Brodie's Gamble (21 page)

Brodie kicked the cell door open, sliding Maggie from his arms and onto the bed. “I’m sorry, lass.” His mumbled apology seemed a poor excuse for his decision to move her into the cold, bleak space.

She didn’t immediately release her arms from around his neck, her wide blue eyes staring into his. Desire swelled when he saw the heat he felt reflected back at him. Her porcelain skin had paled even more during her recovery, enhancing the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. He wanted to kiss each one, then capture her lips with his. Before he could finish the thought, her arms dropped to her sides and she shifted her gaze away.

“You can leave now. I’ll be fine.” Her flat voice squeezed his heart, carving a deep hole in his chest.

Straightening, he noticed Sam and Nate retreating to the front of the jail, giving them privacy.

“Can I get you anything?”

The flash of cold, steely eyes gave him his answer before she spoke.

“No. I’d prefer to be alone, Sheriff.” Grabbing a blanket with her right hand, she leaned against the wall, doing her best to spread it across her legs, sending Brodie a warning look when he leaned down to help. “I can do this.” The words were sharp and full of pain—pain he believed wasn’t all physical.

Squatting next to the bed, he picked up her hand, threading his fingers through hers, waiting for her to look at him. When she didn’t, he let out a deep sigh.

“I told Fielder about Tom Franks. Sam is already trying to track him down.”

She glanced at him for a brief moment before turning away, but not before he saw hope rise and then fade from her face. “You won’t find him.”

He cocked his head to the side. “And why is that, lass?”

She licked her lips, a nervous gesture he’d come to recognize. “Arnie always said Tom was more ghost than man. Arnie said he could disappear into the wind without a trace left behind.”

“I’ll let Sam know. He likes nothing more than a challenge.” Brodie’s eyes crinkled at the thought. He knew Sam had already sent word to Allan Pinkerton, welcoming any help the man could provide. According to Sam, he believed there was a special place in Hell for men who took advantage of women, such as Arnie Stoddard. Pinkerton had replied within an hour, confirming he’d do what he could to locate Franks.

“I know you’re trying to help me, and I’m grateful. It’s just…”

“What, Maggie?” Brodie gripped her hand tighter, his eyes searching hers.

She shook her head and looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

“If you’re thinking it’s hopeless, you’d be wrong, lass.”

“MacLaren. You’d better come out and listen to this.” Sam stood a few feet from the cell, his gaze switching between Brodie and their joined hands.

He let go of Maggie’s hand and stood. “Get some rest. If you need anything, call for me or one of the deputies.”

She nodded, her expression one of crushing hopelessness. He wished he had more to offer, some type of promise all would be fine. As much as Brodie believed she’d make it through this and Fielder would secure her freedom, he couldn’t swear to it.

Locking the cell, he walked to the front and stepped outside, hearing Syd Stoddard’s now familiar voice. At least twenty men stood outside Buckie’s Castle, listening to him rant about his brother’s murder and the woman being held in jail.

“She don’t need no trial.” Syd’s booming voice rang out up and down the street, causing people to stop and stare. “There’s only one person who wanted Arnie dead.” He pointed toward the jail. “That person is sitting in the jail, waiting for a judge who won’t be in town for weeks. You know who is paying for men to watch her and feed her? The good people of Conviction, that’s who.”

A low rumbling spread through the crowd, although no one made a move toward the jail.

“There ain’t no need for a trial.”

“What are you saying, Syd? We can’t just storm in there and hang a woman.” An older man Brodie recognized as a hand at one of the local ranches stepped forward. “If you have proof she did it, tell the sheriff.”

Brodie, Sam, and Nate spread out, moving closer to the crowd. Glancing over his shoulder, Brodie saw Jack standing in the jail doorway, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. He remembered the evening he’d taken Jack outside to see a demonstration of his shooting skills. Given what he’d seen, he would’ve placed money on Jack taking care of the crowd in front of them all by himself.

Syd ignored the cowhand’s attempt at reason. “She and my brother lived alone in an old cabin up in the hills. She admitted to hitting him over the head and leaving him for dead. I don’t need no more proof than that.”

A few in the crowd nodded, some looking at Brodie and his deputies. Still, no one moved toward the jail.

Brodie had heard enough. “Mr. Stoddard. I’m going to ask you to stop trying to tempt these fine people into doing something they’ll regret.”

“They ain’t going to regret hanging a murderer.”

Brodie stepped next to Stoddard and faced the crowd. “The woman in there is going to get a fair trial. You all know August Fielder.” He watched as most nodded. “You know he doesn’t take on many cases. He’s convinced she’s innocent and has agreed to defend her. I don’t know about you, but I have to take his actions into consideration.”

“That don’t mean anything.”

A shot rang out before Syd could continue, the bullet hitting the ground inches from Brodie’s feet. Shouts and screams followed as people scattered, most heading for cover inside the saloon.

Brodie pulled his gun as he, Sam, and Nate dashed back toward the jail. “You two see anyone?”

“No.” Sam held his gun in front of him, scanning the windows above the saloon.

