Page 98 of Magnolia Summer

“I’m the sheriff and I’ll go wherever I want.” He roughly pushed Will and Celia aside, forcing his way into the room.

Suggs pointed his gun at Truett and moved closer. “It’s awfully late to still be in bed. I’m afraid you have sullied this young lady’s reputation.”

Celia ran and stood in front Truett, shielding him with her body. She’d die before she’d let that evil man hurt Truett.

“Get out of here.”

“I’m not finished, Missy.” Suggs growled and used the barrel of his rifle to tap Celia on the shoulder.

Truett placed his hands on her upper arms and gently moved her aside. “It’s all right, Celia.” He faced the sheriff. “What do you want, Suggs?”

The sheriff poked Truett in the ribs with the rifle barrel. “I want the hooded horseman. And I believe you’re him. Take your shirt off.”

“Excuse me, Sheriff, but that wouldn’t be appropriate in front of—”

“Take it off!” Suggs didn’t wait. He stepped forward, shifting his gun under his arm, and grabbed Truett’s shirt front in both hands. He ripped the shirt open, sending buttons flying in all directions.

The sheriff’s eyes fastened on the bandage around Truett’s middle. Blood had seeped through, creating a dark red splotch.

“There’s a reward for your capture, Mr. Hooded Horseman.” Sheriff Suggs smiled, showing brown, tobacco-stained teeth.

“No!” Celia raged, her voice strong while her hands shook. “You can’t take him! You have no proof.”

“Iwilltake him. He’s under arrest.”

Sheriff Suggs reached a hand toward Truett, but Celia stepped between them again.

“Don’t you dare touch him.” Celia clenched her hands into fists. Rage filled her so that she could barely see.

Truett caressed her shoulder and spoke softly in her ear. “It’s all right, Celia. I’ll go with him. It’ll be all right.”

* * *

Truett couldn’t letCelia and Will continue trying to defend him. Besides, he had no choice. They were all powerless to fight Suggs.

He stepped around Celia. “All right, Suggs. I won’t resist arrest, but I’ve done nothing wrong. My father and his friend, Judge William Richardson—I believe you know him, the probate judge?—are coming into town. Could be here any time today.”

Of course, Truett was bluffing. He hadn’t heard from either his father or Judge Richardson.

“Will,” Celia spoke up, her shoulders back and her chin high, “go hitch up the wagon. I will not have Truett walking or riding a horse with his injury.” She crossed her arms and glared at the sheriff. “Though it is slight . . . a slight injury. Not serious at all.”

Truett almost laughed at her clumsy attempt to make the sheriff think he wasn’t hurt bad. Not only was she high strung, she could spit fire, too. And it was more fun to watch when it was directed at someone besides him.

Celia made the sheriff wait until she had fixed blankets and pillows for Truett to rest on in the back of the wagon. When she told the sheriff she had one more pillow to get, he yelled at her and jumped up onto the seat. Truett squeezed her wrist and whispered, “I’m not hurt that bad. A slight injury, remember?”

She sat down beside Truett and his nest of blankets. “Sheriff, you may go now.”

Suggs grumbled under his breath, spit a long stream of tobacco juice at the dirt, then set the horses in motion.

At least James and Almira had gotten away.

Once they arrived at the jail, Celia refused to go home. She gave Truett all the blankets and quilts, pushing them between the bars, since the sheriff wouldn’t let her carry them into his cell herself. Then she settled herself on the floor and leaned against the wall next to his cell. She said she just wanted to make sure the sheriff didn’t do anything to him on the sly. Truett thought about telling her that if the sheriff wanted to kill him, there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it. But he decided against it.

The sheriff locked the cell and walked out, leaving them alone.

“Is your side hurting you?” Celia asked.

Truett was propped up, half-lying, half-sitting on the cot, the scent of mildew and sweat rising from the thin straw mattress. “No, not much.”