River Song

by Sharon Ihle

  "Sheriff Moffit, I really don't think that needs discussing."

  "Let it be, lad. Sean'll be knowin' we were put on the fence." Rising from the chair, Patrick sucked in his belly and hiked up his trousers. "Me boy was with a white woman, as yer suspectin', but he weren't doin' her no dishonor, sir."

  His laugh short, ringed with disgust, Allen said, "You can say that all day long, but you got no proof of what he did or didn't do. I can see just by looking at your family, you folks don't care what or who you breed with."

  Anticipating Patrick's reaction, Cole sidestepped and grabbed the back of his neck just as he tried to leap across the desk. "Take it easy," he whispered. "Let me handle this."

  When the Irishman sank back into his chair, Cole picked up the lead. "Those remarks are uncalled for, and none of that really matters, does it? The point is, Sean has killed or harmed no one. Please send a wire to Phoenix and have him released now, before some fool decides to carry out his own brand of justice."

  "Hmm." Allen made a great show of pondering his words, and slid a well-scrubbed finger back and forth across his smooth chin.

  Straightening in his chair, he leaned across his desk and picked up an old "wanted" poster. Slowly folding the paper into a series of pleats, he commented, "There's all kinds of laws to be broken in these parts. All kinds," he emphasized, spreading the poster into the shape of a fan. "I'm not so sure I have the authority to turn a fella like that loose without some sort of justification."

  "Justification?Yerawantin' justification, Sheriff? I'll be showing ye justification." No longer able to contain his anger, Patrick balled up his fists and puffed up his chest as he struggled out of his chair, but before he could move, Cole gripped one of his bulky arms.

  "Come on, Patrick. Have a seat. I think the sheriff and I can work something out." After he helped the irate Irishman back into his chair, Cole continued on around him and approached the desk. Laying his palms flat on the polished wood, he stared into the sheriff's eyes.

  Allen rolled his chair back several inches and fanned the few drops of perspiration building on his brow. "Now look here," the sheriff boomed in his voice of authority. "If you people think you can come in here and threaten the law, you got another think coming."

  His voice deceptively low and gentle, Cole smiled. "We wouldn't dream of such a thing, Sheriff." Certain he'd read the man's eyes and thoughts correctly, he went on. "I was just thinking how much plain folks like ourselves owe to you fine men behind the badge."

  Visibly relieved, Allen's fan slowed and he arched his brows as Cole made his offer. "There must be some way for a common man like myself to show you how much we appreciate you and the high office you hold."

  His gaze wary, calculating, Allen agreed. "It's always good to be appreciated, and most often seems to put me in a very generous state of mind."

  "It's a relief to know that about you." Glancing around the room, then back to the sheriff and his homemade fan, Cole hit on the perfect enticement. "Must get hotter than hell in here once summer rears its ugly head."

  Just thinking about the heat yet to come increased the strokes of the sheriff's fan. Grumbling under his breath, he said, "It gets hotter than that while summer's still crawling uphill on her belly."

  Cole forced a laugh, then made his offer. "You ever had a refreshing chunk of ice floating in your glass of lemonade or whiskey?"

  More curious than wary by now, Allen shrugged. "I was at a wedding last summer where they put ice in the drinks. It was downright nice. Why'd you ask?"

  "Oh, I was just thinking about all the hard work you and your office go through trying to settle a little problem like we got here. I think it'd be real fitting if the Fremont family were to donate one of those newfangled ice-making machines to the courthouse. Why, you could have iced drinks anytime you wanted."

  The sheriff sat up rod-straight and fiddled with his string tie. "I have to admit,” he finally said, his eyes round with enthusiasm, "that's a mighty temptin' offer and a hell of a good idea."

  "Then consider it done."

  "Now just a minute here." Allen held his hands in the air as he rose. "I got to think on this a minute. You folks wait here. I'll be right back."

  Three heads swiveled to watch his departure. After the sheriff disappeared around the corner, Sunny turned to Cole, her dark eyes wide and incredulous. "Did I hear right? Did you just offer that man a bribe, and did he accept it?"

