A Match Made in Texas

by Margaret Brownley

  Moments later, Amanda dragged herself into the old schoolhouse. She was worried about Rick. That and the encounter with Mary-Louise had depleted her energy. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  The members of the town council, including Mayor Troutman, were seated behind a long table.

  Nerves wound tighter than a watch spring, she stood in front of them and felt as if she were facing a firing squad. She hid her shaking hands by her side. What did the council have in mind? Whatever it was, she hoped they’d get it over with quickly so she could look for Rick.

  No one had seen fit to provide her with a chair. There were five of them, including the mayor, and every last one of them harbored ill feelings toward her for one thing or another.

  T-Bone, Mr. Perl, and Mr. Granby were married to posse members and continued to blame her for their wives’ neglect of household duties. Mr. Levy owned the Red Rooster Saloon and Dance Hall and still hadn’t forgotten how she tried closing him down on Sundays.

  The fifth and newest council member was the dogcatcher, Mr. Mutton. He and Amanda, along with her sister Meg, had more than their share of disputes. To him, a dog was a dog, licensed or not, and none were safe from his snare.

  Mayor Troutman glowered at her, his face as white as the sling holding his injured arm in place. The county director had arrived on the morning train, and Troutman had the unenviable task of informing him that the hanging had been canceled.

  “Miss Lockwood. Suppose you tell us how your office allowed the prisoner to escape?”

  Anxious to get the inquiry over with as quickly as possible, she curbed her impatience. Feigning a look of horror, she allowed her gaze to travel from man to man. “Surely, you’re not suggesting that one of your wives…”

  Looking appalled, Granby turned to the mayor. “That’s not what you meant, is it? You’re not saying that my Myrtle would help a killer escape…”

  “Harrumph.” Mr. Perl fingered the woolen scarf at his neck. “My wife would never do such a thing.”

  “Mine neither!” T-Bone said, though he sounded more certain than he looked.

  The mayor chomped down on his cigar. “Relax. No one is blaming your wives. They’re all fine women, I’m sure.”

  “Or were till they decided to wear long handles,” Mutton muttered.

  Mr. Perl cleared his throat. Judging by his expression, Mrs. Perl’s divided skirt, which looked like stovepipe trousers, were a sensitive topic. Or maybe the dour expression was due to the heat. The poor man was swathed in more wool than a flock of sheep, thanks to his wife’s ever-present knitting needles. Like a Norwegian fisherman, he wore a knitted cardigan and woolen hat. That, along with his long narrow scarf, made Amanda feel hot just looking at him.

  The mayor glanced at his notes. “As I understand it, you and the…others…were called away to check out a complaint.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Amanda said, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. “I received a report of suspicious activity out by the Freeman homestead.” Recalling what John had done, she clenched her hands tight.

  “I see,” the mayor said. “According to Hobson, you were to follow him and the…others. Is that right?”

  “Yes. My posse”—she paused for effect and cast her gaze toward Granby, T. Bone, and Perl—“including your very fine and noble wives, left with Deputy Hobson.” The three men might be less willing to blame her or her posse if reminded of their wives’ involvement.

  Troutman took a puff on his cigar before asking, “Why didn’t you leave with them?”

  “I fully intended to. But I was attacked by Rick…Mr. Barrett. As I told you before, he handcuffed me to my hope…uh…wooden chest.” At first, she’d resented Rick making her stay behind. In retrospect, she knew he had done her a favor.

  Recalling the feel of his mouth on hers, she forced herself to breathe. Oh, Rick, please be safe.

  Mr. Perl’s impatience was as evident as the wool around his neck. “None of this explains how the prisoner escaped.”

  “I’m afraid that must have happened when I was occupied with Mr. Coldwell.”

  Troutman’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that Gopher had something to do with it?”

  She shrugged. She hated to falsely accuse someone, but it served the man right. Also, it was Gopher’s fault that she shot the mayor. “I figure there was a reason he created a distraction.” Fortunately, the council members didn’t know that Rick had escaped before Gopher showed up.

