Fugitive hearts, p.23
Fugitive Hearts, page 23
He had no choice. If he wanted to save Claire, he had to betray her trust. After that, he would never be able to convince her to marry him, much less love him.
The low feelings he’d experienced earlier were nothing compared to what he felt now.
He fished for the key in his vest pocket. Good thing he still had half a bottle of whiskey left in the drawer.
“I fear you have a weakness.”
The memory of Claire’s concerned remark stopped him. She was right. If he gave up and gave in, it proved he was weak.
Billy’s hopeful expression cinched it.
If this boy could rally the courage to face his demons, so could he. He had to stop reaching for the bottle. Figure out how to help Billy. Find a way to win Claire’s heart and be deserving of her love. It might take the rest of his life, but he could think no worthier cause.
Frank tucked away the key, came off the desk and rested his hand on Billy’s shoulder. He’d take the boy upstairs, keep watch over him while he got a few hours of sleep and then take him to Mr. Moore. The lawyer would know how to handle it from there.
“Let’s not bother her tonight. She’s probably asleep. Looks like you could use some food and rest. You can see her in the morning.”
Chapter 27
From a corner table in the back of the Rail Yard Saloon, Jasper could keep an eye on who came in and who went out. He could also hear the excited chatter at the bar.
Settlers and railroaders made bets on whether the Black Widow, currently locked up in the jail, would be charged with murder. If so, whether she’d be sent to prison or hanged. And they called outlaws bloodthirsty.
Jasper turned his glass to examine the amber liquid. His Pa had made better whiskey. He hadn’t been patient enough to learn the painstaking process. He hadn’t been willing to learn much of anything the old man had tried to teach him because he’d been stiff-necked and stupid.
It was too late for him to change. But he could see to it that Billy didn’t make the same mistakes.
Jasper tossed back the whiskey. Once his contact showed up, they could get down to business.
It was risky, to be sure. Mr. Smith had warned him not to come to town. But he’d place his own bet that Smith would willing to cooperate with a ruthless man who could bring him down. If the plan worked, he’d collect that reward and get Billy back home, where he belonged.
One of the serving girls, a pert blonde with lily-white skin and a low-cut dress, sashayed by the table. Her nervous glances weren’t surprising. Most women had a similar reaction.
He’d been told he had a mean look that scared the gentler sex. His gravelly voice—the result of damage to his vocal chords—heightened the impression that he could be a monster. Ironically, those same qualities earned him respect from men. The reputation suited him because he liked to keep his distance. But he couldn’t get the information he sought if he sat here alone and kept his mouth shut.
Jasper lifted his empty glass and put on a pleasant expression.
The large-breasted serving girl approached with a wary expression. His sun-darkened skin might’ve put her off. Despite his white blood, he looked more Indian than Irish.
“You need another drink, mister?” she asked.
“I’d rather have your company.” He could be honest about some things.
She tipped up her nose. “We’re decent girls here.”
Jasper swallowed a dry laugh. He hadn’t known a saloon girl yet who wouldn’t be indecent if the price was right. “I just want to talk.”
She scooped up his glass. “Let me get you a fresh drink.”
He put a three-dollar gold piece on the table. “Sit for a minute. Then you can go get the drink and keep the change.”
Her eyes widened with interest. She took the chair across from him. Slid the gold coin off the table and tucked it into her bodice, where it would be warmed by those magnificent breasts.
Jasper’s gaze lingered on her tantalizing cleavage before he reluctantly shifted his attention to her face. She was passably pretty, but who cared. With that body, no one would be looking at her face. Later, he’d pull out another gold piece to see if she might relax her high standards. Right now, he’d buy information. “Tell me about this shooting everybody’s talking about.”
“You ain’t from around here, if you don’t know.”
“No. Passing through.” Many travelers passed through the railroad town, so it wouldn’t be unusual for a stranger to show up in a saloon not far from the depot.
Jasper rubbed the bristle on his face. The extra facial gaur was precaution. That decade-old picture on the Wanted poster looked nothing like him. He hadn’t made the mistake of being photographed since.
A man at the next table shifted his chair sideways. His companion’s conversation must’ve gotten boring.
The blond tart leaned her tits on the table, which made Jasper happy. “The lady who ran the hotel next door shot her husband. Announced it here, in front of everybody, including the sheriff.”
The hotel next door, which was the Belmont House, where Billy said he lived. The lady in jail, the Black Widow, had to be his guardian.
Why would she claim she’d shot her husband if Billy had pulled the trigger? The boy might’ve lied to use the shooting as bragging rights. Or, he’d fired the first shot and she finished the job. If that were the case, why hadn’t anyone mentioned him?
Jasper shifted forward in his chair to get a better view. “What about the boy?”
“Boy?”
“I heard somebody say earlier there was a boy living there.”
“Oh, you mean that orphan they took in. He ran off.”
The gal’s dismissive tone grated on Jasper. Billy might’ve been a stray dog, given her lack of concern. “Somebody wants him. There’s a reward. Four hundred dollars.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.” Her faded blue eyes brightened with greed. “Hey, maybe she killed him too, and buried his body behind the hotel. They might give me that four hundred dollars if I dig it up.”
