He wanted blood.
The judge asked if either side had a statement. To Dan’s surprise, Rosebud said, “Yes.” She stood. “Your Honor, the Lakota have survived smallpox, the iron horse and the United States Army. We survived the Black Hills gold rush, the death of the buffalo and the reservation. We have survived the white man’s schools, his treaties and his greed.”
She was doing it, he marveled, defending her case while Cecil ground her dignity into the dust. Whatever happened between them after this was over, he’d do his damndest to make sure she knew how proud he was of her.
“We have survived…” Her eyes scrunched shut, but her voice remained strong. “Intimidation, murder and blackmail.”
Someone snorted. Dan thought it was Thrasher. Rosebud didn’t appear to hear it. “We, the people of the Red Creek Lakota, have endured in the face of tragedy and horror. But if you allow the Dakota River to be dammed and the land flooded, you will sentence us to a fate worse than personal…” she paused long enough to clear her throat “…embarrassment, a fate worse than death. You will be accomplishing what all white men before you have failed to do—you will be condemning us to oblivion. You will erase the Red Creek tribe.”
A swell of pride surged up in Dan’s chest and managed to block out his simmering rage. Cecil hadn’t beaten her. How could he have ever thought the old man could? She was stronger than that. He ached in ways he hadn’t thought possible. She had to know he loved her, right?
The lawyer representing Dan’s company got up and began to talk in bold, sweeping terms about “progress” and “action.” Dan sat, not moving a muscle, because if he moved, he would lunge, and if he lunged, Yellow Bird would probably shoot him in the butt.
The lawyer droned on and on. All the while, Dan wondered what the hell Carlson was waiting for. Where was he? The website had to have gone live by now—what else did he need?
“I’ve reviewed the case,” Maynard said after the yahoo lawyer finally sat down. “I find that the grounds for a preliminary injunction against Armstrong Hydro are baseless. Judgment for the defendant.”
Time seemed to slow down as the gavel swung. Dan had just enough time to think, this is it, before the courtroom doors slammed open behind him. Suddenly, the number of people in the courtroom jumped as uniformed officers rushed in.
About time, Dan thought, as he shot out of his seat. He had to get to Rosebud. Now.
“What is going on here? Order! Order!” Maynard howled as he banged the gavel.
Dan jumped the barrier, dodging an officer and hoping he wasn’t about to get shot. “Rosebud,” he said as he knelt before her.
Her eyes closed as her head tilted away from him. Nope—she wasn’t going to pull that stoic crap on him, not after everything they’d been through. He hadn’t done anything wrong, damn it. He loved her.
“Look at me,” he ordered. He managed to keep his voice gentle, but only just.
A tall man wearing an expensive suit strode into the room. “Your Honor, James Carlson, special counsel for the Department of Justice. I have a warrant of arrest for Cecil Armstrong.” He handed the warrant to Cecil, who dropped it like it was radioactive.
“A warrant? On what charges?” Wasn’t that just like Cecil, Dan thought. Ballsy to the very end.
Suddenly, shouts of “Get down, get down!” filled the room. A shot rang out. Without thinking, Dan threw his body over Rosebud’s, knocking her off her chair and onto the floor. She grunted as he landed on top of her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, even as he realized it was a dumb question. So he tried again, searching her face. “Are you hurt?”
Her body was stiff under his, and her eyes scrunched shut tight. Maybe her confidence had been more bravado than he’d thought, because she looked like she was about to pass out. Then she said, “Just…tell me when it’s over.”
The pain that racked her voice cut through all Dan’s redness, through the shouting and the sound of furniture scraping and breaking. At that moment, nothing in the world mattered as much as Rosebud. Screw everything—Cecil, the company, the dam—all of it. The only thing he cared about was this woman. His woman.
“I will. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”
Nodding, she swallowed—and turned her face into Dan’s neck. Her whole body curled into his, and suddenly she was right back where she belonged.
For what felt like the first time today, he took a deep breath. “It’s okay,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. She clutched his jacket, pulling him closer. Relief flooded his system. “I’m here. You’re here. You were amazing. Ferocious in the courtroom.”
