by Rue Allyn
“Wolves?” Ev croaked, raising his head on his own.
Muh’Weda gave him the skin again.
Ev drank. Had those delirious nightmares been real? What had kept the wolves from having him for lunch?
The brave nodded. “They defended you like you were their last meal. We had to lure them out with a couple of fresh rabbits. We took so long getting you settled on the travois, rounding up your horses, and packing your supplies that we were afraid the wolves would come back. We didn’t want to have to kill them to get you away, but they vanished along with the rabbits.”
“That’s incredible,” Ev muttered between sips of water.
“I’ve heard of such things in legends but have never seen it nor do I know anyone who has. I will tell Spirit Talker when we return to Yellow Stone Lake. He may be able to explain the wolves’ behavior better.”
Ev didn’t know what to make of the story, so he kept sipping water until he could take no more. By then his energy was depleted. However, instead of laying back he tried to rise.
“I’ve got to … ”
“No,” insisted Muh’Weda. “You must rest. I’ll get you to Kiera soon enough.”
They traveled at a snail’s pace, crawling over the ridges and dales with deliberate care for Ev’s injuries. He should have been grateful. He was, but he was also impatient more with the infirmities that didn’t heal fast enough and forced the slow pace than he was with Muh’Weda and the other Shoshone helping him.
Two weeks after Kiera’s departure, the rescue party reached the Shoshone camp on the shores of Yellow Stone Lake. By then Ev was hobbling, but he tired easily and still lacked the strength in his thigh to be able to sit a horse for very long. They arrived as the moon was rising. Ev wanted to see Kiera immediately, but he was taken to a small lodge furnished with food and sleeping furs and left there with two Shoshone men guarding the entrance. When he attempted to leave, the two men very firmly made him understand he was to stay inside.
He finally fell asleep on the furs. His sleep was sound and dreamless. He woke slowly to see Spirit Talker seated and tending his leg wound. Muh’Weda sat next to the medicine man.
Spirit Talker tightened a bandage then looked Ev in the face as Muh’Weda handed Ev bread and pointed to a bowl.
“While you eat I wish to speak of these wolves Muh’Weda says you have seen. Please tell me about them.”
In between bites, Ev recited the incident at the hot springs and then in the cave.
When he finished, Spirit Talker nodded. “These wolves are guardians of Dabai’Waipi. I remember seeing them before Muh’Weda brought our daughter of the heart to us out of the snow. As long as you do not harm Dabai’Waipi, the wolves will not harm you.” The man took Ev’s empty bowl and handed him washing water and a pile of cloth. “Wash. Use these clean clothes. Muh’Weda will be outside when you are ready.”
“Kiera … ?”
The man left before Ev could form a single question — and he had so many.
Indians! Ev would never understand why they behaved as they did. He needed to know if he was their guest or their prisoner? Promising to take him to Kiera was all well and good, but it hadn’t happened yet. Either way he figured he’d comply with instructions. In his experience, objecting just slowed things down, and until he saw Kiera for himself, he was in a mighty big hurry.
When he emerged from the tipi, Muh’Weda led Ev to the council. This, at least, was familiar from his earlier stay at the camp. The same three elders sat in the same places with the men and women of the tribe flanking them on either side. A pipe was passed around. When a young man handed the pipe to Ev, he knew better than to refuse. He also knew that the version of tobacco used by some nations could sometimes pack a powerful punch. He sucked the smoke into his mouth and slowly released as much smoke as he politely could without inhaling too much. Then he passed the pipe to the next man.
Smiles and nods of approval dotted the room, but the elders remained stoic. When the pipe ceremony ended and the pipe was emptied, cleaned and stowed away, Spirit Talker stood.
Ev moved to stand as well, but Muh’Weda’s hand on his arm held him back. “Patience, Marshal. You will learn everything you need to know in good time.”
Time. He didn’t have time. Not until he knew Kiera was safe.
