Rick hadn’t seen Amanda all day. Not since last night. Had she been purposely avoiding him? That’s how it seemed.
Had he really held her in his arms? Had he only imagined seeing what looked like love shining in the depth of her eyes?
Each time the office door opened, his spirits soared, but it had only been Hobson checking on him or members of the Red Feather posse bringing him baked goods. It took a tremendous amount of energy to greet his visitors without showing disappointment that it wasn’t Amanda standing before him.
One by one, the ladies filled his cell with his favorite food and offered tearful prayers for his soul. Mrs. Mooney hinted that since she was the bank president’s wife, her prayers were given special consideration. Mrs. Granby offered to sing at his funeral and, God love her, demonstrated with a loud, shrill voice that would do a screech owl proud. Halfway through the song, the former schoolmarm, Miss Read, fell to her knees. It was hard to know if she was praying for him or Mrs. Granby.
By the time they had all left, he was exhausted from having to assure them that not only was he ready for the pearly gates but worthy of entrance.
He had no intention of hanging. He’d rather be shot in the back while running than make Amanda do something she was loath to do. It wasn’t the most courageous way to die, but it would save Amanda from the grisly task, and that was all that mattered.
At long last, he heard the door open again. This time, it was Amanda, and his breath caught between his ribs. He searched her face. The dim light from the flickering gas lantern revealed little beyond her solemn expression. If only he knew how to lessen her pain. Nothing that happened was her fault.
He once thought he’d die a happy man if he knew she believed in him, believed in his innocence. Now he knew what a selfish thing that was. It would be easier for her if she thought him guilty. A better man would see that she did.
“You’re working late,” he said.
She made no comment. Instead, she surprised him by inserting a key into the keyhole of his cell.
The iron door swung open with a clank, and he froze.
She stepped aside, indicating what she wanted him to do. He now had full rein to walk out of there. To escape.
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”
“It’s the only chance you have.”
“I’m not leaving,” he repeated.
“Why are you punishing yourself?”
He frowned. “Punish? Why would you think such a thing?”
“You blame yourself for your wife’s death. You said as much.”
He drew in his breath. “I am to blame. I should have protected her. I should never have let Cooper—” His voice broke. “But that’s not why I’m staying. If I leave tonight, the blame will fall on your shoulders.”
She tossed a previously unnoticed bundle at him. “Put this on.”
He stared at the ball of fabric in his hands. The enormity of what she was doing hit him with such force, he took a step backward. “Did you not hear what I said?”
“Do it!”
“I can’t.” He grimaced from the pain and longing caused by her nearness. “Everything you worked for… If I leave, they’ll have your neck. Helping a prisoner escape carries a serious price. You could go to prison. Your life would be ruined.”
Her expression softened. “Without you…” She shook her head and was once again all business. “Hurry. There’s no time to lose.”
He grabbed her arm. “Amanda, listen to me. You’re puttin’ yourself in serious jeopardy.”
She pulled away. “I don’t care.”
“I do.” The stubborn look on her face was all too familiar, and his heart sank. The escape she offered was tempting. Nothing he would like better than to walk out of there tonight and vanish. But how could he in good conscious leave her holding the bag?
“Okay, I’ll do what you want me to do, but not this way. We have to make it look like I escaped of my own accord. That you tried to stop me. Tomorrow. When you lead me to the gallows… That’s when I’ll make my escape.”
She shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll be shot.”
He drew in his breath. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you won’t be blamed.”
They stared at each other, their rigid stances showing no signs of giving in. “Put the clothes on.” Never had he heard her sound so adamant, not even when she was fighting her critics. “Now!”
In a softer voice, she added, “If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.” Her luminous eyes beseeched him. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life in prison than have to walk you to the gallows or see you shot trying to escape.”
* * *
A short time later, the outside door flew open, and the Red Feather ladies strolled into the office right on time, dressed for business.
Instead of chatting as usual, the women seemed especially quiet and kept glancing at the closed door between the office and cells. A few were teary eyed, and Miss Read buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly.
No one paid any attention to Rick, seated upon the hope chest, back propped against the scorched wall. In addition to a long-sleeved dress, he wore a Mother Hubbard hat tied beneath his chin.
Amanda had borrowed one of her mother’s embroidery hoops and instructed him on how to use it. She couldn’t think of any other way for him to keep his head down and face hidden. She only wished he didn’t look like he was pounding nails instead of making dainty stitches.
Mrs. Mooney cast a disapproving look at Goldie, whose painted face and low-cut shirtwaist offered a disruptive contrast to her plain divided skirt and sensible boots.
“You do know that it’s against town ordinance for women of doubtful virtue to be out after dark.”
The comment caused even Mrs. Perl’s knitting needles to pause, and a brittle silence followed.
Fortunately, Goldie took no offense. Instead, she ran her fingers along her bare neckline and smiled sweetly. “The ordinance doesn’t apply to me. There’s no doubt about my virtue. We all know I don’t have any.”
This brought relieved laughter from the others, and Mrs. Perl resumed her knitting.
