Maureen McKade (29 page)

Passing the cemetery where his father and Maggie were buried, he sent them a reverent nod but continued on home, anxious to see Johnny and Kit. He hoped Kit had thought about what he’d said and was ready to listen to him. He ached to see her smile again, to hold her in his arms, and to spend the night making love.

Jake chided himself for his eagerness. He’d always made fun of those men who’d been lassoed and heeled. Now he found himself in the same position, and he felt anything but tied down; there was only an urgency to see his family again and make amends with Kit. He was no longer obsessed with the ranch, and he’d prove it to her. Patting his saddlebags, he imagined her expression when he gave her his present.

Darkness had fallen when he arrived at the ranch. He dismounted in front of the house, looping the leather reins around the hitching post. Toby greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, and Jake rewarded him with a pat.

Light blazed from the windows, warming Jake with the welcoming sight. His stomach twisted with nervousness. What if Kit still refused to listen to him?

He struck the fear from his mind. He had never run from a fight, and he wasn’t about to begin now. Especially when the stakes were this high. He strode to the house and thundered up the stairs to the porch. He reached for the door, but it swung open and Johnny launched himself into Jake’s arms. He lifted the boy up and Johnny hugged him, burying his face in the curve of his neck.

A love more powerful than he’d ever known overwhelmed Jake, and he couldn’t speak. He held his son close, savoring his clean fresh scent.

“I’m glad you’re home, Pa.”

His muffled words held something more than happiness at seeing him again.

“I’m glad, too, son.” Easing Johnny’s head up, he spied the boy’s swollen eye. “What happened?”

“Mr. Preston did it,” Johnny replied, tears welling in his eyes. “He was hurting Ma and I tried to stop him.”

Bewildered, Jake looked past his son into the house, and found Charlie and Ethan gazing at him. Alarm wrenched Jake’s gut. “Where’s Kit?”

“Ma’s—” Johnny began.

“She’s in town,” Charlie interrupted. “She took the son-of-a-bitch to the doctor.”

Totally confused, Jake glanced at Ethan, whose hostility seemed to have waned since the last time he’d seen him. “What happened, Ethan?”

The young man jerked his head up, and his bronze complexion darkened. “Preston tried to force Kit…”

Black rage filled Jake, and he barely controlled his fury.

“I tried to stop him, Pa,” Johnny said, his slight body shaking in Jake’s arms. “But he was so big, and I thought he was going to chase me.” A sob escaped him. “I had to do it.”

“Do what, Johnny?” Jake tried to keep his voice calm so he wouldn’t further frighten his son.

“Preston was shot,” Charlie interjected. “Kit took him into town. That was a couple of hours ago.”

A tear rolled down Johnny’s face. “It’s my fault.”

Jake thumbed away the moisture. “It wasn’t your fault, Johnny.” He looked at Ethan and Charlie; they were holding something back from him. “Did Kit shoot Preston?”

Charlie glanced at Ethan, who stared down at his feet. Charlie hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, and raised his chin. “Nope.”

Frustration tensed Jake’s muscles. “So you or Ethan did?”

“I shot him,” Johnny blurted out. “Don’t tell Ma I told you. She told me not to tell.”

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He tightened his arms around Johnny. “How bad was Preston hurt?”

“Couldn’t tell,” Charlie replied.

He pierced Charlie and Ethan with a taloned glare. “Why didn’t one of you take him in, instead of Kit?”

“She was afraid them folks in town would string us up,” Charlie stated. “He was backshot.”

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Kit would protect those she cared for, no matter the price she had to pay. “Was she hurt?”

“A few bruises,” Ethan replied.

Fury pulsed through Jake’s skull. He looked at Johnny. “I’m going into town to get your mother.”

The boy dragged his forearm across his eyes. “I want to go with you.”

“No. You stay here with Charlie and Ethan.”

Jake deposited a reluctant Johnny into Charlie’s arms. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

His fury thrumming a tattoo in his mind, he stalked to his horse. Jake ran a hand down the animal’s damp neck, then jumped into the saddle.

