A Match Made in Texas

by Margaret Brownley

  The eyes that had moments earlier blazed with blue fire now softened with sympathy and compassion. “I’m so sorry.”

  Something snapped inside him. He didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. Memories of the past had stirred up the anger he’d thought had been long buried.

  “So what do you want me to do? Stand by and let justice fail again?” He didn’t know he’d raised his voice until he saw her flinch.

  “You can do that!” she shouted back. “Or you can stand up and fight like a man.”

  “I am fightin’. The only way I know how. By tryin’ to find the real killer.” He picked up a stack of photographs from his cot and waved them at her. “Given enough time and with Hobson’s help, I’ll find him. I swear to God I will.”

  Her eyes widened. “Hobson took those?”

  He tossed the photographs onto the cot. “I gave him the description of the man seen leaving Cooper’s room. He hauled in every man he could find fittin’ that description, but it took too much time. We figured that photographs would be quicker.” He frowned. “I don’t want the kid gettin’ into trouble for this.”

  He heard her intake of breath. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you believe me. Say you believe I’m innocent. Say—” Surprised that he’d almost asked her to say that she cared, he clamped down on his jaw. “Th-that’s all I want.”

  “I—” She shook her head. “I want to…”

  He didn’t mean to make her feel bad. She had enough on her shoulders. Enough to worry about. Guilt washed over him. He’d tried to take advantage of her inexperience and yes, even her good heart. For that, he felt ashamed.

  “I won’t ask you to help me escape. Never again.” His voice hardened. “Just don’t ask me to put my faith in the justice system.”

  * * *

  Amanda left her office in a state of confusion and rode straight to her sister’s house. She couldn’t shake the feeling that some insidious and nameless something had simmered beneath her angry exchange with Rennick. It was as if they were both fighting an invisible foe that neither one of them wanted to acknowledge.

  But that wasn’t the only thing that bothered her. Despite Rick’s harrowing story, she still didn’t know if he was guilty or innocent of killing Michael Cooper. Rick didn’t strike her as a killer, but spending five years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit could do strange things to a man.

  The light was still shining in Meg’s front window. Even so, Amanda hesitated knocking at such a late hour. She was still debating when the door flew open.

  Meg’s husband Grant filled the doorway, his large frame blocking out the light from behind. “Amanda? I thought I heard something. Are you all right? Your father—”

  “He’s fine. Is Meg still up?”

  “I’m here,” Meg said, squeezing next to her husband. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll let you two go at it,” Grant said, backing away from the door.

  Meg smiled after him. Reaching for her shawl, she stepped onto the tiny porch, closing the door behind her. A dog’s bark was followed by a cat’s snarl. Loud voices drifted from a neighboring house. Mr. McGinnis was playing his bagpipes to the tune of his neighbor’s curses.

  It was life as usual on Peaceful Lane.

  Gunfire coming from the direction of Main Street meant things were normal in town as well. Scooter was no doubt filling the jail cells again and relishing every moment.

  Meg pulled the shawl tight around her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Mandy?”

  “The day after tomorrow, Rick’s…Mr. Rennick’s trial will begin.” Instead of feeling relief at receiving the news, she felt worried. Scared, even.

  Meg frowned. “Is that a problem? I mean you’re not required to do anything, are you?”

  “I’m expected to take the stand for the state and talk about the crime scene.” Amanda inhaled. “The problem is…what if he’s not guilty?”

  It wasn’t the first time the question of his guilt had crossed her mind, but it was getting harder to discount. If only he hadn’t tried to escape. Still, if he was truly guilty, why waste time looking for a killer who didn’t exist? Or was he just trying to confuse her?

  Meg looked surprised. “What makes you think he’s not guilty?”

  Amanda lifted her gaze to the starry sky, but before she could answer, Meg let out a gasp, and her eyes widened in alarm.

  “Oh, Amanda. Don’t tell me you have…feelings for this man.”

  “What?” Amanda stared at her. “Certainly not.” The very idea… “I don’t want to see an innocent man hang. That’s all. And you know the town has made up its mind as to his guilt. The trial is just a formality.”

  “Are you sure that’s all there is to it?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  Meg looked unconvinced. “From what I heard from some of the women in town, not only is Mr. Rennick handsome, he’s also very charming.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Miss Read for one. It seems likes she’s taken quite a fancy to him.”

  “Miss Read is hardly an expert on men,” Amanda said, feeling even more out of sorts than before. She should never have come here. Trust Meg to jump to all the wrong conclusions.

  “And neither are you,” Meg reminded her gently. “You’ve never had a beau. Nor have you ever before shown interest in the opposite sex. Some men will say anything to get what they want. It takes experience to separate the wheat from the chaff.”

  Amanda resented Meg throwing her inexperience with men in her face. In any case, it wasn’t entirely accurate. There had been someone, years ago, when she was sixteen. His name was Jonathan Campbell, and he was the handsomest man in town. When he’d invited her to the annual Christmas ball, she couldn’t believe her good fortune. She even stood still long enough for Mama to measure for a new dress. But after she picketed his father’s business for mistreating a Chinese worker, Jonathan refused to be her escort and took Mary Hopkins to the dance instead.

