Jacob looked at the clock. He ought to lock Bryant up, but precious minutes were slipping away. “Do I need to put you in jail, or can I trust you to stay put?”
Bryant stood. “I’ll be outside the doc’s until he lets me back in.”
“You disappear and I won’t be able to help you much.”
Bryant nodded and slogged out the door.
Jacob gestured at Celia. “Go to your room and stay.”
Without protest, Celia turned for the stairs.
With tears in her eyes, Annie watched her daughter until she disappeared. “It’ll be a long time before she sees she’s not at fault.”
Jacob paused in the middle of stuffing himself into his coat. He couldn’t let her believe Celia had no culpability, no matter how much it might comfort her at present. “I’m sorry, love. But she was likely caught up in enough criminal activity I’ll be bringing her before a judge as well.”
Annie shot him a wounded glance.
“Her part in what happened to Leah was accidental—I have no doubt—but she’ll have to answer for her involvement with McGill’s hired men.”
Annie only stared at him, her body so tense, she was surely working hard not to cry.
He pulled her to stand and held her tight, nestling his cheek against her soft hair. “Rejoice over your daughter’s return, but don’t quit praying. God can use terrible mistakes for good. Pray Leah won’t die, and if she does, that her death won’t be in vain.”
Her eyes turned watery.
Squeezing the thought of Leah possibly leaving them all behind from his mind to deal with when he returned, Jacob rubbed Annie’s back until she breathed more evenly. “I’m sure you can find ways to help them while I’m gone. Hold Leah’s hand, make Bryant eat. But I have to go if I have any chance of bringing in the men who did this to her.”
He pressed a kiss against her forehead then stepped away.
She snagged him back, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips.
As much as he wanted to stay and hold her, enjoying the affection she was just now offering so freely, the rustlers were getting away.
He broke away. “I’ll be back.”
“Please,” Annie whispered against his lips. “Please come back to me.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Jacob tried to rub the bleariness from his eyes as he sat behind his desk, but the cell bars still danced, just like the semi-elated swirling still humming inside him.
After so many months of chasing them, he’d nabbed the rustlers three mornings ago as easily as if he’d walked into the mercantile and ordered them from the back. A few hours of following their trail from where the stampede had occurred, and he and his four men had rounded up the rustlers along with their ill-gotten gain.
Though hauling in McGill and Passey had proved no laughing matter, Guy and Rufus had squealed all the way home like the wee little pig, making the arrests fairly routine.
Now if only he could get some rest after four days of little sleep, he’d truly feel accomplished, but Tom Passey’s snoring echoed off every last bit of metal in the room.
Though the morning was half past, his prisoners had gone back to sleep, which was fine with him, considering the only other thing they did between courtroom visits was fight.
Since Tom’s snoring wasn’t as bad as an all-out brawl, he’d have to grin and bear it. Though for a man no taller than larkspur, his throaty rasps sure rivaled a bison’s bellow.
McGill, Rufus, and Guy were all lying on their cots with their pillows bunched over their heads. The only one up was Bryant, who was locked in a separate cell for his protection. He’d been standing by his small barred window, blankly staring into the alleyway, since before first light.
Leah’s life still hung on a precipice, but once he’d returned to town, he’d had to lock up Bryant. Was doing so cruel?
And yet, with the way the cattlemen were out for blood after hearing about the city corruption, Bryant wasn’t safe outside these walls.
Jacob pressed against the pulsing at his temples. Of course, Tom’s racket was cruel and unusual punishment of another sort.
As much as these men might deserve such, he couldn’t take any more.
Stepping out onto the porch, he held his hand up to block the sun and see down the crowded street.
The sidewalks were teeming with vendors preparing for tomorrow’s sentencing, vying for the best spots to sell to the wagons full of people they hoped would arrive soon.
He couldn’t stop the county folk from coming in to see if the town’s mayor would swing from a noose, but it tore at his gut that people would travel in hopes of watching someone’s death or profiting from those who’d come for such a purpose.
