by Sandra Jones
“No. I’m afraid not.” Ray’s voice lowered an octave. Leaning around Kit, she saw the mayor avert his eyes. “Your deputy has been murdered. Shot in the back.”
“Hazen?”
“Jim?”
Her shocked voice echoed Kit’s before he added, “Could’ve been McGruder, a woman beater we ran into close to Dillard’s Peak. When I tried to arrest him, he shot at us. Got away.”
Ray shook his head. “Wasn’t him. McGruder was arrested down in Calico Springs yesterday evening, confessed to all sorts of crimes while waiting to see a doctor. No, Deputy Hazen was murdered in Fort McNamara in the alley outside the saloon. Someone saw a woman matching Cora’s description in the area earlier that night.” Ray looked at her now with accusation in his gaze.
Kit snorted. “We’ve been out of town for the past three days. Jupiter can attest to that.”
Mr. Buchanan shook his head. “Didn’t happen in the last three days. Happened the night before you two left.”
She felt the blood leeching from her face. She had been in town that evening. That would’ve been the last night she’d dressed as Velvet Grace.
Mr. Buchanan nudged his horse closer, circling Kit to get a better view of Cora. “I went to the Club. Searched her room. I found this hidden in a cabinet.” He reached in his saddlebag and gave them a glimpse of the blue fabric within.
“Sheriff, I’m afraid he’s right,” Ray said in a quiet voice. “After the witness came forward and the cloak was discovered, I went to the blacksmith. Jupiter told us he’d given the lady some bullets, even a gun some months ago. Before the last sheriff was murdered.”
“Cora, I had to tell the truth. My wife…” Jupiter pleaded, “Tell them you didn’t kill Sidlow. It had to have been another person. One of the other women, maybe?”
Nausea rose up, filling the back of her throat. She had to defend her employees, her friends. They were blameless, and she was strong. Be brave! Slowly, she slipped around Kit’s side, heading toward Buchanan. “My girls didn’t do it. None of them have held a gun in their lives—or wanted to.” Her instincts urged her to defend herself too. She could tell them she’d seen Jim trying to rape the girl in the alleyway, so there were probably other people who wanted to put lead in him—but what difference did that make? It would only make her look guiltier with a motive for killing the sonofabitch.
Kit’s hand closed around her elbow, keeping her firmly by his side. Warm and strong yet offering none of the tenderness he’d shown her less than an hour ago. He addressed Ray, “I’ll see to it that justice is done.”
His hard tone made her glance at him in surprise, but his stony gaze remained on the mayor, full of resolve. His grip was sure and unyielding, likely remembering that night and her sneaking back through the secret entrance of her bedroom.
Kit had suddenly forgotten whatever they’d shared these past few days.
Built more like a sepulcher for the deceased than a dwelling for the living, the Fort McNamara jail was made of stone and cement, and when Cora lay spread-eagle in the center of it, she was no more than three feet away from touching every wall.
Presently, the center of the cell was the only place Cora could bear to sit, as the walls had begun to weep from the change in temperature after the sun went down. Now left alone with only a hole in the wall and the occasional squeaking brown bat keeping her company, she struggled to keep from crying, pulling her knees to her body and rocking herself.
It had only been a few hours, but in the tiny quarters, it seemed a lifetime since she’d been outside, escorted back to town on what she now considered the horseback ride from hell.
The worst part of being arrested hadn’t been the fear of her coming trial and conviction, her likely sentence, or even being humiliated and left on public display for passing drunks to taunt from the street outside. No, the worst part came from Kit’s total silence during the journey, the feel of his rigid arms around her as they’d ridden without speaking to each other. Being with their escorts, the mayor and Kit’s new deputies, she’d been unable to say anything to Kit in her defense. Just as he’d been prevented from talking to her. If he’d wanted to, though he might not. His actions had been wooden as he’d helped her throw a couple of blankets and a few clothes in a bag. He’d refused to look at her even as he’d settled her on the back of his mount. His demeanor spoke volumes.