  T-Bone looked dubious. “Letting a prisoner escape is no more than what we expected from a woman sheriff. First, she corrupts our wives and nearly burns down the town. Then, she shoots the mayor. Now this!”

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Lockwood?” the mayor asked.

  Corrupted their wives? She was tempted to give them a piece of her mind. Knowing it would only make things worse, she bit back her angry retort. Grace and charm, grace and charm, grace and charm…

  “We have a dangerous killer on the loose. If you gentlemen would kindly let me do my job, I intend to track him down.”

  “Track him down?” T-bone snapped. “He could be in Mexico by now. He could even be in a foreign country.”

  The mayor elbowed him. “Mexico is a foreign country, you idiot.”

  Amanda stretched to her full five-foot-five height. “If he crossed the border, he won’t be our problem anymore, will he?” Mexico was exactly where Rick was supposed to be by now. The thought of him lying somewhere in the hot sun injured and possibly dead filled her with horror.

  The men huddled their heads together, their hushed voices failing to conceal a heated discussion.

  Finally, the mayor pulled away from the others and sat upright. “That will be all. For now. But be warned—we are holding another election for sheriff and expect to swear in a new one by next Friday.”

  Amanda said nothing. It was no more than what she expected and maybe even deserved. As far as she was concerned, Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

  T-Bone’s eyes glittered. “Just so you know, me and the others are formin’ our own posse. If Rennick or Barrett or whatever he calls himself is anywhere within a hundred miles, we’ll find him.”

  Amanda left the town council meeting in a hurry. Already, a group of horsemen gathered in front of the butcher shop, including Pepper and other members of his lynch mob.

  Her heart sank. Even if, by chance, Rick wasn’t injured, he wouldn’t get very far without a horse. The sooner she found him, the better.

  Quick strides took her to Spirit’s side. She unwrapped his reins from the hitching post and glanced around before slapping the horse on his rump. “Go. Find Rick.” As soon as he took off, she would follow on her pony.

  The horse moved a few steps forward, then stopped and turned his head to look back at her. “Go on,” she said. “Find Rick.”

  The horse stood staring at her as if to say, Get on, you dummy.

  After several more tries, she gave up. That’s all she needed. A stubborn horse.

  “Psst.”

  Amanda swung around, seeking the owner of the whispered voice. Finally, she spotted Mrs. Mooney motioning to her from the side of a building. Thank goodness.

  Making sure that no one was watching, Amanda quickly slipped into the alley and was greeted by Scooter and the entire Red Feather posse.

  She couldn’t believe that Scooter had rounded up the ladies so quickly.

  Mrs. Mooney stepped forward, looking unbearably important. As if to acknowledge her self-appointed position, the red quill on her hat stood rigid as a tin soldier.

  “As the bank president’s wife, I speak for all of us when I say your secret is safe.”

  “My secret?”

  Mrs. Perl looked up from her knitting, but her needles kept moving. “You know…Janet.”

  Amanda glanced at h
er deputy, who simply shrugged. “You mean…you knew all along.”

  Mrs. Granby held her lorgnette glasses up to her eyes and made a face. “There had to be a reason for his hairy arms.”

  Becky-Sue giggled.

  “Yes, and no woman would stab at her needlework like he did,” Miss Read said in a voice once used on disruptive students. “He sewed like he was digging a well.”

  Amanda couldn’t believe it. “You knew it was Rick, and you still went through with it?”

  Mrs. Granby sniffed. “We all know that the dear man didn’t do the things he’s accused of. Since you arranged for his release, we assumed you believe him innocent too.”

  “That’s true,” Amanda said. Her heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to involve you all but…”

  “Don’t apologize,” Mrs. Perl said, waving a knitting needle. “Helping Mr. Rennick escape was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. Wait till my son hears about that!”

