Colin nodded, although his face remained passive. “We’ll see. It’s a stubborn boy he is.” Settling a hand on Brodie’s shoulder, he leaned toward him. “Are you satisfied?”
“Aye. It was a wise plan and I’m grateful for your help.”
“Ach. If it had been up to me, me and the lads would’ve taken him behind a barn and settled it the old way. You, with your sense of justice, encouraged us to do it the right way. Someday, lad, I believe you’d make a fine sheriff.”
Brodie burst out laughing at the ridiculous suggestion of becoming a lawman. “The day I start wearing a badge is the day you can put me in the ground because it is for certain I would’ve lost my mind. Come on, lads. It’s time we get home before the family sends out a search party.”
Chapter One
Conviction, California
October 1864
“Sheriff, you gotta come quick. Those Olsen boys are causing all kinds of trouble at the feed lot outside of town.”
Sheriff Brodie MacLaren sighed. He had a long night and rough morning. Now this. His best deputy had left town to follow the woman he loved to San Francisco, and another one had taken time off to help an uncle on his ranch for a few weeks. Brodie had fired another deputy for being drunk on the job, and suggested the final one leave due to his strong loyalty to Sheriff Yost, the man Brodie replaced. He needed men who were loyal to him and the town, not ones who brooded over the fact they believed they were a better choice for the job than Brodie.
All of this left him alone to watch over the riverfront community of over four thousand until he could find replacements. He’d been sheriff for a few weeks. So far, the ones who’d applied for the deputy openings didn’t match his requirements—proficient with a gun, previous work as a lawman, a desire to become a part of Conviction, and an unflappable sense of right and wrong. Brodie either had to loosen his standards or broaden his search. He’d chosen the latter.
“What are they up to, Jack?” Brodie sized up the young man who’d wandered into Conviction a year before. He swore he didn’t have a first name. Locals referred to him as Jack-of-all-trades Perkins, but most just called him Jack or Perkins. Regardless, he knew more about what went on around town than anyone else, including Brodie.
“No good, I can tell you that.”
Brodie stood, crossing his arms and pinning Jack with a cold stare.
“Hell, Sheriff. They’re doing what they usually do. Taunt someone until he’s angry and takes a swing at ‘em. Then someone else jumps in, and before you know it, it’s a doggone brawl.”
Shaking his head on a groan, Brodie strapped his gun belt on and grabbed his hat.
“Do you want me to come with you, Sheriff?” Brodie grinned at the eagerness in Jack’s voice. He had a habit of following Brodie around like a ranch dog. His zealous attitude sometimes got in the way, but proved to be a big help when Brodie needed someone to act as a messenger or keep watch on prisoners in the jail.
“Tell you what, lad. I’ve got Bob Belford sleeping it off in a cell. It’d be a big help if you’d wake him up and take him home to his wife.”
“Sure, Sheriff.” Jack beamed at what he considered an important chore, something Brodie would normally have a deputy handle—when he had one. “Maybe I could be your deputy. I mean, you know…until you find the right man. I could even wear a badge.”
Brodie put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Lad, the best way to help is to continue with what you already do for me. We keep it between us. A secret between the two of us.”
Jack’s eyes grew wide, his excitement rising. “You mean like a spy?”
“Aye. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Jack straightened his shoulders. “Yes, sir. You can count on me, Sheriff.”
Brodie breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered he was about to head into a firestorm at the feed lot. His days never failed to surprise him.
Brodie wiped the sweat from his brow, sliding his gun into its holster.
“Jack shouldn’t have sent you out here, Brodie. I told him I could handle those Olsen boys.” Stein Tharaldson held the shotgun easily in his huge hand. Towering over Brodie, and most men within fifty miles, Stein ran the feed lot and store with firm control. Congenial, even jovial most of the time, Brodie knew he possessed a keen mind and, if pushed too far, a fierce temper.
“Where are they?”
