Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4) (21 page)

William’s best clothes were soaked and his tall black boots were brown with mud. He was so chilled even his teeth trembled. All he wanted to do was toss this man into a jail cell and lock him up for the night. Maybe for good.

Bear had wisely wounded the robber instead of killing him, and the man would need medical care. But first, William needed to see what this man knew about where the robbers hid the state’s gold.

After tying the horse in front of the blockhouse, he yanked the still knocked out fellow off and then drug him inside his office. He dropped the dripping wet man on the wooden floor. Leaving the prisoner tied securely, he went upstairs to wake his deputy. William provided the young man with
quarters in the blockhouse as part of his salary.

William hurried downstairs and found the robber moaning. He was sure this one deserved to suffer, but he would get him medical care as soon as he got the information he needed.

When Mitchell joined him, he briefly explained to the deputy what had happened. Then, grabbing the robber’s feet and arms, they carried him to the next room and put him in one of the dirt-floor cells fitted with bars and padlocks. After untying the ropes, he locked the jail securely, and returned to the office.

“I could sure use a fire and some coffee deputy,” William requested. “Hopefully it will also wake this bloke up and we’ll get him to talking.”

As the rain continued to drum against the roof and the thunder rumbled overhead, he removed his soaking tricorne and hung it on an antler hat rack by the door. Then he took a moment to pour the rainwater from his muddy boots and set them aside to dry out. He hung his wet coat on the back of a chair, dried his face off, and reloaded his pistol with dry powder.

While William changed into a spare shirt he kept in his office drawer, the deputy scraped flint against a firesteel to light some kindling and soon had a small fire going in the office’s undersized hearth. Before long, the strong smell of the coffee brewing did help to wake the robber.

“Where am I?” the man asked in a voice so weak William barely heard it.

William grabbed the handbill off his desk and, followed by Mitchell, strode into the room that held the cells. “I’m Sheriff Wyllie and you’re in my jail,” he answered.

He could see the prisoner through the bars. He looked pale, cold, and obviously in pain. “We know who you are—the fourth robber of the state’s treasury.” William held up the handbill so the thief could see the drawing depicting the four men. “And many other pilferings have been attributed to you and your three dead cohorts.”

“One of them was my younger brother,” the man hissed, his fervent
anger rapidly bringing him to life.

“All three were killed while committing an armed robbery. We don’t abide stealing in Boonesborough.”

“Go to hell.”

“What’s your name?” Deputy Mitchell asked.

“You can go to hell too,” the man shot back.

“All right, we’ll just call you Mister Thief,” William said. “I have a ‘T’ brand hanging right over there that has in the past been used to brand the hands of thieves.” William had never used the brand himself, but didn’t want this man to know that. “Perhaps Judge Webb will order branding as part of your punishment, Mister Thief.”

“I want a doctor. Get this lead out of my shoulder,” Mister Thief demanded. “And get me some dry clothes. I’m freezing.” The man’s teeth were rattling.

The robber’s tone was belligerent and William was in no mood for either defiance or demands. “There are four classes of punishment Judge Webb imposes—fines, public shame, physical chastisement such as whipping, and death. I have a feeling you have all four in your future,” William said.

“That coffee sure smells good,” Mitchell said. “Would you like some sheriff?”

“Indeed, I would,” William said.

For a few minutes, they both sipped the fragrant brew in front of Mister Thief. William leaned comfortably against the wall and he could see the man swallowing and licking his lips, craving the hot coffee.

“Can I have some of that?” the thief finally asked in a meek voice.

“Only cooperative prisoners get coffee,” William said. It was bait that hid a hook. “But we have a barrel of stale water over there if you want a dipper full.”

Mister Thief pinched his lips and glared at William. “My name is Jacob Miller.”

“Is that your real name?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Mister Miller.” William said. “Deputy, please get the man a cup of coffee.”

As the deputy retrieved a cup, William asked, “Where did you and the others hide the gold you stole from the state treasury?”

Miller just stared at William. “If I tell you that, what do I get?”

