If only Jock Jr. were here. Her oldest brother would have talked his way around that judge with ease, and this whole McCutcheon mess would have been avoided. Tomorrow, she and Noah would have boarded the train bound for Santa Fe, and been home in a few days. As things stood now, she didn’t know what to expect.
She shot a heated glance in Noah’s direction. She couldn’t wait to box his ears for getting into this mess in the first place.
Why can’t he just stay in the dormitory where he belongs?
Her youngest brother leaned against the wall with the rest of the prisoners. He wasn’t like her other brothers—rough and sturdy, and happy riding the ranch. Noah was all quick energy and cleverness, and she hurt to see him in shackles. And now he was sentenced to penal servitude with the McCutcheons.
She hadn’t seen either of the McCutcheon brothers since she was a skinny girl of ten, peeking out from under an oversized, droopy brown hat as she sat her horse in the dusty stockyards in Kansas City. Forbidden to ride in the yearly cattle drive by her father, and ordered to stay home with her two younger brothers and the hired help, she’d taken matters into her own hands. She’d hidden away behind a large sack of potatoes in the back of the chuck wagon, enduring the musky air of the cramped storage bin from sunup until they stopped the jarring ride to make camp. At night, she sneaked out to relieve herself and drink water.
Cook discovered her in the dawning of day three, hungry and needing to stretch her badly cramped legs. By then, they’d traveled too far to send her home.
Sucking in several lungfuls of cool, clean air, Sidney had known what was coming, and didn’t flinch when her pa grasped her by the arm and marched her behind a stand of trees. He whacked her bottom with his belt more times than she cared to remember.
Her two older brothers, then thirteen and fourteen—who were plenty old enough to earn their keep, as her father was fond of saying—grudgingly brought her a horse and assigned her a shift. If she wanted to ride trail, then she’d pull her own weight.
When their outfit had arrived in Kansas City, Jock Jr. pointed out Dustin and Chaim. They were walking with their father, the man her pa couldn’t abide. Dustin was a year older than Jock Jr. He’d looked stern, even when his younger brother was kidding him. Soon after, she’d been taken to the hotel by her pa and ordered to stay put. After a day and a half of waiting, she’d been collected by Patrick, who recounted a fight between Jock Jr. and Dustin at the corrals.
By the time Sidney lifted her thoughts from the past, she realized the next case in the courthouse was well under way.
The prosecutor laid out the details, and then the defending attorney that had been so useless for Noah called Dustin McCutcheon to the stand.
She tried not to watch as the oldest McCutcheon testified that the defendant, Edward Felton, was at their ranch in Rio Wells on the night the victim of this case was murdered behind a tavern in San Antonio.
Determined not to look at him, Sidney whisked her gaze past the broad-chested cowboy to the window side of the room. From there, she moved her attention to the floor in front of her. When she had exhausted everything to inspect on the filthy tiles, she averted her eyes to the water-stained ceiling, demanding her ears ignore the deepness of the voice speaking.
Minutes crept by as Mr. Wormer whined out his questions. Dustin McCutcheon answered each with the ease of a toe dancer twirling around the dance floor.
Well aware she’d certainly be thought a fool if she continued counting the cracks above her head for one more second, she dropped her gaze to the reticule in her lap—anything to avoid looking at him. She’d heard stories about Dustin from Jock Jr. and Patrick. He commanded attention with each word he spoke.
He answered a few more queries and was dismissed. Chaim, his younger brother, was called next and corroborated the alibi. With the good word of the McCutcheons behind him, Edward Felton was almost certain of being cleared of any wrongdoing.
She glanced at her brother, seven years younger, and compassion dimmed her anger. He’d been such a tiny baby, barely surviving after their mother died in childbirth. He owed his life to the wife of a ranch hand who’d birthed a little boy only eight days before.