Jake tried to keep his mind blank, his thoughts focused on the road and nothing more. If he allowed himself to think about Kit, about what Preston had attempted, Jake was afraid he’d not be able to control his rage.

My son shot a man in the back
. Anguish washed through Jake. Johnny’d only been protecting his mother, but the stigma of a backshooter was something Jake never wanted anyone he loved to have to face. Even if his son had done the right thing.

Twenty minutes later, he reached Chaney and hurried inside the doctor’s office.

“Dr. Lewis!” Jake hollered.

The cantankerous doctor came out of the back room, scowling at Jake. “What in tarnation is your problem, Cordell?”

“I’m looking for my wife.”

“You got married and didn’t invite me to the wedding?” Dr. Lewis sounded hurt.

Jake blinked. “Kit and I were married over a month ago. You must’ve been out of town.”

“Well, someone could’ve told me. I never know what’s going on.”

“That’s for sure,” Jake mumbled. “Have you seen Kit?”

“Pretty gal with blond hair?”

Jake choked back his frustration. “That’s her.”

“Brought that newspaperman here with a bullet in him. Said she shot him.”

Why wasn’t Jake surprised? She was like a she-wolf protecting her young. A band seemed to squeeze his chest. “You believe her?”

Dr. Lewis shook his head. “Kinda hard for a body to shoot someone in the back if they’re being attacked.”

So Lewis wasn’t nearly as offtrack as he appeared. “Is Kit in the back room?”

“What in tarnation would she be doing back there? Preston is the only patient I got right now.”

Relief and disappointment warred in Jake. “Then he’s alive?”

“Well, I don’t take dead patients.”

Jake raked his hand through his hair. “Where’s Kit?”

“Down at the jail.”

Jake’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Was she arrested?”

“Do I look like a judge?” Lewis studied Jake through
his glasses. “You look a bit like a judge I used to know. Judge Cordell. Any relation?”

Jake spun around and hurried out before he lost all patience.

Briskly walking down the boardwalk, he almost bowled over the mayor.

“Jake, good to see you,” Walters greeted. “Do you know your wife’s in jail?”

“Now I do,” Jake stated through clenched teeth.

He strode past the puffed-out pigeon.

Walters retreated, but called out in righteous indignation, “I warned you about her before you got married.”

“I think you’d better find out where Fanny spends her evenings before you cast any stones,” Jake snarled back.

The mayor’s eyes bulged out like a fish’s, and Jake took satisfaction in the man’s shock. He continued on to the police station and barreled into the office.

Jameson scrambled to his feet, and moved to block the entrance to the cells. “Hold on now, Mr. Cordell. You can’t go barging in like you own the place.”

Jake stopped toe-to-toe with Jameson. “I’m going to see Kit, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Jameson crossed his arms, and shook his head. “Forget it, Cordell. She shot a man in the back.”

Jake drew back his fist and struck the younger man in the jaw. Jameson crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Jake shook his stinging hand. “Nobody calls my wife a backshooter.” He stepped over the prone officer. “Besides, you’ve had that coming for fifteen years.”

Chapter 20

K
it sensed Jake’s presence, and looked past Freda and Patrick to see his approaching figure. Her heart skipped a beat at the wide breadth of his shoulders, and his easy, confident gait. Everything would be all right now. Her tardy hero had arrived.

Jake tipped his hat to Freda. “Evening.” He turned to Patrick. “You might want to clean the trash off your floor.”

The Irishman narrowed his eyes. “And what trouble have you been gettin’ into?”

“Jameson thought he could keep me from seeing my wife.”

Kit’s grip tightened on the metal bars.
My wife
. The possessiveness in his tone brought a shiver of delight. Did she dare hope he really loved her, as he’d claimed?

He turned his gaze on her, and his expression softened. “Kit.”

A lump filled her throat, and she gazed at him with undisguised love.

Jake turned to the police sergeant, his features cast in granite. “Why’s she in jail?”

