Wild Texas Rose (25 page)

“Actually, you're doing fine.” His words had deeply touched her, in fact.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I don't know what happened to that Jaye feller, but I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it. You got your hands plumb full, though, with the reprobates that's doin' all this trouble-makin', so let me lend a hand. Please.”

“What about your job at Crosswind?”

“Well, I told the foreman about Andy. That boy's no lenty. He's a right smart cowhand. Him and his brothers can use a few extra dollars, so he'll take my place till Reagor gets back.”

“All right. The job is yours.”

Slim set to work, and Mariah spent the remainder of the day trying to clear Whit's name.

 

 

In low spirits, tired, and hungry, Whit returned by dark of night to Crosswind. In the muted light of the study, Edward Strickland was waiting for him.

“How's the herd?” Gail's husband asked.

“Lost half of them. But, Ed, it's four
A.M.
, and I doubt you're losing sleep over my cattle. What's going on?”

“I come bearing good news.” He beamed. “The Stricklands are expecting an heir.”

“You mean Gail ...” Whit shook his head. “But she's just a baby herself!”

“She hasn't been a baby for a long time.”

Whit shuttered his eyes. Damn! He'd be a grandfather before becoming father to Mariah's children. If he got the opportunity to sire her children. Could he, in good conscience, ask for her hand in marriage without being honest about Gail?

Gail ... She'd be a mother soon. His baby was having a baby. Concern and pride filled Whit as he strode over to slap Ed's back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. But, Whit, I'm not here just to spread the good news. There's something you need to know. Mariah McGuire got herself elected temporary sheriff.” Ed leaned a hip against Whit's desk. “She called in Captain Dodson and his men. Between her and the Rangers and her new deputy, they've filled the jail.”

Whit groaned in exasperation and disappointment. Mariah had broken her word. Why, dammit, why!

When they had shared so much at his place in town, then here at Crosswind, Whit had had his first taste of peace and harmony in more years than he cared to remember. Foolish thoughts had wound through his besotted head, dreams about a lifetime of happiness with a woman he could love and trust.

But she'd nailed her true colors to the mast. She hadn't kept her word.

Another emotion surfaced. Fear. “She could get herself killed! I've got to put a stop to her nonsense.” He quaffed a stiff shot of whiskey, then stomped toward the door. “Where is she? Is she staying in town?”

“If I were you, Whit, I'd stay put.” Ed put a restraining hand on his arm. “I think you'd better sit down. I've got bad news.”

As Whit listened to Ed's explanations, he turned from worried to disbelieving, then to defensive. “I'm innocent,” he stated. “She ought to know I'm innocent.”

“Be that as it may, she's posted a notice for your arrest.”

Pacing up and down the study, Whit raked a hand through his hair. “If Sheriff McGuire wants to arrest me, she'll have to come here to do it.” He halted. If he were in jail, at least he could keep an eye on her. “I've changed my mind. I'm going to surrender.”

 

 

“You're crazy!”

“Shut your mouth, T-Bone!” Charlie Tullos slammed his fist on the breakfast table where his two hired guns were swilling down predawn coffee. “My wife said we don't move against the McGuire woman right yet, and that's that.”

T-Bone Hicks thrust out his stubbled, underslung jaw. “You ain't the one with a dead partner. That redheaded piece killed Zeke when we was after them Lamkins. And Spider and I ain't gonna sit on our butts much longer.”

“That's right,” Spider put in, running a blunt finger under his eye patch. “We didn't come up from San Antone to sip coffee.”

Tullos poured himself another cup, then tossed the latest Austin newspaper into the trash. Whit Reagor had turned against his own kind. Tullos's skin crawled at being doublecrossed by a member of the association. That turncoat was going to pay for stirring up the Austin lawmakers. And Charlie Tullos knew a way to extract payment. Everybody in Trick'em knew Reagor was sweet on that drunken Strickland woman.

“Well, boys,” Tullos said, “If you want to work off some frustrations, I got a job for you. Set fire to Ed Strickland's house tonight and make sure his wife's inside. Matter of fact, I may just go with you to make sure you earn your pay.”

