Comanche Eagle

by Sara Orwig

  “He did, now that I think about it.”

  “Did you hear two shots?”

  “No, just one.”

  “So, Kendrick held a revolver that he did not fire to protect himself.”

  “He probably didn’t have time.”

  “No more questions,” Rufus said, returning to his seat.

  Clarence rose to his feet and called Slim Tipton to the witness stand. A deputy escorted Slim into the room. He moved to the chair beside Crystal’s desk and was sworn in.

  He sat down, facing the courtroom. His testimony backed up Whit’s until Rufus began to question him along the same lines he had quizzed Odell.

  “And when the three of you rode up and found the man who is accused of shooting and killing Abner Kendrick, did he threaten you?”

  “No,” Slim answered, frowning and sounding uncertain.

  “If he had just killed a man, he had nothing to lose. Why would he simply turn himself over to the three of you?”

  Slim looked puzzled. “We outnumbered him. We’d drawn on him.”

  “You rode up with guns in your hands?”

  “Yes. We’d heard a gunshot.”

  “Was the defendant armed?”

  “Who?”

  “The defendant—the accused, Brett Dancer.”

  “Black Eagle? Yeah, he had a gun.”

  “Did he drop it?”

  “Yeah, when we told him to.”

  “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  Slim looked worried, and no wonder. Rufus had asked the same questions of Whit Odell and Whit had first said Brett was not holding a gun, then yes, he was, and then no, he was not. The two men were not telling the same story. Did that mean all three were lying? She glanced at Brett, who was as stone-faced as Travis.

  The next witness, Deputy Raymond Parnell, related how Brett had fought him when he’d tried to arrest him.

  “And what other charges have been brought against Brett Dancer?” Clarence asked.

  Rufus was on his feet at once. “Objection, Your Honor. This trial is about a murder. Anything else is irrelevant.”

  “Sustained.”

  Clarence interrogated Parnell about his difficulties apprehending the defendant, and then he sat down. Rufus had no questions.

  It was far enough into the afternoon that Crystal adjourned court for the day. Tomorrow, they might well have sufficient time for the remaining witnesses, any cross-examination, and the summations. And that was what Wade Hinckel had hoped for. The sooner this trial was over, the happier he would be.

  Before she left the courtroom, she caught a glimpse of Travis. He was staring at her, his dark eyes stormy, and she could still feel his coiled anger.

  Tomorrow or, at the latest, the next day would mark the end of the trial … and the end of her marriage as well. Now he couldn’t legally annul it, and she doubted he would try to take her away from Jacob or Jacob from her. Travis would put Jacob above all else, before his own feelings, and she was thankful for that. She longed to be home with Jacob, to hear his laughter. And she ached for his father, wanting Travis more than she would have dreamed possible. Too clearly she could remember the nights in his arms, his ready laughter, his loving.

  With a groan, she entered her chambers and shed the robe of office, pulling on her bonnet swiftly. Elgin Thomas escorted her to the hotel. Ignoring cries to hang Brett Dancer, she hurried across the street.

  “Hang the redskin!”

  “Hang the Injun, Judge!”

  “Squaw woman, don’t turn him free!”

  She did not look around, but rushed headlong for the hotel, feeling as if she had turned to ice. Thankful to reach her room, she closed and locked the door.

  Ten minutes later, she heard a knock and opened it to face Travis.

  He swept past her, bringing cool air as if he had rushed upstairs from the outside. Dressed all in black, he strode across the room, tossed his hat on a chair, and turned to face her. The simple bed stood behind him, reminding her of the bed they had shared at home, and she wished they could be whisked back to that time and place.

  She felt the tension; she was torn between the intimidation of his anger and a deep longing to throw herself into his strong arms and to hold him against the pain that was coming.

  “Crystal, my brother is innocent.”

  “You heard the testimony today. The witnesses saw him robbing Abner Kendrick’s body,” she said patiently, although exasperated that Travis could be so blind to his brother’s wrongful deeds. He was going to be hurt; she prayed it would not be a physical hurt. She was scared of what he would do when Brett was found guilty. And he was going to hate her. If he ended their marriage and took Jacob from her, could she survive?