“Two Ponies has returned from Laramie with news of Dabai’Waipi sent by the man Boyd. As they said they would, the blue coats have left her in the jail at Laramie. Boyd sees her each day and ensures that her needs are met. The whites in that town will hold a trial when the judge who rides comes.”
Ev felt his heart clutch as if a noose tightened around it. Laramie was several days hard riding, and he was in no shape to ride hard. At least Boyd was with Kiera and would do what he could to prevent a trial until Ev could show up and claim his prisoner. Without the photographic evidence Kiera had left with him and which he hadn’t seen since before waking up on the travois, Ev could think of only one way to save her. With his Marshal’s authority, he’d force her release into his custody on the premise that he’d take her farther east for a fair trial. Once away from Laramie, he could release her and claim she’d escaped into Canada.
Spirit Talker paused, turning to receive something from one of the Shoshone men standing behind him. When the medicine man turned back, Ev saw that the object was the oiled leather packet holding the precious evidence photographs. “These pictures were found near you when you were brought from Smoke Valley.
The noose around Ev’s heart loosened a small amount.
“You will take them, Marshal,” continued Spirit Talker. “Prove to the judge who rides that Dabai’Waipi is not guilty as others claim. Bring her home to us safely.”
Muh’Weda rose, took the packet from the medicine man and gave it to Ev.
“Thank you. I will do everything in my power to see that justice is done.”
Spirit Talker nodded.
“This is good. You must leave quickly. Dabai’Waipi does not have much time. Take this also.” Muh’Weda repeated his task as go between, giving Ev a small water skin.
“Rub some on your wounds then drink the rest. Your injuries will heal faster. You will need it to get to Laramie in time to help Dabai’Waipi.”
A push from Muh’Weda on Ev’s elbow signaled it was time to stand. “Thank you, Spirit Talker. I owe you.”
The medicine man smiled and nodded. “Yes.”
Muh’Weda took Ev by the shoulder. “Let us be on our way.”
Ev left thinking that he might be in serious trouble owing a debt to a Shoshone medicine man.
CHAPTER TEN
After days of waiting inside her jail cell, Kiera sat in a hard chair and watched Boyd pound on the defendant’s table set up in the saloon being used as a courtroom. He’d arrived late, after sending a telegram, to hear the judge’s outrageous statement.
“Judge Richter, you cannot put this woman on trial without legal representation.”
The middle aged man at the table serving as the judge’s podium turned a frown on Boyd. “You a lawyer, young man?”
“No sir, but … ”
“Then shut your trap.”
“I’m a witness.”
“You’ll get your turn to speak your piece if you’re called on to testify. Until then any more words from you are out of order, and you will be charged with contempt and put in jail. Then I won’t have to listen to your yap.”
The second day of her so-called trial didn’t seem to be going any better than the first, when the judge had called on the horse thief to identify herself. The rest of the first day had been taken up with jury selection. Kiera had sensed hostility from every juror selected, even the three very respectable women. Despite the dark, modest shirtwaist Boyd had conjured for her, Kiera was anything but respectable. She knew how decent women looked on tho
se whose reputations were less than pristine. On that basis alone, the three were likely to want her to hang. She was less sure about the nine men. Every one of them had examined her with speculation in his eyes. A couple had blatantly ogled her. She knew she was attractive, but she doubted that would influence ranchers and cowhands whose lives depended on horses. With the judge treating her as already convicted, she’d be hanged on suspicion alone. No, the first day hadn’t gone well.
Judge Richter banged his gavel, calling for order. Silence hushed the crowded room. “The prosecutor will provide his opening statement.”
The litany of crimes, offenses, and sins presented by the county’s prosecuting attorney was a lot longer than Kiera expected. He accused her of fraud, vandalism, thievery, assault, arson, bank and train robbery, lewdness, public drunkenness, and assorted other offenses dating from childhood. Though how he could know was beyond her. The lies would have been funny if they hadn’t been so damning. The man’s delivery was flawless and earnest, building crime upon sin upon crime, culminating in the charges of murder, arson, and horse stealing.
