Rue Allyn (18 page)

As one, the jurors drew back in fright. A murmur of disquiet rumbled through the audience. The judge banged his gavel. “Order. Order in my courtroom.”

Kiera almost laughed. The lawyer painted her guilty of crimes that were only possibilities. He made certain that each juror believed he or she was destined to be Kiera’s next victim, if they were foolish enough to acquit her.

“Being as how the defendant has elected not to provide a defense, the prosecutor may present his evidence and call his first witness.”

Beside her Boyd nearly leapt to his feet at the blatant lie. She gripped his arm hard. He subsided and turned to look at her. “I need you here to help me get through this, not sitting in a jail cell serving a sentence for contempt of court,” she hissed.

He nodded and shifted his attention back to the courtroom.

“The prosecution calls Mr. Yancy Davis.”

At first Kiera didn’t recognize the man shuffling up the makeshift aisle between the sections of seated observers. His hair was hidden under a new hat. He wore an eye patch, and his clothes were stiff, as if they were new and store-bought. When he reached the space between the defense and prosecution tables, he turned and bent his stare on her. She looked up to see a sneering smile distorted by a face full of scars and one beady yellow eye. Cream!

He’d disappeared after attempting to kill Ev. They’d never known how he escaped the ropes she’d tied him with. She had been too busy trying to help Ev recover from his wounds to go chasing off after a walking dead man. That’s how she’d thought of Cream. He had no weapons, no food, and no horse. The chances that he would survive and make it all the way to Laramie had been astronomical. Perhaps even the stars were against her.

Cream moved on without a word to stand before the witness chair and be sworn in.

Once he was seated, the prosecutor approached. “Mr. Davis, please tell us in your own words when you met the Wyoming Wildcat, where you were, and what happened from that time until you arrived in Laramie.”

“Me and my partners got a claim up in the mountains beyond Wind River.”

“Your partners names, please,” interrupted the prosecutor. “For the record.”

“Reb Jones and Smitty Albright.”

“Thank you.”

“Like I was sayin’. We were panning for gold on our claim when this woman shows up.”

“Is the woman in the courtroom?”

Cream pointed toward Kiera. “That’s her.”

“You’re certain?”

“I won’t never forget the woman who killed my friends, ripped out my eye, and murdered a U.S. Marshal.”

Gasps flew round the courtroom.

“Order,” shouted the judge.

“Please describe how these events happened.”

“She was with the marshal, and she wasn’t handcuffed or nothin’, so when they asked for food and shelter, a course we gave it to ‘em.”

“Do you know why this criminal wasn’t manacled?”

“No sir. But she was crawlin’ all over the marshal, so I thought she was his woman. Didn’t imagine he’d go and lay with a murderin’ horse thief.”

“So you gave the marshal and the Wyoming Wildcat shelter and food.”

“Yessir. They was real tired like, so we let ‘em stay a couple days. Then, early one morning, I found that Wildcat woman stealing our stash. I got the jump on her, so she couldn’t shoot me. She fought hard and dirty, gouging my eye right outta my head. She ran off. Took the gold, and left me for dead. Next thing I know, I hear gunshots coming from our cabin. By the time I get there, I see her in the saddle stealing the horses from the corral. I tried to catch one back and follow her, but I was hurt too bad. I headed for the cabin. Found my friends and the marshal murdered and the building on fire. I figure she did that to hide the murder she done. That claim was dry as tinder, like most of Wyoming this year. Without horses, I nearly died. Would have, if I hadn’t managed to find a trickle of a stream that wasn’t dried up. Was sheer luck that I ran into Clem Salter and his men searching for the Wildcat. They brought me back to Laramie and got me fixed up, so’s I could have my say in court. I wanna make sure that woman don’t kill nobody else ever again.”

“Is that all?” asked the prosecutor.

“‘S everything that matters.”

The judge eyed Kiera thoughtfully then sighed as if he carried a heavy burden. “Why I imagine a horse thief would do anything but lie, I don’t know. However the law requires that I ask if you got anything you want to say to this man or about his testimony?”

Kiera stood. “He’s lying. He and his friends tried to steal my gold. I filed a claim on that land under my legal middle and last names, Boudicca Alden. They set fire to my cabin. They tried to kill me and Marshal Quinn. The last time I saw the marshal, he was seriously injured, but alive.

