Maureen McKade (31 page)

Silence stretched out in the courtroom. A man coughed and another person shifted their feet. A fly buzzed, resounding in the eerie quiet.

“And what did you do?” Jake asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I pulled the trigger.” A tortured sob racked his small body. “I didn’t want to, but he was hurting my ma. He’s a bad man!” He stumbled out of the witness chair and ran over to Kit.

She enfolded him in her arms, tears running down her face as he cried on her shoulder.

A movement beside her made Kit glance up, and she saw Jake standing by them.

“You raised Johnny to tell the truth, Kit, and that’s what he wanted to do. You can’t blame him for doing the right thing. He takes after you.”

Her throat closed, and she could only nod in return. As Johnny clung to her, Kit settled him on her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

Jake moved to the center of the room. “Defense would like to call David Preston to the stand for further cross examination.”

The newspaperman’s pale face matched his white
sling, and hatred glittered in his eyes. With shuffling footsteps he walked to the witness chair.

“Did you attack Kit Cordell?”

He flushed. “As I stated before, no, I did not.”

Jake leaned close to him. “I want to remind you that you are still under oath.”

“I am aware of that.” His brittle tone echoed in the hushed courtroom.

“Are you saying Johnny Cordell’s testimony is a lie?”

“Yes.”

“Did Johnny bite you?”

Preston’s bloodless lips thinned. “No.”

“May we see your legs, Mr. Preston?”

“Objection,” the prosecutor called out.

“Johnny says he bit Mr. Preston’s leg. Mr. Preston said he did not. If we’re to determine who’s lying and who’s telling the truth, we need to see the proof,” Jake argued.

“Objection overruled,” Judge Blair said. He looked at Johnny. “Show us which leg you bit, son.”

Kit lifted him off her lap. “Go ahead, Johnny. Your father won’t let him hurt you.”

Reluctantly, he shuffled over to Jake. Holding her breath, Kit watched her son point to Preston’s left leg.

“Raise that pants leg, Mr. Preston,” the judge ordered.

“There’s ladies in the room,” Preston argued.

Blair sighed. “Ladies, if the sight of a man’s leg will shock you, please close your eyes.”

Kit kept hers wide open as Preston lifted the hem of his trousers a few inches.

“I bit his knee,” Johnny said.

“Higher, Mr. Preston,” Blair commanded.

As the material was raised, a bruise came into view,
a black and blue ring with obvious teeth marks. Voices buzzed, and Preston glared at the boy.

Jake kept his arm around Johnny. “In light of this new evidence and the fact that Preston has obviously lied, I move that the charges against Kit Cordell be dropped.”

Judge Blair nodded without hesitation. “I agree. Sergeant O’Hara, place Mr. Preston under arrest for assault.”

“And attempted murder,” Jake added. Blair sent him a questioning look. “Of me, Your Honor.”

A smile flitted on the judge’s stern lips. “You heard Counsellor Cordell—assault and attempted murder.”

“He also killed my horse,” Jake added grimly.

“Add destruction of personal property, Sergeant,” Judge Blair said.

“Yes, sir, Your Honor,” Patrick replied with a grin. “With pleasure.”

Kit collapsed in her chair. Jake had done it—her hero had saved her again!

Patrick came forward and escorted Preston out of the noisy courtroom. As the newspaperman passed Kit, he sent her a look brimming with virulence. No longer afraid, she held his gaze until he looked away.

Judge Blair banged the gavel on the table. “Case dismissed. Court is adjourned.”

Jake and Johnny rushed over to Kit, who stood and opened her arms wide to receive their embraces. Jake wrapped his arms around her, hugging her with Johnny caught between them. Tears flowed down Kit’s face, making everything a blur.

The judge approached them, and Jake withdrew but kept his arm around her. He shook Blair’s outstretched hand.

“Your father would be proud of you. You handled
yourself very well.” Blair patted Johnny’s head. “I’ll bet your papa is proud of you, too.”

Jake rested a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. “Yes, sir, I am.”

With a smile, Judge Blair left the room.

The townsfolk swarmed around them, slapping Jake on the back congenially and offering Kit their congratulations. Many even apologized for believing the worst of her. She had strived for acceptance most of her life, and now that she had it, she found all she wanted to do was go home and be with her family.

Jake captured her lips with his as they stood in the circle of well-wishers. He drew back and gazed at her with loving adoration. “You’ve always taken care of everyone else. Now let us take care of you.”

“You always have, Jake.” She smiled through tears of happiness. “Didn’t you know? You’re
my
dime novel hero.”

Jake glanced at her quizzically.

Kit’s joy changed to eager anticipation. “I have a feeling that T. K. Thorne can finally write Jake Cordell’s final chapter.”

