Callahan swore and kicked the door. The room in which he’d been placed was too big for storage, too small for a stall, and too dark to find a way out. Spencer had locked him in the sleeping quarters that had been built into the stable. The livery owner had made it as snug as possible for the Wyoming winters and sturdy enough to keep out any liquored-up, cattle-driver cowboys. The sheriff had taken no chances with locks that could be picked; he’d laid a heavy timber on brackets across the door to prevent his prisoner from escaping. The only light in the room came from a glimmer of moonlight that shone through a crack in the wall opposite the door.
Moving forward, Callahan stumbled over what he discovered was a bucket and a … chair? An object caught him mid-knee, plunging him forward—an iron bed. He groaned. At least he’d found it with his uninjured side.
Callahan wasn’t sure he was ready to accept the word of an Indian on his brother’s whereabouts, no matter who the Indian was, but Josie had been certain. He clung to that hope. It was all he could do. Now, thanks to that same Josie, he was back in jail. And if the ruckus he could hear coming from the other side of the wall was any indication, he was about to be strung up—with or without the benefit of her expert legal help. He climbed up on the rickety bed, balancing a foot on either side of the frame.
A sliver of light came from a crack in the wall where the window might have been, if there’d been one. If he could just get his fingers behind the plank …
His hands were too big. He needed something to rip it off, an ax or a good knife. Too bad he didn’t have either. Too bad he didn’t have Josie Miller in here. He’d use her stiff backbone to pry it open or just let her argue the boards off the wall. The more he thought about what had happened, the more frustrated he became. It made no sense. The logical portion of his mind told him she hadn’t set him up, but his heart wasn’t so certain.
Callahan swore. Whatever the reason, he’d let a woman distract him, and now he was locked up again when he ought to be on the trail of the wagon train. Then again, what good had he ever done? They’d lost the plantation back in South Carolina. He hadn’t saved his sister and Ben from the horrors of the war. Now their cattle ranch was on its way to ruin. He hadn’t even been able to protect the money entrusted to him by the ranchers. Even worse, Ben was missing.
And then, there was Josie.
Will had caught both of them red-handed. He’d chosen to overlook Josie’s part in the break-in, protecting her by insinuating that she’d been part of a plan that would result in Callahan’s arrest. But Will knew she’d implicated herself legally in the crime for which Callahan had been charged.
Involving herself, Callahan now knew, was something of a given from the start. Josie looked after every stray in Laramie, but up to now they’d mostly been women and drifters down on their luck. This time she’d taken on an outlaw. And he didn’t think that her normal rescue services included making love in a river. Once she’d kept Will Spencer from removing him from Dr. Annie’s clinic, the die had been cast. He hadn’t wanted her help; he hadn’t wanted to be obligated to any woman. But it seemed as if fate had taken a hand and determined that they belonged together.
Miss Josie Miller, his guardian angel, was the adopted daughter of the most prominent couple in Wyoming, in a time when women were coming into their own. They could vote, they could hold public office. Josie was an attorney, and she was a better doctor than ninety percent of those hanging up a shingle. But more than that, she was a woman who knew what she wanted and went after it. The last thing he’d ever expected was that someone like her would want a man like him.
Or that he’d drop his guard to trust her. Loyalty was a rare quality in anyone. He respected that. He respected Josie. Hell, he was probably in love with her. That made it impossible for him to let her suffer for her big heart. Or allow her to take charge and protect him by making sure he stayed in jail. He’d look after himself—if he could just get out of here.
Callahan pressed his eye to the crack. He caught hold of a splinter of wood and stripped it out, widening the opening so that he got a clear view of the men milling around outside. He’d known most of them for three years, and he’d trusted them. They were desperate now or they wouldn’t believe that he and Ben had stolen their money. Desperation made men crazy. He should know. For a time after the war, when he understood how much his family had lost, he’d been crazy too. Nobody knew about that, except Josie. Not even Ben.
A shout drew his attention, and he saw a man carrying a torch walk into the middle of the street. “I say we string the son of a bitch up!” the stranger yelled.
Another man appeared with a rope in his hand. “I’m for it!”
