“So you were outside. You had no hand in the actual shooting.”
“That’s correct, sir. But if I hadn’t written the letter, Marshal McCarthy wouldn’t have been there, and he wouldn’t have been killed.”
“I see.” He scratched some words on the paper again, then set his quill down and leaned back in his chair. “As you boys know, your father and I often discussed how best to serve justice. It was his belief that punishments should fit the crime.”
The four brothers all nodded.
The judge looked at Quinn. “You’ve returned the gold stolen from the Army payroll. What happened to the cash?”
Lacy started to answer but Quinn squeezed her shoulders in a signal to remain silent.
“It was lost in a fire, sir,” he replied.
Lacy blinked at the half-truth. Why didn’t he tell the judge she’d burned it?
“I see. Well, nothing lost there. The Army will just have to ask for more from Washington.”
The men in the room laughed and some of the tension seemed to seep from them. It was all so civil. Lacy tried hard to understand what was going on. Why weren’t they demanding she be tossed in a cell?
“Miss Lacy, you don’t deny participating in the robbery?”
“Your honor,” Ian spoke. “We’ve established she was there under false circumstances. We also know she never entered the bank, nor did she shoot anyone. In fact, the letter she wrote Cap shows she tried to stop the robbery before it began.”
“I see. You’ve made up your minds to defend her then?” The judge looked at all four brothers in turn, each one nodding his agreement. “Quinn, you and Dakota also told me Miss Lacy has already been punished for her part in this crime?”
Punished? What was he talking about?
“Yes sir. Devil Morgan whipped her for taking the gold and hiding it from him.”
Dear God. They’d told him about that?
Heat flushed her cheeks.
“I hate to ask, but do you have proof of this or am I just to take your word for it?”
“We have proof.”
No. Quinn couldn’t ask that of her. Or did he mean to add humiliation to her punishment?
“Lacy?” Quinn moved in front of her and took her hand. He tugged enough to get her to stand.
Her legs wobbled and he held her by her arms as he turned her to face him, her back to the others.
“It will be all right, darlin’.” His voice was soft and the term of endearment the first he’d given her since her lie was uncovered. “Trust me.”
She lifted her eyes to stare once more into his crystal blue gaze, not daring to hope at the warmth she saw there.
“Unbutton your blouse.”
Her fingers obeyed his gentle command as if it were as natural as breathing to her. Once she’d finished, he opened the silk ties of her camisole and eased the material from her shoulders and back, pressing her front to his chest to hide her naked breasts from the others’ eyes. Protecting her.
“Damn.”
“Bastard.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” the judge growled out.
Quinn waited a few minutes, making sure they’d seen the old scars beneath the large angry welt left by the recent lashing in the valley. When Dakota nodded that they had, he eased her clothes back on, shooing her shaking fingers away as he refastened the camisole then the blouse.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff with emotion.
She nodded, afraid to speak, as the words might come out in a sob.
“That’s my girl.” He stroked her cheek then helped her back into her chair.
She stared at her hands folded in her lap, trying to take strength from the feel of Quinn’s hands on her shoulders and his presence behind her once more.
For several minutes the pen scratching on parchment was again the only sound in the somber room.
Judge Parks laid the pen aside, cleared his throat, then looked directly at Lacy. “Young lady, it appears you have indeed been punished for whatever involvement you had in the Cheyenne Bank robbery and the deaths that ensued, even that of Marshal McCarthy. Although Anson would’ve agreed with me, your punishment far exceeded your crime. In fact, you didn’t deserve that torture at all.”
She started to protest but Quinn squeezed her shoulders to remain silent again.
“Your honor, if I may speak in Miss Lacy’s defense?” Ian said casually from his chair.
“Of course, when have I ever been able to stop you?” the judge said, a spark of humor in his eyes.
“Since my brothers did recover the gold from the payroll and ended Devil Morgan’s reign of robbery and murder in the territory not only with Miss Lacy’s assistance but solely because of it, perhaps any charges that might’ve been issued against her should be dropped.” He nodded toward the burlap bag lying on the corner of the judge’s desk. “And as there was a reward for both the return of the payroll and the capture of Devil Morgan’s gang, we feel,” he indicated all the brothers, “that reward should go to Miss Lacy for her efforts.”
“Oh no,” she started to interrupt, but again Quinn squeezed her shoulders, harder this time to stop her protest.
“For once, Ian, I concur with your argument.” The judge and the brothers laughed. He stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of Lacy. He lifted her hand in his older but firm grasp. “Young lady, the people of Wyoming Territory are indeed in your debt, and you can rest assured that the charges against you in the case of the Cheyenne robbery and murders have been dropped.”