It was too soon for Nolan to be headed over to relieve him, but hopefully he’d arrive early and save him from succumbing to madness.
A thump sounded from within the jail cells and he turned to look through the doorway.
“Wake up, you lout!”
Tom stuffed the pillow Rufus had thrown at him behind his head and settled back to snoring.
Rufus groaned and slumped back onto his cot.
Jacob couldn’t take it. He marched back inside, grabbed a tin cup, and struck it against the bars. “Wake up.”
Rufus kicked Tom’s cot’s leg, and the rickety bed collapsed.
“Why you—”
“Hey! Don’t you touch him, Tom.” If they argued much more, he might have to lock himself away for assault. “Leave him be, Rufus. Or I’ll put you both back in handcuffs.”
McGill’s cot bowed under his weight as he sat up. His eyes were bloodshot and droopy, but he still managed to send Jacob a hate-filled glare.
His boss had spent his entire first day behind bars threatening him, but had held his tongue after a group of cattlemen had tried to break in and pull him out for an immediate hanging.
Jacob had barred the door, shouting above the mob to reassure everyone the judge would see to the rustlers in due time, but that hadn’t appeased them. Fortunately, several men of integrity had come to encourage the riled-up cattlemen to let the Lord have his vengeance. They’d also periodically relieved Jacob from his constant vigil in protecting McGill from his enemies.
But even with their help, he hadn’t been home for more than a few hours these last three days.
“When is that old biddy coming with lunch?” Rufus stood staring at him from behind the bars as if he were in charge.
“Sometime today, I’m sure. I still have coffee if you’d like.”
The man retrieved his mug, and Jacob poured him some before sidling over to Bryant’s cell. “Want a drink?”
Bryant shook his head.
The man hadn’t said a word to him in three days, not that he blamed him. Talking in front of McGill and his associates would only rile up the men more.
If everyone wasn’t so intent on turning everything into a reason for fisticuffs, he’d let Bryant out to talk with him on the porch, but he wasn’t about to do anything to incite the cattlemen’s ire either. Though they’d soon owe Bryant for the charges sticking to McGill, they weren’t in the best of moods and might take out their frustration on any prisoner within their grasp.
A light knock rattled the front door.
“Finally.” Guy stood and stretched. “I need something in my stomach before I slam these two idiots’ heads together.”
The smell of baked ham caused Jacob’s stomach to rumble as he opened the door.
His lips drew tight at the sight of the old “biddy” who stood outside. Gwen was the farthest thing from old. Thankfully the few times she’d come by to see her father, she’d not tried to flirt. A welcome relief. “Come in, Miss McGill. The men are certainly ready for their meals. Is Mrs. Tate all right?”
“Her arthritis was acting up, so I volunteered to bring lunch.”
Gwen? Volunteer?
She shot a glance at her father. “I hope I can still be of assistance despite my connections.”
M
cGill hmphed and turned his back on his daughter.
At Jacob’s nod, she passed by and served the men ham, beans, and crackers.
Almost as soon as she handed the plates through the bars, they were licked clean, except for her father’s and Bryant’s.
She lingered in front of Bryant’s cell. “I called on the doc on the way over. I’m afraid there hasn’t been much change.”
Bryant looked up at her for a second before turning to stare back out the window. That he’d even reacted showed he’d been glad to know it.
Jacob stepped closer. “Thank you for the update, Miss McGill.”
She turned toward him and placed a plate on the office desk, decked out with extra food, which Mrs. Tate had never done. “You have to be starving as well. I’ve fresh butter and bread—”
Tom rattled the bars. “I didn’t get any bread and butter.”
She planted a hand on her hip. “And do you deserve any of what you got?”
Jacob huffed. She’d make a good schoolteacher. Too bad she’d likely turn back into a flirt once things settled down.
“He can have my food.” Jacob slid his plate away. “I’ll be eating at home soon enough.”