He wasn’t one of the ranchers whose money had been stolen. But there was something familiar about him. Then Callahan knew. Perryman’s messenger. Jerome. Stirring up the town seemed to be Perryman’s purpose. If he managed to get Callahan hung, he would pull off his thieving scheme. He’d keep the money and foreclose on the ranches he’d financed. And not even Josie could stop him.
The crowd noise grew. Things were about to get ugly. And Callahan had had more than one run-in with ugly crowds. Some people went to jail. Some people died.
Callahan hit his hand against the wall. “Spencer, get me out of here!”
At that moment Will Spencer appeared in the doorway of the hotel across the street, with Josie right behind him. “Now, wait a minute, men,” Spencer said. “Let’s not do anything foolish.”
“Foolish? Is it foolish to protect what’s yours?” a man carrying a torch demanded. “Winter’s coming. We have no supplies, no cattle, and no way to pay our mortgages.” His voice rang out and other men joined him. They were disgruntled and angry, waving their torches in the air.
“How do you figure killing Callahan is going to solve that?” Spencer asked, chewing on a piece of straw as he leaned against the post supporting the roof over the hotel sidewalk.
“It’d make his lying brother come back here,” Jerome said, egging them on.
“How’s that?” Will asked quietly. “If Callahan is already dead, why would Ben come back?”
“ ’Cause he ain’t brave, that’s why.”
The voices grew angrier, frustration feeding the illogical arguments of Perryman’s man.
Josie disappeared into the hotel and returned moments later, holding something in her hand. “Gentlemen!” she called out several times before she lifted a small pistol and shot over their heads.
One bullet lodged in the livery wall about six inches from Callahan’s shoulder.
“Hellfire, woman.” Callahan jumped back from the crack. “You may be a fine lawyer, but you’re no marksman. You damn near shot me.”
The crowd quieted.
“Well, well, lookee, lookee,” someone in the mob called out. “What do we have here—Callahan’s woman. She’s standing behind her man.”
“Callahan’s attorney,” Josie corrected. “Some of you may not know me. I’m Josie Miller. Dan and Dr. Annie’s daughter. I think I have a way to straighten this out.”
Disagreement rumbled through the crowd, but they were willing to listen.
“You need five thousand dollars to pay for your cattle. If you had the cattle, would you have enough income to settle your debts?”
A swell of agreement seemed to rise. Then one rancher said, “Maybe. But now that I think ’bout it, if Perryman’s figuring on foreclosing, the cattle might not be enough, at least not soon enough.”
“If you had the cattle and enough money to make your next mortgage payment, would you have a chance?”
Callahan couldn’t see where she was going, but she had their attention now.
“All right, I have a proposition for you. I’m organizing the Sharpsburg Cattleman’s Association. Each of you will own shares in it according to the amount of money you contributed to the cattle fund. I will buy those shares and advance you enough money to make your next mortgage payment.”
There was a stunned silence. “So what’s in it for you, Miss Miller?” one of the ranchers asked.
“Sims Callahan is my client. He did not steal your money, but since we have been unable to find out who did, I’ll make restitution. When the missing funds are found, I will be reimbursed. When your herds prosper, you can repay the remainder of your loan. If they don’t, I’ve just gambled and lost. Fair enough?”
“She’s up to something,” one of the men called out.
“I’m trying to save you!” she shouted. “I’m sending a telegram to my banker in New York for the money for the cattle and a little extra to pay the notes. The funds will be transferred to Laramie within a few days. The bank in Laramie will send the money to Sharpsburg.”
“Why would you do this?” one of the ranchers asked.
“Don’t trust her,” Perryman’s lackey called out. “It’s some kind of a trick.”
“No trick. I’m doing this because …” She took one look at the stance of the men—hands on their weapons, eyes narrowed—and knew they wouldn’t believe her, no matter who she was. “Because …” She faltered and began again. “Because Sims Callahan and I plan to be married. I would prefer that my husband not be in jail.”
A loud guffaw exploded in the crowd like a gunshot.
“Well, you sure have a peculiar way of treating the man you’re gonna marry. A woman wouldn’t ordinarily turn her husband in to the law—unless she was scared he was about to run out on her.”
“Yeah!” someone agreed. “Looks like Callahan will get the Miller fortune and our money, too. If she wants him, maybe we’d better listen.”
The men milled around for awhile, talking among themselves, then dropped their torches. “When do we get the cash?”
