“What’s happening?”
He said nothing, his eyes locked on Pratt, who was strutting toward the two groups as if he were an actor taking the stage.
Levi took his eyes off the sheriff long enough to stare Eden down. “Go. Now.”
She bit her lip, indecision furrowing her brow.
“Pleasthe,” he whispered, the word hissing through his teeth.
A dewy mist shimmered over her mossy eyes a second before she spun away and scurried over to Hattie.
Feeling more in control with Eden out of harm’s way, Levi braced his legs apart and waited for the ax to fall.
Having reached center stage, Pratt raised his hand to silence the crowd. “Gentlemen . . . and ladies,” he added, dipping his chin in Eden’s direction, “you are well aware that I have sworn to protect our fair town from criminals and those of unsavory influence.”
He knows.
Levi steeled himself for what was to come. He could feel Eden’s eyes on him, but he forced himself not to look. He wouldn’t drag her down with him.
“And I honor that oath even when it means turning against one of our own.” The sheriff pivoted, gesturing to Levi. “The man you see before you would have you believe that he is a mild-mannered, church-going man. An honest laborer. A hero. But in truth, he’s a brawler, a man with no conscience, one who wouldn’t hesitate to end a man’s life with his fists if there was money to be had.
“You know him as Levi Grant, the blacksmith. But the prizefighting world knows him as the Anvil.”
Murmurs worked their way through the crowd.
He used to hunger for those sounds of excitement, for the satisfaction that came from boys looking at him in awe, and men eying him with respect or even envy. Today he wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
Suddenly a woman’s shrill gasp cut through the low hum. “Chester! I want that man out of our town. It’s not safe to have that kind of brute around our children.”
“Hattie, you don’t understand.” Eden’s voice. “The sheriff is twisting things around.”
“Be quiet, child,” the older woman snapped. “You’re not exactly the best judge of a man’s character, now, are you?”
The sly insinuation was too much for Levi. He turned and glared at Hattie Fowler until she cringed and latched on to her husband’s arm.
“See, Chester!” she screeched. “He’s a beast. Do something!”
Norman Draper, head of the council, stepped forward. “Is it true, Grant? Are you this Anvil character?”
Levi stood straight, unflinching, as he met the banker’s eye. “Not anymore.”
“But you were.”
He nodded.
“The Anvil. I hearda him.” The awe in the young cowhand’s voice made Levi sick to his stomach. “My uncle saw him fight. Said he’d pummel a feller till he was a bloody mess and then drop ’im with a single punch. Stopped fightin’ a couple years back, though. Kilt a feller, or something, I think.”
Levi closed his eyes against the old shame for a moment, then focused on the clouds above Draper’s head.
“A killer?” Hattie squawked.
“I’m afraid so.” The sheriff took control of his little play once again. “Killed a man with his bare hands. Did two years in Huntsville for his crime.”
“It was an accident!” Eden lunged out of the group and advanced on Pratt, obliterating Levi’s hard-won stoicism. He jumped to intercept her, not wanting her anywhere near the sheriff. But before he could reach her, Pratt’s buddy, Salazar, drew his weapon.
“Back off, Grant. Your time will come.” The Hang Dog owner twitched his gun to the side to get Levi to step away from the sheriff, then aimed it back at his chest.
Eden, however, made no move to back off. She threw herself directly into Pratt’s path, and Levi was helpless to do anything but watch.
“Stop this, Conrad. Please. Levi is a good man. The fighting is just part of his past. He’s changed.”
“You knew?” The sheriff’s eyes widened for a brief moment, then narrowed into slits. “Why, you little hypocrite.” He towered over her.
Levi surged toward them, intent on protecting Eden. Until Salazar shouldered him in the chest and dug the barrel of his gun into his abdomen.
“Let’s give them a minute, shall we?”
Levi scowled at the saloon owner but yielded. As he stepped back, he told himself that Pratt wouldn’t hurt Eden, not with council members looking on. But the reassurance did little to calm the fever building inside him.
