Last Chance

by Jill Marie Landis

  Despite the warm night air, a sudden chill came over Lane when he heard Loretta trying to persuade Rachel to leave the boy behind.

  "Stay with Ty, Rachel. The sheriff will take care of the telegram," Lane said.

  "I'm going with you. For once I agree with Loretta. Martha can look after Ty tonight and he'll be safely away from gossip until I can come get him."

  "Let's go, Cassidy." Wernermeyer took hold of Lane's arm and began to push him toward the door. "If you're comin' with me, Mrs. McKenna, you'd best come on."

  Rachel was torn. She wanted to go up to Ty's room and reassure him herself. She wanted to wash, to comb her hair and make herself presentable. She wanted Lane out of handcuffs. She wanted to be alone with Lane and Ty, back in her neat little house with Delphie dishing up coffee and dessert for them. She wanted life to right itself and everything to be orderly and normal, the way it used to be.

  But the way it used to be wasn't what she wanted either. As she watched Wernermeyer prod Lane through the foyer, she realized she wanted Lane in her life, be it as friend or sometime lover. She would gladly give up the orderliness of her staid lifestyle, with its precious routine. In her heart she knew she would never give up what she had experienced in Lane's arms simply to recover her reputation.

  As she watched the lamplight catch in the midnight sheen of Lane's hair, she remembered how silky it felt beneath her fingertips. She knew again, if only in recollection, the warmth of his skin, the touch of his hands, the heat of his lips.

  And in that instant, she knew she would do anything for him.

  Anything at all.

  They were silent on the trip back to town. Rachel's head was throbbing while her mind was occupied with thoughts of the morrow. She would have to contact Chase and Eva and hope they would rally behind Lane once they knew the truth. There was Ty to collect and the McKennas to avoid. Robert would be buried. The whole town would soon know the details of his death.

  Eventually the long ride in one of the McKennas' borrowed wagons ended. Thankful to be able to ride beside Lane, Rachel was hesitant to leave him once they stood on the deserted street in front of Wernermeyer's office.

  "Go home," Lane told her while Arnie fumbled in his pocket for the key to his office. "Have Delphie take care of that cut on your head and get some sleep. Boyd will have me out of here early tomorrow, and I'll probably be standing at your back door begging for breakfast," he added with a quick, teasing smile and a glance in Wernermeyer's direction.

  "Are you sure you'll be all right?" She couldn't call up enough strength to make light of the situation. "I hate to leave you here."

  Lane nodded. "I've slept in a lot worse places, believe me. This is a palace." Sensing her fear and concern, he shrugged off Wernermeyer's hold and leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, "I love you, Rachel."

  Wernermeyer shuffled uncomfortably for a moment and then took hold of Lane's arm again. "That's all, Cassidy. 'Night, Mrs. McKenna. You get on home."

  There was nothing more she could say or do for Lane but leave him in the sheriff's hands. Without a word of good-bye, Rachel started quickly down Main Street so that she wouldn't have to watch him walk inside and see the door close behind him. All the shops and stores were closed, locked up for the night. As she passed by, the windows reflected her, a ghostlike, shadowy image.

  She could see her own house farther up the street. Delphie had left the porch light on and another light burning in the parlor window.

  For the first time in her life, the thought of returning home to her safe haven gave her no comfort. Ty was not there. Lane was in jail. Tonight, even with the golden light at the windows, she saw the house for what it really was—simply a structure of wood and glass, like any other.

  The butter yellow house would be her prison until Lane walked through the door a free man.

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seated in his cell on the hard, narrow bunk that was little more than a shelf covered with a thin mattress and what had once been a clean blanket, Lane struck a casual pose. He pulled up one knee, draped an arm over it and stared through the bars at Chase and Eva Cassidy, wishing like hell they had never dropped by to visit. Outside the cell room, Arnie Wernermeyer was lurking in his office. Lane suspected the sheriff was probably hunched up with an ear to the door, which provided them little enough privacy as it was.

