by Sara Orwig
“Damnation! Now I really regret I didn’t get to know her when she moved here. Well, we’ll see.”
Travis felt a swift stab of anger tinged with jealousy. His marriage was falling apart, and Rufus was already half in love with Crystal. He would have yelled at Rufus to get out, but he was Brett’s only chance.
“I’ll go now. You’re paying me, and I want to earn my money.” He turned his back to Travis. “Sheriff!” he yelled.
Travis heard boots scrape the floor and a jingle of keys as Wade appeared.
Travis stepped out, too, and walked down the hall with the two men.
“A crowd is gathering, Rufus,” Wade said. “You’re his attorney and you’re not going to be popular, either. You ought to go out the back door. I had a deputy bring your horse around to the back and I have deputies standing guard all around the building. If you’re leaving, Travis, you ought to go the back, too, although right now, no one outside of this office knows he’s your brother, except Crystal and whomever you’ve told.”
“I’ll stay. If you have to fight off a mob, I want to help.”
Wade nodded. “Can’t say that I won’t welcome you. I’ll swear you in so you’ll be official and no one will wonder. The only connection most folks will see is you’re an Indian and he’s an Indian.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Rufus said. He strode toward the back door while Travis went into the hall and looked out the front. Torches burned outside and he could see men standing in small clusters. Right now everyone was orderly, but that could change fast.
Saturday morning, Crystal gave last instructions as Zachary stood with Turtle River. She had their word they would not let Jacob out of their sight for a minute.
Deputy Larson carried a satchel filled with her things. Sandy-haired Jed Larson was stocky, striding out to the wagon with a rolling gait and climbing up easily. She gave Jacob one last hug and handed him to Turtle River.
Elgin Thomas held out his hand to help her up and then he climbed into the back. Missing Travis, feeling very much alone, she turned to look at Jacob. He waved his tiny hand at her and called goodbye.
“Mama, bye! Bye, Mama!”
She waved back and blew him kisses and thought about her son. He was as much her son as if she had given birth to him. She would tell him about Elizabeth, but Crystal felt as if Jacob were her own. She loved him totally. Just as she loved his father.
While Jed Larson drove, she gazed into the hazy distance and she wondered what lay ahead in Cheyenne. All through the past sleepless night, a premonition of disaster had filled her. With each mile closer that they drew to town, her concern grew. She knew Travis would defend Brett to his death. Tears stung her eyes because she loved her husband desperately.
When they were within sight of the courthouse, her hands were knotted into tight fists. She saw the crowd of men gathered in front of the courthouse. Had Brett survived the night? And had Travis?
Then a shot rang out and the clusters of men suddenly formed one mass, some with guns held high as they stormed the courthouse.
Twenty-one
Jed Larson halted the wagon and Crystal stood up. As the crowd surged toward the courthouse door, Sheriff Hinckel stepped outside and fired his rifle. The blast reverberated in the air and everyone halted.
Deputies with guns drawn poured out behind the sheriff and spread out in front of the courthouse. Her heart missed a beat when she saw the tallest man move to Wade Hinckel’s side. Travis’s black hat was pulled low over his forehead and he stood tall and straight with his rifle in hand. There were angry shouts, but the sheriff quieted the mob.
Slim Tipton was in the crowd. “Hang the redskin!” he yelled, waving a rifle.
“Men, go home, so no one gets hurt. We’ll have a trial Monday morning,” Wade Hinckel shouted.
Monday. He had told her Tuesday! Her thoughts spun. In two days she was going to have to sit as judge for Brett Black Eagle. And her marriage would never be the same. She remembered how she had felt when she’d thought Travis had killed Ellery. She had wanted Travis to hang for the deed. And it wasn’t going to matter to Travis that there would be a jury to render a verdict. He would still hold her just as much responsible since she would preside at the trial.
She watched as the crowd began to disperse; a few men at first, and then gradually the mob broke up. Travis turned his head and gazed in her direction, but she was too far down the street to know whether he was really looking at her.
“Judge, if you’ll sit down, we’ll go ahead.”
She took her seat in the wagon once again, her icy hands clutched tightly together while they rode closer; then she knew for certain that Travis was watching her. Her pulse drummed and she was dismayed at the impasse they had reached. Brett Black Eagle had killed a man. Brett should hang for his crime. And they would have a trial day after tomorrow.
Justice was swift on the frontier, especially when a mob prevailed and there was no trial at all. Even though sunshine spilled over her, she felt chilled to the bone. They rode past the courthouse while men clustered on the street.
“Hang him, Judge!” a man yelled.
She rode, staring straight ahead until she could no longer resist turning her head. She gazed into Travis’s eyes and, even at a distance, she felt his anger and his worry for his brother. She guessed that few knew yet that Brett was Travis’s brother. And she prayed they wouldn’t know. When Brett was sentenced, what would Travis do?
Although she entered the courthouse through the back door, Travis was waiting for her. “Can we talk?”
She nodded, and he fell into step beside her. She was aware of him at her side—his height, his silence, the tension between them. And in spite of their differences, longing tore through her.
