The Journey Home
Chapter Twenty Nine
Revelations
Rhett angled his way down the worn, scuffed sidewalk in Jonesboro. He paused at Byron Cagle's door before opening it and stepping inside. The large man was setting behind his desk looking over a slip of paper when Rhett walked in. His bushy brows raised in question.
"Mr. Butler, back again?" he asked.
Rhett lowered himself in the cane backed chair and crossed his arms. "Did you think I wouldn't be back?"
"No, I expected that you would," he nodded.
"Did you do as I asked? Did you check out Barrett?"
"Sure did."
"And?" Rhett cocked his brow toward him, his patience wearing thin.
"And, nothing," Byron told him leaning back in his chair. "The man is clean as far as I can tell. His story checks out. He worked for the Pinkerton's for three years before striking out on his own. That's all there is, Mr. Butler."
"There's more. There has to be. What about before the Pinkerton's or even after? Anything suspicious, anything at all?"
"No," Byron shook his head. "I think we're barking up the wrong tree."
Rhett sighed with indignation. He was so sure Barrett was no good, so sure he could practically taste it, but there didn't seem to be any proof. He was usually quite in tune with these sort of matters, had he perhaps lost his touch?
"I can't blame you for mistrusting him, considering, but the man's done nothing wrong."
"I know what I heard," Rhett answered in frustration.
"I don't doubt you heard something, but Barrett is clean. You want my advice? Go to Atlanta, go to your wife and forget all this."
"If you don't mind, I think I'll stay and do a bit of investigating on my own."
Byron pursed his lips, his bushy brows shooting up. "Suit yourself, Mr. Butler, but don't let your 'investigating' interfere with my job. And," he pointed a beefy finger at him, "let Barrett alone. Is that understood?"
"Completely," Rhett replied, though he had no intention to do so. He tipped his hat and stood. "If you hear anything, you'll let me know?"
"Sure will," Byron stood as well and outstretched his hand. Rhett shook it and left, making his way to the saloon.
He entered the dim room and bought a bottle of whiskey. He knew for a fact the men who had attacked him frequented the place every night, he only had to wait until they showed up to confront them about Barrett.
Rhett settled back in the corner table with a bottle of whiskey. He had nothing but time on his hands, and that led to too much time to think of Scarlett. As he tipped back the whiskey, he felt the burn down the back of his throat. He only wished it could burn her from his mind as easily.
Her image flashed in his minds eye in spite of his wish. God, why couldn't expel her from his soul? He didn't want to love her, he didn't want to care. He didn't want her in his thoughts or in his dreams.
But, in his dreams she was, tormenting him, luring him when he was defenseless to stop her. She was like a virus, an unrelenting, out of control virus that had taken over his mind and body with no hope of a cure. He had lived with it for years and should have known how to rid himself of her by now, but from the first moment those cat green eyes of hers fell on him the infection was dominant.
She was under his skin like no other woman had ever been and she knew her power. He poured another shot of the whiskey and gripped the tumbler tightly. He felt the sudden desire to slam it against the wall and watched it fall into shreds, but he quelled the instinct. Instead, he set it down slowly and released a deep breath from his lungs.
The scrape of a chair brought Rhett from his thoughts as Eli Barrett sat down opposite from him, resting his arms on the table.
"Mr. Butler." he acknowledged with a curt nod.
Rhett's dark eyes gave nothing away, but he acknowledged Eli with a curt nod of his own. "Barrett," he said and slid the bottle toward him.
Eli gave a gesture of thanks and poured himself a fair amount of the whiskey into his own glass. "I hear you've developed an interest in me," he said after taking a rather long swig of the fiery liquid.
"That I have. Though I gather you're not all that surprised?"
"Not at all," Eli shook his head. "I don't know what you hope to accomplish by coming after me. I've told you I had nothing to do with Olson's murder. Your wife believes me and so does the sheriff."
"Yes, well, my wife's view on such matters can be rather skewed at times. I've learned to be wary of who she puts her trust in."
"Don't you think she has a mind of her own? That she can think for herself and trust without doubt?"
