by Bobbi Smith
"So while you were here in the Gold Bar, Hale's ramblings didn't bother you?"
"No, I don't pay much attention to drunks, although I have to admit the man did have a point with his views on Indians. From what I've seen of them, they're little better than filthy predators."
"Do you include your own scouts in that assessment?" Charles pressed.
The colonel pinned him with an icy, furious glare. If Brand is the one who slit Hale's throat, then he deserves whatever he gets."
"But isn't Brand your son-in-law? Don't you know him well enough to know whether he's guilty or not?"
"My daughters long dead. He's no relation of mine," Hancock said venomously, the look in his eyes growing wilder. "I don't care if they string him up today! It's what he deserves!"
A rumble of agreement came from the others in the saloon.
"But what about justice?" Charles insisted,
"Did Hale have any justice?" one of the others yelled, interrupting. "The hell with justicewe want what's right!"
"Yeah!" another man called out, inciting the others further. "Let's get a rope and string him up!"
"You're supposed to be the civilized ones," Charles said, trying to calm them. "There's nothing civilized about a lynching."
"Except maybe the outcome," the barkeep put in, his eyes glowing at the thought of seeing the half-breed swing.
Charles started from the saloon, hoping that once he was gone, everyone would calm down. He returned to the newspaper office to find Sheri and Maureen waiting for him.
"What did you find out?" Sheri asked the minute he'd come inside.
"Nothing that's going to help us. I did run into the colonel, and he'd already been to the jail to talk with the sheriff."
"So, Brand's free now?" Sheri said excitedly.
"No. According to Hancock, he had no contact with Brand after they broke up the fight. That leaves the night unaccounted for and no witnesses to back up Brand's claim of innocence." Charles looked tired. "I don't know where to look next or who to talk to, but I can tell you one thingthe colonel is a frightening man."
"Why?"
"He hates Indians, and Brand in particular, with a passion. He doesn't even claim him as kin, despite the fact that Brand was married to his daughter. He's over there now, saying that Brand deserves whatever he gets and that it wouldn't bother him if they went ahead and strung him up."
"Do you think they will?" Sheri felt panic rise within her.
"I don't know. It's hard to tell what men will do if they get too much liquor in them."
"Maybe I'd better . . ." Sheri was looking desperate. If they formed a mob and set out to hang Brand, it would be too late for her to do anything. She had to help him now.
"You'd better what?" Maureen asked, frowning at the look of distress on her cousin's face. "What are you thinking about doing?"
She straightened her shoulders as she stood up to leave the newspaper office. "I have to talk to the sheriff again."
"Why?"
"Because I know Brand is innocent."
"So do we, but we have to prove it."
"I can." She met the looks of surprise and confusion they gave her calmly.
"How?"
"There is a witness who knows exactly where Brand was until dawn."
"Who?" Maureen was shocked at this information.
"Who?" Charles parroted. "I want to interview him."
"It's me. Brand was with me all night."
Chapter Sixteen
Brand, the Half-Breed Scout, or Trail of the Renegade
The Getaway
The warriors found their dead friends and were furious. The women had escaped, but they were not capable of killing this way. Someone else had done the killing. The renegades would track them down and make them pay for what they'd done!
Brand, Rachel, and Mercy had been traveling continually since leaving the cave. Even though Rachel was in pain, Brand knew it was not safe to rest. More of the raiding party could be coming after them. He would take no chances with their safety.
"Is it far to the fort?" Mercy asked.
"It will take us another day, if we keep moving the way we are."
The women were relieved to hear that there was only one more day of travel. They could make it. They were with Brand.
They camped that night in a secluded spot, high in the mountains. Rachel was feeling weak and feverish, but she said nothing. She would not hinder their rescue. Brand was counting on her to be strong. At dawn, they moved out again.
It was near midday, just as they were about to leave the mountains, when Brand sensed that all was not as it should be. He kept a wary watch on the hills behind them, hoping for some hint of the raiding party's location, but saw nothing.
The attack came suddenly and viciously. Brand knew just what he had to do.
"Rachel! Merry! Ride due west and don't stop or look back!"
"Brand!" Rachel cried out as Mercy kicked the horse into a run.
The mount charged forward, and Brand was left alone to fight the renegades. . . .
"You?" Maureen was shocked as she stared at Sheri. "He was with you?"
Sheri nodded. "That's why I've got to go to the sheriff now and tell him the truth. I can't let anything happen to Brand. I'd never forgive myself." She paused as she looked at Charles and Maureen. They were staring at her as if she were crazy.
"You're making this up, right?" Charles asked, still stunned by her revelation.
"No, Charles, I'm not," she answered, meeting his regard squarely and without embarrassment. "I love Brand."
"Enough to lie for him?"
"I'm not lying," she protested in frustration. "I was standing at the window of my room and I saw him in the alley below. He came to me then, and he stayed because I wanted him to."
"Oh, my," Maureen said, trying to decide whether to smile or be shocked. She had waited all these years for Sheri to fall in love, and now that she'd really done it, nothing was working out right. She looked at Charles. "We need to go with her."
"No!" Sheri said sharply. "I'll be all right."
