Wild Texas Rose (10 page)

Chapter 13

Tuesday morning

Dallas

D
uncan McMurray stood with his back to the
courtroom wall and watched the Tanner brothers’ lawyer shouting and pounding as if he thought the two worthless outlaws were innocent. The first lawyer brought up the fact that the brothers had both been in the war and fought for the South.

No one in the room seemed impressed. Most of the men present over thirty had done the same thing. A dozen years ago they’d come home broken and penniless, but they hadn’t turned to a life of crime.

The other lawyer shouted that the men could not be convicted because not one dollar of the stolen money had been found. The jury had listened to a dozen witnesses swear that the Tanners had robbed trains they were traveling on. One was a U.S. marshal and another two were respected doctors.

Duncan stretched his long frame, wishing the trial was over. He wanted to be back in Fort Worth . . . back with Rose.

When she’d first tried to convince him that something was wrong about the Chamberlain wedding, he’d thought she was overreacting. Who could possibly care about a yellow dress? Only after the major stormed into the sitting room last night did Duncan decide that maybe more was going on than he’d thought. Maybe no great mystery, but the beautiful Victoria did seem to be testing out at least one other man before she settled down with the groom.

Duncan allowed his gaze to locate August Myers in the fourth row with the rest of the reporters. For a man determined to report the news, he didn’t look all that interested in the trial. Every few minutes he glanced back at a man standing near the door as if he were a second grader waiting for the bell. Duncan wished he’d told Rose more about the man. Maybe she would have tried to talk some sense into Victoria. Myers was tall and had been well built at one time, but his late nights and heavy drinking were taking a toll.

He couldn’t blame Victoria for hoping for someone else.

Grinning, he thought of the couple on the balcony last night and hoped Judge O’Toole had been the lover trying to change her course. The young judge was a good man who kept mostly to himself. He hadn’t seemed the type who would maintain a friendship with a man like Myers, but maybe he did so because of Victoria.

Duncan forced his mind back to the trial. It couldn’t last much longer. The Tanners’ lawyers had to run out of steam at some point. They reminded Duncan of trains huffing and puffing as they stormed from one side of the room to the other. Occasionally, the judge pounded with his gavel to hurry along one of the lawyers so he could find the brothers guilty and order the hanging, but words, like smoke and ashes, kept flying.

The Tanner brothers had given up even pretending to listen. Jeb was looking out the window the judge had ordered open because of the smell of too many unwashed bodies crowded in the room. Owen had fallen asleep a half hour ago for his usual morning nap. Even from across the room Duncan swore he could still smell the pair. The Tanner gang must have no sense of smell, he decided. He’d heard rumors about half the gang being in Dallas, hanging around the back streets. They’d have to be dumber than cow chips if they followed these two outlaws. The idea that someone else might be in charge of the gang tickled at the corners of Duncan’s mind, but not one person had shown up to even visit with the Tanners.

One more day of guard duty,
Duncan thought,
and I can take a few days off.
He was daydreaming about catching the train home with Rose and spending a week sleeping when a shot rang out across the courtroom.

People darted in every direction as they took cover.

Duncan headed straight for the Tanner brothers, pushing people out of the way. He’d return fire if he got the chance, but first he planned to make sure the criminals didn’t try to leave the courtroom.

Owen was no trouble to find. He sat under the table, screaming between hiccups of swear words. He cradled his arms as he rocked back and forth. The second he saw Duncan heading toward him, Owen began to yell, “How’d you let someone shoot me? You’re supposed to be here to protect me. I think I’m dying.”

“Shut up,” Duncan said as he knelt to look at the wound. “I’m here to protect the innocent, not the guilty.” Pulling off his bandanna, Duncan wrapped the arm wound. “The bullet only grazed you. Have any idea where the shot came from?”

“How should I know?” Owen yelled. “I was asleep.”

Duncan thought of asking again, but he could think of at least a dozen victims of robberies in the courtroom who wanted the brothers dead. Any one of them could have fired off a shot and disappeared in the chaos.

“You got to get me to the doc, Ranger!” Owen screamed. “I could die of poison blood.”

“Oh, you will die, Owen, but not from a flesh wound on your arm. I’m surprised the bullet made it through the armor of dirt you’ve got protecting you.” Suddenly Duncan looked up. “Where’s your brother?”

Owen’s face was blank. Duncan pulled his gun and pointed it at him. “Stay under that table or I’ll shoot you myself. Understand?”

