Brodie's Gamble

by Shirleen Davies

Brodie’s face softened. “Did you know the man has a law degree?”

  “Are we speaking of Joel Stoddard, Arnie’s brother?”

  “Aye. I’m guessing he never told you.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled the blanket up below her chin, then looked up at him. “You don’t believe I killed Arnie?”

  “No, lass. I don’t.”

  “Then why put me back in jail?”

  He let out a deep sigh, lowering himself into the chair. “As the sheriff, I can’t just let you go on what I believe. We have to do this right. Fielder is your best chance. He’s doing this because he believes you are innocent. Clearing your name and finding the real killer is what will give you peace. You’ll have a future, Maggie. One where you can fall in love and have a family.”

  A flash of hope crossed her face before she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let myself believe this nightmare will go away because you believe it will. Unless you already know who killed Arnie.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, searching her face. “Who wanted Arnie dead, Maggie? Who hated him enough to kill him?” An almost hysterical laugh answered him.

  “Everyone hated Arnie. I can’t think of a single person who wouldn’t have a reason to kill him.”

  “All right. It’s a start, although quite a broad one. Do you know of anyone who threatened him, spoke of killing him?”

  Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she closed her eyes, remembering the day Arnie and Joel had their last fight. Or the day Syd had stormed off to San Francisco on orders from Arnie. Both had spoken of wishing their brother to hell or wishing him dead, although she’d never believed either had been serious. As much as they hated Arnie, each could’ve ridden out at any time. It wasn’t as if some hidden fortune bound them together.

  “Neither Joel or Syd would’ve come back to kill him. It would have been easier for them to leave, get as far away as possible.” Inhaling a shaky breath, she remembered two people who’d been to the cabin before his death. “An outlaw named Tom Franks rode in late one night a couple weeks before Arnie died. He said Arnie owed him money from a hotel robbery. Arnie pulled a gun on him and told him to ride out, never come back. A few days later, another man found us. I’m not sure of his name.” She thought a moment, her brows drawing together. “There were others, but that was before we moved into the deserted cabin.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember any other names.”

  “Was it unusual for you to have visitors at the cabin?”

  “Other than Joel and Syd, no one ever came to the cabin. Tom was the only one.” Maggie closed her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

  He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want to leave her at the clinic. She needed to be in the jail where he could watch over her, be near her. “Maggie, I want to move you to the jail tonight.”

  She didn’t open her eyes, even as the corners of her mouth tilted up. “Not tonight, Brodie,” she breathed out. “I’m too tired.”

  He stilled at the use of his name. It sounded right coming from her lips. “Say it again, Maggie.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “My name, Maggie. Say it again.”

  His request was met with silence. Reaching for the blanket, he tightened it around her shoulders, tucking it under her. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his arms, settling in for a long night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to walk out the door and leave her behind.

  Sam leaned down, grasping Brodie’s shoulder, keeping his voice low. “Wake up, MacLaren.” It took another attempt before he jerked awake, his eyes opening to slits.

  Sitting up, he rubbed his face with both hands, then shifted his gaze to Maggie, alarm coursing through him as he stood to stare down at her.

  “Is she all right?” It wasn’t so much a question as a demand.

  “From what I can see, the lady is fine.” Sam couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. Brodie hadn’t mentioned a word about his feelings, but they were clear to anyone who watched and listened.

  Brodie whipped around, pinning Sam with a hard glare.

  Sam held his hands up, taking a step back. “It’s long past sunup, Fielder is at the jail waiting to speak with you, and your new deputy has arrived.”

  “New deputy?”

  “He says you replied to his telegram, asking him to ride out. Nathan Hollis, a captain in the Union Army.”

  Brodie mumbled a curse at the same time Doc Vickery walked in the back door. He’d forgotten about the man’s inquiry and his return message.

  “My apologies, gentlemen. I must have overslept.” He continued toward the bed, unaware of the tension in the room a moment before. “How is the patient this morning?”

