Brodie's Gamble (18 page)

“Excellent meeting, gentlemen. I believe we have a plan in place. With Sheriff MacLaren’s leadership, I’m confident the town will be back to normal within weeks. Now, if there is nothing else, we’ll adjourn.” Fielder stood, turning to the men on either side of him and shaking hands.

“Mr. Fielder, do you have a few minutes to speak with me?” Harold Ivers wasted no time moving forward.

“I believe you heard it all at the meeting, Ivers. There is nothing more I can add.” August picked up his hat, intending to leave, when Harold stepped in front of him.

“This is about you defending Miss King.”

“I see. And what is it you’d like to know?”

“First, why did you agree to defend a woman so clearly guilty and is without funds?” Harold’s intent gaze missed the flash of anger on August’s face.

"Mr. Ivers, let me be clear. Miss King’s guilt is far from proven. As for her lack of funds, surely you know that is of no concern to you or your readers. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“My understanding is the woman confessed to killing Stoddard.”

August’s face turned red, the only outward sign of his acute irritation.

“You have your facts wrong, sir. Let me give you some advice. I’d think twice before printing any of the drivel that so easily passes through your lips as truth. The
truth
of Mr. Stoddard’s death is still to be determined, and that information will be heard in front of a judge. The woman will not be tried and convicted in your newspaper. Am I clear, Mr. Ivers?”

Shaken by the public rebuke, Harold swallowed the lump in his throat, then stepped back as Fielder walked past.

“You can’t stop the truth from coming out, Mr. Fielder.”

“It’s not the truth I’m worried about. It’s the stream of innuendoes and insinuations which concern me. Now, I really must leave. Good day to you, sir.”

Brodie didn’t move a muscle as he listened to the exchange, wishing he were as adept at handling the pesky newspaperman.

“Brodie.”

His head snapped toward the familiar voice. “Da.”

Ewan cleared his throat. “You handled yourself well today, lad.”

Brodie nodded. “It wasn’t hard. The lads helped me talk to people, figure out what needed to be done. All I did was give the report.”

“And volunteer to lead the rebuilding.”

“Aye, but there’s not as much as there could’ve been. I’ve gotten telegrams from San Francisco and San Jose. They have much more damage than Conviction. Thanks to everyone working together, much of the destruction is cleaned up, awaiting repairs.”

Ewan nodded, proud of his son, realizing how much he’d already grown in his new role. “You’ve not been to the ranch in a while. Your ma is missing you, lad.”

Brodie’s stomach twisted at the mild rebuke. He loved his family and missed them, too.

“Is my chair still available for Sunday supper?”

“Aye, although we may need to dust it off.” Ewan’s sincere grin broke the tension. “First, have supper with me before I ride back.”

A warning sounded in Brodie’s head. “Is there something wrong at the ranch?”

“Nae. Everyone is fine. We can talk over supper.”

“Walk with me to the jail. I need to let my deputies know what happened at the meeting. I’d like you to meet them. Then I need to stop at the clinic to check on someone.”

“Ah. Your prisoner?” Ewan’s voice held no judgment as he glanced at Brodie.

“Aye. I need to see how she’s doing.”

“According to your brother, she’s someone I should meet.”

Brodie groaned, guessing what Fletcher, or any of his cousins, might have said. He’d already stopped in to see her three times since leaving his bed that morning. Each time she seemed more lucid, her eyes more focused, although the wariness remained. She didn’t trust him.

They’d spoken little. With Fielder as her lawyer, the fact she wouldn’t speak to him didn’t bother Brodie. He had confidence in Fielder’s abilities.

What he hoped for, found himself lying awake thinking about, was the day he could open the cell and allow Maggie her freedom. Although it was a gamble, knowing he didn’t deserve it, Brodie wanted to find a way to convince her to stay in Conviction and give him a chance, give
them
a chance, because what he’d seen in her eyes, felt in her touch, could never be erased. And, with every fiber in his being, Brodie believed Maggie felt the same.

