Renegade's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  Drained of emotion, yet still worrying about Brand, she stowed her writing materials and crept forward to look down the canyon for some sign that he was returning. It seemed an eternity since he'd left her. For certain, more than two hours had passed, and yet there was no sign of him. She wondered what she should do, but she remembered his promise. He had said he would be back, and he never lied to her.

  Sheri settled back down on the hard ground to wait even longer. It wasn't easy being patient, but she would do it. Brand was coming back. He'd said he was, and she believed him.

  Another hour passed before she heard the sound of horses coming. Her first instinct was to jump up immediately and start yelling. Then common sense took over as it occurred to her that it might not be Brand returning. Ever so cautiously, she drew the revolver he'd given her and moved to get a look at the area below.

  Sheri saw them immediately. Brand, Philip, and Sheriff Warren were in the lead. The others were following, several who looked as if they were grievously wounded. Even Sergeant O'Toole seemed slumped in the saddle. Brand looked up her way then, and she stood, revealing her position.

  "Brand!" she shouted, bolstering the gun and then waving at him excitedly. Her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm as she realized that he was unhurt.

  Brand was thrilled to see that she had kept her word to him and had stayed put. He urged his horse forward and scrambled up the steep hillside to reach her. As he neared her, he dismounted and she came into his arms, throwing hers around his neck and kissing him full on the lips right in front of everyone.

  "Thank God you're all right!" she cried, hugging him close.

  "I told you I'd come back for you," he said in a low voice for her ears only.

  Philip and the sheriff were coming up right behind him, but the others had waited below.

  Brand and Sheri broke apart, aware of the other two men nearby.

  "Sheri," Philip greeted her with a smile. "It's good to see that you're unhurt."

  "I did exactly what Brand told me to do. I stayed put."

  "Good advice. It got ugly down there," he told her. "Brand was a hero. He saved us all."

  She gazed up at Brand with love shining in her eyes. "I know."

  "Let's get your horse," Brand said, uncomfortable with the praise. "Some of the others were shot, and we've got to get back to the fort as quickly as we can."

  "The fort?"

  "It's closer. There's a doctor there. He'll be able to take care of them," Philip explained. "And we've got the guardhouse where . . ."

  "Where what?" Sheri demanded, suddenly outraged by what she realized was going to happen. "You're not planning on locking Brand up again, are you?"

  "Sheri, he's been arrested on murder charges and escaped from jail. We have to take him back in."

  "But I'm the one who broke him out! Arrest me!"

  "I made arrangements with Sheriff warren," Brand told her. "You're not going to be charged with any crime."

  "And You shouldn't be either!"

  "Until we can prove his innocence, we have to keep him locked up."

  "But he didn't do it!" she protested, wondering why no one would believe her. "I already told you, sheriff, that Brand was with me that night." She went to stand before the two of them, where they still sat on their mounts. "Why won't you believe me?"

  Both men looked at Brand for confirmation.

  "Sheri can't vouch for me that night," Brand said tersely.

  "What?" She gasped and spun around to glare at him, thinking that he was crazy.

  But Brand wasn't looking at her. He was looking straight at Philip, who was returning his regard, a very serious expression on his face.

  "This is absurd! Why are you doing this?" Sheri asked Brand.

  "We aren't certain of Brand's whereabouts that night, so we'll keep him locked up until we can arrest the real killer," Philip said. He had seen the truth in the other man's eyes and knew Brand would rather die than disgrace Sheri. He would protect her virtue with his life. Philip's admiration for him grew even more, and he wondered how he could have been so prejudiced against him. Brand was a good soldier and a gentleman.

  "I'll get your horse, Sheri. We need to get back to McDowell," Brand told her, then walked away.

  Frustration filled her. She didn't understand why he was doing this. If only they would listen to her, everything would be fine. He would be a free man. She rushed to Philip's side.

  "Philip, you have to understand. Brand and I were together that night. I don't know what he's doing by denying it . . ."

