His Most Wanted (14 page)

He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Judge.”

“Come in, Christopher.” The old man's eyes squinted in what might've been the best smile he could manage. “I saw you in my courtroom today. Eight trials, most of them Indians. Were you interested in seeing the law from another perspective?”

“It's enough to sober any man, I'd imagine.” He hated that the defendants had so little to say to defend themselves. Some of the supposed criminals could barely speak English, let alone share anything to help their cause. He moved closer to the desk and took a seat opposite the judge. “Makes me feel more responsible for apprehending the right criminal. I wouldn't want an innocent man hanged on account of any mistake I made.”

“Sure.” The judge set his cigar on the edge of his desk and reached for a stack of envelopes. Thumbing through them, he culled the mail into two piles. “I hear you've got the sheriff's murderer. Congratulations. I know the town will rest easier. Can't say I'm surprised though. Thorntree and I both knew you'd make a great lawman.”

Kit leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he played with his hat. Guilt gnawed him raw inside. “Judge, I didn't apprehend Cora. I just brought her in when the posse came for her. You see, I already knew she shot Sidlow. It was self-defense. She told me herself, but about Hazen—”

Murtagh glanced up sharply. “You're sympathetic to Miss Reilly. I can understand that.” He paused, picked up one envelope and then continued as he took a letter opener to the missive, “I know you have an affinity for prostitutes and gambling houses. You wouldn't be Bart's nephew if you didn't. But you've been spending too much time there for your position as sheriff. However, I'm willing to overlook that. What we mustn't forget though, is that Jim Hazen wasn't given a chance to defend himself.”

Kit felt a surge of anger. “That man stalked and harassed these ladies. I've interviewed them. There were countless incidents of—”

“Doesn't matter. The law is the law. You cannot compare crimes and say one person was guiltier than the other. Jim Hazen can't be put on trial. He's worm fodder. What we have to be concerned about is punishing the one we caught. Cora Reilly was arrested for murdering two men. Gather your evidence and let the court decide her fate.”

Blood behind his temple began to pound. “Judge, if you want to protect the people from whoever killed Hazen, you'll hear me out on this. Cora Reilly didn't kill that man. I aim to find out who did very soon, but in the meantime, you've got to allow her to go home. She doesn't belong in that jail.”

“Surely you don't want her here in the barracks with the male convicts?” He took a letter out of the envelope and held it at arm's length to read.

“No. Of course not, but—”

“She'll be safe enough in the cell. You can continue your search for a week. But don't be surprised if all you find is more evidence incriminating Miss Reilly. That whorehouse is a shady business. The whole Row has been the bane of my career with the former sheriffs filling my prison with their customers—thieves, drunkards and the likes. That cathouse turns good men bad. I even suspect Mayor Thorntree is half in love with one of her ladies.” His lips twisted in his first smile of the day and he chuckled. “Not to mention the fact that my wife worries I might choose to hang my hat there one of these days. Yes, I'm sorry for the women who depend on the place for their livelihood, but I'll rest easier when all those houses close their doors.”

The judge tossed the letter at Kit. He picked up the paper and instantly recognized the hand-drawn trees at the top of the page, followed by the words,
An Invitation to the Willows for the Fall Social
.

“My wife and I always have roast beef on that night at our house. It's our tradition. She wants to invite a few friends over this year, including our new sheriff. She's eager to meet you.”

The event was a week away. He'd hoped to be done with Fort McNamara by then, able to return to his ranch…with Cora if she was free to accept his invitation.

He shook his head. “I'm afraid I'll have to decline.” Even if he was still in town, he was obligated to Cora to help with the club that night. He stood, passing the invitation back to the judge.

“I won't take no for an answer. You're coming to dinner that night. My wife's frail. She has a bad heart, so I don't like to disappoint her,” he murmured the last, his voice softening with what Kit assumed was pain.

He put his hat on, feeling utterly defeated. “I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know.”

The judge rolled a shoulder. “I used to take her to the therapeutic springs. Now she can't make the trip. The shock of the travel would kill her. She's been a good wife to me, and I look forward to the two of you meeting. 'Bout time you looked for a good, decent woman for yourself.”

