till after the holidays.”

  “I did. I’m not. I just … Truthfully, Marshal, I’m not rightly sure what I’m doing here. I spoke to Clifford Pierce last night and he told me about a boy that has been arrested and something about his story didn’t sit right with me.”

  “A boy?” The marshal frowned. “Well, the youngest man I got in here is Benjamin Wilbourne who robbed the telegraph office. But he’s not any boy. He’s fifteen. That’s plenty old to be held accountable for his actions.”

  “You’re right. That’s true.” Jacob hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He had never directly challenged the marshal before.

  “So, tell me what Pierce said that’s got you so worried, then.”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “I understand that you found a button and a cigarette butt at the scene of the robbery.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And did anyone see Benjamin or … did you find the cash that he stole?”

  “Not yet. I aim to go over to the general store to look through his things later today.”

  Jacob hesitated only a moment before volunteering. “I’ll help, if you like.”

  The marshal narrowed his eyes at him, scrutinizing. “What’s your angle, Payne? I didn’t expect to see you at all for another week and now you’re volunteering to investigate a case that’s already solved?”

  “I just … Well, there’s something about all of this that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m worried that we may have the wrong man. Everything I know about Benjamin Wilbourne tells me he never would have done something like this.”

  “You don’t trust me, Payne?” the marshal said. While his words were simply inquiring, his tone was hard. Jacob could tell that he had struck a nerve in the other man.

  “It’s not that, Marshal. I mean no disrespect. Call it a gut feeling, if you want, but something about this doesn’t seem right. I hope I’m wrong. I hope it was just my bias against Pierce that makes me feel like he was spouting nonsense. But I can’t focus on anything else until I at least have a look.”

  The marshal clenched his jaw, and turned away. There were a few shelves lining the wall behind his desk, and Jacob watched him cross and pick up a small animal skull absentmindedly before setting it down again.

  “You know I ought to have you horse-whipped for even suggesting that the wrong man is behind bars, don’t you?”

  “I’m not doing that, Marshal. My apologies if it seems like—”

  “You are doing that. I’ve known you how long now? A year? In all that time, in all the men we’ve captured together, you’ve never once given me trouble. But now, you hear about the case secondhand and assume because you didn’t capture the man yourself that the wrong man is behind bars.”

  “Marshal, I swear—”

  “I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Payne. In all this time we’ve never once come close to disagreeing. But now you gotta pull this stunt right at the holidays.”

  Jacob kept his mouth shut this time; he had learned that there wasn’t any use arguing with the marshal. He could have Jacob thrown in one of those cells himself.

  The marshal sighed, still eyeing the bounty hunter critically.

  “I don’t like this. You know that. I don’t like it one bit, but … Well, I’d be a poor marshal if I didn’t trust the men I know to be good ones. I’m going to indulge you.”

  Jacob let out the breath he had bee
n holding. “Thank you.”

  “It might just be giving you enough rope to hang yourself, but …” He shrugged. “I believe that you want to be wrong and you’ll do the right thing. Just know”—he pointed his finger in Jacob’s face—“I don’t intend to help you a whit. This is your problem to solve, if in fact there is a problem.”

  “I understand. Can I talk to him?”

  “As soon as the pastor is done in there. Wilbourne asked for him as soon as I came in this morning. I’m hoping he’s making a confession we can use. The judge is supposed to be here soon and the more evidence I have to convict the better.”

  Jacob nodded. Just a couple days. That’s all the time he had to find out what he needed to find out. And a good chunk of that time was already spoken for; he wasn’t about to cancel plans with Bonnie Loft for a potential wild goose chase like this.

  “You won’t regret it, Marshal. I promise I just want to ease my own mind a bit. I expect to be wrong.”

  Marshal Santos snorted in disbelief. “When’s the last time you were wrong?”

  Chapter Four

  Fifteen minutes later, Marshal Owen Santos had escorted Jacob back to the jail cell of Benjamin Wilbourne and closed the door behind him. When the heavy metal latch snapped shut, Jacob took a deep breath and a long, focused look at the man sitting on the cot in front of him.

  Though Jacob knew Benjamin was perfectly capable and mature enough, he had a hard time looking at him and considering him a man. He had a round, baby-ish face, with no evidence of a razor having ever touched him. Though tall, Benjamin was thin as a rail. He didn’t seem particularly malnourished; it was more that his body seemed to go through all the food he could feed it. His muscles were still forming.

  Benjamin Wilbourne had all the evidence of a boy still about him, still growing, still trying to find his place in the world.

  “Hello,” Jacob said gently.

  The boy sat on the cot, feet pulled up with his arms wrapped around his knees.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  The boy shook his head. He had not taken his eyes off of Jacob since the latter entered the cell.

  “My name is Jacob Payne. I’m a bounty hunter. My job is to find the criminals who are wanted to meet justice for their crimes.”

  Benjamin blanched. Though obviously of a darker complexion than many of the other citizens of Tucson, his skin was a medium brown, and light enough that Jacob could notice him paling at the mention of being a criminal.

  “I’ve been told a little bit about why you’re in here. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Benjamin shook his head before burying his face in his arms.

  Jacob didn’t know what to do. Maybe this boy was guilty. Or maybe he was just scared.

  “Look …” Jacob said. He had been standing over the boy. “Can I sit?”

  Without looking at him, Benjamin scooted over to one side of the cot, leaving enough room for at least a foot of space between them.

