Gabriel's Lady (Leisure Historical Romance)

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Apache Pete followed Faustina into the undertaker’s black carriage with the air of a man determined to prevail…and perhaps to profit from this tragedy.

  “I don’t like this one little bit.” Solace ran her hand through her short curls, acutely aware that the show’s performers and roustabouts followed her every move. They treated her differently now that she wore a simple gown of dark brown faille…as though they thought Sol Juddson looked mighty odd in a dress.

  “Forget their theatrics. Focus on being your straightforward, unshakable self, Solace.” Gabe walked her to the buckboard without touching her. “When a jury convicts the innocent, it’s often because the accused behave as though they are guilty. Or they feel intimidated by the threats and accusations leveled at them and cave in. I’ve seen folks admit to crimes they didn’t commit because they couldn’t handle cross-examination.”

  He stopped beside the buckboard, weaving his fingers together to give her a step up—but then he straightened to his full height again. “Be aware that for some folks, a trial is a game—and they love to play it from all possible sides,” he said softly. “Just because they can.”

  Solace’s stomach clenched at this remark. Gabe made it sound as if she was a duck decoy at a carnival stand, waiting to be shot at for a prize. “I hate to sound…desperate,” she breathed, “but I’d feel so much better if you were trying my case, Gabe. I-I’m no good at fending off threats, or standing up to accusations. Especially now that people will be staring at me—at my short hair—and thinking—”

  Gabe grabbed her head gently between his hands. His dark eyes widened behind his lenses as his fingers sifted her soft curls. He gazed at her face as though he might never see her again—might never…

  His kiss made her heart lurch, and then gallop like a filly set free! He was telling her he loved her. Expressing what he couldn’t put into words: that everything would work out. And after he made sure she won her case, they’d ride off into that magical, mystical sunset of her daydreams.

  Solace slipped her arms around his waist, holding tightly to this vision…kissing Gabe with all the love her heart held, now that she finally had the chance. His lips were urgent; he was seeking completion, just as she was.

  He pulled away too soon. Looked as flummoxed as she felt. “I-I’ve taken a room in town, for both our sakes,” he rasped. “This case is all about your credibility, Solace. If I were presiding as the judge, Apache Pete would have reason to declare a mistrial because I’m a friend of your family. We can’t take any chances right now.”

  We can’t take any chances? She inhaled sharply. He might as well have gut-punched her. Was Gabriel Getty hiding behind his judicial robe for her benefit, or his own? “I understand what you’re saying. I guess.”

  He looked away as though he couldn’t bear to watch her cry. Because she was going to. “I would drive you home, but—”

  “You have a job to show up for. Important things to do and people to see,” she murmured. She hated to sound so pathetic, but this was not the way she’d pictured things while he was kissing her. “Thanks for all your help, Gabe. It’s not like I can’t find my way home. I-I’ll see you again before the trial, I hope.”

  Truth be told, Solace saw Gabe Getty every time she climbed the stairs the next two weeks…Gabe standing in her sister’s embrace, while the sunshine beamed down on them like a blessing Lily had arranged with her angels. Small consolation that she had her room back; her sister had returned to Miss Vanderbilt’s Academy for Young Ladies while she’d been performing in the Extravaganza.

  On the surface, her life seemed the same as before she’d re united with Gabe at Billy’s house, but everything that mattered had changed.

  At least Lily hadn’t wrangled Gabe away from her, but the fights with her sister shrouded her days like a dark cloud. It wasn’t her way to bicker—not with the sister who’d been her closest friend as they’d grown up. Gracie was probably still peeved at her, too, because Bernadette had spoken to her first. And now that she awaited her day in court, her parents’ faces tightened every time they looked at her.

  Was it her imagination, or did Mama and Papa look older? More vulnerable than she’d ever imagined them? They weren’t saying it straight out, but Solace suspected they were worried sick…all because she’d ridden off in a huff and joined up with Apache Pete’s Wild West Extravaganza on a dare, to prove herself.

  Well, what had she proven, really? A few days of glory, riding her horses and showing off in buckskins with Rex, had cost her more than she’d bargained for.

