The Redhead and the Preacher: A Loveswept Historical Romance (37 page)

“Angel?”

“You said Solomon helped Gingerbelle. ’Member? Well, I knew what you was talking about ’cause mules they don’t know how to draw water from the well. It was my story from the Bible. My mama read it to me. That’s where she got my name, Rebekah.”

Macky searched her memory. “Rebekah?”

“Rebekah drew water from the well and give it to a strange man. The man was really an angel and God sent him to love her. I just waited for the angel to come and find me.”

Macky gave the child a smile and hugged her. She’d reread the story of Rebekah at the well someday. In the meantime she hugged the little girl. Calling Solomon an angel was stretching things. But even her father had said that God worked in mysterious ways.

If he’d just find Bran and send him back, she’d never ask for anything else again.

“I’m really sorry I have to do this, Miss Calhoun, or should I say Mrs. Adams, but until we get to the bottom of this, I have to follow the law.” Sheriff Dover’s regret was as genuine as his curiosity.

“Just call me Macky. And don’t worry, I understand I have to be arrested. I was at the bank and I did keep the money. But I always intended to take what my father was cheated out of and send the rest back.”

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of getting the prisoner from
Promise to confirm your story and the judge will let you go. Once he learns that Larkin and Pratt are dead, he’ll sing like a bird to protect himself. I have to bring him here, then we’ll leave for Denver for the trial.”

“Why Denver?”

“Because I don’t want to be lynched and that’s what will happen if I try your case here. I need the judge’s protection.”

“Just put me behind bars, Sheriff. It doesn’t matter where.”

“Well, technically you are under arrest, but I can’t put you in a jail cell,” the kindly man standing in her doorway said. “I already have a male prisoner there. I’ve arranged to house you at Lorraine’s until we leave.”

The sheriff took a long look at Macky before adding, “You know you didn’t have to stay away from Promise. Nobody blamed you for your brother’s troubles. I might have been able to help.”

“Thanks, Sheriff Dover, but I didn’t know how to ask. After Todd moved into town, it was better if I stayed away.”

“So you grew up out there on that pitiful piece of land all by yourself. I don’t think I would have recognized you if I’d seen you that day in town.”

“I wasn’t by myself. My father was there.”

“Still, I feel bad about what happened. I’ll try to make this as easy as possible for you now.”

“Fine.” Listlessly Macky climbed the ladder to the loft where she exchanged her dress for her brother’s clothes. Without Bran, none of this mattered anyway. She had no future and she’d burned her past. This was as good a place as any for a woman like her.

She allowed her fingertips to caress the green gingham dress one last time, then placed the garment in her portmanteau. Next she added her mother’s cameo and Bran’s silver feather. She’d joined Pratt’s gang as a boy and she’d go to jail as a boy. The redhead who was the preacher’s wife would be left behind with the fancy clothes and crinoline petticoat.

She heard Sheriff Dover leave the cabin, while she laced
her boots and braided her hair, giving her a moment of grateful solitude. The tiny cabin had been her home—their home—for only a few days, yet she didn’t want to leave. She’d never experienced such joy anywhere else. Now there was only pain.

She couldn’t complain; she’d been lucky. Many women never knew the happiness Bran had given her. And she didn’t regret one moment of what they’d shared. But as the days passed, she’d given up hope that Bran would return. Without him she was only half a person.

With a deep sigh, she looked around again. Time to go, she decided and stepped out the cabin door where the sheriff waited with an extra saddled horse.

“Mrs. Mainwearing was glad to get her coins back, Mrs. Adams. You know the explosion in her mine repositioned the vein and she’s lost it.”

“I’d think that she’d be well off if she never found another ounce of gold.”

“No. It seems that she’d followed Moose’s instructions and grubstaked most of the prospectors in these mountains. That and the charitable contributions she made to some home for wayward women in San Francisco took a lot of her money. She can live comfortably, but she’s determined not to let Moose down.”

“What about the gold the marshal stole?”

“Except for one bag that Pratt managed to steal, there’s been no sign of it or the deeds and IOU’s. Until we go through all the banking records in the territory, we won’t know where he deposited any of it.”

