Outlaw Mountain

Shimmering golden leaves captured the setting sun and reflected off the surface of a shallow pond as Joa

“I’m so glad you came right away, Sheriff Brady,” Father Thomas Mulligan said. “I’ve been quite concerned.”

“The sister who was left with him wasn’t hurt, was she?”

“No,” Father Mulligan said. “She bruised her elbow when he knocked her down, but other than that she’s fine.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the church. There are lots of lighted candles in the sanctuary, and he seems to like them.”

“Is it safe to leave him there alone?” Joa

“He isn’t alone. Brother Joseph is with him. Back when Brother Joseph was a high school gym teacher, he taught judo. According to him, judo is like riding a bike. You never forget the moves.”

Half-trotting to keep up with Father Mulligan’s long-legged stride, Joa

“Junior?” she said, holding out her hand.

Slowly he raised his eyes until he was staring up into her face. Politely, he held out his hand as well, but his grip barely clasped Joa

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Sheriff Brady.”

Without a word, Junior scooted sideways in the pew until he was huddled next to Brother Joseph. Then, burying his head in the priest’s robe, he began to moan. “Didn’t do it. Didn’t do it. Didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?” Joa

“Not bad,” Junior wailed, pressing even closer to the priest, who by then had wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders. “Junior not bad. No jail, please. No jail. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt Junior.”

Seeing that he was utterly terrified of her, Joa

He had stood there for a long time, and his silent staring presence had worried her. After all, he was wearing a badge and a holstered gun. Joa

Then a gray-haired woman had emerged from the beauty shop next door to the post office. The man had smiled at the woman, called her Mama, and pointed at the cookies, saying he wanted some. That was when Joa

From that long-ago memory came the seed of inspiration. “I’m not here to take you to jail,” Joa

Junior quieted and peeked up at her from behind Brother Joseph’s robe. “Play?” Junior asked.

“Yes,” Joa

“Would you like to put it on?” Joa

“Junior wear it?” he repeated wonderingly. “Me wear it?”

“Yes,” Joa

Junior nodded his head emphatically, eagerly. “Me wear. Me wear. Put on. Put on now.”

Carefully Joa

Both hands shot high in the air. “Do you swear to be a good deputy, Junior?” Joa

Junior’s face split into a wide smile and he jumped to his feet. “Me good,” he said. “Junior very good de-de-deputy.” It took several times before he could finally make his lips form the unfamiliar word. “Go now,” he added. “Go right now. Get in car.”

“Right,” Joa

Junior raced down the aisle, with Joa

“Desperation,” she told him. “Desperation plain and simple.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Between Saint David and Tombstone, Joa

What the hell have I let myself in for? Joa

So if jail and the hospital are both out of the question, what do 1 do with him? she asked herself. In the past she would have gone straight to Maria

That was as far as Joa

Joa

For D. H. Lathrop, people like Ed Scheiffelin epitomized the heroes of the Old West in a way the good guys and had guys-the Earps and the Clantons-did not. Lathrop had filled his daughter’s head with stories about Ed’s greedy partners who had done their best to cheat him out of what was rightfully his. Her mother had disparaged everything about Tombstone-the clapboard buildings, the phony gunfights, and the tacky tourist souvenirs. For Eleanor Lathrop the place was little more than a vulgar tourist trap-something to be despised and certainly not patronized.