“So happy to meet y’all. I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long time.” He proceeded to shake hands with Blair, then kissed first Annie’s hand, then Lizza’s. That action set them to giggling. Then he turned to Rowena. “Just know I’m gonna love you as much as my sweet Tyra does. She claims you’re the same as a sister to her.” Again the hand kissing.
The man was so likeable that Rowena found herself filled with hope. He could surely get Blair free of the ridiculous charge of murder. She sat next to Blair, and Tyra dropped into the chair beside her.
For the next hour or so the chattering continued amidst consuming the delicious morsels Annie set before them. The men talked of hunting and riding and ranching and cross breeding the rangy longhorn and the sturdy English cattle. Rowena and Tyra caught up on all the events in their lives. While they chatted, Grady returned from the barn.
The moment Rowena had dreaded since James Lee walked in happened so fast she could do nothing to stop it.
The tall Texan turned to Blair and said, “Okay, tell me about this arrest warrant. I need to know everything, if I’m to help you.”
Blair stared at him, then at Rowena, then back at him once again. “I haven’t the vaguest notion what you are talking about.”
Rowena opened her mouth to try to explain, and Simmons appeared in the doorway. “Sheriff Calumet is at the door, sir. With two deputies. He wishes to speak with you.”
“No,” she cried. “Not yet. Not now.”
“What the hell is going on?” Blair said.
Before anyone could begin to explain, the sheriff pushed his way into the kitchen, followed by two large deputies. Every one of the three rested a hand over the butt of a sidearm.
The sheriff approached the wheelchair. “Blair Prescott?”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“Name’s Calumet, sheriff of Ellis County. You are under arrest for the murder of Barton Crouch, sir. Please stand and put your hands behind you.”
Blair stared at the man, an expression on his face like maybe he might explode out of that chair and take them all on.
Both Simmons and Rowena moved to either side of Blair. “He can’t stand,” she said. “His leg is broken,” Simmons added. “Why are you arresting him? He did not kill anyone.”
“I can damn well speak for myself.” Blair attempted to rise, but Simmons held him back. “Your leg, sir. Don’t—”
James Lee inserted himself between the chair and the lawman. “Sheriff, I’m Mr. Prescott’s attorney. Please show me your warrant.”
“I don’t need a goddamned warrant. I have information that Mr. Prescott shot Mr. Crouch in his study last week. Now move aside. And you,” he shouldered James Lee aside and shouted at Blair, “get up or these men will get you up.” He grabbed Blair’s arm to pull him out of the chair.
Grady pushed his way into the fray and elbowed Calumet in the chest. One of the large deputies pulled his gun and stuck it in Grady’s belly.
“You are under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law,” he said in a harsh voice.
“What?”
From there things really came apart. Rowena and Simmons tried to hold them back from touching Blair. Calumet smacked her so hard she slammed into the table and fell to the floor. Stars danced through a darkness that clouded her vision. Dizzy, she rolled over to try to rise. With a roar Blair exploded out of the chair and locked an arm around the throat of the sheriff, shaking him so hard his hat flew across the room. The two deputies pried him off. On one leg, he grabbed the arm of the largest one, pulled it out straight, and slammed the elbow on the back of the wheelchair. The cracking of bone sounded like a gunshot. The man screamed with pain and went down.
Rowena managed to stagger to her feet, her head reeling. She lunged toward Blair, suspended in mid-air by the uninjured deputy and the sheriff. Before either saw what she was doing, she grabbed the full teapot off the table and cracked Calumet over the head. He yowled as hot tea poured over his face. Coming down hard on his broken leg, Blair went to his knees with a loud cry.
A gunshot went off and everyone froze. Ears ringing, Rowena screamed, afraid they had shot Blair, but it was James Lee who held the gun, pointed over his head. The acrid stench of gunpowder filled the room, overpowered the good smells coming from the oven.
“Let’s stop this now. Kindly place Mr. Prescott back in the wheelchair and settle down. He will go with you, but in his own conveyance.”
“You’re damned right he will,” Calumet said and wiped his face with a bandana. “Good thing that wasn’t boiling. I’ll take her and them two, too,” he said pointing at Rowena, Simmons and Grady.