Kit muttered a goodbye and left the old man's office.

The
only
woman for him was Cora, but the judge's uncanny resemblance to his uncle in both looks and words left him feeling bewildered and unable to voice a decent argument. He rubbed the badge on his chest as he exited the courthouse, pondering what on earth he should do now. Perhaps he would canvas the town, interview more citizens.

So far, the day had been another failure.

He couldn't afford failures anymore. Not when his worthlessness could cost Cora her life.

Chapter Fourteen

After a day and a half in the jail cell, Cora realized her plan wouldn't be as easy to manage as she'd hoped. There were lawmen stationed outside the building every hour of the day, leaving her unguarded only long enough for them to relieve themselves behind the bank.

Dammit all, where had these paragons of service and protection been when she, Andrea and the other townswomen had needed them weeks ago? How could her neighbors feel threatened by her, of all people, when far more dangerous men freely roamed the streets of Fort McNamara?

Jupiter had taken up shifts outside, as well as Deputy Buchanan. Even the mayor had left city hall to keep an eye on the jail for two hours after his usual trip to the saloon. Yet the organizer of all this protection hadn't shown his face all day long, and his absence made her feel miserable.

Apparently, Kit was intelligent enough not to hitch his wagon to her. Why should it surprise her he wasn't guarding her? She felt lost without him, and her insides were tied in miserable knots. Only her plans for escape gave her purpose, a reason to not think about him. And the longer she stayed in town as Kit's prisoner, the longer her friends at the Willows would suffer the humiliation of being connected to her.

Watching the street outside her jail window, she studied Buchanan. Of all the sheriff's men, he was the least watchful. His lack of attention had allowed Millie to pay her first visit to the jail. He'd taken the nine o'clock shift tonight, sitting on a bench outside the mercantile two buildings down the block. His thirsty stare followed after passing cowboys as they entered the saloon. If anyone left her unguarded, she believed it would be Buchanan.

That morning, she'd managed to whisper a message to Logan Dix, the thief Kit had shot, asking him to come back tonight with Simon Cotter to make plans for her escape. A few months ago, Cotter, the dangerous drifter rumored to have robbed a stagecoach in Missouri, had asked to buy a token for one of her ladies, but Sheriff Sidlow had intercepted him before he could use her establishment. Now Cora prayed she might be able to bribe these lawless men to help her out—with the one condition that no one would get hurt. If Jupiter or anyone else got shot on her account, she'd never be able to live with herself.

Buchanan stood as a tall man in a hat approached him. In the darkness, it was difficult to make out the newcomer's identity, but when he turned toward the jail, the metal star on his chest caught the light and her heart stopped with recognition.
Kit.

Buchanan headed into the saloon as Kit walked her way. She ducked down with a gasp. He was finally here. She couldn't let him see her watching.

Her cheeks heated with indignation. By the time she heard his key turn in the lock and the chain fall away, she stood in front of the door, flexing her hands in righteous fury.

Entering the cell, he doffed his hat and then lifted his gaze. “Cora.”

“Hello, Kit.” She took a deep breath, struggling to keep from crying or launching at him with her fists. Her mouth, however, had a mind of its own. “After I've sat in this building for the past twenty-four hours alone, you dare come here now? I hope you've at least been to the Willows like I asked.”

“Of course.” He stepped into the moonlight from the window and dropped his hat. “Are you all right?”

Her resolve crumbled when she caught his unguarded expression and reading the honest worry in his eyes. “I'm wonderful.” A sob suddenly choked her, giving away her true emotions. “The bat and I are doing just fine, Kit.”

“Bat?” he echoed, incredulous. He moved forward and cupped her face in his hands. “Ah, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.”

His hands were warm and gentle as his thumbs grazed her cheekbones. She leaned into him, all the fight in her whisking away with relief. Oh, she'd missed his touch. He put his mouth to hers and kissed her again and again with the soft persistence of a moth's wings as it sought light from behind glass. Then he kissed her cheek, her temple, even her nose. “You're really all right?”

She sniffed back a tear and lifted her gaze to his, smiling. “Yes, silly. This place feels like a dungeon, but I'm no princess. I'm fine.”