"Are you sure?" Maureen went to her and hugged her supportively.
"I'm sure." Her expression was troubled. "I'd better hurry. I don't want to take the chance that something might happen to him. I can't risk it."
"We'll wait here for you."
She nodded; then, girding herself for what was to come, she marched from the newspaper office. She would do whatever was necessary to save Brand. There was no doubt in her mind.
Sheri swallowed nervously as she neared the sheriff's office. She'd had to pass the Gold Bar Saloon on her way there, and she had heard the shouting and swearing as the men inside talked of stringing Brand up. Their threats only quickened her pace. She wiped her hands nervously on the skirt of her gown and then walked right in to face the lawman.
Sheriff Warren almost groaned when he saw it was her. One of the deputies had told him there was trouble brewing down at the Gold Bar, and the last thing he needed right now was this lady back aggravating him.
"Miss St. John," he greeted her. "What can I do for you now?"
"Sheriff Warren, I need to talk to you. It's important."
"If it's about the officers from the fort, I've already talked to Colonel Hancock, and he was unable to help with an alibi for Brand."
"I heard that, and it's for that reason that I came back to talk to you again. I need to tell you the truth. I know where Brand was all night, and he wasn't out murdering Marcus Hale."
"Where was he?"
"Brand spent the night with me." She all but blurted it out.
Sheriff Warren stared at her, amazed at the lengths she was going to, to save the half-breed. "You're saying Brand was with you?"
"Yes, sir. He was with me in my room at the hotel." She was firm and unwavering.
Sheri wasn't sure what she expected from the manscorn, maybe. Sneering condemnation. Those she could have handled. What she got outraged her.
"Little lady," he said con
descendingly. "I got big trouble brewing here over this killing. I know what you're trying to do, but it doesn't do any good to lie about such things."
"But it's the truth."
"I don't know what it is about this half-breed that makes white women go so crazy about him. I mean, first Becky Hancock and now you, but I'm telling you, he ain't worth lying about and ruining your reputation."
"But . . .!" She could not believe he was scoffing at her.
"Miss St. John, you Easterners come out here thinking you know everything about everything, and you don't. For sure, you don't know a damned thing about the Apache or about half-breeds. You ain't never lived with them. You don't know how they think or act. So you ought to just pack yourself up and head on back where you belong. This ain't one of your books, lady."
Sheri was beyond furious as she glared at him. "If it was one of my books, you can be assured that I would have written in a smarter sheriff!"
He tensed at her insult, his patience with her at an end. "I got a job to do. I don't need you here getting in the way if things turn ugly. Now, go on back to your hotel and stay there."
"If anything happens to Brand . . ." she threatened.
"It will be because you kept me from doing my job," he snarled at her.
Sheri was ready to scream in frustration. She glanced toward the closed door to the cells and wondered what to do next. She had been Brand's only hope. She'd been telling the truth, yet the sheriff didn't believe her. There had to be some way she could help Brand. She would not stand idly by and watch the man she loved be hanged for a murder he didn't commit.
The sheriff turned his back on her to get a rifle out of his rifle case, and it was then that Sheri saw them. . . . His extra set of keys were lying on the desk beneath a few sheets of paper. She knew he kept one set on him at all times, for he'd told her so that day he'd given them the tour. Without making a sound,
she snatched up the keys and started from the office.
''I'm holding you responsible for Brand's safety, sheriff. He's an innocent man."
Warren didn't respond, but took out his rifle, checked to make sure it was loaded, and then closed and locked the case. He set it next to the desk as he sat back down.
"It's been real interesting visiting with you, Miss St. John. I do not plan on repeating that little story you made up just to save the breed. I suggest you don't either." His words were terse as he watched her walk from the office, her head held high.
Sheri might have lost this round, but somehow, some way, she was going to save Brand. She did have the keys.
Maureen and Charles were waiting for her in the newspaper office. They both looked up when she walked in.
"Where's Brand? Is he coming after you?" Maureen asked, trying to read her cousin's strange expression.
"The sheriff didn't believe me," she told them in disgust.
"He didn't?" Maureen knew she sounded like a simpleton, but she couldn't believe what Sheri was saying.
"He said he didn't know why white women wanted half-breeds. He said I shouldn't repeat my story again, and that he wouldn't repeat it either. I don't know what to do next." The look she gave Maureen and Charles was worried. "He said there was trouble brewing down at the saloon, and he's concerned about what might happen. So . . . when I had the chance, I took these. . . ."
She opened her hand to show them the keys she'd been clutching.
"You didn't!"
"I did, but I don't know what to do. Do I wait and make sure that there's not going to be a mob going after Brand to hang him, or do I break him out now and make sure he stays alive?"
"You're really thinking about a jailbreak?" Charles was astounded at her daring.
"I will not sit by and watch Brand die for something I know he didn't do. If I can save him, I will."
"You're one hell of a woman, Sheri," he said with respect.
"Well, I haven't done anything yet. Let's see what happens next. Do you have horses we could use?"
"They put Brand's up at the stable, and you can take mine."
"What about supplies? If I get him out of there, we're going to need a gun, ammunition, food, and canteens."
