by Connie Mason
“Of course not, Shannon. I’ll get your wrap,” Nigel said, concern coloring his words. He slanted an accusing look at Colonel Greer, then took Shannon’s arm and led her inside.
“I’m sorry I spoiled your evening,” Shannon apologized as they strolled across the parade ground.
“You didn’t spoil anything, Shannon,” Nigel assured her. “Did Colonel Greer say something to upset you?”
“I—no, certainly not. It’s just this nasty headache.”
“Ah, yes, the headache,” Nigel echoed, not at all convinced.
By now they had reached Shannon’s door. “I wish you a speedy recovery. May I kiss you goodnight? I’ve never met a woman like you before, Shannon, and I want us to be more than friends. I’ll be going back to England one day soon. Perhaps I can convince you to come with me as my wife.”
Shannon blanched. She never meant for things to progress this far with Nigel. The kindest thing she could do now was to put a quick end to his hopes.
“I’m sorry, Nigel, if I led you on, but you can never be more than a friend to me. It would be best for all concerned if we don’t see one another again. My heart is engaged elsewhere.”
“There is no hope?” Nigel asked, strangely bereft. He knew he could change his life around with Shannon as his wife.
“None,” Shannon said. “I love him more than my own life.”
“Do I know the man?”
“I—no.” What good would it do to tell Nigel about Blade? Shannon reasoned.
“Then I reckon I’ll be moving on in a day or two,” Nigel said slowly. “I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to visit California before I return to England.”
Shannon had no idea what sin Nigel had committed back in England to disgrace his family, but she recognized the spark of decency in him. He wasn’t a bad sort and was almost always a perfect gentleman where she was concerned. She hoped that when he had lived down his disgrace and learned his lesson, he’d go home and make a brilliant match.
Shannon vowed not to bother Colonel Greer again until he received an answer to the telegram sent to Washington in Blade’s behalf. But when the morning before the day of the trial arrived and she still hadn’t heard a word, Shannon dismissed school at noon and presented herself at Greer’s office. Evidently, he was expecting her for she was ushered into his office immediately.
“Blade’s trial is tomorrow, Colonel. Did you send the telegram?” Shannon asked. Preliminaries had no place in a conversation when a man’s life was at stake.
“I sent it,” Greer acknowledged curtly.
He had in fact sent a telegram after he spoke to Shannon. A fair man, the notion of convicting an innocent man didn’t sit well with Greer. If there was a modicum of truth in Shannon’s allegations he wanted to know. Greer assumed an answer would be forthcoming immediately if Blade was in truth a special investigator for the President. But nearly a week elapsed with no response to his inquiry. Naturally he treated the President’s failure to reply as a clear indication of Blade’s guilt. He assumed that if Blade was a special agent the President wouldn’t hesitate to come to his defense.
Colonel Greer’s telegram reached the hands of President Johnson’s personal secretary at the worst possible time. Distraught over impeachment proceedings and his testimony before a congressional committee, the secretary, loathe to bother the President at so crucial a time, made a decision to lay the telegram aside until after the trial. It didn’t sound at all urgent, asking only if a half-breed named Swift Blade was a special investigator for the President. He took it upon himself to withhold the telegram from President Johnson until after the vote, which was scheduled for May 26. An earlier vote on May 16 fell one vote short for passage.
Of course neither Shannon nor Greer could have known that, as Shannon asked, “Have you received a reply?”
Greer regarded Shannon with pity. “No, Shannon, I’ve heard nothing. Blade’s trial will proceed as planned. Since military law prevails at Fort Laramie he’ll be tried by a panel of officers consisting of myself, Captain Delaney and Lieutenant Goodman. You can be certain we will weigh the evidence carefully before passing sentence. Justice will be served.”
“Justice! I know the kind of justice Blade will receive,” Shannon spat, turning on her heel and slamming out the door. “Before God I swear you will not hang Blade!”
Blade’s face was carefully blank as the charges were read against him.