Patrick appeared miserable. “Preston was shot in the back.”

“The son-of-a-bitch deserved it.”

Kit studied Jake, wondering how much he knew.

“I’m agreein’ with you, lad, but you know the law better ’n me.” The Irishman put his arm around Freda. “Come on, Freda. We’d best be leavin’ these two alone.”

He guided Freda out, and Kit heard Patrick trying to wake Jameson. Alone with Jake, Kit didn’t know how to breach the awkward silence. She could only gaze at him: his dusty clothes, which told her he hadn’t taken time to change before he came to Chaney, and the whiskers that shadowed his strong jaw.

Jake moved to stand directly in front of her, then wrapped his fingers around hers. “I’m sorry, Kit.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“For not being here.”

Unable to meet his sorrowful gaze, she stared at a point behind him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“The hell it wasn’t!” His forceful exclamation startled her. “If I hadn’t gone out of town, he wouldn’t have hurt you or Johnny. And you wouldn’t be in jail.”

She reached through the bars and put her palm against his chest. His heart thumped against her hand as his warmth invaded her skin. “Everything will be all right, Jake.”

“These ‘good folks’ of Chaney are going to be sorry they tangled with Mr. and Mrs. Jake Cordell.”

He hadn’t asked her what happened, yet he believed without a doubt she was innocent. When had his trust become unconditional?

When he realized he loved you, a little voice in her mind answered.

Kit took hold of his shirt front and pulled him toward her. “Shut up and kiss me, Jake.”

He stared at her a moment, then, as a slow smile slid across his sensuous lips, he tipped his hat back off his
forehead and leaned forward. Between the cold metal bars, his tender mouth slanted across hers. Sultry heat poured through her limbs, dispersing the cold emptiness of the jail.

Jake broke the kiss a few moments later, his breath coming in a ragged gasp. “I’ve missed you, Kit.”

She swallowed. “I missed you, too, Jake. Have you seen Johnny yet?”

He nodded and grimaced. “I saw him. I shouldn’t have told him to take care of you while I was gone. It was too much responsibility for a kid.”

“I’m sorry, Jake. I had no idea David would try something like that.” She paused. “He’s the one who ambushed you and killed Zeus.”

Surprise lit his expression. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “He told me right before he …”

“I need to know exactly what happened,” he said softly.

She gazed into his empathy-filled eyes. Taking a deep breath, she related how David had shown up at the ranch.

“He threatened Johnny’s life if I didn’t cooperate with him. I couldn’t risk Johnny being hurt or killed, so I did as Preston said. We went up to the bedroom and he—” she faltered. “He kissed me and touched me.” Kit shuddered with remembered revulsion. “Johnny must’ve heard something, because he came into the bedroom and tried to get Preston to stop hurting me. Preston hit him—I thought he was going to kill him. I told Johnny to run.”

“Did he?” Jake prompted.

Kit nodded. “Thankfully, Preston didn’t chase him. Next thing I knew, Preston was on top of me on the bed.” Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks.

“I have to know the rest. How did Preston get shot in the back?”

She looked up at him, and his searching gaze didn’t waver from her. Kit had thought she could withhold the truth from him, but she found she couldn’t. She had to learn to trust. There had been enough deceit between them.

Swiping aside her tears, she continued. “Johnny got your father’s gun, which I kept in my desk.” Kit tightened her grip on Jake’s hands. “Johnny shot Preston. If he hadn’t, Preston would’ve raped me.”

Jake scrutinized her with unfathomable intensity. He eased from her grasp and framed her face in his palms. “I’m glad you told me the truth.”

She blinked. “You already knew?”

He nodded. “Johnny let it slip. Our marriage was started on the wrong side of trust, and I didn’t help matters when I didn’t tell you about the loan papers.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out an official-looking piece of paper. “I know this isn’t a very good time, but I want you to have this.”