  "Hush," he cautioned, his index finger pressed against his lips. "Let's just say what you've witnessed here is a little territorial justice."

  "But that's illegal."

  "And immoral as far as I'm concerned, but if it gains you and your brother your freedom, it's justice enough for me."

  Patrick growled, a deep dangerous rumble in his throat. "I'd still like the chance to visit me own brand of justice on the blight. Just five minutes, that'd be all I need with the little cur."

  "I hope you get your chance one day, too, but for now," Cole glanced over his shoulder, "I think we'd better accept anything he'll give us and give whatever he'll take. Got it?"

  With a grumble, Patrick nodded, then slipped his flask out of his pocket. Turning to Sunny, Cole looked for the same compromise, but he was met with her upturned chin and pursed lips. "Got it, Mrs. Fremont?"

  "Oh," she complained, "I suppose I do if I must, but I do not have to like it."

  "No, you don't."

  Patrick took a swig of whiskey then passed the flask. By the time Cole and Sunny had each taken a sip of the spirits and returned the container to her father, the sheriff returned. He escorted a grim-faced Judge James R. Hoy.

  "Well now," the judge drawled as he strolled into the office. "And heah I thought I'd seen the last of y'all."

  Sheriff Moffit stopped in his tracks. "You know these folks?"

  "G'won, Allen. Have a seat and be still." Approaching the desk, the judge rested his hips against its edge as he faced the trio. "The sheriff has told me of your troubles. I think if we can clear up a few misunderstandings, we can settle these matters in a way to please everyone."

  "That's all I've been hoping for, Judge Hoy. A little justice."

  "Uh, huh." Adjusting his bifocals, he cocked his head and peered at Sunny. "If you don' mind, li'l lady, please explain to me just how you come to end this Buck fella's life? I seem to recall you usin' the word murder in my chambers not one hour past. Was it self-defense or did you go gunning for him?"

  Sunny gulped, then took a deep breath. "I said the word murder because I believe causing the death of any person is nothing short of murder. But I did not go after Buck Wheeler. That is the truth, Your Honor." She looked down at the twisted hanky in her hand, shuddering as she remembered. "Buck came after me and tried to attack me. All I did was hit him, then, I don't know, it all happened so fast, everything is a blur."

  Sunny glanced at Cole, then her father. Raising her chin a notch, she finished her testimony. "If Buck Wheeler were in this room now, I would kill him again."

  Judge Hoy's features softened, and he came as close to smiling as he ever did. "I believe you would, too."

  Patrick leaped out of his chair. "She do'na mean it, Yer Honor, she’s upset about her mother."

  "Please return to your seat, Mr. Callahan. Your daughter has cleared herself to my satisfaction." He leaned backward over the desk and said, "Run on over to the telegraph office, Allen. Send a wire to the sheriff in Phoenix tellin' him to drop the charges on the Callahan boy. Tell him we got the suspect here in Yuma and that I'll be sending the details by mail."

  "Ah, yes, sir, but what about—"

  "That'll be all, Jake. I can finish up with these folks."

  The minute the sheriff left the room, Patrick was back on his feet again. "Thank ye kindly, me good man! I cannot thank ye enough."

  "Mr. Callahan, I've a few things to clear up with these two nice people here. Perhaps you'd join the deputy in the other room and give us a little privacy?"

  "Faith, and I'll be
happy ta be on me way." Chuckling, bowing, and waving, Patrick backed out of the office and closed the door.

  Judge Hoy pushed away from the desk and stared down at Cole. "My sheriff here has leveled some serious charges again' you, suh. He says you tried to bribe him."

  Jerking out of the chair, Cole faced the judge. "I'm afraid the man misunderstood. That offer had nothing to do with my wife's freedom. I merely wanted to give something to the land of her birth, leave a little something in her name when I take her away."

  One thick caterpillar of an eyebrow responded, inched toward his hairline. "Do I understand you correctly, suh? Are you planning to take your leave of our fine town?"

  "The minute my shipment of birds arrives in the next few days, Sunny and I will be heading east. We're making our home near the Verde River outside of Phoenix."