  “The witnesses’ stories didn’t agree. You heard them as clearly as I did. Whit said one thing and Slim said another. How can you believe either one?”

  “A trial is a search for the truth. I have to believe one side or another. Whit Odell is a reputable citizen, and he’s never been in trouble with the law.”

  “Not that’s known around these parts, but he’s fought plenty with Abner Kendrick. They have been at each other’s throats for the past three years since they both settled here. And a lot of people knew about their fights. They have shot at each other before.”

  “I have to go with the evidence presented in court. That Whit Odell and Abner Kendrick didn’t like each other does not prove your brother innocent. It’s beside the point. If the men have argued and shot at each other, perhaps Rufus will bring it out, but it has little bearing on this case.”

  The tension between them had not decreased, and she wished he could think clearly and look at the case objectively. Arguing did not improve their situation, and tomorrow she would deliver the final blow to their relationship.

  “Crystal, my brother is innocent. Give him the benefit of the doubt that the law requires.”

  “I am!” she snapped.

  “No, you’re not. You judged and condemned him before he ever walked into your courtroom.”

  “I’m listening to the case as it’s presented,” she said, her voice tight with anger, her fists clenched as tightly as his.

  “Dammit, give Brett a chance! Just because a man will rob does not mean he’ll murder.”

  “Travis, he crossed the line between right and wrong long ago.”

  He glowered at her, his jaw tight. “I’ll not let him hang!”

  Stunned, she stared at him. “Don’t threaten me,” she warned. “I could have you arrested right now to prevent you from interfering with justice!”

  “Justice!” he spat. “You’re not giving him justice.”

  “You’ll be taking the law into your own hands if you try to save him.” She couldn’t resist crossing to him. She gripped his arms; and the moment she touched him and felt his warmth, she trembled, thinking only of Travis and how she longed for his love and their marriage. His dark eyes were as uncompromising as black stones, and she could feel the tension in his hard muscles.

  “Don’t try to rescue Brett!” she pleaded, holding his arms. “Please, don’t. Think of Jacob. Your son’s future will be at stake.”

  At her touch Travis inhaled. Her scent enveloped him; her touch was devastating, and her big green eyes seared him. His pulse drummed, and he could not keep from reaching for her. He pulled her into his arms and his mouth came down hard on her soft lips. He ached to take her to bed, to love her until she was quivering, yielding in passion. And he wished he could make her yield in her judgment.

  I love you. The words welled up inside him, but he held them back. If he spoke of love now, she wouldn’t believe him. She would accuse him of using her to get Brett free.

  Crystal clung to him, feeling his hard, solid strength against her. Her heart pounded violently, in unison with his. She loved him completely; no matter what came between them, she would love him always. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. For this one moment in time, she wanted to hold him, to return h
is wild kisses, to let her love pour over him. Even if it could not last. Before the week was up, her marriage would be over.

  She pushed against his chest and pulled away, her heart still pounding. She could barely get her breath and she wanted to curl right back into his arms.

  “This won’t solve anything,” she said harshly.

  “Give Brett the benefit of the doubt,” Travis implored. His voice was husky, filled with anger and pain.

  “He’s an outlaw. And you will be too if you try to help him escape.”

  “A man should have a chance and not be hanged by someone else’s lies.”

  “Whit Odell is as much a law-abiding citizen as you and I are.”

  “Now, perhaps. You have no idea about his past.”

  “A man’s past is as much his present as it is his past.”

  “Not on the frontier. If you sentence Brett to hang, I’m taking him out of here.”

  “Then you’ll throw away everything you’ve worked to achieve. You’ll throw away your decent life, Jacob’s future, the ranch, your stable. Don’t do it, Travis. Don’t cross that line.”

  “Crystal, I’m more a wanted man than Brett,” he said in a cold, flat voice. “I’m John Dancer Black Eagle. Black Eagle is my Comanche name. John Dancer is the name my mother gave me when we returned to civilization. And I’m wanted for murder in Texas.”