He handed her the document. Kit stared at him a moment, wondering at the almost childlike eagerness in his expression. She scanned the deed, and her vision blurred. He’d signed the ranch over to her. She lifted her teary gaze to him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He shook his head. “Yes, I did. The ranch means nothing to me. It’s you and Johnny that matter.”

She believed him now, as well as the words of love he’d spoken three days ago. Kit slid her hand between the bars and threaded her fingers through his. “Thank you, Jake,” she said, her throat raw with love.

Uncharacteristic bleakness darkened his expression. “If we don’t have Johnny testify, we’re going to have a hard time proving self-defense. And knowing some of our fine citizens, there’ll be some pretty ugly gossip, too.”

“Like the current one that says I invited Preston over,
then tried to seduce him?” Bitterness tightened her mouth.

Jake’s stomach clenched at her pain, and he wished he could spare her the next few days. Instead, he nodded.

“Words have never hurt me before, Jake. I won’t let them start now, especially since the alternative is having Johnny up on the stand,” Kit stated, determination ringing in her tone. “You have to protect him.”

“No court would convict a five-year-old boy for protecting his mother. Let me talk to Patrick, tell him what really happened,” Jake argued.

“No! I’ll take my chances.”

“What if it looks like Preston will get away with it?”

Her eyes became haunted, but no less resolute. “Do you want Johnny to be called a backshooter? A reputation like that will never disappear. He’d be branded a coward the rest of his life.”

He gazed at the stubborn tilt of Kit’s chin, the iron will in her somber expression. He’d never known a woman as uncompromising in her beliefs. He’d never known a woman who would die to protect those she loved.

He’d never known a woman like Kit.

He wanted to groan in frustration. Defending her against an attempted murder charge would be easier than defending her against town sentiment. And he’d have to do both, without Johnny’s testimony.

The trial ahead frightened him more than any gun duel he’d been involved in, because the stakes were the highest he’d ever encountered. If he lost, Kit would go to prison. Johnny would lose his mother, and Jake wouldn’t be able to live with himself, knowing he hadn’t done everything he could to defend her.

He hadn’t expected his first trial case to be a personal battle for his wife’s life.

* * *

“Damn it, there’s got to be somebody around here who’s had some bad dealings with Preston.” Jake rubbed his grizzled jaw and paced back and forth across the straw-covered floor.

Charlie curried Satan’s mane in a hypnotic motion. “I ain’t heard anything bad about him the whole time he’s been here. What about before he come to Chaney? He get in any trouble back where he come from?”

Jake halted in front of Satan’s stall and leaned against the top rail. “I’ve got someone checking on him back in Chicago. That’s where Preston grew up. The problem is, we’re running out of time. The trial starts tomorrow, and I have nothing.”

“And Preston has everyone eatin’ out of his hand,” Charlie growled. “Pretendin’ he’s the hurt one. How’s Kit doin’?”

“As well as can be expected. I took some more clothes in for her yesterday morning. Freda got Patrick to let her out long enough to take a bath at her place.” Jake held his hand out to the midnight-colored stallion, who nuzzled it with his velvety nose. “She’s not sleeping, though, and she’s been sick.”

“She tell you that?”

Jake laughed without humor. “She keeps telling me she’s fine, and not to worry.” He spun around, startling the stud horse. “How can I not worry about her? Johnny keeps asking me when his mother’s coming home, then he wants to go see her. It damn near kills me to see him cry for her at night.”

“What about you?” Charlie asked in a low, rumbly voice. “How’re you holding up?”

Flattening his palm against a post, Jake leaned forward and hung his head. “I want her back home where she belongs.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

Jake straightened and gazed at Charlie. “Helluva lot good it does now.”

Pete Two Ponies stepped out of the shadows. “And a lot of good feelin’ sorry for yourself is doin’ for her, too.”

Startled, Jake tossed Pete a glare. “I wish you wouldn’t pop in and out like that.” He narrowed his eyes. “How do you do that, anyhow?”

Two Ponies shrugged. “Old Indian trick.” He approached Jake, aiming a gnarled forefinger at him. “There’s only one way to fight fire.”

