by Nan Ryan
"I don't see what difference it—"
"The exact location, Leatherwood."
"Objection, Your Honor." Doug Matthews bolted up out of his chair. "I can't see what the—"
"Your Honor," Kane said as his arms came unfolded and his right foot went back to the floor, "I assure you this line of questioning is consequential and if you'll allow me to continue, I shall prove it."
"Objection overruled," said Judge Natalie Vallance. "Defense may continue if location is needed to prove a point."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Kane smiled and turned back to Leatherwood. "Where?"
Leatherwood squirmed in the witness chair and said heatedly, "You was up there on Promontory Point about a hundred yards below timberline, watering your horse in Primrose Lake."
"Absolutely correct, Mr. Leatherwood. That is precisely where I was that day." Kane smiled at the scowling man. "And what did you and 'little Jimmy' do when you saw me there?"
"We told you you was trespassing."
"That's all. Just like that. You merely informed me I was trespassing. Nothing more?"
"Just told you to leave." Leatherwood narrowed his eyes.
"Do you know the penalty for perjury, Mr. Leatherwood?"
"The penalty for what?"
Kane leaned close to Leatherwood's face. "Lying under oath?"
"I ain't lying, I'm—"
"You're lying, all right, Leatherwood. You did more than ask me to leave. You shot at me, isn't that right."
"No, it ain't!"
"You started shooting and I had no choice but to defend myself."
"No, no, it wasn't like that…" Leatherwood looked at the jury, then at the county attorney.
"It was exactly like that. You shot at me and I defended myself For, in fact, it was you and your brother who were trespassing that day."
"Objection!" The county attorney was again on his feet and a loud buzz swept through the crowd. Members of the jury were looking at one another in bafflement. Natalie was rapping for order, feeling as confused as everyone else.
Of those occupying the Castleton County Courthouse on that hot September day, only Kane Covington seemed coolly in control. He went to the defense table, where he'd laid his folded jacket. From the inside breast pocket he drew out a document. Every eye was on him.
Kane walked directly to the bench, spread the legal-looking paper before Natalie, and said, "Your Honor, may I introduce as evidence, this legal deed to said property upon which I did shoot and kill one Jimmy Ray Leatherwood on July 8, 1872, while he and his brother, Damon Leatherwood, were trespassing on my property."
The county attorney had joined Kane at the bench. He was reaching for the document while Natalie, stunned and uncomprehending, stared down at Kane Covington, her questioning green eyes demanding an explanation.
"Your Honor," Kane said softly, looking directly at her, "you'll find, when you examine it, this deed to be legal and binding. I am rightful owner to the entire top forty-five hundred feet of Promontory Point, that mostly vertical property located at the eastern boundary of Cloud West; said property fully defined by metes and bounds and containing exactly—"
Natalie heard no more than the words Promontory Point… Cloud West. After that she could see Kane Covington's lips moving, but heard nothing of what he said.
Promontory Point. Treasure Mountain. The Manitou gold.
The vows I made to Tahomah to protect the gold! she thought. Dear Lord, this can't be happening…it's not possible… The hidden Cliff Palace with its rooms of gold. The Anasazi's sacred burial ground.
"No!" she shouted, banging the gavel and jumping to her feet. "No! It can't be!. It's mine, all of Cloud West is mine! Tahomah gave it to me a decade ago!"
Chapter Seven
The crowded courtroom erupted.
Joe South, almost sober, stood at the back of the room nervously twisting his soiled Stetson, stating wide-eyed at Kane Covington. Thin, pallid Burl Leatherwood, the older of the two brothers, shifted in his seat, lips tightening with displeasure. Sourdoughs scratched their heads and questioned one another. Ladies gasped, their eyes sparkling, inwardly pleased that the tall, dark stranger in their midst might be saved from the hangman's noose.
"Your Honor," Kane softly broke in on Natalie's declarations, "if you continue with this outburst, I'll ask that a disinterested third party be—"
Natalie was well versed in the law. She knew she was dangerously close to making prejudicial statements that would most certainly disqualify her in her own court.
