Cloudcastle

by Nan Ryan

  The door clanged shut, and the deputy who'd brought in the new prisoner laughed and said loudly, "That ought to hold you. You go entertaining any thoughts of breaking out," —he lifted a heavy Colt .44, stuck it through the bars—"I'll make you a worse cripple than Joe." Loud laughter came from the excited townsfolk who'd crowded around the jail to get a glimpse of the criminal. Night deputy Clyde Percell reholstered his Colt, hitched up his drooping breeches with a yank of his beefy hands, and strode outside to accept more congratulations and praise.

  Joe South, the town drunk, was rapidly growing sober. He didn't like the cold blue eyes of the fierce-looking stranger now sharing his cell. Warily he watched the tall, dark outlaw move toward the empty bunk across from his own. His walk, the set of his shoulders, gave the impression of dangerous power, recognizable even to the whiskey-soaked Joe.

  Through nervous, bloodshot eyes, Joe watched his rang cellmate meticulously smooth out the thin mattress, spread the blanket, and sit down on the bed. In one quick, fluid movement the dark bandit sprawled out on his back, resting his dark head on his folded arms.

  Moonlight streamed in through the high, barred window to illuminate the narrow bed and the man upon it. Crossing his long legs at the ankles, the outlaw looked directly at Joe South and Joe gulped in stunned confusion as the quiet, deadly man flashed him a sudden, brilliant smile, his pearly teeth gleaming amid a dense growth of beard.

  "Covington's the name," he said in a gentle voice as his smile widened. "Kane Covington."

  That smile changed his appearance entirely. His hard-planed face no longer looked so evil and Joe South recognized the name. His fear changed to shock. Then to awe. And finally back to fear. Not of the man, Kane Covington, but for him. He'd heard of Kane Covington, sure enough. He knew exactly what was in store for the smiling, dark fellow southerner.

  "Lordy, sir, we gotta get you out of here." Joe rose unsteadily to his feet. Limping over to his new cellmate, he warned excitedly, "You're gonna wind up wishin' you had never been born" He was looking down on the lounging, bearded man, appalled that Covington appeared so calm.

  "Ami?"

  "Yes, sir." Joe South shook his head knowingly. "You'll stand trial now." He was trembling; from both the liquor and the excitement. "Know what they call the Castleton County judge?"

  "Suppose you tell me."

  "'Hanging' Nat Vallance, that's what! Sends 'em right to the gallows?"

  Chapter Four

  Already there was the hint of approaching autumn in the air.

  Judge Natalie Vallance, perched sidesaddle atop her big bay stallion, Blaze, cantered down Ranch Road toward Cloudcastle. The sun was high and brilliant in the blue September skies. Natalie knew the curious townsfolk who would crowd into the courtroom today would be shedding jackets and rolling up shirtsleeves before the afternoon was over. But at this early hour there was a definite chill in the air.

  Natalie drew a long, deep breath. How she loved this time of year in the Shining Mountains. Nature was at its best from now until first snowfall. It was in early fall four years ago that she had proudly become the first female judge in the sovereign Territory of Colorado.

  Some people were still outraged that the only magistrate in Castleton County was a woman.

  Natalie laughed aloud, recalling how she'd quietly set out to obtain the lofty position. Night after night she'd studied her father's worn law books, telling only Judge Masters and swearing him to secrecy. Wisely keeping her hopes and her dreams secret from all others, she'd spent her days visiting the court trials, listening, learning, and planning.

  She became friendly with the circuit attorneys, accepting their dinner invitations, skillfully rebuffing their amorous advances while gleaning worlds of valuable legal information.

  She hosted an important party just before the Territory's September election, inviting a good number of Cloudcastle's upstanding citizens: husbands and socially prominent wives, as well as the two candidates to the territorial legislature, Democrat Charles Dixon and Republican Benjamin Nunn.

  While guests ate dainty cakes and sipped punch, Natalie Vallance made an important announcement. "We're all happy to have Mr. Dixon and Mr. Nunn with us this evening." She looked from one to the other, smiling warmly. "One of you gentleman will be elected. We desire, here and now, a public pledge from both of you, that whoever of you is elected will work for the passage of an act conferring upon the women of the Territory the right of suffrage."