“How do you plead?” Colonel Greer asked.
“Not guilty,” Blade replied, his voice firm and unshakable.
In swift order the court’s evidence was presented. The argument for conviction was strong, the evidence found at the scene incriminating. Intuitively Blade realized it would take no less than the President of the United States to save his life, otherwise he would surely die. That thought sent his heart plummeting to his feet. The President was hundreds of miles away.
When Blade was finally allowed to testify in his own defense, he revealed his status as special agent working with Major Vance to stop gun smugglers from selling illegal weapons to the Indians.
“Do you have proof of that?” asked Lieutenant Goodman.
“I have no written proof,” Blade returned, “if that is what you’re asking. But if you will wire the President I’m certain he will verify my words.”
“I did just that, over a week ago,” Greer revealed.
Immediately Blade brightened. Surely President Johnson wouldn’t let him die, would he? “Then this trial is unnecessary. I would never kill Wade Vance, he was my friend. I had no motive. Once I am free I swear I will find the real killer.”
“The President never answered my telegram,” Greer said with harsh denial. “You weren’t important enough to warrant an answer.”
The trial progressed swiftly after that. Lieutenant Goodman laughed outright when Blade claimed he had been an officer in the Union army during the war and afterwards. Captain Delaney had always liked Blade, but the evidence against him was too strong for the conscientious officer to ignore. After the testimony he had no choice but to agree with the persuasive Lieutenant Goodman and a reluctant but convinced Colonel Greer. Blade was unaminously convicted of premeditated murder with robbery as the motive. It had been pointed out during the trial that Vance’s quarters were thoroughly ransacked and his money belt found in Blade’s room.
Colonel Greer’s voice was properly subdued when he pronounced sentence. In two days Blade was to be hung by the neck until dead. The news spread like wildfire throughout the fort. Shannon was nearly prostrate with grief when she heard. She found it impossible to believe someone as honorable as Blade could be condemned to death. He was too young, too vital; she loved him too much to even consider his death. So she didn’t.
Instead, Shannon calmly planned Blade’s escape. The Branigan courage had been ingrained in her since birth. That and her love and absolute confidence in Blade’s innocence lent her the strength and daring necessary to undertake so bold a task. Two days wasn’t much time, but God willing it would be enough.
She had no idea fate was already at work in her behalf. It came in the form of a slim young man who rode into Fort Laramie in the company of several trappers.
Chapter Nineteen
Shannon was pleasantly surprised when Colonel Greer agreed to see her the morning after Blade’s trial. When once again she pleaded for Blade’s life and argued his innocence, Colonel Greer expressed true remorse for having to end a man’s life. But since he found no evidence to suggest Blade wasn’t guilty of the crime, he felt dutybound to follow the dictates of the law.
“Justice will be served, my dear,” he said grimly. “I appreciate your feelings, but the trial was a fair one. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I’d like to see Blade before—before—”
“I don’t think that is wise, Shannon.”
“Please, I must see him.”
Unbidden tears came to her eyes, producing just the picture Shannon wished to conve
y. A compassionate man, Colonel Greer expressed true sympathy for Shannon and her ill-fated love, and felt compelled to oblige.
“Ten minutes, Shannon. You can have ten minutes with Blade. I’ll write you a pass.”
Having been granted that much, Shannon squared her shoulders and asked for more. “I’d like to speak with Blade alone.”
“It’s against my better judgment, but you have my permission,” Greer allowed. “I’ll note in the pass that you are to be given ten minutes privacy.”
Two more days, Blade thought with bleak resignation. The day after tomorrow his life would end as if he had never existed, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. His one regret was leaving Shannon. Their times together had been too few, their moments of ecstasy too brief. Yet he was grateful for what they did have; few couples were lucky enough to find so much. Then another terrible thought assailed him. What if Shannon was carrying his child? It would be difficult for her to raise a child alone, but mercifully she had a family she could go to for support. Unfortunately, that thought offered little comfort, for he’d not live to see the son or daughter he sired.
