"Did he say anything about the shooting?" Maarit Kaukonen said as she brought the plate of dinner rolls around the table.
Jacob Wheeler could only shake his head. His mouth was full.
"Sorry, Jake. Bad timing."
He swallowed and smiled. "Not a problem, Maarit. No, he didn't. And he wouldn't anyway, at an arraignment. The judge just asks a few questions, and the prosecutor reads off the charges. The judge decides whether or not the accused gets bail, and how much it is. Defense pleads, and that's the end until the jury selection starts."
"He's getting bail?" said Timo Kaukonen, as he accepted rolls from his sister. "I can't believe that anybody would let Kid Curry out on bail."
"You've got that right, Timo. No bail. He went straight back to the jail where he's sitting right now, though he's not getting a fine meal like this. You've outdone yourself again, Maarit."
"It's hard to spoil beautiful salmon like this, Jake. It's very like what we had in Finland. But I do thank you for your kind words. "
Wheeler pointed the tip of his knife at Mike Ahern, who was giving his fiancee the benefit of what Jake called "the big blue-eyed look."
"Mike, she is going to spoil you rotten. You are one lucky man."
"Don't I know it," Ahern said. "Sweetheart, why don't you leave that for now and sit down with us. You're going to miss your own cooking." He got up and pulled out a chair for her. He kissed her lightly on the forehead as she settled into her chair. The other men just grinned.
"Not a word out of you two. Ain't nothing wrong when a man kisses his future wife." He changed the subject fast, before his best friend could think of something clever to say.
"Jake." Wheeler noticed the changed tone. "What exactly did they charge him with?"
Wheeler put down his utensils. "Everything but truancy. The new stuff from the shooting in The Dalles, plus all sorts of armed robbery in Wyoming."
"It's been years since the Devil's Hole Gang was robbing," Timo said. "Hasn't the statute of limitations run out?"
"Not in Wyoming. There's no statute of limitations there. If you stole an apple when you were twelve years old, you could still be charged and convicted when you're ninety. He's unlikely to see much sunlight for the next 20 years at least, if he really is Kid Curry."
"There's still doubt about that?" Maarit asked. "Everybody says he's Kid Curry. Has he denied it?"
"No, he hasn't. "
"Then, why? . . "
"Because he can't prove he is, anymore than we can prove he isn't. And there's nobody here can identify him for sure. "
Timo was resting his chin on his hands. He looked thoughtful. "Didn't there used to be some famous sheriff in Wyoming who'd run with that gang and then gone straight? Travell, Trevor, something like that? Could he do it?" He was gazing at the wall and failed to notice how both Mike and Jake tensed up. No one spoke for a long moment.
"Uh-huh," Ahern finally said. "Used to be. Man named Lom Trevors."
"Yeah, that's the name. Used to be, you said? What happened to him? He go back to outlawing?"
"No, not at all. Once he became an honest man, he stayed honest."
Timo looked up. The other two men were looking at each other but not speaking. It seemed like they were having a conversation without words.
"What happened to Sheriff Trevors?" Maarit asked.
Wheeler answered. "His heart gave out. Just walking down the street of his town one day about five years ago, and he keeled over. Dropped dead on the street."
"How sad," Maarit said. "He must have been a remarkable man, to give up outlawing like he did and go completely straight."
"He was," Ahern said.
"You knew him, Mike?" Timo asked.
Wheeler shot a quick glance at his friend. Ahern hesitated before he answered.
"I met him a couple times. I, ah . . . I wouldn't say I knew him."
"Huh. Well, I guess the bottom line is, Eberly can't get him to identify your client. Is there any dessert, pikku sisko?"
"Help me clear the dishes, and you can have some dessert. Deal?" Timo smiled at his little sister, and together, they moved to clear dishes and take them into the kitchen.
Left alone with Wheeler for the moment, Ahern opened his mouth to speak. Wheeler raised his hand and silently mouthed "later." The men sat with folded hands until the others came back.
"Here it is," said Maarit. "You call it blueberry pie in English. I could teach you the Finnish word for it, but I think you would break a tooth."
"Everything you make tastes good in Finnish and English, sweetheart," Ahern said. He reached up and tucked a few stray pale blond hairs behind her ear. Wheeler sat back, grinning. It felt good to see his friend so happy. Talking about Lom had reminded him of the years they'd wasted chasing the amnesty dream. Even though the amnesty had never come through, they'd managed to leave the outlaw life behind. Now they both had good lives in this booming town on the Pacific Ocean, as far west as they could go without getting their feet wet.
Mike had a thriving business, a beautiful and kind fiancee, and good prospects for a happy life. Wheeler frowned a little as he recalled the troublesome client sitting in Ed Eberly's jail right now, the man he was obligated to defend. The same man who could destroy everything he and Mike had. He knew he had to protect his friend now as much as he had when they were children. No one could be allowed to threaten his happiness or well-being. Especially not Fred Philpott.