"Scarlett most definitely has a mind of her own, but as for the other I'm not so sure. She's impulsive and quick to make hasty decisions. I fear you are one of those. Her trust in you has made her vulnerable."
"You've got it wrong. Your wife is not vulnerable to me, that seems to be your place of distinction. However, I know you have it out for me and I'm not entirely sure it's because you think I'm guilty of any crime."
"Is that so?" Rhett cocked an impudent brow to him.
"Yes," Eli nodded. "I think its part of the reason you sent her to Atlanta. You wanted her away from me."
Rhett narrowed his eyes on the young man and felt the burn of contempt crawl through his veins. He had spent years watching Scarlett chase after another man, a man not worthy of her. But this was different, very different. "You place entirely too much esteem upon your own shoulders, son. I have my reasons for sending Scarlett to Atlanta and none of them have to do with what you're suggesting. I did it for her safety and nothing more."
Eli laughed derisively and took a sip from the tumbler. "To keep her safe from me, I'm guessing."
"And whomever else you happen to be involved with."
"Scarlett is in no danger of harm from me, Mr. Butler. She's a special woman and I consider her a friend. But, I am obviously wasting my breath," Eli shook his head with disdain. "I'll make it easy on you by letting you know I'll be leaving Jonesboro tomorrow. There's no reason for me to stay."
Rhett's teeth gleamed white beneath his black mustache as he stared intently at Eli. "I can't hold you here, but if I hear your name associated with anyone I know again, I'll come after you and the next time you won't be so lucky. And, if you have any thoughts of going near my wife, I'd think again if I were you. Stay clear of her, is that understood?"
Eli's smile was too effortless, too condescending as he spoke. "You don't want her, but neither do you want anyone else to want her. You don't deserve her, Mr. Butler. I have a feeling, you never really have."
Rhett laughed sarcastically, "Well on that we must agree. My wife's actions can sometimes be more punishment than I feel I deserve. But that is the nature of our relationship, something you know nothing of and couldn't possibly hope to understand."
"Obviously not," Eli answered with a shake of his head.
Rhett took the tumbler and lifted it in salute. "I must be keeping you. Please don't stay in town longer on my part," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Before Eli could respond, a burst of laughter filled the place and the boisterous shouts of the men Rhett was waiting for filed in. They shouted for a bottle of whiskey and spread out latching onto the saloon girls. The leader, the one named Strom, pulled the cork from the bottle he was holding and took a long swig.
Rhett started to stand when he noticed Eli stiffen at the sight of the man at the bar. His eyes narrowed intently at his reaction and something inside of him told him he had received his first clue that he was right.
"Someone you know?" Rhett inquired of him, waiting for his response.
"No," came Eli's clipped response. "I have to go," he stood and threw a coin on the table. "Thanks for the drink, Mr. Butler."
Rhett watched as he lowered the hat on his head and walked past the man without so much as a glance. Strom had other ideas, however.
"Hey! Wait a minute," he called to Eli's retreating form. "Don't I know you?"
Eli paused for a moment and Rhett leaned forward as he watched it unfold.
"Hey you, come back here. I know you," Strom walked toward him.
"You've got the wrong man," Eli said over his shoulder and started for the door again.
"I said wait!" Strom bellowed and came around in front of him.
Rhett's eyes narrowed on Eli's back when Strom broke out into a broad smile. "Well, I'll be!"
His pulse quickened. This was what he was waiting for. Eli clasped his hands on his hips looked at the man with strained impatience.
"Elijah, what in the devil's hell are you doing here?" he slapped his back with gusto. Eli didn't respond, but Strom didn't seem to notice. "You're a sight for sore eyes, boy," he laughed.
Rhett smiled, he had him…
"Wait'll Cane sees you," Strom laughed again. "He'll be plum happy to see you joining back up with us."
"No," Eli gave a short nod. He turned to Rhett and seeing the look on his face, turned away with a low curse.
"Something wrong, Eli?" Strom looked past him to Rhett and his eyes slanted as if he recognized him, but he made no move toward him.