Mrs. Wellmaker was next to speak. “Deputy Hobson said we have an important job to do tonight.”
Amanda stood in such a way as to draw as much attention away from Rick as possible. “Yes, thank you for coming.” She cleared her voice. “I got a report of possible horse thieves camped about five miles out of town.” Fortunately, no one questioned the validity of her statement. “I thought we could sneak up and surprise them.”
As if their horse-drawn vehicles could surprise anyone. A person would have to be deaf not to hear them coming from miles away. On the plus side, no one would suspect a noisy cluster of wagons and buggies of hiding an escaped prisoner. Talk about hiding in plain sight.
“Ohhh,” squealed Becky-Sue. “This is sooo exciting.”
Amanda hated lying, but it was better if the women were kept in the dark. That way, no one could blame them should something go wrong.
“We have a new posse member. Her name is Janet.” Curious glances shot to where Rick sat. He raised a hand in greeting but kept his head lowered.
Some of the women exchanged glances, but no one said a word.
Amanda forced herself to breathe. “Claudia, would you mind if Janet rode with you?”
T-Bone’s wife cast a dubious look in Rick’s direction but nonetheless nodded, her sausage curls bouncing up and down. “Yes, of course.”
After giving them further instruction, Amanda stuck her head outside and called to Scooter, who was standing guard. The mayor had been seen earlier escorting his guests around town. So far, he’d seen fit to avoid her office, probably because of the scorched walls. Or maybe he just didn’t want to call attention to the sheriff being a woman. Should he change his mind, Scooter would sound a
warning.
A bigger concern was the small group of church people gathered outside singing hymns and praying for the soul of the prisoner. Sneaking Rick past them could pose a problem.
“Is everything ready, Deputy?” she asked.
He stepped into the office and saluted her. “Yes, sir, Sheriff!”
She let out her breath. So far, the hardest part had been getting Rick to cooperate. “All right, ladies. Lead the way.”
The women solemnly followed Scooter outside and into the dark of night.
Rick waited till the others had left before grabbing her by the waist, surprising her. With one easy move, he swirled her into his arms.
She gasped, but before she could say a word, he had effectively snapped a handcuff around her wrist. “What are you doing?”
For answer, he pushed her down on the hope chest and attached the other cuff to the trunk’s handle. Only then did he explain.
“When they find me gone in the morning, I don’t want them blamin’ you.” With that, he leaned over. Looking deep into her eyes, he lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly on the lips. For an amazing but fleeting moment in time, she was transported to a tropical isle, and then, just like that, he was gone.
Knowing that she would never see him again, she wanted to call him back but didn’t dare. Instead, she stared at the closed door, her mouth and body on fire. Never had she known that a man’s lips could be so tender and sweet. Oh, why did he go and kiss her? Why? If he had a sensible bone in his body, he would leave Two-Time and not look back. That meant she would never see him again. Now, thanks to his kiss, neither would she forget the feel of his lips on hers.
She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the sound of wagon wheels until the last rumbles faded away. The voices of the church group singing “Rock of Ages” never wavered. The group’s voices faded as the vigil ended and they drifted away.
Her breath whooshed out of her. Scooter and their posse had succeeded in safely smuggling Rick out of town. So far, so good.
She yanked on the handcuff attached to the handle of her hope chest, but it held tight. Recalling that the keys were in a desk drawer, she struggled to her feet but was unable to stand upright. The steel bracelet prevented her from getting behind the hope chest. The best she could do was pull the heavy chest inch by inch across the floor. Dragging a dead mule couldn’t have been any harder, and the going was frustratingly slow.
Gunfire rent the air, and the window exploded into shattered glass. She practically jumped out of her skin. What the… She froze a second before reaching for her Colt with her one free hand. She then aimed it at the side of her hope chest and fired. The charred wooden handle shot across the room, freeing the iron cuff from its hold.
More gunfire ripped through the air. Ducking, she ran across the room and hunkered beneath the window, the iron bracelet dangling from her wrist.
“I know you’re in there, Lockwood,” a man’s voice shouted. She recognized the owner at once as Gopher, and her blood ran cold. Apparently, he’d come to make good on his threat. “You think you run this town. Come out and prove it.”
Crouched beneath the windowsill, she fought to steady her nerves. The crazy fool was challenging her to a duel. “Go home, Gopher. You’re drunk!” she shouted.
He fired again, and the bullet whizzed over her head.
“Don’t make me shoot,” she cried. Please, please, don’t make me do that. The thing she most dreaded was having to kill or injure someone.
Another bullet splintered the wooden window frame. Okay, she would have to fire her weapon. There was no getting out if it.
Holding both hands over her head, she balanced the barrel of her gun on the windowsill and thumbed back the hammer. “This is your last chance,” she yelled. If he fired again, she’d pull the trigger.
He fired again.
Okay, she’d give him one more chance to see the error of his ways. “Go home,” she shouted. Please go home.
The next bullet hit the top of the window. Chips of wood and pieces of old paint rained down on her.