As soon as they entered her office, Travis closed the door. Nervous and filled with dread, she removed her bonnet and faced him. She could feel his anger coming in palpable waves across the narrow room, and she remembered that first confrontation she’d had with him. Travis, angered, was formidable; yet beneath all that controlled rage festered pain. He hurt over his brother, and she hurt for Travis. Deep down, below all the other churning emotions, she missed him and the closeness and rapture they had discovered. She loved him, and her love was strong.
“Crystal, get yourself off this case.”
“I can’t,” she said, her voice strained. “Surely you can understand that I don’t want to be the judge for Brett.”
“I can’t understand any damn such thing! You could get off if you wanted to.”
“No,” she replied wearily. His anger was blinding his logic. He should see why she had no choice. “If we delay Brett’s trial, what do you think those men waiting outside will do? Thank goodness, nobody knows you’re his brother. Travis, go back to the ranch.”
“I’ll never do that,” he snapped, “and you wouldn’t either if it were Ellery. Wade said you’re going to stay in town until the trial is over.”
“Yes, I’ll be at the hotel.”
“Then we both have rooms there.”
Startled, she frowned. “You took a room?”
“I want to stay here with Brett. I’m a deputy now, and the sheriff might need me.”
She barely heard the last, focusing on Travis’s taking a room at the hotel and worrying that he might live there for a long time to come. He could easily get Turtle River to run the ranch for him and go back to working all week at the livery stable. However, she didn’t think he would stay away from Jacob.
“Brett’s innocent, Crystal.”
“I know you want to think that. I take it he lived through the night.”
“Yes. He’s tough.”
So are you. She looked at the muscle flexing in his jaw. He was tied in knots over Brett and over the clash between them, although this division could not possibly cause him the anguish she suffered. He had never said he was in love. She had never really known the depth of his feelings. But she knew the depth of her own, and this arrest was destr
oying what was between them.
“In this nation, in any of its territories, a man is innocent until proven guilty.”
“I know that, but they are going to prove him guilty so fast.”
“You shouldn’t jump to that conclusion,” he warned her. “My brother is innocent.”
“Travis, there are witnesses.”
“Virgil and Slim,” Travis said, the utmost contempt in his tone. “How reliable do you think either one of them is?”
Crystal was startled to learn their identity. No one had told her, even though she had just sentenced Virgil. Was it only yesterday?
“They’re not reliable,” she granted, “but they’re also not desperadoes. Your brother is an outlaw.” Why couldn’t Travis see that when a man was on the wrong side of the law, he had to pay for what he had done?
“An outlaw, yes,” Travis replied in a tight voice laced with fury, “but not a murderer. Brett has never lied to me.”
She stared at Travis in exasperation. Neither one of them would ever convince the other. “I hear you hired Rufus.” She longed to cross the room to her husband, just to touch him. He looked tough, all the barriers back between them, a gulf that widened each time they were together. His broad shoulders were a bulwark. She missed him, his strength, all they had had together. The trial was tearing them apart, and before long, it would affect Jacob. Yet the worst was still to come.
“Yes, Rufus took the case. He gave Brett more fair-mindedness than you have,” Travis snapped and whirled. In an instant he had slammed the door behind him.
He was gone so swiftly, it startled her and left an aching void. She stood immobile, recalling every hurtful word he had said. She had no choice. His brother could be lynched.
Getting ready for Monday was a nightmare. She went back to the hotel Saturday night, wishing she had waited until Sunday. The town was in turmoil.
Men mingled in the street in front of the courthouse. They burned torches and gathered in clusters until late in the evening. Although they gradually dispersed, she suspected most of them had gone to saloons, where they might become more unruly than ever.
Sunday, Turtle River rode into town to check on Brett, and when she saw him pass her office, she hurried after him. Dressed in buckskins with his hair in a long braid, Turtle River headed toward the back door, pausing only when she called to him.
“How’s Jacob?”
“He’s fine. Misses his mama, but he’s just fine.”
“And Brett?” she asked, “Are you still treating him?”
“He’s recovering.” Turtle River stared into the distance. “He did not kill Kendrick.”
“You, too?” she asked. Had Turtle River’s loyalty to Travis made him blind to the truth? Could he actually believe Brett innocent?
Turtle River’s dark eyes focused on her. They held none of the chilling anger of Travis’s dark gaze. They were direct, and she knew Turtle River felt strongly about his belief. “The man did not kill.”
“You only have his word.”
“On occasion, a man’s word is sufficient. I will watch little Jacob.” He strode outside, into the mob.
That night she could not sleep, but stood in the darkened hotel room, observing the men that milled in front of the courthouse. Was Travis inside? Or was he here in the hotel only a short distance away from her?
Occasionally, she had seen him from her window. He was tall, easy to spot, his long-legged stride making him noticeable in a crowd. Turtle River had said Brett was better. As she stood in the open window, feeling the swift gusts of wind that carried the smell of rain, she saw Travis once again.
Her pulse jumped as she watched him cover the distance from the hotel to the courthouse. Along with a long, narrow board, his rifle was in his hand. His long legs crossed the ground swiftly until he disappeared inside the courthouse. Deputy Black Eagle. Had he become a deputy so he could wear his revolver into the courthouse when regular citizens could not? The notion made her blood chill.