Now that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, he’d been forced to take sides to save himself. Not only didn’t he believe her innocent anymore, apparently, he hated her.
Presently, her eyes stung with new tears. No. He doesn’t deserve my tears. He should know I’m innocent. She’d freely admitted she was Velvet Grace, that she’d killed the sheriff. Why should he believe she hadn’t murdered the deputy as well? Because I didn’t. And by now, he should know me better. If he’d ever cared about me, he wouldn’t doubt me.
She tilted her face up toward the tiny window where moonlight teased and left her filled with longing for freedom. The moisture in her eyes subsided, her anger replacing her sadness.
“Cora?” a familiar woman’s voice whispered and a shadow filled the tiny opening.
“Millie?”
“Oh, thank God.” Lamplight flooded the space as her employee raised her lantern to the opening. “I had to wait until dark. Jupiter wouldn’t let me leave the Willows to come see you.”
She’d asked Kit to watch over the place. Curious that Jupiter would as well, but he’d been her friend for years. Maybe Kit had truly forsaken her now that she was being held as his prisoner.
“You shouldn’t be out here after dark. You know it’s not safe to come into town at night. You’re not alone are you?”
There was a long pause. “Yes. But I had to make sure you were all right. Oh, Cora!” she cried. “This is so unfair.” The lantern squeaked as she lowered it, and her pale hand reached into the cell.
The worry in her sweet voice brought Cora’s tears back, and she sprang up from the ground to take her friend’s hand. “Gracious. You’re so kind to visit, but you shouldn’t have. Jupiter was right. You don’t need to come around me. People in town might get suspicious and think you or the others were helping me. I don’t want to bring you into what I’ve done.”
“What you’ve done? You didn’t kill these men.”
Cora pulled her hand free from Millie’s grasp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know or have to share the burden, but I really did shoot the sheriff.”
The room fell silent for a moment.
Her throat grew tight. Perhaps Kit wasn’t the only one who felt she belonged in the cell, but she couldn’t allow her oldest friend to think the worst of her. She hastened to add, “But I didn’t kill Jim Hazen. I swear, I never even went after him that night. And I only shot Bill Sidlow because he gave me no choice.”
The lantern reappeared in the opening and Millie’s eye and nose filled the space as the girl studied her. “Of course I believe you. You’ve been like a sister to me all my life. And that bastard Sidlow was a snake who had it comin’ to him.” She made a noise that sounded like spitting. “None of us think you’re a cold-blooded murderer. We’ve all vowed to fight for your freedom.”
Cora smiled through her unshed tears. “I love you all. But now you’re going to have to take care of each other. Don’t worry about me.”
“We’ll get you out. There’s no way they’ll keep you here another day. Not with Kit as sheriff.”
Her chin trembled at the mention of his name. She compressed her lips and turned her face from the telling light. “Obviously, he disagrees, Millie. He put the lock on the cell door himself.”
“We have to convince him you’re innocent. He likes you. Maybe you could offer him a deal. You know he’s a very handsome man.”
Though she tried not to, her memory returned to her last image of Kit’s face as he closed the jail door, h
is new deputies standing behind him. She’d asked him to keep an eye on the club for her, to which he’d responded with a nod. Then his parting glance had raked over her, stopping for a breath as their gazes connected, and hurt had filled his cool blue eyes.
Why would he still want her? He’d sampled free milk from the cow, so to speak, and now she was just as dangerous to his future as he’d been to hers.
“No, Millie. Now you just clear your head of those kinds of notions. We’re not bringing Sheriff Wainwright into this,” she said, making her voice gruff.
The woman sniffed. “We’ll lose the club without you. The invitations to the party went out today. Nobody’ll come now with you in jail. How will we compensate for such a loss? We always make so much money from the social.”
Tarnation. Millie was right. The Willows depended on that party being a success.
