The Badger City Gang [Bride Train 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (27 page)

“Make sure you report what I told you,” called out Rivers.

Hames had made Zach forget about the man he and Rusty were to protect. The ex-mayor glared, his face framed by the iron bars he grasped in each hand. His clothes looked rumpled, but his hat was still jammed on his head. Zach realized he’d never seen him with it off. Even when he rolled on the floor after Kate’s kick, it was stuck tight as if he’d used glue.

“He say anything useful?” Gibson tilted his head toward the prisoner.

Zach kept his mouth shut. He’d already told the sheriff what Rivers said after supper. He expected Barstow passed it all on to the Pinkerton agent.

“Just a bunch of nonsense, far as I could tell,” said Cole. “Says he’s never done anything worse than trip over a dog in his whole life.”

Gibson put his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to the cell. He moved like a boy of fifteen, all loose-limbed and easygoing. His eager smile made him seem almost girlish. Zach and Rusty shared a look, admiring how easily the agent could change.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rivers. My name’s Gibson, and I have the pleasure of accompanying you to your trial.”

“You?” Rivers snorted a laugh. “Any one of my men could kill you, blindfolded and with one arm tied behind their back.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have any men left,” replied Gibson in the same easy tone. “I heard the posse made the survivors bury the dead out by the road to Bannack City before they hightailed it east riding double.”

Zach caught the sly look that passed over the newspaperman’s face. “You planning on searching Mr. Rivers?” asked Hames.

“You trying to teach a fox to suck eggs?” Barstow growled in disgust. “I stripped him down to his stinkin’ hide and shook everything out first thing. Either of you let anyone come close enough to cause trouble?”

Zach shook his head. “Not on our watch.”

“Us neither,” added Cole.

“Then let’s haul him out. No one gets within six feet of the prisoner, and that includes you, Hames.”

The reporter held out his arms guilelessly. “I just report the news, Sheriff. I’m harmless.”

“Harmless?” Rusty replied as Barstow unlocked the cell door. “You’re so close to hell I can smell the brimstone on you.”

“That’s my cigar, boy.” Hames strolled out of the jail, a trail of tobacco smoke wafting behind.

Zach grabbed Rusty before the slur, said with a broad Southern accent, could set him off. Slavery was against the law now, but Zach was pretty damn sure Hames had been an owner. He’d be one of those who enjoyed the power of fear.

“Don’t tar all us Southerners by the same brush,” said Cole with obvious disgust.

“Long as you don’t put me in with that bastard Rivers, just ’cause he hails from the north,” replied Zach in the same tone. They shared a nod.

“Cole and Byron, you take the front. Zach and Rusty, follow behind.”

After putting Rivers in handcuffs, Barstow and Gibson each took an arm and helped him walk. He went along easily, too easily as far as Zach was concerned. Rivers acted like he expected to be rescued. Maybe not here in town, but there’d been a lot of ambushes around Road Agent Rock at the top of the high pass between Tanner’s Ford and Bannack City.

Just in case, Zach hoped the kid Casey and his brother were good shots. With one boy on each side of the road they should be able to cover the street. The bright afternoon sun was in their favor. It would shine in the eyes of anyone looking from the stagecoach to the jail.

Kate leaned out Lily’s second-floor window, determined to make sure Rivers left town. Since the frames were narrow, there wasn’t room for both of them to stand together. Lily, therefore, looked out from the window beside her. The empty red Wells Fargo stagecoach waited for the prisoner and his escort. One man stood by the restless horses. Stagecoach horses were rarely more than green broke, which meant they could pull but not be ridden. They were obviously bothered by the people milling around.

A huge raven soared over the town. It swooped low over her head and landed on the roof of the hotel. Another joined it, then a third. When Kate looked closer, she discovered most buildings had one or two of the large black birds perched on them. She’d never seen so many of them, or known them to be so quiet.

“The ravens are with Ross,” said Lily. The largest one hopped off the roof, swooped past Lily with a quiet
quork
, and landed on the hotel balcony railing. “They won’t hurt anyone unless they mean harm to Ross, his family, or friends.”