Pa had offered the woman twenty dollars a month, a good amount for a wet nurse, to care for him as her own. She’d kept Noah until his first birthday. Sidney remembered how he cried the day she brought him to the big house to stay for good, separated from everything he knew. Inconsolable, he cried for two days straight, the sound battering Sidney’s heart. At least she’d known their mama for seven years. Little Noah had never felt the softness of her hands or heard the gentleness in her voice.
At that time, his rearing fell to her and Carmen, their housekeeper. Sidney remembered giving him a bottle, bathing him, and rubbing bacon grease on his raw bottom. He’d been a bright baby, so curious and intelligent, and he’d grown into a smart young man. He was doing so well in his engineering studies—why couldn’t he just stick to his schoolwork instead of going off on these wild sprees?
As much as she hated to admit the fact now, Noah was irresponsible. After this last escapade, Jock Jr. was certain to pull him out of St. John’s. The last time this happened, he’d threatened to do it, but now he’d be sure to make good on the warning. Being the youngest, Noah had a way of bending their pa to his will and getting his way. But with Jock Jr. that wasn’t so. She cringed thinking of the storm that would descend when the two faced off.
But before he had to face his older brother, Noah would have to get through the time he’d been sentenced to spend among those murderous McCutcheons. Sidney didn’t trust that family any more than she would an advancing scorpion.
Judge Halford banged down his gavel, dismissing the case. The guards ushered Noah through the back door, along with the three hooligans who’d gotten a year. In a rumble of chains, Felton’s leg constraints were removed. The free man hurried out of the courtroom, but not before tossing a thankful grin at the McCutcheons.
The time had come for her to leave as well, but if she turned now, she was sure to come face-to-face with the infamous brothers. How she dreaded that exchange. What should she say? Every night her pa went to sleep cursing the name of their father.
Taking up her reticule, she opened the hook and took several drawn-out moments to find her folded handkerchief. With her eyes downcast, she dabbed at her lips, praying the brothers would be gone by the time she left.
Where has my gumption gone? I need to straighten my spine and hold my head high. I’m a Calhoun, and proud of it.
Taking her own words to heart, she stood, brushed her hands down the front of her skirt, and turned. Thankfully, Dustin and Chaim had already left, as well as the majority of the spectators.
Exiting the courthouse, she headed straight for the hotel, the name Dustin McCutcheon playing over and over in her mind like a mantra. She needed to get a hold of her feelings, and take out Jackson, her dog and traveling companion, to stretch his legs.
Should she go to the telegraph office and send the bad news home? Pa and Jock Jr. were sure to be furious. No, I’ll wait until I can sit and think of what to do next. When I figure out a plan, then I’ll let them know. No use ruffling everyone’s feathers since they couldn’t do anything to help now anyway.
Proceeding down the street, Sidney jerked to a stop when a black cat darted out from an alleyway and traversed the boardwalk in front of her. She watched the feline scamper to the top of a stack of crates and disappear. I don’t want to cross that path. I can’t deal with any more bad luck. Since the hotel was on the opposite side of the street, she’d cross now and avoid the cat problem altogether.
Glancing both ways, Sidney hurried to the other side, dodging a few riders and a wagon. Rounding the corner, she spotted Mission San José y San Miguel de Aguayo. Enormous plants with velvety-soft-looking leaves and bright pink and lavender blossoms colored the whitewashed walls.
She stopped for a moment to enjoy the beauty. The bells of the mission rang
out three times. Feathery white clouds covering the sky made the creamy ivory of the structure stand out all the more.
Her soul stirred, longing for something she didn’t recognize. A gust of warm wind caressed her face, bringing with it a sweet scent of jasmine and the sound of laughter from far away. She closed her eyes, the sensation transporting her away from her all-male family, the struggles of dealing with an angry, broken father, and the daily business of ranching.
Giggling brought her around. A woman with two small children, one in each arm, walked behind her. The little tykes—girls or boys, she couldn’t tell—were dressed in rags. All three were rail thin.
