“I… I don’t know,” he whined.
Jason took a deep breath. “What was he wearing? Do you remember? Did he dress like the marshal?”
Dusty shook his head. “Not… not like the marshal.”
“Did he wear a uniform? Like—”
“Yeah,” Dusty said with a hiccoughing nod. “A… army man.”
With a sharp intake of breath, Jason squeezed Dusty hard against his chest. Dammit, she’d done it after all. After everything he’d said to her yesterday… Now, guilty or innocent, Buck was as good as dead.
Shivering against the cold, damp air, Rachel tugged the corners of her shawl together and walked carefully through the fog. Her eyes felt heavy and sandy. Another sleepless night. She’d sat in the window seat, staring outside for hours, hearing Jason’s voice tell her that August Weber had been the man who had beaten him.
The words had hit her like the lash of a whip. Her sweet, darling Jason. He should hate her. She, who had so foolishly and naïvely taken her father-in-law’s side in her arguments with Jason. Why she’d felt the need to defend the man, she’d never know. Maybe it was because she’d so desperately wanted him to find Jeremy’s killer and be gone from her life.
No wonder Jason had been so harsh with her when they’d first met. Through the thick curtain of her anguish, she vaguely remembered the terse way he’d treated her that morning. Perhaps what he’d said in anger about hiring her to keep an eye on her was the truth. In light of everything she now knew about her husband and his father, she no longer doubted it.
She bit her lower lip hard enough to make it hurt. Everything was clear to her now. Her husband had stolen from Jason’s people and her father-in-law had nearly killed him. It was a miracle Jason could stand to look at her. And how could she look August Weber in the face without revealing what she’d learned about him—and what she now felt?
She’d tossed and turned all night, unable to decide what to do about Buck. Telling Tully or her father-in-law about her suspicions would surely mark Buck as a dead man; Jason was right about that. And if Buck were killed, his poor little boy would be an orphan—as she’d been. That kind of life wasn’t fair for any child. She didn’t want to be responsible for any more killing. There’d been enough to last a lifetime.
“Rachel? That you?” The marshal’s voice, somewhere behind her, penetrated the fog.
She turned, squinting into the wet air. “Good morning, Marshal. I’ve never seen anything quite this thick.”
“Yep, yep, wetter’n rain.” He fell into step beside her, shortening his considerably to match hers. “Glad I run into you. Your father-in-law has himself a prisoner at my jail. I don’t mind tellin’ you the man ain’t one of my favorite people, but as a Cavalry man, he’s entitled to use my facilities.”
Rachel’s stomach did a flip-flop. “He has a prisoner? Who is it?”
“Buck Randall.”
Her stomach plunged. “Jason’s friend?”
“That’s the one. Cap’n Weber sent me to find you and bring you to the jail.” He snorted. “Actually, it was an order.”
His sarcasm was evident. No doubt the captain had barged in and thrown his weight around—as usual, she thought derisively. Nervously, she cleared her throat.
“I wonder what he needs with me.” Oh, she didn’t wonder at all. She knew what he wanted. Now, after all of her soul-searching, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do about it.
“Dunno. Just said to find you and bring you on over.”
Rachel’s steps automatically slowed. Did he think she could identify him? Is that what he wanted? She’d already told him she couldn’t, and although recent events had given her cause to change her mind, there was no reason for him to believe that, for she hadn’t seen him in days.
Suddenly they were in front of the jail, and Rachel felt the old, familiar nausea coat her stomach. As she stepped inside, she noticed the fire burning in the stove in the center of the room, the embers glowing from behind the heavy glass door. Captain Weber sat at the marshal’s old, wooden desk, writing something in a ledger.
Tossing her a triumphant, arrogant smile, he blotted the page and slammed the ledger shut. “Good news, Rachel. I’ve caught the bastard.”
Her stomach lurched. “You… you have?”
“I have.” He pushed the marshal’s chair back and stood. “Come,” he ordered. “Follow me.”
