Married At Midnight (34 page)

Two tall men in dark apparel flitted along the alleyway until they reached a corner of the structure that stood across the

street from the old Milburn building. There, from the protective darkness, the pair observed the sentries who were guarding

the warehouse. Several lanterns had been hung to light the area in front of the edifice, and as the two guards strode back and

forth across the full length of it, they were wont to pause in passing and exchange a bit of conversation before moving on to

the opposite ends. There they turned and strolled back.

A broad-shouldered hulk of a man joined the pair who watched from hiding and, with a low disgruntled grunt, shoved the muzzled cat into the arms of the one who stood nearest him.

"Here!" Sheriff Rhys Townsend leaned near Jeff to hiss. "This was your damn fool idea, so I'll let you have the divine privilege of holding this infernal beast. With all these claw marks on my arms, my wife is bound to wonder what she-cat I've been bedding down with, and we haven't even been married long enough to have had our first fight yet. Besides, it looks like the two of you will be needing this wildcat more than Farrell and I will."

With a grin, Jeff gathered the struggling cat against him and almost immediately Felix quieted, recognizing a familiar friend. When Jeff scratched him behind the ear and stroked his back, the animal began to purr in delight.

The sudden change in Felix's disposition drew another disgusted snort from the sheriff. "I tried doing that, just like you

told me," Rhys Townsend grumbled in a raspy whisper, "but that ornery critter refused to mind his manners."

Brandon wiped a hand across his mouth to curb his own mirth. It was a known fact that this huge hunk of a sheriff didn't like cats any better than he did poisonous snakes. "Never mind the excuses, Rhys," he murmured through a grin. "We understand that you're skittish around cats and don't hold it against you.

The problem, as I see it, is that Felix knows it, too."

Townsend cut his eyes sharply, fixing his friend with an exasperated glower. "I haven't seen you nuzzling up to the thing!"

Brandon spread his hands to protest his innocence. "Can I help it if I like dogs better?"

"Humph! No one can make me believe that Jeff Birmingham prefers cats over dogs," the sheriff commented. "Not with all

those hounds I've seen around Oakley."

Brandon grinned at the very idea. "Jeff would have had a menagerie in the house if Ma had let him."

Jeff approached the more pressing matter at hand as he asked the lawman, "What did you find in the back?"

"Two guards, just like here in the front, but the area's not as well lighted, so we'll have the advantage.

Farrell said he could

wait around the far corner without being seen and grab the guard closest to him when he makes his turn.

I'll take the other

one about the same time. What about the two of you?"

"Once Felix has claimed the guards' attention, Brandon and I can take care of these two." Jeff laid a hand on his friend's arm and urged, "When you grab the two in back, make sure they don't have a chance to set up a hew and cry beyond what the cat and dog will make. We'll have to get Raelynn and Dr.

Clarence out alive, and we can't charge into the warehouse until we do."

Rhys Townsend chuckled softly as he unhooked a heavy cudgel from his belt and slowly slapped it in the palm of his hand. "Once we smack 'em alongside their heads with a pair o' these, those guards'll collapse like flies who've given up living."

"Just leave 'em breathing, will ya?" Brandon quipped with wry humor. "I've sparred in fun with Farrell Ives enough to know

he packs a powerful wallop."

Townsend's broad shoulders shook briefly with silent amusement before he leaned forward to whisper,

"You can bet that

fancy man didn't learn to fight like a warrior in that elegant clothier shop he owns."

Brandon grinned. "You'd better not let Farrell hear you calling him a fancy man or you'll get the chance to count your teeth when you pick 'em up off the floor."

Rhys shrugged. "Oh, he's heard me all right, but he knows I'm just jealous of his good looks and all those fine clothes he

wears. I wouldn't intentionally insult him in his hearing. My mama didn't raise a nitwit."

With a casual salute, the sheriff grinned and crept away. Soon his large bulk was shrouded by darkness.

A moment passed before the two guards came together again in front of the warehouse. Jeff lifted a hand

and silently motioned to his brother, sending Brandon flitting quickly along the side of the building where they stood. Rounding the back corner at a run, he disappeared behind it.