Somewhat relieved, Kate turned back to the street. She recognized some of the men from the posse. Ross MacDougal was easy to spot, but Lily pointed out other names. The banker, Hugh Jennet, kept mopping his red face. He stood in front of his bank as if protecting it from the stagecoach. Others waited on the boardwalk as well. Once the excitement was over, they would hurry back to their stores in hopes of doing business. A good crowd had come up from Baldy’s Saloon, a number with bottles in hand. Kate was getting as restless as the others when a handsome blond man in a bright plaid suit and black bowler hat came out of the jail. He strutted as if he owned the jail, the street, and the whole town.

“That’s Buford Hames, a reporter with the
Helena Observer
,” said Lily. She curled her lip. “I suppose his clothing makes it easier to find him in a crowd. Useful for interviews. You may be interested in the first two gentlemen. Cole Taylor and Byron Ashcroft are from the Sweetwater ranch, which uses the Flying X brand. They’re cousins, as is their partner Eldon Stevens. They’re also bachelors.”

Kate looked closely at them, more curious than interested. Sheriff Barstow and another rather slim man held the odious Orville Rivers. She dismissed them all when Zach and Rusty came out. They looked furious, but glared at Hames rather than the prisoner in front of them.

“I’m so pleased that I hired the Pinkertons to investigate a few things,” said Lily. “That’s Mr. Gibson with the sheriff. He was near enough to Tanner’s Ford to bring Rivers to trial. Gibson will have hours to question him as they ride before turning him over to the authorities in Helena.”

The scruffy, barefoot boy on the hotel verandah had straightened when the men came out of the jail. Sheriff Barstow nodded in his direction. The boy held an ancient-looking rifle at his side. The stagecoach driver climbed aboard, rifle in hand.

“Everyone get back,” yelled Sheriff Barstow, waving his free arm. “Get that door open so we can put him in quick.”

Kate watched the street as if she had a private box at the opening of a new play. It all seemed so bizarre with the dusty street filled with the drama of a horrendous murderer being escorted to his trial while bored men gawked. But it was real, and she was a part of it.

The driver’s partner, standing on the boardwalk, opened the stagecoach door. The banker and newspaperman had their heads together. From the way Jennet kept glancing at Rivers, Kate thought Jennet might be telling Hames to leave before the prisoner got too close to his bank.

Zach and Rusty closed in on the stagecoach, as did the other pair of deputized ranchers. Sheriff Barstow hung back, watching the crowd, as the Pinkerton agent brought his prisoner toward the open stagecoach door.

Jennet still hadn’t moved from his doorway, right in front of the stagecoach. He turned to face the approaching prisoner. Perhaps Rivers said something, as Jennet’s face suddenly twisted in rage. He opened his coat and reached inside. Rivers grabbed with his cuffed hands and scuffled with the banker. Rivers pushed and the portly man went over. Gibson turned, caught off balance. Jennet flapped his arms wide, hands grabbing as he fell. He took both the newspaperman and Pinkerton agent down with him.

Kate clasped her hands and pressed them to her chest. The deputies and sheriff couldn’t see what was happening on the ground. She saw a flash of triumph on Rivers’s face. He pointed his cuffed hands at the men on the ground as if he held something between them. Hames scrambled away but the banker had grabbed the agent. Both of them watched Rivers. Jennet looked terrified. He tried to pull the agent on top of him as protection. The banker must have pulled a gun to shoot Rivers, who yanked it from him.

Kate couldn’t look away. Someone was going to die at that close range. Rivers, grinning like the devil, moved his hands from the agent to the banker and back, as if deciding who to shoot.

A rifle cracked, followed immediately by the
pop
of a small gun. One of the horses screamed and bucked. Kate jumped, banging the back of her head on the window frame. She pulled back into the room, eyes streaming as she rubbed the sore spot.

She didn’t want to miss anything, so as soon as she could see again, she looked out. The horses were racing out of town, the driver barely hanging on. Gibson had managed to shove the banker out of the way and haul himself to his feet. He grimaced at the dead prisoner at his feet. He hauled Jennet to his feet, looking furious enough to strangle the banker. Hames sat on the boardwalk, furiously scribbling in his little book.

Kate looked around. Everyone’s attention but hers seemed to be on the commotion by the bank. No one else seemed to notice that the boy, and his rifle, were gone from the hotel balcony. Even the ravens stared at the ground as if memorizing everything. They peered around, silent and watchful.