Feeling as if a weight had been tied to her ankles, she followed him back into the alcove where the prisoners were kept. As she stepped into the room, the first person she saw was Jason. He stood beside the cell and glared at her, his expression betraying his feelings. It was obvious that he thought Rachel had turned Buck in. She went cold inside.
Shaking her head, she gave him a pleading look, but he turned away, refusing to acknowledge her. She moved toward him, needing him to understand that she’d done nothing to bring about this capture. “Jason, please, I—”
“Rachel,” Captain Weber said, coming up behind her. “There’s only one thing I want from you.”
She turned and stared at her father-in-law, hoping her expression was passive. She knew only too well what he wanted her to do. “What… what’s that?”
Weber stepped to the cell. “Well, savage. Anything to say for yourself?”
Buck scowled and turned away, moving toward the back of the cage.
“Come closer, Rachel.”
Rachel swallowed and stepped closer to the cell. She stared at Buck’s back. All she had to do was tell her father-in-law what she’d told Jason yesterday, and this whole nightmare would be over. Over. Her glance drifted to Jason. His fists were shoved deep into his pockets and a muscle worked in his jaw. His scowl was revealing. He blamed her. And why shouldn’t he? Yesterday she’d left him with the impression that Buck had to pay for his crimes.
“Well, Rachel? Tell me,” Captain Weber said smoothly. “Is this the savage you saw that morning? The one who murdered my son… your husband… and mutilated him?”
She winced, remembering the picture of Jeremy’s body lying before her, the stumps where his hands had been, still oozing blood.
Once again, she looked at Buck. He had turned and met her gaze. Hatred made his eyes burn like black fire. He bore his malice for her like a badge of honor. But there was something else, too. A vulnerability. A powerless sense of despair. It made her ache; it made her want to cry.
Her gaze rested on his face. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, the picture of Jeremy’s killer loomed before her. It pressed forward in her memory as if it had been sketched in harsh, black ink. The sharp nose, the high cheekbones, the black, angry eyes—and the deep white scar slashed across his cheek. Realization was like a slap across the face. Blinking her eyes, she drew them to Buck’s cheek. Nothing. Both were smooth except for the faint shadow of black whiskers.
It’s not him. Her strength left her, and she leaned against the pillar in front of the cell for support.
“Well, Rachel?”
She blinked nervously, startled by her father-in-law’s accusatory voice. “Wh-What?”
“Is this the savage who killed Jeremy?”
“He deserved to die,” Buck snarled, stepping so close to the bars that she could smell the faint odor of stale whiskey.
Stunned by Buck’s admission, Rachel faltered and stepped backward. Her hand automatically went to her throat and she clasped the edges of the shawl in her fist.
“They both did,” Buck spat. “Whoever killed them should be rewarded, not punished.”
“You did it, you dirty savage,” Weber barked. “Don’t try to pawn the guilt off on someone else.”
Buck’s sneer spoke volumes. “Don’t I wish. I’d gladly pay for this crime if I’d had the pleasure of committing it.”
“No one said you could talk, savage.” Weber threatened him with his fist.
Buck’s face filled with loathing. “You arrogant, pig-faced son of a whore.”
> Weber’s face turned dangerously red and his eyes bulged, but somehow he restrained himself.
“No one in this goddamn room is innocent,” Buck went on. “No one. There are only two innocent people in this whole frigging mess. My dead wife… and my son. And as far as I can see, they’re the only ones who’ve paid.”
He gripped the bars and sneered at them. “Do what you want with me. I don’t give a goddamn. My life isn’t worth shit anymore!”
His hot, angry gaze stopped on Rachel. “And you,” he said, his voice filled with hatred. “I hope that bastard you married and that fornicating schoolmaster are burning in your sanctimonious Christian hell.” He flung a mouthful of spit at her.
The glob hit Rachel’s hand, slid across her skin, and dropped onto her skirt. She froze, the nausea building inside her. She tried to wipe the spittle away, but she couldn’t move her hand. Always uncomfortable with someone’s anger, her feelings were compounded when it was aimed at her. She felt sick, hurt. All she knew for sure was that Buck didn’t act like a guilty man, only like one who no longer wanted to live.