  “Still asleep. I don’t believe she woke up all night.” Brodie walked across the room, grabbing his hat off a hook before taking another glance at Maggie. “I’ll be at the jail, Doc. Let me know when she wakes up. I plan to move her over there this morning.”

  “You know how I feel about that, Sheriff.”

  “Aye, but I’ve not changed my mind. The lass will be going back to the jail today.” He didn’t look at Sam as he walked outside, inhaling a deep breath of the crisp morning air, which turned his thoughts to Thanksgiving.

  The previous year, President Lincoln had proclaimed it an official holiday, and the MacLarens had embraced it wholeheartedly, the women preparing a meal meant to feed an army. It had been a wonderful day, as well as the first and only time the entire family had celebrated the holiday. The thought of Colin’s father, Angus, and Quinn’s father, Gillis, had his stomach clenching. Both had been murdered while Colin, Quinn, and Brodie traveled to fetch Sarah. He knew the grief would take years to heal.

  “MacLaren, wait up.” Sam came up beside him as Brodie stepped to the jail door. “There’s something you need to know about Hollis.”

  “Not now, Sam. Fielder’s already been waiting long enough.” Brodie pushed open the door, stopping at the sight of a man sitting in one of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other, his right arm gesturing as if telling a story. Brodie’s gaze narrowed on the man’s left arm. It had been amputated below the elbow.

  “Good morning, Sheriff MacLaren.” Fielder extended his hand. “Hollis and I were sharing stories of our time back east. Seems we know a few of the same people.”

  The initial shock wore off as Brodie walked forward to grasp Fielder’s hand, then turned as Hollis stood. “I’m Sheriff MacLaren. Sam tells me you’re Nathan Hollis.” He gripped the man’s hand in his, feeling the strength.

  “Yes, sir, I am. It took me a few days longer to arrive than planned. I hope the job is still available.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it, Sheriff.” Jack walked up next to Nathan. “When Sam and I got to the River Belle last night, Hollis already had two men on their backs and a third against the wall. And he hadn’t even drawn his gun.”

  “That right, Hollis?” Brodie took a good look at the man, noting his tall frame and wide girth, although he doubted the man had an ounce of fat on him.

  Shrugging, his mouth curved into a smile. “They aren’t the first to underestimate me.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I assure you, I’ll not be that man. We’re glad to have you, Nathan.”

  “If you call me Nate, we have a deal.”

  “Nate it is then.” Brodie reached into his desk, picked up a badge, and tossed it to his newest deputy, then turned toward Jack. “I’d like you to show Nate around Conviction.”

  “Sure will, Sheriff. You know you can count on me.” He turned towards Hollis. “Come on, Captain. Guess we don’t need to go by the docks.” Jack laughed at his own joke. “You’ve probably seen as much of it as you want to for a few days.”

  “Do you have a horse, Nate?” Brodie asked as the men started outside.

  “Brought him, along with all I own, on the boat with me.”

  “Good. Jack, show Nate where he’ll be staying.”

  “The boardinghouse will be our f
irst stop, Sheriff.”

  Brodie waited until they’d left, then faced Fielder. “I spoke with Miss King last night. She gave me the name of a man who threatened Stoddard.”

  Sam moved forward. “If you have a name, I can track him down.”

  Fielder stepped between the two. “A good beginning, gentleman. Now the hard work begins.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Later that afternoon, Brodie brought Sam and Nate with him to transfer Maggie to the jail. Doc Vickery and Gwen did what they could to get her ready, all the while not hiding their disdain about his decision. To her credit, Maggie said nothing, even wrapping her arms around Brodie’s neck as he carried her across the street, Sam on one side of him and Nate on the other.

  Maggie’s body pressed against his, her face nuzzling his neck as her warm breath washed across his skin, straining his limits. For a brief moment, he considered handing her off to Sam, then quickly pushed it from his mind. The thought of another man holding her so close triggered a jealous reaction he couldn’t think about right now. He reminded himself she was a temptation he didn’t need, even as his mind screamed she belonged to him.