“That’s foolishness, Essie. She’d never hurt Billy.” The remark came from a man at the next table who’d been eavesdropping. His bibbed denims and soot-stained skin identified him as one of the men who fed coal to the big steam engines. He might know more than the serving girl.
“What do you think?” Jasper asked him. “Did she kill her husband?”
The sturdy fireman turned his chair around to join their conversation. “Mrs. Daines is a nice, decent lady. She said the shooting was an accident. I believe her.”
Jasper wasn’t convinced. Decent was an overused word where women were concerned. “Why is she in jail if it was an accident?”
“They aren’t sure it was,” Essie offered informatively. “There’s some who say she meant to kill him because he sold their hotel.”
The man shook his finger in the girl’s face. “That’s just gossip, gal, and you know it.”
Her rouged lips thinned with irritation. “Is not. That’s what Mr. Bond says. They quoted him in the newspaper.”
Jasper’s ears pricked up. He knew that name. “Bond? Isn’t he the Katy’s general manager?”
“That’s right.”
“He’ll testify tomorrow at the hearing,” Essie added. “That’s what the newspaper said.”
The railroad man huffed at her. “How do you know what the newspaper says? You can’t read.”
“Can too!”
Jasper ignored their bickering. He’d found out what he wanted to know. Billy’s name hadn’t come up in connection with the shooting, but someone else’s had. The railroad boss had gotten involved in the dispute, which might explain why he wasn’t here. Or maybe, he was too nervous to show up. Didn’t matter. He could be shaken out of his tree later.
“You want to make a bet on the outcome, mister? Or put your money on something else?” Essie slid her arms across the table, displaying her ample gifts.
Jasper experienced a twinge of lust. Just as he’d surmised, the lure of more money was too tempting, even for a decent girl. He doubted he’d get any more useful information out of her, but he wouldn’t mind a sample of what she offered.
He tucked the next coin in between warm, soft flesh and gave her a smile. “I’ll put my money on a sure thing.”
He planned to hang around tonight anyway. Find out what Bond had to say at that hearing, and, just as important, whether Billy’s guardian got charged with murder. If so, the boy would need another home.
Jasper had held onto his last card. He would play only if it were absolutely necessary. His sister didn’t need another burden. However, under the circumstances, she might be willing to take on the boy. Billy could be helpful. He was a hard worker.
On a happier note, if Billy’s guardian was cleared and released, Jasper saw no reason why he couldn’t corral the wayward orphan and gain the general manager’s assistance in collecting a handsome reward.
Chapter 28
Nothing drew a crowd faster than the possibility of a hanging.
The following morning, the entire town turned out to gawk when Claire left the jail on her way to the hearing. Or so it seemed. She’d never seen so many people on the sidewalk or in the street.
Frank circled his arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the curious onlookers. He was supposed to guard her as his prisoner. Instead, he upheld his vow to protect her, like it or not.
Curious onlookers crowded the entrance to a stone and brick building that housed city offices and a courtroom. Generally, cases here involved land disputes, sometimes thefts. Not too many killings, thanks to their vigilant sheriff.
“There she is! The Black Widow,” someone in the crowd called out.
Claire shuddered at the moniker comparing her to a poisonous spider. The newspapers had already pronounced her a cold-blooded killer.
Frank’s expression remained closed. Though he could hide his feelings better than most, she’d been married to a man whose dark moods could strike faster than a storm on the Kansas prairie. For her own survival, she’d learned how to translate the physical signs. Her escort’s tight jaw and flared nostrils indicated anger. He would strike at anyone who tried to hurt her.
Even if a judge or jury believed her story, doubts would linger. Frank’s strong sense of justice would compel him to defend her. He had enough problems as a lawman without being hobbled by her tainted reputation, which would follow her to the grave, regardless of the verdict. She couldn’t imagine how she would get along without him, but she wouldn’t shackle him to her.
“Move back.” With the sharp order and a sweep of his hand, Frank parted the sea of onlookers gathered at the steps leading up to the courthouse.
Claire stared straight ahead on what seemed a long climb.
He closed the doors on the crowd behind them.
Inside the courtroom, every seats was occupied. More people had crowded in to stand along the back wall. The bustling anticipation, overheated air, and the odor of stale perspiration, added to the circus atmosphere.
Claire longed to bury her face into Frank’s shoulder. Instead, she straightened her spine and kept walking toward a table near the front. Loud whispers started as she passed by. The Bonds were seated in the second row. Gertrude had dressed for the occasion in dove-gray silk with a matching plumed hat. The odious woman smirked. Her husband stared straight ahead, stone-faced.
Frank handed her off to her attorney. He continued on, up to the judge’s bench. She couldn’t hear their words, but the judge’s face didn’t convey an exchange of pleasantries.
“Mrs. Daines?” Mr. Moore pulled out her chair and offered a kind smile. “You’re well-rested, I hope.”
“Yes, thank you.” She practiced lying to see whether she could be believable. She hadn’t been able to sleep or eat. Her stomach had shrunk to the size of a peach pit and was presently lodged in her throat.
