“Cutter! We know you’re in there. Open up.”
J.T. swore under his breath as he recognized the voice of Marshal Aaron Dinsmore.
Brandy stood up and went to the window. A narrow balcony spanned this side of the second floor. She opened the window and peered outside. The street below was empty.
“Go, J.T.,” she said urgently. “Hurry!”
“Dammit, I wanted more time.”
“I know.”
“Open up, Cutter!”
“Hurry,” Brandy said.
J.T. grabbed her, kissing her hard, tasting her tears. “I love you, Brandy.”
“I know. I love you, too. Go with God, J.T..”
He nodded, then stepped out the window and vaulted to the street. Behind him, he heard a loud crash as someone broke down the door. He risked a quick glance behind him, and then he was running.
He heard Brandy scream, felt a sudden burning pain slam into his left leg. The sound of the gunshot echoed in the stillness of the morning as he sprawled facedown in the dirt.
When he looked up, he found himself staring into the dark maw of a double-barreled shotgun.
“It’s over, son,” the lawman said. “Welcome home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ignoring the ache in his leg, J.T. paced the confines of his cell. It was late afternoon, April 9th. Tomorrow, they were going to hang him. Again.
The thought made his mouth go dry and brought a fine sheen of sweat to his brow. Not again, he thought bleakly. Please, not again.
At least Brandy was safe. He had seen her that morning. He would see her again tonight. Nora had come by earlier in the day and promised to take care of Brandy and the baby. Don’t worry about anything J.T., Nora had said, squeezing his hand. I’ll make sure they don’t want for anything.
J.T. stopped pacing. Resting his head against the cold stone wall, he closed his eyes. He could trust Nora. She’d keep her word. Brandy couldn’t be in better hands.
In the distance, a clock chimed the hour, reminding him that he was sixty minutes closer to the end.
Pushing away from the wall, he began to pace again, grimacing as pain shot through his leg. And still he paced, grateful that he was still alive to feel the pain.
She came at six, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Motherhood agreed with her, he thought. She forced a smile as she walked toward him, but he saw the sadness in the depths of her eyes.
“You’re lovely, Brandy,” he murmured, taking her hands in his.
So lovely. She wore a dress of soft gray wool that was the same color as her eyes. Her hair had been pinned up on the sides, but left to fall in loose waves down her back. Lifting one hand, he ran it through the heavy black silk of her hair.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine. They searched me, J.T.. Can you believe that?”
He smiled, amused by her indignation. “What did they find?”
Brandy shrugged. “Not much. A gun. A knife.”
“Sounds like you were plannin’ a jail break.”
She nodded, unabashed. “J.T., what can I do?”
“Nothing, love.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “Did you really think you could break me out of here?”
“Not really, but I thought you might be able to escape, if you had a weapon.”
J.T. nodded, wishing she had been successful. If he had his druthers, he’d much rather be killed trying to escape than have to face the hangman again.
“Are you all right, J.T.? Can I bring you anything?”
“No.” He was glad it was almost over. Last night, his nightmares had come back to haunt him. “I’d just like to know how Dinsmore knew I was in town.”
“That worm who worked the desk, he recognized you and turned you in. Did you know there was a reward out for you? Five hundred dollars.” Brandy grimaced. “I hope he chokes on it.”
She glanced at the blood-stained bandage wrapped around J.T.’s thigh. “You shouldn’t be standing up.”
“Neither should you.”
“I’m fine. If it’s any consolation, Nora fired that skunk this afternoon.”
“Not much,” J.T. allowed with a wry grin.
Brandy reached through the bars, wrapping her arms around him, clinging to him, wishing she could keep him safe, wishing she could hold him forever. And yet, strange as it seemed, she could feel unseen forces at work and she knew that nothing she did could alter the future.
With crystal clarity, she realized that even if J.T. had somehow managed to escape last night, he would have been brought back to this moment in time. And she knew, just as surely that, one way or another, Fate or karma or whatever you wanted to call it would have brought them both back to Cedar Ridge. She remembered J.T. saying that it had all started here, and it would end here. Had he known, even then, that he couldn’t escape his destiny?
Brandy stiffened in J.T’s arms as she heard footsteps approaching the cellblock.
“Time’s up, ma’am,” Dinsmore called.
“Please let me stay a little longer.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Please?”
The lawman hesitated, then shrugged. “What the hell,” he muttered. “You can stay a few minutes if you want.”
“Thank you,” Brandy said fervently.
“Dinsmore!”
“What do you want, Cutter?”
“Bring her a chair, will ya?”
“Sure, why not.”
Brandy smiled at the sheriff as he brought her a battered-looking ladder-back chair from his office. “Here you go, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod, Dinsmore left the cellblock, closing the door behind him.
Brandy sighed as she sat down on the chair.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” J.T. asked.
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
J.T. dragged the cot over to the bars and sat down. Brandy immediately reached for his hand, pressing it to her belly. “It seems like he’s moving all the time now.”
“He’s got a strong kick. Does it ever hurt you?”
