Judith E French

by Morgan's Woman

  “Ready for bed?” he asked her as he kicked dirt over the coals.

  “Ready for sleep. I think I could—”

  Without warning, Ash’s hand closed around her arm. “Good. Then you won’t mind if I take a few simple precautions to make sure you don’t do to me what you’ve done before.”

  “What? Let go of me!” she protested as Ash brought her wrists together at her waist and tied them tightly with a length of rawhide.

  “No! You can’t!” Fury boiled up inside her, and she kicked at his shins. “I won’t let you!”

  Dancer stamped his feet and snorted in alarm. Another of the animals whinnied nervously.

  “Darlin’, this hurts me worse than it hurts you,” Ash said.

  “You don’t trust me.” Trembling with anger, she sucked in ragged gulps of breath.

  He laughed. “Should I?” With one motion, he knocked her legs out from under her, caught her before she hit the ground, and pinned her feet.

  “No! No! You can’t do this to me!”

  Ash wrapped another cord around her ankles. “I just want to make certain you’re here to eat the breakfast I’m going to cook for you in the morning.”

  “Damn you! You tricked me!” Tears of anger ran down her cheeks. “You made love to me while all the time you—”

  A ferocious roar ripped through Tamsin’s protest. From the corner of her eye, she saw a green-eyed shadow lunge out of the trees. “Cougar!” she screamed at Ash. “Cougar!”

  Chapter 19

  Ash leapt for his gun. Tamsin couldn’t see him, but she knew that’s what he was doing. He wouldn’t leave her. Unarmed, he stood no chance against the slashing claws and teeth of an enraged cougar. Bound and helpless, she couldn’t fight back. She couldn’t even run.

  If he didn’t get to his weapon, they were finished.

  Strangely, in the split second it took to recognize the mountain lion’s roar and realize that the cat was attacking them, Tamsin’s fear burned away, leaving her with the taste of Ash’s mouth and his clean scent imprinted on her mind. Ash, she thought. Oh, Ash, I do love you.

  Cool certainty and the knowledge that she was about to die settled over her with the calm of an evening mist. It seemed to her that the horses’ terrified whinnies and the puma’s scream faded until all she could hear was the rustle of wind through the trees and the gurgle of the spring.

  The puma snarled again, so close that Tamsin was sure she could feel the beast’s hot, fetid breath. Then two gunshots blasted.

  “Ash!” The sound of racing blood hammered in her ears.

  “It’s all right.” Ash’s face loomed over her. “It’s dead.”

  Blackness threatened to smother her. A faint buzzing started in her head and grew louder and louder.

  “Tamsin? Tamsin? Speak to me, damn it!” Ash seized her shoulders and shook her. “You don’t have to be afraid. The cat’s dead.”

  She heard the hiss of his knife slide out of his sheath; then the leather ties binding her fell away. Ash gathered her in his arms and rocked her, whispering her name over and over.

  Gradually, the humming receded. “Ash?” she murmured. A sweet sickly smell seemed to surround her. She knew what it was. Blood.

  “It’s a female,” Ash said. “Big. She must go two hundred and twenty pounds.”

  “A real cat? Flesh and bone? Not a ghost?”

  “As real as I am. The one I killed before must have been her offspring. Pumas don’t hunt with another animal unless it’s a mother and her young.”

  “It’s dead? Really?”

  “Yes,” he answered softly. “It’s over. I’m sorry, Tamsin. So damned sorry.”

  “You should be.” She pushed free and cautiously approached the dead animal. “How could anything so magnificent be so terrible? Did she hate us … like the Cheyenne? Did she track us all this while out of—”

  “Not hate, darlin’.” He pulled her away from the cat. “She turned outlaw, a man killer.”

  “Like Jack Cannon.”

  Ash nodded. “Maybe, but that’s not a wild animal’s nature. Men prey on others for money, but a mountain lion’s needs are simpler. All a cat wants is to be left alone, to hunt, to mate, to raise their cubs in peace. Usually, a puma keeps as far from a human as possible. Something went wrong inside this one, something that twisted her.”

  “Grief for her offspring?” Tamsin suggested.

  He shrugged. “It’s not something we’ll ever know.”

