Fritz plastered on an impassive face and greeted the eldest Miss Walsh—no, she was Missus now, but her last name escaped him. “Miss Rebecca, it’s good to see you.”
She gave him a distracted greeting and looked beyond him. “Lydia, what’s going on?”
Nothing need come from his ill humor. Lydia’s sister would not try to stop them, Fritz was sure. He answered with a smile on his face. “We were going for a ride and came by for some horses.”
“This early in the morning?” Instead of looking at them, Rebecca directed her question to the man standing next to her.
Fritz was keenly aware of the man’s competence and the rifle he held loosely. Fritz scuffed the toe of his boot in the ground and considered his options. Making a run for it might get one of them hurt, but if they didn’t, Sheriff Vic would be called to escort them to jail. This man would not be easily fooled.
Even as the thought formed, the man spoke. “Rebecca, tell Noah to fetch the sheriff. I heard her tell someone yesterday that Mr. Brokken was confined to his home until further notice. We’ll see what she has to say about this.”
Miss Rebecca took only a couple of steps. Noah must have been watching from the window for he emerged from the house and met his sister. She spoke a few words to him, and he sprinted away.
THE SKY WAS GROWING lighter, although the gray rain still fell. Lydia felt as gray as the dawn. She blamed herself for the fiasco. Maybe if she had not gone into the house before the men arrived, to change into a nice dress to impress Fritz, none of this would have happened. It had probably been her going in and out that had awoken her sister and her brother-in-law.
And if she’d stayed in the pants and shirt borrowed from her brother, she would have done a better job of bringing the mule out than Fritz had done. She’d seen the look on his face when he’d caught sight of Chance kissing his sister. As angry as he already was with Mr. Hale, that exhibition had made him act foolishly.
A chill ran over her. When Fritz found out that it was she who’d fetched Deborah, he was going to be furious with her. And his was not the only anger she had to face.
Rebecca rounded on her with narrowed eyes. “Were you helping them, Lydia?”
Lydia licked her lips and linked her hands. Thankfully, Jake saved her.
He touched her sister’s arm and shook his head, taking the lead in an efficient manner. “We’ll deal with that later. Rebecca, get the horses. Lydia, hold the lantern.” Lydia and her sister hurried to obey, and then Jake cocked the gun.
Fritz held up a hand. “There’s no need for that. Put the gun away.”
Jake shook his head. “Not until the sheriff gets here. You three drop your gun belts and move over to that wall. Miss Brokken, please join me over here.”
Deborah slowly released Chance’s hand before she obeyed Jake. The three men complied quickly, and then they waited in silence until Noah arrived back with the sheriff.
The sky was so low that one touch would have caused it to crumple and fall upon them, engulf them in its darkness.
For a moment, the sheriff glanced from one to another in the light of the lantern. The fury in her eyes landed on her lastly, scorching Lydia’s cheeks with fire.
The sheriff dealt with her and Deborah first. “Rebecca, take these girls inside. Please keep an eye on them—they are not to be trusted. Jake, I’d appreciate if you’d walk these three men to the jail. I’ll be right beside you. Too bad I only have one pair of handcuffs with me. Reckon you get the honor, Fritz.”
Lydia bit her lip, and her feet refused to move. Rebecca took her arm, dragging her along, and motioned for Deborah and Noah to follow. The ladies and Noah entered the house, and Lydia gave one last glance over her shoulder. The men had begun moving down the street. The sheriff and Jake walked behind. No one looked in her direction.
Rebecca pulled her into the house and firmly closed the door behind them.
Chapter Eight
Fritz leaned against the wall at the back of the cell, his arms crossed. “I told you not to bring Chance in on this.”
Klint, on a cot in the cell next to him, glanced at Chance on the other cot and then to Fritz. “What do you mean? It was your own fool self who wanted to take the mule.”
Yes, it was his own fool self, but if Chance had not spoken against it, he probably would have decided it was a foolish thing on his own.
