Compromised Cowgirl (34 page)

“Get out of my way or I’ll make a hole in your gizzard!”

* * * *

Hearing a ruckus, Judge Ambrose Thatcher tucked his long, black coat behind the pearl-handled pistol that rested, butt forward, on his left hip. He watched the crowd swirl as someone pushed their way through.

Silence fell as three well-dressed women appeared in the open space before him. Two were short with dark hair. One carried a baby whose fiery hair matched that of the MacDougals. The other held a steady pistol pointed right at him. The third woman was tall and blonde. She carried something flat and square in a white pillowcase. The two without a gun had rounded bellies.

The one holding the gun on him as if she meant business stared defiantly at someone to his left. From her expression, he doubted she remembered what she held in her hand.

“Madam, set that gun on the floor and put your hands up,” he ordered. The woman’s face flamed, but neither her hand nor her gaze moved.

“That bloody woman will
not
follow my orders!” The clipped English voice came from the direction of the woman’s gaze. “Jessie, I told you to stay home. I even took the buggy reins to keep you there. What are you doing here?”

Ambrose turned to the well-dressed man. By the way he glared at the tiny gunslinger, he must be Kenrick Langford. The man narrowed his eyes at his wife, held his left palm out, and slapped it with his right. She gulped at the obvious warning, bent over, innocently flashing what lay behind her cleavage, and placed the gun carefully on the floor. She stood up and raised her hands, still looking at her husband. She did not look cowed in any way.

“I promised Molly I’d bring the kittens today,” she said. Her voice rose over the crowd. “Even though I married you, I’m still an Elliott, and Elliotts always keep their promises.”

Ambrose broke into the glaring contest. “I presume you are Ace Langford, and this is your wife?”

He nodded, sighing deeply. “We married a few days ago. My lady doesn’t believe the word ‘obey’ applies to her. I’ll be reminding her of that as soon as we are home.” He raised his voice, adding an edge. “Jessamine Bonham Elliott Langford, curtsey to the nice judge and thank him for not shooting you.”

“I apologize, your honor.”

She sank into a deep curtsey that would be expected in the finest drawing rooms in the East. He looked at the woman beside her.

“Gillis MacDougal, is that your child?”

Gillis, who hadn’t moved his glare from his older brother, Finan, since they arrived, turned to face the door.

“Amelia? What are ye doin’ here, lovie? And ye brought the wee lassie as weel?”

He stomped forward, kilt swinging. The scowl he’d worn since arriving faded when the baby crowed, “Da!” and held out her arms, kicking in excitement. He held her easily in one arm and tickled her. They both laughed. She was obviously well loved but, being female, would not affect Finan’s claim.

“And is that your wife beside you?” Though Ambrose knew the answer, he preferred to keep those in his courtroom unaware of his breadth of understanding. He learned long ago that a good lawyer never asks a question for which he does not already have an answer.

“Amelia’s my wife, Mrs. Ross MacDougal.”

One of the dark-skinned men stepped away from his brother. The two were almost identical, and Ambrose had not yet set in his mind which was which. Ross escorted the small, pregnant woman to a chair. She sank into it with a sigh. He kissed her cheek and crouched beside her. After making sure she was comfortable he scanned the room, making it obvious he wouldn’t tolerate anyone harming his woman. Ross was the one known as the MacDougal Devil. It suited him.

The tall blonde lifted the gun from the floor, holding it, barrel down, as if she knew how to use it. She strolled past him and set it on the table in front of his scribe, Jeffries. She kept the package in the pillowcase tight under her arm. She turned her back to Jeffries to face him.

“My name is Elizabeth Elliott, your Honor. My husband is Trace.”

She was so tall she could almost look him in the eye. He’d heard the valley women lived openly with three husbands. After seeing these women, he could see why the men didn’t object. The men had their own bonds, and the opportunity to share a magnificent wife was far better than being alone.

“I told you not to take the buggy without permission, wife.”