Jeff waited, giving Brandon time to get into position at the far end of the structure, then he removed the muzzle from the cat

and tossed him gently in the direction of the warehouse. Felix lit on all fours without emitting a sound, then paused to casually survey his surroundings. He began to stroll leisurely along the street toward the guards, but when the silence was abruptly rent by a loud barking, the tomcat crouched in sudden alarm and looked back along the dark street in the direction from which the disturbance was coming. When a huge dog bounded into view, Felix took off with a shriek, setting the two guards to guffawing as the animal tore down the street toward them. The hound gave chase, and only Jeff saw Brandon dart across the street behind the laughing guards and disappear into the inky blackness at the far end of the warehouse. When the two sentinels turned to watch the animals, Jeff dashed to the opposite end and pressed back into a wedge of ebony shadows.

The front door of the warehouse opened, and Olney leaned out to demand, "What the devil's going on out there?"

One of the guards waved away his concern. "Nothing to worry about. Just a dog chasing a cat. How's Gustav?"

"Much better. The doc is with him now, givin' him more o' that sleepin' potion. Ye boys keep it quiet out there so's he can rest."

The door closed, and the guards resumed their pacing, passing each other as they strolled to the far corners of the warehouse. As they made their turn, a sudden sharp blow on the head sent each of them into a state of unconsciousness. Soon they were tied up, gagged, and dragged around the corner of the building, where they were dumped.

* * *

Inside the warehouse apartment, Dr. Clarence closed his satchel and, taking it in hand, approached Raelynn. She sat slumped in a chair near the door, looking completely exhausted and thoroughly dejected. It seemed unusually good timing that he heard a soft chirp just outside the portal as he laid a comforting hand upon her shoulder. "A walk outside will do you good, child," he advised. "You've breathed enough of this foul, dank air to make you sick. Come outside and see me off, then you can spread a blanket near Gustav's bed and try to get some sleep. None of his men will dare bother you."

Raelynn came slowly to her feet and glanced questioningly at Olney. "May I go outside for a while with the doctor?"

"Ye may," he answered with a smirk, basking in the authority he had been given over the two, "but remember ... If ye try to escape, I'll shoot the doctor and chain ye to Gustav's bed. Ye'll be the first face he sees when he wakes."

Raelynn trembled, too fatigued to ignore his threats. She nodded meekly, and the doctor opened the door for her. Crossing

her arms beneath her bosom, she heaved a disconcerted sigh and stepped out into the lantern-lit darkness. Beyond the buildings to the east she could detect a subtle lightening of the night sky that

heralded the coming of dawn.

Olney came to stand in the portal behind her and called to the tall, darkly garbed man striding to the far corner. "Ye watch

them real good now. The girl's not to leave, do ye hear?"

"I hear," came a mumbled reply.

The door closed, and suddenly the guards whirled and came running toward them. The doctor grabbed Raelynn's hand and, bending low, pushed his face near hers, claiming her complete attention.

"Take hold of yourself, girl. You're in for a shock."

Raelynn moaned in distress and tried to withdraw. "Please, I'm too tired to cope with anything else."

One of the guards stepped beside the doctor, no doubt to prevent any trickery they might have been discussing, but she

turned aside, refusing to acknowledge his very presence. She had had her fill of Gustav's toughs.

"Raelynn?"

Her breath caught in her throat. The rogue's voice was soft and cajoling, sounding very much like... like Jeff's!

But surely her beleaguered brain was playing tricks on her.. ..

"Dear Raelynn, will you not look at me?" the man softly queried.

She whirled, glaring through sudden tears. No filthy charlatan had a right to mimic the genteel manners of her husband ...

or his voice!

Then her eyes lit on the all-too-familiar face, and the shock came with as much force as a blow. Her knees buckled beneath her, and if not for Jeff springing forward and catching her, she would have slumped to the ground.

"You're alive! You're alive!" she raved excitedly as he drew her up against him. She clutched at him, hardly able to believe

this moment was real, that he was really alive! Her hand shook as she touched his cheek. "But I saw you lying deathly still

upon the stairs! And there was so much blood! I thought you
were
dead! Did my eyes deceive me? How can you be

standing here now as if nothing had happened?"

"I was only wounded, my love," he averred with a smile. "The shot creased my scalp and knocked me unconscious. That

was all."

Brandon had halted nearby and glanced toward the far end of the warehouse as the sheriff came running around the corner. Laying a hand on his brother's arm, he urgently implored, "Jeff, we've got to get Raelynn out of here now. Townsend and the men are ready to storm the warehouse, and if she's still here when Gustav's bullies put up a show of resistance, she may get hurt in the crossfire."

"Let me take her to Oakley," Dr. Clarence urged. "My buggy is nearby."

"Heather will be there to take care of her," Brandon informed them. "She was going to have one of the servants drive her

over after I left. She'll be relieved to have Raelynn back safe and sound."