“Deputies, don’t let anyone leave town!” yelled Barstow. “I need to see all of you, now.”

“Free whiskey at Baldy’s!” yelled another, louder, voice. The men in the crowd hesitated for a moment and then scrambled toward the saloon.

“Trust Ross to know how to hold them,” said Lily. She sounded breathless. “Thank goodness no one else was hurt. I thought for sure Rivers was going to shoot Jennet or Gibson. I was hoping we’d need a new banker.” She smiled and nodded toward the empty balcony. That Casey is a good shot. I shall have to see that the boy and his brother are rewarded.” She gave a brisk nod. “I’ll ask Sophie to offer them space to bunk down in her storage shed. They can be night guards for her, paid by all the food they can eat.”

“Gabe and Oz, go listen at Baldy’s,” ordered Barstow over the noise and commotion on the street.

Kate turned back to watch. A huge man and a shorter one ran toward Baldy’s Saloon. Kate remembered them from the posse. The short one pulled off his hat, revealing reddish-blond hair, and pulled ahead. He must have said something because the other man roared and put on a burst of speed. The two of them arrived at the doorway together and fought to get in. They reminded Kate of how the McInnes men scuffled with each other over almost everything. They looked too different to be brothers, or even cousins.

She turned back to the action to see Barstow scowl and point to something on the ground. The Pinkerton agent returned the look and crouched. He lifted something in a handkerchief. It was too small for Kate to see what it was, but she figured it must be the banker’s gun, used by Rivers.

“If we were men we could go down there and find out what’s going on, instead of waiting until they tell us,” said Kate. She rubbed her sore head. “I expect we’re the only ones, other than that boy, who saw what happened.”

“Sheriff Barstow and Mr. Gibson will want to speak with us later,” said Lily from behind Kate. “The men will fuss, but I’m going down to the street. There hasn’t been as much excitement in Tanner’s Ford in some time.” Lily smiled demurely and fluttered her eyelashes like the courtesan she used to be. “I’m sure your head would feel better with a little air. Shall we bring our parasols and stroll down the boardwalk?”

A few minutes later their heels clopped along the wood.

“Lily Thatcher, what are you doing here?”

Ross wore nothing above his belt but a leather vest and hat. He addressed Lily, frowning with muscular arms crossed, but his glare also included Kate. If she hadn’t met him previously under far more positive circumstances, she would be quivering in her boots.

“I am taking a stroll on the boardwalk, of course.”

“Why? And don’t give me any nonsense.”

Lily pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. Kate expected her to tell a tale, but she must have known Ross meant business.

“Kate and I watched the whole thing from the second floor. No one else had the same angle. I thought the sheriff and that nice Pinkerton man would wish to hear what we have to say.” She stared back as Ross narrowed his eyes at them. “I saw Casey shoot the mayor. The boy might know who Rivers was aiming at.”

Kate opened her mouth to say what she’d seen, but Ross interrupted.

“Not the Pinkerton agent?” Ross directed his question to Lily. She gave a ladylike shrug.

“One would expect that, but perhaps not.”

“Dang it all, Lily, you should not have been up there watching.” He switched his fury to Kate. “Neither of you should. Moving a prisoner is always dangerous. You could have been killed and the judge would have me strung up for not taking care of you.”

“My husband knows neither he nor any other man can keep me from doing what I wish.” She gave a ladylike harrumph. “I’ve not heard you so upset since Amelia was kidnapped.”

“Don’t remind me of that,” said Ross with a groan.

As part of her introduction to Tanner’s Ford, Lily had told Kate a few things about Ross’s early life. How his mother, Sunbird, had sent him to be raised by her Bannock Indian family so his jealous older stepbrothers wouldn’t kill him. How four men had raped and murdered his young cousin in front of his eyes. Though a child himself, he’d killed the first man that day. Shamed at not killing them all, he vowed to find the others, then torture and kill them. But when two of them kidnapped Amelia and were put in jail, they were found with a single bullet to their brains. Ross was accused of their death, but the fact he’d been denied his vengeance was proof someone else had stopped them from speaking. No one knew who had ordered, or carried out, the killings.

“Ross, look at this!”

Kate recognized the hoarse voice as belonging to Trace Elliott. After a last warning glare at Lily, Ross strode over to Trace, who held the mayor’s hat.