“Truly?” An ache of joy filled her heart, but she didn’t dare hope it was true.
He chuckled and patted her hand. “Truly. And as Mr. Smith has so eloquently pointed out, the reward offered by the Army and the government is all yours.”
Stunned, she could only smile. “Thank you.”
He lifted a pouch of coins from his desk and placed them in her hands. “This reward definitely belongs to you. And might I say, it has been an honor meeting a young lady with your courage.”
The brothers gathered round to kiss her cheek and thank her for her part in bringing Cap’s murderers to justice before filing out, followed by the judge, leaving Lacy and Quinn alone.
After the door clicked shut, she stared at the small bag in her lap.
“Lacy?”
She looked up to see Quinn kneeling on one knee before her. “What do I do now?”
“With the money? It’s a large amount. You could live comfortably for years if you spend it wisely.”
“No, I mean with my life. I spent so many years trying to avoid Devil and his men, now they’re gone and I don’t know what to do.”
“You could travel. See the world.”
“By myself?”
He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I’d be happy to go with you, if you’d let me.”
“Have I ever been able to stop you?”
He leaned in and kissed her softly, then looked at her, concern etching the lines around his eyes. “First, I need to beg your forgiveness, darlin’.”
“My forgiveness?”
“I used you to get what I wanted, without thinking of the cost to you.” He stopped her protest with a finger to her lips. “You tried to warn me what would happen, but I put my need for vengeance above your welfare. My arrogance got you injured and nearly killed. Cap taught us a man should never risk those he loves.”
Loves? She blinked back the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. “You love me?”
“Somewhere along the trail to Devil’s valley, you worked your way into my heart. I fought it as much as I could, trying to stay focused on finding Cap’s killers. Hearing the news about the letter shocked me into handing you over to your worst nightmare.” He gave her a soft smile. “When I saw you strapped to that pole, I knew I’d do anything to save you, to protect you.”
“But you were so angry with me over the letter.”
“Yes. Because I’d thought you didn’t trust me about the letter, not be
cause you’d written it. I’d known for some time you’d been used by Devil and Santos. I knew you weren’t responsible for Cap’s murder.” He kissed her again, letting the heat build between them, then pulled away. “I expect you never to fail to tell me something so important ever again, but I can’t imagine living another day without you beside me.”
Her heart swelled in her chest and she realized the man before her was exactly what she wanted in her future. Letting hope and love rule her heart for once, she took a leap of faith. “The day you rode into Beaver Run, I knew my life would change. You taught me things about myself I didn’t even know.”
“That you like to be controlled during sex?” he asked, a twinkle of mischief in his rogue eyes.
“Yes. And that by obeying you and bringing you pleasure, I also bring myself more pleasure. That I can also make you lose control when I do.”
“That you do, darlin’.”
“You asked me over and over to trust you. And I did. Mama always said, you can’t give trust without love.”
The joy that filled his eyes let her know just how loved she was.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a gold band with an emerald stone. “I asked Ian to pick this up on his way into town. This reminds me of your beautiful eyes. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I promise to love and protect you forever.”
She studied his face a moment, then held out her hand for the ring and gave him a mischievous smile of her own. “Does this mean you won’t want me just as a sex slave anymore?”
“Oh, I’ll always want you as that. I plan to teach you more ways to please me, kitten,” he said, slipping the ring on her finger. Then he stood and pulled her into his arms for a long, deep kiss.
“What about Dakota?” she asked when they broke apart.
“Would you want to be shared with him on occasion?”
“If it pleases you,” she replied, kissing him softly and trying to ignore the warmth spreading over her at the idea of being used by both men.
“Then we’ll have to plan on that.” He reached over and locked the door to the judge’s office. Then he scooped her up and carried her to the desk. “If you’re a very, very good girl.”
The End
About the Author
Award-winning author Suzanne Ferrell often daydreamed of faraway places, dangerous situations and strong, sexy men. When she picked up her pen to write her first novel, little did she know how powerful those dreams could be.
A lover of Westerns from a young age, Suzanne creates heroes who stand tall in the saddle in the face of danger, living and loving by their own code of honor. Lucky are the women who find themselves at the center of their passions
Born and raised in the Midwest, it took Suzanne a few years to get to Texas, the land of her favorite heroes. Now that she’s here it feels like home to her, her husband and her mixed-breed dog, Rocky.
Suzanne welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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