“I’m sure he will,” Tamsin replied. But her real faith lay in Ash. She kept hoping he’d relent, break her out of jail, and force Henry Steele to confess he’d committed the murder.
Helen leaned close and whispered, “Mr. Zajicek wrote down everything you told him about …” The plump woman stopped and silently mouthed Sarah Steele and Judge Steele. “He intends to question the widow Steele at great length.”
“Thank your husband for me,” Tamsin answered. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
Helen smiled. “Stuff and nonsense, Mrs. MacGreggor. You would have done what you’ve done all along. Any woman who can survive being captured by hostile natives is strong enough to face a jury.”
“Time’s up,” Long called.
Helen murmured a few words of consolation and let the curtain fall across the cell door. Tamsin heard the woman’s footsteps recede and a brief exchange as Helen passed through the outer office.
Despite the smell of chicken drifting from the basket, Tamsin left the food untouched and sat on the metal bunk along the far wall. Outside the window, boys threw stones and shouted catcalls. She ignored them as well. Both her stomach and her mind were uneasy.
Ash had told her that he wasn’t going after Texas Jack, but that didn’t keep her from imagining Ash wounded and bleeding along some lonesome trail, or worse, lying dead. Images of Shiloh trotting into sight with an empty, blood-soaked saddle formed in the back of her mind and made her crazy.
Dimitri’s statement haunted her: “Ashton has honorable intentions toward you.”
Ash hadn’t promised her anything beyond what they’d had. She couldn’t expect more than his friendship. Certainly not marriage. If he’d wanted things to be different, he would have said so by now, wouldn’t he?
If she got out of this mess, she would have to go on to California alone. Doing that would be hard, but not impossible. What she couldn’t face were her fears of never hearing his deep voice or seeing his wicked grin again.
Hours passed. Night fell, and the moon rose.
Ash promised me he’d be back, Tamsin thought as she paced the cell. He wouldn’t break his word. But he had when he left her at Jacob’s cabin. Why would this time be different?
Then she heard the sound of a horse and ran to the window. She pushed the toe of her shoe into the cracked plaster and pulled herself up to peer out through the bars.
A single rider waited there, a tall figure in a plainsman’s hat.
“Ash?”
“Who else were you expectin’?” He chuckled. “Sorry I’m late, darlin’, but I’ve been talking to that cowboy you told me was fired from the Lazy S, Broom Talbot.”
“You found him?”
“Workin’ on a spread east of here. He pretty much backed up your story of what happened that day. He said he threatened Sam but he wouldn’t have killed him.”
“See? It happened just like I told you.”
“I tried to ask Henry Steele, but he won’t talk to me. Either he’s protecting himself or his brother’s wife.”
“Widow.”
“Yeah, widow.”
Tamsin’s fingers ached from holding on to the plaster. “Can you come inside?”
“Not until morning. The office is locked tight as a drum. Joel Long is the deputy on guard duty, but he’s probably asleep.”
“Oh.” She wanted to touch Ash … to have him hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. She would have traded this cell for a mountain campsite, Indians, cougars, and all.
“I brought you something,” he said.
She peered through the shadows, but it was impossible to see more than his silhouette. “A hacksaw?”
He laughed softly.
She heard Shiloh take a few quick steps, and then flowers rained around her face. Surprised, she dropped down to the floor and sat there.
“Tamsin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You brought me flowers?”
“Fireweed and candytuft.”
She swallowed, trying not to cry, as she picked up the scattered wildflowers.
“What’s wrong, Tamsin?”
“Nothing.” Tears stained her face.
I love him, she thought. I really love him.
“Don’t you like them?”
“I can’t see them. It’s dark.”
“The fireweed is about the color of your hair.” His voice was husky, full of emotion. “Candytuft has a yellow center with white petals.”
“Thank you.” She gathered them against her breast.
“We’re going to get you free,” he said. “One way or another, Tamsin. You’re not going to hang.”
“That’s what my lawyer tells me.”