The gunmen's three mean eyes glowed.

“Now get the hell outta here,” Tullos ordered. “I'm wanting to eat my breakfast.”

Chapter Twenty-three

The clang of breakfast dishes rose from the single jail cell occupied by six belching, smacking, and slurping prisoners. Bent over her desk, Mariah signed the paperwork giving Big Dan Dodson and his five Rangers the authority to move the lawbreakers to District Court.

“You're terribly quiet this morning,” Big Dan said. “Anything wrong?”

Mariah had disliked the Ranger that night at Birdie's house, but she now realized he was a good and dedicated lawman. And she admired him for being able to separate emotions from his job, something she hadn't been able to do. Nonetheless, Mariah wasn't of a mind to chitchat. Today was the day she had dreaded. Whit had returned to Crosswind. Today she would arrest the man she loved.

Her heart aching for him, she dated the last order and held the stack aloft. “You'll be back when?” she asked Big Dan.

“This afternoon,” he replied as his subordinates attached ankle bracelets to the prisoners' legs. Putting his big frame between Mariah and the other men, he asked her, “Are you certain you don't want help with Reagor?”

“Absolutely certain,” she replied, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice strong.

The sheriffs office grew eerily quiet after the Rangers and their detainees had departed. To break the silence, she set to cleaning the cell. When she finished, she rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her hands, then sank into her desk chair. How was she going to clear Whit's name?

Until lately, she had dismissed a possible link between Joseph's mysterious mistress and his murder, but yesterday Mariah had decided to consider even the slightest of clues, such as a woman scorned or a jealous husband. She had talked with scores of people, asking them if they had ever seen Joseph with a female. None had. Well, that hairpin hadn't materialized out of thin air.

She kept returning to the question: Why had Pablo accused Whit of murder? There had to be a reason, and catching her with Whit wasn't good enough.

One thing she knew for certain. Whit
had
spent a good part of her almost-wedding-day trying to see Mariah. She was beset with recriminations. If she had welcomed Whit, he'd have an alibi. And later, if she hadn't sent for the Martinezes, Whit wouldn't be implicated in murder.

Of course there was no way to prove the time of Joseph's death, but he had been in a state of rigor mortis when George and Birdie had found him, which meant he had been dead for several hours.

Why didn't I take a closer look at the body? she castigated herself. But the coroner had examined Joseph's corpse ...

“Top o' the morning to ya, darlin'.”

The chair crashed backward as she jumped up to face Whit. Her throat was frozen, rendering her unable to speak, but she drank in the adored sight of him. She yearned to run to his arms and cover him with kisses, but the icy glare in his ink-blue eyes stopped her.

He knows.
She was dying a thousand deaths.

Dressed in buff-colored trousers and shirt, a black bandanna at his throat, Whit shouldered the door closed. His stance was deceptively relaxed. “So, how's business? Meaning our business deal. Or have you changed your mind about leasing the Mukewater to a murderer?”

“You aren't a murderer, and of course I haven't changed my mind, Whit. I sent word to your foreman, and–”

“You don't want to talk about piddling stuff like that. The lady sheriff has bigger things on her mind.”

“That's not true. You know you're important to me.”

“Yeah, especially now.” His muscles tensed as he took a step toward her. “I believe there's a warrant for my arrest for the murder of the venerable Joseph Jaye. I'm surrendering.”

“I'm so sorry, my darling. I–”

“My, my, Sheriff McGuire, you disappoint me. I've brought you a vicious murderer–my-self–and do you try to arrest me and keep me locked away from polite society? No, you stand there stuttering.” He took two more steps in her direction. “Are you, or are you not, going to do your duty to the citizens of this county by locking me up?”

She knew his anger went beyond the warrant, and needed to make him understand why she'd broken her word. Shaking, she said, “We need to talk about why I took this job, and what I'm trying to do for you. Please sit down.”

“I don't want to sit down. But, yes, do tell me what you're doing
for
me.”

“I'm trying to clear your name.”

“If you want to do something for me, quit your job.”