“Ran off the moment I lifted the shotgun. I never seen men run so fast and far in such a short time.” Stein’s deep, rumbling laugh had the sheriff chuckling with him. Sobering, he glanced at Brodie. “I wanted to get at least one of them in the backside—teach them both a lesson.”
He had no doubt Stein would have done it without a lick of remorse. “Did they draw their guns on you?”
Stein laughed again, shaking his head. “They have dirt for brains, but knew enough not to risk their lives by pointing a gun at me. The Olsens pick on weaker prey, those they can push around. The oldest started an argument with an old rancher I’ve known a long time. One of his ranch hands got in Olsen’s face, then all hell started. That’s when I came out with my gun.”
Brodie pushed his hat back on his forehead, looking up at the sky. He should go after the Olsens, charge them with disorderly conduct and whatever else he could to get them off the streets. There were enough witnesses.
“Do you want to press charges?”
“Not this time, Brodie. I’ve got enough to do without going through a trial once the circuit judge decides to make a visit.” Stein pulled on his reddish-blond beard. “I will if they cause trouble again.”
“It’s your decision, but I expect you to let me know if they threaten you or your customers again. I can’t let you take the law into your own hands, Stein.”
He studied the sheriff a moment. They’d known each other since the MacLarens came to the area and started their ranch, even sharing drinks with Brodie at Buckie’s Castle Saloon on many occasions. Brodie had to know he’d do what was needed to protect what was his.
“I won’t lie to you, Brodie. I’ll do what needs to be done. If it’s before you can get here, so be it.”
Brodie let out a slow breath. He knew Stein wouldn’t back down from a fight to safeguard those who mattered to him, which included the townsfolk he’d known most of his life.
Brodie took a path along the water as he rode back to the jail, pulling his collar up to fend off the late October chill. Glancing at the bustling port, he marveled at how many people came through town. Some stayed, but most left.
Nestled between the Feather and Boundary rivers, Conviction began as a small settlement in 1840. Riverboats from San Francisco and Sacramento brought miners, settlers, gamblers, and vagabonds, swelling the population from a few hundred to thousands in less than a decade.
Watching a riverboat unload its passengers, his thoughts returned to hiring deputies. He couldn’t continue putting in twenty-hour days much longer. The city fathers posted notices in Virginia City, San Francisco, and Sacramento. He needed men with experience who’d want to make the rapidly growing frontier town their home.
Taking off his hat, he resettled it lower on his forehead, wincing as he passed the Gold Dust Hotel. Colin and Sarah had ridden into town the day before, leaving a message on his desk at the jail saying they expected him to join them tonight for supper. He hadn’t responded.
The family hadn’t been happy with his decision to accept the job as sheriff rather than do what they expected and continue working the ranch. According to his father, as the oldest of Ewan and Lorna MacLaren’s six children, he had responsibilities he’d abandoned by accepting the badge.
A cold knot settled in his stomach each time he thought of how not one of his family had supported his decision. Not even Colin, Quinn, or Blain—cousins who were more like brothers—had stepped forward in his defense. As much as he wanted to see Colin and Sarah, he didn’t look forward to sitting through supper with Colin berating him for his decision.
Dismounting outsi
de the jail, he walked in on leaden feet, wanting nothing more than to lay down in one of the cells and sleep. Sitting down at the desk, he picked up the message from Colin, knowing he had no choice but to join Sarah and him for supper.
Pushing up from the desk, he grabbed the keys before heading to the back. Four cells lined the back wall. During his weeks as sheriff, he’d never had more than two people locked inside.
The cell where Bob Belford had slept off his drunken night was in good order. The furniture consisted of two beds, a small desk, and a chair. More than in most jails. He suspected Jack had something to do with nothing being amiss. Perhaps the lad would make a good deputy. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Turning toward the front, Brodie let out a deep sigh, knowing he had to send a message to Colin.
“Let’s go to lunch, then see if we can find him.” Sarah MacLaren glanced at Colin as he escorted her downstairs to the hotel dining room.