“He’s a good man, darlin’.”
“He said the same about you.”
“Well, I’d best get Shiloh to the stable. He’s had a long ride. I’ll check on Dancer and Fancy for you.”
“You didn’t put them in Edwards’s barn? After what happened before?”
He laughed. “No, I didn’t leave them there. Good night, woman.”
“Good night, Ash.” She waited for him to say the words she wanted to hear more than anything. And when he didn’t, she did. “I love you.”
He didn’t answer.
“I love you,” she called again. She pulled herself up and looked out onto an empty alleyway. “Oh, Ash,” she murmured. Then she dropped to the floor and gathered her flowers again, watering them with her own abundant tears.
Chapter 21
“Ash!” Tamsin sat bolt upright on the wooden bunk. Her heart was racing, and she was visibly trembling. Rubbing her eyes, she got up and went to the barred jail window. She could have sworn she heard a shot, but it was barely light out.
No one seemed to be stirring in the town.
She returned to the bunk and began to unplait her hair. She was fully dressed, which made for a decidedly uncomfortable night. She’d slept poorly, but she couldn’t remember any nightmares, not until the awful dream that woke her.
Tamsin pulled the scratchy wool blanket around her. She felt icy cold, despite the already rising temperature outside. She couldn’t shake off an uneasy feeling that something bad had happened to Ash.
She brushed her hair and pinned it into a knot at the back of her head. She poured water from a tin pitcher into the matching bowl and washed her face. Soon Walker or Deputy Long would come to escort her to the boardinghouse to use the ladies’ bathroom and outhouse. She hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat of the first day’s ordeal.
People had stared at her and called her names. A little boy, no more than eight years old, had spat at her. Back shooter, they’d called her. Murderess!
It seemed the townsfolk weren’t waiting to hear her side in a court of justice. They’d already convicted her in their minds. She hoped none of her accusers would sit on the jury.
Tamsin heard the door to the street open. Shaking the water from her hands, she turned hoping to see Ash or Dimitri.
“Are you comfortable?” Henry Steele’s angry gaze met hers. “We usually don’t go to such pains for a horse thief and murderer.”
“You know I didn’t kill your brother!” Tamsin balled her fingers into fists and glared through the bars at the judge. “Not only didn’t I commit the crime, but I think you know who did.”
Henry Steele scowled. “Your lies are growing thin, woman. And your lawyer’s tricks won’t help you on the stand. You shot my brother in the back for those horses, and you’re going to pay dearly for it.”
She stiffened. “There’s really no point to this conversation, is there? I’d prefer you spoke to Mr. Zajicek until we meet in court.”
“That suits me as well.”
He was barely out of the sheriff’s office before Ash, Dimitri, and Helen came in. Tamsin knew by one look at their faces that they had
bad news. “What is it?”
“Simply appalling,” Mrs. Zajicek murmured.
“Henry Steele is going to preside over my case?”
“Not that either,” Dimitri said. “We’ve heard no word on our request for an unbiased—”
“What, then?” Tamsin persisted.
“It’s that poor boy,” Mrs. Zajicek said. “The one from the stable.”
Tamsin glanced at Ash.
The barrister continued: “I spoke at length with the boy yesterday. He was terrified, but he seemed sympathetic to our case. I’m afraid Javier Chispero won’t be able to testify on your behalf. He’s been found dead.”
“Dead?” Tamsin felt sick. She remembered the boy’s plain brown face and his dark, frightened eyes. “I thought I heard a shot about dawn.”
“The stable owner, your Mr. Edwards, found him this morning in one of the stalls,” Ash said. “It seems there’s been an accident.”
Tamsin sank onto the cot. “What kind of accident?”
Ash’s eyes were hard. “According to Sheriff Walker, the boy fell from the hayloft onto a pitchfork.”
“Poor Javier,” Tamsin said. “Oh, God, I hope it’s not my fault that he’s dead. First Sam Steele, now the boy.”
