Cade

Home > Romance > Cade > Page 5
Cade Page 5

by Margery Scott


  "Don't be ridiculous," he spat out. "Why would I kill Bessie Morgan?"

  "Then why would he accuse you?"

  "I have no idea. His family has always had a grudge against me. For no good reason, I might add."

  "So you didn't go to the Morgan house that afternoon?"

  Edward sighed. "Isabella, this really isn't anything to concern yourself with—"

  "Please, Edward, tell me the truth. I guarantee nothing you can tell me will change how I feel about you …" At least that wasn't a lie. "I do want our marriage to be completely open and honest," she went on, smiling sweetly even though inside her stomach was roiling. "You did kill her, didn't you?"

  "Shut up, Isabella. This is none of your business."

  "As your wife it most certainly is. Now tell me." She moved so close her face almost touched his. Their eyes met, and she knew the truth. "You did it. I can tell."

  Edward gripped her arm and pulled her toward a corner. "And if I did?" he asked.

  "I … you really murdered her …?"

  "She deserved it. Leading me on the way she did. Pretending she was grief-stricken, looking for comfort—"

  "She'd just buried Cade's father."

  "I tried to comfort her, but she pushed me away." His voice lowered. "Nobody pushes me away. Remember that."

  "You raped her." The words came out on a rush of air. "And then you killed her."

  "Believe me, one word about this to anyone and the same thing will happen to you."

  Isabella felt the blood drain from her face.

  "Besides," he went on, a sudden smile creasing his face, "there's nothing you can do about it."

  Isabella raised her hand, and suddenly, two men appeared from behind the curtain covering the entrance to the choir pit. One had a gun aimed at Edward's chest. "Yes, she can."

  "What … who the hell …?" Edward shouted.

  "Let me introduce myself. John Cooper. Sheriff of Elm Creek. And this is Trey Morgan, Bessie Morgan's nephew." He glanced over at Isabella. "Are you okay, Miss Morrow?"

  Edward smiled. "It's Mrs. Dobson," he said confidently. "Isabella is my wife now. She can't testify against me, and you couldn't hear anything from where you've been hiding."

  "Come on out, Zane," the sheriff called into the empty church.

  Zane strode down the aisle, tearing off the white collar he'd been wearing around his neck. He stopped in front of Edward. "Did I forget to tell you I'm not really a preacher?" he asked innocently.

  Edward turned to Isabella, his face practically purple with rage. "You … bitch …"

  Isabella smiled sweetly. "Why, thank you. That's probably the nicest name you would have called me during our whole marriage."

  "Dobson, you're under arrest for the rape and murder of Bessie Morgan," she sheriff said, gesturing toward the door with his gun. "Move."

  Cade paced the room, his gut churning. He never should have let Bella go through with this. Dobson was a dangerous man, and who knew what he'd do once he found out he'd been tricked. If the sheriff got detained … if Bella didn't handle him right … if Zane slipped up …

  The possibilities of the whole thing going wrong scared him more than anything ever had in his whole life.

  The knock at the door startled him. He drew his gun, crossed the carpet. "Who is it?"

  "It's me," Bella's soft voice answered.

  Cade holstered his gun as he threw open the door and pulled her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. She began to speak, but he wrapped his arms around her and silenced her with a kiss that he hoped showed her exactly how terrified he'd been at the thought of losing her.

  Finally, he loosened his hold, but he couldn't bring himself to completely release her. His breathing came in short ragged puffs, and his heart pounded in his chest.

  "Cade, it's over," Bella said softly. "Edward is in jail, and he'll hang for what he did."

  A sudden release of tension washed over him. They'd won. After all the years of hate, he'd finally gotten justice for his mother.

  But it wasn't over yet. He'd been thinking about it during the hours he'd spent waiting in the hotel room. He had no future with Bella. Not yet.

  "Bella, there's one more thing I have to do," he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the hotel room and down the stairs.

  "What?"

  "I have to turn myself in. I can't give you any kind of life with the robbery and kidnapping hanging over my head—"

  "No," she gushed. "I can deny the kidnapping. My father can tell Mr. Wick to deny it, too. I'm sure the stagecoach driver can be persuaded to keep quiet. Nobody else knows what really happened--"

  "No. I won't having people lying for me. There's been too much lying already."

  "Then let's just go away--" Bella's eyes filled with tears, and it took all Cade's strength not to give in.