“Son of a bitch!” Weber yelled, his arms lunging through the bars, his fingers around Buck’s throat. “You’re dead, you murdering savage!”
Rachel stumbled backward, trying to get out of the way. Jason attacked Weber, grabbing his hands, trying to pry them loose. Buck’s face was pushed against the bars and his hands went to the captain’s hair, pulling, grabbing, tugging…
She watched the fight with a sense of detachment. Even though she’d discovered Buck wasn’t the one who’d actually killed Jeremy, she could still implicate him in Jeremy’s death. His hatred told her he was probably guilty of something. All she had to do was point her finger. Or nod her head. Or say simply, “Yes, he’s the one I saw.” But this had to end. The violence and the killing and the hatred—it all had to stop somewhere.
“No,” she murmured. The foray continued, Jason and Captain Weber pushing and snarling at one another like angry dogs. “No!”
Everyone stopped. They turned and stared at her.
“Rachel?” Weber’s voice.
“He’s… he’s not the one I saw.” She sank into a chair and shook her head. “It isn’t him. The one I saw had a long white scar over his right cheek.” She closed her eyes and put her face in her hands.
“Dammit, Rachel,” Weber swore. “This is insane. You said the savage was guilty; I heard you with my own ears.”
Unable to believe what he’d just done, she raised her head and stared at him. “No,” she replied, quaking with fresh fear. “I didn’t tell you that.” Her gaze flew to Jason, whose look pierced her soul. “I… I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t.”
“Rachel, Rachel,” her father-in-law said around an evil smile. “It’s too late, my dear. The deed is done. You can’t go around changing your mind whenever it suits you.”
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It pressed upward, accelerating her nausea, for he was purposely trying to implicate her. “No,” she whispered. “I… I won’t let you do this. You… you can’t make me admit to something I didn’t say.”
Weber’s hateful chuckle scraped her skin. “But you did say it, Rachel.”
“But, I—” She looked at Jason, hoping to find strength or sympathy or support, but she found only hate and disappointment. Turning back to her father-in-law, she said, “If I don’t identify him, you can’t charge him. You can’t.”
Weber shrugged expansively. “I’ll wait. I have nothing but time, Rachel. Sooner or later, the savage will be dealt with.” He gave her a malevolent grin. “I’d rather it be sooner, but,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll wait. I always get what I want. You should know that.”
Marshal Tully ambled into the room. “Sounds like a lot of ruckus back here.”
“Oh, Marshal,” Rachel said, rushing to him. “If I don’t identify Buck, he can’t take him away, can he?”
Tully scratched his head. “I expect he can do whatever he wants to, Rachel. He’s the army law, and Jeremy Weber was an army officer. Sorry,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Could be Buck didn’t actually kill Weber, but he ain’t got proof he wasn’t there.” He gave her a helpless shrug. “ ’Fraid it’s out of my hands.”
“What… what about being innocent until proven guilty? What about that?”
“The Injuns don’t have that privilege, Rachel.”
Jason’s words came back to haunt her.… Indians aren’t considered human… Turning to her father-in-law, she threatened, “You’d better be fair. You’d better—”
He scowled. “Fair? Fair? Was it fair for the savage to mutilate my boy’s body? Was it?”
There was nothing she could do. She knew August Weber very, very well, and now that he’d found his man, she had a feeling that nothing would stand in his way.
She thought back to her argument with Jason. No one had heard them. No one was there. Unless—a sick feeling spread through her—unless her father-in-law had been, for some odd reason, listening at the window.
Giving Buck and Jason one last pleading look, she walked slowly from the room, Tully and her father-in-law right behind her. Once in the office, Weber picked up his hat and his gloves. “Don’t do anything foolish, Tully.”
Tully sighed and stretched his back. “I ain’t plannin’ to.”
“He’s still my prisoner. I’ll deal with him in my own way.”
Tully nodded impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. Just get him outa my jail as soon as possible. Right now, I got more problems than I know what to do with. I got me three dead renegades. They was found less than a mile from the reservation. With my luck, the rest of the band will come in and start shootin’ up the town.”