Sheriff Pratt grabbed Eden’s arm and hauled her back toward the buggy. “All this time you kept telling me you could never be with a man who made his living with a gun, and now you throw yourself at a man who passes the time by pummeling people? He killed a man, Eden!”
“He’s paid for his crime. Leave him be.”
The sheriff stared at her long and hard, then shoved her aside and addressed the crowd. “Miss Spencer thinks I should leave the poor blacksmith alone. Says he’s paid for his crime. But I stay he still owes a debt. A debt to this town for his deception, but more importantly, a debt to that man.” He pointed behind the roughs from the saloon, to someone lurking in the shadow of the schoolhouse.
“The man who lost a brother at the Anvil’s hands.”
Chapter Forty-One
If hate could put on a body and walk around, it would look exactly like the stranger who pushed through the crowd and planted himself in front of Levi. The coldness of the man’s gaze sent a shiver through Eden. He slanted his head to the side. The sound of cracking vertebrae echoed in the sudden stillness. He repeated the action in the other direction and slowly circled his shoulders.
“In the interest of justice,” the sheriff announced, “I arranged a sparring contest mimicking that fatal bout from two years ago. Tom Goodwin deserves the chance to avenge his brother, and the town of Spencer deserves to see the true nature of the man they welcomed into their midst.”
The saloon crowd buzzed.
“The Anvil’s gonna fight! Did ya hear?”
“My money’s on Goodwin. Look at his eyes. He’s gonna settle that score or die tryin’.”
“I’ll take that bet. You didn’t see Grant swing that hammer out at the quarry. The man’s tireless and strong as an ox.”
Money changed hands, voices rose, and panic seized Eden by the throat. She had to do something—but what? Conrad Pratt was so bent on discrediting Levi that he refused to listen to anything rational. Eden focused on Levi, willing him to look at her, to somehow communicate to her what she should do. But he had eyes only for his opponent.
She knew the toll fighting had taken on his soul. He couldn’t do this. They were backing him into a corner. It wasn’t fair. Why didn’t somebody stop it?
Eden searched the crowd for help, only now realizing the lack of sympathetic faces. Sheriff Pratt had rigged the game in his favor. Dave Cranford, Harvey Sims, Claude Barnes—none of Levi’s friends were among the throng. The only person who met her gaze with a hint of compassion was Violet, but she made no move to interfere.
Someone came up behind Eden and cupped her shoulders. “Come, Miss Spencer. You don’t want to get caught up in the middle of this mess.” Alex Carson drew her back to where the council members stood.
She turned to him and grabbed his hand. “Please, Alex. You must stop this.”
“I don’t think I can.” He shook his head. “The townsfolk feel betrayed. Mr. Grant played them for fools.”
“No, he hasn’t. The past is just that—the past. What matters is the man he is now.” Eden tightened her grip, squeezing the man’s hand as if she could force the truth under his skin and into his heart. “Levi’s been nothing but good for this town.”
“He killed a man, Eden. That can’t be forgiven.”
“Yes it can!” She was living proof. But before she could argue further, Hattie Fowler let out another gasp.
“Merciful heavens, Chester.” She fanned herself with her hand as she sp
uttered. “They’re . . . they’re disrobing!”
Eden spun around. Mr. Goodwin had stripped out of his shirt and snapped his suspenders over bare shoulders—shoulders that were nearly as wide as Levi’s. Unlike the drunkard who had accosted Levi outside the smithy, this man would inflict serious damage if he were set loose.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. What can I do? Her mind screamed the question but offered no answer.
Levi hadn’t moved. He stood ramrod straight, eying Goodwin but making no move to follow his example.
“Time to show us what you’re made of, Grant,” the sheriff prodded. “Make ready.”
“I’m not fighting.”
He said it loud and clear. With conviction. Silencing the crowd. Hope soared in Eden’s breast. Maybe now reason would finally penetrate the thick skulls of the onlookers. It took two to fight, and Levi would have no part in their bloodthirsty game.
“He has to fight,” one man called out. “We already laid wagers.”
A roar of agreement escalated.