  “Look,” Jacob said again. “I want to help you if I can. If you did this crime, I can see about getting you a lawyer for when the judge—”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  Jacob put his hand on the boy’s arm, prompting him to look up. “Tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

  At that, Benjamin’s eyes filled with tears. Jacob had never been comfortable at the sight of other men crying, but somehow this boy in his fear and his agitation was worse.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Jacob suggested. “How long have you been in Tucson?”

  Benjamin wiped away his tear, nodding and sitting up straight. “Okay. All right. You … You’re sure you can help me, sir?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Okay. I … I came out west with the Towers family when I was a real little kid. My family had all been owned by their family for years and years, but after the war …”

  “It’s okay,” Jacob said gently. “You can tell me. No one is going to get in trouble.”

  “My family,” he began quietly. “They all just … My pa escaped to fight for the north and my ma died and my brothers all … they were just gone. Some sold, some escaped, some … failed at escaping, I think. I never did find out what happened to them. I was maybe ten or so when we was freed, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. I suppose I could leave now, but I was too scared then. I been with the Towers family my whole life. They gave me a place.”

  “I’m sure you all did what you thought best.” Jacob tried to reassure him. “No point in wishing for a different outcome now.”

  He nodded. “Ever since we got out here I’ve been trying to do my share. There’s always plenty of work to do around here, especially when the kids went off to school. I was the only extra pair of hands for Mr. Towers as we were building the store and getting it going. I remember entire days spent outdoors, swinging that hammer when we first got here.”

  He trailed off, as though he were miles and years away in his memory. Jacob didn’t want to interrupt him, afraid to derail what might be a confession of guilt.

  After a moment, Benjamin began again. “I know they’re not really my family. I’m not stupid. I know that they were just being good Christians by taking care of a little orphaned, homeless black boy and that I could be thrown out on my own at any time.

  “I guess that’s what happened now, isn’t it? I should have expected it. I should have prepared better for this possibility.”

  “What would you be doing now if you weren’t in this prison cell?”

  “Lots of things. I’m fifteen. Lots of boys my age go out on their own, don’t they? I’ve been loyal to the Towers family, but I could be making my own way soon. Mr. Towers didn’t pay me a salary, but … I could have been saving all the gifts and tips that I’ve gotten over the years, to be more ready.”

  “You don’t have any money at all?” Jacob watched him carefully for evidence of hiding or lying.

  “I think maybe three or four dollars.” He looked up at Jacob for validation of some kind.

  Jacob weighed his next words carefully. “You know why you’re in here, Benjamin?”

  “Yes, sir. I do. I know that …” He paused and collected himself. “The marshal tells me that I was seen leaving the telegraph office by a lady who has a store nearby and that some money was stole from there. But, I didn’t do it. I didn’t take anything. I was there—I was dropping off an order from the store for Mr. Wood to take home to his wife. But I didn’t take anything. I’m not a thief, sir. I would never do that.”

  “It’s not just that you were seen, Benjamin. It’s that they found a couple things in the office that point to you.”

  The boy frowned, puzzled.

  “The marshal didn’t tell you about this?” Jacob asked.

  “Huh-uh. No, sir. No, I didn’t hear nothing about anything they found. What could it be? I don’t have anything.”

  Jacob narrowed his eyes, watching him. “Well, you have something. You have the clothes on your back. You have the food that Mr. Towers gives you. Do you smoke, by chance? Do you play cards? Ride a horse? Benjamin, in the eyes of the law … anything you touch has the potential to be a piece of evidence leading back to you. You don’t have to be a rich rancher to have enough to be a clue.”

  “But— But, I didn’t do it, sir.”

  He sounded desperate now. Jacob wondered how the conversation with Pastor Ambrose had gone. This boy seemed to be defiant about his situation.

  “Well …” He took a deep breath. Jacob had to weigh his conscience—going against what the marshal had said and done, versus doing what he could to find out the truth for this boy. The bounty hunter had met plenty of hardened criminals, he had seen dozens, if not hundreds of men lying and obfuscating and doing everything they could to avoid having to meet their justice.

  Benjamin Wilbourne didn’t display any of those signals that Jacob was used to looking for.

&nbs
p; “Look at me.”

  The kid pulled his head up reluctantly from where it had been resting between his knees. He looked at Jacob, but cautiously, timidly, like a dog that had been beat one too many times and didn’t really believe that he was free of that trap.

  “Benjamin, I want to believe you,” Jacob said finally. “I’m going to try to believe you, and I’m going to look for the evidence that could possibly get you out of here.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up, but Jacob felt compelled to quench them immediately.

  “I’m not promising anything. You have to understand that. You’ll stay in this cell until I can find the real guilty party or until the judge comes to Tucson and pronounces sentence. I may fail, but I want you to know that I’ll try.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he whispered.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Jacob said. “Now, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me everything you did on that day. Everyone you spoke to, everyone you saw, everything you touched. Even if you think it’s unimportant, you need to tell me.”

  Benjamin nodded, and began.

  Chapter Five

  Jacob left the cell after more than an hour of talking over the entire case with Benjamin. The poor kid knew almost nothing about the actual details of his own case. He had to call for Marshal Santos to let him out, which meant also suffering under the other man’s glares and muttering under his breath.

  When they got back out to the office, Jacob tried to smooth things over.

  “Marshal, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t, Jacob.” He held up a hand to forestall any protests as he collapsed into his office chair. “I already told you. I trust you. I’m not happy about this, but I trust your instinct and as long as you don’t interfere with what I already have going on I’m not going to stop you doing a little poking around on your own.”

  “Thank you.” Jacob sat in the chair across from the marshal’s desk.

  “But you need to know what you’re up against. If the judge finds him guilty, Benjamin could be put to death.”