Owen managed a nod. He might be one bad outlaw, but he’d never been brave. He looked like he fully believed the ranger would shoot him if he moved and he was right.

Duncan turned his full attention to finding the other Tanner. By now people had either crawled into hiding places or run. Two other rangers were covering the door, so Jeb Tanner couldn’t have gotten out.

The rangers, Slim Bates, and a new guy who called himself Waco Jones, began to move in, checking under every table and chair.

When they reached the middle of the room, Slim looked at Duncan and shook his head. Jeb Tanner had disappeared.

Duncan scanned the walls, but there was no corner deep enough to hold an outlaw. On his second scan, he saw the window Jeb had been staring at. A window from which someone could take a direct line of fire at Owen Tanner and an opening big enough for a six-foot man to jump through. Only Jeb would have had to do so a second after the shot blasted in while everyone was ducking for cover.

Two facts exploded through Duncan’s mind. One, Jeb had escaped in the confusion, and two, his brother had been used as a distraction.

Waco moved closer and pulled Owen out from under the table. “I’ll take care of this one,” he said. “You two find Jeb.”

Duncan ran for the window while Slim bolted for the door. The drop to the ground below was more than six feet but nothing Duncan hadn’t done a hundred times, and, he figured, it probably wouldn’t have been a challenge for an outlaw like Jeb either.

An overturned box rested against the brick, a convenient prop for the shooter. The window opened onto a side street, but the shooter would have had to be fast to climb on the box, fire, and disappear before someone passing by saw him.

Fast and accurate
didn’t fit any of the Tanner gang.

Slim rode around from the front of the courthouse, leading Duncan’s horse. “They wouldn’t have come that way,” he yelled, and pointed back with his head. “Street is too busy. Someone would spot Jeb.”

Duncan climbed on his horse and both men rode farther into the alley. If Jeb was on foot, they’d catch him.

An hour later they’d lost any hint of a trail. The shooter must have disappeared down one of the alleyways and tracking on busy, muddy roads was impossible.

Slim swore. “I can’t believe it. After watching him like a hawk he seems to have just jumped out the window and flown away.”

“Jeb’s not smart enough to have planned this on his own. He had help. Between the brothers, they don’t have enough brains to fill one skull.”

“But who? While they were in jail not a single person visited them except a few reporters wanting a quote. Even their lawyers wouldn’t talk to the pair, and neither of the Tanners can read, so it wouldn’t do any good for someone to slip them a note.”

They turned back toward the sheriff’s office as Slim added, “Let’s go back and see if we can beat something out of Owen.”

“He doesn’t know anything.” Duncan would bet on it. “Whoever did this just needed one Tanner, but why?”

Slim shrugged, then suggested, “It would only take one to lead him to the money. I heard they got a hundred thousand in gold at the last robbery, but we’ve been through every place they’ve held up this past year and haven’t found a halfpenny, much less gold.”

“The gang’s probably already split that up.” Duncan had shot two of them the night he captured the brothers. The others seemed to have vanished into the cracks like roaches.

“Nope,” Slim said. “Way I heard it, the gang had to stay with them for a year to get a dime of the loot. The brothers were squirreling it away, wouldn’t even use it for fresh horses.”

Duncan had heard the same thing, but he had a hard time believing it. Easy money usually dribbled through robbers’ hands like water.

Slim shook his head. “It don’t make no sense. What would they be saving money like that for? But I’ll tell you one thing, whoever planned this must have had Jeb on his side. Otherwise, why would he run toward the shooter and jump out the window?”

Duncan didn’t have the answers. All he knew for sure was that he wouldn’t be riding back to Fort Worth and Rose anytime soon. His plan to kiss her again just to see if she tasted as good as he remembered would have to wait.

When they made it back to the jail cell, Owen was hollering that he was going to die, and half the lawmen in the state were surrounding the building. The trial had gone from a daily article to front-page news.

Duncan stood in the back of the room, watching the outlaw being questioned. Owen spotted him as if he’d been waiting. “McMurray!” he yelled, ignoring the men asking for answers. “Jeb’s going after you.” He laughed. “You’ll be one dead ranger come morning. He told me last night he didn’t care so much about hanging, but he planned to take you into hell with us.”

Duncan stepped out of the room. He’d heard it all before.

Chapter 14

Tuesday

Second Avenue

A
be Henderson forced the cobwebs from his
brain and tried to focus on opening his store after a night of no sleep. Sara filled his mind to overflowing. The plain little schoolteacher had been beautiful last night, washing over him like a warm rain. The possibility of what might happen next between them blocked all other thoughts. He went through his usual routine with his mind still floating in the pleasure of last night. When he pulled up the shade over the door and turned the sign to O
PEN,
Abe wasn’t surprised to see Killian O’Toole sitting out in front of his store.

