Comanche Eagle

by Sara Orwig

  “I sent Deputy Larson to get us some coffee, Crystal. And Virgil offered me all his faro winnings if I’d let him go this morning so he wouldn’t have to appear in court.”

  She shrugged. “I told you—the man doesn’t like me.”

  “Yep, I suppose. I didn’t take the money,” the sheriff said with a chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on Virgil in the courtroom. He’s in a sour mood.”

  “I may be, too.”

  Sheriff Hinckel grinned and went striding down the hall. She turned to look out the window. Instinct told her that Brett Black Eagle was the drifter wanted for murder. She felt torn between hoping for Travis’s sake that Brett got away and thinking Brett should pay the price for his deed. She remembered his cocky, charming smile and wondered how many times he had used that smile to smooth things over and get himself out of trouble.

  And then, unaccountably, she wondered about her husband’s past. Had Travis come to the Territory because he had something to hide? Then Deputy Larson came through the door with coffee for her, and she forgot about the matter.

  Travis led a customer to a pen with five horses. “Take your pick. They’re all good mounts,” Travis said, eyeing the horses and knowing which he would choose.

  The man pushed his hat to the back of his head and moved closer, touching first one horse and then another, looking at the sorrel’s teeth. Travis waited patiently as the horses moved around. Behind him Jacob sat playing in the dust, piling dirt on his short legs. Travis knew Crystal would have scooped him up instantly, but Travis saw no harm in Jacob getting a little dirt on himself. He thought about Crystal and his insides knotted. When she’d stepped outside this morning, she had looked beautiful … fresh and full of energy. Tall, slender, regal-looking, she had walked to the wagon, and he had wanted to meet her and wrap his arms around her and kiss her.

  Instead, he had had to stand and watch her, the chasm between them growing wider as more time passed and they could not make amends. Beneath his anger, he hurt. He knew it might be stubbornness, but no more than hers. Where the law was concerned, Crystal wouldn’t yield an inch. The pain was steady and so damn hurtful that he knew for sure he was in love with his wife.

  What he had sworn he would never do again, he had done: He had fallen in love with his wife. He loved Crystal; he needed her in too many ways. With the horses milling around him and Jacob jabbering, Travis closed his eyes and could see and hear only Crystal. He remembered her in his arms, her green eyes dark with love and desire.

  He stiffened and opened his eyes, looking at the pen of horses and trying to get his mind on his work. Instead, it slid right back to Crystal. He was in love with her. He loved her desperately, as much as he could love a woman.

  He had never intended for it to happen, had fought against it. But now there was no going back to the way he had felt before. He wanted to shake her for her stubborn views on law and right and wrong. He believed Brett. Besides, his brother would have admitted the truth to him, no matter how damning. He might lie in court, but he would not lie to his brother. And Travis would bet his life on that.

  Travis glanced at Jacob, whose dark skin branded him Indian. His midnight hair did as well, but it was thick with curls and showed less of his Comanche heritage. There was no denying the color of his skin. Travis hoped people would become more accepting as Jacob grew older. Crystal had already opened doors for them that had been shut to Travis.

  While he ached for her, he felt assured that she would not turn her anger on Jacob. She was as loving as ever to his son, as if there were nothing else happening in their lives that was tearing them apart.

  He turned his head, looking down the street toward the courthouse, imagining her there in her black robe, sternly meting out her sense of justice. He wanted her in his arms and he wanted to tell her he loved her. But he didn’t want her to turn his brother in to the law. Damnation.

  “I’ll take the sorrel,” the stranger said to Travis, who shook on the sale, his mind still on his fiery-haired wife who was the judge.

  Crystal sentenced Virgil to two days in jail, banged her gavel, and dismissed court. She was relieved to escape the courtroom. Always before, she had found satisfaction in her work, but this morning she could not. Her mind kept going to Travis and his glacial dark eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw and the disagreement between them. How could the man be so stubborn?