Chapter Twelve

“What do you mean Heather took a job with Mrs. Evanston?” Brodie held his drink suspended partway to his mouth.

“I’m surprised your brother didn’t tell you when he was in town yesterday. It’s all the family has talked about the last week—besides the topic of you never coming to visit.” Ewan quirked a brow at Brodie.

“I’ll be there Sunday, Da.” Brodie sighed, accepting he’d need to do some groveling for his ma’s benefit, even if he was an adult and the decision to take the sheriff job was his to make. Still, the family had always discussed all big changes. “Why did she decide to work for the widow?”

“We don’t know. She rode off one morning with Fletcher and Sean to look for strays. As always, she left them behind, taking a trail south to the Evanston ranch. They didn’t think much about it until she returned a few hours later and told them she’d agreed to work for Mildred. While we were all at Sunday supper, the lass snuck back and took her clothes. Audrey is still raging.”

“What about Caleb?”

“The lad shrugged it off, although I don’t believe that’s how he feels.” Ewan nodded at August Fielder as he and another man he didn’t recognize walked into the Gold Dust, taking seats at a table across the room. “If the lass would open her eyes, she’d see all she ever wants is right in front of her at the Circle M.”

Brodie’s attention focused on Fielder and the man with him. His features looked familiar, yet he felt certain he’d never met the man.

“If you want, I’ll ride out to Widow Evanston’s to check on her, Da, make sure all is well.” He saw the look on his da’s face, knowing he understood. “It may be I’ll see Heather while I’m there.”

Ewan nodded. “Audrey would be grateful.” He stopped when their meal arrived, waiting until the woman walked away. “Tell me about Miss King.”

Brodie’s gaze narrowed at his father. “You saw her. As soon as the doctor says it is all right, I’ll move her back to her cell.”

Brodie and Ewan had stopped at the clinic after a brief visit at the jail to let Sam and Jack know the decision of the town council. When they’d stepped toward the bed, Brodie sucked in a shaky breath.

The bruising had worsened. Her face, neck, chest, and arms were covered in patches of purple and yellow. Scratches crisscrossed her skin. Doc Vickery had set her left arm, telling Brodie it would be weeks, possibly months before she recovered. His main concern was the gash on her head. They’d left a few minutes later, Maggie never aware of the visit.

“You don’t mean to put her back in jail in her condition?” Ewan set his fork down. “The lass needs to be somewhere she can heal, which isn’t on one of your uncomfortable beds with a mattress no thicker than a blanket.”

Brodie leaned back in his chair, still aware of Fielder across the room. “What would you have me do, Da? She’s wanted for murder. Until she stands trial, I have to keep her locked up.”

“Then find a place where she has a regular bed and someone to watch over her. Your ma would be furious if she knew your plans for the lass.”

Brodie stiffened at the mention of his mother. He thought of the small house the town provided him at the end of the same street as the jail. One bedroom and a main room, including a living area and kitchen. His bedroom at the ranch had been bigger.

“The safest place for her is in the jail where Sam, Jack, or I can watch her. Doc Vickery is across the street if she needs him.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I could ask Gwen to sit with her.”

“Gwen? The woman who works at Buckie’s?”

Brodie’s eyes flared, his mouth tilting up at the corners. His father rarely came to town other than on ranch business or to attend a meeting. Brodie had no idea he knew about Gwen. “Aye. Doc Vickery offered her a job. Do you know Gwen?”

“Do you mean in the same sense the rest of you boys do?”

Chuckling, Brodie held up his hands, palms out, feeling his face flush. “I’d say you don’t know what you’re talking about, except I’d be lying.”

Ewan grinned at his son’s obvious embarrassment. “You don’t have to admit anything to me, lad. It’s the way of things for young men everywhere.”

Brodie nodded, his face sobering. “Yes, sir. It’s the same woman, and I’d be lucky to have her watching over Maggie.”