"Nothing's wrong, Strom. Can I talk to you alone?"
"Sure," he nodded and slapped him on the back again. "Anything you say."
Rhett watched the two men leave the saloon and he stood to follow them. He had only made it a few steps when he felt a hand connect with his chest and shove him back. "Going somewhere?"
He cut his eyes to the man who had pushed him and recognized him as Cyrus, the one who had taken his money and his watch. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you."
"Or what?" he asked in a menacingly cold voice.
"Or the next time you leave here, it won't be on your feet."
Cyrus stared at him, a fleeting look of recognition dawning on his face. "I know you," he said looking Rhett over.
"We've met," Rhett acknowledged. "I believe it was while you were helping yourself to my possessions."
Cyrus gave no response, but continued to stare coldly at him.
"You had the upper hand that time, don't make the mistake of thinking you do again."
"Is that so?" he smiled maliciously and placed his hand near the gun that rested in its holster on his hip.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Rhett's eyes darkened while his pulse quickened. He watched the man's actions, anticipating his move before he ever made it. As quickly as he reached for the gun, Rhett slammed into his arm sending it flying across the room.
Not giving him time to react, he kicked into his midsection and heard the release of air expel from his lungs. With the same leg, he kicked up into his face and sent him sprawling backwards.
Suddenly, all hell broke loose as every man in the place reacted to what had happened and Rhett found himself confronted with at least five men, all staring at him with unbridled rage at what he had done to their compadre.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins at the prospect of slamming his fists into their faces. He needed this release after weeks of pent up frustration and with a laugh he flung off his coat and threw his hat aside. "I like these odds," he stared at them all and readied himself.
With a loud roar the first one came after him but Rhett caught him quickly enough with an uppercut to the jaw. The second one met him with a blow and crack exploded in his head. Staggering backwards, he shook it off and ran forward, grappling him by the waist and slamming him to the ground.
Chaos was around him as sounds of crashing, grunting and groans filled the stale air. It was only when he came up to swing his fist into then nearest man did he see Eli run in. Suddenly, he slammed his fist into one of Stroms's men and sent him flying backwards. He then grabbed another and hit him as hard as the other and he also went flying backwards.
"Lookout!" he shouted, giving Rhett enough time to move before a chair connected with his head. Reacting on instinct, Rhett picked up the chair and hit the man with as much force as he could muster. Suddenly, it was he and Eli against them all. It was if they could read each other's minds and their actions backed it up. One by one the men fell under Rhett and Eli's unrelenting fists until it was only them left, heaving and bloody but the victor's nonetheless.
"Let's get out of here," Eli breathed hard and pointed for the door.
"This changes nothing," Rhett responded with deep, gasping breaths of his own.
"Doesn't matter to me," he tried to smile through bruised and bloodied lips and grabbed a bottle of whiskey discarded on the ground. "I need a drink."
In spite of his soreness that he was sure he would pay for later, Rhett nodded in agreement and grabbed a bottle for himself. He located his coat and hat and gingerly sat it on his head. "I'm getting too old for this," he groaned as he spoke, feeling pain slice through his jaw as he did.
"You did a pretty good job in there," Eli said once they were outside and away from the building. He took a swig on the bottle and let the burning liquid do its job.
"Why?" Rhett asked, barely turning his head toward him. "Why did you come back?"
"Someone needed to save your sorry hide," he smiled but winced as he spoke.
"I didn't need your help," he quickly responded and bit the cork off the top of the bottle before taking a long swig on it.
"Oh yeah, I forgot… blockade runner, captain, soldier… you're a man of many hats, Mr. Butler, but you still needed someone to help your sorry hide."
Rhett would have laughed had been able to do so without hurting. "The truth, Barrett. How do you know those men?"
Eli didn't respond at first, but he finally nodded. "It's a long story."
Rhett stopped and turned to him. "I have nothing but time on my hands."
With a sigh, Eli took another long drink and gently wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He turned to Rhett and gave a short nod. "Let's go clean ourselves up and I'll tell you what you want to know, Mr. Butler. I have a feeling you're going to need my help again."