Of the three, horse stealing was seen as the most vile. The wilderness was a dangerous place. Those who settled there risked injury and defied death every day. But without a horse, death was a near certainty. So horse stealing was worse than murder because it left the victim at the mercy of the elements to freeze, bake, starve, or be eaten alive by animals.
She’d left all but one horse with Ev, but they’d both known he wouldn’t be able to ride. He might as well have been stranded. Was he dead now? Immediately on arriving in Laramie, she’d been jailed, and Muh’Weda’s cousin had left to carry news back to the camp at Lake Yellow Stone. If Ev was alive, surely he’d be here by now. He’d urged her to leave him, but maybe he’d hoped she’d stay. Maybe he hated her for abandoning him, so why bother showing up to help her. Ev wasn’t like that. He said what he meant. The Shoshone would have killed Boyd if she hadn’t returned in time. Neither she nor Ev had expected a cavalry troop to be at the camp. Arrested on sight, she’d been forced to break her promise to return to him. She shook her head. She hoped Ev would understand and forgive her.
“What? You actually deny these charges?” The prosecutor’s astonishment broke in on her thoughts. He’d obviously noticed her headshake.
Her gaze met his accusing stare. He turned his back on her, without waiting for a reply. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, see how brazen and remorseless is this horse thief. Laramie and Wyoming have languished too long under the boot heel of thugs, robbers, and worse. It is past time we follow the example of our dearly departed Sheriff Boswell, throw off the chains of lawlessness, and give these criminals the hangings they deserve. Let us begin with this woman, the Wyoming Wildcat also known as Madam Kiera Whitson. We must rid ourselves, cleanse our land of this insult to womanhood, this scourge of deceit and violence, this … horse thief.”
With every word he jabbed his finger in her direction, stabbing home each point. Kiera felt none of it. She was now resigned to hanging, never to see her sisters again. She was grateful they would not know her fate. She had regrets, but not for the life she’d lived. Her only regrets were for actions left undone, plans that would never see fruition. Maybe if God was generous, she would join Ev in heaven.
“Judge Richter, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution will prove that the Wyoming Wildcat did willfully and maliciously murder Sheriff Boswell. Robbing him of life in the same moment that she robbed Big Si Van Demer of the horses that are his livelihood, and left him to default on contracts already made with the United States Government. Maliciously she set fire to the Van Demer horse barn, not merely to disguise the crime of murder, but to incite danger and confusion in the community so she could run away while others fought for their lives. Her callous thievery and willful destruction of property placed Mr. Van Demer’s ranch at risk of foreclosure that must force Si and his precious daughter into destitution, which will surely lead to his death and a young girl’s destruction.”
As one, the jurors drew back in fright. A murmur of disquiet rumbled through the audience. The judge banged his gavel. “Order. Order in my courtroom.”
Kiera almost laughed. The lawyer painted her guilty of crimes that were only possibilities. He made certain that each juror believed he or she was destined to be Kiera’s next victim, if they were foolish enough to acquit her.
“Being as how the defendant has elected not to provide a defense, the prosecutor may present his evidence and call his first witness.”
Beside her Boyd nearly leapt to his feet at the blatant lie. She gripped his arm hard. He subsided and turned to look at her. “I need you here to help me get through this, not sitting in a jail cell serving a sentence for contempt of court,” she hissed.
He nodded and shifted his attention back to the courtroom.
“The prosecution calls Mr. Yancy Davis.”
At first Kiera didn’t recognize the man shuffling up the makeshift aisle between the sections of seated observers. His hair was hidden under a new hat. He wore an eye patch, and his clothes were stiff, as if they were new and store-bought. When he reached the space between the defense and prosecution tables, he turned and bent his stare on her. She looked up to see a sneering smile distorted by a face full of scars and one beady yellow eye. Cream!
He’d disappeared after attempting to kill Ev. They’d never known how he escaped the ropes she’d tied him with. She had been too busy trying to help Ev recover from his wounds to go chasing off after a walking dead man. That’s how she’d thought of Cream. He had no weapons, no food, and no horse. The chances that he would survive and make it all the way to Laramie had been astronomical. Perhaps even the stars were against her.
