Cherished (24 page)

One glance at Juliana, frozen by his side,
showed him that she had not failed to note the filth—or the rats.
Dismay was written all across her face.

“Where’s Rivers?” Cole went on before the man
in the sheriff’s badge could speak. “Answer me, damn you.”

Dane puffed out his chest. “Hank Rivers?” he
drawled. “Why, he’s dead, of course.” The sheriff shoved back his
chair and got to his feet, jabbing a thumb against his badge.

“I’m Lucius Dane, Plattsville’s new sheriff.
Who might you be, mister?”

“Cole Rawdon.” Cole didn’t bother shaking
hands, or even nodding. He saw that Dane recognized his name. The
man’s face turned ashen and his hands, loose at his sides, started
to tremble.

“I’ve heerd of you.” Dane tried to make his
voice sound normal, but it was a shade hollower than it had been
before. He swallowed convulsively as he stared into the cold blue
eyes of the infamous bounty hunter.

“What happened to Rivers?” Rawdon asked
curtly.

Dane dropped his gaze and shrugged his
shoulders. “Shot in the back. Poor bastard. Heard tell the
Montgomery gang did it. Actually, fellow name of Wade
Montgomery.”

Juliana, who had been too weary from riding
all this time to do more than gaze in horror around the filthy
office and into the reaches of the jail cells, felt shock vibrate
through her at these words. She stared into the sheriff’s face, her
eyes growing wide and furious.

“No!” She jerked loose from Cole’s grasp and
darted forward, suffused with an overwhelming rage. “You’re lying.
Wade would never shoot anyone in the back!”

Dane let his gaze travel up and down the
sensuous young beauty before him. It didn’t matter that she looked
as if she’d like to eat his heart for supper; she was still the
most dazzling female he’d seen since the time he’d paid a small
fortune at a brothel in San Francisco for a night with the house’s
prime beauty. But this girl made that exquisite whore seem ordinary
in comparison. This one was a peach, ripe, luscious, perfect—the
other, a plain old apple, polished and rosy maybe, but nowhere near
as delectable a morsel. Everything about her was delicate and
feminine.

Except the way she was glaring at him.

“You know that young killer, missy?” Dane
inquired, raising one eyebrow at her. “Maybe you can tell me where
to find him.”

“Wade is no more a killer than I am!”

Rawdon pushed in front of her, addressing
Dane. “When did this happen?”

“Maybe two months ago. The Montgomery gang
robbed a gold shipment headed from the Sanders mine to Timber
Junction. Rivers took a posse out after ‘em. The posse split up.
Rivers and two other men, including his deputy, got bushwhacked in
their camp. Rivers took a bullet in the back—never even got the
chance to draw his gun. One of the men survived, though, and told
us who done it.” Dane plumped himself back down in his chair; his
knees felt none too steady under the bounty hunter’s hard gaze. “So
Rivers was a friend of yours?” he asked, picking up a pencil and
beginning to tap it against the iron coffee mug at his elbow.

“No.”

Cole spoke the truth. He considered no man
his friend, hadn’t since the time when Jess Burrows had betrayed
him. Yet he was sorry about Rivers, who had been honest and decent
and had the courage to put on a badge and fight the vermin
inhabiting much of the West. He was of a very different breed than
Lucius Dane.

Dane cleared his throat. “Not that I mind
having company, but you folks come by for any particular reason? Or
did you just want to say howdy to Hank Rivers?”

Cole glanced at the girl beside him, who
hadn’t taken her gaze off Sheriff Dane. “This woman is wanted in
Denver,” he said slowly.

Something inside Juliana withered at his
words.

“The reward is two thousand dollars. How long
will it take to get my money?”

Juliana closed her eyes against the pain that
burned her eyelids.

Dane whistled through his teeth. “Two
thousand? Who is she?”

She forced herself to stand up very straight
as Cole pointed to the board next to the window where the Wanted
notices were posted. A poorly etched drawing of Juliana was
displayed along with a bold-faced description of her and her
alleged crimes. Though she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, and
her shoulders stiff, she couldn’t stop the humiliating flush that
crept up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Juliana Montgomery?” Dane’s ears pricked up.
His feral eyes swiveled toward the girl once again, this time with
a sharper kind of interest. “Missy, air you kin to that terrible
Montgomery gang?” he inquired.

