My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) (4 page)

The deputy snatched a key ring from a hook on the wall. “What are you, mister? Crow?”

The Indian lifted his head, black eyes spirited, and nodded.

“How did you fall in with the likes of this woman?” He shoved the man in the cage and turned the key.

“I demand you release me this instant! You can’t grab innocent people—” Anne-Marie glared accusingly at A.J. Donavan. “Innocent nuns,” she amended. She turned pleading eyes to the sheriff. “You can’t just grab me off the street and treat me like common riffraff because some wild man is making ludicrous accusations about—cows.”

“There’s two more of ’em around somewhere,” A.J. warned the sheriff.

“We’ll find them, A.J. They couldn’t have gone far.”

Glaring at the Crow, Anne-Marie warned him silently that if he could speak, he’d better be doing it.

The Indian refused to meet her eyes.

The sheriff smiled reassuringly. “Now, don’t you be worrying your pretty little head, ma’am. You and the Injun will have yourselves a fair trial. I guarantee you that.”

“I demand proper legal representation! Get me an attorney!” Anne-Marie shouted as she clasped the bars with both hands.

“Why certainly, ma’am.” He turned to A.J., smiling. “I believe the lady would like a word with you, A.J.”

Anne-Marie frowned. “He’s my lawyer?”

The sheriff nodded. “Yes, ma’am, but don’t you worry none. Not only is A.J. the town’s finest attorney, but he’s the onliest.”

Anne-Marie’s heart sank. “Onliest what?”

“Onliest attorney.” The sheriff’s smile widened. “He’ll be speaking on you and your friend’s behalf.”

Three

A
nne-Marie sank down on the cot opposite the Indian, frustrated. It had been weeks since they’d sold Donavan that herd of stolen cattle, and she’d have sworn she’d seen the last of him.

Springing back to her feet, she started talking under her breath as she paced the small cell. “Just don’t—how—the man—Amelia—then Abigail said—rotten luck. Pure rotten luck.”

The front door opened and the sheriff came in with A.J. trailing behind. Hooking his hat on a peg, Ferris Goodman walked over to the woodstove and poured two cups of steaming black coffee.

“Sheriff,” Anne-Marie called, “can I have a word with you?”

“No ma’am.”

Handing A.J. a cup of coffee, the sheriff sat down behind his desk. “Now, A.J., tell me again what happened.”

A.J. pointed an accusing finger at Anne-Marie. “That she-devil and two others dressed just like her sold me a herd of stolen beef.”

“You’re certain it was this woman.”

“As sure as hair grows on a pig’s back!”

“And the Crow?”

“I don’t know nothing about the savage, but the way I figure it, he was with her when they rode into town, so they must be in cahoots.”

“Well, your word’s good enough for me.” The sheriff got up and walked to the cell where Anne-Marie stood, gripping the bars. “Don’t suppose you plan on telling me where your sisters are?”

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. I don’t know where they are.”

“Then by the authority vested in me by the great state of Texas, I hereby sentence you and your friend here to hang at sunrise.”

Anne-Marie’s jaw dropped. “Now, just a minute! What happened to my fair trial?”

The sheriff met her eyes with an unwavering gaze. “You just had it.”

“Just had it?” They’d had it, all right, but good.

Returning to his chair, Ferris took a swig of coffee, peering over the rim of the cup at A.J., and raised his voice to talk above Anne-Marie’s vehement protests. “You know, A.J., I’d still like to know how you let yourself get swindled by a woman. Don’t rightly seem like you.”

Red crept up Donavan’s neck. “I hate to admit it, but the woman snookered me slicker than glass. She told me the cattle had been a gift and they had to sell them because the mission couldn’t afford to feed them. Some orphanage they ran needed money, not cattle, she said. Well, Ferris, who’s going to question a nun, much less three of ’em?”

“Well now, I might have questioned getting a top head of cattle for hundreds of dollars below market value,” Ferris argued.