  "I won't do that. I won't spend my life on the run, and I won't ask you to do that either. If I go to prison for a while, that's the way it has to be."

  "Please, Cade, don't do this."

  "I have to. If you still want me when I'm free …" He let his voice trail off. He didn't expect her to wait for him, but God help him, he prayed she would.

  "I will. You know I will." She reached up and kissed him long and hard.

  "Will you come with me to the sheriff's office?" he asked a few minutes later.

  She nodded. "I'll go anywhere with you."

  "Then let's go.

  The saloon serving as the courtroom for the trial was packed. Edward's trial the day before had been short. He'd been found guilty of murdering Bessie Morgan and was awaiting execution in the town jail.

  Again early that morning, the circuit judge had arrived and was now seated behind the bar. Chairs and tables had also been arranged for the prosecution, defense and witnesses.

  Isabella sat perched on the edge of a chair near the table where Cade's lawyer, Jeremiah Peterson, was arranging papers on the scarred wooden table.

  Conversation halted for a moment as the saloon doors swung open. Isabella looked on as Cade, Zane and Trey were led in handcuffs to his lawyer's table. She'd been surprised when Zane and Trey had turned themselves in. They were family, they'd told her. And family stuck together no matter what.

  Cade sent her an encouraging smile as he passed, but she sensed the nervousness he was trying so hard to hide.

  Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that it was difficult to hear the voices around her.

  The judged banged a gavel on the bar. "Let's have some order in here."

  The voices faded away. "Let's get started," the judge said to the crowd. "Sheriff, take the stand."

  The sheriff rose and crossed to the witness chair. The judge swore him in and the questioning began. All morning witnesses testified, the story the same. Cade and two unidentified men had held up the stagecoach and abducted Isabella Morrow.

  Finally, the prosecution was finished. The judge turned to Cade's lawyer. "Jeremiah, call your first witness."

  First, the stagecoach driver testified. Yes, he'd been held at gunpoint. No, he hadn't been hurt.

  Next, Mr. Wick was called to the stand. He agreed with the stagecoach driver about the order of events. "Were you robbed?" Mr. Peterson asked.

  "Yes. That is … well …"

  "Were you robbed or not?" Mr. Peterson pressed.

  "Well, we were robbed," he began.

  "So you didn't get your belongings back?"

  "Well, yes, we did. Before they left, they told us they were leaving our things a mile down the trail."

  "And did they?"

  Mr. Wick nodded.

  "So you weren't really robbed."

  There was a pause. "No, I suppose we weren't. But he did shoot me."

  "Really?" Jeremiah asked. "Where?"

  Mr. Wick's face reddened. "Well … he didn't shoot me exactly, but he did shoot at me. He shot the gun out of my hand."

  "So you weren't hurt?"

  "No."

  "We've heard test
imony that Mr. Morgan is practically a sharpshooter. So wouldn't it be fair to assume that he deliberately shot the gun out of your hand so you couldn't shoot him, that if he'd wanted to shoot you, he could have."

  "Well … yes, I suppose, but --"

  "Thank you, Mr. Wick," Mr. Peterson said. "You're excused." He turned to the judge. "I'd like to call Isabella Morrow to the stand."

  Isabella's throat closed as she got up and made her way across the room. Every eye was on her, but her eyes were on Cade. Would her testimony free him or send him to prison for the rest of his life?

  "Miss Morrow," Jeremiah said. "You were taken against your will by Mr. Morgan, is that correct?"

  What was he doing? "No," she answered.

  His brows lifted. "No? Do you expect this court to believe you went with the defendant willingly?"

  A faint smile teased her lips at the memory. "It's the truth. I did go willingly."

  "Why?"

  She glanced at Cade, his jaw tight, his eyes boring into hers. "Because he promised to keep me safe."

  "Safe from whom?"

  "At the time I didn't know, but … " She paused, smiled at Cade. "I believed him, and as it turned out, he kept that promise."

  "I see," Jeremiah said. "And at any time were you hurt or otherwise held against your will?"

  "No, I was not," she said honestly. "Mr. Morgan told me I was free to leave whenever I chose."

  "Thank you, Miss Morrow."

  Turning to the judge, Jeremiah began to speak. "Your Honor, as you can see, there really was no robbery and no kidnapping. No one was hurt. Mr. Wick and the driver got their possessions back, and Miss Morrow has herself stated that she went willingly with the defendants and she never felt that her life was in danger. In light of Mr. Dobson's subsequent arrest and the defendants' motives for their actions, I beg the court to consider dropping all charges against all three defendants."

