Whirlwind Wedding (27 page)

“S
o you saw Ian in town and bought some medicine for him?”

“Yes.” Andrew sat in a chair in the middle of Davis Lee's office, the sinking sun causing shadows to creep across the floor.

Jericho perched on the edge of his cousin's desk, while Davis Lee occupied the chair behind the desk. The boy was pale and watched Jericho warily.

“And when you followed him out of town, you met the others?”

“Yes.”

“Didn't it bother you to learn who they were?”

A flush stole up his neck. “I thought it was exciting.”

Andrew wouldn't be the first boy to glorify a dangerous outlaw. “What all did you do with them?”

“Played cards, cleaned their guns. One night they asked me to get them some food, so I did.”

Jericho rubbed a hand across the rigid muscles of his neck, alert to every time the kid's muscles twitched. “And you stole food for them more than once, didn't you?”

Andrew nodded.

“Did you steal anything else?”

“Rifle cartridges from Mr. Doyle,” he said in a small voice.

“What about horses? Blankets?”

“No.” The answer, as well as his gaze was direct, guileless. “Nothing else. Just food, some medicine from Haskell's and those cartridges.”

Jericho stood, limping over to him. Riding Cinco today had left an ache that went clear to the bone.

Andrew glanced up, crossing his ankles, then uncrossing them. Jericho moved behind the chair. He wanted to judge the kid's reactions up close.

He exchanged a look with Davis Lee, who nodded in understanding.

“Were you there when the McDougals butchered the Baldwins' steer?” Jericho asked.

“No.”

“Stole clothes from them?”

“No.”

“And you weren't keeping company with the gang last fall?”

“No.” Andrew tilted his head to meet Jericho's gaze. “Only since February.”

The kid was nervous but not lying. At least not about this. “Did you know Whirlwind's stagecoach driver, Ollie Wilkes?”

“Yes.”

“Were you present when he was killed?”

“No.”

“But you knew they killed him?” At the boy's nod, Jericho continued, “When you found out they were the ones who killed him, why didn't you say anything?”

Jericho fired the questions at him, not giving the kid time to think of any answer besides the truth.

“They weren't here anymore. I didn't think it would matter and…”

“What?”

Andrew mumbled, “I didn't want my ma to know I'd been with them.”

“So you wouldn't get a thrashin'?”

“Partly, but mostly because she would've been hurt real bad.”

Any twelve-year-old boy—any
kid
—was going to watch out for his skin, but the thickness in Andrew's voice told Jericho that he really had been concerned about hurting his ailing mother. Why didn't the lad realize his mother could've become a victim of the McDougals the same way Catherine had? Hell, the kid could've met a fate worse than that.

“Have you ever been with the gang when anyone was killed?”

Andrew's gaze dropped to the floor. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.

So they had come to it. Swept with a sudden fatigue, Jericho shared a grim look with Davis Lee. They both remained quiet, letting the silence stretch out. It didn't take long for the boy to open up.

He squirmed in his chair, mumbling, “I was there.”

“Where?”

“At…where you were.”

Jericho waited.

Andrew gulped, looking ashamed. “The ambush. Where you were shot and your friend was killed.”

At least the kid admitted it. Jericho wondered if Catherine's hearing these words from her brother might enable her to accept that Jericho had brought him in. “Why, Andrew?”

“I didn't know what they were going to do. They told me we were just riding, and then there you were.” His voice rose. “And they started shooting. You started shooting.”

“And
you
started shooting,” he said sharply.

“No!”

“I was there, boy.”

“I know, but I swear I didn't shoot. I was right up front with Angus. Can you remember seeing me in that spot?”

“You had a gun,” Jericho said softly. “Aimed at me, at Hays.”

“Yes, but I didn't shoot. I swear I didn't!” The kid's gaze sought his earnestly. “You have to recall that. Please. Can't you remember? I know you could see me.”

Jericho didn't think the kid was lying. Davis Lee darted him a look that said the same thing.

“If you didn't mean to pull the trigger, you can tell me. You were nervous. Your hands were probably sweating. Your finger just slipped. It was an accident.”

“I swear I didn't shoot.”

Jericho narrowed his gaze and mentally replayed the ambush. Andrew at Angus's right elbow, the other three McDougals behind. Guns blazing, including Jericho's, as he'd gone to the ground after the shot to his thigh.

Hays had stepped up, partially obscuring his vision for a half second. Jericho had been dizzy, one hand pressing the wound in his thigh as he tried to stem the blood pouring out of his leg like water. His friend had fallen, and Jericho had squeezed off several rapid shots before dragging himself over to the other man.

Andrew's story could be true. The boy might never have fired a shot. Plenty of bullets had been flying. And Jericho's light-headedness combined with his angle from the ground could've easily played tricks with his eyes.

It was more than possible Angus had killed Hays. McDougal had certainly wanted to murder both Rangers. Whatever lack of judgment Andrew had shown, the kid was no murderer. Jericho knew that in his gut.