Juliana lifted her chin, proud as a statue.
At least she was trying to look proud—proud and tough and
contemptuous, but inside she was fighting against a choking panic.
She couldn’t believe Cole Rawdon was going to leave her here in
this awful place with this beastly little man. She was icy with
fear, her hands as cold and heavy as marble. What had Wade and
Tommy gotten involved in now? Murder? It was impossible, she told
herself, thinking of the handsome, fun-loving brothers she had
adored. Her heart was sick with worry for them. She didn’t know
which was worse, the trouble the boys were in, or her own plight,
locked up here in this foul little town in the custody of Lucius
Dane.

At least she’d be rid of Cole Rawdon. But
suddenly, the thought of him walking out that door and leaving her
here with this sheriff caused suffocating fear to rush through
her.

“Air you goin’ to answer me, missy, or not?”
Dane demanded, and reaching out, grabbed her by the arm.

“I’m not answering any questions until my
trial,” Juliana shot back, wrenching her arm away.

Cole Rawdon watched in silence.

“Mouthy little troublemakers get no favors
here.” Dane scowled at her from beneath his brows. “I’ll wire
Denver in the morning and find out how Judge Mason wants to handle
this. Meanwhiles, come along. I’ve got work to do and can’t stand
here jawin’ all day.”

She flinched away from him as he came around
the desk. Her skin was as white as a seashell bleached by the
waves.

“You’re going to lock me up now?”

“Naw, I’m going to throw a shindig in your
honor.” Dane sent Rawdon an amused smirk, but the other man
returned his look in stony silence. With awkward haste, the sheriff
turned back to the girl.

“Course I’m going to lock you up, missy. Now
don’t make things difficult on yourself.”

Once again he grabbed her arm. His fingers
pinched her flesh like crab claws.

Late afternoon sunlight slanted weakly
through the office window as Dane dragged Juliana toward the first
of the dank tiny cells at the rear of the building. The light made
thin amber bars on the floor as she stumbled along beside the
sheriff. Feeling empty and sick inside, she fought back paralyzing
despair and willed herself not to cry.

Dane’s hand on her wrist was warm and sticky.
His fetid breath hung in a cloud about him, assaulting her
nostrils. She could feel Cole Rawdon’s piercing gaze upon her back,
and as she reached the door of the cell, she spun about to gaze at
him.

Mute appeal flickered in her eyes. She didn’t
know why she should expect him to help her—he was the one who had
captured her and brought her here. He had never said or done a
single kind thing for her—except that he hadn’t shot that stupid
bear. All he cared about, she reminded herself bitterly, was his
precious reward money. No doubt he was as glad to be rid of her as
she was of him. She felt hot tears gathering on her lower lashes.
Once he walked out that door, she’d never have to see that cool,
nonchalant face again, never have to deal with him or his maddening
self-assurance, or worry about her heart turning to jelly when he
came near her or ... kissed her. Now she’d only have Lucius Dane,
John Breen, and a host of other narrow-minded, blind, deaf, and
dumb men to deal with.

Her gaze locked with Cole’s as she stood with
a hand on the cell door. For a moment he stared back, his lean,
bronzed face unreadable. He looked remote, as unreachable and
uncaring as a granite peak jutting high above the desert.

Juliana wanted to say something. Her lips
parted but the desperate words would not come out. Something was
closing tight and hard around her heart.

Then it was too late—he turned on his heel
and left the office, slamming the door shut behind him with a thump
that sounded all too final.

Not even a good-bye. Emptiness rocked her.
But what had she expected?

Anger at herself for the pain in her heart
made her bite her lip until it bled.

“Here you go, missy. Not too fancy, but it’ll
hold you till I get instructions from Denver.”

Lucius Dane chuckled at the dazed expression
the girl’s face wore when he turned the key in the lock. She sank
down upon the narrow cot with its stained, smelly mattress and
tattered blanket as though she were in some kind of dream. Or more
likely a nightmare.

“I’ll send for your supper soon. If you’re a
good girl, I’ll let you eat some of it.” He ran an eye over the
curves apparent beneath the crumpled dress. “Then, later on, you
and me kin get acquainted. And you can tell me about the Montgomery
gang. It’d be a real feather in my cap if I could find ‘em. And if
you help me out, maybe I can do something for you along the way—put
in a good word for you with Judge Mason, maybe get him to drop the
charges.”

Juliana didn’t waste her energy answering
him. She wouldn’t help him regardless, but the man was lying.
Lucius Dane wouldn’t help his mother out of a ditch unless there
was something he could gain from it. But, she reflected, trying
hard to concentrate through the fog of exhaustion and despair that
shrouded her brain, if she could convince him that he had something
to gain from helping her, he might prove useful after all.