She averted her eyes from the daggers of his glare. “I can't. Not yet. I made a promise to the people of Coleman County, and I won't go back on it.”

“Why not? You're pretty damned good at that sort of thing.”

Tension arced between them, for both knew this issue was at the root of their problems.

“Whit, I couldn't wait for your return. The Lamkins–even the children!–were killed, then I got a clue to the Martinezes whereabouts. I had to take a chance, and hope'd you would understand.”

“Well, I don't. But do tell me why you instigated a warrant for my arrest.”

“It was forced on me. Captain Dodson–”

“Isn't that just great. My woman and my old fishing pal didn't even give me the benefit of a doubt.”

Aching and hurting for Whit, Mariah squeezed her eyes shut. “I believe in your innocence.” In halting tones, she told him about Pablo Martinez and about Slim Culpepper.

Refusing comment, Whit rubbed the back of his neck. “Do your job, Mariah. Unlock that cell door.”

She couldn't bring herself to do it, and Whit fished in her pocket and took the big iron key in his hand. With one turn, he unlocked the cell. The toe of his boot widened the door's opening, and he shouldered his way into the confines.

Reaching through the bars, he thrust the key into her hand. “Lock it, Sheriff.” At her hesitation, he frowned. “If you aren't up to your duties,” he said, “you'd better turn in your badge, 'cause you're not fit for it.”

Captain Dodson had accused her of cowardice, but his accusation had none of the sting of Whit's denunciation. Her trembling fingers secured the lock. “I can do my job.”

“Give the girl a star. Oops, she's already got one.”

She ignored the barb. “Don't you have anything to say about the situation?”

His eyes cruised up and down her form. “You look damn good in breeches.”

Her pent-up emotions exploded. “Dash it. How can you stand there behind bars and say something about my appearance? Don't you have anything to say in your own defense?”

Whit turned his back. “Enough's been said for one morning.”

She heaved a sigh of exasperation. But maybe Whit was right. Enough had been said for the moment. And if she was going to clear his name, she'd better get to it.

Ten minutes later, she entered the office of Dr. John Metcalfe. “How closely did you examine Joseph Jaye's body?”

“With a fine-tooth comb. He died of asphyxiation.”

“Were there any marks on his body?”

The dark-eyed, dark-haired physician rubbed his slender fingers across his cheek. “He suffered a slight contusion to the left eye. And there was a puncture wound, very narrow and deep, on his neck. It missed the jugular, though. Probably inflicted by a stiletto.”

“Why didn't you mention this?”

“I told Sheriff Taft.”

“Doctor, why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn't ask.”

She gave herself a mental kick for her ineptitude. “In your opinion, which came first: the barbed wire, or the stiletto?” she asked, figuring the last for the case.

“The blade.”

Joseph had been stabbed and, in his weakened condition, someone had strangled him. Who? If Texas men were inclined to carry knives, they preferred the Bowie variety, not slim daggers. But she'd heard that some women of ill-repute favored such weapons.

Mariah's eyes widened. Quite possibly such a woman could also favor gold hairpins.

The midday sun cut a swatch through the high window of Whit's cell, landing on his prone form. He was trying to sleep, but rest eluded him, and it wasn't because the infernal parrot was squawking. Fear for his own welfare wasn't the problem, for he figured the truth would bear out. The dangers of Mariah's job scared the hell out of him, which didn't mean he wasn't furious with her. He had trusted her.
Had.
She had let him down.

“Reagor?”

Whit kept his eyes closed. “What do you want, Culpepper?”

“I guess you heard about my ... about everything.”

“Yelp.”

“I had to tell what I knew, but I didn't want you to think I'm too sissified to face you.”

“Deed done.” Whit opened one eye, and the deputy's badge winked at him. “Why did you embrace John Law? You sweet on Mariah?”

“No, sir. But I got a lot of respect for Miz Mariah, and she needed my help.”

“It's going to take more than one skinny cowpoke to take care of all she's getting into.”

“I'll do my best,” Slim said in parting.