  "I do," Philip answered seriously. "He's protecting you. Don't worry, Sheri. We're going to get the man who murdered Hale, and when we do, Brand will be proven innocent."

  Sheriff Warren wanted to reassure her, too. "Things will be quieter when we get back to town. There won't be any lynch mobs. I'll make sure he's safe, and as soon as we find the real killer, he'll be released."

  Tears burned in Sheri's eyes. She'd known she would be ruining her reputation by publicly admitting that she and Brand had spent the night together, but that hadn't seemed to matter. She wanted Brand free. The men, however, were determined to keep her out of it. Even on his way to jail, Brand was keeping her safe.

  Chapter Twenty

  Brand, the Half-Breed Scout, or Trail of the Renegade

  Love's Sacrifice

  Brand gazed down at Rachel's fever-flushed features and felt a stirring of emotion deep inside him. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He had never known anyone like her. She was brave. She had fought him when she'd thought he was the enemy. She had saved his life and been wounded for her effort. She had never complained throughout the whole ordeal of returning to the fort, and now she lay seriously ill, and he could do nothing more to help her.

  "Rachel . . . I brought Brand to see you, just like you asked," Mercy said quietly.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at him. "Brand . . ." His name was a whisper. "Brand . . . you're safe now. . . ."

  "We just rode back in. I wanted to see you and make sure you were all right."

  "You saved our lives. . . . Thank you . . ."

  He was amazed that, as sick as she was, she was thanking him. She was the one who had saved his life. He bent down closer to her. "I'm the one who should be thanking you. You saved me."

  She managed a weak smile, then drifted off into a feverish sleep.

  "We'd better go and let her rest," Mercy said softly. "The doctor says there's nothing more we can do but to keep her as cool as possible and wait for this to pass."

  "Let me know how she does, all right?" he asked, his concern very real.

  Brand cared about her, though he knew he shouldn't. He knew nothing would ever come of it. She was a white woman, and he was a halfbreed. But even though he was fighting against the attraction he felt for her with all his being, there could be no denying that Rachel had won a place in his heart.

  Charles was frustrated. He'd spent the whole day trying to track down the maid who'd been working at the hotel where the colonel and the lieutenant had stayed the night of Hale's murder. It had been her day off and finding her had proven to be impossible. He had to wait until the next afternoon for her to show up at the hotel before he could question her. He hoped his hunch proved right, but he wouldn't be able to find out for another day.

  He was taking Maureen to dinner and was looking forward to it. She was definitely going to be the bright spot in his day. Knocking on the door to her room, he was pleased to find she was ready to go. She looked lovely in a dark blue gown that highlighted her pale complexion and the fairness of her hair.

  ''You look beautiful," he complimented her, his eyes warm upon her as they settled in at the restaurant.

  "Why, thank you," she told him with a smile. "I was looking forward to seeing you tonight. It's been a long, lonely day."

  "I understand, believe me."

  "Why? What happened? Did you talk to the maid yet?"

  "No. She's
gone until tomorrow, and no one knew where to find her. I checked in about four different places before I gave up. The only good news is that the posse isn't back yet, so I'm hoping Brand and Sheri are still safe."

  "I hope so. I'm so frustrated and scared. It seems all I do is worry about Sheri. She could be killed out there! You heard the colonel. The way he sounded, he didn't care if they were brought back dead or alive."

  "I know. I'm just hoping, since O'Toole and Lieutenant Long are with them, that they won't shoot first and ask questions later."

  Maureen shuddered at the thought. "There are times when I wish we'd never come to this godforsaken place! We've had nothing but heartache since we got here."

  Charles had been feeling good about the way their relationship was developing. He'd even hoped that she might have come to change the way she felt about the Territory, but everything that had happened just seemed to make things worse for her. He didn't blame her one bit for feeling that way. She'd had a rough trip West.