Despite the offers of help, the young bride clung desperately to her husband, too afraid to chance letting him go. "But can't

you take me home yourself, Jeff?"

Dr. Clarence kindly offered an explanation. "Your husband will be needed here, my dear, to set aside any lie Gustav may try

to pass off on the sheriff." The old man laid a gentle hand on her arm and cajoled, "Come, child. You can find the rest you

need at Oakley. Brandon's wife will be there to watch over you and give you comfort, and Jeff will come as soon as he's able. Doctor's orders, you know."

Raelynn was deaf to the old man's logic and resisted his efforts to draw her away. "But what if something should happen to

you, Jeff?" she argued, her voice choked by tears. "I thought I had lost you before. I would simply die if I lost you now."

Gathering her close, Jeff laid his cheek against her sweetly scented hair as he turned her statement around. "And what would

I do, my love, if you were wounded or killed in the fray?" he asked tenderly. "What if some of Gustav's men escaped and

found you? I'd never forgive myself if they stole you away again. The safest place for you to be right now is on your way

back to Oakley. I'll send a couple of men back with you to make sure you and the doctor arrive safely."

Raelynn groaned, understanding his reasoning, yet unwilling to be parted from him. Still, she could not easily ignore the men who were waiting to rush the warehouse. It seemed she had no choice but to relent.

"I'll go to Oakley," she mumbled gloomily. "But I won't rest until I know you're safe."

Jeff leaned down to press his lips near her ear. "Wait for me in my bed, my love. Ere the sun rises and sets again, we'll share

it together as man and wife."

* * *

Sheriff Rhys Townsend laid a hand on the sturdy iron grip of the door and, without so much as a knock or a salutation, threw the heavy portal open and rushed inward with a pair of pistols drawn. Several miscreants scrambled for cover, fifing their weapons as they went. The deafening din wrenched Gustav awake with a startled jerk. He lay in paralyzed fear upon his bed as lead balls zinged in a crisscrossed pattern overhead. Even in his dazed stupor, he realized the folly of trying to rise. Jeff bolted through the door, discharging his dueling pistols toward the crates from whence other shots were being fired. Brandon followed hard on his heels, and bedlam erupted as a dozen men charged in behind him, brandishing arms of one

kind or another. The deputies quickly dispersed inside the warehouse apartment, and a mad scramble ensued as the rogues tried to find a way of escape. But the windows were barred and the doors could

their retreat, the brigands turned and fled

into the main warehouse where they hid behind stacked crates or hunkered down in whatever nook or cranny afforded them protection. The air fairly cracked with a barrage of gunfire, and all the while Gustav lay in frantic confusion upon his bed.

Dazed by the heavy draught of laudanum, he could only wait for someone to come to his rescue.

Raising a hand, Jeff caught Townsend's attention and gestured to the bed. The leader of the ruffians was obviously at their mercy, and what better way to end the conflict than to point that fact out to his men.

The sheriff grinned, catching Jeff's meaning, and sprinted quickly across the apartment to force his presence upon their unwilling host.

Gustav gulped as he stared in wide-eyed alarm into the bore of the pistol that was suddenly thrust into his face.

"Now, you hold still, ya' hear," Townsend advised with an exaggerated drawl and a disturbingly complacent grin. "Else I'm gonna have to hurt you a
lot."

Gustav tightened his slackened jowls and glared at Townsend over the barrel of the gun. "Vhat is zhe meaning of zhis?" he demanded. "Vhat right do you have to barge in here and threaten me and my men?"

"Why, I can't believe ya don't know me, Mistah Frederick. 'Round these here parts I'm known as the sheriff." Townsend

was enjoying himself immensely and gestured casually with his weapon as he talked. After several moments elapsed, he

noticed the German's rapt attention with the bore of the pistol as it bobbed up and down before his eyes.

Raising the sights charitably to the ceiling above their heads, not be safely reached. Firing haphazardly to cover Townsend grinned down at

the man. "But let me introduce myself, Mistah Frederick. I'm Sheriff Rhys Townsend."

"I know who you are, you imbecile!" Gustav snarled in rampant disgust. "And my name is
Fridrichl
Gustav Fridrich!"

"Well,
Fridrich,
let me tell ya another thing. If'n your men don't put down their weapons, y'all gonna be in a mighty heap

o' trouble. So what's it gonna be? The surrender of your men... or your immediate arrest?"

"Do I have a choice in zhe matter?" the German queried derisively.

"Nope," Townsend replied with cocksure certainty.