  “The cell is all ready for her.” Jack held the door open, stepping aside to let them pass. Poking his head outside, he saw few people had turned their way, an indication the town had already lost interest in Maggie as they worked to rebuild the town.

  Brodie kicked the cell door open, sliding Maggie from his arms and onto the bed. “I’m sorry, lass.” His mumbled apology seemed a poor excuse for his decision to move her into the cold, bleak space.

  She didn’t immediately release her arms from around his neck, her wide blue eyes staring into his. Desire swelled when he saw the heat he felt reflected back at him. Her porcelain skin had paled even more during her recovery, enhancing the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. He wanted to kiss each one, then capture her lips with his. Before he could finish the thought, her arms dropped to her sides and she shifted her gaze away.

  “You can leave now. I’ll be fine.” Her flat voice squeezed his heart, carving a deep hole in his chest.

  Straightening, he noticed Sam and Nate retreating to the front of the jail, giving them privacy.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  The flash of cold, steely eyes gave him his answer before she spoke.

  “No. I’d prefer to be alone, Sheriff.” Grabbing a blanket with her right hand, she leaned against the wall, doing her best to spread it across her legs, sending Brodie a warning look when he leaned down to help. “I can do this.” The words were sharp and full of pain—pain he believed wasn’t all physical.

  Squatting next to the bed, he picked up her hand, threading his fingers through hers, waiting for her to look at him. When she didn’t, he let out a deep sigh.

  “I told Fielder about Tom Franks. Sam is already trying to track him down.”

  She glanced at him for a brief moment before turning away, but not before he saw hope rise and then fade from her face. “You won’t find him.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “And why is that, lass?”

  She licked her lips, a nervous gesture he’d come to recognize. “Arnie always said Tom was more ghost than man. Arnie said he could disappear into the wind without a trace left behind.”

  “I’ll let Sam know. He likes nothing more than a challenge.” Brodie’s eyes crinkled at the thought. He knew Sam had already sent word to Allan Pinkerton, welcoming any help the man could provide. According to Sam, he believed there was a special place in Hell for men who took advantage of women, such as Arnie Stoddard. Pinkerton had replied within an hour, confirming he’d do what he could to locate Franks.

  “I know you’re trying to help me, and I’m grateful. It’s just…”

  “What, Maggie?” Brodie gripped her hand tighter, his eyes searching hers.

  She shook her head and looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

  “If you’re thinking it’s hopeless, you’d be wrong, lass.”

  “MacLaren. You’d better come out and listen to this.” Sam stood a few feet from the cell, his gaze switching between Brodie and their joined hands.

  He let go of Maggie’s hand and stood. “Get some rest. If you need anything, call for me or one of the deputies.”

  She nodded, her expression one of crushing hopelessness. He wished he had more to offer, some type of promise all would be fine. As much as Brodie believed she’d make it through this and Fielder would secure her freedom, he couldn’t swear to it.

  Locking the cell, he walked to the front and stepped outside, hearing Syd Stoddard’s now familiar voice. At least twenty men stood outside Buckie’s Castle, listening to him rant about his brother’s murder and the woman being held in jail.

  “She don’t need no trial.” Syd’s booming voice rang out up and down the street, causing people to stop and stare. “There’s only one person who wanted Arnie dead.” He pointed toward the jail. “That person is sitting in the jail, waiting for a judge who won’t be in town for weeks. You know who is paying for men to watch her and feed her? The good people of Conviction, that’s who.”

  A low rumbling spread through the crowd, although no one made a move toward the jail.

  “There ain’t no need for a trial.”

  “What are you saying, Syd? We can’t just storm in there and hang a woman.” An older man Brodie recognized as a hand at one of the local ranches stepped forward. “If you have proof she did it, tell the sheriff.”