“I had to,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. “I had to do it for the tribe. For Tanner.” A piece of wood snapped and someone groaned. She shuddered. “Don’t leave me.”
She still needed him. She still trusted him. He pulled her as far into his arms as he could without crushing her. He didn’t know if the gunfire was over or not, but he’d take whatever came his way—anything to keep her safe. “I won’t.”
Shouting was followed by the splintering of more wood giving up the fight, and then there was a moment of awkward calm. Dan hazarded a look over his shoulder.
Yellow Bird had Thrasher on the ground, a knee against his neck. One of them was bleeding, but no one acted like it was fatal. “I’ve been waiting three years to say this, you dog. You’re under arrest for the murder of Tanner Donnelly,” Yellow Bird said through gritted teeth.
Rosebud’s chest heaved against his. “Is it over yet?”
“Almost, babe. Almost.” For her sake, he prayed it was true.
“Bailiff, holster your weapon and clear this courtroom!” Maynard roared. “Now!”
Carlson stepped up to the bench and handed Maynard his own piece of paper. “Your Honor, with all due respect, he can’t do that. You’re under arrest for accepting bribes.”
“Get your hands off me!” It was wrong to find so much satisfaction in the note of terror in Cecil’s voice. But Dan found it anyway. “Dan, do something!”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dan whispered. He gave Rosebud a final squeeze before he rose and pivoted on the balls of his feet. Keeping one hand on her arm, he made sure his body was between her and his uncle. She remained curled against his back as he surveyed the room. The place was in shambles—more like a raid in a drug den than a house of law.
“Dan.” Cecil still sounded defiant.
Dan glanced at his uncle. Cecil’s arms were cuffed behind him. Yellow Bird was just hauling Thrasher to his feet. The bailiff, who had a bloody nose, had his gun trained on that slime-bag. Thrasher must have tried to get the bailiff’s weapon. Even Maynard had his hands up, the sleeves of his robe pooling in his armpits as an officer read him his rights.
“Dan?” Cecil said again. The defiance was fading fast, replaced with stark terror. “Dan, please—I’m your uncle! We’re kin!”
Go on, Dan thought. I want you to beg. But he didn’t say it, because that wasn’t what Rosebud needed to hear. He turned his attention back to her. “It’s safe now,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
A stream of curse words burst out of the old man’s chest, but Dan didn’t pay him any mind. He waited for Rosebud.
It was her move.
Even though Rosebud was behind Dan, he kept his hands on her arms, making sure she was protected. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see if someone had been killed, didn’t want to see Cecil Armstrong or Shane Thrasher. She didn’t want to see any guns, and she didn’t want to see if one was pointed at her or Dan.
For a fleeting, incomprehensible second, she had a powerful urge to click her heels together and say, “There’s no place like home,” as if that would magically make this whole awful week disappear into thin air.
“Ms. Donnelly?” James asked, sounding very much like the lawyer he was now, not the lover he’d once been. “Are you unhurt?”
&nbs
p; Right. James was here. Dan was here. Cecil was here, for God’s sake—unless someone had shot him. No amount of ruby-red slippers would whisk her away from this, so she’d better snap out of it. She let herself breathe in Dan’s scent before she pushed herself away from his back. His hands dropped to his sides.
“Mr. Carlson,” she said.
On one hand, the formality was ridiculous. James had seen her naked, after all, and had probably looked at those photos to boot. On the other hand, the only other person in the world who knew that James had seen her naked was Dan. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, James Carlson and Rosebud Donnelly had gone to law school together—nothing more than that—and she was damn sure going to keep it that way.
She took a second to straighten her skirt and dust off her jacket before she stepped around Dan. That one second gave her a chance to compose herself and put on her game face, something that now felt foreign and stiff. She didn’t feel like the lawyer she used to be. She didn’t want to be a ball-buster anymore. Her life wasn’t her case—the case was over, but she was still standing. Problem was, she didn’t know what else she could do.
