by Sandra Jones
Kit fell silent for a moment, apparently unable to answer the question either. “If no one knows for sure who shot Hazen, we might not get enough proof to get you out. It’s not looking good for you. But if we both leave town tonight, no one would know until daylight—”
“No, Kit. Then they’ll be after you too. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re no outlaw.”
“I’m no sheriff either.” He lifted her hand for a kiss.
Her skin tingled pleasantly from the contact. She covered his hand in both of hers, melting inside, yet breaking in two. “You’re a good man. Don’t you ever doubt it.”
An owl hooted outside. She had to get Kit out of here. Her accomplices could arrive at any moment. That’s all she needed—for Kit to get caught in the middle of her plans for escape.
She touched his cheek and brought her mouth to his for another long kiss. Against his lips, she whispered, “Please stay safe. I can’t worry about you.”
He ran his hand up her back, drawing her closer against him as he caressed her shoulder blades reassuringly. “I have been. I’ve checked on the Willows. Millie is doing a good job handling the party plans. Bernadette has been working the door, collecting money for tokens. But they miss you.” He kissed her forehead. “I miss you.”
“Kit, you need to leave here before someone finds us together. It won’t look good for you to be seen with me. You probably need to stay away from the Willows as much as possible too, for now.”
He sighed. “I swear to you, I’m gonna get you out, and a Wainwright never breaks a promise.”
A rock skittered outside the cell, making them both jump.
Kit whirled toward the sound, his hand on his gun. She grabbed his elbow, but he pulled loose from her, heading toward the door.
“Wait!” Her throat clogged with panic. The men she’d engaged were desperadoes, capable of anything. “Don’t go out there!”
Kit threw a sharp glance at her over his shoulder and then returned to the door to cautiously peer around the corner. “Show yourself!”
The sound of fleeing boots followed, and her stomach dipped with a mixture of disappointment and relief.
Kit went outside and then came back in. Agitation rolled off him. “Something tells me you know who those men were.”
She winced at the incensed tone of his voice. “I didn’t see them.”
“There were two men. One was hopping on one foot. Does that ring a bell with you?” He stalked toward her.
She mimicked his stance with her fists on her waist. “I had to do something.”
“You coulda asked me.” His voice lowered an octave, deceptively calm, though she recognized the hurt and anger beneath it. “I would take you out of here right this instant. Who’s around to stop us? Hell, we could even board that packet that just docked down at the wharf today and be on the Mississippi River in less than a week, headed for New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico.”
Shock rolled over her. Gracious, he’d really thought of that? She felt a bubble of excitement despite herself. He actually wanted to be with her enough to consider such a scheme?
But it couldn’t happen. She couldn’t make an outlaw out of him too. Fort McNamara needed him. Her friends needed him too.
She had to make him see it would never work. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want you to come with me. Those men were already criminals. You’re not capable of the things they are.”
The room fell deathly quiet, as he seemed to stew on her words.
“I told you before, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” he replied coolly.
She braced herself, expecting him to curse at her for making plans to escape, but instead, he startled her even more by closing the distance between them. He tangled his hands in her hair, and his mouth was on hers again in an angry kiss, a desperate one, full of heat and passion too long suppressed. She slanted her lips against his and opened, accepting his deep, scorching kiss, their tongues mating, bodies pressed together. He cradled her, cupping her against him as if she possessed a life source he required to survive.
She returned his embrace with all her heart, committing the taste of him to memory, the feel of his strength, his hardness, his breath and scent. Sensations she would remember until the day they put her in a grave.
Being with him again awoke her hunger, and she needed to put an end to it. Stroking the back of his neck, she broke the kiss. “You have to forget about me.” Tears burned in her eyes. “Please be careful, Kit.”
He moved back, shuffling a bit in the darkness, and then he closed his hands over hers. When she opened her palms, she felt the cold weight of a gun in her hands. Her pistol.
“Hide it,” he cautioned, his voice gone rough. “Let no one see you have it, but don’t be afraid to use it if you have to. I’ll be back.”
She nodded as he turned and left, sniffing back a tear.
Kit walked backward, keeping his eye on the stark little building as he headed for a place to sit and keep watch until his next deputy arrived to take over.
That shabby little concrete hellhole contained his future, his heart. And his lady’s words made him want to rip the door off its hinges and carry her away with him like some kind of frenzied warrior.
Should’ve told her I love her.
No. Better to wait until he proved his worth by freeing her from that place.
His uncle was wrong. So was Judge Murtagh. He didn’t need a respectable woman. He needed the woman who’d make him far happier than his aunt had ever made Uncle Bart. Cora was the only woman who’d encouraged him, a lady kind enough, brave enough, and surely the other half of his soul that he’d been missing all his life.
Now if he could just exonerate her before she did something else as crazy as hiring those two idiots he’d seen hightailing into the alley.
He’d have to increase his numbers watching her at night and make sure she was well guarded.
Sinking onto the bench, he dropped his hat beside him and chuckled. She’d nearly done it. That old lock on the cell was good protection against one man, but no match for two, and Buchanan was too self-absorbed to notice her plan. He thought about their conversation earlier.
