A Heart Divided (3 page)

Cord took her silence as surrender. Deciding it was past time he turn Sarah Caldwell in to Gabe Cooper’s custody and some well-earned jail time, he tried to climb to his feet with her in his arms. Try, however, was as far as he got.

Encumbered with the petite form, Cord slipped and fell again. Dirty water splattered them as he once more tumbled down atop her. Beneath him Cord heard her grunt, the force of his body slamming onto hers apparently driving the air from her lungs.

He cursed and immediately rolled off. This time, dragging her up by the arm, Cord struggled to stand. Though a bit more sodden than before, Sarah looked no worse for the wear. He shot her a warning glare, tightened his hold on her arm, and with a precarious grip on his temper, turned and strode back down the alley.

From his spot on the boardwalk outside the sheriff’s office, Dougal’s eyes widened as soon as he caught sight of them. Mud-coated and dripping wet, not to mention he was dragging an equally grimy bundle of irate femininity along behind him, Cord could just imagine how ludicrous he must look. And his old friend’s strenuous attempts to keep from laughing only confirmed his suspicions.

“Will ye be needin’ some help, lad?” the old Scotsman inquired loudly when they finally came within earshot.

Cord glanced up from his struggles trying to contain his endlessly wiggling captive. “Yes. Get Gabe out here.”

Dougal grinned. “Now, sure and that’d be a mite hard, lad. The sheriff’s no’ here.”

“Then for pity’s sake, go and get him for me!”

“All the way from Denver?”

His rapidly fraying temper exploded. “Blast it all!”

Cord pulled the girl to him, his arm encircling her waist. “
Now
what am I supposed to do with her?”

Bright blue eyes leisurely scanned Sarah’s grimy form. “Well, myself, I’d be for givin’ the lassie a bath.”

As Sarah sputtered indignantly, Cord wearily shook his head. “As much as I usually appreciate your Scottish wit, this is neither the time nor place. I hurt. I’m soaking wet, and I need her locked up until Gabe gets back and he can question her.”

“Aye, that ye do, lad.” Dougal paused to scratch his chin. “Well, there’s always Gabe’s young deputy, Sam Hayden. He could keep an eye on her in jail. But he
is
still pretty wet behind the ears, and I fear Jacob Caldwell and his boys would have her out in no time.”

Cord turned to stare down at his prisoner. “So, she
is
Sarah Caldwell.”

“Of course I am, you big lummox!” she snapped. “And, with the sheriff gone, you’ve no right to continue to hold me, so I suggest you let me go before I press charges.”

He smirked. “Oh, really. And exactly what would those charges be, little miss know-it-all?”

Hesitation flickered in her eyes. “Well, for starters, assault and battery. And, for another,” she added, apparently gaining inspiration as she went, “kidnapping.”

“Nice try.” Cord smiled coldly. “However, in the absence of the sheriff or an experienced deputy, and with the need to detain you for probable cause that you committed a felony in helping your family rob our ranch, a citizen’s arrest is more what I had in mind.”

“A
what
?”

“A citizen’s arrest. In case your education’s a bit lacking, it’s a practice that can be traced all the way back to English common law during the Middle Ages. It grants a private citizen the right to detain suspected criminals until proper law enforcement personnel can assume custody.” Cord looked to the old Scotsman. “Isn’t that correct, McPherson?”

As Sarah turned her imploring gaze up to the man standing before them on the boardwalk, Dougal nodded. “Aye, I’m afraid that’s true, lass. And Cord, of all people, would know, him being a lawyer and all.” He paused, his thick white brows arching in query as he stepped down to join them. “So, citizen’s arrest and all, what have ye planned for the lassie?”

Cord sighed.
Why is everything getting so dad-blamed complicated?

“What choice do I have? I’ll have to take her home with me until Gabe gets back. I’m not going to let the only suspect we’ve caught so far get away.” He glanced over his shoulder at his buckskin tied across the street in front of Dougal’s store. “Bring over my horse, will you?”

The little Scotsman quickly complied. Once his mount was standing beside them, Cord gave Sarah to Dougal. Then he loosened one of the long rawhide thongs that usually secured his bedroll to the saddle and pulled it free. As the old man held her hands behind her back, Cord deftly tied them.

When the unpleasant task was finally completed, Dougal turned to Sarah. “I’m verra sorry, lassie,” he said. “It near to breaks my heart to see it come to this.”

Green eyes, bright with unshed tears, stared back at him. “I-I thought you were my friend,” she whispered. “How can you let him do this to me? You know Danny needs me. What will he do if you let this man take me away?”

“Then tell me where the money is!” Cord angrily interrupted before his friend could reply. “Tell me the names of the other thieves and where to find them. It’s not too much to ask, if you really care about this Danny like you say you do.”

She rounded on him, a defiant light in her eyes. “On the contrary. It
is
too much to ask. You Wainwrights deserve what you got!” Sarah gave a disparaging sniff. “Deserve that and more!”

For a fleeting moment, Cord studied her impassively, then expelled an exasperated breath.
I’m going to regret this. I just know it.

“Here, hold Miss Caldwell while I mount up,” he growled, turning back to Dougal. “Obviously, it’s going to take more than a reasonable request to get the information I need out of her. And I don’t intend to begin in the middle of Main Street.”

Taking care not to injure his side any further, Cord swung up onto his horse. “Hand her to me,” he then said, bending toward Sarah.

“No!” She turned beseeching eyes to Dougal. “If you’re really the friend you always said you were, don’t let him take me. Please, Mr. McPherson. Please!”

The old man hesitated, and Cord knew he was torn between Sarah’s evident fear and the loyalty he felt toward him. Finally, sadly, he shook his head.

