Judith E French (25 page)

Tamsin started to speak again, but Dimitri cleared his throat and motioned her to silence. The clock ticked, competing with the scratching of the judge’s pen. Finally, the door opened, and Tamsin’s knees went weak as Sheriff Roy Walker entered the room.

Judge Marlborough raised his head. “Sheriff, you’ll take Mrs. MacGreggor into custody and hold her in the Sweetwater jail until her trial,” he ordered.

“Like hell!” Ash leapt to his feet.

“Hold your tongue, Mr. Morgan, or I’ll find you in contempt of court.”

“This isn’t a trial,” he fired back. “You haven’t listened—”

“Don’t tell me how to manage my courtroom!”

“This isn’t a courtroom!”

“Any place I say is a court. One more word from you, Mr. Morgan, and you’ll find yourself behind bars.”

“Sir—” Ash began.

“Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, your honor,” Dimitri put in. He motioned Ash to sit down.

“Good,” Judge Marlborough said. “It’s fortunate for us all that Sheriff Walker was already in Denver on prior business.”

“Please, your honor,” Dimitri protested. “My client has voluntarily surrendered herself, and she’s willing to post a high bail. She’s no threat—”

Walker’s boot heels clicked on the polished floor as he walked toward Tamsin. “You’re coming with me, lady.”

“No.” She recoiled but made no attempt to flee. In these clothes, in the middle of Denver, where would she go?

“Your honor,” her lawyer argued. “Mr. Morgan—”

“I’ll take full responsibility for her appearance in your court,” Ash said. “My reputation speaks for itself.”

Judge Marlborough’s artificially black eyebrows came together in a forbidding frown. “This woman is accused of a heinous crime. Samuel Steele, an honest rancher and respected member of the Sweetwater community, was shot in the back. There will be no bail for your Mrs. MacGreggor. She’s a citizen of Tennessee. She’s already run once. I’ll take no chance on it happening a second time.”

Ash leapt up again. “Don’t touch her, Walker!”

“Ashton!” Dimitri grabbed his arm and moved to block him. “This won’t help our case.”

Tamsin trembled as Walker snapped a handcuff around her wrist. “She’ll not get away from me, Judge.” Then he brought his face so close to hers that she could smell sweat and a woman’s cheap perfume lingering on his shirt. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Sam Steele.”

I won’t cry, Tamsin vowed as the sheriff clamped the cuff. Hopelessly, she glanced at her Ash.

“The jail at Sweetwater isn’t fit to house a gentlewoman,” Dimitri said. “Surely, Denver—”

The judge stood. “Denver is no more prepared to deal with her than Sweetwater and has less reason to bear the expense.” He gestured impatiently to Walker. “Take her away, Sheriff. And I remind you that I’m holding you personally responsible for her safety until that day.”

“She’s innocent!” Ash shouted.

“I didn’t shoot Sam Steele.”

“For your sake I hope you are,” the judge replied sternly. “For if you’re found guilty, the Territory of Colorado will exact the highest punishment. Your sex shall not help you. You’ll hang by the neck until you are dead, and God have mercy on your black soul.”

In two days, Tamsin was in the Sweetwater jail and found herself the object of great speculation by the residents of the town. Two ministers, the widow Fremont who ran the boardinghouse, three members of the Methodist Women’s Society, a prominent shopkeeper, and Rabbit Hawkins, the town drunk, had all found excuses to come into the jail and stare at her.

Ash, Dimitri, and Helen had followed the sheriff and prisoner to Sweetwater. Ash rode Shiloh and tied Tamsin’s horses and the Appaloosa behind Dimitri’s carriage.

By the first afternoon, Ash had found a private barn to shelter the livestock and paid a visit to Shelly at Maudine’s Social Club.

The black-haired lass welcomed him with open arms, if a little sleepily. “It’s good to see you, Ash,” she said, covering a dainty yawn with her hand. “Come in, but be quiet. Maudine’s still sleeping.”

He followed her down the shadowy hall and into a handsome parlor furnished with velvet-covered settees and thick, rich drapes closed tightly to keep out the sunshine.

The bawdy house was just coming alive. From the kitchen, Ash could smell baking bread and hear the soft laughter of the black cook. A calico cat curled around his leg, and Shelly scooped it up in her arms.

“You know you’ve got no business in this room, Silky,” she cooed. She rubbed her artificially red cheek against the cat’s fur and threw Ash a saucy look. “Still cold in the mountains? Heard you tracked down that back-shooting woman that murdered Sam.”