“No, you would have fell for it just like me,” A.J. grumbled. “It sounded on the up-and-up, so I marched myself right over to the bank and got the money real quick like before the sisters could change their minds.”

“Guess you wish you’d marched a little slower?” Ferris appeared to be having a hard time hiding a grin behind the rim of his cup.

“I was there to buy cattle, and the price was right,” A.J. said sullenly.

Ferris broke out laughing. “And you never once suspected them women were pullin’ a fast one on you?”

“Do I look like an idiot, Ferris? Of course I didn’t know I was bein’
played for a fool! Why, that one over there even wrote me out a bill of sale, right there in the saloon, big as all get out.” He snorted. “I should’ve known something was wrong when they hightailed it out of town as soon as they had the money in hand. No one’s seen hide nor hair of ’em since—not until I saw that one ridin’ into town with the Indian, the both of them as brazen as a two-bit floozy.”

The Crow suddenly got to his feet and walked to the front of the cell.

His black eyes pinpointed Anne-Marie. “Gentlemen, twenty-four hours ago I didn’t know this woman existed.”

Anne-Marie’s jaw went slack and she stared back at him. “What?” Had he said what she thought he’d said? Why, the
nerve
—

“I said”—the man’s eyes locked with hers and he repeated in perfect English—“I am not with this woman. I do not know her; I do not want to know her.”

She knew it! He had been deliberately making her think that he couldn’t understand English, and now he not only understood it, but he was speaking it as flawlessly as a professor.

Chairs scraped against the floor. Ferris and A.J. got to their feet.

“You were sure enough with her in the mercantile a while ago,” A.J. reminded him.

“True, but it appears that Mr. Donavan and I have met with the same misfortune, that of being taken in by a wolf in sheep’s clothing… or”—the Indian’s eyes returned to Anne-Marie—“as is the more applicable case, a thief in nun’s clothing.”

“Care to say how she took you?” the sheriff inquired, clearly surprised by the sudden turn of events.

The muscle in the Crow’s jaw tightened visibly. “I rescued her from a jail wagon.”

“Rescued her from a jail wagon, huh?” Goodman and Donavan exchanged amused looks.

“The wagon was being pursued by Comanches. When I saw what I assumed to be three nuns in danger, I rode to their aid.”

“And the other two nuns?” Ferris smirked. “Where might they be?”

“I don’t know. Two other men rode to assist the women at the same time I did.”

“My, my, was that a stroke of luck on them women’s part or what, A.J.? Three men, all ridin’ in to help them nuns at the exact same time?”

“More than a stroke of luck, Ferris. I’d say it was a miracle.” A.J. crowed.

The Crow gripped the bar tightly. “I’m telling you exactly what happened.”

“Well, Injun, you speak real educated-like, but the fact is you rode in the company of a cattle thief, and right now, since I’ve got no way of knowing if you’re telling me the truth about all this jail-wagon and band-of-Comanches stuff, I’m bound by the law to let my decision stand.”

“You are making a mistake,” the Indian warned.

“Could be, but if I was you, I’d just sit back and keep quiet.” Ferris glanced at A.J. and winked. “You and the little lady got yourselves a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Sal?” He spoke to the deputy lounging in the corner. “Keep an eye on things whilst me and Donavan visit the café.”

The man nodded and stretched.

“Well, if that doesn’t beat all.” Anne-Marie whirled to confront the Crow when the door closed behind the two men. “How dare you make me think that you didn’t understand a word I was saying?”

“How dare you pose as a nun?”

“What difference does it make who I am?”

“The difference is that I wouldn’t have given you or your friends a second thought if I hadn’t believed three nuns were about to be scalped.”

“But I was about to be scalped!”

“But you’re not a nun.”

Ripping aside her veil, Anne-Marie freed her long hair to tumble loosely over her shoulders. Her usual way of worming out of tight situations wasn’t working, so it looked like she would be forced to resort
to drastic measures. No man, no matter how infuriating, could resist a helpless, simpering female.