  Tongues were wagging in town, about how she’d ridden to hell in a handbasket, disguising herself as a boy to ride and shoot. Solace didn’t feel comfortable showing herself in public—especially not in church, where people she’d known all her life stared at her hair. These same friends treated her parents differently, too. They stopped whispering when Mama and Papa approached—or they lectured about how to deal with a daughter gone wrong.

  So Solace divided her days between riding Lincoln and Lee with Rex, and moping in her room. Each glance in her mirror was a reminder of her foolish, impulsive decision to perform as a boy, so she stopped looking there. But she couldn’t miss the direct gaze her father gave her from his frame on her night stand…couldn’t dodge the fact that she’d made her choices, and everyone was paying for them now.

  One afternoon when she felt particularly bleak, she picked up the picture of Daddy that had been her guide and mainstay ever since Mama gave it to her. Again she studied his dark eyebrows and curls, which resembled her own now.

  Judd Monroe’s face shone with strength and integrity…surely this man had never done anything foolish, as she had! Her father knew the Bible backward and forward. Had devoted himself to serving others and raising fine Morgan horses for the stagecoaches that connected East with West. He’d remained true to his faith. And he’d died defending his home—her mother and Billy and Asa—from attacking Indians. Judd Monroe had made the ultimate sacrifice so she would survive in Mama’s womb.

  “And what have I sacrificed?” she whispered sadly. “Oh, Daddy, you must be so disappointed with the mess I’ve gotten myself into! I’ve fallen so far short of everyone’s expectations—”

  “No, Solace. You’ve thrown us a few curves,” a voice replied from the doorway, “but we’ve always admired your strength; the way you insist on being the stalwart trailblazer God created you to be. We couldn’t stop loving you if we tried.”

  She looked up, gripping the picture. She knew Mama was aware that she spoke with her father’s spirit, but having Papa find her this way felt…awkward. “You must think it’s pretty silly for me to talk to—”

  He crossed the room in two strides to sit beside her on the bed. His arms were lean but corded from physical labor, and his embrace enveloped her in a love so fierce it made her gasp.

  “Honey, your father was a man to be admired, but you know what?” His mustache curved with a grin that held a secret. “Judd Monroe felt he fell short. Constantly wondered if he’d asked too much of your mother, bringing her here to homestead in a log house where they had to scratch out a living.”

  Michael Malloy’s face took on a pensive glow, lit by those golden-brown eyes. “It hurt him, that Mercy cooked for hours so the passengers on my stagecoaches could gulp their meals and then leave her with a huge mess twenty minutes later.”

  Solace sniffled into the red handkerchief he’d handed her. “But that was different! He hadn’t run away to follow a shallow, impossible dream—”

  “Your mama’s parents—and his—thought he had.” Papa thumbed a tear from her cheek, smiling tenderly. “His family owned a carriage factory and your mother’s people were quite well off. Judd refused to fit himself into their mold. Knew he was created for something other than running a business, so he left a secure future to raise horses out here on the untamed prairie.

  “And he raised the finest horses in Kansas, honey,” Papa insisted in a low voice. “Your mother b
elieved in his dream and worked alongside him to make it come true. It’s why I respected them both so much.”

  Again that grin flickered as the man who raised her recalled his past. “Judd Monroe’s example inspired me to settle down and help your mama raise all the children God sent her way. Before that I was a nomad without a cause. Just like Joel.”

  “Still sounds a lot more…noble than anything I’ve ever done,” Solace said with a sigh. “And now I’ve made things harder for Gabe, when he’s starting his new job as a judge. It was a kick in the gut when he took a room in town. But then, why would he want to be seen with me, when—”

  Papa’s soft laughter shook the mattress. “He’s going through a time of testing, to be sure. But it has nothing to do with your hair, honey! Gabe Getty’s establishing himself again so he can make the right impression…so he can be worthy of the woman who takes his breath away.”

  Solace raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Now who’s talking silly?”

  “Love is never silly, Solace. It’s the reason we were created.”