Shelly was barely dressed, her voluptuous figure adorned with lacy drawers, black stockings, and a corset beneath her dragon-red Chinese robe. The scent of jasmine clung to her hair and silk wrapper.

She opened a sliding door to another room and pushed the cat in. “Polly,” she called softly. “Come get Silky. Maudine warned you about letting him in the front parlor.” Then she turned to Ash with a professional smile. “I suppose you’ll be wanting a bath.”

“And a little of your time, darlin’.”

“Official time, or friendly time?”

He passed her a handful of silver dollars. “I’d like to talk to you, just talk, nothin’ more. I need some answers, about an old customer of yours.”

“Wouldn’t be Sam Steele, would it?”

“And Edwards at the livery.”

Shelly glanced over her shoulder to see if they were alone. “Sam was a regular, but you know we don’t talk about gentlemen friends. Edwards never came here. He likes his pleasure cheap.”

“You don’t discuss business. I know that. What I want to hear is gossip. There isn’t much that goes on in Sweetwater that Maudine’s ladies don’t know.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

Ash turned toward the new voice. Maudine LaFrance was standing in the doorway that led to the entrance hall. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “I was just—”

“Looking to get me and my girls in trouble?” Maudine was barely five feet tall, somewhere between fifty and
eighty, with the complexion of an English dairymaid and the eyes of a tiger. Once stunning, she was now, in Ash’s eyes, merely elegant. Her voice for all her air of authority was surprisingly high and girlish.

“You know me better than that, Mrs. LaFrance.” He flashed her what he hoped was an endearing grin. “I’m trying to help a lady out of a bad spot. I need information, and I’m willing to—”

Maudine waved her hand. “No, Mr. Morgan. It’s not necessary to mention an amount. I know you’ll be more than generous. But you must understand that anything you learn here must never reflect on me or my ladies.”

“No, ma’am, it won’t,” he promised.

“And none of us will testify in a court of law. You do understand that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maudine smiled. “Then I see no problem.” She looked at Shelly. “Take Mr. Morgan to the bathing room and give him whatever he requires.”

“That’s what I like about you, Mrs. LaFrance,” Ash replied. “You’re a sensible woman.”

“Save your compliments for Shelly.” Maudine paused, touching her cheek lightly with one painted fingernail. “And, after your bath, leave your cash donation in the blue ginger jar in the front hall on your way out.”

Later, Ash visited Tamsin at the jail. “I won’t be here in the morning,” he said. “I have some things I have to do, but don’t worry, I’ll be back by evening.”

“What things? Does it have anything to do with Jack Cannon?” she asked.

“No, it doesn’t. It has to do with clearing you. Trust me, Tamsin. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

She’d passed a sleepless night in the bare cell and was
still bleary eyed when Dimitri appeared early in the morning.

In one hand the dapper lawyer carried his black leather briefcase. Under the other arm he balanced a tray with a teapot, cups, sugar, cream, and hot cinnamon scones.

“I thought perhaps a decent cup of tea would cheer you up. Lemon wasn’t available. I hope you like milk.”

“It’s fine, thank you. I don’t understand why you’re doing all this for me,” Tamsin said as Dimitri set the tea tray on the wooden stool in her cell and removed several hard-boiled eggs from his pocket. “You don’t know me. You don’t know if I’m lying about the murder. You have no reason to trust me, yet you’ve left your home and other clients to come here and concentrate on my case.” She chuckled. “And you’ve brought breakfast.”

Pleasantly embarrassed, Dimitri tugged at his high collar and cleared his throat. His black coat and waistcoat were immaculate, his white shirt was starched, his trousers bore a knife-edge crease, and his shoes were shiny enough for Tamsin to see her reflection.

He looked totally out of place in this dingy jail cell that smelled of stale urine and despair. Yet, he managed to appear undaunted by the bleak surroundings.

“Ashton trusts you,” he said. “I’ve never known him to be wrong about a person’s character.” He smiled. “And I do have some aptitude in that area myself. I’m convinced you’re not a murderess.”

“Even believing in my innocence, you’re going beyond your duty as my lawyer. Not that I don’t appreciate it. I do, it’s just that I don’t have any money to—”

“You must not be concerned with finances. Ashton has generously guaranteed all my expenses. He offered to pay my fee, but I’ll accept none from him, ever.” Dimitri
gestured grandly. “Ashton saved my wife’s life. That’s how we met him. My dearest Helen was coming west from Baltimore to join me. She and Ashton were on the same train traveling through Missouri when it was attacked by Confederate sympathizers.”