So Ray Thorntree might be in love with Millie?
In his experience, men with power often became poisoned by it. Perhaps Ray felt Cora threatened his marriage. Or perhaps the deputy had blackmailed the mayor. God knows why a man might shoot another in the back. But maybe Kit was barking up the wrong tree altogether and Ray wasn’t involved.
Still, it seemed mighty odd that the mayor had sent Buchanan after Cora and not made any mention of the mysterious man who’d been spotted leaving the alley.
Someone definitely wanted Cora caught and hung for the deputy’s death. Question was, could he discover the real killer in time to save her?
Cora had once told him Mayor Thorntree loosened up after a few drinks, and now that Kit thought about it, he remembered seeing that himself. Even if the mayor wasn’t the killer he sought, perhaps he could help convince the judge to release Cora.
Chapter Fifteen
Kit felt more at home in a saloon among the other gamblers, swindlers, cardsharps and gunslingers of the river than anywhere else. That’s why when Ben came to town with news from the ranch, he invited the grizzled old sot along for a drink and a game of cards with the mayor. If Thorntree felt relaxed enough in their company, he might say something that could lead to the truth behind Deputy Hazen’s murder.
Yet soon after the card game began, Kit wondered if bringing Ben had been a mistake. The ranch hand and former soldier had polished off his first liquor bottle before the second hand was dealt. He’d told Kit about the message that had arrived at the ranch in his absence. The Wainwright family solicitor in St. Louis had arranged for the purchase of the ranch’s first cattle from Texas. And a rider had come to notify that the anima
ls were on their way. The messenger had also spoken of some other arrangements in St. Louis, but Kit couldn’t recollect exactly what that was about. Probably more of his uncle’s possessions had been sold or something trivial like that. So much had happened since St. Louis and Uncle Bart’s death that the details seemed a distant blur.
The mayor dragged the whiskey bottle across the table and, finding it empty, waved to the bartender for another. He’d had less to drink than Ben, but his smiles were growing easier, his posture more lax.
Kit slapped him on the back. “When are you gonna come visit the Row with me, Mayor?”
Thorntree chuckled. “You seem to take a lot of interest in those ladies, Sheriff. Take care. Mustn’t let the town see where your cock leads you.”
It was Ben’s turn to shuffle. He attempted a flourish, but his gnarled hands sent the cards scattering across the tabletop. “Oh, lan’s sake,” he grumbled.
Kit grinned and kept the conversation going as he helped Ben collect the strewn deck. “Come on. You have to admit there are some lovely ladies down in those old houses. The Willows especially.”
“I’m a married man.” Thorntree drained his glass, his eyes trained on the bartender.
Kit kept the conversation going, “Well, I’ve never been lucky enough to find a woman who would keep me, but if I did, I’d want a lady as vivacious as—”
The mayor stopped him with a lifted palm. “It’s not polite to speak of the bordellos in public.” He shifted nervously in his seat, bristling with indignation.
Too soon. He needed more whiskey. Where was that bartender?
“Yes, indeed.” Ben grinned sheepishly. “Back when the army was still here, before Cora Reilly owned the Willows, a lot of us soldiers used to go there. Had ourselves a good time, we did. Parties, drinking, music. ’Course, nobody talked about it afterward for fear we’d get in trouble or they would close the place down.”
Kit regarded the old man. Though it was difficult to imagine, he supposed Ben had been much like him twenty years or more ago. “Never had a wife of your own, old timer?”
Ben’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he dealt the cards. “No. Back in my army days, visiting that hen house every so often was enough for me. I quit going after…well, never mind.”
“After what?” Kit knew the military had pulled out of Fort McNamara at least twenty years ago.
Ben belched and then lowered his voice, “After the Murtagh girl was born. I don’t think any of us went back after that.”
Murtagh? As in Judge Murtagh? The question formed on his tongue, but catching the mayor’s steady warning gaze, he let it drop.
Ben put the rest of the deck in the middle of the table. “Yep. Sad thing about bordellos in those days. All the babies.”
After two more hands of cards and another bottle, Ben was finished and Thorntree was too. The old man was drunk and needed their help to get to the hotel. Kit wanted to kick himself for enabling Ben to repeat the bad habit, and he vowed it would never happen again. The man was too valuable to him and the ranch, but more importantly, he’d become a friend. If helping Ben stay sober meant giving up the bottle himself, so be it. Kit would avoid the saloon.
Once they had the ranch hand safely in his hotel room for the night. Kit was alone with the mayor again. They strolled across the road from the cell where Cora was still being held, and he felt the tug at his heart, wanting to see her, speak with her again.
Later.
His anxious gaze found Jupiter and another armed volunteer standing guard in a darkened corner. They exchanged a nod.
Thorntree shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where are you staying, Wainwright? Or wait…don’t tell me.” He shook his head and grumbled, “Still the Willows?”
Kit didn’t answer, but he couldn’t let this moment pass without one more attempt to get to the answers he needed. “Ben said there was a Murtagh born in the bordello. Did he mean…” Kit recalled Irish judge’s now snowy white hair. Millie was a redhead. “Millicent?”