Sidney couldn’t abide an empty stomach on a child. In Santa Fe, she volunteered at the orphanage, organizing fundraisers and helping out in the kitchen.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sidney said in a soft voice, bringing the woman out of her thoughts. “Are you from around here?”
Both children buried their heads in their mama’s neck as she said, “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“I’ve gotten a bit turned around. I’m looking for the Omni La Mansion del Rio Hotel.” She hoped the small fib wouldn’t get her in trouble with God. “My slippers aren’t really made for walking.” She lifted her hem to display the flimsy shoes that went with her best dress. In truth, she’d be glad to get back into her boots.
A smile made the woman’s eyes come alive. “Why, you’re almost there, miss. Just keep going along this route.” She pointed with her chin since both her arms were full. “Once you pass St. Mary’s Church, turn left on Crockett Street. You can’t miss it.”
When Sidney lifted her reticule, she saw the woman quickly look away. Taking charity wasn’t easy for anyone.
“I’d like to thank you for your kindness.”
The woman dropped her gaze to the ground. “Thank you, miss. My boys haven’t eaten yet today.”
Sidney did a quick count of the money in her bag. If her travels after Noah had taught her one thing, it was to bring extra money for unexpected happenings. Even if she were generous today, she’d still have plenty of funds for whatever should come her way.
She stepped close and opened her palm to show the woman two ten-dollar gold coins. “Do you have a safe place where you can hide this? Twenty dollars should keep you and your little ones fed for quite some time.”
“Yes, miss!” The woman’s throat worked as she swallowed several times. “Once I eat and am strong again, I can get my old job back at the wash house.” Her eyes glistened. “I promise I won’t waste your money. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad we met.”
And she was. To be able to lend a helping hand was a privilege, something Sidney enjoyed. Now she just had to figure out how to keep Noah from making his situation worse.
Chapter Four
Finally at the hotel, Sidney pulled open the door and almost bumped into Dustin McCutcheon on his way out.
Can my luck get any worse?
She felt duped. In the mercantile, the butterflies their brief conversation had created were like the first sunshine of spring after a long winter. She’d liked him. His gaze had pulled her in like a fish on the line.
Scowling at him, she said, “Why didn’t you say who you were when I saw you in the store?”
He removed his hat and held it in his hands. His dark wavy hair needed a trim, and black stubble covered his strong square jaw.
“You didn’t give me a chance. I was getting around to that when you hurried off like a scared little rabbit.”
She stiffened. The whalebone of her corset tightened around her, and she wished she hadn’t dressed in her snuggest and most proper Sunday gown to make a good impression on the judge. Fat lot of good that had done her.
“But now,” he continued, “since we’ve not been properly introduced, I say we fix that.”
“Properly introduced?” She couldn’t stop an indignant huff from passing through her lips. “Why would we be? Our families hate each other.”
She shouldn’t be so snappish. He was Noah’s guardian, after all.
His face darkened.
“Besides . . . ,” she went on, unable to stem her growing enmity. “I’m sure you have no desire to meet a scared little rabbit.”
She glanced around, wondering where Chaim—the friendlier-looking of the two—had gone. People milled around the lobby, but she was only aware of Dustin and his proximity.
Dustin’s smile faded, his mouth pulling into a straight, hard line. “Hate each other? I wouldn’t go that far, Miss Calhoun. Hard feelings exist, but they’re mostly one-sided. McCutcheons don’t hate Calhouns.”
He held out his hand, pressing the point.
She wished she had a rotten fish to oblige. “Of course, you don’t. Your father wasn’t beaten to within an inch of his life and then left to die, now—”
Dustin’s eyes narrowed. His July-hot gaze cut off her sentence and almost nailed her to the wall behind, but he kept his hand outstretched.
She swallowed the rest of the words she was about to dish out and placed her palm in his, ignoring the disturbing warmth that seeped through her glove.
“That’s better,” he said in a smooth, deep voice. “First things first. Miss Calhoun, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Aggravated, she pulled back her hand, anxious to separate herself from his heat.
