Robin Lee Hatcher (33 page)

“That’s just it, Mrs. Chandler. He shot and killed a man last fall. I let that go, seein’ as he had that head wound where the bullet grazed him. Looked like self-defense to me. But I can’t let this go. They were out in that storm together, and Saunders was killed with Hawk’s knife. There’s talk that he and Saunders exchanged heated words a while back.”

Hawk said, “I never met the man before yesterday.”

“That’s what you say. Others say different.”

“Who?”

The sheriff shook his head. “Enough talkin’. I need you to come along quietlike. Don’t make me put the cuffs on you.”

“But why would he help them find the body if he was guilty?” Bethany took hold of Hawk’s arm, as if she could hold him there.

“That’ll be up to a judge and jury to decide.” The sheriff cocked his head toward the waiting horses. “Let’s go.”

Panic swirled through her veins.

“It’ll be all right,” Hawk said softly. “Let Rand know what’s happened. And don’t stay here alone. Do you hear me? Make sure someone is with you all the time.”

She nodded, still clutching his arm.

He kissed her on the forehead. “It’ll be okay.” Then he turned and walked toward the horses, the sheriff at his side.

As the tears flowed, she blinked furiously, desperate to keep sight of him. She watched him mount his horse, saw him look back and nod at her. Then he and Sheriff Cook rode out of the yard.

No one spoke for a long while. A horse snorted, another stomped its foot, another nickered softly.

Rusty stepped toward Bethany. “What do you want us to do, Mrs. Chandler?”

She drew a deep breath to calm her screaming nerves. “I need someone to ride up to the Howard place. Rand must know what’s happened. I’m going to ride into town to stay in my parents’ house until Hawk is free again.”

“He said you weren’t to be alone, ma’am.”

“Westy can come with me.” She looked toward the cowboy in question. “Is that all right with you?”

“Anything you want, Miz Chandler. But I’m thinking you’d best have another woman there too.”

She shook her head in exasperation; it seemed she was determined to ruin her own reputation, and others were forever trying to rescue her from it.

“Hopefully Hawk will be free by tonight.” She looked at Rusty again. “Please ask Mrs. Howard to come and stay with me in town.” Drawing another deep breath, she looked at the remaining cowhands. “I’ll need you to look out for the place until Hawk and I return.”

She received a series of nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Westy, if you wouldn’t mind, please saddle Buttercup while I put a few things together.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be ready when you are.”

“He murdered a man in cold blood. You ought to string him up now.”

Hawk wasn’t sure who said that, but the voice seemed familiar.

“Nobody’s hanging anybody,” Sheriff Cook answered. “I’ll hold Chandler until the circuit judge comes through. He’ll get a fair trial, like anybody else.”

Hawk turned his back toward the doorway and leaned against the iron bars of his cell. Someone was out to get him, and he wasn’t sure he’d get a fair trial. But at least the sheriff was sober these days. Hawk was thankful for that. There wouldn’t be any lynching by a mob. His fate would be decided by a court of law and not some angry mob. Sheriff Cook would make sure of it.

He remembered the frightened look on Bethany’s face when the sheriff had taken him away. She’d tried hard to be brave for his sake, but she’d been plenty scared. Just last night he’d sworn he wouldn’t let harm come to her. He’d promised himself that he would die first. Trouble with that was, if he was dead, he couldn’t protect her.

And something down deep inside told him that she might be in as much danger as he was.

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for God’s protection for all of them — for his wife and their unborn child and for him.

Bethany went to the jail as soon as she got to town. Seeing Hawk in that small cell stirred the fear in her heart. The cot mattress looked lumpy, the blanket worn and none too clean.

“Are you all right?” She reached through the bars and took his hand in hers.

“I’m fine.”

He was lying. He wasn’t fine. She saw it in his eyes. He was worried. Why had she ever thought his gaze enigmatic? It seemed to her now that she could read his mind.

“But what are you doing here, Bethany? I told you — ”

“I’m not alone. Westy is with me. I’m going to stay in town until the sheriff releases you.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve asked Ingrid to stay with me too. I’m sure she and Rand will be here shortly.”

Hawk nodded. “Good.”

She leaned closer to the bars, lowering her voice. “Who would do this? Someone set you up. They used your knife so you would be accused of the murder.”

“I’ve thought the same thing. I just can’t figure out how my knife fell into his hands.”

His
hands, Hawk had said. He had someone in mind. And then she knew. “Vince Richards?” A shiver passed through her. “But he wasn’t involved in the hunt. Nor were any of his ranch hands.”

“I know. It doesn’t make sense, but I’m sure he’s behind it somehow. Maybe Rand will have some ideas when he gets here.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Chandler,” the sheriff said from the doorway. “You’ll have to leave now. You can come back in the morning.”