  The courtroom was silent as the judge dipped a pen in the inkwell and made a note on the papers in front of him. Finally, he set the pen down and looked out.

  "This is one of the most interesting cases I've presided over in years," he said, lacing his fingers and scanning the defense table. "Although technically there was no robbery and no kidnapping, the law doesn't condone armed men forcing a stagecoach to stop and holding passengers at gunpoint."

  Bella's heart thumped so hard she was sure it was going to explode in her chest. Convinced the judge was going to sentence Cade and his cousins to prison, her throat closed. She couldn't breathe. She was really going to faint.

  "However, upholding the law and rendering justice aren't always the same thing. Sometimes, the law must take into account extenuating circumstances which force normally law-abiding citizens into taking action, especially when those men who are sworn to uphold the law are themselves guilty of breaking the law. In those cases, the court must show mercy.

  "I've looked into the death of Bessie Morgan and the events which followed, and the fact that although Cade Morgan went to the authorities with his suspicions, he was ignored, forcing him to take the matter into his own hands to bring Edward Dobson to justice.

  Therefore, I find the defendants - Cade Morgan, Zane Morgan and Trey Morgan – not guilty."

  As the saloon erupted in cheers, the judge banged his gavel. "Quiet down," he said. "I'm not finished."

  The noise ceased, and the judge continued. "Cade, Zane and Trey, I'm sorry for your loss, and I apologize for the actions of the Silverdale sheriff and for the years you've spent seeking justice. You're all free to go."

  Chairs scraped across the floor as the spectators rushed to congratulate Cade and his cousins. Isabella hung back until Cade's eyes met hers and he forced his way through the crowd to reach her. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her.

  Her throat tightened, and tears clouded her vision. "Finally," she whispered.

  At that moment, Zane and Trey approached and shook Cade's hand. "We're getting out of here," Zane said.

  "Heading home?" Cade asked.

  Trey shook his head. "There's a poker game with a seat being kept warm for me. I'll be back in a while."

  "What about you?" Cade asked Zane.

  "I thought I'd head down Texas way, see what's going on, but I'll be back by Christmas."

  "Stay safe, both of you," Cade told them. And thanks again."

  "I suppose you'll be going back to Rocky Ridge now," Isabella said to Cade after Zane and Trey were gone.

  Cade shook his head. "Not yet."

  Her eyes widened. "Why not? You got what you wanted. You finally got your revenge. What else would keep you here?"

  "You."

  For a long moment, she gazed at Cade's face, the face – the man – she'd loved as far back as she could remember. "Are you sure? We don't really know each other any more."

  "You said you wanted a man who would be your friend as well as your husband."

  "I did say that, didn't I?" she whispered.

  He cradled her chin in his hands. "I've always been your friend, and I'd like to be your husband."

  Her tears spilled unchecked down her cheeks. "I hear Rocky Ridge is a wonderful place to raise a family."

  "It is," he said, planting a kiss on her lips that left her breathless.

  She smiled, her heart full. "Then the sooner we get there, the better."

  Books by Margery Scott

  Historical romances

  Emma's Wish

  Wild Wyoming Wind

  The Texan's Promise (short story)

  The Morgans of Rocky Ridge: Cade (novella)

  Medical romances

  The Surgeon's Homecoming

  Stranded with the Surgeon

  The Firefighter and the Lady Doc

  Romantic suspense

  The Next Victim

  Out of Time

  Devil's Harvest

  Contemporary romances

  Winterlude

  About the author:

  A transplanted Scot, Margery now divides her time between Canada and central Florida.

  To Margery, writing in only one genre is like eating only one kind of candy. Boring. A late bloomer, Margery didn't start writing until she found herself with an empty nest, some free time, and an old standard typewriter her father found somewhere she'd rather not think about. She still has the empty nest on a lake far away from the city, but the typewriter has been replaced by a computer and free time is a thing of the past. Margery writes all across the genre board as the muse and the mood hit her, but these days she tends to stick to either historical romance or romantic suspense. When she's not writing or traveling in search of the perfect setting for her next novel, you can usually find her wielding a pair of knitting needles or a pool cue.

  Website: www.margeryscott.com

  Contact: [email protected]

  Follow me on Facebook and Twitter

 

 

 


‹ Prev