Cream moved on without a word to stand before the witness chair and be sworn in.
Once he was seated, the prosecutor approached. “Mr. Davis, please tell us in your own words when you met the Wyoming Wildcat, where you were, and what happened from that time until you arrived in Laramie.”
“Me and my partners got a claim up in the mountains beyond Wind River.”
“Your partners names, please,” interrupted the prosecutor. “For the record.”
“Reb Jones and Smitty Albright.”
“Thank you.”
“Like I was sayin’. We were panning for gold on our claim when this woman shows up.”
“Is the woman in the courtroom?”
Cream pointed toward Kiera. “That’s her.”
“You’re certain?”
“I won’t never forget the woman who killed my friends, ripped out my eye, and murdered a U.S. Marshal.”
Gasps flew round the courtroom.
“Order,” shouted the judge.
“Please describe how these events happened.”
“She was with the marshal, and she wasn’t handcuffed or nothin’, so when they asked for food and shelter, a course we gave it to ‘em.”
“Do you know why this criminal wasn’t manacled?”
“No sir. But she was crawlin’ all over the marshal, so I thought she was his woman. Didn’t imagine he’d go and lay with a murderin’ horse thief.”
“So you gave the marshal and the Wyoming Wildcat shelter and food.”
“Yessir. They was real tired like, so we let ‘em stay a couple days. Then, early one morning, I found that Wildcat woman stealing our stash. I got the jump on her, so she couldn’t shoot me. She fought hard and dirty, gouging my eye right outta my head. She ran off. Took the gold, and left me for dead. Next thing I know, I hear gunshots coming from our cabin. By the time I get there, I see her in the saddle stealing the horses from the corral. I tried to catch one back and follow her, but I was hurt too bad. I headed for the cabin. Found my friends and the marshal murdered and the building on fire. I figure she did that to hide the murder she done. That claim was dry as
tinder, like most of Wyoming this year. Without horses, I nearly died. Would have, if I hadn’t managed to find a trickle of a stream that wasn’t dried up. Was sheer luck that I ran into Clem Salter and his men searching for the Wildcat. They brought me back to Laramie and got me fixed up, so’s I could have my say in court. I wanna make sure that woman don’t kill nobody else ever again.”
“Is that all?” asked the prosecutor.
“‘S everything that matters.”
The judge eyed Kiera thoughtfully then sighed as if he carried a heavy burden. “Why I imagine a horse thief would do anything but lie, I don’t know. However the law requires that I ask if you got anything you want to say to this man or about his testimony?”
Kiera stood. “He’s lying. He and his friends tried to steal my gold. I filed a claim on that land under my legal middle and last names, Boudicca Alden. They set fire to my cabin. They tried to kill me and Marshal Quinn. The last time I saw the marshal, he was seriously injured, but alive.
The prosecutor hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets and stuck out his chest. “A likely story, and a very convenient pack of lies that accounts for everything but this.”
He and the judge seemed to have forgotten that it was her turn to speak. She intended to remind them and remained standing.
The lawyer withdrew an object from a pocket in his suit coat and presented it to the judge. “Your honor, I wish to place into evidence this badge. You will note that it is a US Marshal’s badge with the name Evrett Quinn engraved on the back side.”
The lawyer displayed the pointed metal star to the gallery then walked to the jury giving each member a good look at the blackened metal before returning it to the judge.
“How’d you come by this?” asked the judge.
“It came into my possession from the hand of the witness. Mr. Davis, explain to the court how you obtained this item.”
“It was an impulse, sorta. I was in the cabin, and it was burnin’. I tried to get my friends and the marshal out, but weak as I was from loss of blood I couldn’t manage. I knew that nobody’d take the word of one old miner against that of a beautiful woman, no matter how evil she might be. So I took the marshal’s badge to prove what I said was true. No marshal would give up his badge ‘less he’s dead.”