  “But to trail us so far … I don’t understand.”

  “Not so much distance the way a lion hunts. This one’s hunting territory could easily cover a hundred miles.”

  “She wasn’t so different from the Cheyenne, was she? So long as we stayed away and left her alone.”

  “Maybe, maybe it’s the way things happen. Nothing stays the same, Tamsin. Not Tennessee, not Texas, and not Colorado. One of these days the wild Cheyenne and the mountain lions will be gone. It will make life easier for some folks, but something special will go out of these mountains with them.”

  “And the desperadoes? Will they be gone as well?”

  “No,” he replied huskily. “They’ll just change their hats and wear fancier clothes. Believe me, Tamsin, as long as there are people, the outlaws will be with us.”

  At dawn, they rode southeast, entering more-civilized country. Tamsin was torn, waiting for a chance to escape, but not wanting to leave the man she’d come to cherish more than her own life.

  The canyon widened, and Tamsin guided Fancy close to Ash’s gelding. Ash had rolled up his hunting shirt and tied it behind his saddle.

  He’d told her he didn’t want to be mistaken for a hostile and shot by one of his own kind. With his long, dark hair and sun-bronzed skin, she wondered that anyone would recognize him as a white man.

  The buckskins he’d found in Jacob’s cabin suited him as well as his long coat and neatly tailored vest and trousers, she decided. Ash Morgan had an unpredictable streak that marked him as a mustang. It could be that no woman would ever bridle his temper or train him to a tame way of life.

  “We don’t have to do it this way,” she said to him. “You could forget the bounty on my head and come to California with me.”

  Ash didn’t answer for several minutes, then stroked his stubbled chin. “It’s a fair offer, Tamsin. I’ve never been that far west, and I’ve always had a hankering to see the sun set over that rolling blue ocean.”

  Her heart pitched into the pit of her stomach. “But you won’t, will you?” Stubborn. He was as stubborn as a Missouri mule. “Does the reward mean that much to you?”

  He scoffed. “You know better than that, woman. Don’t be scared. I promised you a top-notch lawyer. I’ve known Henry Steele for some time. I believe he’s an honest man, but in case he’s not, I’ll make certain you don’t come to trial in his courtroom.”

  “I’m sure that’s supposed to make me feel better,” she replied. But it didn’t. She was terrified of being arrested and dreaded the disgrace of being behind bars. No one in her family had ever been jailed, other than a great-great-grandmother who was suspected of spying on the British for the Americans during the War of 1812.

  What if Ash’s lawyer wouldn’t represent her or wasn’t as good as Ash thought? Suppose the jury believed Henry Steele’s word over hers?

  She was a stranger accused of horse theft and murder, a southerner in Union territory when emotions still ran high from the war. What if Ash was forced to testify against her? If he told them that she had stolen his horse, would that make them think her guilty of the killing?

  Tamsin shivered. It was all well and good for Ash to talk about obeying the law and upholding a moral code of right and wrong. He wasn’t the one facing a death sentence.

  “You know I didn’t commit that murder,” she said.

  “Yes, woman. I suppose I do. I can’t figure how the hell you managed to get yourself knee-deep in this much trouble without being guilty as sin, but I believe you.”r />
  “It’s about time!” She gave a sigh of relief. “Then, if you do believe me, you can understand why I can’t go back. Come to California with me.”

  Ash reined in and stared at her. “Don’t be stupid, Tamsin. I’m not going—”

  “I’m not stupid. Don’t ever call me that again.” Atwood had called her stupid, and it had ended any hope of their making their marriage work.

  She knew Ash thought she should trust him. In his eyes, he’d never done anything to make her think that he wouldn’t keep his word. But she was afraid that he was asking more than she could give.

  “I promised you I’d take care of you,” he said, reining his horse close to hers. “Stop worrying, and let me do it.”

  She sighed again. If only it were that easy.

  Four days later, on a side street near the Denver courthouse, Ash escorted Tamsin into a freshly painted office. The small gold building with white trim was so new that carpenters were still nailing cedar shingles to the roof. “This is the lawyer I told you about,” Ash explained. “Dimitri’s the best.”