  “Even so, it was wrong of me to involve you without your permission. I’ll take full responsibility and—”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Mooney exclaimed. “We couldn’t let a poor innocent man hang.”

  “We would never have forgiven ourselves,” added Mrs. Perl.

  Ellie-May Walker nodded in agreement. “Deputy Hobson said you needed our help. Tell us what you want us to do.”

  Amanda peered around the corner of the building. The number of men had doubled in the last few minutes and now rose to more than twenty.

  Mrs. Mooney peered over her shoulder and gasped. “Is that my Gilbert?”

  Next to her, Ellie-May made a rude sound. “How dare my husband take the law into his own hands!” she said, as if she hadn’t done the same thing by helping Rick escape.

  Mrs. Perl was equally appalled that her husband had joined the bloodthirsty mob. “And he’s wearing his good knitted scarf.”

  “Shh,” Amanda said, turning to face her posse. Maybe Rick was miles away; maybe he wasn’t. In either case, she had to know for certain.

  “Rick’s horse returned without a rider, and I’m afraid Rick might be injured.”

  This brought cries of alarm from the others.

  With a finger to her mouth, she reminded them to keep their voices down. “I need to find him. Do you think you can keep Pepper and his gang from following me?”

  “We can do that,” Scooter exclaimed, and all the women agreed with bobbing heads. “What’s the plan?”

  Her mind scrambled. She didn’t have a plan. “Do you think you can find a way to delay them?”

  “How’re we gonna do that?” Mrs. Wellmaker asked.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Mrs. Mooney said, taking charge. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’ve got a dozen wheeled vehicles, and they’ve only got a bunch of horses.” She smiled. “Come on, gang. Follow me. It’s time to circle the wagons.”

  The women all ran for their wagons and in no time flat had formed a circle around Pepper and his men.

  Wasting no time, Amanda took off, urging Spirit along the curving dirt road, past limestone knolls, groves of cypress trees, and stunted oaks. How long her posse could hold Pepper and his lynch mob trapped inside the circle of wagons was anyone’s guess, but at least it allowed her a head start. Upon realizing they weren’t going anywhere, Pepper and his men rent the air with enough curses to make even a sailor blush. Oh my…

  Spirit’s pounding iron-clad hooves triggered a cloud of blackbirds to rise from the treetops and take flight. On the ground, small rabbits, prairie dogs, and wild turkeys raced for cover. An armadillo scrambled into the bushes.

  Halfway to her destination, she spotted vultures circling overhead. Fear unlike any she’d ever known gripped her until she saw the object of their attention was a dead steer.

  Riding off, she guided Spirit into a grove of maple trees. She slipped from the saddle, holding the reins, and stood perfectly still, ears alert. A slight breeze rustled the leaves and rippled the tall grass. Overhead, a jaybird hopped from branch to branch, protesting her presence with a raucous cry.

  She peered around the tree trunks to the road. In the distance, a train wound its way to town like a slick metallic snake. The lack of dust calmed her worries. So far, no one had followed her.

  Satisfied, she left the safety of the grove. A few miles down the road, she reached her destination.

  The white stucco building had once been part of a thriving Mexican village. Pulse quickening, she tugged on the reins. Called a cabana, the main building had long been deserted, as had others dotting the area. Now, only ghostly walls and overgrown weeds remained.

  Sitting on the open plains, the small village offered both a risk and security. Easily spotted from the road, it also allowed a clear view for miles around. This is where Scooter left Rick’s horse and supplies.

  She reined Spirit in in front of the archway leading to a courtyard and called Rick’s name.

  The only answer she received was the sound of the breeze whistling through the deserted corridors. It didn’t take long to find the supplies where Scooter had stashed them. It was hard to know if anything had been touched. The bedroll was rolled up, but Rick tended to be neat even while in jail and had straightened his cot every morning.

  Frantically, she ran through the buildings, calling to him while something died inside. She’d hoped that Rick was safe somewhere far away by now, though it meant she would never see him again. She wanted to believe he’d already crossed the border into Mexico. Or had even traveled up north.