“First, a doctor. I’ll send my deputy to wake the town physician now instead of waiting until morning. That way you won’t bleed all night and it will be less likely to fester.”

“And?” Miller asked, through narrowed eyes.

“And, I’ll tell Judge Webb that you cooperated during questioning,” he answered. “Perhaps that will cause the good judge to not send you straight to the gallows.”

“Only
perhaps
?”

“Well, Judge Webb has a well-earned reputation for being an intolerant and impatient judge. I cannot guarantee what he has in store for you. But if I were in your boots, I’d sure try to win his favor.”

Mitchell passed a cup of steaming coffee through the bars and the man took it with his uninjured arm.

William knew it wouldn’t be long before the bleeding worsened if the lead weren’t removed soon and the shoulder stitched up.

“Where’s the gold?” William asked again.

“I might as well tell you. You’ll find it anyway,” Miller reluctantly answered. “It’s in my saddle bag. I was going to take off for Tennessee after I robbed the four of you and took my revenge on that fellow who killed my brother.”

No wonder the horse had such difficulty. The poor animal had been carrying the weight of two men and the gold. It had been raining so hard he never took the time to look inside the two saddle bags. The gold had been hidden in plain sight.

“Deputy, go outside and bring in the saddle bags hanging on that horse. Then take the weary animal to the stables and see that he’s feed properly, watered, and sheltered from the storm. Give him a thorough wipe down too.”

“You’ll say a good word for me?” Miller implored, returning William’s attention to the robber.

“I’ll let the judge know you revealed where the gold was and anything else you’re willing to tell me.”

“And the doc?”

“As soon as he gets back from tending to your horse, I’ll send my deputy to fetch the doctor.”

William shut the outer door to the jail and eyed his still scrawny deputy as he drug in the weighty bags leaving a trail of water behind them on the wooden floorboards. “Thanks deputy, I’ll take it from here. Please tend to the robber’s poor horse as quickly as you can and then fetch the doc.”

After Mitchell left, William inspected the well-soaked leather saddle bags sitting in the middle of his office floor.

He opened one bag. The thief had told the truth. The shining gold coins glittered in the dim light of William’s oil lamp. The heavy bags held a mixture of gold eagles, half eagles, and quarter eagles. William knew the coins in the dazzling assortment were eleven twelfths pure gold, the same 22 karats level as English crown gold.

Governor Garrard would be well pleased. He needed a safe place to store the gold. He used his knife to pry up one of the floor boards under his desk and tucked the weighty bags inside.

He retrieved writing materials so he could make an accurate list for the
judge and went back to question Miller. “Now, I want you to tell me what other robberies you four committed and where,” William demanded.

Once he had the list, he would send messages via the postal rider to each of the towns’ sheriffs and determine if any murders had been committed during the robberies. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the four committed numerous slayings.

If this were the case, he had a feeling Miller would wind up hanging despite his cooperation.

With his quill and another cup of coffee in hand, he sat at a rickety pine table against the wall in the narrow jail room and Miller began relating a lengthy list of crimes. It was going to be a long night and he wouldn’t be going back to Whispering Hills anytime soon.

Bear and Artis would just have to wait to get married.

He hoped his brother would not be too distraught.

Chapter 25

K
elly sat across the table and Bear waited for her to begin. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. For several minutes he listened to her relate what had happened when she arrived at the cabin. A man named Steller had been waiting here for Artis, holding a pistol on her father. The name lingered around the edges of his mind as he continued listening to Kelly. Then he remembered where he had heard the name before—from Artis. His father taught him to forgive his enemy, but remember the bastard’s name. So he’d made a point to remember the name of the man who had caused Artis so much grief. “Wait, did ye say the man’s name was Steller?”

“Yes, I did.”

“He’s the devil that slit her mother’s throat!” It was no wonder Artis drug herself out to the smokehouse. She must have been terrified.

“Murdered her mother?” Kelly asked, her eyes widening.

Plainly, Kelly had not overhead the conversation he’d had with Artis in the back of the wagon on their way to town for the delegates’ meeting.