Face red with anger, she fought to calm herself While the excited spectators continued their commotion, Natalie looked directly into Kane's blue eyes and said softly, so that only he could hear, "You won't get away with this, Counselor. I don't know what sleight of hand you're trying to pull, but it won't work. Cloud West is mine—all of it—and if you ever again set foot on it, I'll finish what the Leatherwoods started."
Kane's full lips curved into a cruel smile, but he made no reply.
"Ordeal!" Natalie rapped the gavel. "This court will come to order!" Voices lowered to a hum and finally fell silent. "New evidence has been offered for introduction by the defense. Said evidence will be examined at this time by prosecution and the bench." Her frigid green gaze fell on Kane. "Defense will hand over the alleged deed."
"Ah, I believe you're holding it, Your Honor," Kane said levelly.
Clutched so tightly in her right hand that the paper was crinkling, the damning deed lay before her. Natalie loosened her hold upon the document and said calmly, "So it is. Will prosecution approach the bench."
The county attorney hurried forward while Natalie read the words deeding sections of Cloud West to one Kane W. Covington. Natalie scanned the document dated 1865. There, in bold, telling strokes, was the signature of her deceased husband, Major Devlin Vallance. There was no doubt in her mind that Devlin had signed away the property. She recognized his distinctive hand; she'd seen it so many times at the closing of his letters.
"Your Honor." Kane directed her attention to the signatures of the two witnesses to the document. "If proof of your husband's signature is needed, may I suggest the court call one of the undersigned for testimony. I'm told said witness, Colonel James Dunn, now resides in Denver. He could be in Cloudcastle by-"
"Colonel Dunn's presence is unnecessary." Natalie resignedly lifted her green eyes from the document. "This is my husband's signature. The deed is valid."
Suppressing a weary sigh, she passed the deed to Doug Matthews. He studied it thoughtfully, scratched his head, and reluctantly gave it over to the foreman of the jury. He returned to the bench and said, "Your Honor, I'm not certain this man can own land in the United States or its territories. He's already admitted that he never signed the—"
"Your Honor, may I quote from Lancaster versus the Territory of Montana, wherein the—"
"Please, no, Mr. Covington." Natalie gave him a negative shake of her head. Then, to the county attorney, "Defendant can legally own land, Counselor. Please continue."
"Yes, Your Honor. Prosecution calls Kane Covington to the witness stand."
Matthews strode up and down before the witness box, purposely silent, intentionally dramatic. The room grew quieter and quieter. Just as Doug Matthews had hoped. At last he came to stand before the witness. He spoke softly so that those in the back of the packed room and the ones peering through the windows leaned forward in an effort to hear.
"Are you aware, Mr. Covington, that something a man coerces another to give up does not rightfully belong to the man who takes it."
"I'd agree with that."
"You would?" Matthews smiled and glanced smugly at the jury. "Then may I suggest, Covington, that no part of the Vallance property is rightfully yours." He leaned close and added, "May I further suggest that the deed you have in your possession is completely worthless." His voice was steadily growing louder. "Is it not a fact that the land in question did change hands in a military prison?"
"Yes."
"I thought so!" Matthews's eyes danced with delight. "May I suggest, sir, that the land is not yours! The facts speak for themselves. A prisoner relieved of his property by his captor! I contend that Major Vallance's land was taken from him under extreme duress!"
The county attorney's voice had boomed to a deafening crescendo. He was pleased with his stirring performance, feeling certain he'd moved the enrapt jury, sure every person in the room was mentally applauding. So convinced was he of his swaying oratory, he swiftly pivoted about and faced his large audience.
"Only," drawled a deep voice from behind, "the duress of three ladies."
Matthews's satisfied smile slipped a little and his ebullience was dampened by the sure, calm tone of the accused. He turned to face Kane. "Three ladies?" he repeated foolishly.
Kane laced long, tanned fingers atop his hard abdomen. "Yes. A poker game in prison. But a Federal prison, not a Confederate one. And it was I who was the prisoner, not Major Vallance." Kane paused, glanced at the jury, then continued, never lifting his voice, speaking in level, conversational tones.