Gwen frowned, but marched his lunch over to Tom’s awaiting hand.
The scruffy cowboy caught her by the wrist and licked his lips. “I bet this don’t taste nearly as good as you’d—”
“Unhand her.” Jacob stalked over to the cell, but with a crash of a fist, McGill had laid Tom flat before he’d even realized his boss had moved.
Rufus and Guy chortled, and Jacob gave McGill the eye, not that he’d punish the man.
And with Tom out cold, well, things might be a bit quieter around here—for a few minutes anyway.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Gwen reached through the bars toward her father, but McGill ignored her and returned to his cot.
Why was McGill intent on rebuffing his daughter?
“Why don’t we go outside and let him alone? Mrs. Tate can retrieve the dirty dishes when she comes by to deliver supper and lectures.” He offered Gwen his arm, and after one last glance at her father, she took it.
The nose-tickling, pollen-laden summer breeze hit them full force as Jacob escorted her outside. “I’m sorry your father is acting as if his being behind bars is your fault.”
She released his arm and jammed her hands on her hips. “Oh, but it is.”
“How’s that?”
“Those notes you’ve been finding under your door these past several months—?”
“You’re my tipster?”
A smile of pride licked at her lips. “I knew you’d figure things out with a little help.”
But he hadn’t. However, admitting that wouldn’t change anything.
“Well, I’m ... obliged.” His muscles tightened. Surely this wasn’t some ploy to get on his good side and ruin his marriage. “But why?”
She shrugged and looked ... embarrassed?
“I had an idea of what he was up to, but no proof. Without my brother here, you were my only hope of setting things right.”
She turned away, the tilt of her chin less proud than usual. “Though I know God says to love my father, he’s not exactly easy to live with, so I feared confronting him. And Daddy was finding it a bit too amusing that you were so befuddled. Of course, he had the advantage of being able to order you around and know everywhere you went. I knew if he caught me talking to you, he’d start watching me like a hawk. So since he has little patience with my flirting, I figured I could cover up any trips to your office as vain attempts to flatter you, and he’d think little of it.”
“So this whole time...?”
She blushed a little. “I’m sure your wife hates me, but once I started the ruse, I had to keep up appearances lest anyone inform him I acted one way while he was around and another when he wasn’t.”
He sighed overly loud, the relief too big to keep in.
Gwen ducked her head in that flirty feminine way she had, but this time, her eyes were more serious and contrite than he’d ever seen. “Have you given any thought to replacing my father? I’m afraid Armelle will need a new mayor soon.”
“I figure there’s no need to be discussing who might replace him until after the sentencing.” McGill should be found guilty, but one could never tell. “Besides, I’m not the one who decides such things.”
“No, I’m talking about you replacing him, Marshal. Now that you’ve rounded up the rustlers and exposed the county’s corruption, you’d easily win the mayoral position. And I can help. I know how to campaign—”
“Thank you, but no.” Though he likely could win, he planned to shuck his duties to the city the first chance he got.
“But there isn’t another man as honest and good and—”
“Excuse me.” Jacob stepped away and flagged down Nolan, who seemed to have realized he’d want to be relieved earlier than he’d requested. “I appreciate your recommendation, Miss McGill, but I’m not interested.” Even if he was, Annie would likely prefer he choose another campaign manager, even if Gwen’s past flirting had all been a farce.
Gwen’s smile dimmed a little. “If you ever change your mind, I’m willing to help.”
“Thank you.”
Nolan tipped his hat to Gwen as she took her leave and pulled his horse to a stop. “Never seen this town so busy.” The man who might have been his right-hand man, if not for how busy he was improving his father’s ranch and a missing a leg, wiped his sleeve against his sweaty forehead.
“I wish there wasn’t a reason for it.”
“Ah, but we’re all breathing a sigh of relief for what you’ve done. Here’s hoping there aren’t any more of them and we’ll be months, or even years, free from rustlers.”
Frank Dent crossed the street, frowning at Nolan as he came closer. “Was I not the one scheduled to relieve you this afternoon?”