  Both men looked at Natalie, at each other, and agreed. They were heavily applauded, the applause led by an approving Natalie.

  Benjamin Nunn was elected and he kept his word. With an impatient, excited Natalie at his elbow, he drafted the document handing political equality to women, and two days later introduced the bill on the senate floor to an amused, all-male gathering.

  Nonetheless, the bill passed. Meanwhile, Natalie read for the bar and passed it with flying colors. Not a week later the Honorable Clement T. Masters, a good friend of Natalie's deceased father, and her mentor, sent a message to the board of commissioners expressing his intent to retire as soon as some lady elector could be duly appointed to fill the vacancy.

  Natalie Vallance, at age twenty-six, became the Colorado Territory's first female judge.

  Joe South was free and sober on this perfect September morning. He'd lifted but one strong whiskey when word came from the jail that the prisoner, Kane Covington, wished to see him. The skinny young man didn't hesitate. He left the nearly empty saloon and hurriedly limped toward the jail.

  Out of breath, he rushed right in and excitedly informed the jailor he'd been summoned by Mr. Covington. The jailer motioned him on back and Joe South was soon standing before the bars of Kane Covington's cell.

  Kane lay in that lounging sprawl of his, his long body totally relaxed. Joe South shook his head. Somehow he'd expected to see the bearded criminal clinging to the bars in desperation.

  Joe grinned.

  He should have known better.

  "Joe, my boy." Kane agilely came to his feet. "Thanks for coming."

  "Happy to, sir." Joe plucked his battered Stetson off his sandy head as though he stood in the presence of true greatness. "Anything I can do?"

  "You can, Joe, you sure can." Kane scratched at his bushy black beard and winked at the shorter man. He walked back and forth before the bars. "I've decided—since you tell me the judge is a lady—I'll see if I can't look like a gentleman. Go to the best tailor in town, express my wishes to have a fine suit of clothes ready and delivered by noon today. I'd prefer dove gray, I believe, and let's see, Joe… one of those white shirts with a stiff, uncomfortable collar, a subdued cravat, studs, and—" He stopped his restless prowling, and raised his lean brown hand to his hair-covered face. "And, Joe, send the barber around to the jail. I need a shave and a haircut."

  It was nearing noon and Natalie threw open the windows of her small chambers. The chill had long since left the air and now it was hot.

  Natalie flipped open two or three buttons of the tight-bodiced white blouse she wore, patted at her upswept red-gold hair, and softly sighed. It would be a long, uncomfortable afternoon. The entire community would try and crowd into the courtroom. It would be close and stuffy. And hot. Too hot. Almost as hot as…

  Natalie bit the inside of her cheek and clenched her fists. She had to forget about that night! She had to quit torturing herself over it. All right, so she'd behaved outrageously with an animal on the wrong side of the law. That's unfair of me, she mentally scolded herself. Here I am a magistrate of the courts and I'm judging the man without even knowing the crime he's accused of committing. She shook her head. Whatever he's done, whoever he is, there's no going back, no changing the past.

  She drew a shallow breath. No one knew and no one would ever know, and although she'd betrayed Ashlin, she'd make it up to him. It wasn't as though she'd committed adultery. They were not yet man and wife. Had they been, that indiscretion would never have happened. She was not complete
ly without morals. Never in her married life had she betrayed her husband, Devlin Vallance. And she'd never betray Ashlin once they were married.

  "Forgive me, Ashlin," she said to the silent chamber, as she had a dozen times in the past month.

  Determined anew to put the whole horrible episode behind her, Judge Natalie Vallance slipped her arms into her long black judicial robe, hooked it securely beneath her chin, glanced one last time at the clock, and proceeded into the already packed courtroom.

  "All rise for the Honorable Judge Natalie Vallance," said the bailiff as Natalie entered the crowded courtroom and took her place upon the bench.

  She promptly lifted her gavel and brought the proceedings to order. In a clear, firm voice, she announced, "The Third District Court of Castleton County in the sovereign Territory of Colorado is now in session." Hardly bothering to look up from her sheaf of papers, Judge Vallance read the charge.