“Look, tomorrow ask Jupiter if they’ll allow you to bring the ledger to me. Ask him to do it as a favor to me. Then I’ll help you make the rest of the plans for the party. We’ll get the Willows back on its feet. Maybe better than ever. Trust me.”
The women of Fort McNamara, prostitutes or not, always got the wrong end of the stick, and they would continue to do so until they spoke up for themselves, their safety and livelihoods. The men wanted willing bedmates, but they also wanted to rule over them, to treat them unequally. Some with their strength and fists.
Well, she wasn’t going to let them take her down without a fight.
Cora glanced around the cell again. Perhaps she could figure a way to get out before her trial and hanging. The building had been here since the army had built it years ago, so there might be weaknesses in the structure. A couple draft horses and a pickax might come in handy. Also, not all her friends were as honest and law-abiding as Jupiter.
The town thought her an outlaw? Well, she’d show them a real outlaw.
Chapter Thirteen
Kit walked with Ray Thorntree after they’d shared a drink at the saloon. The mayor glanced at him, ducking his chin apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind my deputizing those men in your absence. It’s just that after both the sheriff and deputy were killed in less than three months, the citizens are getting a little nervous.”
Kit nodded. “The farrier seems a good choice. A good man. I don’t know the other one, but couldn’t be any worse than the last.” A flash of guilt made him murmur, “Rest his soul.”
After placing Cora in the town jail cell, Deputy Buchanan had returned to his other work duties, and Jupiter had gone to keep an eye on the houses of the Row. Now it was time for Kit to part ways with the mayor. He couldn’t shirk his company soon enough. The whiskey they’d shared had been fine, but right now, he wasn’t in the mood for company or talking. Sure, he’d love to throw back a whole bottle of liquor for the rotten day he’d had, but he needed to keep his mind clear to think. There was no time to get drunk, especially after what he’d done earlier.
Cora would hate him now, and he deserved it. Christ, to keep her locked up in such a place. But it was the only way to keep her safe from people who would like to see her hung before she even got her trial. He’d seen mobs in other cities break into jails over much less than Cora’s supposed crimes.
“It’s been a long night, Mayor. Mind if I…?” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Row.
The mayor nodded. “Sure thing. I’d join you at the Willows myself if I didn’t have Mrs. Thorntree waiting for me. Just remember, tomorrow you’ll need to visit the judge and let him know we have Cora.” He patted Kit on the back. “He’ll set the date for her trial early so she won’t have to wait and suffer. You know, it’s sad, because I always liked that gal. Our decisions are never easy, but we’ve got hundreds of people to protect.”
“Right.” He swallowed and found his throat had constricted to the size of a needle’s eye.
The only one he ought to protect at the moment was Cora. She’d only done what she’d had to when the town’s so-called protection had failed her and the ladies of Fort McNamara. The deputy, Sidlow, McGruder, and other men had preyed on women’s vulnerabilities and used them at their leisure. Where had justice been when Andrea was beaten? And when Cora was raped as a young girl?
“Just keep in mind, a bullet in a man’s back is not self-defense,” Ray warned as he put his hat on and then he strolled back down the street, leaving Kit alone.
It was true. Not long ago, he’d seen Hazen’s body. The killing shot had been right between the fellow’s shoulder blades, probably at a distance, shot dead in the alley after leaving his room above the saloon.
When Kit closed his eyes, he recalled that night. Waiting for Cora in her bedroom, he’d prayed she would return safely without causing any harm to herself or anyone else. When she’d arrived later, her hands had held no trace of gunpowder. The only guilt he’d thought he’d read in her expression had been the fear of being discovered as Velvet Grace, and she’d claimed she was only a vigilante who wanted to scare the bastards who’d wronged the townswomen. Yet now everything pointed to her committing cold-blooded murder—the timing, her sneaking out, even the witness, a regular Willows’ customer who’d seen her walking outside the saloon and said he would, “Recognize her purdy hair,” at any hour of night.
Had no one else wanted the deputy dead?