  She rubbed her forehead and stepped into her tiny office, where she removed her robe. She straightened her hair and black dress and felt suffocated by the walls, so she went outside. In sunshine she stood and looked down the street. She couldn’t see Travis’s livery stable, but she knew it was there. He was there. She could imagine him working. He was probably so busy, he gave no thought to her. Or if he did give her a thought, it was an angry one.

  Still seething over Travis, she didn’t feel like eating. She wanted to close up and go home. Instead, she had a docket for the afternoon. Before she returned to her courtroom, she stopped at Sheriff Hinckel’s office.

  “I fined Virgil for contempt of court this morning. He threatened me and I don’t think he’ll ever do anything, but he was angry.”

  “I’ll talk to him. It’s time Virgil moved on to another town. He’s given us enough grief. He’s smart enough to avoid causing anyone too much trouble who might pull out a gun and get rid of him. Right now, he’s back there snoring away.”

  A gun blasted. As she looked into Sheriff Hinckel’s blue eyes, she saw the surprise that she felt. He raced past her, pistol at the ready. She hurried after him into the hot sun. She blinked, feeling the warmth splash over her. A crowd had gathered and she looked to see what was causing the commotion. Her heart stopped and then thudded back to life.

  Twenty

  Two men rode toward the courthouse. One wore a badge and led a horse. His face was covered in cuts and bruises and his shirt was bloody; one hand has wrapped in a bandage and a kerchief was tied around his head.

  The man on the second horse had his hands tied behind his back. His face was a bloody mess, black hair hanging over half of his face. His shirt was torn and blood-soaked, his side a deep crimson. She looked at the unrecognizable bloody features, looked at the long black hair, his broad shoulders and his blood-soaked side and knew she was looking at Brett Black Eagle.

  A crowd was gathering on both sides of the riders. Men shook their fists and tossed rocks at Brett.

  “Hang him!”

  “Killer!”

  She saw Slim Tipton yelling with Gomer Tarkington beside him.

  Chilled, she dashed down the street. She was two blocks from the courthouse before she remembered she was supposed to be in court. Glancing around, she saw ten-year-old Theo Garrison, his blond hair like a stack of straw on top of his head.

  “Theo! Come here. I want you to get down to the livery stable and tell Travis Black Eagle that Brett has been caught and is in jail. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. I’ll leave a silver dollar for you on my desk.”

  “A dollar! Yes, ma’am!”

  “You run all the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  She watched him race down the street and she wanted to go, too. In spite of her feelings about Brett, she hurt for Travis. And she worried about what he would do when he saw his brother. Brett was soaked with blood and had to be in bad shape. He looked as if he had been beaten badly.

  She rushed back to the courthouse, pausing at Sheriff Hinckel’s door. He stood behind his desk, deputies around him, but immediately came to her side.

  “Excuse me, a minute, men,” he said, taking her arm and leading her down the hall away from the crowd. “Did you see the prisoner that was just brought in?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s Brett Dancer. He was—”

  “Dancer?”

  “Yes, why?” His eyes narrowed. “You sound surprised. Do you know this man?”

  She debated, but there was only one answer. “Yes, I think I do. I
t was hard to tell because he was so bloody.”

  “Has he been in our jail and your courtroom before? I don’t remember him.”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  His eyes narrowed again. “How do you know him?”

  “I think he’s my brother-in-law,” she said stiffly, exactly as Travis had predicted.

  Hinckel’s brows shot up. “Dancer is really Brett Black Eagle?”

  “I think so. I told you, it’s difficult to tell.”

  “I guess he gave a false name to protect Travis. Come here and look at him, Judge.”

  She didn’t want to confront Brett; and although she expected Travis to appear at any moment, she could not imagine what he would do.

  “Sheriff, I’m supposed to be in court.”

  “It can’t start without you.”

  “What’s he done?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  “He’s killed Abner Kendrick.”

  “No!” She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath as her head swam. Her worst fears were coming true.