He ran his hands down her arms to catch her fingers and squeezed them firmly. “The deputies say they've been vigilant. Have they kept people from bothering you?”

“Yes.” Suddenly afraid he might sense something amiss, she averted her eyes. She couldn't let him discover that her plans for the night had been thwarted by his presence. “I just sit and think most of the time. What else can I do in here?”

He backed up as if to have a better look and stumbled over her bedding. “That's it,” he growled. “I'm taking you out of here. You're not staying in this damned hole another minute.” He jerked the badge from his chest, and she heard a ping as it hit the stone floor.

He would quit on her account? She gasped in surprise.

He reached for her hand, but she dodged him. “No, Kit. I'm okay here. Honestly.” She located the star and picked it up. “Put this back on. Please.” She took his hand and folded his fingers around the metal.

He exhaled impatiently. “But your being here's not right. The judge won't listen, and I don't care what he thinks anymore. I've wasted a day already trying to get enough evidence to get you out.”

She remembered Judge Murtagh was his uncle's friend, and Kit would do anything he thought would please his beloved uncle. Yet here he was, ready to ignore his guilty conscience for her.

Suddenly bolstered by joy and love, she stood on her toes and threw her arms around him. “I'm just glad you believe me.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I told you I believe you. I even found another witness in town who says he saw a man, not a woman, leaving the alley after Hazen was shot. That's enough proof in my opinion that they never should've accused you.”

“A man?” Easing back a step, she recalled the events of that night. “I looked in the saloon for McGruder, but I don't remember passing anyone. I could've, but I really wasn't worried about who might recognize me. No one had any idea I was Velvet. I hadn't done anything wrong to be hiding…yet. I've always put the cloak and hood on when I actually found the man I wanted to scare.”

“Cora, do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want you arrested?”

“No. There are a few wives who hate the Row, but they usually just come by and collect their men. They don't blame us working girls.”

“What about the mayor? He sent Buchanan to search your belongings. Does he have a grudge against you? The judge says he thinks Thorntree is in love with one of your ladies.”

“Ray?” She thought for a moment. The mayor wouldn't be the first married customer who'd fallen hard for one of the girls. “If he cares for any of them, it would be Millie. Ray always sits with her at the piano. Come to think of it, he never asks to sleep with anyone. But he's always been kind to me. Why would he kill Hazen or want me to hang for it?”

Kit fell silent for a moment, apparently unable to answer the question either. “If no one knows for sure who shot Hazen, we might not get enough proof to get you out. It's not looking good for you. But if we both leave town tonight, no one would know until daylight—”

“No, Kit. Then they'll be after you too. You haven't done anything wrong. You're no outlaw.”

“I'm no sheriff either.” He lifted her hand for a kiss.

Her skin tingled pleasantly from the contact. She covered his hand in both of hers, melting inside, yet breaking in two. “You're a good man. Don't you ever doubt it.”

An owl hooted outside. She had to get Kit out of here. Her accomplices could arrive at any moment. That's all she needed—for Kit to get caught in the middle of her plans for escape.

She touched his cheek and brought her mouth to his for another long kiss. Against his lips, she whispered, “Please stay safe. I can't worry about you.”

He ran his hand up her back, drawing her closer against him as he caressed her shoulder blades reassuringly. “I have been. I've checked on the Willows. Millie is doing a good job handling the party plans. Bernadette has been working the door, collecting money for tokens. But they miss you.” He kissed her forehead. “
I
miss you.”

“Kit, you need to leave here before someone finds us together. It won't look good for you to be seen with me. You probably need to stay away from the Willows as much as possible too, for now.”

He sighed. “I swear to you, I'm gonna get you out, and a Wainwright never breaks a promise.”

A rock skittered outside the cell, making them both jump.

Kit whirled toward the sound, his hand on his gun. She grabbed his elbow, but he pulled loose from her, heading toward the door.

“Wait!” Her throat clogged with panic. The men she'd engaged were desperadoes, capable of anything. “Don't go out there!”

Kit threw a sharp glance at her over his shoulder and then returned to the door to cautiously peer around the corner. “Show yourself!”