Wearily, she closed her eyes. She would have
to try.

* * *

Even as he returned to his desk, Lucius Dane
was planning the note he’d send to McCray. Mr. M would be mighty
interested in what this little filly had to say. She wouldn’t be
going anywhere until they’d gotten every last bit of information
from her.

Getting her to talk wouldn’t prove too
difficult from the looks of her. She looked like she’d break if you
pinched her. Jackson would do more than that to find out where the
Montgomery gang was hiding out. Oh, yes, McCray would be mighty
relieved to have them rounded up at last.

It was turning out to be a fine day after
all—thanks to Mr. Cole Rawdon.

Dane chuckled to himself as he folded and
sealed his letter. He could hardly wait to start the fun.

A tiny wren of a woman brought Juliana’s
supper. Since the sheriff hadn’t returned from his own meal in the
hotel yet, she left it on the desk and started to hasten out, but
Juliana, pressed against the bars, begged her to bring over the
food.

“I can’t. Oh, I just can’t.” Chalk-faced, the
woman tiptoed toward her with the slow reluctance of someone
treading on quicksand. “Sheriff Dane wouldn’t like it one bit.”

“Please, ma’am, I’m awfully hungry. Won’t you
bring me the tray?”

“I can’t give it to you. Not without the
sheriff here. For one thing, I don’t have the keys.”

“But you know where they are.”

Juliana saw that the woman was homely and
leather-skinned, with a lined, apprehensive face beneath
stick-straight brown hair. Beneath the fear that stamped her plain
features and pointed chin, Juliana saw kindness, a timid, wary
kindness that she knew she had to try to draw out. She wasn’t
hungry in the least, even though it had been hours since she and
Cole Rawdon had eaten. In these dismal surroundings, with rats
scurrying in the corners, she doubted she could eat a morsel, but
if the woman bringing her food could also bring her a chance to
escape, she’d behave as if she were on the brink of death by
starvation.

“Sheriff Dane left me strict orders. Yes,
indeed. Leave the food on my desk, that’s what he said.” She peered
pityingly at the slender girl behind the bars who stared at her
with such an imploring expression. “What did you do, anyhow, girl?
He said you were very dangerous and I was to stay far away from
you.”

Dangerous? Juliana gave a bitter little
smile. Maybe the truth would serve her well in this instance. She
sensed an inherent decency in the woman on the other side of the
bars. “I stole a horse so that I could get away from a man I didn’t
want to marry,” she replied quietly. Shocked eyes met her own. “If
the sheriff sends me back to Colorado, I’ll have to marry this man
and ... and I’m afraid of what he will do to me for having left him
like that. Do you understand?”

The woman swallowed hard. Indecision flitted
over her face. She smoothed her calico skirt with work-roughened
hands that shook a little. “You don’t look like a bad sort. Pretty
thing like you—I’ll bet all manner of men would want to marry
you.”

“This one was no prize,” Juliana muttered.
Every second that passed increased the chances that Lucius Dane
would return. She decided to lay all her cards on the table at
once. “Please, if I could only get out of this cell. Won’t you help
me? Is there an extra set of keys in the desk drawer? Or ...” She
hesitated only briefly. “A gun?”

The little wren’s mouth dropped open. “Do you
want to get me killed, girl? Listen, Lucius Dane would skin me
alive if—”

“If what, Henny?”

Both women froze at the harsh grate of the
sheriff’s voice. So intent had Juliana been on persuading the woman
to aid her that she hadn’t even heard him come in.

“N-nothing, Sheriff,” Henny stammered. “I was
just leaving supper for your prisoner. Reckon I’ll be on my
way.”

Dane walked toward her, slow and easy. There
was a queer light in his eye. A light rain had begun to fall
outside, and his clothes were damp with it. “You feeling sorry for
this gal, Henny? Thinking that mebbe she don’t belong behind bars?
Wal, that’s just the kind of poor thinkin’ that got your boy Bob
shot and killed. Remember? He thought Mr. M didn’t have no call
taking over the hotel after Isaac got killed. But Mr. McCray knew
all along it’d be too much for you alone, what with two young sons
to raise. And he was right, wasn’t he? Wal now, Bob got himself
killed, but you’ve still got that other one. What’s his name,
again, Henny?”