"I was temporarily a guest of the Yankees. Major Devlin Vallance visited the prison with a group of fellow officers to inspect the accommodations. He expressed his penchant for poker; I assured the major that we had at least one thing in common. I was released from my cell for an evening of cards in the officers' quarters. I was quite lucky… at cards, that is. The major ran out of money. He insisted the game continue."
Kane lifted his wide shoulders in a shoulders in a shrug. "I was his prisoner, could I refuse his request? When reveille sounded, Major Vallance owed me a small fortune. The land he owned was his only means of payment. An honorable man, he deeded sections of this land over to me, and as you have seen it has been duly witnessed by two field grade officers." Kane paused. "Officers of the Union army." He stopped speaking.
Matthews was completely deflated. The big man looked much like a five-year-old boy about to burst into frustrated tears after failing to get his way. Knowing he was beaten on the question of the deed's validity, he dropped the issue and altered his line of questioning.
"Why, I wonder, Mr. Covington," Matthews said hurriedly, "have you waited all this time to claim what is rightfully yours?" He lifted his eyebrows in puzzlement. "You tell the court you won the property during the war. Why did you wait seven long years to come claim it? What were you doing all that timer?"
Kane smiled at the big man. "Counselor," he said flatly, "I can't see that where I've been and what I've been doing since the war should be of particular concern to you or this court." He refused to elaborate.
The ladies in attendance tittered and nodded, and wondered just what the appealingly mysterious dark man had been up to for the past seven years. So did Judge Natalie Vallance.
"Mr. Covington," Matthews said, walking over to stand before the jury, "if it was your property you stood upon the day you encountered the Leatherwoods, why in heaven's name didn't you tell them what you were doing there?"
"I didn't feel it was my duty to explain my presence on my own land."
"Oh, you didn't," Matthews said hatefully, leaning over the wooden rail of the jury box. "I see. And you didn't feel it was your place to have the decency to inform Mrs. Natalie Vallance that a portion of her ranch now belonged to you. You didn't bother with telling anyone at all and then after you killed Jimmy Leatherwood and wounded his brother Damon, you fled like a thief in the night! Why? If it was your land, why run?"
"Had I stayed, I'd have been a dead man by sundown," Kane stated calmly. "Only a fool would have remained. The facts are this, Counselor. I rode through Cloudcastle on July eighth, not stopping in town. I proceeded on up to Promontory Point and there did encounter the Leatherwood brothers. They fired on me and I returned that fire, hitting both men. I left immediately. I rode for Bernalillo in the New Mexico Territory that very night."
"Why?" Matthews spun about and rushed back to the witness box. Lifting his arms in a questioning gesture, he said, "It was your land. You were defending yourself Why was it necessary to leave the Territory? Why didn't you come into town and tell Sheriff Gifford what had happened?"
"That deed." Kane nodded his dark head to the document a jury member was studying. "The deed was in the New Mexico Territory. I knew I didn't have a chance without it to prove ownership. No sooner had I collected the deed than I was arrested by federal marshal Jake Cochran." Kane hesitated and Natalie, holding her breath, wondered if he now intended to tell everything. Kane's blue eyes flicked to her, touched her briefly, and dismissed her. He said nothing more.
Natalie sat stiffly on the bench and fought the waves of nausea engulfing her. She had had no choice but to sit quietly by while this coldhearted southerner calmly explained how her beloved husband had gambled away Treasure Mountain, the sacred burial ground she had vowed never to disturb.
She had not told Devlin of the gold. Had she done so, this terrible thing would not have happened. He had never known; he'd thought he was relinquishing untillable acreage, far less valuable than the lower spread. He had let go only of land that was for the most part vertical, therefore useless, worthless. Dear God, she should have broken her vow of silence and told him.
The trial continued, but Natalie knew she was beaten. And she knew as well, as she watched Kane Covington present his closing arguments to the jury, that he was going to beat the murder charge against him.
His speech was eloquent and convincing. The jurors listened, transfixed, and Natalie could tell by the expressions on their weathered faces that they intended to set him free.