The wall became a punching bag. Solid oak didn’t give and left his knuckles throbbing. He flopped on his cot and stared at the ceiling. They’d been so close to making a clean getaway—just hop in the saddle and go. His temper had again landed him back to square one. No, not square one. He’d been kicked completely off the board.
His brothers would be executed by the time he got out of this cell. Despair washed over him. There was no getting out, no reprieve for the anguish in his soul.
Sheriff Vic had left them to send a telegram to the circuit judge. Fritz tamped down the panic and considered his options.
The bank’s money was safely hidden. Perhaps if he told the judge that he’d return the money, he would go easy on him, give him a shorter prison sentence. He hated he’d brought Klint in this with him. The only bright spot was Chance would go to prison, too. With any luck, Deborah would be married by the time Chance got out.
Would his sister blame him for this mess? For the death of their brothers? Of course she would. It was but one more bit of guilt to drag along behind him.
His throat tightened, and he kept the tears at bay by getting up and punching the wall again and again, not stopping until his knuckles bled.
Klint chastised him, and finally his friend’s words penetrated, or maybe it was the pain, and he stopped. When he turned to face Klint, Chance had stood up, too, and surveyed him solemnly.
“What are you looking at?” Fritz snarled.
Chance tilted his head, and those disturbing eyes of his, as gray and dark as the cloudy sky outside, seemed to see right through him. “What’s going on with Deb’s brothers?”
Klint nodded his encouragement. “It won’t hurt to explain, now that our plans have been interrupted.”
Fritz considered their words and shrugged. “My brothers are currently incarcerated in a Mexican prison and face execution.”
“To save one’s brothers sounds a worthy endeavor.” Chance’s eyes bored into him. “But why are they incarcerated?”
“The why doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” Fritz flopped on his cot as Sheriff Vic returned.
She brought the stool with her, planting it right outside of Fritz’s cell. Without preamble, she spoke. “Start talking.”
Fritz’s lips twisted into a lopsided smile. “I have nothing to say, Sheriff, except that we were going for a morning ride.”
“You’re funny, Fritz Brokken.” She gained her feet and came closer to the cell, pointing a finger at him. “You find it funny you are breaking your sister’s heart? Find it funny you got these two men in trouble? Funny for doing God knows what? Your father would be ashamed.”
He tilted his head, laughed harshly, and then shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
The sheriff sighed heavily. “I’ve known you for a long time. I would never have expected this of you. Breaking your sister’s heart, not to mention Lydia’s, and acting like you don’t even care.”
He got to his feet, crossed his arms, and scuffed the toe of his boot against the rough floor. He pressed his lips together, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
“If you won’t talk, maybe I can get something out of these two yahoos.” She picked up the stool and placed it in front of the other cell. “Chance, let’s start with you. Deborah is crying her eyes out right now. Tell me why you were helping Fritz to escape.”
“Escape? I didn’t know he was under arrest. We were going for a ride, like he told you. Klint told us he’d spotted some quail down by the lake. Sounded like a mess of quail would be good for supper.” His eyes were round and innocent.
&
nbsp; Fritz startled and stilled at the lie, not wanting to draw the sheriff’s attention.
She scoffed. “Is that right? In this rain? And you had three horses saddled and with enough provisions for two weeks? All to hunt quail?”
“Yes, ma’am. You can’t ever be overly prepared when you go hunting.” If Fritz didn’t know better, a hint of amusement tinged Chance’s words.
She tilted her head and frowned. “You do realize, since the Brokken brothers robbed the bank—oh...” She turned to fully face Fritz. “By the way, I just received a telegram from New York. It said no one fitting your description has been seen anywhere near the New York Stock Exchange, not during the last few months. And that name of the man you apprenticed with, Daniel Fitzgerald? He does not live at the address you gave me. Heck, there’s not even a house there.”
Fritz shrugged “Perhaps I was mistaken.”
The sheriff’s attention returned to Chance. “Y’all do know I am trying to help you. Tell me the truth so I can do that. If you don’t, Chance, there’s a good possibility you’ll be serving time. Fritz is going to be charged with bank robbery, since his story doesn’t hold water. You and Klint, it could be argued, aided him in his attempted jail break.”