“Salazar. Help him with his coat.” The sheriff motioned for the spectators to move back and then used his bootheel to draw a line in the packed dirt of the schoolyard. “I promised the men a fight, and a fight there will be. If Grant wants to bleed all over his shirt, that’s his choice.”
Eden felt reason drain away from the group once again, taking her hope with it. She turned once again to plead with the councilmen. “Mr. Draper, please. Call Pratt off. Don’t you see how pointless this is? Levi has admitted his wrongs. What does forcing him to fight achieve? Nothing!”
“It gives Goodwin a chance to right the wrong done to his family.”
Eden blinked at him, incredulous that he made such an absurd statement with a straight face. “Pounding fists into a man’s flesh doesn’t make anything right. All it does is make an old wrong worse.”
The banker pushed her gently aside. “You’re a woman, Miss Spencer. You wouldn’t understand.”
She stared at each of the council members in turn. “Levi’s a man of his word. If he says he won’t fight, he won’t. Forcing him to face Goodwin will be inviting a massacre. And the blood will be on your hands.”
“Your man is built like a mountain,” Chester Fowler said. “He won’t let Goodwin take him down without defending himself.” He patted her arm with such placation, Eden wanted to scream. “He might not want to fight, but his survival instinct will surge and he’ll protect himself. Don’t worry, dear.”
Dear? Of all the condescending, addlepated . . . The man was acting as if she were some hysterical, irrational creature in need of soothing. Didn’t they realize they were the ones being irrational?
Disgusted, she stepped away. She’d receive no help from that corner. Eden walked toward the carriage, her eyes once again on Levi. Salazar was working to strip the coat from his back, with little success. Levi didn’t struggle but neither did he help. He was a picture of dignity. Eden was so proud of him, she ached with it.
The saloon owner finally managed to get the coat off and tossed it onto the ground a few inches away from the rear buggy wheel. Her focus still on her blacksmith, she bent to retrieve the coat. She dusted it off, smoothed out the wrinkles, and held it close to her heart, just as she longed to do with the man who’d worn it.
“Toe the line, gentlemen.” The sheriff’s call speared through Eden like a dart. She tossed the coat onto the buggy seat and grabbed onto one of the spokes that supported the bonnet, her grip so tight the slender rod dug painfully into her palm.
Without hesitation, Goodwin moved to the far side of the dirt line.
Levi, however, held fast. “I made a vow, Pratt. A vow before God that I would never again fight for man or money. I will not break that vow.”
“Is that so?” The sheriff walked a slow circle around Levi, his skepticism palpable. He halted directly behind him and clasped the blacksmith’s shoulders. “Well, now’s your chance to prove to the good people of Spencer exactly how much you’ve changed.”
In a blur of motion, Pratt brought his boot up and shoved. Levi staggered forward, tripping across the fight line as he grappled to regain his balance. Tom Goodwin’s fist immediately pounded into the side of Levi’s head.
Eden gasped. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away, the violence making her ill. But her heart wouldn’t let her hide. Not when the man she loved was under attack.
She opened her eyes in time to see Levi throw up a hand to ward off another blow. He pushed Goodwin back and somehow managed to get his feet under him.
Sheriff Pratt’s laughter rang in Eden’s ears. “Now we’ll see the kind of man you truly are, Grant.”
Shouts thundered from the saloon crowd, the noise increasing with each punch Goodwin landed.
“Get him, Anvil. My money’s on you!”
“Rip his head off!”
“Don’t just stand there, fool. Fight!”
But Levi refused. He blocked what shots he could and dodged others, yet he never struck back.
The longer the one-sided fight went on, the more unruly the crowd became. The cheers for Levi dissipated, replaced by boos and insults. Those who had wagered shouted out angry threats each time Levi took a hit. Which happened with growing frequency.
Tears ran down Eden’s cheeks as minute after minute passed and Levi visibly weakened. His blocking slowed, and Goodwin connected blow after blow. Each time Levi took a direct hit, Eden’s agony intensified. Then as she watched, Goodwin’s fist smashed into Levi’s side. It collided with such force, the resulting thud echoed in Eden’s chest. Before Levi could recover, his opponent struck his jaw hard enough to snap his head back on his neck like a boneless rag doll. Her blacksmith, in all his powerful glory, crumpled.