A large town by most frontier standards, Conviction boasted four hotels. All offered meals, although the quality had always been best at the Gold Dust.
This afternoon, though, Colin found it hard to enjoy his venison stew and biscuits. His mind kept returning to Brodie and how much he missed him. Perhaps his cousin would listen to reason and return home. He couldn’t imagine running the ranch without him.
“Look there.” Sarah stared out the window at the jail.
Turning in his chair, following her gaze, he saw Brodie ride up on Hunter and dismount. Scanning the boardwalk, he tipped his hat at a passing couple, then disappeared inside the jail.
“At least we know he’s in town.” Colin finished eating, pushing his plate away, noticing Sarah watching him. “What?”
“You don’t plan to charge over there and demand he come home, do you?”
“As much as I’d like to, no. We’ll invite him to supper, find out if he’s met the new neighbor south of us, and that’s all. No matter how much I don’t like or understand it, I know it’s his decision.”
Walking across the street, Colin noticed several more stores than he’d seen on his last trip to town, and new buildings seemed to be going up on every corner. The hotel clerk mentioned two more saloons and a few shops would be moving into the spaces. The growth made him realize how much Conviction needed a strong sheriff. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew Brodie would make an exceptional lawman, better than anyone Colin could think of.
Opening the door to the jail, they spotted Brodie walking from the back where the cells were located.
“I wondered when you two would be coming to pay me a visit. Good afternoon, Sarah.” Brodie brushed a kiss across her cheek before setting the keys on his desk, shifting to look behind Colin. “Quinn didn’t come with you?”
“Not this trip. Sarah and I rode in alone. We’re hoping you can take time to join us for supper tonight.”
“We’d like to spend time with you, Brodie. Please say you will.” Sarah reached out, taking his hand and squeezing it.
He sent her a broad smile, unlike the wary welcome he’d offered Colin. “I’d like to meet you for supper, as long as you don’t try to change my mind about taking the sheriff’s job.” He nodded toward a couple chairs.
“You keeping busy?” Colin asked, pulling out a chair for Sarah.
“You’d be surprised—”
Brodie’s head snapped around as the door burst open and a woman he’d never seen dashed inside. Taking deep breaths, she looked out the window, then turned toward Brodie, gasping for air.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Are you the sheriff?” She turned to glance out the window once again.
“Aye.”
Shifting back toward him, she wrapped her arms around her waist, eyes wide. “I hope you can help me. I think I killed my husband.”
Chapter Two
Sarah’s shocked expression mirrored Colin’s and Brodie’s. The woman looked to be no more than seventeen years old. She wore a thin coat over a calico dress with a ruffled collar and white pinafore, which seemed more suitable for a much younger girl. Wisps of dark red hair, falling loose from what appeared to be a hastily prepared bun, set off clear blue eyes and framed a pale face dotted with freckles.
If the distress on her face wasn’t so acute, they might have mistaken her for a woman not quite right in the head. Her trembling body, shaky breath, and wide, frightened eyes spoke of a woman ready to break.
Striding to her, Brodie took her elbow, guiding her to a nearby chair.
“Sit down and tell me what happened, Mrs…”
“King. I mean, Stoddard.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes, Stoddard.”
Brodie glanced at Colin and Sarah, not sure what to make of her confusion.
“Is it King or Stoddard?”
She gripped her hands together in her lap, squeezing tight, forcing herself to relax. Looking at Brodie, her breath caught. His intense moss green eyes were rimmed with black and dotted with golden flecks. At the moment, they bored into hers, making her squirm in the chair. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her gaze roamed the room, stopping briefly on the stove and gun rack before returning to Brodie.
“It’s Stoddard now, but not by choice.”
His brows lifted. “And your first name?” Brodie prodded, trying to keep his patience.
“Marguerite, but everyone calls me Maggie.” Her quiet, nervous laugh was out of place given the announcement she’d made. “My mama used to call me Princess Maggie King. It seems so silly now.” She let out a low sob before covering her mouth with a shaky hand. A moment passed before she spoke again. “My maiden name is King.”