  "The accused, Kane W. Covington, is charged with the murder of one Jimmy Ray Leatherwood on July 8, 1872. Is the prosecution ready?" She lifted eyes to the county attorney.

  "We are, Your Honor," said Doug Matthews loudly.

  "Is defense ready?" she queried, returning her attention to the sheaf of papers before her.

  "It is, Your Honor," came a gentle southern voice that made Natalie look up in alarm. She saw the slim, immaculately groomed man standing alone behind the defendant's bar. His tall, lean frame was draped in a light gray suit. Underneath it he wore a spanking white shirt with a tight collar. His handsome, hawklike face was smoothly shaven, and his coal-black hair was carefully trimmed and brushed. His cruel-looking mouth was fixed in a tight expression, and the eyes…

  Natalie felt her heart stop. Then start again at a racing beat that left her light-headed and dizzy. She was looking into the unforgettable blue eyes of her dark outlaw lover.

  Chapter Five

  And he was looking at her.

  Those deep blue eyes gave no flicker of recognition, no hint of surprise or confusion. Not at first. But their gazes locked and held. And in his eyes, a contradiction, a touch of melancholy. Swiftly it passed and in its place, an icy, predatory glare that chilled her very bones.

  Struggling to break the hold his eyes had upon her, Natalie closed her trembling fingers around the smooth, hard handle of the gavel and said as forcefully as she could manage, "This court is recessed until nine tomorrow morning." She didn't explain why and chose to ignore the mumbling that erupted from disappointed citizens who'd been lining up outside the courthouse since breakfast time. "Bailiff, take the prisoner to his cell," she directed, and brought down the gavel with such force, it sounded like a pistol shot.

  Not daring to glance again at the defendant, Natalie, ashen-faced and feeling ill, hurried out of the courtroom with such haste that the townsfolk fell to gossiping. What on earth was the matter with the calm, self-assured Judge Vallance? Her behavior was decidedly strange and puzzling. Never in the four years she'd been on the bench had the coolly composed judge dismissed court proceedings before they'd begun.

  Lord Ashlin Blackmore rose from his seat in the rear of the courtroom. Alarmed and eager to make his way through the disappointed departing crowd, he smiled and good-naturedly dismissed the questioning looks and shouted appeals for an explanation of his fiancée's strange behavior.

  Ashlin stood before the closed door of Natalie's private chambers. He knocked softly, and entered before she invited him inside. Still wearing her billowing black robes, Natalie whirled from the window to face him. Her green eyes held a look of sheer terror.

  "Darling," he said, hurrying over to her, "What is it?"

  Longing to tell him the truth, anxious to pour out the whole horrible story, Natalie violently shook her head, afraid if she spoke, this man who trusted and admired her would never forgive her for betraying him. She felt his chest beneath her hot cheek and his comforting arms about her.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

  And she lied.

  "Nothing, Ashlin, really. I'm not feeling well physically and I just thought—"

  "I knew it," he interrupted, pushing her back a little and taking her chin in his hand, "you're ill, you're as white as linen." His soft brown eyes were filled with concern. It made her feel even more dreadful. "Natalie, I shall summon Dr. Ellroy, at once."

  "No, Ashlin. I've no need of a doctor." She dropped her eyes from his searching gaze. "A slight stomach upset, nothing more. I'll lie down here in chambers. Within an hour I'll be fine… good as new."

  "I don't like it, darling. I do wish you'd let me bring the doctor—"

  "Absolutely not. I feel a little better already." She eased herself from his grasp and turned her back to him. Taking off her black robe, she repeated, "All I need is some rest."

  "I'll drive you up to Cloud West so Jane can look after you," be offered.

  "I've work to do, Ashlin," Natalie replied, fighting to keep the rising irritation from her voice.

  "Very well, dear, but at lunchtime I'm taking you up to the ranch. Have you forgotten I'm due to leave on the Overland stage for Denver this afternoon?"

  "No… no… I've not forgotten," she murmured, although she'd forgotten completely that he would be gone for a couple of days. Reminded of it, she felt a measure of relief instead of the disappointment she knew she should be experiencing. She turned to face him, and smiled. "Ashlin, please don't worry about me. You go on to Denver. I'll rest a bit, then ride home before sundown."