“Does that mean that the prospectors’ claims are also missing?”

“Looks that way. Judge Hardcastle seems like a man with a good head on his shoulders,” the sheriff observed. “He’ll probably rule in absentia for the people who were cheated.”

“And Mrs. Mainwearing?”

“Looks like the judge may take care of her future as well. Good man, the judge. I predict that he’ll have a lasting
influence on the legal system in this country. A hundred years from now, we’ll still be hearing about a judge named Hardcastle.”

They were almost back to town when Macky remembered what the judge said about putting her under house arrest at Lorraine’s. “Who do you have in jail now, Sheriff Dover?”

“A man who is determined to be punished in spite of the possible consequences.”

That didn’t make any sense. “What consequences?”

“Well, for one thing, my popularity is already at an all-time low. Now the good folks of Heaven will probably make up a necktie party with the judge leading the mob.”

There was something about the tone in his voice that told Macky he was hiding something. He almost sounded as if he were teasing her. “Who? Who have you arrested?”

“He says his real name is John Brandon Lee. But the folks in Heaven call him Night Eyes.”

“You have Bran in jail? You bully! He isn’t guilty of anything except doing your job for you. Where did you find him? When?”

“Now, wait a minute. I didn’t find him. He found me. And he’s been there since early this morning.”

“But why? You don’t have any reason to hold him. Pratt held up the bank. I was there. I saw him. I confessed.”

“Do you really think that a judge could accept the word of a man’s wife? Maybe under normal circumstances, but to believe that this man’s wife just happened to ride into town with the gang because she was going to miss her stage?”

“But I’m not his wife, Sheriff. Honest, you have to believe me. My name is McKenzie Kathryn Calhoun. You’ve known me for ten years. You know I’m not married. And you know I don’t lie.”

“True enough. And maybe you could testify. Still, it isn’t that simple, Macky. The preacher isn’t being held for murdering the banker. It’s for the killing of that army officer
back on the reservation. And Bran has confessed. He did it and he swears he’d do it again.”

“But that was fifteen years ago, and the man was going to hurt a woman. He was beating the Indian boy, who was only trying to protect his mother. You have to believe Bran.”

“I do, but if there is still an outstanding warrant for him, he’ll never be able to live without looking over his shoulder. He wouldn’t even let me tell you he was here.”

“Why not? Did he think I would try to break him out of jail?”

Now that she thought about it, that wasn’t a bad idea. With the trial delayed, she’d have time to get to the bottom of that murder, if she could just get her strength back. Somewhere there had to be records to Bran’s claim of brutality by the officer, maybe a witness. She’d send Hank Clay to the fort to ask some questions. She’d send back East for a fancy lawyer.

Catfish and toad frogs!
The sheriff had all her money. How on earth could she pay anybody to do anything? Solomon! If he was back she could sell him. But who’d want a mule that thought he was an angel? Then it came to her. The cameo. She still had that. Macky groaned. She was right back where she started, trying to raise money to get out of town.

She had a strange feeling that Sheriff Dover hadn’t believed a word she’d said the day of the revival. But if he thought she’d let Bran take all the blame for what had happened, he had another thought coming.

Suddenly, Macky felt a sense of confidence fill her. Bran might not want her help, but he was going to get it. And once he was free, she had the perfect means of repayment. Ah, yes. Revenge would be sweet.

B
ran lay on the bare bunk in the cell and dozed. He felt a sense of peace settle over him, something he’d missed for most of his life. Always seeking, finding, enacting punishment on those who deserved it, then moving on. Never stopping, never giving himself the time to reflect on what he’d done or where he was going. For the first time he had time to reflect on what he’d accomplished.

He hadn’t been the one to kill Larkin, but the man was dead. Bran had watched in shock as Macky’s gun had fired first, followed a fraction of a second later by four others. The sheriff and the judge had been at a loss to decide who to charge with the shooting. In the end they’d simply said it was death by gunshot misadventure.

There was a time when Bran thought that his life would be complete if he found his family’s killer. But it wasn’t. There was a hole in it a mile wide and a heart-smile deep.
He couldn’t hide behind the truth any longer. He’d fallen in love and the woman he loved could never be his.