Simmons, who had not managed to protect his lordship but had been involved in the fray, helped the deputy lift a groaning Blair off the floor and into the chair. Rowena went to his side. His face blanched with pain, but he made no sound, just stared past everyone. He had gone somewhere else, and the expression on his face said it wasn’t a good place. She took his hand, and he gripped hers hard.
James Lee continued issuing orders as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Grady here will go fetch the carriage, and drive Mr. Prescott, Miss Rowena, and Simmons. Your injured deputy may ride with them if he’s a mind to.”
The deputy with the broken arm sat on his butt on the floor, rocking while he cradled his arm and moaned.
“You, by God, are not in charge around here.” Calumet raised on his toes to stare up into James Lee’s face. “Put that danged gun away or I’ll haul you in too.”
James Lee holstered the gun and, ignoring the red-faced sheriff, glanced at Rowena and nodded. “Tyra and I are going to Victoria, then we’ll come to Hays with the county judge. Y’all hang tight. It won’t be long.”
“Wait. Can he do this? Blair didn’t murder anyone. I was in the room, as were Simmons and Annie and Grady and…” She stopped short of mentioning Calder and Wilda.
“He can take you in because the three of you resisted arrest, and Grady for assaulting his deputy, but he can’t hold you on that, and what with the witnesses to the shooting, there won’t be a trial on the murder charges against Lord Prescott unless he has some hard evidence. With a judge there, after a formal hearing y’all will be released on bond. Now, cooperate and don’t do anything like trying to escape. You’ll just cause more charges to be filed. We’ll get this straightened out.”
With a lot of muttering, tears from Annie and Lizza, and Blair’s frightening silence, everyone headed out the door except Annie, Lizza, and Nellie who hovered just inside the sewing room, eyes wide with fear. Rowena pried her hand from Blair’s and hurried into the study to snatch up the morphine kit, then joined them at the carriage. For fear of losing the kit, for she had no place to put it, she gave it to Simmons, who slipped it into his trousers pocket.
She managed to slide into the back seat next to Blair, who made not a sound, his foot propped by Simmons onto the opposite seat. She took his limp hand once again and held it in her lap. Making not a sound, he gripped hers so tightly she thought her finger bones might crack. Grady and Simmons rode up front, and the injured deputy crawled awkwardly in on the other side of Blair.
James Lee and Tyra rode out ahead of Calumet and his deputy. At the main road, the two went toward Victoria, while the odd entourage of prisoners headed toward Hays. Everyone was unusually quiet except Blair, who uttered an occasional low groan when the carriage bounced. The sounds of the wheels squeaking in the snow, the chains of the singletree rattling, the steady thudding of horses’ hooves, broke the afternoon silence. Smells of leather and horse sweat and fear rode heavy alongside them. The nearer they came to Hays, the more frightened she became. If Blair would shout and lash out, she would have been happier. She had never seen him go so ominously quiet, and feared the worst. He’d had no morphine since the previous night and must be in a lot of pain. He might have re-broken the leg in the fight. She wanted to strangle that sheriff.
She would not let Blair’s hand go, no matter what
happened, even when they reached the jail at Hays. They would have to cut off her arm. To reassure him, she squeezed his fingers. No response except a blink of his eyes and a tighter hold on her. After a long, hard ride, the wild town of Hays loomed in the distance. The carriage wheels rolled through the mix of horse manure and melting snow that filled the street and fouled the air. At the jail, Grady and Simmons hopped down, but before they could help Blair, Calumet handcuffed Grady and shoved him toward another deputy. Then he shoved Simmons aside, crawled into the carriage, grabbed Blair and dragged him out into the dirty snow, where he landed flat on his stomach. His hand was jerked from her grip, but she bounced out and knelt beside him, raising his face out of the muck, ignoring her soiled dress.
“You bastard,” she screamed at Calumet, who paid her no mind but kicked Blair over onto his back and handcuffed him. What frightened her more than his treatment of Blair was the lack of reaction on Blair’s part. He was like a dead man.