  "I'm surprised to see you here so soon," he told Chase. "But then again, I guess bad news travels fast,"

  "We're your family, Lane," Eva said. "No matter how long it's been since you've been part of our lives, we're still your family, and we're here to help. Just tell us what to do."

  "Not much anyone can do at this point." He wished he wasn't the cause of the tears welling in her luminous green eyes. She was dressed in the height of fashion in a mint green dress adorned with ruffles and bows and gewgaws he didn't know the names of, and it had obviously been put together by a knowing hand, because the dress fit her to perfection.

  He couldn't help but notice that Chase had not left her side, or the way the two of them stood hand in hand. He wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning with someone he loved intensely, someone who loved him in return. The image of Rachel as he had seen her last came to him.

  "How's Rachel?" He came up off the bunk, restless, feeling the need to move. The close confines of the tiny cell kept him from releasing his pent-up energy.

  Eva said, "She sent Tom Castor out to get us. He's the liveryman here in town—"

  "I know," Lane told her.

  "The poor dear must have been up all night. Tom said she knocked at his door just as dawn broke. His wife made her come in and take a cup of coffee and eat with her and the kids. He said Rachel looked about to drop."

  Chase quickly interrupted. "She's still got one hell of a headache, but she's gone out to the McKennas' to get Ty."

  "That's right," Eva added. "She told Tom she wanted someone to be here when you were freed and left instructions for Delphie to fix a big dinner. Rachel plans to be back by noon so that we can all celebrate together."

  "You had better go on over to the house so you can be there when she gets back. It doesn't look like I'll be going anyplace real soon."

  Chase had been staring around the room, taking in both cells and the one small window at the end of the aisle between them. Lane knew how much his uncle detested small, confining places after spending nine years in Territorial Prison, yet Chase had come to lend his support. After only a few hours in a cell, Lane was wondering how his uncle had kept his sanity. He knew his uncle had met Ramon in prison, and was beginning to understand the depths of the bond between the two men.

  "What makes you think you won't be freed today?" Eva wanted to know. "When the Pinkertons wire the sheriff, you'll be out—"

  "Let him talk, Eva," Chase advised, watching Lane closely.

  Lane crossed the cell and took hold of the bars on the door. "Wernermeyer sent a telegram two hours ago, and there's been no word from the Agency." He was careful to keep his voice low.

  "Surely it will be here anytime now." Eva sounded less sure than she had a moment ago.

  "I didn't really expect them to respond, at least not yet anyway." Lane could see a hint of doubt begin to shadow his uncle's expression.

  "Why is that?" Chase asked.

  Lane took a deep breath and let go of the bars. He paced to the back wall and stared at the uneven brickwork for a moment before he spoke. "I acted without sanction on this one. I told you I've been on suspension because of something that happened in Oklahoma some weeks ago. My supervisor warned me that the Agency couldn't stand behind any action I undertook on my own."

  "You were acting on your own last night when you killed McKenna?" Chase asked.

  Lane shrugged. "It's not as if I walked in and blew the man full of holes just because I suspected that he was the Gentleman Bandit. I had met with him privately a few minutes earlier, and although he never came right out and admitted anything
, he did say he could use my expertise to expand his business interests. He told me I would have a job 'transferring funds' in two days' time.

  "I was going to use the time to get word to Boyd, to arrange to have operatives in place to arrest McKenna while the robbery was in progress."

  Eva frowned as she listened to the details. Chase asked, "How did the gunplay come about?"

  Lane looked down at his hands and then, out of habit, absently reached down to touch the gun he had worn for so long. He felt naked and vulnerable without it. "When I first got to the McKenna ranch, before I was able to talk to Robert alone, I saw Rachel in his arms."

  "Oh, my!" Eva gasped. "I can't imagine. I'm sure there's an explanation…"

  "There is. She was trying to convince him that I had carried her off by force. He suspected she was hiding something. At that point, she knew that he was a suspect and she wanted to help me get to the truth, but I saw red when I saw him kiss her. After I spoke to him alone and we set up the meeting, I pretended to leave, but I was worried about Rachel, so I doubled back.