“Aye. And the devil drove Artis and her village from Scotland. He burned many other Highland towns to the ground to make room for sheep farmin’.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The man is beyond cruel. If he’d found
Artis, he would have taken her with him, despite her severe wound.”

The questions mounted in Bear’s mind. “Why? Why did he come all this way for her and how did he find her? And why would he want to take her with him?”

Kelly turned her pensive face away from him.

He reached out and put a hand on her forearm. “Tell me lass.”

“Oh, Bear. I don’t want to be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” He tried to stay calm, but he was losing his patience. The veins in his neck throbbed and strained against his skin. Why was she being so perplexing?

Kelly rubbed her lips with her fingers as if to hold in her words. Then she took a deep breath and shot the words out. “Steller says she is his wife.”

Her words thrust through him like a knife to the heart. He felt as if his breath were cut off. He withdrew his hand from her arm. It started shaking. He was glad he was sitting down because he might have fallen down, so great was his shock. Could it be true? The question hammered painfully on his heart. He’d known Artis only a few days and had no way of knowing if everything she’d told him were true. Was it the worst sort of naiveté, even madness, to believe everything she’d said was true? All the tenderness he sensed coming from her, was it genuine? Had he unwisely rushed into marrying her? Did he give his heart to a married woman?

His entire body knotted, his muscles twisting and tightening, as he sat there considering Steller’s outrageous claim. He ignored the mocking voice inside his mind that repeated
‘she’s his wife,’
over and over. Another more forceful voice answered
‘nay, she’s my wife’
again and again.

He gazed over at Artis, lying on the bed, fighting for her very life. She looked so pale and helpless. His mind replayed everything she’d told him over the last few days. In his mind, he heard every word of the pledge she made to him. Her vow felt as true as God’s word. He tasted the sweetness of her kisses again. He felt her warmth against his chest. He touched their clan crest. It all meant something. Everything.

And, somehow, with complete clarity, he knew he could trust her.

He pushed back from the table and stood. He would give no credence to anything Steller said. The man was the vilest sort of human—capable of anything. Lying would come naturally and easily to him. It was nothing more than a despicable lie.

“Nay, I do na believe the loathsome man. He’s lyin’,” Bear said fiercely. “I trust her. I trust her heart. She said she loved me and only me and I believe her.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. “Oh Bear, I know you’re right. Artis would never have married a man like that. I haven’t known her long, but I trust her too.”

“So do I,” McGuffin agreed. “But I don’t trust Steller. Bear, the man nearly killed Nicole trying to force Kelly to reveal where Artis was. What kind of man could kill a child?”

“The kind that dies by my hand,” Bear said harshly. “
Na sir ‘s na seachan an cath
. Neither seek nor shun the fight. Steller came here seeking Artis to hurt her again. I’ll na give him the chance.”

“No, you can’t follow him! He said he’d come back and kill Nicole and Papa if anyone came after him,” Kelly insisted.

“What else did the whoreson say?” he asked.

Kelly seemed reluctant to say anything, so McGuffin spoke up. “He said he would come back for Artis. And maybe Kelly too.”

He could hear the worry in McGuffin’s voice. Steller’s vile threats clearly terrified both of them.

“Did he beat ye?” he asked McGuffin.

“We fought. I refused to tell him where Artis was. That was while all of you were at the ball—before Kelly brought Artis back in the wagon.”

He turned to Kelly. “Did he hurt ye?”

She answered in a rush of words. “Yes. He slapped me harshly and
nearly strangled me when he couldn’t find Artis. He thought I’d hidden her somewhere.”

“How did Artis hide?” he asked.

Kelly explained, telling him how she provoked Steller into a shouting match, hoping it would wake Artis and give her time to hide. And that it must have worked, because when Steller went outside, Artis was gone.

“So, she was so fearful of Steller, she forced herself from the wagon and even after losin’ all that blood, managed to drag herself to hide?” he asked.

“She did. She was exceedingly brave. I found her on the smokehouse floor clutching the mountain lion’s skin against her heart.”