Fritz snorted, drawing her attention. “I wasn’t in jail.”
The sheriff shot him a glare. “You were under house arrest. I should have chained you to your bed.”
Fritz shrugged. The sheriff turned back to Chance, and her face softened, in a way it never had when she looked at Fritz.
She cleared her throat, and her voice was gentle. “Chance, the town of Brokken was a place for you to start over, to forget your past, and you found a woman who loves you. You’re going to throw that away for the likes of that lying Brokken?” Her thumb motioned in his direction.
Fritz straightened. “Hey! There’s no need to disparage my character.”
She threw him a quick glance. “No, you do a good enough job of that yourself.”
Klint laughed until the sheriff’s glare got through to him. Fritz hid his own wry smile.
She returned to Chance again. “So, what’s it going to be? Fritz is going to be found guilty of bank robbery, and you are going to be caught in the middle of it all. You will be charged as an accessory to a bank robbery, and you’re going to do time for that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. You made it clear. Like I said, Klint wanted to go quail hunting...”
The sheriff let out a sound of disgust. “So be it. You’re going to lose your freedom over this? I thought you had better sense, Chance Hale.”
“I reckon not,” he said softly.
She shook her head and turned to Klint. “Anything to add, Mr. Caper?”
“I only wish to corroborate the story Chance has told. Them damn quail. Wish I’d never seen them.”
She got to her feet heavily, as if a load of bricks had been strapped to her back. “Times like this I wish I had the stomach for torturing. Give me a day or two, and I might develop a taste for it.”
She left, not just the cell area, but they heard her stomping all the way onto the street.
When they heard the outer door click shut, they laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.
LYDIA’S SISTER POKED the wood in the firebox of the woodstove with a savage vengeance, and it responded with jumping flames. The chill in the kitchen dispersed.
Rebecca turned to them, the poker still in her hand, and gestured. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Sheriff Vic threw you in jail. Is that what you want?”
Lydia, seated at the table, linked her fingers together in her lap, and shot a sideways glance to Deborah whose face remained composed. Rebecca had grilled them for what seemed like hours.
Lydia sighed softly. “You know we don’t want to go to jail. I’ve told you, I think five times now, that Mr. Caper asked for three horses. I saddled them and met him this morning. Chance was with him, and then Fritz showed up a few minutes later. That’s all I know.”
Rebecca snorted. “Lydia Marion Walsh, you have never lifted a hand to help at the livery before. What gave you the fool notion to do so now?”
Lydia thinned her lips and spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re going to wake mother if you don’t calm down.”
Rebecca replaced the poker in its place by the stove, took a seat across from Lydia, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve known for months that the Brokken brothers robbed the bank, took the town’s money, and hightailed it for who knows where.”
Deborah raised her head but did not speak.
Pink appeared on Rebecca’s cheeks. “Sorry, Deborah, but it’s the unvarnished truth.”
Deborah nodded. “I understand you’re upset, Rebecca, and we are, too. Whatever Fritz was up to, he never confided in me.”
Lydia knew there was no reason to tell Rebecca about Fritz’s apprenticeship in New York. Gossip flew fast and furious in Brokken, Texas.
Rebecca traced a pattern on the table’s oilcloth. “I like your brother, Deborah, always have. It’s difficult to believe the rumors.”
“What rumors?” Lydia asked, leaning forward.
Rebecca scoffed, and her eyes lost their focus for a moment before she blinked. “Some are outlandish. Some have a ring of truth. Some folks say Deborah’s brothers traveled to Virginia, where her father had hidden a cache of weapons, in order to recover them, to prove that he had not stolen them as has been widely reported.”
“That doesn’t sound too outlandish,” Lydia said.
Rebecca shrugged. Before she spoke again, her cheeks reddened. “Others say they’d gone to California to use the town’s money to open a brothel.”
Lydia shook her head at that. “That’s not true. Have you seen Fritz? He’s lost weight, and, as Mother would say, looks peaked. I don’t think he was somewhere investing in a brothel.”