“It came from up there.” Nate pointed to the building next to Buckie’s.

“The bank?” Brodie asked.

“I’m certain of it.”

“I believe Nate’s right, Sheriff.” Jack glanced at Brodie from his position a few feet away. “The shot hit the ground just behind you.”

“As far as I know, the upstairs is used for storage. I’d better go check it out.”

“Not alone, MacLaren.” Sam moved alongside him as Brodie stepped onto the street.

“Nate, stay here with Jack. Make sure no one gets to Maggie.”

“Yes, sir.” Nate backed into the jail, followed by Jack, then closed the door.

“One cartridge. Fits what we heard.” Sam bent down, picking up the only evidence someone had fired from the window a foot away. “But why shoot at you? It wasn’t that hard a shot.” He glanced out the window to the street below. “Anyone with a little experience could have hit you from here.”

“A warning. Maybe it wasn’t meant to hit either Stoddard or me. Perhaps it was intended to disperse the crowd.”

“Someone tired of hearing Stoddard. If I’d have thought of it, I might have done the same.” Sam grinned as he turned away from the window, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt.

“You’ve an odd sense of humor, lad.”

“You’ve no idea, MacLaren.”

They took one more look around the almost empty room above the bank before leaving for the jail. Brodie didn’t break stride as he walked inside and headed for Maggie’s cell.

“She’s doing fine,” Jack called, but Brodie didn’t hear him.

Unlocking the cell, he took quiet steps to the bed, hearing Maggie’s deep breathing. For the first time in over an hour, he relaxed, letting out the breath he’d been holding. He tried not to make noise as he sat beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. Brodie didn’t know how it happened, how his life had become so connected to hers. Being near her, touching her, had become as important to him as air, food, and water.

Moving his hand, he fingered a strand of her deep mahogany locks. Gwen had washed Maggie’s hair, brushing until it shone, letting it fall in soft curls around her shoulders. She’d offered to braid it for Maggie before Brodie carried her to the jail. Maggie had refused, saying she liked the feel of it against her skin. He agreed, stroking her head.

“Brodie…” Her sleepy voice drew him closer.

“I’m here, lass.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll stay here all night if you want me to.” He cupped her face with his hand, stroking a finger down her cheek.

Turning, she kissed his palm, then placed her own hand over his. “I wish my life were different.”

Clearing the lump in his throat, which had formed the instant her lips touched his skin, Brodie leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his voice husky. “Different in what way, lass?”

She kept her eyes closed, as if opening them would break the spell and erase her courage. “If I were someone else, maybe you could like me.”

“Ah, lass. I already like you. If you knew how much, it would likely scare you.” He cringed as the declaration he’d made a few nights before flashed through his mind. Brodie still didn’t understand what had inspired him to make the confession. At least she’d been asleep and would never know how much of a fool he’d made of himself, or how much he wanted her.

Opening her eyes, she saw the sincerity in his, again wishing they’d met under different circumstances. Something about Brodie MacLaren made Maggie believe he could be her guiding light—a pathway back to the person she used to be.

No matter how she pushed him away, trying to bury her feelings and control her fear of trusting a man, she’d developed a strong affection for the rugged lawman. Her rational mind told her most men were not like Arnie. Her father and grandfather were wonderful. Doc Vickery, August Fielder, Brodie’s deputies, and Brodie had treated her well, often with kindness. Even Joel Stoddard had been her protector, taking his own harsh punishment from Arnie for his efforts.

She wanted…needed, to find her way back. If Fielder could prove her innocence, maybe she could still have her dream, find a man like Brodie, fall in love, marry, and have children. If only…

“Maggie? Are you all right, lass?”

Closing her eyes to clear her rambling thoughts, she nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. A little tired.”

“Then you should rest.” Brodie tugged at the blanket.

“You’ll stay?” Her voice trembled, as if she feared he’d go back on his word.

He stroked his knuckles down her cheek, feeling an instantaneous pull toward the woman he wanted with an intensity that scared him.

“I said I would, lass. All night if you want me to.”

“Thank you.” She leaned into his touch, glancing up, her heart pounding at the intensity in his moss green eyes.

Knowing he shouldn’t, yet unable to stop, he leaned down, brushing his lips across hers. The light touch wasn’t nearly enough. He settled his mouth over hers, taking what she offered for a few brief moments before pulling back, his breath ragged and voice rough.

“Have you eaten?” He stood, needing to put distance between them, if only for a few minutes.

Maggie shook her head, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I’m not hungry. Only tired.” She turned onto her side, facing him.

Nodding, he let out a slow breath before sitting back down and resting his hand on her shoulder.

“Sleep, lass. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Even as her mind shut down, she nodded, willing herself to believe his words were true.

Brodie kept his promise, staying until Maggie woke before dawn. He helped her outside, escorted her back, then left to fetch breakfast for both of them. Sam, Nate, and Jack stopped in, but he sent them on their way. With Maggie the lone occupant of the jail, their services could be put to better use helping to repair earthquake damage, or keeping peace along the docks.