“No. He makes it hard for me to sleep sometimes. Seems like he wants to do somersaults just when I’m ready for bed.”
They sat without speaking for a moment. J.T.’s gaze moved over Brandy’s face, conscious of the relentless passage of time. With every moment that went by, he was closer to the gallows, closer to losing Brandy.
“Tell him who he is, Brandy. Teach my son to be proud of his Indian heritage.”
“I will,” she promised. “You know I will.”
“I have a feeling you’ll get back home.”
“Do you?”
J.T. nodded. “I can’t explain it, but I think we would have ended up here in Cedar Ridge no matter what.”
“I was thinking that, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She leaned forward. “Kiss me,” she murmured. “I’m dying for you to kiss me.”
His arms slipped through the openings in the bars and curled around her waist, holding her gently as his lips explored hers, his tongue tracing the outline of her mouth. His hands slid up and down her rib cage, his thumbs brushing against her breasts.
Wanting to hold her closer, he stood up, drawing her with him, pressing himself against the cold iron bars that separated him from the only woman he had ever loved. His hands roamed over her back, slid across her belly, cupped the fullness of her breasts.
He felt the heat of her, the desire that made her clutch at his shoulders as her mouth opened to his, their tongues mating in a timeless dance of yearning.
Never again, he thought, after tonight, he would never hold her again, never kiss her, never see her smile. Should Gideon send him on to Heaven, it would seem like Hell without her. Brandy, Brandy…
He groaned softly as he contemplated an eternity without her.
Brandy melted against him, reveling in the touch of his hands even as her own fingers hastened to explore every ha
rd-muscled inch of his body, committing to memory of breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his hair, the long ropy muscles in his arms. She ran her cheek over his jaw, memorizing the way his whiskers felt against her skin. She kissed him, and kissed him again, absorbing the touch of his lips, the taste of his tongue.
Never again, she thought, after tonight he would never be hers again. Please, Gideon, he’s a good man. Take him to Heaven. Please don’t let him suffer… I love him so much… Please don’t take him from me…
“Time to go, Missus Cutter.”
“No.” Brandy clung to J.T., her gaze moving slowly over his face. “Please, not yet.”
“Sorry, ma’am, you’ll have to go now.”
“I love you, J.T.. I’ll always love you.”
“I know.” His arms tightened around her, and he kissed her one last time. “I love you, Brandy. I’ll love you through eternity.”
Dinsmore cleared his throat. “Ma’am?”
“God bless you, J.T..”
“And you.” He took her hands in his, his eyes dark with torment. “Don’t come to the hanging, Brandy.”
“But…”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you there. Stay with Nora ’til it’s over. Promise me?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Goodbye, Brandy love,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she leaned forward and kissed him one last time. “Go with God, J.T..”
“Missus Cutter?”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
J.T. released her hands. “You’d best go now.”
Brandy gazed deep into his eyes. “I love you.”
“I know.” He clenched his hands to keep from reaching for her. Dragging it out wouldn’t do either of them any good.
With a strangled sob, Brandy turned away from the cell and walked blindly down the aisle toward the door.
Hands wrapped around the bars, J.T. watched her walk away and knew his whole life was going with her.
She turned when she reached the doorway. He saw her take a deep breath, and then she smiled at him, her beautiful gray eyes shining with tears, and then she was gone.
* * * * *
“There, there, dear,” Nora crooned, “you go on and cry. You’ll feel better.”
“He…he doesn’t want me to be there tomorrow.”
“Well, of course he doesn’t,” Nora said, patting Brandy on the back. “A hanging’s a horrible thing to see. I know, I’ve been to a couple.” Nora shuddered with the memory.
“But it’s my last chance to see him.”
“I know. But, believe me, dear, you don’t want your last memory of J.T. to be watching him hang. It’s a sight that will haunt you the rest of your life. I don’t understand why anyone would want to watch.”
“Who was it?” Brandy asked, her own sorrow momentarily forgotten. “Who did you see hanged?”
“My brother, Samuel. He was only twenty years old.”
“Oh, Nora, I’m so sorry.”
“He was one of those boys who was always looking for trouble,” Nora explained sadly, “and when he was eighteen, he found it. He started robbing banks, and then one day when he was running away from a bank he’d just robbed, he killed a man. I was the only family he had, and he asked me to be there for him. It was terrible. You have no idea how awful it was to stand there and know there was nothing I could do…” Nora took a deep breath. “It’s late. You should go to bed. You need your rest, you know?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to go to sleep.”
“Try to get some rest then.”
“Nora, where did you meet J.T.?”
“Here, in Cedar Ridge. He spent the night in my hotel a couple of times.”
“How did you get to be such good friends?”
“I’m not sure. I guess he reminded me of Sam. When J.T. was arrested, I made sure he got enough to eat and a change of clothes.” Nora shrugged. “Somehow, we got to be good friends.” Nora placed her hand on Brandy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Goodnight, Brandy. Try not to worry.”
“Goodnight. Thank you for everything.”