Neither Stoddard nor King meant anything to Brodie. “Sarah, would you mind pouring Mrs. Stoddard a cup of coffee?”
Sarah rushed to the stove, grabbing a dented tin cup, filling it to the top. Glancing down at the murky liquid, she wondered how long it had been sitting in the pot. Shrugging, she knelt down next to Maggie.
“Here you are, lass. It may help you calm yourself.” Sarah held out the cup, grateful when Maggie took it from her hand.
“Perhaps it would be best if Sarah and I left—” Colin began.
“No.” Maggie’s eyes widened in alarm as she reached out to grip Sarah’s arm. “Please don’t go.”
Sarah patted her hand. “I won’t go, not if you’d like me to stay.” She sent an apologetic look to Brodie, surprised when he returned a grateful smile.
Pulling up a chair, Brodie sat facing Maggie. He leaned toward her, his arms braced on his thighs. “All right, Mrs. Stoddard. You said something about killing your husband?”
She nodded, not looking at him.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened.”
Biting her bottom lip, she shot a quick glance at Sarah, who nodded her encouragement.
“Arnie came home drunk and angry.”
“Your husband’s name is Arnie?” Brodie asked.
“He’s not my real husband. Arnold Stoddard is his full name, but he prefers Arnie.”
“All right. You can tell me why he’s not your real husband later. So, Arnie came home drunk last night.”
“It was very late. Arnie said someone at Buckie’s Castle cheated him out of most of his money. He was too drunk to stand. He took his bottle of whiskey, walked into the bedroom, and passed out. When he woke up this morning, he drained the rest of the bottle and started yelling, grabbing me and shoving me around.”
Brodie had noticed the dark bruise on her cheek. “Is that when you got that?” He indicated the spot on her face, anger swelling in him at what the man had done.
“Yes. When he’s drunk, which is most of the time, his temper takes over. I never know what he’ll do.” She looked at him, her face showing no emotion. “When he’d leave for town, I’d pray he wouldn’t come home.” Sitting back in her chair, she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Opening them, she continued. “I know it’s wrong, but I hated Arnie, hated the way he treated me, hated what he…wha
t he…” Her voice caught on a sob. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to stop the tears.
Standing, Sarah wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right, Maggie. Take as much time as you need.”
A few minutes later, she dropped her hands. “We aren’t married, Sheriff. Not properly.”
Brodie pondered this a moment, needing to understand what she meant. “Why were you with him then?”
Her face drained of color as she caught her bottom lip in her teeth. “It’s been close to two years now. My family traveled from Illinois to Colorado after my father sold our farm and bought a business in Denver. When we arrived, my father met with the banker who helped him with the purchase. That’s when he found out there were problems. I didn’t understand what happened. All I remember is my father being very angry and my mother trying to calm him down. One night, they left the hotel room, leaving me to watch my two younger brothers.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, pain filling her red-rimmed eyes. “I woke in the middle of the night to find two men in the room. My parents’ bed was empty and my brothers were sound asleep. Before I could say a word, the men gagged me and used something to knock me out.”
“Chloroform?” Colin guessed.
Maggie shrugged. “After several days of traveling, we ended up in Nevada. They stowed me in a cabin, checking on me a couple times a day. It must have been at least five days later when they returned with three other men. One was Arnie Stoddard. He paid the men before loading me onto a wagon.”
“He paid for you?” Brodie couldn’t hide his disgust. “Forced you to live with him?”
She nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Arnie told me if anyone asked, I was to say we were husband and wife. He said if I didn’t do what he ordered, I’d be sorry. I tried once to get a message to a family we met on the trail. When Arnie found out, he beat me until I couldn’t stand.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I didn’t try again.”
Sarah placed a hand on her stomach, nausea sweeping through her at what the young woman had endured.
Brodie's Gamble Page 2