The commanding croak belonged to her husband, the one who seemed to be the leader of the group fighting Finan MacDougal’s claim. A flush ran up the blonde’s face, but she jutted out her jaw.

“After you left me behind I was so angry that I threw something.” A few chuckles went around the room. “I hit one of your mother’s photographs, breaking the glass. When I went to clean it up, I discovered Sunbird’s marriage certificate behind the picture. I had to bring it, for Amelia’s sake.”

Finan MacDougal, the man who had dragged him from
Helena
to investigate his ownership claim, jumped to his feet.

“You said not to travel alone,” continued Beth, ignoring Finan’s sputters, “so I brought Amelia and Hope. We found Jessie walking on the road with her basket of kittens.” She lifted her pillowcase, smiling brilliantly. “This proves—”

“It proves nothing,” growled Finan. He stared around the room. The closed faces made him erupt. “’Tis false! Father nae married Sunbird. He’d nae disgrace Mother!”

The room erupted in yells, mostly against Finan.

Ambrose rested his thumbs on his belt, careful not to touch his pistol in challenge. He looked around the room, memorizing each face. Jeffries, a lawyer learning the business, stood up as well. The smarter ones in the group soon hushed the others until only a few rumbles continued in the back corners.

“If you cannot be quiet, I will clear this court.” He scanned the group. “I am Judge Ambrose Thatcher. I have come to this town at great discomfort to hear evidence for and against the future ownership of the MD Connected Ranch. Finan MacDougal, you will sit to the right of the table. Those in disagreement, sit to the left.”

He watched as they settled and then nodded cordially. He turned his back to the crowd and faced the witnesses.

“One by one, stand and state your full name and where you reside,” he said. He confirmed names and faces as they spoke. Trace, Beth, Ranger, and Patrick Elliott of the Rocking E and Bitterroot ranches. Gillis, Ross, Amelia, and Nevin MacDougal of the MD Connected. Kenrick and Jessamine Langford, Charles Statham, and Henry Bennett of the Double Diamond.

“Thank you. However, unless you are directly involved, as in have MacDougal as a surname or evidence to present, take a seat with the general public. And take that baby with you!”

Trace tickled the baby and carried her to the side with the others. That left five of them on the left and Finan MacDougal to the right. The man had recently married, but said his wife was upstairs resting. Ambrose had seen, and heard, the imposing woman during dinner. She’d made it clear she was not pleased with her new husband’s drinking, and that it would stop. It was just as well she wasn’t in the room as he doubted anyone could keep her quiet. He waited until Jeffries finished his notes and bobbed his head to say he was ready.

“Do you agree, gentlemen, that the last will and testament of Finan MacDougal, Senior, dated 1870, states that, upon his death, unless a legitimate male grandchild is alive on the MD Connected Ranch, all MacDougal property passes to his eldest son, Finan Junior.”

“Aye,” said Gillis, though he gritted his teeth while doing so.

“Aye,” replied Finan smugly.

From the crowd’s rumbles, it seemed that information was not common knowledge.

“Mr. Finan MacDougal states that, as his father never legally married his second wife, the Indian woman known as “Sunbird”, Ross and Nevin MacDougal are illegitimate and, therefore, cannot inherit. As such, any issue from their unions would not be counted as heirs. Unless Gillis remarries and has a son, all property, including the disputed ranch, will therefore pass to Finan MacDougal, Junior, upon their father’s death.”

Though Gillis growled, he didn’t jump up and bellow, as Sheriff Chambers had warned him was likely. Perhaps it was Amelia’s hand resting on his arm which held him back. Thatcher understood the power a well-loved wife could have over a man, as well as the vindictiveness of one scorned.

“Gillis, Ross, and Nevin MacDougal state that Finan Senior did marry Sunbird in a legal ceremony. Is there evidence to prove this fact?”

“Yes, sir. I have the marriage certificate in here,” said Beth Elliott.

She fumbled in the pillowcase and brought out a large, thin, book. He saw “Sinful Pleasures” stamped on the dark cover in gold before she flipped it over. Her face turned a shade of deep pink.