“Second, my pa had nothing to do with that age-old accusation. He’s tried on numerous occasions to talk sense into your pa, but he won’t listen. We’re sorry that misfortune fell onto Jock Calhoun, but no McCutcheon was responsible.”
He fiddled with his hat. “And with all due respect, I don’t take kindly that you’re throwing around your words now as if they’re fact. They’ve been a constant burr under my pa’s skin. I’d say he’s handled the situation pretty well for how much your family has gone out of their way to keep the falsehood alive.”
“Truths don’t lie.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh and his left eye twitched. “Only in the minds of the Calhouns. If anything your pa had claimed were true, then my father would have been arrested years ago. But he hasn’t. And he won’t be. Time you let the past go.”
Anger flashed hot under Sidney’s skin. How dare he stand there and tell her what to do? She struggled for a retort, but his dark gaze that reminded her of warm chocolate kept distracting her.
Finally, he shrugged. “I think it best we change the subject, don’t you?” His expression softened. “I have to say you gave me quite the surprise in the courtroom today. I’ve been under the incorrect notion all these years that Sidney Calhoun was a man.”
A cocky grin grew across his face. “I’d totally forgotten the family had any female Calhouns besides your mother. I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting the men,” he said, relaying his message loud and clear. “And that still stings. Guess I was wrong.”
She’d like to slap that smug grin right off his face. And she could too, if she weren’t still trussed up in this air-constricting garment of torture.
“Guess you were,” she replied as genteel as a debutante at her coming-out party. She curled her lips into a pleasant smile. “I am the only female in my family. My mother passed on years ago.”
Raw-edged hurt made her breath hitch. Even after all these years, she still missed her mother deeply.
Dustin’s chuckle faded away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Let me offer my condolences.”
She waved off his sympathies and squared her shoulders. “Not your concern, Mr. McCutcheon.”
“Contrary to what I’m sure you’ve been told, I don’t bite, so you can put away your claws.”
She lifted her chin, thinking about her pa and the limited mobility that kept him homebound much of the time. How his head only turned partially to the right. How pain radiated through him when he mounted his horse. At times, she had to hide her tears, so not to bring him shame. His spirit was nearly as broken as his body.
“I don’t
really care if you do bite, Mr. McCutcheon. I can see you were enjoying my brother’s misfortune inside the courthouse today more than you’d like to let on.”
“There’s not one shred of truth in that statement. I wish no ill will on Noah or any of your family, for that matter—not even your father.”
Sidney ignored how soft his eyes had gone. He acted as if he believed what he was saying, but she knew better. The McCutcheons hadn’t gotten where they were today without telling a few lies or walking on a few friends. Maybe Dustin was telling the truth; she didn’t know. But they wouldn’t dare try anything while she was around.
That was the answer! She would go to Rio Wells too and would protect Noah, if she could.
Squaring her shoulders, she said, “There’s been way too much bad blood between our families for us to be anything but adversaries—we’re like fire and ice. We certainly can’t be friends. I’ll get through this debacle the best I can, but I won’t enjoy a minute of it. You’d best know that right off.”
His smile vanished. “You? Get through what? Your brother is the one coming out to the Rim Rock. Judge didn’t say a word about his sister.”
“You don’t think I’d send Noah into the enemy camp alone, do you? He’s only seventeen years old. Just a baby. What kind of people are you McCutcheons, anyway? Did you really think I’d just go home, leaving his welfare to you—so you couldn’t be held accountable if anything happened to him?”
Dustin straightened.
She thought him as tall as Jock Jr. and maybe even taller. His scowl almost made her turn and run.
“Well?” she persisted.
“The McCutcheons are good people, despite what you’ve been told. But I’ll be patient and understand your concern since you’re Noah’s sister.” He gave her a pointed look. Any trace of friendliness that had been in his tone was now gone. “Sounds like he makes a habit of getting into trouble. I don’t want him causing problems with my men.”
Texas Lonesome Page 3
