“You really believe he jumped off a freight train, Bill?”
That from the mayor, whom the sheriff again ignored. He said, “You could’ve broken your fool neck. Why didn’t you stay on the train and fight it out?”
Thatcher glanced around. All of them were poised, waiting for an answer. He addressed the sheriff. “I did.”
“Did what?”
“Fought it out.”
“Three against one?”
“Wasn’t my choice.”
The sheriff reached for his hand and turned it palm up. “How’d you get that cut?”
“One of the men came at me with a knife. I was defending myself.”
“Against Mrs. Driscoll,” the mayor said.
The sheriff didn’t acknowledge the remark. “Back there in your room, you came at us like a vandal.”
“I told you. I woke up with a shotgun to my head. I reacted.”
“Violently,” the mayor said.
The sheriff kept his attention on Thatcher. “Three against one. Five against one. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
“A bunkhouse.”
“He’s obviously a dangerous individual, Bill.”
“I’m not a danger to a woman,” Thatcher fired back at the mayor. “Sure as hell not one in the family way.”
The doctor choked back a sob and held his fist against his mouth to contain others.
Thatcher looked directly at the sheriff. “Look, hopping the freight? Guilty. I was just trying to get home, and the army didn’t pay me enough to get there. I wasn’t looking to fight the men on the train, but they would have killed me if I hadn’t fought back. Fought y’all because I’ve been to war and temporarily mistook you for the enemy.
“The last time I saw Mrs. Driscoll was midafternoon as she was bidding me goodbye. That’s the God’s truth. I would never raise a hand to a woman or harm one in any way if I could help it.”
He flashed to how he’d startled Laurel Plummer as she was hanging out her wash, but decided not to mention that encounter. Approaching two women who were strangers to him, on the same day, might compound their suspicions.
“What did you do after leaving the Driscolls’ house?” the sheriff asked.
Thatcher told him about renting the room, then seeking out Mr. Barker. “He hired me.”
“As a mechanic?”
“No. He’s paying me to train a horse.”
The mayor guffawed. “That horse in the paddock behind Barker’s place?”
“If you’re referring to a bay stallion, yes,” Thatcher said.
“He’s a brute, Bill. Others have tried. No one can get near him.”
“I can,” Thatcher said, still speaking directly to the sheriff and trying to ignore the butt-in. “That’ll be easy enough to check with Mr. Barker. By the time I left his place, the sun was going down. I stopped by a secondhand store he’d recommended, but it was closed. I got back to the boardinghouse a little before seven o’clock. After supper, I went out on the porch and sat for a spell. A dozen men can vouch for that.
“Mr. Henry Hobson would vouch for me, too. When I left for the army, the ranch didn’t have telephone service yet. It was out too far. They may have gotten it by now. If not, by hook or crook you could get word to Mr. Hobson.” As an afterthought, he added, “When you do, ask him to please send me my gear. It’s locked in a trunk in the bunkhouse. He’ll know.”