Well, first things first, and the first thing was to get the hell out of this courtroom. She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin as she opened her eyes. The extent of the damage immediately made her wish she hadn’t. The courtroom looked like downtown Baghdad. The barrier was crumpled against the first row of spectator seats. The defendant’s table was in about forty pieces. And, of course, there were a few deputies aiming guns with the safeties off.
In the middle stood James. He looked older, his hair already picking up some salt at the temples. He seemed more like a politician now, and with this sort of coup, he’d be in a position to run for office. He’d be good at that, she thought. He smiled at her—not that anyone else could tell, but she knew that when his lips thinned like that, he was pleased. And looking around at three years of his hard work in handcuffs, Rosebud knew he was very pleased.
“Ms. Donnelly, your government thanks you for your patience in this matter,” he said, extending his hand for a formal handshake. “I want to personally thank you for your cooperation.”
“I expect justice to be served,” she said, feeling the barest hint of warmth spread from his hand to hers. He’d never loved her, that she knew. But he’d cared for her. And as he patted the top of her hand, she knew that he still cared for her. “I held up my end of the deal. May I safely assume you held up yours?”
He gave her hand a squeeze, which had the same effect as a comforting hug. “The site was live for one minute before I took it down personally,” he replied. “No one saw.”
Rosebud felt herself breathe for the first time in what felt like days. “I expect it to stay that way.”
“Absolutely.” He glanced toward Dan, the look on his face somewhere between jealous and all business as he gave her hand one last squeeze.
Rosebud got the hint. She turned to Dan and held out her hand. Without hesitation, he laced his fingers with hers and stepped up until he was standing hip-to-hip with her. Immediately, she felt his warmth surround her. She felt safe with him beside her—like nothing bad could happen. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as she said, “Have you met Dan Armstrong?”
“Not in person. Mr. Armstrong,” James said as the two men shook hands. “The Department of Justice owes you a debt of gratitude for everything you’ve done here.”
Rosebud couldn’t help but notice that the grip went on a little too long—and that both men were clenching their jaws. Men, she thought with an inner snort of disgust. Even so, she felt a little flattered, in a primeval sort of way.
A strange noise drew her attention away from Dan and James. It sounded like someone was strangling a cat.
“You did this?” Ah. Cecil Armstrong was all but blue in the face as he sputtered. “You?”
In a flash, Rosebud didn’t so much see as feel the victory. After three long years, justice was served. A sense of righteous power flowed through her. She’d won. All it had cost her was…everything. Her brother, her life for all those years, her dignity…
The righteousness was short-lived. So she’d won.
Now what?
Then Dan settled his hand around her waist and pulled her in close. “We had a deal, Carlson.”
“So we did.” James’s eyes cut from Dan back to Rosebud. “You have my word.”
Dan shook his hand again as Cecil went from bluish to a bruised purple. Not that Dan noticed. He was focused on James. “Do you need either of us for anything else?”
“I think we’re good. We’ve got the box.”
“You!” Cecil was stuck on the one word, apparently. Good, Rosebud thought. He could just be stuck—for the rest of his life. He went well past conniption fit and into hysterics.
Dan had been working with James. He’d been working against Cecil. Somehow, in the midst of her embarrassment and turmoil, she’d gotten things wrong. Dan hadn’t set her up—far from it. He’d been with her the whole time. He’d stuck to the plan, just like he’d said he would. After all, he was a man of his word. The back of her neck flushed hot.
“Where can I reach you?” James asked, also ignoring the impotent old man in shackles. Because that’s what Cecil was now. Dan was right. Cecil Armstrong couldn’t hurt her anymore, not as long as Dan was by her side.
Dan let go of her waist long enough to fish out his card. Two, actually. “That’s my cell, and the other one is Betty Armstrong’s home number. She’s my mother. You can reach me and Rosebud there.”
“Wait, what?” His mother was in Texas. Suddenly, Rosebud didn’t know what was happening again.