  "I'm sorry it's been so difficult for you. This is a tough, untamed place, but what you and Sheri have experienced is unusual."

  She saw the shadow of disappointment in his eyes and realized that something she'd said had hurt him. "There have been some good things, too. I got to meet you."

  He smiled slightly, then said derisively, "And a lot of good I've done you. First, I get shot by the raiding party when we're out on the scout and you're stuck nursing me back to health, and now I think I know how to identify Hale's killer and save Brand and Sheri, yet there's no one way to interview the witness. And even if I did, there's no one around to tell."

  "But you're trying to help," she said. "That's more than most people have done. Everyone else has been ready to lynch Brand."

  "It did look bad in the beginning. I don't blame Sheri for wanting to break him out. I'm not sure Sheriff Warren really could have kept them away if they'd decided to storm the jail that night."

  "It was very brave of her. She's a remarkable woman."

  "I just hope she comes through this all right."

  "So do I. I love her a lot. If it hadn't been for Sheri,

  "I would still be back in New York. She's the one who brings out the best in me."

  "She is a rare woman, but then, so are you," he told her, gazing at her across the table. In the candlelight, she looked even lovelier than usual, and he remembered collecting his winnings and wondered if she was up to another hand of poker. He would certainly enjoy winning again.

  "Thank you." She smiled at him. She had come to care for Charles a great deal. When the time came for her to go back to New York with Sheri, she was going to miss him a lot.

  "No need to thank me. I'm the newspaperman, remember? I just tell the who, what, when, where, and why of things. Journalists don't lie."

  "I'm going to miss you, Charles."

  "And I'm going to miss you." He wanted to say more, to tell her that he loved her and wanted to be with her always, but he held himself back. She was too worried about Sheri to be able to think clearly about anything else right now. He would wait until the time was right to speak to her of love and commitment. "Well, we'd better enjoy what time we have together, then, shouldn't we?"

  And they did. They had a delicious meal that night and then he accompanied her back to her hotel room.

  "I'll see you tomorrow?"

  "Of course. Do you know when you're supposed to meet with the maid?"

  "In the afternoon some time. I have to check back at that hotel and find out when the woman's coming in."

  "Can I go with you?"

  "I'd like that."

  She started to go inside her room, but Charles touched her arm to stop her.

  "Maureen . . . ?"

  "Yes, Charles?" She turned to glance at him and saw the heat in his gaze. It took no more encouragement than that for her to take a step toward him.

  Charles took her in his embrace and in the silence of the hallway, he kissed her. His lips moved hungrily over hers, letting her know without words how much she was coming to mean to him, and Maureen responded with equal eagerness.

  "Good night," he said quietly, when they finally broke apart and he had to force himself to leave.

  "Good night."

  They parted sweetly. Maureen went inside and retired for the night. As she lay in bed, thoughts of Charles's kiss kept her awake. She wondered if he cared about her. She wondered, too, how she was going to bear to leave him when the time came for them to return home. Rest was long in coming.

  Charles found that Marguerite Sanchez had been worth the wait. He and Maureen sought her out at the hotel the following afternoon, and she seemed nervous that he wanted to talk to her.

  "Have I done something wrong, sir?" she asked, fearful of losing her job.

  "No, nothing like that. I just have a few questions for you. That's all."

  "All right . . ." She was tentative, but agreed to talk to him.

  "Do you remember the night when Marcus Hale was killed?"

  "Oh, yes, sir."

  "It was a terrible thing, him being killed that way."

  "I know . . . I heard them talking about it." Her color faded and she swallowed nervously. "But what does that have to do with me?"

  "What I'm interested in finding out . . ."

  She waited, her eyes wide, her manner nervous.

  "When you were cleaning the rooms the following morning, did you find anything unusual in any of them?"

  "Unusual?" She frowned, not understanding what he was looking for. "I don't understand."

  "Blood, for example. Did you find anything bloody in any of the rooms?"