  “Sorry, Crystal. Feeling is running high. I’m swearing in more deputies in case some of Kendrick’s men try to lynch our prisoner without a trial.”

  “You mustn’t let that happen!” Crystal cried. More than anything she detested the lawlessness of men taking justice into their own hands. A lynching was the total absence of justice. And Travis would fight them to the death. Her hands were ice as she locked her fingers together and stared at the sheriff.

  “If it turns out he is Travis’s brother, both of you’d better let him go by the name Dancer and not claim him. I know Travis probably won’t turn his back on his own brother, but when there’s a killing, tempers get hot. According to Whit Odell, this Dancer was passing through, got a job with Kendrick, then robbed and killed him.”

  “Travis will stand by his brother,” she said woodenly. “He would defend Brett with his last breath.”

  “I’ll go tell Travis.”

  “He should know already. I sent Theo Garrison to tell him.”

  “I hope Travis doesn’t try anything foolish. I don’t know what kind of feelings he has for his brother—I didn’t even know the man had a brother—but if they’re close, Travis had better not try to get him out of jail and away from here.”

  “He won’t,” she said firmly, but she had no idea what Travis would or would not do. She was terrified he might try to free his brother and get killed in the attempt. But if he did that, he would have to run, too. She thought of Jacob. Whatever happened, she knew Travis would think of Jacob. But what he thought was best for Jacob might not be what she thought was best.

  “See if you recognize him, Crystal.”

  She hated to go with Wade and stared at him, wanting to rush back to her courtroom and avoid identifying the man. “You’re sure his name is Dancer?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  She heard someone swear and then she recognized a deep voice.

  “Wade!” Travis bellowed.

  “Your husband’s here,” the sheriff said under his breath. “You don’t need to identify the prisoner for me. Travis is going to.”

  The sheriff moved away from her and she turned to see Travis standing at the other end of the hallway. He was wearing his revolver and he stood with his feet spread apart, his fists clenched, and he looked ready to fight. Her heart thudded as his gaze stabbed her. He looked as if he thought she had turned Brett in.

  She raised her chin. She regretted that his brother was a prisoner, but it was Brett’s own doing. And if he’d committed the crime, murder was a horrendous deed that had to be punished. But in spite of her defiant look at Travis, she was terrified what he might do and what might happen to him.

  She remembered how he had crossed the room without pause when she’d held a revolver aimed right at him. At that close range even a complete novice could not have missed, and yet Travis had never hesitated or blinked. And he had asked her if she ever feared anything! Yet if he had been that fearless with a pistol aimed at him when all he wanted to do was propose marriage, to what length would he risk himself now to save his brother?

  Her guess terrified her, and she wondered whether she would soon be a widow and Jacob fatherless.

  “I was told you have my brother in jail.” His voice was icy, making Wade draw a swift breath and blink in surprise.

  “We have a man who says he’s Brett Dancer.”

  There wasn’t a change of expression in Travis’s features. He merely nodded. “He’s my brother. Why is he in jail?”

  “For killing Abner Kendrick.”

  “Did he admit to that?”

  “No. Whit Odell said he did it.”

  “Can I see him?”

  Hinckel nodded and motioned to him. “Come with me.”

  Crystal wanted to talk to Travis. More than that, she wanted to see that he didn’t pull his revolver right now and try to set his brother free. The moment Sheriff Hinckel had said the name Brett Dancer he had known it was his brother.

  Even though her courtroom was waiting for her, she had to see Travis when he came back from talking to Brett. She waited, and listened.

  She heard Travis yelling and Wade Hinckel yelling back; Travis was in a rage over Brett’s condition. At the force of the swearing and shouting, she speculated that Travis himself might soon be behind bars.

  She ran through the sheriff’s office, past startled deputies.

  “Ma’am. Your Honor,” Deputy Thomas said, trying to block her path, but she pushed past him and ignored him, racing to the jail in the back. She stepped inside the hall and saw Wade Hinckel unlocking a door and her heart thudded. She expected Travis to pull his revolver and take Brett. Instead, Travis stepped inside where Brett was sprawled facedown on the floor.