“My brothers would never do that,” Deborah added. For the first time, emotion infused her cheeks, anger or embarrassment, Lydia didn’t know.
Rebecca waved a hand. “I’m not here to impugn dishonor on the Brokken name.”
Lydia bit her bottom lip. “Too late for that.”
Rebecca got to her feet and opened the door to the firebox to add another piece of wood. She used the edge of her apron to shut the door. Instead of sitting back down, she paced the small kitchen. “The sheriff will be back sooner or later to talk to you. I want to hear the story one more time.”
The chair had become uncomfortable, and Lydia longed to pace the room as her sister was doing. “I visited Deborah, and with one thing and another, it was late when I left. Walking home, I met Mr. Caper. He asked me if I’d have three horses saddled early this morning, and I agreed.”
“And one of them you saddled was Lucky. You knew Deborah was giving that horse to Fritz. Why would you let Mr. Caper have him unless you knew Fritz would be there?”
That was the sticking point that Lydia did not have a ready answer for. She shrugged her shoulders. “One horse looks a lot like another in the early morning.”
“And you didn’t ask Mr. Caper why he needed three horses?”
“I assumed he had his reasons.”
“And why didn’t you tell me all this when you returned last night? You know Jake and I are in charge of the livery and would have taken care of it.”
“I didn’t want to wake you. I told you it was late when I arrived home.”
Rebecca turned to Deborah. “And here’s where you girls need to get your story straight. Deborah happened to be out for an early morning stroll. Heck, it wasn’t even daybreak. Plus, it had already begun to rain.”
Lydia caught Deborah’s eyes and held them for a second. Deborah broke away and glanced down. “Something woke me, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided to get a head start on the day and got up and dressed. I then headed to the bank, to get to work.”
“And you saw your brother and stopped for a chat?”
Deborah raised her head. “Yes, Rebecca. Sheriff V
ic told him not to leave the house. I wondered what was going on.”
“And did he tell you?”
Deborah tilted her chin a notch. “You and Jake came out before he had a chance.”
Lydia glared at her sister. “We’ve had enough of this. Are you working for the sheriff or are you my sister?”
“I am your sister, but I’m trying to help you, to prepare you for the sheriff’s interrogation. Tell the truth. Don’t try to protect Fritz.” Her fist slammed to the table.
Deborah’s cheeks paled. Lydia’s heart felt pierced with a thousand lances. Neither could protect Fritz, as much as they wanted.
Rebecca’s glance traveled to Deborah. “I know he’s your brother, Deborah, but we must arrive at the truth, even if it hurts Fritz.”
Deborah remained silent, and Lydia’s heart went out to her.
Even if Lydia could not protect Fritz, neither would she betray him. Anger tinged her words to her sister. “I am not his judge, and neither are you, Rebecca. You’ve questioned us enough.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes at her sister, as angry as Lydia had ever seen her. “I have one more thing, and you cannot explain this, try as you might. You changed out of your livery work clothes into a dress before Fritz arrived. You’re sweet on him and knew he was on his way. Don’t bother to deny it.”
Lydia didn’t. She blinked away tears and bowed her head to pray.
Chapter Nine
The sheriff arrived after lunch to fetch Lydia and Deborah. By then, Lydia’s mother had prostrations, even after Lydia assured her she’d done nothing wrong. She explained, as much as she could, that the sheriff only wanted to question them. Rebecca stepped in to back her up, and, as angry as Lydia remained, she was grateful for her sister’s help.
Even Sheriff Vic was gentle with her mother and assured her that Lydia was not in trouble even though that was not the whole truth.
It was a short walk to the jail, where Lydia assumed they were heading. Instead, Sheriff Vic led them to a buggy, the Brokken buggy. Isaac was on the seat and jumped down when they approached. Deborah ran to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Tears came to Lydia’s eyes, and she wished she had someone who would comfort her. Deborah cried on his shoulder for but a moment before the sheriff tore her away and motioned to the open door.
Brokken Brother: Novella (Brokken Road Romance Book 5) Page 5