  She swallowed hard. Papa’s hazel eyes had softened but he didn’t drop his gaze. He gently took the picture from her hands and smiled at the image behind the glass.

  “Your father knew that. Your mother knows it, too.” His voice was so soft, she had to listen carefully. “And I’ve seen that same ability to love—to share and serve, to dare and trust—in you, Solace, since the first time you laid those big brown eyes on me, honey. Gabe’s a lucky man.”

  Papa sighed, rubbing her knuckles. “He knew better than to fall for Lily, although her affection’s sincere. But he’s scared that he’ll relive the pain he went through with Letitia—afraid he won’t measure up, in your eyes. Once this court case is behind us, Gabe will soar with the strength of his purpose and convictions. He’ll devote his whole heart and soul to winning you then.”

  Though Papa’s words stirred something deep within her, they still sounded too good to be true. “But Pete and Faustina will convince the jury that I’m deceitful! They’ll say such awful things—”

  “‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,’” Papa reminded her quietly. He squeezed her hands between his strong fingers. “You feel like you’re in the valley of the shadow now, Solace, but never forget—it’s only a valley, and it’s only a shadow. Fear no evil, just like David wrote in his Psalm. David was far from perfect—as we all are—but the Lord loved him and blessed him. He’s blessing you, too, Solace.”

  As he pressed a kiss to her temple, tears trickled from her eyes. She badly wanted to believe what Papa had said: he was another man who never lied, or did anything thoughtless or stupid.

  Was it true, that Gabe was working to be worthy of her?

  Do I really take his breath away?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Gabe paused over the telegram he was composing. The last thing he intended was to bring his best friend running when Billy was so busy raising his children and his horses….

  Keep us in your prayers. Solace goes to trial for a

  trumped-up murder next week. Got my seat on the bench, but can’t try her case. Lily returned to the academy, peeved that I can’t marry her. HOW DO YOU HANDLE ALL THOSE WOMEN?? Gabe.

  The message sounded silly and self-serving, but he had no time to think up another one. He tossed the paper to the telegrapher along with a few coins. “That goes to Billy Bristol in Richmond, Missouri, please.”

  “Yes sir, Your Honor. Fine man, Billy is,” the fellow remarked from beneath his green visor. “We could use more like him in Abilene these days.”

  “You’ve got that right. Thanks.” Gabe strode out the door, turning his thoughts to the high-backed chair and impressive wooden desk he’d occupy again today…a dream he could scarcely believe he’d achieved. He’d known several judges in the St. Louis courts, but he’d never imagined the responsibility that came with sitting in such a lofty courtroom seat. Life and death were in his hands. He had the power to change lives….

  So why can’t you change your own? Leave Letitia behind and hitch your wagon to Solace’s star? You know she loves you.

  “Morning, Getty. Break your razor?”

  Gabe blinked at the short, rotund man entering the office beside his own. He’d seen very little of Hannibal Prescott, and wasn’t sure how to respond to him.

  Maybe the truth is your best bet, his thoughts challenged, but the voice was Solace’s. Color crept into his cheeks. “I’m growing a beard. Maybe if folks associate me with Abraham Lincoln, they won’t wonder if I’m old enough to—”

  “Lincoln?” Prescott’s laughter echoed in the paneled hallway. “Trying to get yourself assassinated, kid? From what I hear, that gal they arrested at the Wild West show might use you for target practice!”

  Gabe stopped in his doorway to study this man before he replied to such an outrageous remark. What he’d heard about “Hanging Hannibal” rang true, not because this judge was so hard on outlaws, but because he shot off his mouth before his brain was engaged.

  “I doubt that, sir,” he replied coolly. “I’ve known Solace Monroe all her life. And I know she did not kill Cora Walsh.”

  “So that’s why I got stuck with this case? Because you’re sweet on the accused?” Prescott looked him up and down with a jaundiced eye. “No matter what you know—or don’t know—I promise you this, Getty: the gavel’s coming down hard on anyone who makes a mockery of justice in my courtroom! At the first sign of a circus, Miss Monroe’s dog-and-pony show’ll be tossed in the calaboose—or we’ll string her up. Don’t go thinking I’ll be lenient, just because she’s a girl—or because she’s your girl!”