“You can come for it in a couple of days. I’ll see Mr. Perryman before I leave town and make arrangements to take care of the mortgage payments.”
Callahan heard her, but he didn’t believe it. Their acceptance came too easily. He never really believed that she’d turned him in to keep him around. Was her reputation as a lawyer important enough to her for her to bail him out with marriage? No way he’d have any part of that. This was one Miller woman who had to learn she didn’t run the outfit. She could talk her way around most men; she’d just done that. But he’d be damned before he let her talk him into marriage. When he got ready to marry—if he ever did—he’d be the one to decide.
The door to his cell opened and Josie stepped inside.
“Josie!” he roared as someone closed the door and dropped the timber in place behind her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, blinking in the sudden brightness of her lantern.
She set it on the floor by the door. “Buying us time until we find Ben and the missing money.”
“From what I heard it sounded more like you’re buying me!”
“Relax, Callahan. I know you don’t care about me—as a wife, that is. You don’t have to marry me.”
“You don’t know what I have to do—what I want. Hell, I don’t know what I want. You’ve got me so turned inside out that I feel like a snake with a half-shed skin.”
She took another step closer. “Well, I’m ready to talk about this when you are. But unless you want Perryman to hear our plans, I think you’d better lower your voice.”
“I will not lower my voice. If I want to yell, I damn well will!”
She was as calm as a cucumber, but he was so full of pure frustration that he couldn’t deal with Josie, not when all he could think about was where and how they’d spent the afternoon.
“Let’s talk, Callahan,” she said in a controlled voice.
He looked at the ground, pressed his lips together, and looked back at Josie before he finally spoke. “After all that conversation you just had out there in the street, I’d think you ought to be ready to be quiet.”
“Well, I could stand a few minutes of … silence.” She let out a little sigh.
He could feel her breath.
“Unless there’s something else you’d rather do,” she added tentatively.
What he wanted to do was throttle her. What he did was reach out and pull her into his arms. “You’re the most aggravating woman I’ve ever known.”
His mouth covered hers, kissing her ruthlessly for seconds. Then he let her go, groaned, and said, “Is that what you wanted? Every time we disagree, I end up kissing you and you get your way.”
“And so do you,” she said softly.
“Damn it, woman. You get inside a man’s mind and you don’t even know you’ve done it, plying your soft woman’s ways to get what you want. You rush out and do things without asking or even stopping to think what the consequences may be.”
“Do I?”
“You know damn well you do.”
His mouth was only inches away from her lips but he’d stopped kissing her. She shivered. I don’t know any soft woman ways. Callahan was wrong. She was very different from women like her mother. She always considered the consequences and made her choice. And her choice was to reach up and pull Callahan’s face down so that she could kiss him again. But this time he held himself stiff, refusing to return her kiss until she slid her tongue into his mouth.
Then he growled and met her thrust for thrust.
She moaned, smiled, and stepped back. “What consequences don’t I consider?” she asked.
His breath was as tight as hers. “Don’t you understand? You could be arrested, Josie.”
“For what? You kidnapped me, forced me to accompany you to your ranch, to get you into the bank. As far as the ranchers are concerned, I’m the innocent bystander here.”
“Only until they find out you can’t come up with the money you promised.”
She wondered if Will listened from behind the stable wall. “But I can pay for the cattle, and I think I can meet all the mortgage payments, too. I’ll have to find out for sure, but what I don’t have, I’ll get.”
“And how do you plan to do that? Dan and Dr. Annie may be wealthy, but they aren’t likely to finance your little peccadillo with an outlaw, and I don’t think fifty-cent legal fees add up to much.”
“Callahan, I have money—my own money.”
“Considering what I know about your life of crime as a child, dare I ask where you got it?”
“I earned it myself, in New York.”
There was a long silence. “And it didn’t come from being a lawyer, did it?”
“No. From investments. I started with a hundred dollar birthday gift from my grandfathers. They taught me how to invest it. They’re gamblers, both of them, and I did a lot of gambling on the market, too. Found out I was as good at picking the stocks that would double in value as I was at picking locks. I made a lot of money, Callahan. Money I intended to use to help people, to help women like Ellie go to school and learn how to take care of themselves.”
“And now you’re going to use it to pay back the money I’m supposed to have stolen? I won’t let you do that.”