This time, she did what Rick told her not to do—she jerked back on the trigger, and the gun fired. The recoil sent her flying backward. Her ears were still ringing when she heard a man cry out.
“Help, I’ve been shot!”
Amanda jumped up and looked out the window. Gasping in horror, she dropped her gun. Mayor Troutman was on his knees, holding a bloody arm, and he looked fit to be tied.
Thirty-four
The following morning, Amanda arrived at the office on her pony and was shocked to find Rick’s saddled horse tied up in front.
Oh no! Something went terribly wrong!
Scooter had left Spirit at a predestined location, waiting for Rick’s arrival. Bedroll, food, and other supplies had been left there too, enough to last for several days.
Stomach churning, she tied her pony to the railing and ran inside. Scooter was sitting at his desk. “What happened?” she cried. “Is Rick—” She glanced at the cells in back.
“He’s not here,” Scooter said. “Found his horse waiting outside this morning.”
Her heart sank. She tried thinking of every plausible explanation for Spirit returning to town without a rider, but only two came to mind: Rick was either injured or dead.
Her knees buckled, and she grabbed hold of the desk.
The door flew open, and Mayor Troutman stormed inside, his arm in a sling. He glared at her from beneath a furrowed brow like a vulture on a telegraph wire.
She felt terrible. Of all the people in town she could have shot, why, oh why, did it have to be the mayor? Her bullet hit Troutman in the fleshy part of his upper arm. It could have been worse. A lot worse, but knowing that didn’t make her feel any better.
Still, how could she have known he’d taken it upon himself to sneak up on Gopher in an effort to impress his out-of-town guests, just as her weapon fired?
“We’re waiting for you,” he said without preamble.
She’d almost forgotten she was supposed to appear before the town council. “I’ll be right there.” She waited for the mayor to walk outside before tuning to Scooter.
“Summon the posse. We need all hands on deck to find Rick.”
Scooter jumped up from his desk. “Will do, Sheriff.”
* * *
On the way to the old schoolhouse where the town council meeting was to be held, Amanda ran into Mary-Louise. The two hadn’t talked since Mary-Louise walked out of the hotel dining room.
Amanda peered at the sleeping infant in the baby carriage, nudging the blanket away from his face to get a better look. “He’s getting so big,” she said. His cheeks were as chubby as a chipmunk’s.
Mary-Louise smiled. “Yes, isn’t he? And he’s such a good baby. He hardly ever cries.”
Amanda drew her hand away from the child, and a horrid realization washed over her. She now knew what had bothered her at the bank. She must have given her thoughts away, because a look of dismay crossed Mary-Louise’s face.
“I-I gotta go,” Mary-Louise said and wheeled the carriage past her.
“I know how the fire started,” Amanda called after her.
Mary-Louise stopped, her back straight as a ramrod. “I told you it was an accident.”
“Yes, I believe that part is true.”
Mary-Louise turned to face her. “Then what are you saying?”
Amanda walked up to her. “When I found your baby, he was covered with a white cloth. I didn’t think anything about it until I happened to spot a payroll being brought to the bank. I just now realized that to protect your baby from the fire, you covered him with the first thing you could find. It just so happened to be an empty money bag. Just like the ones I saw at the bank.”
Mary-Louise said nothing, so Amanda continued. “Now I have to wonder what you were doing with
bank property.”
“John uses the bags for his business. When I saw the flames, I panicked and grabbed one.”
Amanda shook her head. A small business would have no need for such a large money sack. “You can’t protect him. Not anymore. I found a charred banknote in the ashes, but I didn’t know what it meant at the time. Now I do. You were trying to burn the loot John stole from the bank. That’s how the fire started.”
Mary-Louise looked like she was about to deny it, but then her shoulders sagged, and her breath whooshed out of her. “I was in labor and went to pull a clean sheet out of an old chest when I found the loot. I knew John was worried about finances, especially with the baby coming and business down, but I had no idea…” Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you decided to burn the money.”
Mary-Louise’s eyes filled with tears. “The canvas bag was too large to fit into the stove, so I tossed the money in separately. The pains started coming fast and…” She looked like she was having trouble breathing, but she continued. “I forgot to close the grate. A spark flew out, and the curtains caught on fire. But I couldn’t do anything. Baby coming… I…I don’t remember much after that.”
“Oh, Mary-Louise, I had no idea things had gotten so bad. Why didn’t you or John ask for help? You have friends and family. Even the church…”
“John wouldn’t let me ask for help. You know how proud he is.” She beseeched Amanda with a hand to her arm. “Please…he swore it was only the one time and he would never do anything like it again.” Her lips quivered. “He’s a good man, Amanda.”
Amanda drew in her breath. A good man doesn’t rob a bank, no matter how desperate, but she didn’t want to say as much. How she hated the thought of having to arrest an old friend. Whatever made her think she was cut out to be sheriff?
“I’m so sorry…” Amanda wanted to say more, but no words seemed adequate. By the time this was over, Mary-Louise would hate her, and there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it.
Mary-Louise drew her hand away. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she reached for the baby carriage and hurried away.
A Match Made in Texas Page 23