After arranging her black bombazine skirt, she lifted the dark veil over her bonnet so the air would cool her face. Shortly, she’d put it back. If she had to go up there and talk in front of this crowd, she would need the barrier, and it would make her look more like a grieving widow. Although her grieving had commenced years before her husband’s death.
Without her chatelaine to keep her hands occupied, she plucked at the lace on her sleeve. Frank had told her he wouldn’t stand by and let her take the blame. He might be sharing his suspicions about Billy with the judge.
He had no proof. She would stand by her version of the facts.
Mr. Moore studied her with a concerned frown. “You don’t look well.”
Her previous lie hadn’t worked on him. She would try again.
“I am not rested.” That much was apparent. She had dark circles under her eyes and fatigue and stress were etched on her face. She almost wished Frank hadn’t provided her with a mirror. “I am as well as I can be, under the circumstances.”
Her lawyer took the seat next to her with his cane propped against the table. “So you know, this is just a hearing. Fairly routine. The judge has read over the statements. He will ask a few questions before he issues a decision.”
Claire adjusted her shawl. The air had gotten cooler. Or the chill might be due to her blood turning cold. “If he believes the shooting was an accident?”
“I imagine he’ll release you. Accidents aren’t crimes.”
She fiddled with the black lace at her wrists, keeping her eyes on the judge and sheriff who were still in deep conversation. “What if he doesn’t believe me?”
“I’ll argue for a lesser charge than murder.”
Thank heavens for Mr. Moore. His steadiness had a calming effect on her nerves.
When the judge called for order, the hearing quickly got underway.
Mr. Moore stood first, then helped her to her feet. The buzz of conversation quieted while he escorted her forward. She moved on shaky legs. He slipped his hand beneath her elbow. How did he think he could catch her if she went down? He needed a cane for balance. She murmured her thanks and removed her arm, so as not to burden him.
For some reason, Frank remained next to the judge’s bench, almost as if he waited for her. Could he do that? He might expect her to collapse and worried about who would catch her.
She wouldn’t fold up. She could do this. For Billy’s sake.
The judge’s stern demeanor remained unchanged as she approached the bench. Deep grooves creased his forehead and bracketed his mouth. A layer of dust coated his dark suit. The circuit judge had ridden in this morning. He didn’t look to be in a good mood. Perhaps no one had offered him breakfast.
She held her hands together to keep them from shaking. “Good morning, sir.”
“If you say so, madam. It will be a better morning if we can clear this up quickly. Can you tell me why you’re here?”
He had to know the purpose of the hearing. Perhaps this question was put to her to ascertain whether she was clear on the facts. “For…for shooting my husband.”
The crease between the judge’s bushy eyebrows deepened with displeasure. “The sheriff tells me you didn’t fire the gun.”
Frank met her gaze without flinching. He’d warned her. She’d expected he would try something like this.
“I-I think the sheriff means I didn’t intend to fire the gun.”
The sheriff’s expression remained set in hard, determined lines. “I meant what I said. You didn’t fire the weapon that killed your husband.”
She put her hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t let him intimidate her. “I told you that night, I had the gun in my hands when it went off.”
“That night you were so addled you couldn’t remember where you left the weapon. You still don’t know where the gun is or who might have it.”
The judge leaned back with his fingers laced over his chest, appearing content to let Frank shoot holes through her story.
A tingling sensation started at the base of her neck. It spread to her scalp, over her shoulders and down her arms. A sign that panic was about to set in. She cast an anxious glance at her lawyer. He’d confirm what she had told him.
Mr. Moore didn’t open his mouth. He only looked at her, somewhat sadly.
The truth sent her reeling. Mr. Moore was in cahoots with Frank. They had cooked up some scheme to discredit her. She would fire the lawyer later, after she dealt with the sheriff. “You weren’t there, Mr. Garrity. You have no idea what happened.”
“I do.”
The childish voice from the back of the courtroom sent tremors through her.
She whirled around.
Billy stood just inside the door. The deputy accompanied him.
Relief nearly buckled her knees. Thank God, he was safe. Then anger set it. Frank had sent his deputy out after her son, as if he were a criminal.
Billy twisted his hat in his hands with an apology on his face. His clothes were dirty, but he’d combed his hair and taken time to wash up. As if he’d known he had to look nice for his appearance in court.
She jerked an accusing glare at Frank, then Mr. Moore. The despicable deceivers looked away. They’d plunged daggers in her back. Or through her heart. Which would explain this knifing pain in her chest. They would not get away with this. She would not let them.
“No!” she shouted.
The sheriff blocked her way to Billy. His stern expression made it clear he would not let her pass. “Stay put. Let him come forward.”
“How could you?” Tears she couldn’t hold back sprang into her eyes. He’d known about Billy’s return and had held back from telling her in order to set her up as a liar. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way.
She wanted to strike him. Instead, she begged. “Please, don’t make him do this. He’s just a child. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“He’s not being forced, Claire. He showed up on his own because he cares about you.”
Mr. Moore appeared at her other side. “His conscience compelled him. He’s a brave lad.”
She didn’t want him to be brave. She wanted him to be safe.
“What’s your name, boy?” the judge called out.