Rachel’s heart jumped. “Marshal! Don’t let him—”
Captain Weber interrupted. “I have some business in Sacramento, Tully. When I return, I’ll shackle Randall and take him to Fort Riley. Until then, he’s in your hands, and I’d damned well better not find out that you’ve let him go.”
Tully nodded wearily and returned to the alcove with Jason’s medical bag, leaving Rachel alone with her father-in-law. He made her sick to her stomach.
“You overheard my conversation with Jason.” Her tone was low, accusatory.
Captain Weber smirked. “Lucky for me, wasn’t it?”
“How could you? How could you turn everything I said around to make it sound as if I confided in you?” ‘
“It all worked out quite well, didn’t it?” Weber crossed to the door. “How fortunate that I happened along when I did. I saw the two of you through the window. I crept around to the side and heard everything you said. It’s too late, Rachel,” he continued, still giving her that arrogant smirk. “I don’t think your precious doctor will believe anything more you have to say.”
“Thanks to you,” she seethed.
“Yes,” he replied with a smug smile. “Thanks to me.”
After he’d gone, Rachel tossed a wistful glance toward the alcove. She wanted to face Jason now, but she couldn’t. He certainly didn’t want to hear anything more from her. Somehow she’d have to convince him that she hadn’t run directly to Captain Weber and spilled the whole story, then changed her mind after Buck had been arrested. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d have to try.
Marshal Tully came back into the room, gave Rachel a weak smile, but said nothing.
She was stunned to see how easily her father-in-law pushed him around. “How can you let him do that to you?”
Tully gave her a long sigh. “Now, don’t go muddying up the waters, Rachel.”
“What do you mean, ‘muddying up the waters’?”
“I mean, don’t go gettin’ any fancy ideas about tryin’ to get Buck outa here.”
“But, Marshal, you don’t understand. Guilty or innocent, Buck won’t live to see Fort Riley. Captain Weber will see to that.”
“Well, now, I ain’t so sure he’s innocent anyways.” Tully sat b
ack in his chair and put his feet on the desk.
Rachel stared at him. “I just told everyone that Buck isn’t the one I saw that morning. I’m not lying, Marshal. It really wasn’t him. The face I’ve been trying to remember suddenly became clear in my head.” She saw the lack of interest on Tully’s face. “What’s happened to you?”
“I’m tired, Rachel. I’m damned tired. I don’t want no trouble, especially from the army. Leave it be, honey. Your pa-in-law will handle it proper.”
She wanted to scream at him; shake him. Somehow he’d changed since she’d first met him—or had he always been this weak and indecisive?
A noise drew her gaze to the alcove, and she remembered that Jason was still back there with Buck. She didn’t want to face Jason now. She needed some time. Undoubtedly he did, too.
Chapter Seventeen
Jason brooded in front of Buck’s cell. The picture of Rachel’s face, so filled with pleading, wouldn’t leave his mind. Although confused at what she’d done, he was still angry. Yesterday she’d seemed certain Buck was guilty, yet Jason had hoped she’d think about the consequences of accusing him. He knew full well that once the accusation was made, nothing would stop Weber from bringing Buck to justice—his brand of justice, anyway.
Today, Rachel had inexplicably changed her mind, but it was too late. The life of an Indian wasn’t important. Whether he was guilty or innocent wasn’t an issue; she hadn’t understood that. She didn’t realize that the slightest hint that Buck could be guilty would send the law down on him so fast, the truth would never be told. Now, Weber had his murderer, and unless Jason could think of a way to save him, Buck was a dead man.
Buck’s behavior was another problem. “Are you so anxious to die? Because if you are, you’ve done the right thing, you stupid bastard.”
Buck swung around and faced him. “I won’t beg for my life. Not in front of any White.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “You said she was certain I was guilty. Why did she suddenly change her mind?”
Jason raked his fingers through his hair, then massaged his neck. “Damned if I know. Maybe she really did remember the face of the real killer.” It’s what he desperately wanted to believe.
Heat of a Savage Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Two Page 26