Damnation! Blade cursed, striking the bars in frustration. Why hadn’t the President answered Colonel Greer’s telegram? Surely the man wouldn’t let him hang for a crime he didn’t commit, would he? Blade refused to believe he’d been abandoned, preferring to think that a last-minute reprieve would arrive fully explaining his position and exonerating him.
Suddenly the guardroom door swung open and Shannon stood poised on the threshold. His heart beating furiously, Blade watched her walk down the long corridor leading to his cell. Evidently she had convinced Greer to allow them a few moments alone, for Sargeant Tyler did not accompany her.
“Shannon, you shouldn’t have come,” Blade said, devouring her with his eyes. This last sight of the woman he loved would have to last him into eternity.
“Don’t say anything,” Shannon whispered, deliberately turning her back to the guardroom door. “Listen carefully. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Dammit, Shannon,” Blade hissed from between clenched teeth, “stay out of this! I forbid you to do anything rash.”
“Forbid all you like, Blade, I won’t let you die. I love you. If there is a way to set you free, I’ll find it. Not tonight, maybe, but tomorrow night, I swear it.”
“There is nothing you can do, Little Firebird,” Blade said, smiling wistfully. “If the president refused to acknowledge me or my work, what do you expect to accomplish?”
“Miracles,” Shannon said cryptically. “The president doesn’t love you as I do. I’ll think of something. Just be prepared to act swiftly.”
“I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try to stop this travesty of justice.”
“Time is up, Miss Branigan.” Sargeant Tyler stood at the end of the dim corridor, holding the door open for Shannon.
“Kiss me, Blade, and wish me luck,” Shannon whispered almost frantically. She had to free Blade! If he perished, something inside of her would wither and die along with him.
Their parting kiss was sweet and slow and so filled with love. Shannon couldn’t stop the tears that gathered in her eyes.
“Good-bye, Little Firebird,” Blade choked out. He was so certain he would never see her again that his eyes filled with tears.
“Not good-bye, Blade, never good-bye. We’ll meet again, maybe not soon, but we will see each other again. Tomorrow night, be ready.” Without another word, she turned and walked away.
Though Blade knew in his heart there was little Shannon could do to free him, he loved her all the more for her indomitable spirit and incorrigible optimism. He adored her for her unflagging courage and giving nature. If will alone could free him, Shannon would surely find a way.
Shannon spent the remaining hours of that day, including those she should have spent sleeping, formulating then discarding dozens of plans to free Blade from jail. Each one was worked out meticulously in her mind, then promptly rejected. When morning arrived Shannon had finally settled on a strategy that could work—provided she found an accomplice. Alone, she hadn’t a prayer of freeing Blade, but with an accomplice her chances improved dramatically. The problem was locating someone willing to break the law. A wide smile lit Shannon’s features when she finally came up with the name of a man who just might be persuaded to join her in her madcap scheme.
“I came as soon as I received your message, Shannon. What is so urgent? Why must I tell no one?”
Shannon had asked one of her Indian students to take the message to Nigel Bruce, knowing it would be more difficult to trace that way.
“Come inside and close the door, Nigel. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”
“This is serious, isn’t it?”
“A man’s life is at stake.”
“A man’s life! Are you referring to the half-breed they call Blade? There are rumors circulating about the two of you but I put no faith in them.” Shannon flinched at the hint of reproach in Nigel’s voice.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, Nigel,” Shannon said slowly, “but I want you to know the truth. I love Blade and he loves me. He is no more guilty of murder than I am. He is a special investigator for the president, but Colonel Greer refuses to believe him.”
“I understand the evidence against him was quite convincing,” Nigel said, more than a little shocked by Shannon’s astounding confession.
Nigel did not feel the same hatred for Indians the American harbored, but murder was a vile crime. Still, he trusted Shannon, had faith in her judgement, and if she said Blade was innocent, he tended to believe her.