  Now, she didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t have gotten far without his horse. She stood in the center of the courtyard and tried to decide what to do next. Spirit nickered and pawed the ground.

  “What’s the matter, boy?”

  Then a distant memory came to the fore. Something Rick said. I’m not worried about him. He’ll always find his way back to me. Eventually.

  Her breath caught in her chest. Shading her eyes, she surveyed the surrounding area. A cloud of dust caught her attention in the far distance. Something…

  Mounting, she gave Spirit full rein and clicked her tongue. “Find Rick!”

  Spirit galloped at full speed for nearly a mile before stopping in front of a thick grove of trees, ears alert.

  “What is it, boy?” The horse acted skittish and refused to go any farther. Instead, he shook his head and tugged at the bit.

  She slid off the saddle just as gunfire rent the air. A flock of noisy blackbirds rose from the treetops and took to the sky. Spirit bolted, pulling the reins from her hands, and vanished amid the trees.

  She called to him beneath her breath. Blast it all. Just her luck to have a horse with a yellow streak.

  Gun drawn, she ducked among the trees, senses alert. A slight breeze whispered through the silvery leaves overhead. A twig snapped beneath the sole of her boot, and she froze for a moment before moving again.

  Another gunshot ripped through the air, this time closer. Heart pounding, she gripped her weapon with both hands and mentally ran through her checklist. Arms straight, wrist solid. Don’t jerk the trigger…

  Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm.

  Thirty-five

  “Rick!” Gasping, Amanda’s knees nearly caved beneath her. Never had she been so happy to see anyone in her life. “Where have you been? Spirit—”

  He shushed her with a finger to his mouth and pulled her behind a tree with a nod toward her weapon. “I hope that thing is loaded this time,” he whispered.

  “It is,” she whispered back.

  “Good. Let me have it.”

  “Why should I?”

  “My aim is better than yours.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said. “I shot Mayor Troutman last night.”

  He reared back. “You shot the mayor?”
/>
  “It was an accident.”

  “A likely story.” He put out his hand. “Let me have the gun before you shoot me.”

  With a sense of relief, she handed him the Colt, remembering to do it grip first. She searched his face. “When Spirit showed up, I thought something bad had happened to you.”

  He checked the gun’s chambers. One chamber had been left empty for safety’s sake. “Spirit was gone by the time I reached the cabana. I figured someone stole him.”

  “He wasn’t stolen. He came back to town looking for you.”

  He shook his head. “I should have known.” He held out his hand. “Let me have another bullet.”

  “That’s it. I don’t have any more.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You’re jokin’, right?” He glanced at her gun belt and groaned. “How do you plan on winnin’ a gunfight with only five bullets?”

  “My plan was to avoid gunfights,” she said. Her shoot-out with Gopher was enough to last a lifetime.

  The blast of gunshot made her jump and fall into Rick’s arms with a gasp. They both dropped to the ground. Clinging to him, she shook so hard, she could hardly breathe.

  “You hurt?” he murmured in her ear, his voice thick with concern.

  Head pressed against his chest, she panted for air and struggled to find her voice. “No.”

  “Okay. Much as I hate to say this, you’re gonna have to get off of me.”

  She lifted her head. “What?” With a start, she realized she was flat on top of him. “Oh!” She rolled off and hunkered down behind the dense shrubbery.

  A second bullet whizzed over their heads, this time, by mere inches.

  He yanked the feather from her hat and tossed it into the ground. “May as well wave a flag.”

  “What’s going on?” she whispered. “Who’s shooting?”

  “Listen.”

  At first, she heard nothing, but then a lowing sound broke the silence. “All I hear is cattle.”

  “Not just cattle.” He flashed her a meaningful look. “Calves.”

  She stared at him. “Are you saying…”

  “Take a look.” He scooted over so she could see through the bushes.