Covering her face with her hands and dropping her chin, she began to sob. After a few moments of theatrics, she spread her fingers, peering out to witness the Indian’s reaction. He was ignoring her. Completely ignoring her.

Discarding the tactic, she switched to her wounded look, a method absolutely no man could survive, no matter how unsympathetic. “Some protector you are,” she accused with trembling lower lip.

Walking back to the cot, he sat down. “Why should I protect you?”

“Because you appointed yourself my protector when you rescued me from the jail wagon yesterday.”

“Today I unappoint myself your protector.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I believe I just did.”

“Fine.” She sat down on the cot, crossing her arms and giving him a cold stare, another surefire tactic to bring a man to his knees, no matter how mean and hateful he was. And this man was the meanest one she’d ever had the misfortune to meet.

“Fine,” he said, and met her cold stare with icy contempt.

They sat in stony silence, staring at each other.

Finally Anne-Marie heaved an aggravated sigh and loosened her confining collar. Reaching into the large pocket sewn into the front of her shirt, she pulled out a piece of ribbon and tied her hair back out of her face.

She caught his glancing look. “Who are you and why did you pretend not to understand English?”

His gaze slid over her impersonally. “Have you no shame? Why would you choose this disguise?” he asked.

“Don’t you question my integrity. I have my reasons.”

His eyes darkened to a dangerous hue. “Only godly women wear the habit. It is a sign of their devotion to the Lord’s work; it is not worn as a ruse to steal from unsuspecting men.”

“I have no idea what that A.J. person was talking about,” she said.
“I haven’t duped anyone out of anything and I didn’t sell any cattle. It’s all a mistake, I tell you, a big mistake.” She wasn’t proud of her actions but sometimes a person had to do what she could to survive—and it wasn’t as though she hadn’t cringed a few times when she wondered how the Lord would judge her means of support. Abigail said that since the money went to a worthy cause it wasn’t really stealing—they were just helping people make donations.

The man shook his head. “Do I look gullible enough to believe that?”

“Well, it could be that you’re no more Indian than I am a nun. You certainly had me fooled into thinking you didn’t speak a word of English.”

He settled back on the cot, leaning against the wall. “At least I’m not impersonating a priest.”

He did for the world look exactly like a full-blooded Indian, but he sure wasn’t acting like one.

“You’re not a normal Indian,” she scoffed. “And if you are, you’re not uncivilized and uneducated like you want everyone to believe.”

He laughed—a cold, mirthless sound in the small cell.

“What do you find so amusing?” They were sitting in a cell, hopeless for the moment. She didn’t have money for bail and he wouldn’t help her. She might sit here for weeks. The sheriff couldn’t be serious about hanging them, of course. He was just trying to scare her.

The Crow shifted. “If what I’ve gotten myself into couldn’t be judged ignorant, I don’t know what would. I’m sitting here in jail with a con artist, waiting to be hanged at sunrise.”

“They’ll never hang us,” she said. “By morning they’ll realize their mistake… ” Her voice died away as the sound of hammering reached them. Stepping to the windows, she peered out, her heart filling her throat when she saw the large platform being erected in front of the jail. “Will you look at that,” she whispered. “What do you suppose they’re building?”

“A gallows.”

Her cheeks burned. “You’re not serious.”

“Do I look like I’m attempting to amuse you?”

She turned to glance over her shoulder at his solemn features. He didn’t look like he was teasing; he looked dead sober.

Shuffling back to the cot, she sat down, sighing. She had always been smart, too smart for her own good, so if the two of them put their heads together, they could think of a way out of this. “Who are you, honestly?”

He shook his head. “It is not important that you know.”

“Tell me your name.” If she was going to die with him, she’d at least like to know his name.

“Creed Walker.”

“That isn’t an Indian name.”

“I didn’t say it was.”