Ewan rubbed his stubbled chin. In his fifties, he had always been a handsome man, the same as all the MacLaren uncles. As tall and broad as their sons, they’d been a force. The deaths of Colin’s father, Angus, and Quinn’s father, Gillis, had changed the dynamics, forcing all the cousins to shoulder more of a burden at a younger age.

“In her condition, I suppose there’s little chance she could escape. A woman watching over her
will
make a difference.”

“Aye, Da. She also needs to be where Mr. Fielder can meet with her.”

“August is a good man, and from what I’ve heard, an exceptional lawyer. He said the two of you will be riding out to the Stoddard place tomorrow.”

Brodie nodded. “He wants to see where Stoddard died. I’ll show him what I found.” He leaned forward, intending to tell Ewan more, when Fielder approached their table with his guest close behind.

“Gentlemen.” Fielder inclined his head toward the man beside him. “I’d like you to meet Joel Stoddard.”

Brodie shoved his chair back and stood, his body tense. “Another brother? Are you after Miss King’s life, too?” He could see the man’s convulsive swallow, his face pale.

“Sheriff,” Fielder warned.

“I can understand why you’d think that, but I have no desire to see Maggie punished for a crime I don’t believe she committed.”

The two studied each other, neither noticing Ewan come up beside Brodie.

Fielder stepped forward. “Joel sought me out. The man has a law degree and is offering to help with Miss King’s defense. I’ve invited him to accompany us to the cabin tomorrow. No harm in having another set of eyes looking over the place, especially when the man used to live there.”

Brodie had no reason to dislike the man who stood a couple inches shorter than he, with a face his mother, Lorna, would call
angelic
. No stubble, as if he’d never shaved, his clear eyes warm and guileless. As he studied Joel, Brodie found himself wondering how close he and Maggie were, if they ever had feelings for each other. A wave of something Brodie didn’t like gripped him, his hands flexing at his sides. Jealousy had never been a sensation he’d experienced. If this were it, he didn’t like it. Not one darn bit.

“If it suits the two of you, meet me at the jail after dawn and we’ll ride out. When was the last time you saw the cabin, Mr. Stoddard?”

“A few days ago with Sydney. I had returned from being gone a couple months, and Syd had ridden in from San Francisco. We just happened to arrive at the cabin the same day.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Syd is convinced she’s guilty. What I saw at the cabin convinced me otherwise.”

Fielder shifted his gaze between the two men. “We’ll be there. Afterwards, I plan to meet with Miss King and would appreciate it if Joel was there.”

“I’ll be there as well.” Brodie didn’t know why he volunteered, other than needing to learn the extent of the relationship between Joel and Maggie.

“Very well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have business to attend to before returning home.” Fielder glanced at Ewan. “Next time you’re in town, stop by and see me. I’d like to discuss a business idea with you, and Ian, if he’s available.”

“Of course, August.” Ewan’s gaze followed the two men as they walked outside, wondering what August wanted to discuss. “The man’s mind never rests,” he muttered, loud enough for Brodie to hear.

“Aye. He has more energy than two men his age.” Brodie returned to his chair as their desserts were served, noticing his father still watching after Fielder. “The man has so many interests, Da, it’s hard to tell what’s on his mind. My guess is it has something to do with his cattle business.”

“Perhaps.” Ewan sat down, leaning his arms on the table as his gaze narrowed on Brodie. “Now, tell me about your feelings for Miss King.”

Leaning forward, arms resting on his thighs, Brodie sat in a chair next to the bed where Maggie slept. He’d been there since saying goodbye to this father a couple hours earlier, fighting the urge to reach out and take her hand in his.

She’d come out of the coma, but continued to lapse into sleep, sometimes lasting hours. At times, her body jerked in spasms, her breathing short and labored. Other times her face softened, Brodie getting a glimpse of what she would have looked like as a girl of fourteen or fifteen, well before Stoddard had gotten his claws on her. Waves of anger coursed through Brodie’s body when he thought of what Arnie had done to her. For an instant, he wondered if Syd or Joel had ever touched her. The thought produced a hard ball of ice in Brodie’s stomach.