Douglas turned around and nodded to the woman. "I'm sorry I disturbed you and your husband," he began.
Trudy laid the gun on the desk and rushed forward to shake Douglas 's hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman her size, for the top of her head barely reached his shoulders.
"The doctor and I were praying for a miracle. Looks like we might have gotten one. I know you aren't Marshal Ryan. You're big like we were told he was, but you don't have yellow hair and blue eyes, and our preacher gave us a good description of the lawman so we'd recognize him if he came into town. We pray every Sunday that the dear man will hear of our troubles and come here. Could you be a friend of the marshal's? Did he send you here?"
"No, ma'am, he didn't send me here."
She couldn't hide her disappointment. "But you're still going to help our little girl?"
Douglas smiled. The Simpsons' affection for Isabel pleased him. God only knew, she needed good friends now, and it was nice to know she had two champions in Sweet Creek trying to look out for her. "Yes, I'm going to help her." She squeezed his hand before she let go. "Doctor, I expect I'll go into the kitchen now." She waited until her husband nodded agreement before she looked at Douglas again. "You won't be leaving until I've packed some leftovers for you to take."
"You'll have to work in the dark, Trudy," her husband told her.
"I expect I'll manage. I'll light a candle and put it in the hallway. No one can see inside, doctor."
"Ma'am, I really should be heading back to Isabel." She shook her head at him and left the library in a near run.
Simpson chuckled. "You might as well relax, son. Trudy isn't going to let you leave without a bag full of her home cooking. Sit on down in a chair, proper like, and tell me why your brothers have been searching for the Texan. Do you have troubles where you come from that need the law?"
"No," Douglas answered. "Ryan helped one of my brothers. The fact is, he saved Travis's life."
"So you're wanting to thank him."
"Yes, but also get back a compass he… borrowed."
"Now, that sounds like a mighty curious tale."
"I'll tell you all about it some other time," Douglas promised. "When I was coming here, I noticed your town has a wire service, and I was wondering why you had to go to Liddyville to send your telegrams."
"The only way you could have seen the telegraph office is if you'd been inside the general store. It's in the back room. Why'd you go in there?"
"To get some supplies."
"Did anyone see you?"
"No."
"Good," Simpson whispered. "You broke in, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Did you snap the lock or break a window?"
Douglas was a bit insulted by the question. "No, of course not. Cooper won't know I was there unless he does a close inventory."
Simpson was grinning with pleasure. "I hope you robbed Vernon Cooper blind. His brother, Jasper, runs the wire office, and both the scoundrels are in Boyle's back pocket. No one in Sweet Creek dares send a wire from here unless they want Boyle to know about it, and that's why I used the wire service in Liddyville. Just on principle Trudy and I get all our supplies there too. We'd rather go without than give either one of the Coopers our hard-earned money."
"If Ryan were to show up and arrest Boyle, would the man whose hands were broken testify against him?"
Simpson shook his head. "I expect Ryan will have to find another way to get rid of Boyle," he said, "or run his henchmen out of town first. Wendell's too scared to testify. He's got a wife and two young daughters. He doesn't dare say a word against Boyle, or his family will pay the consequences. The poor man. He's got crops that will be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks, and with broken hands he's going to have to watch them rot."
"Won't some of the town help him?"
"They're afraid to do anything that might make Boyle mad."
"Why does he want Isabel's land?"
"He's telling everyone he wants to put his cattle there to graze. He has a lot of land surrounding his. ranch house, but he rents that out to some foreigners who buy cattle down in Texas and have them brought I up to his land to fatten up. Boyle's made a fortune over the last fifteen years, but he's greedy, and he wants more."
"If he wants to use Isabel's land, why doesn't he do it? She couldn't stop him, and he has to know that."
"He doesn't just want her land, son, he wants her too. He's real blatant about letting everyone know she's going to belong to him. Why, he struts around town like a fat rooster inviting people to the wedding. Folks say he started lusting after her the second he saw her."
"Why is he waiting? He could force her to marry him now."
"You don't understand Boyle the way I do. Pride's involved. He wants her to beg him to marry her, and he figures if he makes her desperate enough, she'll do just that."
"Did he kill her husband?"
"If the bullet hadn't gone through his back, I would have suspected Parker accidentally killed himself. I'm not speaking ill of the dead, you understand. I'm only stating facts, and the fact is that Isabel's husband was about as useful as a kettle with a hole in the bottom, The man had grand notions about all sorts of things. He treated Isabel good though, real good. And he was kind to crazy old Paddy, even though he knew Boyle would hear of it and be furious."
Douglas was intrigued. "Being kind to an old man infuriated Boyle?"
"It's perplexing, isn't it? Paddy came to Sweet Creek straight from Ireland and had lived here for as long as I could remember. Boyle came along about ten years ago and squatted on the land adjacent to where Isabel is living now. Within a year he started building himself a grand three-story house, and when it was finished, it was as fancy as any you'll see in the East, I'll wager you. He filled it with new furniture he had shipped from Europe and then had a big party the whole town was invited to so he could show off the palace. Even Paddy was invited, but something happened that night that started the feud between the two men. No one recollects seeing the two of them together during the shindig, but from that night on, Boyle tormented Paddy with a vengeance. Folks started calling the Irishman crazy then because no matter how often Boyle came after him, Paddy laughed about it. You know what that crazy man told me while I was patching him up one evening? He said he was going to have the last laugh. Can you imagine? The funny thing is, he did."
"How'd he do that?"
"Well now, I'm getting to that, son. Paddy was dying of consumption. He hung on until one Saturday night, because he knew that was when Boyle always went to the saloon to play cards. I happened to be there that night too, and I'll tell you it was the strangest dying I've ever seen. Paddy had dragged himself out of his sickbed, came into the saloon, and then laid down on the floor. He folded his hands together on top of his chest as though he was already in his coffin and announced he was going to die in a few minutes. That's when things turned mighty peculiar. Boyle knocked a chair over running to the old man. He knelt down beside him, waving me and everyone else away, and then he grabbed hold of Paddy's shirt and began to shake him, shouting, Tell me, old man. Tell me who it is.'"
"What happened then?" Douglas demanded to know, fascinated by the bizarre story.
"It got even more peculiar, son, that's what happened. Paddy gave Boyle a big toothless smile and whispered something only Boyle could hear. And then he laughed. As God is my witness, Paddy died laughing. Boyle went crazy. He started choking the dead man and screaming vile names at him. Two of his men had to pull him off the Irishman so the funeral cart could come and collect him, and I heard one of his men ask him why he hadn't killed Paddy years ago. Boyle was still reeling from whatever it was the Irishman had said to him, and all he would mutter was that he couldn't kill him without knowing. The following day Trudy and I went to say our good-bye to old Paddy, and I swear to you when I looked in that coffin, that crazy old man had a big smile on his face. Isn't that the darnedest story you ever heard?"