He pulled his coat around him like a formal robe to hide his swelling member. There was a time he and his lady spent many an hour reading, and practicing, such poses.

Trace Elliott’s unmistakable grumbles were hushed by someone. The man’s wife brought a pillow book, in a pillowcase, to his court? Ambrose was beginning to understand why these women needed three men to keep them in line.

“You had to choose
that
book to carry it in?” whispered Ross MacDougal loudly to Beth. His wife smacked him on the belly with the back of her hand and told him to hush. He laughed quietly, picked up Amelia’s hand, and gently kissed it. He relaxed in the chair, keeping her small hand in both of his dark ones. Nevin also loosened up. Obviously, they also knew what was in the book. He strolled closer, curious.

“I had it ready to lend to Jessie,” muttered Beth as she opened the book. “I didn’t want to take a chance of crushing the certificate, so I brought it along.”

Ambrose caught flashes of explicit drawings as she flipped through the pages until she found the one she wanted. He made sure his coat was still closed. He had half a mind to hold the book as evidence for a few days.

Beth carefully removed a sheet of thick paper. Nevin grabbed the book from her and stuffed it back in the pillowcase, chuckling. She elbowed him, causing him to grunt, and held out her evidence.

He nodded his thanks and took it from her. Someone very proud of their penmanship had used the opportunity to create something special. There was an ornate gold seal on the bottom right, complete with red wax and ribbons. It was marked with an imprint. He looked closer, tilting the paper into the light.

“The stamp on this certificate came from
Fort
Laramie
,” he said. “The date is 1846. The husband’s signature looks like Finan MacDougal. Beside it is an X and a drawing of a sun with a bird in it.” He looked at Ross. “Were you born after 1847?” Ross nodded. Ambrose looked at the bottom of the page. “I recognize the names of the army officers who stood as witness.”

He walked over to the table and picked up his gavel.

“This wedding certificate proves Ross and Nevin MacDougal are legitimate. They and their legal heirs may inherit property from Finan MacDougal, Senior.”

He banged the wooden hammer hard against the table. The group jumped to their feet, all hugging the tiny woman between them. Now that he looked closely, he saw the resemblance between Gillis and his dark half brothers.

“It’s a forgery!” shouted Finan. He shoved his chair back so fast it crashed behind him.

Sheriff Chambers moved to his side, though Ambrose didn’t expect the older man could hold the furious Scotsman. The judge waited until the room was quiet.

“Be quiet, Mr. MacDougal, or I’ll be forced to find you in contempt.” He spoke mildly, knowing he had the law behind him.

Finan glared around the room. “This doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.” He pointed at Amelia. “Unless she births a living son before Father dies, ’tis all mine!” He stormed from the room, cursing in what must be Gaelic.

Ambrose hit the gavel on the table again. “Court’s over, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced.

Trace immediately went to his wife. He tried to take the pillowcase from Nevin, but the younger man shook his head, smirking, and handed it to Jessie. Trace kissed Beth on the forehead and guided her to Ambrose.

“Would it be disrespectful to buy the judge a welcome to Tanner’s Ford drink?”

“Is that book what I think it is?”

Beth looked at the pillowcase Jessie hugged to her chest and her color deepened.

“I believe that blush answers my question.” He held out his hand to Trace. “I have a few things to speak with you about, Mr. Elliott. In fact, I owe you a drink. Will you be escorting your lovely wife home, or will we have a few moments?”

Trace used his fingers to send out a shrill whistle that cut through the crowd. “There’s a keg of beer cooling at Baldy’s Saloon. Go help yourselves.”

It took less than three minutes to clear the room of the rabble rousers.

“You do realize Finan won’t let this stop here,” said Ambrose to the cheerful valley group. “He’s the type of man who needs a physical answer to a problem. A few words will not make him believe something he disagrees with.”

Trace, along with the eight other men, nodded.

“He can have all the physical he wants. We’ll take him in a fair fight, one on one until he gives up.”

“Unless he takes all of you down.”