It felt as if someone were tearing out her heart when Hawk let go of her hand. She didn’t want to leave him in this horrible, cold, drafty place. He didn’t belong here. He belonged with her. He was innocent. How could anyone think him guilty?

“It’ll be okay, Bethany. God will look after us.”

FORTY

Sleepless and aware of every creak and moan the house made in the deep of night, Bethany slipped her arms into the sleeves of her robe, then left the bedroom, careful not to make a sound. Ingrid and Rand had retired several hours before and were surely sound asleep.

After reaching the ground floor, she went to her father’s study, where she lit the lamp before settling into the comfortable chair behind the desk. It was here that her father had written his sermons, here that he had prayed for her and for others.

She laid her cheek against the desk, eyes closed, heart aching. If her father were here, he would know what to do. “What would you tell me to do, Papa?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure about your father,” a voice said from the corner of the room, “but I have a suggestion.”

Startled, she straightened.

“I advise you not to scream, my dear.” Vince Richards moved into the light of the lamp. “If you do, you’ll never hear my offer to help your husband.”

She looked behind his shoulder to the closed study door. The room felt as small as Hawk’s jail cell.

“Please, hear me out.” He sat opposite her. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?”

“Yes. You come with me to the Bar V. You leave a note saying that you have left of your own accord. You agree to marry me once you are legally free of Hawk Chandler. You do these things, and I will provide proof that another man killed Saunders.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m a man of my word. Haven’t I made it clear from the start that I meant for you to be my wife? I will keep this promise as well.”

“You must be mad.”

His eyes narrowed as his mouth curved into a one-sided smile.

She shuddered. He was insane — and evil.

“Well, my dear. What is your answer? It’s late, and we should be going.”

“No one would believe I left of my own accord. They know I love Hawk.”

“What they know is that you left him once before. It should be easy enough for them to see that his current troubles were the last straw.” He stood. “And if you want to save his life, you’ll be sure they believe it.”

If she screamed for Rand’s help, Hawk might not be freed. He might hang for something he didn’t do. And then there was the way Vince looked at her. An odd light that warned he would do her harm if she called for help. If she was the only one in danger, she would take a chance, but there was the baby to think about. There was Hawk to think about. What choice did she have?

Ingrid hastened along the boardwalk, her pulse racing, her breath forming in white clouds before her. When she entered the sheriff ’s office, she found the deputy pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Mr. Delaney, I need to see Sheriff Cook.”

He gave her a quick glance, then set the pot back atop the black iron stove. “Sorry, Miz Howard. He ain’t here. He’s over havin’ himself breakfast at the restaurant.”

Ingrid knew that, of course. Sheriff Cook was a man of routine and ingrained habits. He ate breakfast at Mrs. Jenkins’s Restaurant at the same time every morning.

“Then you may help me,” she said. “I need to see your prisoner.”

Delaney cocked an eyebrow.

“I have come on behalf of his wife. She . . . she could not come this morning. She is so upset about what has happened she has made herself unwell. But she has a message for him which I promised to deliver.”

“Well, I suppose it won’t hurt nothin’ for you to have a minute or two. But that’s all you’ll get.”

She nodded.

The deputy crossed the room, took the ring of keys from the nail in the wall beside the jamb, unlocked the door, and opened it wide. “Two minutes. That’s all.”

When Hawk saw her in the doorway, he rose from the cot. Ingrid held up a hand in front of her round belly, motioning for him to be silent. Then she glanced over her shoulder. The deputy had moved to the window, where he stood, staring outside, sipping his coffee. She held her breath, reached out, and slipped the key ring from the nail. Somehow she did it all without the keys jingling a warning. When she looked at Hawk again, she saw him watching her with a puzzled expression. She shook her head, again pleading for him not to say a word.

Reaching the cell, she slipped the key ring from her hand to his. “Bethany is in trouble,” she whispered. “Rand is waiting for you by the river. He’s got your horse. I will take care of the deputy.” She leaned closer. “And be careful, both of you.”

Her heart hammering in her ears, she hurried back into the office. “Deputy!” she cried, at the same moment hugging her belly. “Oh, help me.” She bent forward at the waist.

“Miz Howard, what is it?”

“Something is wrong. The baby. It is the baby. Please, get me to the doctor.”

“Well, I — ”

“Ooooh! Please. Help me. I cannot make it on my own.”

“Okay. Okay.” His left arm went around her back. His right hand grabbed her by the right elbow. “Don’t worry. We’ll git you there.”

As Deputy Delaney helped Ingrid down the street, she wondered if she and Rand would find themselves in the cell next to Hawk’s before this was over. But the dangers of that mattered little compared to needing Bethany to be safe. The only people she trusted to make that happen were Hawk and Rand, so she prayed for God’s speed for them both.