They didn't like the man, that was evident, but they were honest, law-abiding men who meant to see justice done. It was almost a relief when, after only thirty minutes of deliberation, the verdict was brought in.
"Have you reached a decision?" Natalie questioned the foreman.
"We have, Your Honor. We find the defendant, Kane W. Covington, not guilty."
Damon Leatherwood jumped up from his seat. "Why they can't let that—" A hand on his sleeve silenced him as his older brother, Burl, shook his head.
"This court is adjourned," said Judge Natalie Vallance, and brought down her gavel with a resounding ring.
Burl Leatherwood guided his enraged younger brother to-ward the door. Joe South laughed happily and headed for the nearest saloon. The room swiftly emptied.
Natalie stepped down from the bench and made her way toward her chambers. Kane beat her. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, waiting. Not caring if anyone heard her, Natalie said hotly, "Get out of my way, you dirty, thieving Rebel!"
"Why, Your Honor," Kane said with mock despair, "is that any way to talk to a neighbor?" Horrified, Natalie gasped, "Surely you don't—"
"Ah, but I do. I begin work on my cabin within the week. Need to get it built before the first snowfall, don't you agree?"
Chapter Eight
Furious, Natalie tightened her jaw and her green eyes blazed. Brushing past him with no further comment, she rushed into her private chambers and tore off the long black robe, angrily flinging it down on her desk. Snatching her sensible gray bonnet from the coat tree, she shoved it onto her head, grabbed up her reticule, and stormed out the side door.
Moments later Natalie sat regally in the uncomfortable sidesaddle atop her bay stallion, Blaze. Her composed face belying her shock and anger, she guided the big mount out of the livery stables.
Men stood about on the wooden sidewalks, talking excitedly of the unexpected turn of events that had taken place in the Castleton County Courthouse. They turned to stare when Natalie rode the big beast into the street and rounded the corner. Determined she'd not let anyone know the depth of her despair, Natalie nodded and smiled, as though she were out for a Sunday ride.
The serene smile remained in place, but the green eyes were stormy when they fell on the tall, lean man lounging against the colored barber pole on the east side of Main. All alone, away from the crowd, Kane Covington, gray jacket hooked o
ver a thumb and slung over a wide shoulder, stood indolently surveying her.
Natalie looked straight ahead, riding slowly past him, and let out a breath of relief when she reached the north edge of town. Turning onto Paradise Road, Natalie slapped the reins on Blaze's sleek flanks and urged him into a canter. By the time she reached Ranch Road and started the ascent up to Cloud West, she was muttering to herself.
Ashlin would be far away when I so desperately need him! Why did he choose to go to Denver at a time like this? What on earth am I going to do about that thieving, lowdown…
Natalie quickly decided. She would visit Tahomah. She had to tell him what had happened. He'd know what to do.
Dressed in tight-fitting doeskin pants that were as soft as velvet, a comfortable poncho, leather boots and gloves, her red-gold hair freed of restraints and falling about her shoulders, Natalie buckled a leather gunbelt around her hips. Assuring her housekeeper, Jane, that she would be back come morning, she hurried to the stables to resaddle Blaze.
She rode astride, enjoying the feel of powerful, responsive horseflesh between her long, trousered legs. Barely touching the heels of her boots to the stallion, she spoke his name and he bolted away toward the southeast, as if he knew where they were going.
Natalie let him have his head and leaned low over his neck, feeling her body become an extension of the stallion's. A rush of exhilaration spread through her.
It was a warm, glorious autumn day in the high country; color-change season. Rose-colored mountain laurel carpeted the broad open meadow. And high above, mountain sumac colored the rising slopes with scarlet foliage and clusters of dark red fruit. There were even a few lingering alpine gold flowers dotting the meadows with vivid yellows… long past their blooming season.
In minutes horse and rider had crossed the wide upland valley and were rapidly leaving the plateau behind, ascending the soaring Promontory Point. The thin air cooled instantly as the pair plunged into the dark forest of towering trees.