After pouring two cups of coffee, he went to meet his friend, wondering if Killian would be able to tell how much his world had changed in the few days since they’d talked. Miss Norman had gone from being just a woman he watched to almost a lover . . . almost
his
lover.

“Morning, Killian,” Abe said as he passed off one of the cups to the thin man in black. “You’re early.”

O’Toole didn’t say a word. In fact he looked exhausted, as though he’d had even less sleep than Abe.

“What’s wrong?” Abe lowered slowly to the bench.

Killian gripped his cup so tightly Abe wouldn’t have been surprised to see the mug shatter in his hands. Abe knew without Killian saying a word that it was time to be a friend. A true friend.

He didn’t hesitate. “Whatever you need, Killian, I’m here. Just name it and it’s yours.” He hadn’t been friends with the man for this long to put limits on a favor.

Killian looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Thanks,” he said. “Is there still an apartment above that bakery you bought?” He pointed with his head to the next business down the walkway.

“There is. There has been since we were kids.” An older couple from Chicago had lived there before the war. When the war broke out, they moved back up north, telling Abe they’d return when all the fighting was over. They never came back.

“Would you mind if I borrowed the space, Abe? I’d be happy to pay rent.”

Abe frowned. “I don’t mind. You can stay in the place as long as you need it. I’m guessing you know your way around in there—you played in that kitchen when your mother used to work at the bakery part-time.”

Killian shook his head. “I’m not the one moving in. I just want to leave something there that is very dear to me. It’s the only place that I think might be safe.”

“Something?” Abe asked, thinking that he’d never seen Killian own anything besides a saddlebag in years.

“Someone,” the judge corrected.

“I’ll have Henry sweep it out as soon as he comes in.”

“No. I’ll do that. She’ll be moving on as soon as it’s safe for her to travel.”

“She?” Abe had to ask.

“I can’t say more.” Killian looked exhausted. “If trouble comes, the less you know the better, but no matter what you hear, she’ll be there of her own free will.”

Abe smiled. “Then I’ll ask no more. I’ll get the key to the apartment and one to the back door of the bakery. Consider it yours for as long as she needs it. The only person who goes in there now and then is the schoolteacher. She stores extra desks in the front and she’d have no reason to climb the stairs.”

Killian nodded and his long body seemed to relax a bit.

When Abe made it back with the keys, his friend gratefully took them. “You’ll be needing supplies, bedding, food, a bucket of coal for the stove. Just leave a note and I’ll deliver it to the bottom of the stairs.”

Killian nodded as he stood. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The judge put on his hat and held out his hand. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. It could be a matter of life or death.”

Abe took his hand. “Done.”

Chapter 15

Tuesday

Dallas

E
very ranger within fifty miles stormed into
Dallas. Most of the older rangers had known the town before the war when the population had been under seven hundred. Now with the railroad bringing industry and commerce from every direction, a hundred rangers couldn’t check every corner looking for Jeb Tanner.

Duncan McMurray knew he was just one of a few dozen men determined to find Jeb among the townspeople descended from artists and farmers. In Fort Worth they might have started by combing the saloons and gaming houses, but here Duncan wasn’t sure where to begin. Jeb might have had friends willing to hide him for a price, or more likely, he could have broken into a place and made himself at home. They’d found one witness on the street next to the courthouse who said he saw a man fitting Jeb’s description limping down the alley.

If that were true, Jeb must be hiding somewhere near the courthouse.

When Duncan left the sheriff’s office, he had two missions. His first was to talk to August Myers to see if the man had anything to do with the escape, and the second was to begin searching from the window where Jeb had jumped and continue on to every building in the vicinity.

Talking to August Myers proved impossible. Apparently the reporter had run from the courtroom straight to the train station. The man in the ticket cage remembered August yelling for them to hurry because he had to be on the next train. For a man who claimed to be a war hero, he could sure run like a rabbit.

Duncan wasn’t surprised to learn August had bought one ticket to Fort Worth. Either he was suddenly in a hurry to see his bride-to-be, or his mission in Dallas was finished. Logic told Duncan that August probably wasn’t the brain behind the escape, but he might have been the messenger. Also, as a reporter, he traveled between the big towns and was probably more aware of the train schedules and maybe even shipments than most people.

