Ashes and Memories (16 page)

“No, I’ve seen newspapers before." His voice rose a degree, his face contorting with anger as he took another step toward her. “This is your own personal soap box, a forum for your biased opinions.”

“That is not opinion,” she assured him, surprised her voice didn’t shake. The only other time she’d seen him like this was when she’d confronted him in his office and his rage had finally driven him to beat a man senseless. She knew how quickly he could erupt into violence, but she couldn’t help defying him. The battle lines were drawn, and it seemed there was nothing either of them could do now to prevent a full-scale war. “It’s the truth, but I wouldn’t expect you to recognize that.”

For a moment he didn’t speak. The muscle in his jaw tightened, and she could almost feel the rage vibrate through him before he regained control with a deep, ragged sigh. “The truth is Garrett gunned down an innocent man in my saloon in view of half a dozen witnesses.”

“So you’re going to hang him without a trial? What gives you the right --”

“Miss Parker.”

He didn’t raise his voice this time, but his words cut across her own like a well-honed saber, severing her confidence and threatening what was left of her courage.

“We have had this conversation before,” he stated, tugging his gloves off with quick, angry movements.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the American judicial system?” she asked, clinging to her conviction that he would never harm her physically. But it did very little to allay her apprehension.

“Another topic we’ve discussed in depth,” he pointed out. “The man is guilty and he is going to hang.”

Emma glanced away from the menace in his opaque eyes. If the eyes were mirrors to the soul, Reece MacBride’s soul was a dark, barren place. She would swear every misdeed he’d ever committed showed in the depths of those eyes like flaws in an otherwise perfect diamond.

“If there were so many witnesses, what difference does it make if you allow the man to have a trial?" Emma asked. “You might actually find that doing the right thing is good for the soul.”

Reece blinked, as if her words had pierced his armor and found their mark. She thought she recognized a flash of pain or acknowledgment in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His cynical mask fell back in place, and he gave her a cryptic smile.

“Spare me the moral platitudes, Miss Parker,” he shot back. “My soul is none of your concern and entirely beside the point. You might learn some day that right is a conditional concept that shifts according to the situation.”

“Right is right, regardless of the situation, and you know it. You ignore that fact because it gets in your way.”

“I am not going to stand here and argue the finer points of right and wrong with you!"

Emma took a step back, hating herself for letting him intimidate her but unable to withstand the heat of his fury or to keep her voice from quivering. “Even if you hang that man, there’s no guarantee his friends won’t still attack the town.”

“That is not your concern, Miss Parker.”

Emma laughed shortly, more from nervousness than humor. She turned away, intent on putting the broom up, anything to put some distance between them and break the unbearable tension. “I beg to dif --”

He caught her by the wrist and whirled her around to face him. Despite the anger in his eyes, his touch was oddly gentle, and the feel of his fingers against her skin ignited the sensations she’d struggled all morning to forget.

“If they do attack, I’ll be ready for them,” he assured her.

Something in his manner changed. His gaze touched her lips and passion glinted in those angry eyes. He remembered the kiss, too. He hadn’t been as unaffected as he might want her to believe. And while that knowledge assuaged her pride, she recoiled from the mixture of desire and rage she glimpsed in him. She jerked against his hold, and he released her.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?" Keep the conversation on the hanging, she reminded herself. Anything else would be far too personal. His indifference might be a facade, but he would never admit it, and she’d already felt the sting of his rejection once today. “It doesn’t make sense,” she went on. “Can’t you see that? If you can be ready for them after you hang Garrett, why can’t you be ready for them while he waits for a trial?”

Reece sighed impatiently. “Do you know anything about gambling, Miss Parker?”

Emma hesitated, unbalanced by the change in the conversation. “A little, not much.”

“You put your money down and you take your chances. There’s no such thing as a sure bet, but you weigh the odds and place your wager. The odds are considerably less that Garrett’s men will attack this town if he is already dead when they get here. But as long as he is alive, he poses a danger. I’m wagering they’ll break up, splinter off without a leader.”