Gustav fixed him with a stony glare as he mulled over his options, but even with his thoughts muddled, he grasped the full

import of the situation. The sheriff had offered him no alternative; he had to comply or be arrested. And no telling what

would happen if he left the warehouse to the lawman's discretion.

"Zhis is Gustav speaking! I say to my men, lay down your veapons," he called out, straining to be heard.

"If you can hear me, tell zhose who cannot! The sheriff vill take me in if you continue to resist." The gunfire began to slacken as other voices passed his message on. "Believe me! A mistake has been made.

Do not fear vhat zhe sheriff vill do to you. He cannot arrest you without a reason."

Townsend considered the German with blatant skepticism. "Seeing as how you and your rowdies barged into Mistah Jeffrey's house, shot him and made off with his bride, not to mention a few horses and gear,

I'd say I've got some dastardly good reasons to arrest the lot of you."

"Zhat thief stole my voman!" Gustav railed. "I have zhe bill of sale to prove zhe girl is mine, bought and paid for in Charleston zhis very afternoon!"

"You mean yesterday afternoon, don't ya?" Townsend needled. "Maybe you don't know it, but the sun is coming up on a

new day."

"Vhatever! It makes no difference!"

"Well, I'd like to be straight about the time," the sheriff prodded. " 'Cause it might clarify your motives and mean the difference between your arrest for kidnapping and horse thieving or your release on the grounds that you were attempting to retrieve

some property you actually laid out money for."

"No matter vhat time I bought her, she is still mine! And I can prove vhat I say!" Gustav looked around until he spied Olney.

He gestured imperiously toward a desk as he bade the younger man, "Fetch zhat paper Cooper Frye signed."

A tall, good-looking gentleman, who sported a flawlessly clipped Vandyke beard, approached the foot of the bed. Briefly his eyes passed over a rumpled and rather gaudy frockcoat and a feathered hat hanging on a nearby clothes tree, but the pained frown that flickered across his brow was short-lived. His own clothes were dark and suitable for the mission he had been called upon. Even so, the garments were stylish and fit his muscular, square-shouldered frame superbly.

Returning his gaze

to the occupant of the bed, he bestowed a dazzling white-toothed grin upon the injured man as he presented himself.

"I'm Farrell Ives, and although we've never met, I've heard of you. I own a clothier shop here in Charleston, which you obviously know nothing about, but I can assure you it was right there on the boardwalk in front of my establishment that

Jeffrey Birmingham bought Miss Raelynn Barrett from her uncle, as I and .. ."—he inclined his head toward his companions—"a goodly number of these gentlemen here can attest to. I understand that my friend married her, too, so I

rather think that makes her his."

"Zhe vench is mine!"
Gustav bellowed. Receiving a folded piece of parchment from Olney, he issued a snort of derision

as he sailed it toward the sheriff. "Zhere is my proof! Let Herr Birmingham provide evidence zhat the girl is his,
if
he can!

Let him stake his claim to her,
if
he is here!"

A shuffling of feet marked the opening of a passage as the men who had crowded into the apartment stepped back, allowing the Birmingham brothers to approach the bed. Gustav and Olney gaped in shock, for they could not mistake Jeff Birmingham. The one who followed had to be closely related, for the resemblance he bore to the other was astounding.

Halting beside the bed, Jeff gave the German a bland smile as he handed Townsend a lading bill upon which he had written

out his contract with Cooper Frye. He now used it as a receipt to verify his purchase of Raelynn. "I'm not a ghost," he

assured Gustav. "Your lackey was just a poor shot, that's all."

Olney bristled at the insult, but he rushed to his own defense. " 'Twas an accident!" he cried. "I didn't mean to shoot ye!"

Brandon's brief, sardonic laugh assailed his assertion. "That's not what I've heard."

Jeff settled a dubious stare upon the young hellion. "Nor I. You remember my butler, don't you? Well, Kingston swears he heard you boasting about aiming your pistol at my head and shooting me. That doesn't sound like an accident to me."

Olney sneered. "Who'd take a black man's word over mine?"

Townsend paused in his scrutiny of the receipts and settled a baleful squint on the man until Olney, feeling the penetrating

heat of his stare, turned a questioning gaze to him.

"You're looking at the man," Townsend informed him bluntly.

"Looking at the m-man?" Olney stammered. "What do you mean?"

"What cha do, boy? Forget what ya said?" Townsend goaded, drawing hearty laughter from his deputies.