Whit frowned at those last words. It was doubtful Slim's best was good enough. She did need help, lots of it. Whit knew Mariah wouldn't give up her job, and his hands were bound.

He heard someone enter the jail, but ignored the noises. Hating his helplessness, he covered his eyes with a forearm. He had to do something ... but what?

“Never thought I'd see the day Whit Reagor was put in a position to be charged with a crime,” Big Dan Dodson bellowed.

“Neither did I.” Whit eased off the cot and strode over to the bars. “I understand you've been busy.”

“Smartly so.”

“Dan, you planning to stay in Trick'em a while?”

The lawman set a cloth bag on the floor. “Yes.”

“Glad to hear it. Dan, you've done me some good turns, and I've done a few for you. I need another one. Will you help me?”

“Doing what?” the Ranger asked suspiciously.

“Taking care of Mariah. She's my woman, and I'm scared spitless she'll get in over her head with this fool job of hers.”

“You're not worried about yourself?”

“I'm worried about Mariah. If something should happen to her, I ... Dan, don't let her get into trouble.”

“I'll do my best.” Big Dan lumbered across the office, fetched two glasses from the windowsill, and blew the dust out of them before making his way back to the cell. Tucking the glasses under an arm, he pulled up a chair and sat down. “May I interest you in a sarsparilla?”

At Whit's agreement, Big Dan picked up the cloth bag and tipped up a gallon jug to pour two frothing glasses of the sweet, soft drink. Whit took a sip of his, but the Texas Ranger downed his refreshment in one swallow.

Wiping the foam from his handlebar mustache, Big Dan eyed Whit. “Did you know I was the one who insisted on your arrest? The sheriff believes in your innocence.”

Thank God! Comforted in knowing Mariah hadn't wanted to grab a noose, Whit turned to mocking humor. “Well, isn't this a fine how-d'ya-do from my old friend?”

Big Dan studied the floor. “Did you kill Jaye?”

“No.”

“Do you have any ideas on who might be responsible?”

“Ideas, yes. But no facts. Charlie Tullos threatened him. But Tullos would've sent for hired guns, I figure, and I haven't seen any of them around. Of course, I've been away from here for several days.”

“Hired guns? Such as?”

“In the past he's used T-Bone Hicks and his two partners. If they are around, they're in some hidey-hole.”

“And you saw nothing of the Hicks gang when you were riding with Tullos against the farmers?”

“Clean your ears, Dan. I already answered that.”

Big Dan refilled his glass. “The sheriff tells me Jaye had another woman. Do you know anything about her?”

“Just that she left her hairpin in his bed not too long before he was supposed to marry Mariah. Whoever she is, she might be the guilty party.”

“What woman would have the strength to strangle a healthy man, especially with wire rope?”

“A woman bigger than Joe, and that wouldn't've taken much. And, Dan, she could've had an accomplice.”

“I'll do some ruminating on that.” Big Dan got to his feet and scratched his head. “You want me to have Chad Nussbaumer come by and talk with you?”

“A lawyer seems in order.”

The Ranger left, and Whit stretched out on his cot, thinking. Who would have been involved with Joe Jaye? Most of the women around these parts wouldn't have given him the time of day. But there was a hefty gal . . . Why hadn't he thought of her?

Temperence Tullos.

 

 

“Mrs. Tullos, what a surprise.” Mariah wasn't pleased. She was here at the farm to search the log cabin for clues to Joseph's mistress, and this interruption was nothing but a delay.

Temperence Tullos, bejeweled and powdered and plumed, swept into the modest cabin. “Hello, Miss McGuire. I hope you don't mind my intruding ... I meant to come by several days ago–I've been ill for quite some time, you see. Influenza. But I do want to offer my congratulations on your election as sheriff.”

“Congratulations? Mrs. Tullos, your husband has let it be known that he opposes–”

“You're being unfair,” Temperence protested. “And I hope you'll be fair enough not to assume my husband does my thinking.”

Perhaps she had been too quick to jump to a conclusion, yet there was something odd about this visit, and Mariah wasn't going to put her trust in this woman whose husband was responsible for causing so much unrest in the area of Trick'em.