  "Through the open windows I heard everything he said to her. He tried to get her to tell him what she knew about me. She tried to get away from him, but he knocked her to the floor…"

  "Poor Rachel," Eva cried out. "No wonder you were furious."

  "Things avalanched from there," Lane went on. "Robert grabbed Rachel, the old man ran in waving a rifle, Robert drew a gun and shoved Rachel aside. I shot him in the shoulder and he went down. The old man fired at me and missed and then Robert was able to get off another shot, which nearly killed Rachel. I didn't have time to do anything but react. I grabbed her and started shooting. Robert McKenna wound up dead."

  "In a situation like that, someone usually does," Chase put in. "You think the Pinkertons will leave you here to rot?"

  "Stuart McKenna isn't going to be content to leave me alive that long, I'm afraid."

  Chase shoved his hand through his hair and sighed. Eva was watching her husband intently, as if she expected him to come up with a miracle. Lane knew that his uncle would do anything not to disappoint his lovely wife, but in this case, there was nothing anyone could do.

  "You say you killed him without Pinkerton backing, and on top of that you have no proof of Robert's guilt whatsoever?"

  "Nothing more solid than the things he told me, and that was a private conversation. Nobody's going to take my word for it."

  "Do you think he still has the money from the last robbery hidden someplace?"

  Eva turned to Chase and said, "If you think you're going to search the McKenna ranch for stolen money—"

  "Simmer down, Eva. I'm just thinking of every possibility."

  Lane shook his head. "The robbery happened just two days before he arrived in town. I'm not sure what he did with the money, or the disguise he most likely wore, for that matter. They could be someplace on the McKenna ranch, but there's no way Stuart McKenna will allow a search."

  Chase fell silent. His intent dark eyes never left Lane's. Lane knew his uncle was weighing what he'd just told him.

  "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me," Lane said.

  "I believe you," Chase said softly and without hesitation. "Only you could get yourself into such a mess and make it look so damned easy."

  "I know it all sounds pretty bad," Lane offered.

  "It is bad," Chase said. "Wait until McKenna finds out the Pinkertons haven't come to your rescue. With his money and power there's no telling what he'll do."

  "He'll see me hang," Lane said, verifying aloud what they were all thinking.

  "I have money," Eva reminded them.

  Both men ignored her. Knowing his uncle would understand completely, Lane asked Chase a favor. "Keep Rachel away from here, all right?"

  "I'll try."

  At that point Eva grabbed the bars and shook them to get their attention. "Listen to me," she said, glancing toward the outer door as she lowered her voice. "You two sound as if you've already given up. Well, I haven't. I wasn't one of the Entertaining, Energetic Eberharts for nothing."

  "Eva…" Chase warned.

  "Don't 'Eva' me. Lane's in trouble here. Big trouble. I think what we need is an escape plan. I could start singing… or better yet, I could pretend I've been taken with a deathly attack of some sort and while the sheriff is trying to help me, Chase can get the keys and—"

  Chase put his arm around Eva and pulled her away from Lane's cell while she was still talking. "I'd better get her out of here before we all end up behind bars."

  Lane watched as his uncle grabbed the door handle and pulled. "Uncle Chase?" he said as Eva disappeared out the door.

  Lane grabbed the bars of the cell again and wished away all the years he had carried hatred for the man standing before him.

  "Uncle Chase?"

  "Yeah?" Chase stood poised to exit. Behind him, morning sunlight spilled into the dank cell area from the other room.

  "Stay with Rachel, will you? She'll need somebody."

  Rachel brought the runabout buggy she had rented from Tom Castor to a halt in front of the McKenna house, shoved the whip into the whip socket and waited for one of the stable hands to appear. She could tell by the gathering of phaetons, wagons and buggies that the McKennas' friends had gathered to mourn Robert.

  A young wrangler who couldn't have been much over fourteen came running up to the side of her rig to help her down. Rachel held out a leather-gloved hand to him, pulled aside her skirt and carefully hit the step and then the ground. He smiled at her as he moved around to take the horse by the bit and lead it around to the stable yard near the carriage house.