  "You're certain you don't wish me to cancel my trip and stay…"

  "I won't hear of it." She was shaking her head and he smiled resignedly.

  Natalie sighed heavily when Ashlin finally departed. Massaging the back of her tense neck, she crossed the room to draw heavy drapes against the glare of the September sunlight. She lacked off her slippers and lay down upon the worn, uncomfortable sofa along the room's west wall.

  There she remained for the rest of the autumn afternoon. She kept telling herself she'd get up and go home. But still she stayed where she was, a strange, mounting sense of urgency claiming her. She was exhausted, yet exhilarated. Tired, yet restless.

  When the hot September sun was sliding beneath the jagged peaks of the westernmost range, Natalie was still alone in her chambers. The long, tormenting hours had been divided between lying trancelike on the sofa and pacing, stocking-footed, back and forth across the waxed hardwood floors, her long, hot skirts swirling with her quick steps.

  There was barely a glow of fading pink to the clear Colorado sky when finally she stepped out of her chambers, red-gold hair carefully redressed into a neat, tight bun at the back of her head, white blouse rebuttoned to her chin, back straight. Everything about her conveyed placidity and self-possession.

  Natalie nodded briskly to a couple of miners as she made her way toward the livery stables. Both men tipped their hats deferentially and stepped aside to let her pass. The hard-packed dirt street stretched empty before her as most of the town's inhabitants were in their homes enjoying the evening meal. She neared the new Castleton County jail.

  Her pulse began to speed. She told herself she'd walk right by without so much as a passing glance. She drew up even with the open door and her gaze automatically drifted into the gaslit interior.

  Feet atop his desk, mouth gaping open, the night jailer, burly, barrel-chested Dwayne Ward slept peacefully. Natalie paused. And she looked up and down the empty sidewalks.

  It was easy to tell herself she should proceed at once into the jail. She was, after all, the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in Castleton County. Within the walls of the county jail was a dangerous criminal and the man paid to guard him was sound asleep. The situation called for immediate intervention. She had no choice, it was up to her to see if the prisoner was securely restrained in his cell.

  Natalie ventured inside, past the snoring jailer. He slept on, undisturbed. She went at once to the door behind his desk, which led into, a narrow corridor between two small cells. She pause
d there, debating. Should she go inside?

  She had to.

  Had to find out if the prisoner planned to put her life in jeopardy along with his own. Would he tell—had he told—of their heated night of passion at Spanish Widow? Would word of her lustful behavior soon reach Ashlin's ears? Would the entire community of Cloudcastle soon realize that the judge they respected, the woman they thought a lady, was in truth no better than an alley cat?

  Her heart pounding, Natalie neared Kane's cell. He was lying on his back in the moonlight, his hard-planed, hawkish face half-silvered by the light, half darkened in the shadow. His long, lean body reclined with a land of lazy grace and ease. The white shirt he'd worn in the courtroom was now opened down to his waist, exposing the crisp black hair of his chest. His gray suit trousers clung snuggly to a flat belly, slim hips and long, stretched-out legs.

  Natalie felt her cheeks grow warm. She could remember all too well how that hard masculine body felt pressed to her own.

  Before she'd spoken a word, Kane turned his dark head and saw her. His blue eyes gleamed with interest. Backlit from the outer room, her golden-red hair made a halo about her small, well-shaped head. The slender, gently curved body, covered from chin to wrist to toes, still managed to look seductive and inviting.

  The flaming hair, the sparkling eyes, the pouting mouth, silently announced the identity of his unexpected night visitor.

  Agilely, Kane rolled from the bunk and was on his feet, crossing to stand before the iron bars that separated them.

  As though a wild, dangerous animal had come near the confining bars of its cage, Natalie clasped a hand to her throat and took a step backward.

  Kane's mobile lips twisted into a sardonic, accusing grin. "I'm well restrained, Your Honor." He wrapped long, tanned fingers around the narrow, metal bars. "I couldn't get to you if I wanted… or vice versa."