  "Ummm, that's excellent news, suh. Just excellent." Stroking his chin, the judge began to walk toward the door.

  "In that case, I'll just be drawing up some papers for you two to take to the authorities in Phoenix. They will include a full pardon for your wife."

  "I thank you, Your Honor. We'll stop by after the birds have arrived to collect them. By then, I will have had the arrangements for the ice-making machine completed as well."

  Turning as he opened the door, the judge nodded slowly. "That's excellent, suh. Just excellent." Then he was gone.

  Stunned, Sunny climbed slowly out of her chair. "I cannot believe what has happened here. I cannot believe any of this."

  Cole took two short strides and dragged her into his arms. "Believe it, my beautiful flower. You're free."

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Sunny buried her face against his shoulder and returned his embrace as if it might be the last. Everything had happened so fast, so unexpectedly. She was Sunflower Fremont now, married to the only man she would ever love. Did she love him enough to release him from the reckless bargain he'd made just to insure her freedom, her life? That Cole Fremont loved her, Sunny no longer had any doubt. Was it deep enough to remain tied to her for the rest of his life? Condemned, as his father might say, to be the father of a passel of half-breeds?

  She had to be sure. Forcing a smile, Sunny pulled back and said, "I am free, but you are not. Is there some way for us to end this marriage and return you to the fine ladies of your world?"

  Holding her at arms length, Cole grumbled, "You just don't get it do you?"

  "I only want what is best for you."

  "This," Cole jerked her hand up between them and pointed at the shiny gold ring on her finger, "and this," he patted the marriage certificate sticking out of his jacket pocket, "are what I think is best for me. What do you want, Sunflower?"

  "I want you, Cole. You are all I have ever wanted, but it is not fair to you."

  "I love you. What else can I say? What else can I do to prove my love to you?"

  Sunny gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. He did love her enough to endure the trials ahead. He did. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't speak.

  Glancing through the sheriff's dusty window, Cole spotted the Yuma Hotel across the street. Looking back at Sunny, his grin spread his mustache almost to his earlobes. "Come on, Mrs. Fremont. Once we get this marriage consummated, you'll play hell getting out of it."

  She found her voice. "Consummated? What does this mean?"

  Taking her by the hand, he winked as they strolled out of the room. "Well, it means ... why don't you let me show you what it means."

  Laughing as they stepped out into the sunshine, he glanced at her with a wicked gleam in his eye. "What was it you were saying awhile back about that damnable corset and bustle?"

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Cole captured a dusky rose nipple in his mouth and teased the crown with a languid tongue. Submersed in pleasure, awash with contentment, he murmured, "I love you, Sunny. I'll always love you."

  "I know," she whispered against the top of his blond head. "And I shall always love you, my husband."

  "I will always be your husband."

  "And I shall always be your wife."

  "I'm glad we finally got that little problem solved," he laughed. "But now we've another."

  Reading the mirth in his expression, Sunny's dark eyes widened and sparkled as she playfully said, "If the problem has anything to do with more consummating, I do not believe I can help you for awhile." Dramatically flinging her arms on the pillow above her head, Sunny sighed. "I am very tired, my vigorous husband."

  With a lusty chuckle, Cole planted a kiss between her damp breasts, then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. "Thank God for small favors. You haven't been out of this bed for damn near twenty-four hours. How can you expect to get anything out of this marriage but consummation, if every time I leave and come back to this room you're lying there with your hair spread all over that pillow just asking for trouble?"

  Through a chuckle, she asked, "And this bothers you so?"

  "No," he admitted as he leaned up on one elbow and gazed down at her. "I feel like you've been robbed of what should have been a very special day. I want to make it up to you, so I'm offering to marry you all over again. Here or in Phoenix, or both if you wish."

  "But we are married already, are we not?"

  Cole shrugged. "Legally, yes, but don't you want more? Don't you want a real wedding dress, and lots of guests at a big party after, and most of all—" he laughed at the memory, "your own choice of attendants?"

  The suggestion and memories gave her a good laugh before she replied. "It means a lot to know that you would do that for me, but I believe the most important thing to me is knowing we had a truly memorable wedding. And believe me, my husband, I shall never, ever forget the day we wed."