Sheriff Calumet aimed a feral smile at her, then grabbed the handcuffs and dragged Blair along on his butt through the dirty slush and up the steps. She snatched at the evil man’s arm and kicked, landing a good one on his shin so that he yowled and did a little dance.
“If I had a gun I’d shoot out your brains, you evil bastard.”
“Edwards, get this she-cat off me,” he shouted, and the big deputy exploded from the jail where he’d taken Grady, hooked an arm around her waist, lifted her, and toted her inside like a bag of feed. She kicked and screamed and snapped her teeth trying to get a bite of flesh.
An indignant roar from the big man, and everything went black.
****
Blair battled his way through a red hot agony to squint his eyes open. He was lying in a heap in the corner of a small cell, the rock floor under him damp and so cold he shivered uncontrollably. The damaged leg sprawled out to one side and felt like it was on fire. His butt crammed up against the juncture of two walls, his body folded forward over handcuffed wrists so that his face lay next to the other leg. Any kind of struggle only increased the pain. He could not sit up, nor could he move the bad leg, so there he lay, staring at the dirty floor and wishing to hell he could die. What had happened to Rowena? He tried to scream for her, but nothing came out but a dry cawing sound.
The demons danced and sang and tormented him, appearing one after another to throw bitter taunts his way. Thrusting flaming daggers into his leg, they smeared blood over his body in a macabre ceremony. Dead children danced in and out of his consciousness. Roger moved through the melee, a reminder of his worst failure. Killing was one thing. Failing to save his friend quite another.
His mouth was so dry he could not swallow or ask for water, or call for Rowena. His eyes were filled with debris, so he could not see well enough to scan the cubicle where he lay. She might already be gone. The pain became all that existed, driving away all else, and he finally gave in to it and sank into an oblivion from which he prayed he would not return.
Rowena pulled the needle from Blair’s arm, unable to see him for the tears in her eyes. She sat on the floor holding his hand while Simmons straightened the bent body as best he could.
“He’s freezing. Make them bring some blankets. I’m going to kill that sheriff, I don’t care if they hang me for it.”
“I shall be pleased to help.” Simmons nodded, rose, and went to the bars enclosing the small cell. From there he shouted over and over till someone came, she couldn’t tell who. Blair shivered so hard his teeth chattered. She stretched out on the filthy floor, gathered him as close as she could, and tried to share some of her body warmth with him. Though she was cold, he felt like solid ice.
How could anyone do such a terrible thing to another human being? And worse, enjoy it? She tried crooning to him, but a white hot anger made it impossible to keep her voice low and soft, and she didn’t want to frighten him more. Just wait till James Lee arrived with the judge and they saw what had happened. But it could be morning before they showed up. Blair might die before then.
“Simmons, something has to be done now. He’s going to die if we don’t get him help.”
The door creaked open and someone tossed two ratty blankets onto the floor near where she lay. “Now maybe you’ll shut up your caterwauling.” The unknown voice came out of the shadows.
“When the judge gets here, you’ll all be out of a job,” she shouted in his direction. “This is no way to treat anyone. Even if Blair had murdered someone, this should not be allowed. What is wrong with you people? I want him in a bed, and I want it right now. If he dies, I’ll hunt you all down and hang you by your balls till you die.”
The deputy who had come to Fairhaven stuck his face against the bars. “Now, now, girlie. No sense in threatening the law. That won’t get you nowhere. They’s a fella here who wants to see your precious Blair-his-lordship-Prescott.”
“Who is it?” Perhaps James and Tyra and the judge had arrived after all.
“Colonel Ogden Crouch, the father of the man he killed, that’s who. Prob’ly wants to whack him one upside the head and maybe watch him suffer.”
“Is he the one responsible for this treatment?” She did her best to wrap both blankets around Blair. “He needs up off this cold floor. He’s going to die.”
Another voice spoke, and she glanced up to see a man holding a lantern. It cast an eerie glow over a bearded face with sunken eyes and a bald head. “Serve him right, seeing as how he killed my boy.” The words were curt, the voice firm.