“During the war?”

“Yes.” Dimitri nodded. “Yes, in ’62. When the rebels entered the car, demanded all the passengers’ valuables, and began shooting, Ashton threw himself over my wife and took a bullet to protect her. Wounded, he killed two of the marauders and drove off the others. Neither of us will ever forget that gallant deed.” He chuckled. “Besides, Ashton plays a tolerable game of chess. And you have no idea how difficult it is to find a decent opponent west of Baltimore.”

“Ash is a good man, isn’t he?”

“The best,” Dimitri agreed. “Smart, absolutely fearless, and honest to the bone. He should have taken up the study of law. He’d have made a fine judge.” He smiled, revealing a silver filling in an eyetooth. “I’m not blind, Mrs. MacGreggor. It’s clear what the relationship is between the two of you. And you needn’t fear; Ashton has none but the most honorable intentions toward you. I’m certain of it.”

“I wish I had your faith.” Tamsin rose to pace nervously. “Have you spoken with Henry Steele?”

“Yes, I have. He’s quite adamant about what he found in the barn. He’ll be a good witness for the prosecution. I always advise my clients to avoid being found standing over a body whenever possible.” Dimitri chuckled at his bit of humor and adjusted the knot of his perfectly tied cravat.

Tamsin nibbled her lower lip and studied the little man. Had she seen Dimitri Zajicek on the street, she would
have passed him without suspecting that beneath that graying cap of hair, with its center part and heavy layer of Acme Hair Oil, nestled a steel-trap mind. Strange that two such different men as he and Ash should have developed such an obvious respect for each other.

She smiled. So Ash played a good game of chess, did he? He was full of surprises. If she survived the rope and Ash his outlaws, she’d have to challenge him to a match. Her grandfather had taught her chess when she was eight, and it had been a passion ever since.

“A trial date has been set,” Dimitri announced, pulling her back to her present situation. “Monday, a week.”

“You can’t let Henry Steele preside,” she replied. “I’m certain that he killed his own brother. What other reason could he possibly have for being in that barn that late at night? I heard Sam order him off the ranch that day. They were furious with each other. Apparently it wasn’t enough for Henry to covet his brother’s wife. He must have hated Sam enough to shoot him in the back.”

“Henry Steele cannot judge this case. It’s illegal and impossible. Leave that to me. But if you hope to cast suspicion on a judge, we must have more evidence than his being there,” Dimitri reminded her. “You were there, and you’re innocent. It could have been a third party who committed the crime. A disgruntled employee? A passing horse thief?”

“If it was, then there were two of us there to steal horses that night.” She shook her head. “It makes no sense. Unless Sam Steele was the horse thief. Someone took Dancer and Fancy from the livery stable the night before, and they weren’t the first horses to go missing in this town according to the boy who mucks up for the hostler.”

“You mentioned the lad before.” Dimitri whipped out
a pencil and a small leather-bound notebook. “Give me his name and his exact words.”

“I’m not sure of his name, but he was about fourteen with olive skin and black hair. He said, ‘Sam Steele trades in horses. Some people say he’s not particular whose they are.’ ”

“You’re certain that’s what he said?”

“Yes. And you should question Mr. Edwards, the livery stable owner. He seemed a dishonest sort to me. Either he sold my horses to Sam, or they were in league with each other. Sam insisted he had bills of sale for both animals, but I didn’t see them. They could have been false.”

“Or the papers never existed,” Dimitri suggested. “I’ll put
bills of sale
at the top of my questions for the widow Steele. If there are such papers, she should be able to produce them.”

“If Sam Steele’s widow, Sarah, I believe I heard him call her, was behaving improperly with the judge—”

“Then she may be a hostile witness as well,” the lawyer finished. He pursed his lips. “Leave Mrs. Steele to me, Mrs. MacGreggor. I’ve questioned deceitful witnesses on the stand before.” He moistened the pencil point with the tip of his tongue. “Can you remember anyone, other than this Mr. Edwards, who saw you ride into town with your horses?”

She shook her head. “There may have been a cowboy outside the feed and grain store.” She nodded. “There was, but he mounted up and rode out. I don’t think he ever looked in my direction, so I couldn’t give you a description.”