  An elegantly dressed, middle-aged man with prematurely gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses peered over the top of a desk stacked high with books. “Ashton? Is that you?” He rose, replaced a quill pen in an inkwell, and came around the desk to meet them.

  “Dimitri.” Ash extended a hand and the little man shook it vigorously. “I’d like you to meet someone,” Ash continued. “Dimitri Zajicek, this is Mrs. Tamsin MacGreggor.”

  Dimitri nodded, pulled an embroidered handkerchief from his coat pocket, and wiped at the smeared ink stains on his fingers. “It is my honor, Mrs. MacGreggor. Forgive the mess; it’s usually far worse, but I’ve just moved into this office and I haven’t had time to complete my customary clutter.” The lawyer rattled on as he escorted her to a chair, cleared a small tea table of heaped papers and folders, and produced a steaming silver pot and delicate cups and saucers.

  Dimitri Zajicek was a far cry from her Tennessee lawyer, but his manner inspired confidence, Tamsin thought as she sipped the sweetened tea. She hadn’t known Dimitri for more than five minutes, and here she was explaining her dilemma without the least hesitation.

  Ash stood behind her, his hand on the back of her chair. She could feel his gaze on her, and even though he didn’t speak, his being there gave her confidence. “So, you can see that I was afraid to go into the Sweetwater jail,” she said. “I’m certain that the sheriff and Judge Steele are both dishonest. And I truly believe that the judge murdered his brother and plans to put the blame on me.”

  “I can’t believe that Henry Steele is that kind of man. But right or wrong, I couldn’t take the chance of her being tried in Sweetwater, Dimitri,” Ash said. “Can you help us?”

  “There was a cowboy, too,” Tamsin put in. “I think they called him Broom or Brown. He was there at Steele’s ranch the day I heard Sam and Henry argue. Sam became furious with the man when he wouldn’t throw Henry off the place. They exchanged words, and Sam fired him. The cowboy threatened Sam. He could have returned later and done the killing.”

  Ash’s face darkened with suspicion. “You never mentioned this cowhand before.”

  “It didn’t seem important. It all happened so fast that I just remembered what Broom said to Sam. I was so sure that the judge was the killer …”

  “That you didn’t tell me.” Ash’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the chair back.

  “That’s certainly something to look into,” Dimitri soothed as he continued taking notes. Then he paused and glanced up at Ash. “You did hear that Jack Cannon committed another bank robbery south of Pueblo?”

  Tamsin’s hand trembled, spilling amber liquid over the side of her flowery blue porcelain cup into her lap.

  “No.” Ash’s features hardened. “I hadn’t.”

  “In Goldsborough. It’s a small town, but developing into a mining center. A deputy was killed during the robbery as well as the bank manager and a teller. The Cannon brothers are also suspected of that stage robbery in Pueblo, and at least two bank holdups in Nebraska.”

  Ash swore softly. “I heard Jack was on the move. A friend told me Cannon murdered a mule skinner and stole his horses. I rode down to Cannon’s uncle’s old place to see if they’d gone to ground, but I didn’t find any sign of them.”

  “No.” Tamsin set the cup and saucer on the table. “Stay out of this, Ash. You promised you’d stand by me if I gave myself up.”

  A muscle twitched along the length of his left forearm. “I made another promise to Becky that I’d make sure Cannon paid for his crimes.”

  Tamsin seized his arm. “She’s dead, Ash. She’s dead, and I’m alive. Has it all been lies between us? Don’t I mean anything to you?”

  “You mean everything, woman. But I’ve got to finish what I started.”

  “They took a hostage,” Dimitri continued. “A woman customer. The countryside is up in arms, but they haven’t found any trace of them. I hear they’re calling in federal marshals.”

  “They won’t catch him. Cannon knows these mountains like the back of his hand.”

  “I can look after Mrs. MacGreggor if you want to join the search. I’ll be happy to post her bond.”

  “Ash, no.” Tamsin’s voice took on a shrill note as she clung to him. “You can’t do this to me.”

  “It would mean a lot if you’d look after her, Dimitri. I’ll guarantee your bond.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Tamsin said angrily. “Take your bounty money and go. After all, you are the great Ash Morgan. The marshals, the posse, they’re wasting their time. You’re the only one who can capture these outlaws and save the hostage!”