"You're not very smart, are ya? Maybe I need to spell it out for you so there won't be any question about it. I'll take Kingston's word over

yours anytime, any day."

Olney had a strong sense of self-preservation. Flying into a temper, he jabbed a finger accusingly at Jeff.

"This fella was threatenin' Mr. Fridrich with a loaded pistol! And ye can see that he shot him, too!"

"How easily you forget, boy!" Townsend admonished. "Mr. Fridrich was an intruder in the Birmingham house! He went there

to steal this man's
wife

Gustav broke into the verbal fray with a shout of denial.
"Nein!
She is mine! Bought and paid for!"

With a wry grimace, Townsend scrubbed a hand over his bewhiskered chin as he glanced down at Jeff's voucher. Then he cleared his throat. "Well now! 'Tis clear that Cooper Frye signed his name to both documents, but if it's a matter of who paid more for the girl, Mr. Birmingham's got you beat, Mr.

Fridrich, by three times as much."

"It does not matter who paid more! Vhat is important is who bought her first!" Gustav ground his teeth against the pain evoked by his movements as he braced himself up on an elbow. "Cooper Frye came to me about four in zhe afternoon and said zhis man had made an offer to buy his niece. Right zhen, I gave him two hundred fifty Yankee dollars for her and made him sign a receipt. Vhen I sent my man to fetch her to my varehouse, Cooper Frye told him zhat Herr Birmingham had stolen his niece and taken her home vith him. He said
nothing
about Herr Birmingham paying for her! If he has a receipt, zhen he must have bought her after zhat!"

" 'Twould seem that Cooper Frye has cheated you, Herr Fridrich," Jeff informed him bluntly. "By the time four o'clock rolled past, ol' Coop was already richer by seven hundred fifty Yankee dollars. 'Twas at least an hour earlier when he acquired that sum from me as payment for his niece."

"Nein!"
Angrily Gustav shook his head. "Cooper Frye vould not dare cheat me!"

Jeff smiled derisively. "I surmise, Herr Fridrich, that your confidence in the integrity of the man may be based on some

mistaken idea that he's frightened of you." He indulged the German by explaining with terse impatience.

"After taking money from me, Cooper Frye met with you and sold his niece for a second time in so many hours. Face it, Gustav. You've been duped, by an Englishman right off the boat from London."

Farrell Ives stepped forward again, capturing the sheriff's attention. "I was there, Rhys. I saw it all happen. At a quarter till

two yesterday afternoon, I heard Cooper Frye say that he had promised his niece to Gustav Fridrich. By two-thirty, Jeff had already given Cooper Frye his money and the man had gone on his way. Nearly half the town was there to witness the event."

At least half a dozen men nodded in affirmation, prompting Townsend to return Jeff's receipt to him.

Tilting his head aslant, the sheriff considered Gustav at some length. " 'Twould appear you've been rooked by a crafty old crow, Mr. Fridrich. But since you've provided proof that you actually bought the girl, I guess I can't arrest you for kidnapping. Horse-thieving maybe, but I expect you were in a bit of an anxious rush to get fixed up by Dr. Clarence. Still, I'd advise you to stay away from the Birminghams from now on. Otherwise, I'll have to consider you a menace to the peace of this area." He handed over the German's receipt as he continued. "On another unrelated matter, I'd like your permission to look through your warehouse.

I've heard some allegations that you and your men have been smuggling, and if I can, I'd like to put down such rumors as

pure speculation."

Gustav's pale eyes grew chilled as he stared back at the lawman. "And if I deny your request?"

Townsend grinned pleasantly. "Well, seeing as how you were responsible for getting Mr. Birmingham shot, I might have to arrest you anyway, along with that young whelp you hired." He glanced up to fix that one with a pointed stare, only to realize that Olney had slipped out of sight. Townsend quickly pushed through the gathering of men to look for him, but it soon became apparent that Olney was nowhere to be found. Perplexed, Townsend looked toward his deputies. "Where'd that young scamp get to, anyway?

Didn't I tell you to watch all the doors and windows so no one would escape?"

"We did, Sheriff!" one of his men insisted. "He must be in the main warehouse somewhere. 'Tis sure no one could've escaped through the doors."

Several deputies walked through the warehouse, while a trio of others went outside to look around the area. After a futile search, they all returned. "He's gone, Sheriff!" one man announced breathlessly. "He must have slipped out while y'all were arguing over the ownership of Mrs. Birmingham."

"Well, damme," Townsend swore, flushing red with chagrin. "That boy might be slow-witted, but he sure knows how to