Lying in bed, Brandy closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Hands resting lightly over her womb, she wept silent tears, crying for J.T., for herself, for the child who would never know what a wonderful man his father had been.
She rose with the dawn. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she went to the window and stared down into the street.
In spite of the early hour, a crowd had gathered at the far end of town. She could see the gallows, looking like an ugly brown stain against the brightening sky.
A movement across the street caught her eye and she saw the jail door open, saw J.T. step onto the boardwalk, followed by Sheriff Dinsmore and his deputy. Both lawmen carried rifles.
In the distance, the courthouse clock chimed the hour.
She watched J.T. walk down the step to the street. His hands were shackled behind his back. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced over his shoulder toward the hotel. His gaze met hers for one brief sweet moment. She saw his lips move, knew he was telling her he loved her, and then Dinsmore was prodding him in the back with the rifle, urging him down the street.
With a sob, she turned away from the window and fell across the bed, her hands pressed over her ears to block out the sound of the chimes that were ticking away the final moments of J.T.’s life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
J.T. stood on the gallows, his gaze fixed on the hotel. It was April 10th, 1876. Only a year ago he’d stood in this place, he thought grimly. A year ago, while he hadn’t been particularly eager to die, he’d had nothing to live for. But that wasn’t true anymore. For the first time in his whole miserable life, he had something to live for, someone to love.
Brandy… He felt a lump rise in his throat as he thought of all he was leaving behind.
Brandy, be well. I love you. I love you…
An old familiar fear uncoiled deep in his belly as the hangman stepped forward. “Any last words?”
J.T. shook his head. “Just get it over with.”
He fought down the urge to vomit as the hangman dropped the thick black hood over his head. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ve been here before. A quick jerk, and then it’s over.
Nothing to be afraid of. He couldn’t still the trembling that shook his body as the hangman slipped the rope around his neck. Fear rose up within him, only to be swept away by regret.
I love you, Brandy, I love you…
He summoned her image to mind, held it close as a sudden stillness settled over the crowd.
He took a deep breath, wondering where Gideon was.
His last thought, before the trap was sprung, was of Brandy, and then he was falling, twisting, spiraling downward.
He waited for the rope to hit its end, waited for the horrible pain, the smothering darkness that had preceded the ethereal light, but there was no darkness, no pain, just the light drawing him upward. Warm and soft, it enveloped him in an aura of love that transcended mortal man’s comprehension.
“Welcome home, John.”
“Gideon?”
The angel stepped out of the light, looking exactly as J.T. remembered.
“You’ve done well,” Gideon remarked. “Much better than I dared hope.”
J.T. took a deep breath. The hood and the rope were gone. His hands were free. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, but you did. You have learned much in a short time, John. You learned the value of love, of giving, of service, of self-sacrifice. We are pleased with you.”
“So, now what? I mosey on into heaven, get fitted for wings, take harp lessons?”
“John, please,” the angel said, looking offended. “I am far too busy to have time to sit and play a harp. And angels have no need of wings.” Gideon smiled benignly. “I fear you have much to learn about heaven.”
“No doubt.”
“As
I said, John, you have done well, but you are not yet fit for heaven. Indeed, no mortal attains purity in a lifetime. The road to perfection is an eternal struggle. But you are on the right path now, John, the one that leads upward to celestial life.” Gideon smiled. “For now, Paradise awaits you.”
J.T. nodded. He supposed he should be glad he wasn’t bound for the flames of hell, but all he could think of was Brandy. He wanted her. Needed her.
“Most people would be pleased to know they had saved themselves from an eternity of unhappiness,” Gideon remarked thoughtfully, “yet you do not seem to be happy.”
“How can I be happy?” J.T. demanded angrily. “For the first time in my life, I had a woman who loved me. I was about to be a father. Dammit, I mean, darn it, for the first time I had something worth living for, and now it’s gone, and you expect me to be happy.”
The angel folded his arms across his chest, his expression thoughtful. “I think perhaps I might have made an error in judgment.”
Alarm skittered down J.T.’s spine. “An error?”
“Indeed. Some souls need more tenderizing than others. I fear yours may be one of them.”
Fear left a brassy taste in J.T.’s mouth as visions of an endless fiery hell rose up in his mind.
“What do you mean?” Darkness coalesced around J.T., drawing him away from the light. “Gideon? Gideon!”
“Stay on the right path, John, and we will meet again.”
“Gideon!” A hoarse cry erupted from J.T.s throat as he felt himself falling, endlessly falling, through time and space…
* * * * *
With a cry, Brandy ran toward the body dangling from the end of the rope. The townspeople were gone, the sun was setting, and the whole earth seemed to be holding its breath.
I’ve done this before. The thought crossed her mind as she reached out to touch J.T.’s leg, reeled back as a jolt of electricity ran up her arm. For a moment, everything went black and then she was plunging into a dark tunnel, spinning out of control, just as she had before.
Only this time she wasn’t alone.
When the darkness passed, she opened her eyes to find herself lying on the ground. And there, lying beside her, she saw J.T..
The Angel and the Outlaw Page 27