“Your boy was trying to kill us, and his wife. Blair was in bed, helpless, when your son came in shouting and shooting off his gun. Yelling for his wife so he could kill her. Three people were in the room besides Blair, who did what any honorable man would do. He defended his home and those in it. And from his sickbed, too. That is not murder, and no one present will call it so.”
Her voice rose in fury, and Blair reached out a hand, his first movement since the sheriff had tossed her and Simmons into the cell with him. She took it. “Shh, darling. I’m here,” she whispered, a sob catching in her throat.
The colonel remained tightlipped and stern, body stiff and straight as an arrow, watching with those sunken eyes.
“So cold, so cold.” Blair’s voice chattered weakly.
She would not cry. Absolutely would not. She could not help him if she broke down and bawled like a helpless woman.
“Please,” she said. “You’re a soldier. So is Blair. He served with les Zouaves under Napoleon the Third. He is a hero. How can you see him treated like this? I thought soldiers were honorable men.”
“An elite fighting force, no doubt. Still, an honorable man protects his son.”
“Not when he is trying to kill other people. Not then. That is not honor, sir, that is blind stupidity.”
“He has to pay for what he did.”
“He is under arrest, yet he did nothing wrong. Make them give him a bed, and some water, and treatment for his injured leg. That is the least any ‘honorable man’ can do.”
Blair groaned and she leaned to kiss his dirt-smeared cheek. “I’m here. Shh.” She stared at the stony-faced man. “Come closer, look what you’ve done.”
A key scraped, and the door creaked open. He was actually going to come in. He lowered the lantern, revealing Blair’s battered face. He pulled back the blanket. Blair’s shirt had been torn off to reveal bloody scrapes and cuts, the pants were ripped, his skin battered, and the splint trailed off in dirty strips from the purple, swollen leg.
“My God.” The colonel stumbled backward out the cell door. He and the lantern disappeared, leaving the three of them in total darkness.
Rowena replaced the blankets around Blair, then stretched out beside him again, wrapped her arms around him.
“I love you,” she whispered kissing his cheek. Impossible to tell him he was safe. He would know that to be a lie. Her silent tears wet his matted hair. Even when the nuns were lashing her, she had not felt so helpless.
He b
egan to groan with each breath.
“Simmons, we have to do something.”
“No more morphine. We could kill him.”
“But what’s wrong? Listen to him.”
The steady march of feet approached. Two men in uniform entered the cell, carrying a stretcher. The colonel stood outside with Calumet, who spouted angry words.
Crouch interrupted him. “I do not care, sir. This man needs a hospital. During the war we did not treat our Confederate prisoners with such cruelty. We are human beings, sir. Now you stand aside, or I will put you aside. The young lady requested a bed and I’m giving him one, and I don’t give a damn, sir, whether you like it or not.”
Calumet gave it one more try. “This man murdered your son.”
“This man is a human being, as am I. Now, for the last time, move aside and let my men take him out. He’ll be at the Fort Hays hospital, where he’ll get decent care until he is tried for my son’s murder. I can do no less for a fellow soldier.”
Calumet yanked off his hat, slammed it to the floor, and stomped away. Without hesitation, Rowena went along with the stretcher carrying Blair, who gripped her hand so tightly she had no choice. And no one tried to stop her. Simmons followed. Grady sat in the cell opposite theirs, and she spoke to him in an undertone.
“Please tell James Lee where we are and what happened.”
“Yes, I will. Don’t you worry, I’ll do that.”
An ambulance pulled by two large bay horses waited outside. The soldiers loaded Blair and helped Rowena step up and inside. Simmons rode up front with the driver. One of the soldiers climbed inside, the other closed the back doors.
A stool sat next to the stretcher, and she settled there beside Blair, who clung to her hand.
“Sorry about this.” The young soldier lowered himself to a bench and eyed Blair. “He’s sort of got a good hold on you, don’t he?”
She nodded, unable to speak, her throat burned so with unshed tears. She could only silently pray that he didn’t die after such dreadful treatment. He lay so still, face white, taut with pain. And his leg, his poor leg. She held his hand to her lips for a kiss, then placed it between her breasts.
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