  “I never said—”

  “You don’t have to,” the portly barrister jeered. “It’s written all over your face, little man.”

  As Prescott slammed his office door behind him, Gabe entered his own sanctum with bumblebees in his belly. Did his face reveal so much? Or was Hanging Hannibal full of bluster—seeing what he wanted to see? Though his first case had often felt like a comedy of errors, Gabe gave the two previous Prescott wives credit: opposite as they were, they’d both had the sense to leave him.

  But he had more important matters to consider.

  He let his satchel drop to the floor beside his desk…unlocked his bottom drawer and, using his handkerchief, took out the pearl-handled pistol that had killed Crack-Shot Cora. His thoughts wandered back to her pale body…to the two bullet holes that had made him queasy at the undertaker’s.

  What didn’t set right? Why had his gut told him something didn’t add up, when it came to the lady sharpshooter’s wounds?

  Gabe looked at the pistol again, noting the smudged grime on its barrel…the dust that had stuck after it was fired and tossed aside. The answers were staring him in the face if he could only recognize them.

  He glanced at the clock. In an hour he’d hear the final testimony of two cowboys who denied rustling prime cattle from the ranch adjacent to their boss’s. He predicted the wronged rancher’s lawyer would rip their stories to shreds and the jury would reach a verdict quickly. Nobody wanted to deliberate in a musty courtroom when a pretty spring day beckoned. Justice was often a matter of such timing….

  And timing might determine the verdict in Solace’s case.

  On impulse, Gabe went to his bookshelf and ran his finger over the volumes crammed there…took out his newest title about methods of criminal detection. Hanging Hannibal could poke fun at his fledgling beard, but nobody bested Gabriel Getty when it came to researching his facts and hunches.

  Knowledge was power. He intended to show Judge Prescott a thing or two about what he—and Solace Monroe—were made of. And how powerfully persuasive they’d be when they joined forces.

  “You must let go of the sadness in your past!” young Betsy insisted. “You’re walking in the valley of the shadow, and you must believe you can reach the light at the end!”

  Will gave her a rueful smile. �
�Easier said than done. Losing my dear wife, Lorena, has stripped me of the will to love again. She was so despondent at the end, and try as I might, I couldn’t console her.”

  “Maybe she chose to be inconsolable. Just as she chose to truss herself too tightly in corsets, which rendered her unable to conceive your child.” Betsy paused, aware she was treading on dangerous, sacred ground. “You didn’t tip that laudanum bottle to her lips, Will. If you let your guilt overshadow your chances for happiness now, the opiate will have claimed two lives.”

  Solace reread her hastily scribbled pages, shaking her head. Her story about a frontier lawyer grieving his deceased wife seemed melodramatic, but it had been the best way to pass the unbearable days until her trial—and to express her deep feelings for the lawyer her hero, Will Motlow, was modeled after.

  Twice Gabe had declined Mama’s invitations to dinner, claiming he was working late on a troublesome case. And twice she’d sensed he was avoiding her company. Ever since he’d taken her face between his hands and kissed her, following his heart instead of his head, Solace sensed that Judge Getty was afraid of her. Afraid of what they could share, if only he’d let go of Letitia.

  Solace glanced out her window. The sun’s evening rays made the green, growing wheat shimmer as it rolled over the gentle hills. Out by the pasture gate, where Lincoln and Lee grazed, Rex sat surveying his domain. So orderly and perfect this picture looked…why couldn’t her life follow the same effortless pattern? One little mistake—one slip of her better judgment—had thrown her whole world into chaos.

  “Oh, stop the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth,” she muttered. She took fresh paper from the back of her portfolio and went to her desk. Better to write the final copy of this story than to mope away another evening. Work and Win might not buy this one, emotional as it was, but Solace felt better for getting her frustrations in writing. Things always clarified in her mind after she put pen to paper.