The boy stared at him, his face sheened with sweat. His explanation was plausible. He didn't try to avoid Jericho's gaze or questions. Didn't hesitate over his answers.

Jericho believed him. But was it because he wanted things to work out with Catherine? Because he didn't want to be responsible for taking away the last of her family?

“Sit tight while Sheriff Holt and I talk outside for a minute,” he said.

“Okay.” Worry pinched Andrew's features.

As soon as they stepped onto the porch and closed the door, Davis Lee said quietly, “I think he's telling the truth.”

Jericho nodded, turning things over in his mind.

“Do you? What's wrong?”

“I just want to be sure,” Jericho answered slowly. “I don't want to make this decision based on the fact that I love his sister and don't want to take away her only family.”

His cousin studied him for a minute. “For what it's worth, I don't think you are. I think you listened to the kid and weighed what he had to say. He doesn't act like someone who's lying.”

“I agree.”

“Well, then?”

“Well, then…” Jericho listened hard to his instincts again, and they still told him Andrew was in the clear. “I think I have some good news for Catherine.”

Davis Lee clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “And here she comes right now.”

Jericho turned to see her hurrying toward them. A soft blue dress molded her slender curves, making her eyes a startling hue. Her hair hung down her back in a gleaming curtain. She had scrubbed the dirt from her face, drawing attention to the beginnings of a bruise where Angus had hit her.

His heart turned over. He was relieved to tell her about Andrew, but there was a part of him that wondered if she would have ever accepted him if her brother had been arrested.

“Oh, I'm glad you're out here.” She hurried up the steps
to join them on the landing, her gaze searching his. “I need to talk to you.”

Davis Lee opened the door. “I'll be inside with Andrew. See you in a minute.”

Jericho's gaze traced her delicate features. She was so beautiful. He wanted to hold her, kiss every inch of her. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. “Catherine, if you're here to ask me not to—”

“Please let me say this.”

“I just thought you might want to know—”

“Please, Jericho.” She laid a hand on his chest and looked up at him with earnest, sober eyes.

He nodded, his entire body tightening as he battled the urge to blurt out his decision regarding Andrew. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to make the choice she dreaded, but it might not matter. She may have already decided she couldn't be with him.

Her hand smoothed the place over his heart. “I know you don't take this situation lightly. I know you care about my brother and you don't want to hurt me.”

“I don't,” he rasped, one hand settling at her waist.

She raised a hand to his face and caressed his jaw, giving a little laugh. “When the two of you left a while ago, I was almost more worried about you than I was about Andrew.”

“What?”

Her eyes blazed into his, catching his gaze and holding it. “When I was with Angus, I thought I might never have the chance to tell you that I understand you're doing what you have to. I've witnessed your sense of justice and fairness. Those are two of the things I love most about you.” She took a deep breath, her voice dropping. “I don't know how I'll feel about your decision regarding Andrew, but I do know how I feel about you. I thought I might never have the chance to tell you I love you, too. Because I do.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes, and Jericho stood speechless. The more she had said, the more still and hushed his body had grown. She had come to him before knowing his decision. She loved him. She wasn't turning him away.

She swallowed hard, her eyes uncertain and tortured. “Please say I haven't hurt you so badly that—oh!”

He covered her mouth with his, his hands coming up to gently frame her face. She responded immediately, her arms sliding around his waist to clutch him to her almost frantically. After a long while, they pulled apart.

His thumb floated over the bruise forming on her cheekbone. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No.” She turned her head to press a kiss against his palm. “Can you forgive me?”

“There's nothing to forgive, Catherine. You love your brother.”

She brushed a kiss across his lips. “I know you have to question him and I know he has to own up to what he's done. But I also know you'll be fair. Before you decide anything, I want you to know
that.
”

“Even if I have to arrest him?”

Regret flared in her eyes, deep and sharp, but her gaze never wavered. “Even then.”

His arms tightened around her and he said gruffly, “Do you know that my guts have been tied in knots ever since I left you at the house?”

“Mine, too.”

After another soft kiss, he said, “I've finished questioning Andrew.”

“You have?”

He caught the note of hope in her voice and grinned, amazed at how much he was going to enjoy telling her. “I was wrong. He wasn't the one who killed Hays.”

“Did he shoot you?” she asked breathlessly.

“He didn't shoot anyone that day. Only the McDougals did.”

“You're sure?” Tears quivered beneath her words.

“Yes.” He knew how much it meant to her that her brother hadn't crossed the line.

“So you're not taking him in?”

“No. Let's go tell him together.”

Her eyes glowed as she grasped his face between her hands. “I love you, Jericho. I guess if you hadn't come looking for my brother, I never would've found you.”

“I would've found you somehow,” he said with quiet confidence.

“And how do you know that?” she asked playfully.

“Because you're the rest of my life,” he murmured against her lips. “How could I not?”