  “Don’t be angry, Amanda,” Meg was saying. “I’m only pointing out the facts. I don’t believe you’ve even been kissed.”

  Amanda scoffed. Of course she’d been kissed. Why, she’d once kissed Johnny Fletcher behind the church organ. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know that kissing was overrated. She could happily live the rest of her life without repeating the experience.

  “This has nothing to do with the opposite sex. Or with Mr. Rennick’s good looks and charm. I’d have the same doubts about his guilt if he had two heads and the appeal of a rattler.”

  Meg looked unconvinced but let the statement pass without comment. “So what do you plan on doing?”

  Amanda let out a long, harrowing sigh before answering. “I have no idea.”

  Twenty-five

  Rennick shoved his hands through the cell opening. “That time already?”

  Amanda’s breath caught as their gazes clashed. He looked especially handsome today in his new plaid shirt and trousers, hair neatly trimmed. Scooter had done a good job making him presentable for court.

  “Sure enough is,” Scooter said, snapping handcuffs around Rennick’s wrists. “We don’t want to be late. Makes the judge mad.”

  “Wouldn’t want to do that,” Rennick said. “Not that the judge hasn’t kept us waiting.”

  Amanda unlocked the cell door without comment, her conversation with Meg very much on her mind. Are you sure you don’t have feelings for him? What a ridiculous notion. Crazy. Absolutely insane.

  To think that she would fall for…have feelings for… It was too ridiculous for words. Meg’s pregnancy had certainly clouded her thinking.

  Scooter pulled out his gun. “Just in case you get a notion to escape.”

  “Don’t worry,”
Rennick said with a meaningful look at Amanda. “I’ve heard tell that only the guilty run.”

  “Is that so? That’s good to know. But as Grandpappy always said, he who is not dead is not yet clear of defects.”

  “Wise man, your grandpappy.”

  Amanda bit her lower lip. His calm demeanor didn’t fool her. She’d heard him moan in his sleep, heard him cry out not just once but several times.

  With a sigh, she turned and led the way outside. His guilt or innocence was now up to the court. He was no longer her responsibility. She should be happy to have one less thing to worry about. She was happy. Or would be once this whole thing was over.

  Together, Amanda and Scooter walked Rennick to the old schoolhouse that served as the courthouse. People lined both sides of the street as they walked the short distance down Main. Since she’d taken over as sheriff, everything that happened in and around the sheriff’s office had become of prime interest to the citizens of Two-Time.

  Seeing today’s crowd, Scooter practically crowed. “This is so exciting! It’s like we’re on stage or somethin’.”

  In no mood for her deputy’s enthusiasm, she snapped, “Make them back away.” She didn’t want anyone close to her prisoner.

  “Will do, Sheriff.” Scooter walked ahead of them, waving his gun and yelling, “Move it. Move it.”

  Rennick’s stoic expression made her heart ache. No doubt he was thinking about his first trial and how that turned out. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him. She didn’t want to feel anything at all for him, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Pulling her gaze away, she stared straight ahead. Unfortunately, blocking him from view only increased her awareness of him in other ways. She could still feel the power coiled inside him, smell the fresh fragrance of soap on warm skin, the spicy fragrance of Bay Rum hair tonic.

  “Birdseye is a good lawyer,” she said, uttering those words for her own sake as well as his. “Long as you work with him.”

  “I’d have a better chance if you’d just let me go,” he said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the buzzing crowd.

  “You said you wouldn’t ask that of me again,” she whispered.

  “That was on the condition you didn’t ask me to believe in justice.”

  “If you’re as innocent as you claim…you have nothing to worry about.”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  She felt a squeezing pain inside. He was right. The jury would look at the evidence and come to only one conclusion: guilty as charged. Public opinion was already against him. That very morning, an editorial in the newspaper called for swift justice.

  But that didn’t mean she could release him. How could she? She took an oath to uphold the law, and she was bound by honor to do just that.

  Fortunately, he didn’t pursue the conversation, and they continued the rest of the way in silence.

  At one point, Rennick stopped and exchanged a glance with a cowpuncher standing on the sidelines rolling a cigarette. Amanda had seen the man around town but didn’t know his name. He worked at the Circle K Ranch. Did the two know each other?

  Nerves taut, she rested her hand on the grip of her gun and urged Rennick to walk faster. She liked Rick a whole lot more than she wanted to admit, but that didn’t mean she would take a chance on him escaping.

  The courtroom was empty except for Rennick’s lawyer. To appease those who believed that cross-lighting was harmful to the eyes, the old schoolhouse was built with windows on only the one side. This lopsided lighting turned out to be a boon to the state on the sunny side and a detriment to the defense in the shadows.

  Mr. Birdseye greeted his client with a nod.

  She waited for Scooter to attach the floor chain to Rennick’s ankle before turning to Rennick’s lawyer. “Do you have a moment?”

  For answer, he followed her to the back of the room where they could talk in private.