Ray’s step faltered before he recovered. “I think it best if we don’t speak of it either. That sort of thing can hurt a man’s career.”
Without another word, the mayor turned and strolled back the way they’d come, leaving Kit alone to walk the rest of the way.
Could Millie be the judge’s bastard daughter? Did the judge know? Did Millie?
A more chilling thing to ponder, had Sidlow and his deputy known? Perhaps that was why they were dead now. Cora had said Sidlow mentioned knowing a secret that would make the bordello rich.
Damnation, if his uncle had been such good friends with Judge Murtagh, he would’ve known about the baby too. Both of them had probably even gone to the whorehouse together. Hypocrites. How could they have sowed their oats back then and now condemn others for it, including Kit?
So Murtagh could have fathered a child at the Willows? If that were true, Kit knew how he might ferret out the truth.
The next day, feeling more anxious than a virgin on her wedding night, Cora chewed a fingernail as she waited by the jail’s window while dusk fell. Somewhere far down the street, Kit and Jupiter lingered near the livery, too distant for her to see.
Kit’s plan seemed a good one. She prayed it would work. Her life depended on it.
The Willows appeared to be thriving without her thanks to Millie’s quick thinking. She and Kit had created an outlaw theme for the social. Andrea had fashioned masks made of velvet for the party guests that night. Customers would receive the masks when they arrived, thus taking advantage of Cora’s reputation as Velvet Grace, the gun-wielding madam.
Millie had reported that nearly all the recipients of the invitations had accepted and even some of their wives.
Her friend had seemed so relieved things were going well with the club that Cora hadn’t been able to break the news to her. Millie had no idea who her father was, so Cora felt she could wait a little longer. Cora knew Judge Murtagh by reputation, and the whole town had mixed feelings about the man’s ideas of justice with all his hangings. If he’d known Millie was his daughter, he’d never bothered to claim her. Millie would need some time to accept her parent’s complete abandonment of her regardless of who he was.
And then there was the chance that someone had killed the deputy to keep Millie’s paternity a secret.
At Kit’s request, Cora had written an anonymous letter to the judge, asking him to meet at the mercantile and bring two thousand dollars. If Murtagh was the killer, and even if he wasn’t, hopefully he would show up to find out who’d written the letter. And if he did, Kit and Jupiter would be waiting for him. Meanwhile, the club and its party were under the protection of Kit’s men.
Presently, a shadowy figure walked up the deserted street toward the livery. Cora’s heart lodged in her throat. If only Kit would let her out.
She held her pistol and rubbed her thumb over the smooth mother-of-pearl handle, preparing herself. If things went badly and Kit needed her help, she would be ready.
Suddenly, the rusty chain jingled on her cell door and the lock fell away with a soft jangle, making her jump. She glanced back at the two figures in the street. They were still there, not seeming to have noticed the sound she’d heard.
Wielding her gun, she crept closer to the cell door as it opened.
“Cora?”
“Ray?” She lowered her weapon as the mayor poked his head inside.
“Are you all right? I’ve felt so bad about having you in here these past few days.” He came inside, hands outstretched as if to embrace her.
She hid the gun behind her back, remembering Kit and the trouble he’d be in if the mayor knew he’d armed her. “I’m as fine as a lady can be. Though an outhouse would be nice.” The chamber pot in the corner was a constant source of discomfort.
He shook his head sadly. “I’m so sorry. I’ve often thought about your
circumstances.”
“You have? But you had me arrested.” Something in his demeanor raised the hair on her arms. And…was that the glimmer of his teeth in a smile?
He stalked closer. She curled a finger over the trigger of her gun.
“I think it best if you stayed behind bars. Better for the sheriff, better for the Willows, better for Millie—” His voice broke on her friend’s name.
“Better for you, Ray?” she finished.
He nodded. “I love that lady, Cora. I’d leave my Estelle for her, but it wouldn’t make any damn difference, because you don’t allow Millie to see anyone.” His voice grew raspy, and he was close enough she felt his breath stir her hair. He circled her slowly, so she had to turn to keep the gun hidden. “She told me she loves me, wants to be with me like that, but she can’t because of you. Says she wouldn’t want to disappoint you. If she had her way of things, the two of us could be together.”
Millie had never told her about any of this, but the lady was very private. “Really, Ray. If you both want each other so bad, I won’t stop you.”
“You’re the only family she’s got. She’d do anything for you.” He shot out a hand, grabbing her arm like a steel trap. “I’d do anything for her.”
His hold kept her from lifting the gun. She traded hands, bringing the gun between them in her left. She heard his sharp intake of breath, registering his surprise.
“Ray, don’t make me use this.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Cora. I just…I can’t.” He reached for her hand holding the gun, but she pushed back.
When he stumbled, she sprang for the open door and ran outside. But he was right behind her. He grabbed her elbow, spinning her around.
“You killed the deputy,” she shouted, struggling against his grip while he tried to pry the weapon from her fingers.