The sound of fleeing boots followed, and her stomach dipped with a mixture of disappointment and relief.

Kit went outside and then came back in. Agitation rolled off him. “Something tells me you know who those men were.”

She winced at the incensed tone of his voice. “I didn't see them.”

“There were two men. One was hopping on one foot. Does that ring a bell with you?” He stalked toward her.

She mimicked his stance with her fists on her waist. “I had to do something.”

“You coulda asked
me
.” His voice lowered an octave, deceptively calm, though she recognized the hurt and anger beneath it. “I would take you out of here right this instant. Who's around to stop us? Hell, we could even board that packet that just docked down at the wharf today and be on the Mississippi River in less than a week, headed for New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico.”

Shock rolled over her. Gracious, he'd really thought of that? She felt a bubble of excitement despite herself. He actually wanted to be with her enough to consider such a scheme?

But it couldn't happen. She couldn't make an outlaw out of him too. Fort McNamara needed him. Her friends needed him too.

She had to make him see it would never work. “I didn't tell you because I don't want you to come with me. Those men were already criminals. You're not capable of the things they are.”

The room fell deathly quiet, as he seemed to stew on her words.

“I told you before, you have no idea what I'm capable of,” he replied coolly.

She braced herself, expecting him to curse at her for making plans to escape, but instead, he startled her even more by closing the distance between them. He tangled his hands in her hair, and his mouth was on hers again in an angry kiss, a desperate one, full of heat and passion too long suppressed. She slanted her lips against his and opened, accepting his deep, scorching kiss, their tongues mating, bodies pressed together. He cradled her, cupping her against him as if she possessed a life source he required to survive.

She returned his embrace with all her heart, committing the taste of him to memory, the feel of his strength, his hardness, his breath and scent. Sensations she would remember until the day they put her in a grave.

Being with him again awoke her hunger, and she needed to put an end to it. Stroking the back of his neck, she broke the kiss. “You have to forget about me.” Tears burned in her eyes. “Please be careful, Kit.”

He moved back, shuffling a bit in the darkness, and then he closed his hands over hers. When she opened her palms, she felt the cold weight of a gun in her hands. Her pistol.

“Hide it,” he cautioned, his voice gone rough. “Let no one see you have it, but don't be afraid to use it if you have to. I'll be back.”

She nodded as he turned and left, sniffing back a tear.

Kit walked backward, keeping his eye on the stark little building as he headed for a place to sit and keep watch until his next deputy arrived to take over.

That shabby little concrete hellhole contained his future, his heart. And his lady's words made him want to rip the door off its hinges and carry her away with him like some kind of frenzied warrior.

Should've told her I love her.

No. Better to wait until he proved his worth by freeing her from that place.

His uncle was wrong. So was Judge Murtagh. He didn't need a respectable woman. He needed the woman who'd make him far happier than his aunt had ever made Uncle Bart. Cora was the only woman who'd encouraged him, a lady kind enough, brave enough, and surely the other half of his soul that he'd been missing all his life.

Now if he could just exonerate her before she did something else as crazy as hiring those two idiots he'd seen hightailing into the alley.

He'd have to increase his numbers watching her at night and make sure she was well guarded.

Sinking onto the bench, he dropped his hat beside him and chuckled. She'd nearly done it. That old lock on the cell was good protection against one man, but no match for two, and Buchanan was too self-absorbed to notice her plan. He thought about their conversation earlier.

So Ray Thorntree might be in love with Millie?

In his experience, men with power often became poisoned by it. Perhaps Ray felt Cora threatened his marriage. Or perhaps the deputy had blackmailed the mayor. God knows why a man might shoot another in the back. But maybe Kit was barking up the wrong tree altogether and Ray wasn't involved.

Still, it seemed mighty odd that the mayor had sent Buchanan after Cora and not made any mention of the mysterious man who'd been spotted leaving the alley.

Someone definitely wanted Cora caught and hung for the deputy's death. Question was, could he discover the real killer in time to save her?

Cora had once told him Mayor Thorntree loosened up after a few drinks, and now that Kit thought about it, he remembered seeing that himself. Even if the mayor wasn't the killer he sought, perhaps he could help convince the judge to release Cora.