Slim Bates went along with Duncan to search the alley. Other rangers were covering roads out of town and interviewing the hundred or so citizens who felt the need to come forward and report they’d seen what might have been the outlaw or heard strange noises that could have come from him.

“I’ll take the left side,” Slim said as they stepped away from the window, their eyes on the ground for any clue.

Duncan didn’t have to tell the other ranger what to look for. He knew. A half hour later they’d found nothing. Most of the doors of the alley were securely locked, none had been broken into. The only clue they’d found were several drops of blood that probably belonged to a pack of meat being delivered and not Jeb Tanner.

When they stopped for a minute to plan, Slim rolled a cigarette and said, “We’re in the old part of downtown now.”

Duncan looked at the wood on the side of the building he was leaning against. “Looks pretty new to me.”

“Oh, it is. The original buildings burned back in 1860. Some said the slaves, stirred up by the abolitionists, burned it down. The abolitionists were run out of town and the orders went out claiming every slave in the county had to be whipped.”

“Folks did that?”

Slim shook his head. “I’m sure a few did, but I doubt many would.”

Duncan frowned. He’d been too young to know of slavery before the war. The McMurrays had never had slaves. Any black man who came on the ranch worked for wages just like anyone else. After the war he’d seen freed slaves moving from town to town looking for work. He remembered helping his uncle plow up rows to plant extra food during the war and for a few years after, when it seemed most people didn’t have enough to feed their own family much less the drifters.

“Did you ever own slaves, Slim?” Duncan asked just to give the older man a minute more to rest before they pushed on.

“No.” Slim smiled. “I was too poor.”

“But you fought for the South.”

Slim shrugged. “I guess I thought since Texas joined the Union in ’45, we had a right to leave in ’60 if we wanted to.”

“Still feel that way?”

Slim shook his head. “I gave up feeling years ago. Once in a while I see men still eaten up with the war and I don’t want to be one of them. One night that reporter you talked to was mouthing off in the saloon that the Confederacy will never die like we are going to wake up one morning and everything will be back like it was years go.”

“Would you like that, Slim?”

The older ranger shook his head. “You know what they say about the good old days, kid.”

“What?”

“They weren’t.” He dropped his cigarette and crushed it out. “We’d better get moving.”

Three doors later they found one unlocked, leading into a small saddle shop. If Jeb made it to this door before they overtook him, he might have found his way out, or his way into hiding.

Slim pushed the door open slowly as Duncan stood ready. The back room was lit by one lamp over a worktable. The place was as silent as a tomb. One step inside the room and they saw a little man in a leather apron leaned over his work station. Blood spotted his white hair.

Slim moved closer and touched the old man’s shoulder. “He’s still alive.”

Duncan fanned the shop making sure no one was hiding in the corners, then helped Slim place the old man on a cot near the back. The whole place smelled of leather and pipe smoke and blood.

While Slim ran for a doctor, Duncan knelt beside the injured man. “Can you talk?” he asked, hoping to keep him awake until Slim got back.

The man jerked, then settled when he saw the circle star on Duncan’s chest. “Thank the Lord you’re here. I’ve been attacked.”

Duncan stood and collected towels from a washstand along with a glass of water. The man drank deeply.

It was clear to Duncan that a robber would have little to steal in such a place. When he knelt back beside the man, he asked, “You able to talk now, old fellow?”

“Ja.”
The man’s German accent lingered at the corner of his words. “A fella came blowing through the back door like all hell was after him. He grabbed my old flint lock and started hitting me again and again with the butt of the rifle.” The old man let out a cry of pain as Duncan turned his head to see gashes cut to bone on the back of his head.

“Did he rob you?”

“Not that I know of. I passed out after several hits. I do remember hearing him complain about the gun not being loaded.” The old man closed his eyes. “If it had been loaded, he would have shot me. I only keep it by the door to scare off kids thinking of starting a life of crime.”

Duncan wrapped a strip of cloth around his head. “What do you remember about the man?”

The little saddle maker thought for a few minutes and finally said, “Thin. Dirty. When I was passing out, I remember him leaning over me. He smelled bad.”

Duncan knew he’d found Jeb. “Did you see which way he went?”

“No.” He patted Duncan’s hand and closed his eyes. “I think I’ll rest till the doc gets here.”

Duncan went to the front door and waited. There was nothing more he could do for the old man and he couldn’t leave until Slim returned. Jeb Tanner was out there somewhere on the streets, maybe wounded and armed with an unloaded rifle. Someone had helped him make his escape by shooting his brother. Why weren’t they helping him now?