Dan looked down at her and grinned. His hand wrapped around hers. Rosebud felt the flush spread all the way down her back. “I promised her I wouldn’t marry you before she met you, so I thought we’d better get that out of the way, real quicklike.” He turned his attention back to James. “We can go to Texas, right?”
Dan was going take her to meet his mother. He was going to marry her—real quicklike. “If you want to go to Texas,” he added, his voice dropping several notches as his fingers tightened around her hand. “Do you want to go with me?”
James regarded them both with a stern eye. “Ms. Donnelly, we will not be pressing charges against Dan Armstrong. We believe he had no knowledge in any of Cecil Armstrong’s illicit activities.”
Somewhere in the next world, Tanner was nodding with approval.
Dan hadn’t known about the photos. Dan had nothing to do with that awful website. Dan, she knew now, deep in her soul, hadn’t set her up.
Dan wanted to marry her.
James cleared his throat. “Ms. Donnelly, do you want to go to Texas with Mr. Armstrong?” Nothing like a little cross-examination during the most important moment of her life.
Everyone in what remained of the courtroom stood silent. Even Cecil Armstrong was quiet, his mouth wordlessly opening and shutting as the world waited on her answer.
“Come with me,” Dan whispered. “Just you and me. Dan and Rosebud. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
She closed her eyes and breathed. Sandalwood and musk— Dan’s scent—filled her nose. Her hand found his chest and she felt his heart pounding. She knew if she leaned forward just a little, she’d be able to taste his breath with a kiss.
She leaned against Dan’s chest, letting a flush steal over her body.
Just Dan and Rosebud.
Right now, that was all she wanted, too.
“Mr. Carlson, if you need me, I’ll be in Texas.”
Epilogue
In December, Shane Thrasher pled guilty to first-degree manslaughter, among other charges, and was sentenced to twenty-five years in jail, with the possibility of parole. In exchange for his plea, he testified about the work he’d done for Cecil Armstrong for four years. He was on the stand for six days.
Almost a yea
r later, Cecil Armstrong was convicted of racketeering, bribing officials and conspiracy to commit murder, among other charges. He was sentenced to thirty-five years in prison without the possibility of parole, which, given the fact that he was seventy-three at the time, amounted to a life sentence. An audit of his books had revealed he’d misappropriated millions of Armstrong Holdings’ funds in his pursuit of beachfront property in the middle of South Dakota. However, he never offered up any justification for his actions.
The only member of the Armstrong family in court that day was Betty Armstrong. She held hands with Emily Mankiller as the sentence was handed down. Both women were escorted from the courtroom by Thomas Yellow Bird and offered no comment to the throngs of reporters waiting outside.
The sensationalist nationwide coverage of the trial led to a measurable uptick of visitors to the Historic Bonneau Homestead and Museum, former headquarters of Armstrong Hydro. The museum’s curator and caretaker, Maria Villerreal, reported that, on average, a hundred visitors a day were coming to listen to her tours. Her sons made pocket money selling homemade cookies and lemonade. On the day her former boss was sentenced, no fewer than thirty reporters crowded the house. Maria gave them all brownies, but not a comment on the trial or her current employers.
Dan Armstrong was too busy to attend the trial, except on days when he was called to testify. He divided his time between Armstrong Petroleum in Witchita Falls, Texas, and Armstrong Hydro in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. At the time of the sentencing, he was busy supervising construction of the Red Creek dam, a run-of-river dam on the Dakota ten miles south of the Red Creek Indian reservation. The Red Creek tribe owned half the dam, and more than half of the workers were members of the tribe. Joe White Thunder was out there with them, swinging a hammer in time like he was beating a drum.
Rosebud Armstrong chose to avoid the lengthy trial entirely. Instead, she focused her efforts on joining an ongoing multitribal lawsuit against the Bureau of Indian Affairs for mismanagement of tribal funds. The case had already made it through the U.S. Court of Appeals on its way to the Supreme Court, where Rosebud became the first woman from her tribe to argue—and win—a case before the High Court. She discovered a renewed passion for the law, now that her life no longer depended on the outcome. She began to enjoy herself again.
A Man of His Word Page 16