Jacob frowned at Frank. Ugh, he’d probably told him to come in today. “No. I’m sorry you came all this way. I guess my lack of sleep mixed me up.”
Frank shrugged and looked to Nolan. “Since you live closer to town, you mind switching?”
Nolan turned and surveyed the crowd. “I don’t mind. Though I’m not looking forward to beating back the crowd for some food, had my hopes on some of Mrs. Tate’s sweet potato pie.”
As much as Jacob had looked forward to a quiet hour with his wife and children, the price of food at the hotel had likely doubled. “Mrs. Tate wasn’t delivering today, but why don’t you join me for lunch? I’m sure Annie will have plenty.”
The man’s face brightened. “I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”
“Then it’s settled.” He handed Frank the keys. “Watch Bryant for me, will ya? I’m afraid he’s ... feeling like he’s not worth much to this world anymore.”
Nolan nodded solemnly. “I fear I know that feeling all too well.”
Jacob gripped his shoulder. “And as you know, that’s hogwash. This world doesn’t need to lose a fine man like you or the man Bryant can be.”
After some quick instructions for Frank, Jacob turned to find Nolan had already started hobbling down the street. “You planning to eat everything before I get there?”
Pivoting, Nolan walked backward rubbing his hands. “I don’t stand idly by if there’s a lady’s home cooking to be had.”
He knew the look Nolan sported only too well—eating beans every day of the year was no laughing matter.
Jacob picked up his pace, his steps light despite the hours of sleep he’d lost. His days of cold bean eating were over. Life was so much better with a good wife, beautiful children, a hot supper every night, and soon, a ranch.
Once Jacob caught up, Nolan turned to him. “Hope Celia gets off easy.”
The spring in his step went flat. “Don’t know if I want her to get off easy.” She needed to face the consequences or else she might turn out worse. “But I do hope the judge is at least fair.”
“Right, right.”
Talking over the details of the case, they made their way to his house, then tromped up the back stairs together.
When he opened the door, smells not entirely familiar wafted out, but they were still good enough to make his stomach growl.
Annie bustled about in the kitchen alone.
Too bad he’d had to bring Nolan along, for her slender frame called to his arms. How long had it been since he’d held her without her being in tears?
She turned and brightened for a second, but her smile dimmed upon seeing Nolan.
Seems he hadn’t been the only one hoping to find themselves alone. Thankfully she recovered quickly since he wouldn’t want Nolan to feel the least bit slighted.
“Anne, I hope I wasn’t out of line inviting Nolan to lunch.” Jacob pointed Nolan toward a seat.
At Annie’s welcoming nod, Nolan took off his hat and lowered himself into the chair a mite awkwardly considering his wooden leg. “I can’t tell you how nice a woman’s home-cooked meal sounds when you’re a confirmed old bachelor like myself.”
Jacob rolled his eyes. Nolan was quite a bit younger than he was.
Annie’s mouth twitched a little. “I’m not sure ... I mean, I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve prepared. It’s not the usual fare.”
She ladled out a few bowls, spilling some with her unsteady hand.
What was she worried about? “I’m sure whatever you made will be wonderful.”
She slid a strange looking concoction in front of them and bit her lip. “It’s oyster soup.”
Nolan blanched.
Perhaps the ‘ol bachelor’ was wishing he hadn’t accepted the lunch invitation so eagerly.
The man recovered nicely and unfolded his napkin. “I’m sure it will be heavenly, ma’am.”
Jacob reached for his spoon while Annie stared at him like a girl awaiting approval.
He took a taste—not bad. Though nothing he was keen on having again.
Annie hovered as he took another bite. “Do you like it? I’ve never made it before. Never even thought to. Or wanted to. But then, I’ve always just cooked plain fare—which is good, of course—but that’s when things were different, and I wanted to try something fancy, to ... well, it doesn’t exactly matter what anybody else thinks about my cooking, now does it?”
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