  “Deputy!” Hinckel yelled, glancing around to see her. Geoffrey McDougal appeared behind her.

  “Sir?”

  “Get water and bandages and something for these wounds. This man has lost lots of blood.”

  “Sir—”

  “Deputy!” Wade roared, drowning out the starting of an argument. She could imagine his deputy wondering why they should patch up a man who was likely to be lynched before dawn.

  “I’ll help.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be in court.”

  “You said it can’t start without me.”

  “Go on, Crystal,” Travis said in a cold, harsh voice as if he were talking to a stranger he didn’t want around. She looked into his glacial dark eyes and felt his fury and she left hastily.

  The afternoon was a blur as she heard one case after another. There was no more commotion from the direction of the jail. When she finished the docket, she rushed to her office to shed her robe and then tore down to the sheriff’s office.

  He was seated behind his desk, writing on papers spread beneath his hand. Deputies still stood beside him, but it was a different group of men. Two stood at the front window, and she wondered what they were watching.

  “How’s your prisoner?” she asked, stepping inside.

  “He’s not in good shape. Travis has sent for Turtle River to let that Injun doctor on him. He’s already had the new doc out.”

  “We have a new doctor?”

  “Yep. Just in time for all these shenanigans. Name is Sam Mason. He came by and worked on Dancer. Doc said if Dancer gets through the night, he’ll survive. I don’t know about that. Besides his condition, Parnell said he thought sure we’d have a Kendrick hangin’ bunch come get Dancer. They can try, but they’re not going to do it while I’m sheriff.”

  “I hope not!” she said fervently.

  “Your Honor, you know you’re the only law in this part of the Territory right now and we can’t wait for a new district judge. You’ll try the case.”

  Stunned, Crystal stared at him. “I’ve never tried murder, and the man is my brother-in-law.”

  “Well, now you’re going to try it,” Hinckel said, giving her a squinty-eyed look and getting a stu
bborn note in his voice. “I can’t keep this man here weeks without a trial. He’ll be dead without any due process. He’s gonna hang, anyway, but we’re going to do it right. I don’t want a lynching on my record. The governor has already told me he doesn’t want it on his, and it would ruin you as a justice of the peace.”

  She stared at him in consternation. He was right, but she didn’t want to judge Brett.

  “Don’t up and resign on me,” Hinckel said, studying her. “I don’t see you as a coward, so I don’t think you will.”

  “I don’t know that much about a murder.”

  “You have your law books. Did your father or grandpa defend accused murderers?”

  “Yes,” she said, barely able to get out the words. If she tried and sentenced Brett to die, her marriage would be over. She would be sentencing Jacob’s uncle to death. And if she let Brett go, she would not be able to live with herself.

  “I just can’t take the case! I’m a relative.”

  “Judge, listen to the crowd. That’s a lynch mob out there.”

  She could hear the shouting and she felt like ice. She would judge Travis’s brother … unless the mob stormed the jail and tried to lynch him. She couldn’t bear to think about the consequences—Travis would defend his brother to the death.

  “Crystal,” Wade said patiently, as if she had not heard him the first time, “you have to take the case. You don’t have a choice. I don’t care if it is your brother-in-law. There isn’t anyone else, and if we wait, he’ll be lynched.”

  She looked beyond him. “Where’s Travis?” she asked.

  “He’s back there, still with him. The boy’s in bad shape.”

  “How did he get in bad shape?”

  “He didn’t want Deputy Parnell to bring him in. He’s been shot and he took a beating. He gave a little back. The deputy don’t look so great hisself.”

  She remembered Parnell’s cuts and bruises, but they had been nothing compared to Brett’s condition. Indeed, Brett had been in bad shape when he’d left the ranch. And he wouldn’t have left if it hadn’t been for her.

  “Can I go back and talk to Travis?”