“Levi!” Eden ran to him as he labored to his knees and then his feet. But before she could touch him, a pair of hard arms banded around her middle.
“Stay out of this, Eden,” the sheriff growled in her ear as he dragged her away.
She kicked and twisted and contorted her body until she slipped beneath his grasp. She lunged forward and grasped Levi’s arm. He wobbled and had to step back to steady himself. Blood stained his face from a cut above his right eye and another from his lip. Red abrasions marked his jaw, and his torso bent protectively to the left. He wasn’t going to survive this unhampered brutality much longer.
“Fight back. I can’t bear to watch him kill you. Please, fight back!”
Soul-deep sadness radiated from Levi’s eyes. Eden knew what his answer was going to be before he uttered a word, but when he spoke, the finality of it cleaved her in two.
“I won’t break my vow, Eden. Not even for you.”
This time when the sheriff’s arms closed around her, Eden didn’t fight. As he pulled her away, she smiled through her tears at her brave warrior, lending him the only support she could. “I love you.”
“I—” A fist to his face cut off his reply.
Sheriff Pratt tossed Eden back into the crowd. He glared and pointed a finger at the man who caught her. “Talk some sense into the little she-devil, will you, Alex? She’s liable to get herself hurt with another stunt like that. Fighting’s a man’s business.”
Eden leapt to her feet, her own hands balled into fists. “But Levi’s not fighting! Surely you can see that. He’s proven to be a man of his word. Call it off.”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. I’m a man of my word, too. I promised Goodwin a chance to avenge his brother, and I’ll see that he gets it.”
Just then a groan vibrated through the crowd. Eden swiveled back to the fight. Levi had gone down. Goodwin grabbed him by the hair and slammed his fist into his face. Levi’s body flopped to the ground and didn’t move. That did nothing to deter Goodwin, though. He reached for his hair a second time.
“He’s killing him! You’ve got to stop this. Please!” She broke away from Alex Carson and grabbed the sheriff by his shirt, but he pushed her aside.
“It’s gone f
ar enough,” she heard Norman Draper say. “The man’s beaten, Conrad. Call a stop to the fight.”
“Not yet. Grant’s just playing possum.” The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest, and no one made a move to do anything. Meanwhile Goodwin continued his beating. Levi’s battered body lay limp upon the ground, moving only when his opponent rammed a fist or foot into him.
Eden eased away from the men, her mind suddenly calm and clear. She circled past the carriage, then over to the schoolhouse. No one paid her any mind. They were too busy drinking in the gore of the one-sided match.
A homemade baseball bat and ball lay forgotten against the side of the building, waiting for the boys who had left them there after yesterday’s recess. Taking the bat in her hands, Eden gripped the handle and crept forward.
Levi might have promised the Lord not to fight, but she’d made no such vow.
Chapter Forty-Two
Not wanting to think about what she was about to do, or worse, give someone the chance to stop her, Eden rushed at Goodwin from behind, bat raised. The man had Levi by the hair, his arm poised for another blow. But Eden beat him to the punch. She swung the bat with all her might, crashing it across his wide shoulders.
The man roared and turned on her, his eyes glazed with rage. He swatted the stick out of her hand and shoved her to the ground. Eden collided with the unforgiving earth, her grunt echoing loudly through the stunned silence that gripped the crowd.
“Stay out of this, woman,” Goodwin seethed.
Eden braced her arms beneath her and met the man’s glare. “Where is the honor in brutalizing a man who doesn’t fight back? It’s no better than gunning down an unarmed man in the street. You’re not honoring your brother by your deeds today, Mr. Goodwin. You’re dishonoring yourself.”
“Don’t talk to me of my brother. He had a wife, children. His family deserves justice!”
“This isn’t justice!” Eden yelled.
Goodwin growled and drew back his arm. His open palm barreled toward her face. Eden cringed and cried out. A gray blur sprang across her body and latched on to Goodwin’s arm. Eden scurried backward on her hands and heels. Ornery!