The prosecutor hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets and stuck out his chest. “A likely story, and a very convenient pack of lies that accounts for everything but this.”

He and the judge seemed to have forgotten that it was her turn to speak. She intended to remind them and remained standing.

The lawyer withdrew an object from a pocket in his suit coat and presented it to the judge. “Your honor, I wish to place into evidence this badge. You will note that it is a US Marshal’s badge with the name Evrett Quinn engraved on the back side.”

The lawyer displayed the pointed metal star to the gallery then walked to the jury giving each member a good look at the blackened metal before returning it to the judge.

“How’d you come by this?” asked the judge.

“It came into my possession from the hand of the witness. Mr. Davis, explain to the court how you obtained this item.”

“It was an impulse, sorta. I was in the cabin, and it was burnin’. I tried to get my friends and the marshal out, but weak as I was from loss of blood I couldn’t manage. I knew that nobody’d take the word of one old miner against that of a beautiful woman, no matter how evil she might be. So I took the marshal’s badge to prove what I said was true. No marshal would give up his badge ‘less he’s dead.”

The jurors nodded their agreement, and excited whispers circled the room.

Faint with the certainty that Cream must have gone back and killed Ev or robbed his dead body, Kiera sat before she could fall down. Tears welled. To halt their flow she dug her fingers into the splintered tabletop. She concentrated on that small pain instead of the greater ache in her heart.

After the judge dismissed Cream with a warning that he could be recalled, Kiera hardly listened to the parade of witnesses. None of them knew her, although all of them said they saw her in or near the corral the night she and Muh’Weda had stolen back the Shoshone ponies. Several outright liars claimed to have seen her come out of the barn where the murdered sheriff had been found after the fire had been extinguished. Big Si made a huge deal of how the rubber hoses he’d ordered from back east saved his barn and prevented the sheriff’s body from being burned beyond recognition.

Even Si’s daughter, Elise, got in on the act giving a tearful account of the sheriff’s unrequited love for her. He’d been in the barn hoping to meet her. Of course she would never have done anything so rash, but if he hadn’t loved her he might still be alive, instead of dead at the hand of a murdering horse thief. The prosecutor’s piercing stare in Kiera’s direction made certain that judge, jury, and observers all knew that Kiera was the thief responsible.

At the end of the grueling day, Kiera was almost happy to be escorted back to the jail.

• • •

Boyd, on the other hand, was despondent. If the evidence was true, and it looked to be, Quinn was dead. Despite their differences, Boyd had liked and respected the lawman. The world would be worse off for his loss. In addition, Boyd was now forced to send a second telegram, one that he’d hoped he’d never have to send.

He set off for the telegraph office. Halfway there he stopped, ducking into an alley and behind a stack of crates that sat between a mercantile and a blacksmith’s shop.

Big Si and his daughter came down the boardwalk, and they appeared to be arguing.

“You did the right thing today, girl,” Si was saying as they paused in the opening to the alley.

“But I lied.”

“You lied for a good reason. Now no one’s going to suspect you of murdering Sheriff Boswell.”

“I didn’t shoot him, Daddy. I told you I went into the barn to be alone for a minute, and he was laying there dead.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, daughter. I know Sheriff Boswell had been pestering you.” Si gave an impatient shake to his head. “You should have listened to me when I told you to stay with the Marshal. When he quits marshaling to learn how to run my ranch, he’ll make you the right kind of husband.”

Elise bowed her head, but through a gap between the crates, Boyd saw pure hatred on her face. Si was too tall to see her expression, especially bowed like she was.

“But Marshal Quinn’s dead. That man, Davis, said so.”

“Are you doubting my word?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. Please let me make it up to you.” Her voice was meek and humble. However, the hands linked in front of her showed white knuckles.

What in tarnation is the woman doing?

“I got word from one of the men I set to watching the trails into Laramie. That the marshal ain’t dead. He’s headed this way with that redskin friend of the Wildcat’s. They should arrive tonight. You go to the hotel and make up to him. Be nice, find out what they’re planning then come tell me, and get those pictures that soldier said the Wildcat claims will prove her innocent.”

“You want to stop them from doing anything that might save Kiera Alden?”