Epilogue

L
ooking out the kitchen window, Kit saw the two buckboards enter the snow-covered yard. She pressed her hands to her lower back and tried to alleviate the perpetual ache eight months of pregnancy had produced. It didn’t help, but Johnny barreling into the house made her forget her discomfort for a few moments. Wintry air eddied around her ankles.

“Here’s the mail, Ma,” Johnny announced, handing her a stack of papers. “We saw Pa, too, and he took me and Charlie and Ethan to lunch.”

Before Kit could comment, the boy dashed outside, a bundle of energy packed in his wiry body.

She smiled. Only Jake could have gotten a town to leave behind its prejudices and allow a Negro and a half-breed to eat in a restaurant. There were still a few folks who held onto their biases, but on the whole, Charlie and Ethan were treated like everyone else.

Charlie carried in a box of supplies. “Jake gave me strict orders to put this stuff away and not let you anywhere near it.” His white teeth shone brilliantly against his dark skin. “So don’t you be gettin’ me in trouble with him.”

Kit shook her head ruefully. Women had babies all
the time, but Jake was bound and determined to treat her like she might break at any moment. It was only another one of his exasperatingly endearing qualities she loved. “Will he be working late again?”

Charlie shook his head. “Said to tell you he’d be home in time for supper.”

“I’m glad. He’s been working too hard lately.”

“If Judge Blair had his way, Jake would be runnin’ for governor.”

Pride surged through her. Jake had already gained a reputation as a good lawyer and, more important, a man with integrity. She had no doubt that if he wanted to, Jake could someday be governor of Wyoming. Jonathan would have been very proud of his son.

She glanced in the box Charlie had set on the table. “Was the material I ordered for the baby clothes in?”

He grinned. “Why do you think I needed two wagons?”

“I didn’t order that much, did I?”

“Nope, but Jake did.”

He ducked out of the kitchen before Kit could question him further. Knowing her soft-hearted husband, he’d gone overboard with presents, intending to make up for all the Christmases he’d missed.

Shaking her head, she glanced down at the mail Johnny had given her. She sighed. A couple of bills, a note from one of her regular horse buyers, and a letter for Jake from his mother. The seventh one in as many months.

The last and largest envelope sent Kit’s heart into a stampede, and she eased down into a chair. The day of reckoning had arrived. How often had she practiced her confession?

“
I have some news for you, Jake,” she said calmly
.

She was always cool and collected as she faced her image in the mirror.

“
About those dime novels, the ones written by T. K. Thorne? Well, I’m T. K. Thorne
.”

Then Jake would look suitably impressed, and tell her he was proud of her.

Kit buried her face in her hands. In reality, Jake would be madder than a stepped-on snake. He’d wonder why she’d waited so long to tell him. She’d asked herself the same question numerous times. And the answer was fear. Life had been near-perfect since the trial, and she’d been scared to upset the buggy.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her bulky body upright. She’d tell him tonight. She couldn’t put if off any longer.

At supper that evening, Jake read the letter from his mother. “She’ll be here in less than a week.”

“My grandma’s gonna be here for Christmas?” Johnny asked excitedly, forgetting he had just forked a mound of potatoes into his mouth.

“That’s right,” Jake affirmed. “And what have we said about talking with your mouth full?”

Johnny swallowed his food. “Sorry. What’s she like, Pa? Is she like Ma? Is she as old as Pete? Does she talk like Mrs. Finster?”

“That’s Mrs. O’Hara now,” Kit reminded him. Freda had finally taken the chance, accepting Patrick’s assurance that he wasn’t like her dead husband and wouldn’t break her heart with his drinking.

“I have a feeling she’s something like your mother, Johnny,” Jake replied, a sad smile playing across his rugged face. “And I don’t think she’s as old as Pete.” He winked at Kit. “Nobody’s as old as Pete.”

“How long will she be here?” Kit asked.

“Long enough to see her second grandchild come into the world. She says she’s missed too much already.”

Kit reached across the table and laid her hand on Jake’s. He squeezed it gently. “You told her she’s welcome
for as long as she wants to stay, didn’t you?”

Jake nodded. He took a deep breath and pushed his empty plate back. “Come on, Johnny, time for bed.” He waggled a finger at Kit. “And you sit there until I come down. I’ll do the dishes.”

She arched her brow and waited until he and Johnny were upstairs before she stood and began clearing the table. By the time Jake returned to the kitchen, she had the dishes washed and wiped but not put away.

Jake wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward a chair in the kitchen. “Sit.”

Kit giggled, but sank into the seat. “I think you’ve been spending too much time training Toby.”

“And I think my wife is too mule-headed and stubborn,” Jake retorted.

Watching him place the dishes in their proper places, she should have been content. However, the last dime novel lay heavily on her mind. Would he still treat her with such loving concern after he heard her confession? Her stomach roiled and the baby kicked, startling her.