“Someone deliberately made it look as if Blade committed the murder by planting false evidence,” Shannon explained. “Blade may be capable of many things, but cold-blooded murder isn’t one of them. Major Vance and Blade were friends, as well as being involved in an investigation that I cannot divulge at this time. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“I must confess I’m shocked by—what you have just told me,” Nigel said. Thinking of Shannon with another man wasn’t pleasant. Truth to tell, he had hoped … ah well, it just wasn’t meant to be. “I do trust you, but I’m puzzled by your reason for confiding in me.”
“I need your help, Nigel,” Shannon said. “I can’t do it alone.”
“Do what? Surely you don’t—no—not even you would dare,” he sputtered, becoming excited at what Shannon was suggesting.
“I simply can’t let Blade die without trying. I still believe the president will vindicate Blade, but it may be too late. We have to act tonight. I’ve already alerted Blade.”
“Bloody good show!” Nigel crowed, properly impressed. “By God, I wish your heart weren’t engaged elsewhere. I’ll never find another woman like you.”
“Then you’ll help me?”
“Why not? I’m ripe for a bit of adventure. Should prove quite interesting. I don’t know Blade well, but if you love him, he can’t be a bad sort. Since there is no longer any hope for me where you are concerned, I’ll be moving on soon. I may as well make a grand exit. Tell me your plan.”
“How are you at stealing horses?”
“I understand one of my ancestors was a horse thief, so I imagine I shall take to it naturally. Where is the horse I’m to steal?”
“It’s Warrior, Blade’s gray pony. He’s stabled in the corral with the cavalry horses. I suggest you identify him in daylight, then go in for him after dark. Leave by the postern gate and take him across the river. Tether him in the grove of cottonwoods growing there. I’ll give you a list of supplies to pack in the saddle bags. You must accomplish all this by ten o’clock tonight and be concealed behind the guardhouse when I pass by.”
“What will happen then?” Nigel asked eagerly. His admiration for Shannon’s fertile mind grew by leaps and bounds. Everything had been well thought out.
“Here’s what we must do,”
Shannon said, leaning close. Then she proceeded to tell Nigel exactly what to expect.
“Grand, just grand!” Nigel exclaimed. “It should work if luck is with us.”
“It will work. Luck has nothing to do with it,” Shannon retorted. “You don’t know how much your help means to me, Nigel.” Her eyes grew misty with gratitude. “I’ll always be grateful to you for your willingness to help and your trust.”
“It will be a noble adventure, one I can tell my grandchildren about one day.”
Shannon’s head was awhirl as she carefully went over her plans for Blade’s escape later that evening on the way to Molly Greer’s house for the weekly women’s suffrage meeting. When she arrived, she was more than a little shocked to see Poker Alice and several of the other saloon girls in attendance. It was to Molly’s credit that she didn’t turn them away, for they were all committed to women’s rights, no matter what their calling.
As usual, the meeting adjourned shortly before ten o’clock and Shannon kept a strict eye on the time. As was her habit, she lingered a few minutes after the meeting, not wishing to rouse suspicion. While Molly was bidding the others good-night, Claire sidled up to Shannon, a nasty smile pasted on her face.
“Too bad about the half-breed,” she smirked. “I always knew he was dangerous, him with his bold black eyes.” She shuddered delicately. “I’ll wager those big bronze hands have more power in them than five men put together. I’m certainly glad I never—knew him well. Not like you did,” she hinted maliciously.
“Obviously you don’t know what you are talking about,” Shannon charged, curbing her famous temper. “I know Blade better than you do, and I know he’s not capable of murder.”
“I’ll bet you do know him better,” Claire hinted lewdly.
Shannon bristled angrily and would have lit into Claire despite her resolve if Molly hadn’t joined them just then. “A rewarding meeting, wouldn’t you say?” Molly was never happier than when espousing a cause.
“I was mortified when those loose women showed up,” Claire said, feigning outrage.