“Well maybe the town should be allowed to decide for itself,” she suggested, questioning her own sanity. If she had any sense, she would stop pushing him. She had what she wanted. The town knew the truth. But something about him brought out the fight in her.

He paused, collecting himself with an effort. “Thanks to your interference, the town has decided that Mr. Garrett should go free." He punctuated his announcement by flinging the newspaper down on the counter.

“What?”

“There is a crowd of about thirty men outside the sheriff’s office right now,” Reece told her. “I’m on my way there to see what I can do to calm their fears.”

“They want a murderer released?”

“Don’t you mean murder suspect, Miss Parker? Isn’t that the correct term for a man who is charged with a crime but not yet convicted? Innocent until proven guilty, right?”

“Well, yes,” she replied. “But how can they do that? How can they advocate releasing a criminal -- an accused criminal?”

“You have convinced them they are in grave danger if Mr. Garrett dies,” he informed her. “As I have tried to explain to you, things are a little different out here. There is no well-established legal system.”

“What about the circuit courts and territorial marshal?”

“Come now, Miss Parker,” he chided. His lips curved in a semblance of a smile that only intensified the ominous glint in his eyes. “You have been in this part of the country long enough to realize that those systems are inadequate to meet the needs of the territory. In case you hadn’t noticed, everyone around here carries a gun. There is a lot of open territory out here, places for outlaws to hide. For the most part, towns are protected by a lawman or by someone like me who has the means to enforce the law.”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to hang a man without a trial,” she persisted.

“That is hardly the issue, Miss Parker. Whether I have the right to dispense justice or not, I have the power to do so. And I’m afraid power wins over right.”

“You know it’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair. Surely you’ve lived long enough to have learned that. This is harsh, sometimes brutal country, and if you can’t adjust, maybe you should go back east.”

“Whatever happened to changing the environment instead of letting it change you? You’re every bit as harsh and brutal as this country, Mr. MacBride, or hadn’t you noticed?”

His gaze traveled the length of her body in a slow, thorough perusal so devoid of compassion she felt shattered in its wake.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, the gentle caress of his voice belying the ruthlessness in his eyes. “Men like the Garretts are animals. They are the reason law abiding people arm themselves. They recognize no law but their own. They take whatever they want, by force if necessary. And they have no compunction whatsoever about killing in cold blood.”

“I fail to see the difference.” she stubbornly.

“There is a world of difference, Miss Parker,” he assured her. “Now, the next time you feel the need to vent your bruised vanity, I suggest you find a less public means.”

A dissolute smile touched his lips, and he regarded her insolently, releasing her from the web of fear that had held her fast.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, the heat of embarrassment spreading up from her throat to burn her face as a deep hurt sliced through her heart. She knew exactly what he was talking about. He wanted her to believe she’d been the only one affected by the kiss they’d shared, wanted her to believe it had meant nothing to him, that every word he’d spoken here last night was a lie.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, isn’t that right?”

She struck quickly, before she could think better of it, slapping him hard across the cheek. “Of all the arrogant, conceited... don’t flatter yourself, Mr. MacBride.”

She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised. She’d never slapped anyone before in her life, but rarely had she ever done anything more satisfying. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling violently as she waited in breathless silence for his reaction, for the anger that stiffened his jaw to reach his eyes.

His hand closed around her wrist, and a sharp gasp of surprise escaped her lips as he wrapped his other hand around her head and drew her mouth to his. She struggled with all her might to break free, but he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his hard, unyielding body. Her heart raced out of control as she surrendered against her will to the seductive heat of his passion. He deepened the kiss, forcing her lips apart, and plumbed the inner softness of her mouth. Desire pulsed through her, and she found herself battling not only his kiss but her own body’s response.