  She smiled back, and was tempted to reach up and make certain her hat was in place, but she figured that the appreciative glance the young wrangler gave her meant that it was. She had taken great pains with her ensemble this morning, unwilling to give anyone leave to talk about her appearance.

  With long, determined strides, she took the path that crossed the front lawn and walked up the wide staircase to the veranda. There she paused before the door, then rapped sharply. Almost immediately, the door opened.

  Martha, dressed in her usual black uniform with its starched white apron and cap, pulled the door wide to allow her entrance.

  "Hello, ma'am," she whispered, trying to avoid Rachel's gaze. Her eyes appeared red-rimmed from crying.

  Rachel couldn't help but ask, "Is anything wrong, Martha?"

  Of course there is, you ninny, she reminded herself. Robert is dead. But when Martha merely shook her head with a frightened look, a sharp warning pang hit Rachel.

  Voices from the parlor drifted down the hall. Rachel glanced at the staircase to her right and told Martha, "There's no need to bother Loretta. I'll just go up and get Ty—"

  "If you don't m-mind, please wait here, ma'am," Martha stammered. Before Rachel could respond, she hurried off like a scared rabbit.

  Rachel stripped off one of her gloves and was unbuttoning the second when Loretta appeared in the hallway. She had on one of her finest gowns—black, of course, but this one satin. The fabric whispered an ominous hush with every step. Her hair was perfectly styled, her jewelry tasteful as always. She wore shoes of matching ebony satin. Keeping up appearances was always foremost on Loretta's mind.

  Loretta marched slowly and purposefully toward Rachel, glancing neither right nor left. Her head was high, her spine as straight as if she were going into full battle charge.

  Rachel braced herself, convinced she could take any salvo Loretta fired.

  "My grandson will be staying indefinitely."

  Any salvo but this one.

  "What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me you won't let me take Ty home?"

  "Exactly."

  Suddenly Martha's red-rimmed eyes and anguish at the sight of her were explained.

  "I'm here to tell you differently, Loretta. Now step out of the way. I'm going to get my son."

  Loretta remained unmoved. Absolutely no emotion marred the
cool, determined look on her face. She did not so much as blink when she said, "Take one step farther inside my house and I'll have you shot."

  Rachel trembled with outrage. She took a deep breath to steady herself, unwilling to show her fear before this hateful woman. "You have no right—"

  "I have every right. Your reputation is ruined. The man you have been fornicating with is in jail for killing my son. Do you think I would ever turn Tyson over to you if I thought he would be anywhere near that cold-blooded murderer?"

  "I'm sorry, Loretta, but you can't keep Ty from me. Have you forgotten I'm his mother? You have no legal right."

  "I can and I will keep him from you. Stuart is on his way to Helena right now to consult with his attorney. We are going to win legal guardianship of the boy. You should have thought about the fact that you were his mother before you took up with Lane Cassidy."

  The icy determination in Loretta's eyes was all Rachel saw. Bile rose up to nearly choke her. She shoved Loretta aside and ran for the stairs. Gathering the hem of her skirt in her hand, she started up two at a time.

  Rachel had almost reached the second floor when she glanced up and saw one of the McKenna cowhands standing at the top of the stairs with a rifle cradled in his arms. Mixed emotions crossed his face, and although his eyes mirrored sympathy, his overall expression warned her that he was being paid to stop her in her tracks.

  She spun around. Loretta was waiting at the bottom of the staircase with a smug expression on her tight lips.

  "You would really shoot me?" Rachel said, incredulous.

  "Certainly not." Loretta nodded at the cowhand. "But he would."

  Shaken, Rachel hesitated for a moment, wanting to call out to Ty but afraid the ensuing scene would upset him terribly. She didn't want her son to know that his grandparents were holding him prisoner, but she did want him to know she had been there and that she had not abandoned him after last night's tragedy. She looked down the hall toward his room, but held back for his sake. She would go back to town and get Arnie Wernermeyer and Lane, who was certainly free by now, and come back with reinforcements.