Jake nodded impatiently. “Yeah, with fire. What does that have to do with defending Kit?”

“You say that newspaperman has everyone believing he’s one of your god’s saints. Maybe you ought to be creatin’ your own saint.”

A smile grew across Charlie’s broad face. “That’s a mighty fine idea for a broken-down Indian.”

Puzzled, Jake looked from Pete to Charlie and back. “I don’t get it.”

Two Ponies frowned. “I thought heroes were supposed to be smart.”

Charlie snickered and came out of Satan’s stall. “At least smarter ’n the bad guys.” He clapped Jake on the back. “Let me explain it to you.”

Two hours later, Jake sipped coffee in Freda’s kitchen.

“What is a ‘character witness’?” she asked.

“People who will testify that someone is basically a good person,” Jake explained. “I was hoping you would be a character witness for Kit.”

Freda nodded vehemently. “I will, if it will help her.”

Jake smiled. “I thought you might. I know a lot of folks in this town don’t think much of her, but could you come up with a few others who might testify on her behalf?”

She thought a minute, then nodded, a sly grin sneaking across her face. “Many people I know who stay quiet, but Kit has helped them. Maybe if you talk to them, shame them into speaking up, they will do so.”

Jake pulled a paper and pencil from his pocket. “Give me their names and what Kit did for them. I’ll take it from there.”

Kit heard the inner door open, and she laid her pencil and paper on the thin cot. Patrick came to her cell and unlocked the door.

“Time to face the judge,” he announced in a gentle voice.

Kit swallowed back the trepidation blocking her throat, and pressed her spectacles up on her nose. Smoothing her dress over her thighs, she stood up. A wave of dizziness threatened to upset her stomach, and she folded her arms, pressing them against her abdomen.

“Are you all right, lass?” Patrick asked in concern.

“I haven’t been sleeping very well.” She hoped she wouldn’t get sick in the courtroom. “I’ll be all right.”

She could tell she hadn’t quelled his worry, but her own fears consumed her. Patrick guided her out of the police station to one of the saloons that doubled as a courtroom. The smell of flat beer, stale smoke, and unwashed bodies nauseated her. She cupped her hand over her nose, blocking out only a portion of the vile odors. She gagged, and only sheer force of will kept her from vomiting.

Keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead, Kit didn’t allow herself to look at the people who filled the chairs. Her chest tightened, and she couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs. Jake’s tall, impressive figure came into view and he took hold of her hands, helping her into one of the two chairs at the front. He sat beside her.

“Are you all right? Your face is as white as a sheet,”
he said, keeping his warm fingers wrapped around her ice-cold ones.

Her lungs expanded, replenishing her oxygen, and the nausea abated slightly. She gazed at the familiar angles and contours of Jake’s beloved face, the face that had kept her sane during the long, lonely nights in her cell. The loving concern in his expression brought tears to her eyes. All she wanted was to go home and fall asleep in the circle of his arms.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say in reassurance.

“Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”

Kit nodded. “I know. My hero’s never let me down before.”

A smile twitched Jake’s lips. “Not even when he had to be dragged out of the saloon?”

“Only make-believe heroes are perfect,” she said gently. “I prefer mine to be slightly flawed.”

Jake kissed her, and for a moment they were all alone, oblivious to the roomful of spectators.

The judge entered, and Jake helped Kit to her feet. Once the black-robed man was seated, she lowered herself back into her chair.

Judge Blair banged his gavel once on the scarred poker table, and silence ensued. Glancing at the paper in front of him, the judge scowled. He looked at Jake. “You must be Jonathan Cordell’s son.”

Jake nodded. “That’s right, Your Honor.”

“Played poker with your father a few times. A helluva bluffer.”

“I didn’t know that.”

The judge studied Jake. “Couldn’t stop talking about his son, either. He was mighty proud of you going to law school.”

Kit looked up at Jake, who appeared startled. Sensing his overwhelming emotion, she laid her hand on his forearm.