“No!” she whispered, praying he wouldn’t go wild if Brett were sentenced to hang.
Travis strode down the hall of the courthouse, straight to Crystal’s office. At the door, he paused and looked up and down the hall. Despite the unusual number of deputies, no one paid Travis any heed. He went inside her darkened office and closed the door behind him, letting his eyes adjust to the light.
A heaviness filled him. This was Crystal’s room, her domain, and her scent still clung in the air. Roses. He missed her so much it was shattering. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, remembering her laughter, her kisses.
Groaning, he straightened and moved across the room, but when he reached Crystal’s desk, he stopped and ran his fingers over the smooth wood. This was where she worked; her hands had touched this surface. He had slept only a few hours at a time, and his nerves were ragged. He had gone over and over the possibilities of the trial.
If Brett were found guilty—and Travis expected he would be—Travis had only one course open to him, he would get Brett free and away from Cheyenne.
He clenched his fist. He loved Crystal to the depths of his soul. She was a strong, vital woman and he needed her for life. She was ecstasy in his arms, joy immeasurable. He needed her and loved her, and he had never told her that he loved her. Now it was too late, because he also loved his brother and would not let him hang for a crime he did not commit.
As a deputy, he could carry his revolver into the courtroom, and he had already slipped a pistol to Brett. Indeed, his brother was well-armed, for Turtle River had given him a knife as well.
Travis’s insides knotted at the thought of leaving Crystal … and his son. Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks. He was going to lose the two people he loved most in the whole world, because he couldn’t let his innocent brother hang.
Travis wiped his cheeks. He adored Jacob. And Crystal, who would raise their son. She would give him the right training. He would be able to read and cipher, and he would learn the law when he was grown. She would take care of him, educate him, and adore him.
Travis raked his arm across his face in an effort to control his emotions. Tomorrow, and each day afterwards until the trial concluded, Turtle River would leave Jacob in Zachary’s care and wait with a change of horses just outside Cheyenne. Travis would have two good mounts ready at the back of the courthouse for their escape from town. Once they had exchanged horses, Turtle River would escort Crystal home, where he would help and protect her and care for Jacob. Travis thought about her wide green eyes, her softness.
She would know he would not be back. He wished he had told her he loved her. Just once. She knew it anyway—how could she not know it? Yet he wanted to say the words to her. He looked at her chair. A white linen kerchief lay on her desk and he picked it up, detecting her familiar rose scent. He tucked the kerchief beneath his shirt near his heart. He touched Crystal’s chair.
If only she hadn’t cared about the office of justice of the peace. If only she had been like other women—but then she wouldn’t have been the woman he had fallen in love with. He was running out of time. If he didn’t go, someone might remember seeing him enter Crystal’s office and not come out.
Travis crossed the room quietly. He wore his moccasins and could move without a sound. He wore his Colt revolver with five chambers loaded with cartridges. The revolver was cocked, the hammer on the empty chamber.
Crystal’s office opened into her simple courtroom. He strode to the table where she would sit, and he knelt down. Placing his rifle on the floor beside the board he had brought with him, he leaned beneath the table. He picked up the board and jammed it underneath the table, wedging it against the short six-inch boards that formed table skirts below the tabletop. He carefully laid his rifle on the board.
Crystal’s legs would be beneath the table, but she would never discover the rifle or see the board wedged there to make a narrow shelf for his weapon.
He stood, looking at her chair and seeing her and her big g
reen eyes.
He clenched both fists. He was going to lose Crystal and Jacob this week, for he, too, would become a fugitive. Even if he tried to settle and start a new life, Crystal would not join him. Her adherence to the law was too rigid. Actions were either right or wrong.
Travis retraced his steps through her office and into the hall. He headed for the sheriff’s office, and no one paid any particular attention to him. He was ready for the trial.
Monday, Crystal was up before dawn and dressed with care, tying her hair behind her head. As always, she reached for the black woolen dress that she usually wore to court. Instead, she took the blue woolen. She would be covered with a black robe, so whatever she wore would not show, and the day would be grim enough without wearing more black.
The sky was as stormy as the courthouse with black clouds boiling on the horizon. She was icy, filled with dread. She had loved her job as justice of the peace. It was frontier justice; Cheyenne was only a few thousand people, yet she felt she was helping establish law and order. Now she was going to have to hold the trial for her brother-in-law, for Travis’s brother whom he loved. Would this be the complete destruction of a marriage that had become the most wonderful thing in her life?
Brett’s trial would be quick. A scaffold stood behind the jail, and she was terrified what Travis might do to help his brother.
She wanted to resign and ride home to the haven of the ranch, where Jacob waited. But if she did, the trial would be delayed, with possibly disastrous consequences for Brett. Besides, even if she resigned and rode home, Travis would stay to protect his brother.
The high wind tossed bits of dried grass and dust into the air. Ignoring calls to her from the crowd, she hurried to the courthouse and stepped inside. The moment she entered her office, Wade Hinckel followed her inside and closed the door behind him. His blue eyes were filled with determination.
“Judge, don’t recuse yourself.”