  Twenty-two

  She stared at him, unbelieving. Her head spun, and she was unable to comprehend his words. “You… wanted for murder? You killed a man?”

  “Yes, I did,” Travis replied. “He raped my mother and he beat her. I heard her screaming. As I fought with him, he drew a revolver and shot at me. I shot back. I was the better shot.”

  “He shot at you. That’s self-defense.”

  “But no one would have believed me. We lived in a small town beside a fort and Indians were despised. Brett and I fled.”

  “Why Brett? How was he involved?”

  “He was just there. That’s one reason I know he wouldn’t lie to me. My brother knows my past. My mother told us both to go because they would hang him, too, if he stayed behind. So we fled and joined the Confederacy. By the end of the war, Brett had grown wild. He had a gang of men who rode with him; they had robbed during the war…. War can cover a multitude of sins. I didn’t want that life. I couldn’t go back to Texas, so I got as far away from there as I could. I took the name Travis Black Eagle and settled here.”

  Astounded by his story, she had nothing to say. He continued fervently, beseeching her.

  “Crystal, my life in Wyoming gave me a second chance. Brett is ready to lead an honest life and he did not murder Kendrick. Give him that same second chance at life I had. He’s telling the truth.”

  She barely heard his request, her mind still reeling from his revelation. “You’re wanted for murder.”

  His face became glacial. He withdrew from her, his jaw clamping shut. “Yes, I am.”

  “And you trusted me enough to tell me … knowing how I feel about the law.”

  “Yes,” he answered grimly. “I’ve always trusted you.”

  “Is there a price on your head?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he admitted in a flat, harsh tone. “John Dancer is a wanted man.”

  “You know I can turn you in.”

  “Yes, I do,” he replied solemnly.

  “That’s why you’ve never gone home.”

  “I would’ve brought trouble to my people. The price on my head is far bigger than that on Brett. I would have had to stand trial for murder.” Travis studied her as the seconds passed. “You think about what’s right, Crystal,” Travis said, picking up his hat and placing it on his head. “Just do what’s right and stop judging Brett beforehand.”

  As soon as he closed the door behind him, she collapsed, weak-kneed. Travis had murdered a man and fled. And gotten a second chance.

  She sat in stunned immobility for the next hour and then, decisively, she reached for her cloak. She hurried back to the sheriff’s office and found him working at his desk, papers littered around him. His tan shirt was rumpled, stained with tobacco and coffee, and she could see the strain of the murder was wearing on him. He rubbed the thick brown stubble that covered his jaw.

  “What can I do for you, Judge?”

  “I want to talk to the prisoner.”

  “It’s against regulations.”

  “What isn’t in this trial?” she snapped. “We’re rushing through it so a mob won’t hang him. His sister-in-law is the judge.”

  “All right. I’ll take you back to his cell,” Wade said tiredly, keys jingling in his hand. “I hope the whole damn thing winds up tomorrow.” His blue eyes had smudges beneath them, and she’d never seen him so down.

  When Brett saw her, his brows arched and a charming smile broke forth like sunshine through the clouds. “Well, darlin’ sister!” he exclaimed and came to his feet as if he were greeting her in his living quarters and there was no terrible wound in his side.

  She stepped inside the cell. Brett wore the white linen shirt he had worn in court and the black pants. He smiled, a dimple showing in his cheek, and she waited while Wade locked the door behind her and left them alone. Of everyone involved in the trial, Brett looked the least concerned. Each time she saw him, he looked better and stronger and more self-assured.

  “Have a seat,” Brett said with a flourish of his arm. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “You’re not on trial in here and what you say to me now wouldn’t matter in a courtroom. I want an honest answer from you. Did you kill Abner Kendrick?”

  His smile vanished, and a silence stretched between them. “Would you believe me?”

  “I want to hear your side,” she said simply.

  “No, I did not kill Kendrick,” Brett replied, holding up his right hand. “I swear I did not.”