  Brodie, Sam, and Nate spread out, moving closer to the crowd. Glancing over his shoulder, Brodie saw Jack standing in the jail doorway, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. He remembered the evening he’d taken Jack outside to see a demonstration of his shooting skills. Given what he’d seen, he would’ve placed money on Jack taking care of the crowd in front of them all by himself.

  Syd ignored the cowhand’s attempt at reason. “She and my brother lived alone in an old cabin up in the hills. She admitted to hitting him over the head and leaving him for dead. I don’t need no more proof than that.”

  A few in the crowd nodded, some looking at Brodie and his deputies. Still, no one moved toward the jail.

  Brodie had heard enough. “Mr. Stoddard. I’m going to ask you to stop trying to tempt these fine people into doing something they’ll regret.”

  “They ain’t going to regret hanging a murderer.”

  Brodie stepped next to Stoddard and faced the crowd. “The woman in there is going to get a fair trial. You all know August Fielder.” He watched as most nodded. “You know he doesn’t take on many cases. He’s convinced she’s innocent and has agreed to defend her. I don’t know about you, but I have to take his actions into consideration.”

  “That don’t mean anything.”

  A shot rang out before Syd could continue, the bullet hitting the ground inches from Brodie’s feet. Shouts and screams followed as people scattered, most heading for cover inside the saloon.

  Brodie pulled his gun as he, Sam, and Nate dashed back toward the jail. “You two see anyone?”

  “No.” Sam held his gun in front of him, scanning the windows above the saloon.

  “It came from up there.” Nate pointed to the building next to Buckie’s.

  “The bank?” Brodie asked.

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “I believe Nate’s right, Sheriff.” Jack glanced at Brodie from his position a few feet away. “The shot hit the ground just behind you.”

  “As far as I know, the upstairs is used for storage. I’d better go check it out.”

  “Not alone, MacLaren.” Sam moved alongside him as Brodie stepped onto the street.

  “Nate, stay here with Jack. Make sure no one gets to Maggie.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nate backed into the jail, followed by Jack, then closed the door.

  “One cartridge. Fits what we heard.” Sam bent down, picking up the only evidence someone had fired from the window a foot away. “But why shoot at you? It was
n’t that hard a shot.” He glanced out the window to the street below. “Anyone with a little experience could have hit you from here.”

  “A warning. Maybe it wasn’t meant to hit either Stoddard or me. Perhaps it was intended to disperse the crowd.”

  “Someone tired of hearing Stoddard. If I’d have thought of it, I might have done the same.” Sam grinned as he turned away from the window, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt.

  “You’ve an odd sense of humor, lad.”

  “You’ve no idea, MacLaren.”

  They took one more look around the almost empty room above the bank before leaving for the jail. Brodie didn’t break stride as he walked inside and headed for Maggie’s cell.

  “She’s doing fine,” Jack called, but Brodie didn’t hear him.

  Unlocking the cell, he took quiet steps to the bed, hearing Maggie’s deep breathing. For the first time in over an hour, he relaxed, letting out the breath he’d been holding. He tried not to make noise as he sat beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. Brodie didn’t know how it happened, how his life had become so connected to hers. Being near her, touching her, had become as important to him as air, food, and water.

  Moving his hand, he fingered a strand of her deep mahogany locks. Gwen had washed Maggie’s hair, brushing until it shone, letting it fall in soft curls around her shoulders. She’d offered to braid it for Maggie before Brodie carried her to the jail. Maggie had refused, saying she liked the feel of it against her skin. He agreed, stroking her head.

  “Brodie…” Her sleepy voice drew him closer.

  “I’m here, lass.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll stay here all night if you want me to.” He cupped her face with his hand, stroking a finger down her cheek.

  Turning, she kissed his palm, then placed her own hand over his. “I wish my life were different.”

  Clearing the lump in his throat, which had formed the instant her lips touched his skin, Brodie leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his voice husky. “Different in what way, lass?”