"'We'?" Maureen went still. "What do you mean 'we'? You're not thinking of doing anything crazy, like going with him, are you?"
Sheri looked her straight in the eye. "If you think I'm going to break him out and then stay behind while he runs alone, you're wrong. I'll be as wanted as he is. They'll be after me, too."
"This is insane."
"This whole situation is. If I wrote it in one of my books, Tim De Young would probably tell me that it was too far-fetched and that it lacked authenticity!"
Maureen and Sheri both laughed at how ridiculous everything that had happened in New York suddenly seemed. Charles only stared at them, confused.
"Who's Tim De Young?" he asked.
"My editor," Sheri answered, still managing a smile.
"Sheri . . ." Maureen turned serious. The time for laughter was over. "For God's sake, be careful."
"I will. You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't a matter of life or death. They want Brand dead, and I'm the only one who can save him."
Maureen had always respected Sheri's courage, but never more so than she did now. She hugged her impulsively.
"What can we do to help you?"
"The big thing will be distracting the sheriff so I can go in through the back door and break Brand out."
"I can help with that," Charles offered. "I'll go down to the saloon and see what's going on. I'll send word to the sheriff to get down there, that there's trouble brewing and he needs to calm everybody down."
"Thanks, Charles. I don't know what we would have done without you."
"I'm glad you didn't have to find out. You be careful, though. This may not work, but if it does, they'll be coming after you as soon as they realize he's gone."
"I know, but Brand's good. If anybody can escape and hide his trail, he can."
"If it works and you two get away, how will I know how you are? What should we do?" Maureen asked.
"We have to find out who really killed Marcus Hale. Until we know that, Brand doesn't have a chance."
"We'll keep working on it," Charles said. "If we find out something, how can we get in touch with you?"
Sheri was quiet for a minute. "There's only one person Brand trusts, and that's O'Toole. Tell him whatever you can find out. He'll know what to do."
"We will. I promise," Maureen told her.
"Go back to your room and get what you need to take with you. I'll go see about the horses for you and tie them up somewhere back behind the jail where they're not too obvious. Then I'll head down to the Gold Bar. Where will you be?" Charles asked.
"I'll keep watch from down the street. When I see the sheriff leave the office, I'll go in after him."
"I'm going with you," Maureen volunteered.
"No you're not," Sheri returned immediately. "I won't have you in danger because of me. This is my plan, and I'll live with the consequences. You stay here out of trouble or go up to your room. I can't be worrying about you, too. Right now I have to save Brand."
"All right, but I want to help."
"Then find the man who killed Marcus Hale."
With that, they put their plan into action.
"Sheriff! They sent me down here to get you. There's trouble brewing down at the saloon!" A young boy stuck his head in the jail and yelled at the lawman.
"What kind of trouble?"
"They said it looked like some of the men are trying to form a lynch mob and you'd better hurry!"
Warren muttered vilely under his breath as he stood up and got his rifle. If Sullivan wanted him, there was something going on. "Let's go."
He stopped only long enough to lock up the office,
then followed the boy down the street. He'd been worried that something like this would happen all day, and now that it was almost dark, it sounded like all hell was about to break loose.
Sheri had been watching and waiting for the chance to make her move. She'd changed into her riding clothes and had packed the few things they'd need while on the run. She didn't know where Brand would take her, and she didn't care as long as he was safe from the hangman's noose.
The minute Sheriff Warren had gone, Sheri made her way to the back of the jail. She said a silent prayer that she had the keys she needed as she started to unlock the alley door. Her prayer was answered. She had the door opened in no time.
"What the . . .?" Brand was starled and jumped to his feet when the door swung open. "Sheri!" he whispered her name in shock. ''What are you doing here?"
"I'm breaking you out!" She wasted no time talking, but quickly unlocked his cell and threw the door wide. "Let's go! There isn't much time."
"I can't run. It'll just make me look even more guilty." He remained standing in the cell.
"There's a mob forming down at the saloon that wants to see you hang. Do you plan to wait around and see if the sheriff can control them or do you want to get out of here?"
"But I didn't do it. If I break out . . ."
"Brand, I told the sheriff the truth this afternoon. I told him you were with me all night, and he didn't believe me. We have to get you out of here! We're never going to find Hale's murderer with you locked up!"
He knew she was right, but he hated to do it. He was innocent.
"All right. Let's go."
Sheri hurried to replace the keys where she'd found them earlier that day. Then they went out the back door and shut it tightly behind them. As she led Brand to where the two horses were tied, he frowned at her.
"You're not coming with me," he stated flatly, fearing she would be hurt.
"I'm not staying here and getting thrown in jail for breaking you out. I'm just as wanted by the law as you are right now, so you'd better get me out of town and keep me safe. Come on! We haven't got much time!"
He swore under his breath as he helped her up on her horse, then mounted his own. "Well walk them out. It's quieter. Stay right with me. If there's any trouble, any trouble at all, I want you to surrender. I don't want you hurt."
She nodded, and when he led the way, she was by his side.
Marcus Hale's friends were in a fury as they sat drinking together in the saloon. They even had a rope and were practicing making a noose.