  “What happened?”

  “I worked for him. I was alone with him when Whit Odell, Virgil Shank, and Slim Tipton appeared. Whit and Abner argued. Slim pulled out his revolver and shot and killed Kendrick. They have their story, but what I’m telling you is the way it really happened.”

  “What did Whit and Abner argue about?”

  “Water rights. Abner’s creek crosses Odell’s land. Kendrick had dammed it up and cut off Odell’s water.”

  “Did you tell Rufus all this?”

  “Yes, he knows it. Rufus is not through presenting my case.”

  “You swear you’re telling me the truth?”

  “I swear.”

  “You’ve robbed people?”

  “Banks and trains. I’ve robbed a lot and for a long time.” He took her hand in his big, callused hands. She looked down at dark-skin and strong hands that held hers so gently. “Judge, I’m sorry to have brought all this trouble to Travis and to have caused a rift between the two of you.”

  Brett pulled her to him, his arms holding her loosely. She stood stiffly in his arms, despite the threat of tears. He was the wrong man, a man who was almost a stranger, and she could find no solace in his embrace. She wanted Travis’s arms around her. She wiped her eyes and stepped away.

  “Sorry. I just wanted to hear you say what happened.”

  “I didn’t kill him. I’ve done a lot of things that were wrong, but I didn’t do this. I shouldn’t have stopped to see Travis, but we used to be close…. I didn’t want to bring trouble to him.”

  “Why didn’t you work for Travis?” she asked, curious.

  “He knows me. He knows my past. He’s honest and leading a decent life. I didn’t want to upset his life.”

  “He told me about Texas.”

  Brett nodded. “After the war he tried to get me to start a new life, but I was wild and young and not ready to settle. I wouldn’t listen…. I should have.”

  She looked into his dark eyes, wondering if he were telling the truth, almost convinced that he was. “I’d better get back.”

  She heard voices and Wade appeared with T
ravis at his side. His black eyes tore at her heart, and a tremor shook her. She wanted to reach out and grasp him, to hold him again, but his look was enough to keep her away from him. He looked like a man holding a tight check on rage.

  Wade Hinckel unlocked the door and she stepped out. Without a word Travis walked into the cell. She fled, tears glistening in her eyes. She rarely cried, but today she couldn’t stop.

  Travis was a wanted man. A man who had put that past behind him, started over, and made a new life. He had murdered a man, but it had been in self-defense. Perhaps the distinction between right and wrong was not as clear-cut as she had thought, but she still believed in justice and law. And she was beginning to believe Brett.

  Blindly, she rushed back to the hotel. Travis had killed. Yet he was a good person. And even though he had killed in self-defense, he was wanted by the law. He had started his life over and it was good and he was law-abiding.

  She, too, had started over by coming to Cheyenne. Her marriage to Travis had given her a second chance at life.

  She shut herself into her room and buried her face in her hands. She had been given a second chance. Travis had made a second chance for himself. All he asked was the same opportunity for his brother.

  Could Brett have killed Kendrick? Three people said he did. Whit Odell, whom she knew nothing about, and Slim Tipton and Virgil Shanks, who couldn’t be trusted from one hour to the next.

  She rubbed her head and moved restlessly around the room. If the case were damming and she condemned Brett to hang, would Travis risk his life to save his brother? Of course, he would.

  An onslaught of rain came in the night. Lightning streaked the sky, and thunder boomed ominously. Impervious to the weather, Crystal felt numbed by the storm of circumstances. She had been so sure that Brett was lying, but now every truth she’d always relied on lay in question. Travis believed in his brother’s innocence, so did Turtle River; but in her experience, any man facing the gallows would try to save himself. Still, the witnesses’ stories did not match.

  She lay on the bed and stared into the darkness, picturing Travis and nothing more.

  In the quiet dawn Travis crossed the street. The sun’s pink rays shot up across the eastern horizon. The air was clear and fresh after the rain and small puddles of water still stood in the street. Dressed in black, Travis strode into the jail to see Brett.