“Estoppel,” she snapped.
“Estoppel? What’s that?”
“That’s Latin legal talk for saying you can’t stop me, or close enough.”
Callahan glared at her, emotion feeding his anger once more. “Josie Miller, this is a good example of what I was talking about. You’re like an avalanche just rolling over everything in your path. I don’t understand about the law, and I don’t trust it. Don’t you understand, I have to do this? I have to get out of here and find that money and the missing jewelry. Or did you intend to replace that too?”
Josie turned away, crossing her arms over her chest as if to stave off a chill. Callahan was a force to be reckoned with. She’d seen enough of his anger to fear him if he really let go. He was like the storm that came the night she saw the ghost horse, all power and danger. Then his anger changed into something else that filled the space between them with sheer desire.
She had to be careful, lest she push them both too far. Taking a deep breath, she tried to regain control of her emotions so that her words would calm him. “You just gave me an idea. Tell me what the jewelry looks like.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to tell you just yet, not until I get it all worked out in my mind. Please, Callahan”—she reached out and touched his hand—“we have to work on your defense. Let’s not argue. We’re liable to be interrupted any minute. Just tell me.”
He looked away, his brows furrowed in the lamplight, his eyes wide. Josie waited. Lubina had called him a devil; maybe she’d been right. The shadows beneath his eyes reminded her of how near he’d come to death. Now he was locked up again for a crime he didn’t commit and in danger of being hung. She could understand his frustration.
“Trust me, Callahan. I need to know what the jewelry looks like.”
“I don’t really know what the other ranchers had, I never looked. Ben handled that. But one of the pieces was my mother’s cameo. It belonged to her mother, and it was the only thing she managed to hold onto during the war. My father sold everything else. I don’t know what it looked like. It was just a cameo, with little pearls around the outer edge, I think.”
“That’s enough. When I see it, I’ll know.” She could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.
“When you see it? You aren’t going to break into Perryman’s safe, are you?”
“If I have to, but that’s not what I have in mind.”
Josie had a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Ellie says that Mr. Perryman is giving a party, and I’ve decided to attend.”
The Oregon Territory Trading Post was just that, a rustic building dating back to the time of the French trappers and traders. The proprietor carried supplies and provided a corral holding a few horses, a tent that doubled as a washhouse, and sleeping quarters for the stagecoach that still ran twice a week.
Rachel rode past the post, beyond the stagecoach office. She climbed down from her horse, led him to the water trough, and looped his reins over a fence post at the corner of the corral. Hanging back, she waited until Brother Joshua, his scout, and the committeemen representing the rest of the wagon train entered the post, then she walked toward the door. There was no way she could inquire about missing men without being overheard. But she’d promised Jacob, and she didn’t take her promises lightly.
Then she saw the thing she’d dreaded. Posted on the stagecoach wall was a flyer.
WANTED FOR ROBBERY
SIMS AND BEN CALLAHAN
BROTHERS FROM SHARPSBURG
REWARD
Telegraph Sheriff Will Spencer
Laramie, Wyoming
ARMED AND DANGEROUS
Rachel’s heart sank.
Sims and Ben Callahan. Wanted for robbery. Rachel glanced around, making certain that no one was watching, then reached out and grabbed the paper. As if she were holding the handle of a hot pot, Rachel jabbed the paper inside her carryall. With heart pounding, she turned and moved into the store. If Brother Joshua had any idea that her Jacob might be one of the wanted men, he’d turn him over to the law. The flyer had to be a mistake. Her Jacob was too kind and gentle to be a robber.
Her Jacob. Even his name was a lie. Everything about their relationship was a lie—except the man himself. He’d married her out of a sense of obligation, telling her that he might even be married already. He’d been honest and she’d accepted that—because she needed him. He’d treated her with respect. She owed him something in return. But in spite of this, she realized that the pieces were beginning to fit. The name he’d called out was Sims. Her Jacob was one of the robbers.
What should she do?
Nothing, she decided. Not yet. Jacob wasn’t well enough to be subjected to jail and a trial. He needed to be protected. He didn’t know who he was, so as far as she was concerned, until he did, he wasn’t the man on the poster. Inside the post she gave her eyes time to adjust to the darkness and she listened.
“I’m Brother Joshua, God’s messenger,” the minister said.