“But how could you be responsible?” Mrs. Zajicek asked. “You were here in jail. It’s simply a terrible coincidence.”
“It’s no coincidence,” Ash said. “Somebody killed Javier to keep him from telling what he knew about the missing horses.”
“My thoughts exactly, Mrs. MacGreggor,” Dimitri agreed. “All we have to do now is find out who murdered Javier, and that may tell us the identity of Sam Steele’s real killer.”
“If the murderer killed this child, Mrs. MacGreggor may be next,” Helen said. “She’s in great danger.”
“I’ll spend the next week sitting outside this cell,” Ash replied. “No one will get past me to harm her.”
“No,” Dimitri said. “You’re both wrong. Mrs. MacGreggor is as safe as in God’s hands.”
“How so, my dear?” his wife asked.
“The killer wants Mrs. MacGreggor alive and well to stand trial for the crime. Without her, the blame might fall elsewhere.”
“You’re right,” Ash agreed. “I hadn’t thought—”
“If you want to help, I suggest you follow Henry,” Dimitri said. “Shadow his every move. See who he talks to and where he goes.”
“That makes sense to me,” Tamsin said. “I’ve known all along who killed Sam. I just couldn’t convince any of you.”
The day dragged into afternoon and finally evening. Dimitri and his wife brought her supper and told her that Ash was watching the judge as they’d planned.
“I don’t care what they think,” Helen said. “I’m still worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tamsin replied. “At least until the trial. I can’t say that the accommodations are the finest I’ve ever enjoyed, but no one has bothered me.”
“And let’s hope it stays that way,” the older woman said. “Court day can’t come too soon to suit me.”
Sometime after midnight, Tamsin was awakened by coarse male voices and the stamping of feet. Curses and laughter followed, and shortly the deputy entered the cell area carrying a kerosene lamp. “Got company for you, woman.”
Tamsin shielded her eyes from the sudden light as Deputy Joel Long set the lamp on a shelf across from her door.
Sheriff Walker and several loud strangers surged into the hall. Between them, they supported a prisoner in handcuffs. His clothing was torn, his face bruised and bloody. He seemed barely conscious.
Long unlocked the door to the cell across from Tamsin, and Walker shoved the beaten man inside. He fell forward on his knees, retched, and collapsed on his face.
“Reckon you two know each other,” the sheriff said sarcastically to Tamsin.
One of the hard-faced group muttered a crude remark as Long turned the key in the lock. “Don’t get too comfortable in there, Cannon,” the deputy said. “You won’t be there more’n a few hours.”
“Yeah, then we’ll hang the bastard,” one of Walker’s companions said. He was short and stocky with muscular arms and a full black beard. “Maybe both of them.”
“None of that talk,” Walker replied. “This is my jail. Cannon stays here until the proper authorities come up from Pueblo to fetch him. They can hang him down there.”
“What about the woman?” another demanded.
“She’s bound over for trial here. I’m sworn to uphold the law in this county, and by God I’ll do it or know the reason why.”
“Save us a hell of lot of money and time by stringin’ ’em both up tonight,” the bearded man argued.
Tamsin stared at the injured prisoner. Cannon? That wasn’t Cannon. The sheriff had arrested the wrong person. This cowboy was too big, and his hair was too dark.
He moaned, spit out a tooth, and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Blood streamed from his shattered nose, and one eye was swollen shut.
“Who are you?” Tamsin asked.
He swore an oath so foul that it turned her stomach.
“You’re not Jack Cannon.”
“Listen, bitch, when I want something from you, I’ll ask.”
She retreated to the far side of the cell, away from the sickening smell of vomit. “You’re an outlaw, aren’t you? If you’re not Cannon, who are you?”
He raised his head, glaring at her with a single bloodshot eye. “Oh, I’m a Cannon, all right. Jest not the pretty one. I’m his big brother, Boone.” He hawked and spat again. “I know you, woman. You’re that bitch what did Jack wrong back in Nebrasky. I seen ye with him once.”