  "Oh . . ." She looked really frightened now. "Yes, sir. There was, but I didn't think anything of it."

  "What did you find?"

  "Well, sir, in one room, there was a towel with some blood smeared on it, and the water in the washstand was bloody."

  Maureen gasped at the revelation. "Didn't you think that was strange?"

  "No. I just thought the colonel cut himself shaving or something. . . ."

  "So, it was in Colonel Hancock's room?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Charles felt triumphant at her answer. "Marguerite, you're wonderful. Thank you."

  "That's all you wanted?"

  "That's all for now, but stay close to town. As soon as the sheriff gets back, I want you to talk to him. Your story could help to free an innocent man."

  "Good. I will, sir. I will stay close."

  "Thanks."

  With that she disappeared to go back to work, leaving Charles and Maureen alone. In a spontaneous act of excitement, Charles grabbed Maureen around the waist and spun her around in a complete circle.

  "That's it! We've done it! Once we tell the sheriff of her testimony, he'll have something to go after Hancock with!"

  Maureen felt like celebrating, too, and she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

  "What was that for?" He was shocked.

  "Because I think you're wonderful, Charles Brennan!" She looked up at him in awe, admiring his hard work and brilliance.

  He actually blushed.

  "You know, when Sheri gets back here, I may just have her change her hero's name to Charles! How would you like being the hero in a novel?"

  "I'd love it . . . As long as you were my heroine . . . He hadn't meant to say it so soon, but it was too late to take the words back now. He drew her closer to him, seeking her lips with his in a poignant, breathless kiss.

  A noise down the hall jarred them apart and they were laughing as they left the hotel.

  "Now, if only the posse would get back," he said worriedly.

  Hancock had been drinking steadily for days. No one had caught him in the act, but those who had dealings with him had said that the smell of whiskey on his breath was unmistakable and that his temper was hotter than ever. Most elected to stay out of his way, or if called upon to do duty, did it as quickly and quietly as possible. They had seen his rages
before and knew how ugly they could be.

  "The posse's coming!" the shout went out.

  An enlisted man hastened to knock on Hancock's door. "Sir!"

  "What is it?" he bellowed.

  The man opened the door to tell him the news. "The posse is on its way into the fort, sir."

  Hancock's expression had been black, but hearing this, he suddenly smiled. It was not a smile of happiness, though. It was a smile of cunning. He rose from his desk.

  "Thank you, corporal."

  The corporal quickly closed the door and resumed his duties.

  Hancock strode to his window and stared out, watching as the straggling group rode in. From this distance, he couldn't recognize anyone. He saw one body thrown over a horse's back and hoped it was Brand's. Nothing would please him more today than to see the bastard dead. As far as the woman went, he didn't care what had happened to her. He straightened his uniform and started from his office. He was more than ready to greet the sheriff and to speak with Long and O'Toole.

  The first person he saw when he strode toward the exhausted riders was Brand, riding in next to Long. A vile curse rose in his throat, but he choked it back. He fought down the fury that threatened to erupt. The man was obviously under arrest. He would have to be satisfied with that.

  "Lieutenant Long!" he called out. "I see it was very wise of me to send you and the others along with the sheriff. You found them."

  Long was careful to keep his expression from revealing what he was thinking. "Yes, sir. We found them both."

  "Is he the one who ambushed you and shot the others?" He was almost gleeful at the prospect. All the more reason to rush the breed to the gallows. They could string him up tonight, if they wanted to.

  Long tensed at Hancock's words. He slowly dismounted, casting a quick glance toward Brand and Sheri, who were riding up behind him. "No, sir. Actually, we were ambushed by an Apache raiding party. Brand came to our rescue. If it hadn't been for him, we'd probably all be dead."

  Hancock went still at the news, and his regard was icy with hatred as he looked at Brand. "Whether he helped you or not, he still killed Hale. Take him to the guardhouse now, lieutenant, and I want a guard posted on him at all times. You can't trust him."