“’Tis the best choice, lassie. But dinna fear. Ye’re in no danger from the lad. Besides,” he added, smiling lamely, “surely ’tis only for a week or so, until the sheriff returns.”

“A week?” The horror in her voice was unmistakable. “A lot can happen in a week. Why, I could be dead!”

“Yes, you could,” Cord interjected dryly. “At the rate things are going, though, my death seems a far greater probability than yours.” He motioned to his friend. “Hand me up the girl.”

She must have been too stunned to respond, because Dougal was able to lift her up to sit in front of Cord without any struggle. Then, catching her eye, the little Scotsman gave her a reassuring wink before turning and heading back to his store.

Sarah gazed forlornly after him until he disappeared inside, then glanced back to rivet her white-hot glare onto Cord. “You’ll regret this to your dying day, Cord Wainwright,” she cried. “Just you wait and see!”

He reined in his horse and nudged it in the direction that led out of town. “Believe me, I already do,” he said with a rueful sigh. “Just remember one thing, you little wildcat. Whatever path my suffering leads me down, I fully intend to take
you
along for the ride.”

“Mama! Emma!” Pedro shouted. “Come quick! Come quick!” The lanky Mexican boy dashed through the front door of the main house, nearly skidding into Emma as she hurried from the library, feather duster in hand.

“Sakes alive, young man,” the older woman exclaimed. “Whatever is the matter?”

“
Madre de Dios!
” Manuela, flour smeared on her face and hands, ran from the kitchen. “Is it Indians? Hurry, Pedro!
Las pistolas!
”

Her son ran over and engulfed her in a big hug. “Calm yourself, Mama. It is no Indians. It is Mister Cord. He is back, and he brings someone with him.” His youthful face broke into a wide grin. “And they are both
very
dirty.”

The two women exchanged a puzzled glance. Then, with a shrug, they hurriedly removed their work aprons and bustled out to the front porch. Even then, Cord was pulling up to the house.

“Let me go! You’ve got no right. No right at all!” his sodden, mud-covered passenger was saying, all the while squirming wildly before him.

With his free arm about her waist, Cord jerked her back. “And I said, sit still,” he growled, “before you end up in even worse trouble than you’re already in.”

The trio of servants stood there, momentarily stunned. Then lips began to twitch as they all fought to keep a straight face.

The barely suppressed amusement wasn’t lost on Cord. He glanced down at the girl he held before him. At the sight of her ramrod straight form and recalcitrant tilt of her mud-caked, blonde head now resolutely turned away, fresh irritation surged through him.

The little vixen. She has the most infuriating talent for making me appear the fool.

He looked up at the assemblage on the porch, visually challenging any to speak. The servants wisely withheld comment. He motioned to them.

“Manuela, come hold my horse. Pedro, get over here and help steady her when I lower her down.” His request was clipped and cold, brooking no discussion. The two hurried to do his bidding.

Though she was handed down and accepted with the greatest of care, Sarah’s legs crumpled beneath her when she touched ground. Luckily, the boy quickly grabbed her. She shot him a grateful smile.

“Thank you . . . Pedro, isn’t it?”

Atop his horse, Cord watched the boy flush, then nod in agreement.
Great. Just great
, he thought.
She hasn’t been here five minutes, and already she’s plying her feminine wiles on a hapless, twelve-year-old boy.

As his gaze roamed over her, amusement slowly replaced his irritation. In her bedraggled state, Sarah’s attempts at charming anyone were more comical than provoking. Indeed, it was all Cord could do not to laugh, noting her piquant, dirt-smudged face and mud-coated hanks of hair, not to mention how ludicrously dressed she was in clothes many sizes too large for the slender form he knew lay beneath them.

But then, I can hardly talk,
he reminded himself as he glanced down at his own clothing. A humorless smile touched his lips.
We’re both in dire need of a bath.
With a wince, Cord swung off his horse.

Taking Sarah from Pedro’s hands, he nodded his dismissal. “Put up Scout,” he said to the boy before turning to Manuela. “I’d like a bath. Could you get some water boiling for one?”

Manuela arched a dark eyebrow, her glance speculatively moving from Cord to Sarah, then back again to Cord. Then, drawing an inscrutable mask across her features, she nodded. “
Sí, Señor
Wainwright.”

He watched as the Mexican woman gathered her skirts and hurried off. Manuela wasn’t much on words, but sooner or later he knew he’d hear more than he might care to from her. Fortunately, it wouldn’t be in the next few minutes, which suited him just fine.

The housekeeper, however, was another matter. He turned to where she stood, hands resting on her matronly hips, upon the porch.

“Okay, Emma,” he said with a weary sigh. “Why don’t you just speak your mind and get it over with? Then I can get on with what I’m going to do anyway.”

Emma’s lips pursed, and she shook her gray-streaked auburn head in exasperation. “Land sakes, Cord Wainwright. Aren’t you suddenly an ill-tempered young bull? What am I supposed to think when you ride up covered in mud, with a young lady equally as muddy in tow? Did you expect me to hide in the house and peek through the curtains?”

Cord shifted uncomfortably.
Here it comes now.

“I’m not in the mood for long explanations,” he said, “but this is the girl involved in the robbery, Sarah Caldwell to be exact. And, thanks to her, I’ve been through an aggravating past few hours. So all I want is to deposit her in the cellar and get cleaned up. Which is, starting now, exactly what I plan to do.”

As he began to pull Sarah along with him toward the front door, Emma swiftly moved to bar his way. “You’re going to put that child in that cold, damp cellar? For shame, Cord Wainwright! That’s no way to treat—”