And then, just as abruptly as he’d seized her, he released her. She opened her eyes to his amber gaze and a cunning smile that made her want to slap him again. His steady gaze destroyed what was left of her defenses. She took a step back, touching the back of a trembling hand to her lips as she tried to still the hammering of her pulse, tried to gather the tattered remnants of her composure.

“Get your press ready, Miss Parker,” he told her, pulling his black gloves on, his movements slow and elegant.

There was a quality to his voice she’d never heard before, a deep, silken resonance that caused a disturbing reaction inside her.

“The hanging was scheduled for tomorrow at dawn,” he continued, “but I suppose it will have to be postponed. There’s going to be a trial tomorrow noon at the hotel. You’d better hope that satisfies the townspeople. Justice will be served, and if there is more bloodshed, it will be on your hands. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a town to deal with.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Miss Emma! Miss Emma!”

Ralphy’s strident voice reached Emma through the closed door as she ran headlong down the stairs, buttoning her shirt along the way. The loud pounding on the door had roused her from a dead sleep, and her mind was still fogged with the remnants of a dream.

Through the glass panel on the door, she saw Ralphy’s wide eyes dart from her to something up the street and back to her. She unlocked the door and the boy virtually flew into the room.

“What is it, Ralphy?” she asked. “Calm down.”

“There’s been a jailbreak, Miss Emma, and Mr. MacBride says it’s all your fault!”

“Jailbreak?" Emma reached automatically for her coat on the rack just inside the door, rummaging in the pockets to make sure her pad and pencil were there before slipping her arms into the sleeves.

She rushed from the office into the bitter cold of early morning. It had snowed sometime during the night, and a thin layer of white covered the street.

But the quietly serene picture quickly proved false. Alarm radiated through the town and showed in the faces of the men and women she passed as she made her way toward the sheriff’s office. Some of the men carried rifles and hurried in the same direction as she. Others milled about, murmuring quietly among themselves, their eyes downcast.

“Sheriff says they took him out about two o’clock this morning,” Ralphy was saying.

Ralphy hadn’t stopped talking since she’d opened the door, and the constant chatter grated on her nerves. She needed to think, to sort everything out.

After their confrontation yesterday, Emma hadn’t wanted to see Reece again for a while. Now she had no choice. In order to get the jailbreak story for the newspaper, she would have to face him.

A thought struck her, and she stopped in the middle of the street. Ralphy bumped into her, and she whirled around to face him. “What do you mean he blames me?” she asked.

“He says it’s ‘cause of the newspaper that --”

“That’s ridiculous!" She turned and started toward the jail again, her strides long and angry, her soul filled with apprehension. “I told the truth. He can’t blame me if someone decided to take the law into their own hands!”

But she knew he could, and he would. He would want someone to blame. He must be furious. No, furious was an inadequate word for what Reece was probably feeling right now.

Her courage flagged as she reached the front of the jail, and she stopped, taking a deep breath and steeling herself before entering the melee inside.

“All right, I want half the men to form a posse and go after them,” Reece was saying as Emma stepped into the jail.

The sheriff sat behind his desk, wincing as Doctor Stevens prodded and examined a bloody gash in his head. Men with rifles and shotguns crammed the small space, their attention riveted on Reece who spoke in a loud, authoritative voice.

“Stanton, pick your men. The rest of you will be on watch for Garrett’s gang. If they attack, it will be at night. I want the men who were involved in this jailbreak identified and arrested immediately. Go on!”

The men in the office scattered, shouting loudly to one another as they ran past Emma. She had to step further into the room to keep from being trampled by the exodus. They all seemed to know instinctively where they belonged, what their position was in the small army they’d formed, but that didn’t keep Ralphy from repeating and embellishing Reece’s instructions.

The boy stood just inside the door, watching Reece with rapt concentration. The adoration in his eyes appalled her. She’d known Ralphy idolized Reece, but until now she hadn’t realized to what extent. He tried to emulate Reece’s gestures and nodded agreement with whatever Reece said.