Jake was at her side in a moment. “What’s wrong?”

Seeing his beloved face creased in worry sent her heart spiraling. “The baby moved.” She took Jake’s hand in hers and laid his palm on her stomach’s ample curve. Another kick. “Did you feel that?”

Wonder lit Jake’s face, reminding her of Johnny’s when the boy found an interesting worm. She laughed softly at the analogy.

“I wonder if Johnny moved this much,” Jake said reverently.

Kit nodded. “More. Maggie would let me feel him kicking. It was such a strange feeling.” She smiled. “Now it’s not strange at all. Just wonderful and comforting at the same time.”

He was silent a moment, although he kept his hand on Kit’s belly. “I didn’t love Maggie.”

Kit met his poignant gaze. “She knew that, but you cared for her. And for Maggie that was enough.” She began to stand, and Jake helped her the rest of the way up. “Let’s go to bed.”

He arched a brow. “Is that an invitation?”

Kit glanced down at her ungainly body. “I’m fat, Jake.”

Stepping behind her, he slipped his arms around her, below her breasts, which had grown fuller during her pregnancy. “You’re not fat. You’re carrying our child.”

He kissed the sensitive nape of her neck, and she shivered. It would be so easy to postpone her confession. Another day. Then another day, and another …

No, she had to tell him tonight. No matter the consequences, she had to tell him the truth. It was the only barrier left between them.

“I have an early Christmas present for you,” she said, her voice fluttery.

Although he appeared puzzled, he followed her up the stairs, a steadying hand at the small of her back. Once inside the bedroom, Jake seated himself on the edge of their bed.

Her insides trembling, Kit reached into a dresser drawer and withdrew the book. With her back to Jake, she clutched the dime novel to her chest and breathed a silent prayer, asking for courage.

Turning slowly, she handed it to Jake. “Merry Christmas.”

He glanced at the cover, frowned, and looked back at Kit. “
The Final Adventure of Jake Cordell
?”

She nodded. Her heart pounding like she’d run a mile, she said, “It’s autographed.”

He opened the cover and read the words Kit knew by heart.
This is my dime novel hero’s last adventure, but you and I have the rest of our lives to write our own happily ever after. All my love, Kit
.

He turned his bewildered gaze to her. “I thought you meant the author autographed it.”

“She did.”

“I don’t get it.”

She sank onto the mattress beside him before her quaking knees buckled. “T. K. Thorne is the pseudonym for Theodora Katherine Thornton.” She took a deep breath. “
I
wrote the dime novels.”

He stared at her like he’d never seen her before, and Kit’s fears intensified.

“Why?”

Her hands balled into fists to keep them from trembling. “You’ve been my hero for years, Jake. The stories were my way of thanking the knight in shining armor for rescuing the ten-year-old damsel in distress; my way of staying close to you.” Anguish filled her. “I never thought they’d put your life in danger, or get Zeus killed. That was the last thing in the world I wanted.”

His silence unnerved her. He shook his head. “Preston didn’t shoot Zeus or me because of your books. You can’t blame yourself for those things.” He twined his fingers with hers. “We’ve been lucky no one’s come gunning for me, but if someone does, that won’t be your fault, either.”

Kit frowned, puzzled.

“What a person does after he reads the stories isn’t your responsibility,” he said softly.

“But you hated the dime novels. You said they’d made your life miserable.”

A sad smile tugged at Jake’s lips. “
I
made my life miserable. T. K. Thorne was only the scapegoat.”

“Then you’re not mad at me?”

Jake set the book on the nightstand and embraced Kit. “How can I be, knowing why you wrote them?”

She wound her arms around his neck, savoring his heartachingly familiar scent.

“And if someone had told me I’d be married to T. K. Thorne, I would’ve said they were crazy.” He kissed her forehead tenderly. “The only craziness is you loving someone like me.”

She threaded her fingers through his thick silky hair and flashed him a saucy smile. “Must’ve been a moment of insanity.”

He grinned. “Feel like doing something a little crazy right now?”

An hour later, as Kit dozed, snuggling close to him in the aftermath of their abandoned lovemaking, Jake gazed down at her tenderly. He brushed a golden curl from her forehead, then feathered a kiss across her smooth brow. A slight smile touched her passion-swollen lips, as if she recognized his touch even in slumber.

Carefully, so he wouldn’t disturb her, Jake reached for the book sitting on the stand. Below the title,
The Final Adventure of Jake Cordell
, he spotted the subtitle in smaller letters:
Shut Up and Kiss Me, Jake
. He laughed quietly.

With T. K. Thorne nestled close to his side, he began to read her last tribute to her dime novel hero:

Jake Cordell’s search had finally come to an end
…