Cora had said Hazen had been an accomplice to Sheriff Sidlow, knowing about his arrangement to collect bribes to protect the establishment. Had he requested too much money, perhaps pressing Cora for more than cash in payment? Kit wouldn’t put it past the sonofabitch, may he rot in hell.
After all they’d shared these past few days, Cora would’ve told him if she’d had to defend herself from Hazen, wouldn’t she?
Yes, but not if she’d shot the man in the back.
That gave him another pause as he strolled down the lighted street, heading for the Willows. There he could fulfill his promise to Cora that he would look out for her employees and perhaps talk to the ladies about the deputy.
If Cora had intended to shoot Hazen, her aim wouldn’t have been true. Certainly not at a distance. She was making progress on the ranch, and with more practice, he was certain she’d make a wonderful marksman someday, but had she been as good a week ago? Hell, no.
He stepped up to the entrance of the Willows and knocked twice. The door opened and Bernadette peeked out. Her wrinkled brow smoothed as she lifted her gaze to his face.
“Sheriff, er…Kit.” Her eyes were red from recent tears.
He held up his palms in a gesture of peace. “Let me in, Bernadette. We need to talk.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then back, worrying her painted lips. “No c-c-customers tonight. M-m-illie’s gone out. We’re shorthanded right now.”
Cora’s friends were just as lost as he was without her.
He removed his hat so she could see his expression better and recognize his sincerity. “Tonight, I’m not a customer. I promised Cora I’d stay here while she’s in jail and keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, Kit,” she suddenly moaned. “She didn’t do it. She would never hurt nobody.” The woman’s eyes glittered in the lamplight and her chin wobbled.
Hell. He didn’t have time to placate this girl. The evidence against Cora was so damning. “That’s another reason why I need to come in and talk with you. I don’t think she did it either.”
She widened the door a little more, her eyes growing bigger. “Really? They found that velvet cloak in her things—”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “Even if she owns the cloak, even if she’s the woman from the wanted posters, that doesn’t mean she’s a murderer.”
“But she surrendered, and you still believe she’s innocent? Why?”
He’d asked himself the same question during the whole ride back to town and even as he’d locked the door to Cora’s cell, feeling as if he’d just signed his name on a
contract with the Devil.
The answer hadn’t come to him, but he’d had speculations. Gut feeling? Experience? Her behavior, poor gun skills, shared secrets and her actions?
No. None of that played any real part in his need to vindicate her.
I love her. The truth whispered and swept through him like a tempest.
The need to protect his heart followed his revelation, but it was too late for that. His chest had been ripped open, exposed and vulnerable. There was no way he’d allow Cora to stay in that tiny little stone cell another minute without doing something on her behalf.
Losing his patience, he growled, “Never mind. If you won’t help me help Cora, I’ll do it alone.”
“Wait!” Bernadette came outside and followed him as he turned his back to her and headed back down the steps. “We’ll help. We’ll do anything. I’ll get the others.”
He swung around, his heart beginning a staccato rhythm, hope renewed. “If we all put our heads together, we might discover who else could’ve shot Hazen.”
“That’s the problem. Everybody hated him.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, frowning. “We couldn’t let him be alone with any of the girls. All of us have had to fight him off at one time or another, especially after the last sheriff died.”
“I’ll talk to each of you, maybe there’s a suspect we’ve not yet discovered. Where’s Millie gone at this hour?”
Her eyes filled with worry again. “Don’t get mad. She’s at the jail with Cora.”
“The jail? In the dark?” The building was no more than four stone walls and a bad roof with no light source. A chain and lock kept criminals from getting out—or, in this case, anyone who might harm Cora from getting in. If someone decided to go after Cora and take justice into their own hands, they’d soon find themselves missing their appendages. “That’s very stupid of her at this time of night. Especially with a murderer on the loose.” And no more Velvet Grace around to protect them.
Bernadette nodded. “I told her so too, but she was worried about Cora. She took her some clothes and things.”