  Ash flushed under his tan. “I know Cannon better than anyone else. I know his habits and his tricks. I won’t let him lead me into an ambush.”

  Dimitri laid down his pen. “Of course, Helen and I will welcome Mrs. MacGreggor into our home,” he continued smoothly, as though he hadn’t heard what she’d said, as though Ash’s running off alone after Jack was the most natural thing in the world.

  “That’s settled, then.” The lawyer got to his feet. “Helen and I have had other accused ladies stay with us before, and I’m sure Judge Marlborough will agree. There’s really no provision for women in the jail, and no reason for Mrs. MacGreggor to remain behind bars if she’d give me her word not to try and escape.” He glanced at Tamsin.

  “Why not? No one’s going to listen to anything I have to say.” Suddenly tired, she sank into the chair.

  “Tamsin.” Ash put a hand on her shoulder. “I have to do this. I’ll be back before you go to trial.”

  She raised her head and stared at him through tear-misted eyes. “Will you at least form your own posse, take armed men with you?”

  “I work better alone. Besides, I was wrong before when I thought he’d gone to his uncle’s cabin. I might be pulling good guns off on another wild-goose chase.”

  “And what if Jack kills you? What then?”

  He shrugged. “Honey, I’ve got to—”

  “I don’t want to hear it!” She rose to her feet and backed away from him. “If you’re going, then go—straight to hell, you bastard!”

  “Maybe I will,” Ash said softly before turning to stride out of the lawyer’s office, leaving her numb and heartsick, already regretting the bitter words she’d flung at him.

  Ash’s determination lasted as far as McNarr’s dry goods store, where he bought ammunition, a new rifle, and food to last him a week. It stayed with him as he made arrangements to sell the mule and leave Tamsin’s horses at the livery stable. It even held firm as he thrust a foot into the stirrup and swung up on Shiloh’s back.

  As he reined the gelding in a tight circle, Fancy raised her head and uttered a plaintive whinny. Instantly Tamsin’s image formed in his mind, and Ash’s steely resolve cracked.

  He swore a foul oath. “I can’t do it,” he muttered. “I can’t abandon her.”

  Dismounting, he handed S
hiloh’s lines to a stableman. “Put him with the others,” Ash ordered gruffly. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be staying in Denver.”

  “How long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  Swallowing his pride, he started back for Dimitri’s office and what he guessed would be a whole lot of apologizing.

  It was late afternoon by the time Dimitri, his wife Helen, and a well-chastised Ash accompanied Tamsin across the creaky floorboards into Judge Marlborough’s chambers. In Dimitri’s home, she’d bathed, washed, arranged her hair, and dressed from the skin out in Mrs. Zajicek’s fashionable clothing.

  Jolly Helen Zajicek was three inches shorter than Tamsin and a good two stone heavier, but the good wife’s whalebone-and-elastic corset crushed, pinched, and squeezed every inch of Tamsin’s flesh from hip to collarbone. Side-button cloth boots, a size too small, cramped her toes. And the flannel-covered steel-cage crinoline, two petticoats, and dove-gray, shot-silk taffeta gown with its lined bodice and tightly cuffed three-quarter sleeves smothered her.

  The day was stifling hot without a hint of a breeze, but Mrs. Zajicek wore gloves, hat, and cape, and had insisted that Tamsin top her outfit in the same manner. “A lady cannot be too careful not to allow her standards to slip on the frontier,” she’d said with twinkling eyes and a merry laugh.

  Tamsin felt that the widow’s hair brooch at her collar was too much, but Mrs. Zajicek would not be swayed.

  “You’re going before Judge Marlborough. He is extremely conservative. Under the circumstances, you must make the best possible impression.”

  The judge’s secretary, a dour young gentleman in a wool pin-striped suit, showed the four of them into the inner chambers, opened a heavily draped window, and let himself out through a side door.

  Tamsin sat gingerly on the edge of a chair, relieving the ache in her pinched toes, and tried to compose herself. Dimitri seemed certain that the judge would allow her to remain as their houseguest and that the trial could be moved here to Denver. She hoped the lawyer was right. But greater than her apprehension of what would happen was the fear that Ash might change his mind again and go off chasing the outlaw Cannon.