“Hoke Pierce. This here’s my place. What you folks need?”
“You call this the Oregon Territory Trading Post,” Brother Joshua said. “But I thought the Oregon Territory was still more than a hundred miles away.”
“Yeah, well, it is now, but when folks first come out here, all the land from the Wyoming Territory to the Pacific Ocean was called Oregon.”
The proprietor looked up and caught sight of Rachel. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “What can I get for you?”
“I need just a few things: flour, coffee, cornmeal, salt.” She stepped farther into the room and caught sight of some canned peaches. “I’d like two cans of those peaches, please,” she said, and fished her change purse from her reticule. “And maybe five cents worth of that hard candy.”
The men continued to talk among themselves while Rachel’s order was being filled. “Lot of excitement,” the man behind the counter said. “Did you run into any of those renegade Indians?”
A worried look crossed Brother Joshua’s face. “Indians? No. What happened?”
“Who knows what’s got ’em stirred up,” Hoke said. “But you’d best be careful. The last stagecoach driver through here said he saw several raiding parties.”
“Did they hold up the stage?” Brother Joshua’s scout asked.
Hoke shook his head. “Funny thing about that. Just looked in the coach like they were searching for somebody, then rode off. Driver said he didn’t have no passengers. Guess they weren’t interested in the mail.”
“Here you are, ma’am,” Hoke said, and gave Rachel a total.
She winced while counting out the money. Perhaps her concern over the Indians was unnecessary, unless they were looking for Jacob. But that didn’t make sense. Why would Indians be looking for him? Their unrest was probably just more Indian unhappiness over the loss of their land. Still, she was anxious to get back to the train.
Thanking the storekeeper, she carried her supplies back to the horse she’d borrowed from Eli’s father and led him over to the shade of a tree.
If it were up to her, she’d ride back alone. But the threat of nervous Indians made that impossible. Brother Joshua wouldn’t allow it. She was neatly boxed in, Jacob and whoever was looking for him behind them, Fort Bridger and the Army ahead. An army fort would certainly be on the lookout for a robber. At least the wagon train would head north, avoiding the fort. And by coming here, Rachel had been forewarned. She’d keep Jacob in the wagon to avoid calling attention to him.
She reached inside her carryall and made sure the flyer was still safely hidden. It was just a matter of time until someone else saw one. When they crossed the Green River, she and Jacob would leave the train. Once they made it to her land, he would be safe. After that, they’d just have to take things one day at a time. Deep in thought, she barely heard the crying. She tilted her head to listen. The sound came from an animal, not crying so much as whimpering.
She followed the noise to a sorry little fenced area lined with sagebrush. Inside, tangled in the brush, was a small hound-like puppy. At the sight of Rachel, his brown eyes lit up and he wagged his long tail limply.
“Oh, you poor little thing,” she whispered, picking him up and holding him close. “You’re half starved, aren’t you?” The word half was an understatement. No animal should be treated like this.
She started toward the trading post in strides that meant harm to Hoke Pierce or whoever had penned up the dog. Then she stopped. No telling how long the little thing had been out there with no shelter, no food or water. It was obvious that whoever was responsible didn’t deserve him.
Voices announced the return of the men. Rachel whirled, turned back to her horse, transferred her supplies to her saddlebag, and slipped the dog in her carrying case. “Be quiet, little one,” she cautioned.
As if he understood, the dog allowed Rachel to mount her horse and hang the handle of her case over the saddlehorn.
“Ready, Mrs.—what is your name now?” Brother Joshua asked.
“Christopher,” Rachel answered. And somehow she had become Rachel Christopher, who, with her husband Jacob, was heading out west to their farm and to start a new life. The pup let out one soft little sound of contentment, and as if he knew, he complied with her silent request for the rest of the ride. Now Rachel was guilty of theft, too. She hadn’t stolen money as Jacob was accused of, but taking a small brown pup was just as much a sin.
Rachel Christopher, she repeated to herself. She liked the sound of that name. As they rode back toward the train, Rachel Christopher began to sing a familiar old hymn about going home. To her surprise, Brother Joshua joined in.
“Maybe he ought to sing his sermons,” the scout said under his breath, and gave Rachel a wink.
Brother Joshua was returning to his flock.
Rachel was returning to Jacob.