  "It's a day I'm not likely to forget either, but are you sure it's enough? Won't you always feel a little robbed?"

  "I am sure. And I only feel robbed when you are not with me." Reaching behind Cole's neck, she drew him to her and fit his mouth to the contours of hers. The kiss was meant as a bond, a gentle token of their love and dedication to one another, but it quickly flared to passion, left Sunny breathless with its intensity.

  With the last of her strength, she pushed him away and gasped, "I thought you wanted me out of this bed."

  "I thought I did, too, my wicked little flower."

  Breaking into a grin, Sunny purred, "Do we not have to go to the railroad station?"

  "We do, but not for another hour."

  "An hour, my love? Whatever shall we do to help the time pass?"

  His mustache crooked, twitching in anticipation, Cole slid his hand beneath the bedsheet. Finding the sleek expanse of satiny skin he sought, he murmured, "I'll think of something."

  To make sure that he did, Sunny tossed the sheets aside, and said, "See? No bustles, no corset."

  Sunny slipped her gloved hand in the crook of Cole's arm as the pair rounded the corner and headed up the dusty street toward the railroad depot. In spite of the fact that she wore two bustles lashed to her behind, she held her head high, secure in the knowledge her appearance was as fashionable as any woman she'd passed in town. As comfortable as it was practical, her gray serge travelling suit was of the newest style, decorated with rows of black silk braiding across the bodice, and set off at the throat with a bit of primrose lace to soften the look.

  The bustles, entirely Sunny's idea and decision, finished the ensemble with a silhouette of feminine elegance. But at the end of the train ride to Maricopa, she thought with a delicious smile, these hideous "fanny pillows" would be prized only by buzzards and roadrunners as nesting materials. This time Sunny meant it—she had donned them for the last time.

  Pleased as she imagined herself tossing the bustles over a cliff, Sunny increased the tempo as she walked, and wore a smile bright enough to challenge the Arizona sun.

  "Top o' the mornin' to ye there," Patrick called as he shuffled across the dusty street. "Hold up a bit. I've received word from Sean."

  He limped
up beside them, dragging a leg left dangling on a bar stool for too long the night before, and paused to catch his breath. He waved a yellow paper in his hand and explained, "Me boy's been released. He is well."

  "Oh, thank God for that," Sunny breathed, pressing her hand to her breast. "When will he return home?"

  "Aye, of that I'm not too sure."

  Cole slapped his father-in-law on the back. "Walk along with us to the depot and fill us in on the way."

  Falling in alongside, Patrick shrugged as he trudged down Madison Avenue with them. "Tis precious little I've to report. Me boy has taken up his cause agin'." He elbowed Cole in the ribs and winked. "Takes after his sister, I believe he do."

  Waiting until the train's shrill whistle completed its declaration, Sunny exclaimed, "You mean he's with Eileen again?"

  The squeal of engine brakes filled the air as the train slowed for its approach, and Patrick had to shout. "He's bound to help the lass he says, but would not put in writin' the direction they'll be aheadin'. He'll wire again when they stop at another town."

  They'd reached the depot and Cole helped Sunny onto the platform, then turned and offered her father his arm.

  "Thank ye, lad," Patrick muttered, accepting the aid. "I fear a Gila monster may have crawled in me mouth as I took me rest last night. Poisoned me something powerful, it did."

  Sunny rested a fist on her hip. "The only way that bit of malarkey could be true is if that Gila monster crawled into your pocket while you were taking your rest at The Bucket."

  "Ye see what I mean, lad. Ye kin never get ahead of 'em, nor gather enough advice to live in peace." Patrick's bushy brows arched and he became animated, but the rest of his complaints were lost as the Southern Pacific roared up beside them.

  Coughing and belching out thick dark columns of smoke, the engine slowly screeched to a halt. Occasionally interrupted by the rhythmic billows of steam hissing from the train's boilers, Sunny turned to Cole.

  "I am so excited. When can I see these birds?"

  "Birrds?" Patrick bellowed. "What birrds?"