The lesson had been clear from the start. He’d not forget it again. The people he loved died and Macky would be the last person he’d endanger. When he’d seen her crumple in his arms, he’d died a little with her.

Then he’d been given one last chance to redeem himself. He could save Macky’s life, then protect her future by assuming the guilt for her crime and turning himself in. He’d done so. She wasn’t the same girl who’d stepped on that stage in Promise. She was confident and secure and the people in Heaven loved her. Now she would be free.

But he couldn’t erase the shock on her face when she’d taken the bullet meant for him and collapsed in his arms. Nor could he forget her words. “I love you, Bran.”

Later, on the mountain, when he’d seen her in his vision, he’d told her that he loved her, too. That was the only time he’d ever allow himself to say the words. He’d taken them straight from his heart and left it forever damaged. But he’d learn to live with that.

Macky was safe and that was all John Brandon Lee wanted now.

“What will happen to Bran?” Macky asked the sheriff as they rode into town.

“He’ll have to stand trial for the officer’s murder. Bran admits he killed the soldier. That doesn’t give you people much room to maneuver.”

“You people?”

They reached Hell Street and rode slowly toward the saloon. As they passed the businesses, the owners stepped outside and fell in behind the horses as if Macky and the sheriff were the Pied Piper and they were mice following behind.

“It seems everybody in town thinks both of you ought to be set free.”

Macky looked around in amazement. Back in Promise, the townsfolk were happy to see anybody in her family leave. Now the people of Heaven were closing in around the sheriff so that they couldn’t move.

“All right, women!” the familiar voice of Clara Gooden called out. “Let’s go.”

Before Macky could dismount, Ethel Cribbs, Clara Gooden, Lorraine Lake, Rachel Pendley, and Letty Marsh followed Sylvia Mainwearing through the swinging doors of the saloon carrying crudely drawn posters and signs. Free Our Macky and Our Preacher, one sign said. Don’t Mess with the Folks in Heaven or You’ll Find Your Way to Hell, another read. Macky was stunned.

In the jail, Bran stood and looked out the window to see what was causing the commotion. Then he caught sight of a red-haired woman surrounded by people.
Macky. What are you up to now?

As he watched, Preston Cribbs and a line of men marched out of the livery stable singing at the top of their lungs. “ ‘Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war …’ ”

Judge Hardcastle could be seen looking out a window on the second floor of Lorraine’s saloon.

“Now just a minute,” Sheriff Dover protested. “What’s this all about?”

Sylvia drew even with the sheriff and motioned for the protesters to be silent. “It’s like this, Sheriff. We’ve decided not to let you take your prisoners to Denver, not unless you want to arrest every man and woman in Heaven. The judge is here. The jury is here, and if you must conduct a trial, do it here. We’ve impounded a panel of twelve honest men and appointed someone to speak for the prisoners.”

Sheriff Dover bit back a smile. He didn’t intend to tell them that this was exactly what he’d had in mind. Let them think they’d pulled it off. That would make the future of his prisoners even more secure.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Only problem is that Mr. Lee’s trial
will be a military trial and we don’t have that kind of authority here.”

“Not Mr. Lee,” someone called out.

“No, it’s Brother Adams,” Clara Gooden corrected.

“Quiet down!” Sylvia instructed. “Let me get on with our plans. Sheriff Dover, Preston Cribbs has already drawn up a petition to drop the charges that Bran murdered that army officer. We’re going to have Hank Clay and Judge Hardcastle take it straight to the governor. We don’t believe that anybody will convict a man of God who was only ministering to one of His children. What do you think about that?”

“Fine move. What about Macky here?”

It was Mr. Cribbs who answered. “Kate—Macky,” he quickly amended, “will, of course, have to face the charges, but since your own prisoner knows that she was an innocent bystander, we think that an exception could be made. All we have to do is have the Bank of Promise drop the charges and”—he took a deep breath—“since there is some question about whether or not the banker in Promise was in cahoots with Marshal Larkin, we’ve decided to reopen the bank in Heaven. We’ll honor all the Promise depositors. If the money, less the value of Macky’s farm of course, is deposited in our bank, we think everyone will be happy. Macky could be released into the custody of—”