Her father gave her a considering look. “Maybe you’re not so stupid after all. Now go wait at the hotel. I’ve got to meet Judge Richter back at the saloon.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Si waited until he saw his daughter walk into the hotel then he turned on his heel and strode off to the saloon that was open for business now that court wasn’t in session.

Heart leaping with relief that Quinn was alive and well, Boyd stayed hidden until he was certain Si was out of sight. He’d hold off sending that second telegram, but what to do now? If he tried to meet Quinn on the trail he might take the wrong one and miss him. No. He’d have to wait in town and try to get to Quinn before Si’s daughter. Maybe they could make use of her. Meantime, Boyd had a somewhat different telegram to send. Then he’d go tell Miss Alden that Quinn was on his way. After today’s barrage of lies, she could use some good news.

• • •

Ev dropped his things at the hotel and set out for the jail. He wanted to see Kiera, to know for himself that she was physically all right. Muh’Weda waited on the street. As Ev exited the hotel, he tipped his hat to Elise Van Demer “Evenin’, miss.”

The jailer asked for proof of identity before allowing Ev to see Kiera. He couldn’t find his badge, and his papers were too damaged by smoke and water to be legible.

“Knew it,” cackled the old man tending the jail since the sheriff died. “Can’t prove you’s Marshal Quinn, ‘cause he’s dead. Saw the evidence m’self over t’ the courthouse today.”

“I still want to see Miss Alden.”

“Nope. Ain’t lettin’ no liar with an Injun for a friend get anywheres near that she-devil. Y’ll try to break her out, and I ain’t lettin’ that happen.” He drew his pistol pointing it toward the ceiling. “Now get out of my jail b’fore I call for re-in-force-ments.”

The man jerked his gun hand up and down for emphasis.

Quinn raised his hands, palms out. “We’re going.”

Outside, he and Muh’Weda decided to fill their bellies. They’d ridden as hard as possible, given Ev’s wounds — now mostly healed, thanks to Spirit Talker. Eating only hardtack and biscuits in the saddle, they hadn’t stopped since leaving Yellow Stone Lake. As anxious as Quinn was to see Kiera, he couldn’t do anything about it now, and he needed rest. Despite the healing powers of Spirit Talker’s gift, Ev’s thigh pained him mightily. He’d be glad to lie in a bed tonight, even if worry for Kiera kept him awake.

“We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see her in court. With the evidence we brought, this travesty will be over before noon.”

Staring down glares from the white patrons already dining, the men entered the café and saw Boyd sipping coffee alone at a table, a frustrated expression on his face.

“Hey there, greenhorn.” Ev slapped the man on the shoulder.

The coffee Boyd had just drunk spurted from his mouth. He dropped the cup, spilling coffee across the table and leapt up to clasp Ev around the shoulders. Things must be pretty bad if Boyd didn’t even remark on the greeting that caused the spilled coffee.

“Am I glad to see you! Did you see Miss Alden?”

Ev shook his head. “That jailer refused to let me see her.”

“Me too,” said Boyd.

Muh’Weda appeared with a couple of rags. “I told the owner we’d clean up the mess, if he’d let us stay. I added that we’d pay for steaks and potatoes.”

Quinn grabbed a rag and started soaking up spilled coffee. “Tell us what’s happened. Is Kiera on trial yet?”

Boyd nodded.

“How’s it going?”

“Not well.”

With the table clean and dry, the three men sat, and Boyd related all that had happened in the two days of the trial. Then he told Ev about his suspicions, based on the conversation he’d heard between Big Si and his daughter. The explanations ended about the same time they finished their meal.

“She was sitting on the hotel porch, just as we were headed to the jail,” remarked Muh’Weda.

Ev nodded. “We’d better get back there pronto and find out what she’s up to.”

Boyd offered to pay for the meal. Ev and Muh’Weda rushed off to the hotel to talk to Miss Van Demer.

However, Miss Van Demer was no longer at the hotel. Boyd caught up with them, and the three men searched the town to find Big Si or his daughter.

They found Big Si pacing the lobby when they returned to the hotel. As they entered the building, Si strode to the desk. “You’re sure you haven’t seen my daughter?”

He sounded angry, or worried, or both. Ev observed the tension in the rancher’s shoulders and wondered what could possibly bother a man with Van Demer’s power? Did Si’s obvious concern mean something good for Kiera, or God forbid, worse?