Frightened, Tamsin turned her back on him and tried to keep down the nausea rising in her throat. She’d put Jack Cannon behind her, and she didn’t want any reminders of her foolhardy association with him.
“Jack’ll be glad to see you, bitch,” Cannon taunted. “He don’t like fancy pieces turnin’ their backs on him.”
She clenched her teeth and tried not to listen.
“He’ll be right pleased.”
“He has nothing to do with me.”
“Tell him that. My little brother’ll be comin’ fer me. He’ll be comin’ soon.”
Tamsin shivered and prayed that Boone was wrong.
An hour before dawn, the urgent ringing of an iron bell startled her from a light doze. She’d slept in brief stretches, crouched in a corner of the cell as far from Boone Cannon as she could get.
“What’s that?” she cried, not realizing that she’d spoken aloud. The lamp had burned out, and in the blackness it took her a moment to realize where she was.
“That’ll be Jack,” Boone cackled. “Told ya he’d come, bitch.”
Tamsin tried to see out the window, but clouds covered the moon, leaving the alley pitch-dark. She felt her way to the front of the cell and began pounding on the bars. “Deputy! Deputy Long! Come here! Quick!”
Outside, the bell pealed frantically.
“Fire!” a man bellowed. “Fire in the church!”
Footsteps clattered past the jail windows.
“Hurry! The school’s goin’ up, too!”
Tamsin continued to shout for the guard. “Long!”
Banging echoed from the front office. “Fire! Open the door! The whole town could burn. It’s real bad! We need more hands!”
“No!” Tamsin screamed.
Joel Long’s sleepy voice was barely audible as the door hinges squeaked. “What can I—”
The deputy’s words twisted to a surprised gasp and then a gargled choking. Something heavy sagged against wood, then hit the floor.
Footfalls grew closer and the inner door to the cell area swung wide.
“Brother? You in here? Light a lamp, damn it. How am I supposed to see anything in here.”
Tamsin went numb.
“Jack! I expected ya to throw a rope on the winder bars and yank ’em out,” Boone said.
“No need, was there? Bring the light, Billy! Billy and me just walked in the front door, all friendly like.”
A circle of yellow light illuminated Jack’s smiling face. “You owe me for this, Boone. Didn’t I warn you about whores and whiskey? If you’d listened to me and stayed out of that saloon, you wouldn’t be in here looking like a slab of beef, would you?”
“Shut up and open the door,” Boone growled.
The second outlaw dangled a ring of keys in one hand, a drawn Colt in the other. “Guess you’re lookin’ for these.”
Tamsin backed to the far wall of the cell.
“Reckon you’ll be glad you come fer me, brother,” Boone said. “Look-ee here.”
Jack’s accomplice, the one he’d called Billy, undid Boone’s lock. Jack came toward Tamsin. “Well, well.” He motioned for Billy to open her cell, too.
“Leave me alone,” Tamsin said.
“Come down in the world, haven’t you, Miss High-and-Mighty?”
“Take him and go,” she pleaded.
“And leave you here to face all the trouble?” He pushed back the door. “Come on, Red.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Tamsin. We haven’t got all night. I’ve got a dead lawman out there, and we can’t wait all night for you to make up your mind.”
“Just go, please.”
Jack shrugged. “That’s your last word?”
“Yes!”
He glanced at the outlaw with the gun. “What’s the rule?”
Boone laughed. “No witnesses.”
“Sorry, Tamsin. I’d like to make an exception for you, but …” He motioned to Billy. “Kill her.”
Tamsin’s heart skipped a beat. “No! I’m coming. Don’t shoot me.”
Jack advanced on her. She shivered but forced herself to come toward him. “You’re certain this time?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ll come.”
He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her close. She gasped but didn’t cry out as he slapped her hard across the face. “I owed you that one,” he reminded her. “That’s your first lesson.”
Blood trickled from Tamsin’s split lip, and it took all her willpower to keep from throwing herself on him and trying to pound his nose as flat as his brother’s.
Judith E French Page 21