  She indicated Rennick with a slight nod. “Have you worked out a defense?” A word of encouragement was all that she needed.

  Birdseye rubbed his chin and grimaced. “None that the prosecutor won’t blow away. Since he refuses to plead guilty, I’d say his chances are good as a snowflake in you know where.”

  She inhaled. “He still claims his innocence.”

  “They all do. No criminal I ever heard of admitted to guilt.”

  She frowned. “We still haven’t found the weapon.”

  “Well, now, that’s the problem.”

  Her spine stiffened. “How do you mean?”

  “A maid cleaning Cooper’s room found the knife. Said she found it under the chest of drawers.”

  Amanda was barely able to control her gasp of surprise. She’d searched under that bureau herself. “That’s not possible. We turned that room upside down. There was no knife. I’ll stake my life on it.”

  Birdseye splayed his hands. “What can I say? The maid claims she found it in the room and is prepared to testify to that in court.”

  Amanda stared at him. “When? When did she find it?”

  “Couple of days ago.”

  Amanda’s mind whirled. Someone must have put that knife in the room after she and Scooter had searched it. It was the only thing that made sense. But not just someone—the real killer.

  This was the first tangible proof of Rick’s innocence, but rather than relieve her mind, it only worried her more. The missing weapon was the one thing that worked in Rick’s favor; the argument that he had no time to get rid of it was no longer valid.

  The sound of gunfire coming from somewhere outside made her practically leap to the schoolhouse window. In a town like Two-Time, such a sound was not all that uncommon. But now that law and order was her responsibility, it felt like a call to action.

  “Sounds like trouble. I better go.”

  “You do that, Sheriff,” Birdseye said. “We’ll still be here when you get back.”

  She motioned to her deputy sheriff to stay with Rennick and dashed out the door.

  * * *

  Moments later, Amanda spotted a chair flying out of the batwing doors of the Golden Spur Saloon, giving a pretty good indication where the shot originated. From inside came the sound of a scuffle punctuated with loud thuds and shouts.

  Hand on her holstered Colt, Amanda ran the distance to the saloon. Without hesitating, she dashed through the doors, ducking to avoid a tossed whiskey bottle.

  A crowd of onlookers gathered around two men battling on the sawdust floor. Contorted faces mere inches apart, the men hammered each other tooth and nail. She recognized one as Gopher. She’d not set eyes on him since the night she stopped Rick’s hanging.

  The second man—a stranger—looked like he was on the losing end.

  Gopher and his brothers, Blade and Buster, had caused trouble in the town for as long as she could remember.

  She pulled out her Colt. “Okay, you two. That’s enough!”

  No one paid her any heed, least of all the battling duo.

  She raised her arm and pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off the tin ceiling and hit the steer horn gas light fixture. Bone pieces flew in every direction. The two men broke apart, the stranger holding his bloodied nose.

  The saloon owner, Pepper, glared at her from behind the polished bar. “Hey, this ain’t a proper place for no lady!”

  “No place for anyone,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  Gopher staggered to his feet, picked up his hat, and slapped it against his leg. “He’s a cheat.”

  His opponent sat up and dabbed at his nose with a red kerchief. “He’s a blasted liar.” If his short-brimmed, short-crowned hat didn’t peg him as a northerner, his clipped speech did.

  “Yeah, well, you both better leave now, or I’ll arrest the two of you for disturbing the peace.”

  The stranger clim
bed to his feet, and the spectators backed away to give him room. Without another word, he swayed once, twice, and finally stumbled outside through the swinging doors.

  Amanda kept her gun pointed at Gopher. “You too, Coldwell.”

  His eyes glittered like two pieces of coal, his mouth as straight and sharp as the blade of a knife. “I ain’t finished my game.”

  “Yeah, you have,” she said.

  His lip lifted in an ugly smirk. “What do you think, men? Did I or did I not finish my game?”

  “You sure enough didn’t,” his brother Buster said, and Blade backed him up. A chorus of voices raised in agreement.

  A tense silence followed, broken only by Keith Watson’s mouth organ, which he played with great diligence. All eyes remained on Amanda.

  She was in a terrible bind and had no idea how to get out of it. Let Gopher have his way, and she would lose what little credibility she had. On the other hand, she was outnumbered thirty to one, and only a fool would stand up against such odds.

  Gopher glared at her with a knowing expression. “I think it would be a good idea for you to leave now.” He tossed a nod at the game table. “Me and the boys have a game to finish.”

  She made a quick if not altogether wise decision. “The only thing you’re going to do is walk out that door.”

  He laughed without mirth, sending chills down her spine. Next to him, Blade’s mustache twitched above a smile that turned her blood cold.

  “You always were a feisty one,” Gopher said. “What you need is a good man to tame you.” He turned to the crowd. “What do you think, men? Shall I show the lady here who’s running this town?”

  His question was answered with approving hoots and hollers. The mouth organ kept playing. Gopher started toward her, his hands curled into fists by his side.

  She gripped the gun tight, but they both knew she didn’t have the heart to shoot a man point blank.