The Texan's Bride (40 page)

He looked directly at Katie. She read the hate in his eyes and her stomach soured. A blackmailer and a murderer prepared to serve her with a penalty for a crime for which he was responsible. How’s that for justice?

She fixed her gaze upon the red, white, and blue Lone Star flag hanging on the wall above the judge and thought,
Holy saints above, I don’t want to die
.

“Kathleen Gallagher Starr Kincaid, you have been tried and convicted for the murder of Commissioner Robert Garrett. By the power afforded me by the State of Texas, I hereby sentence you to death by hanging.”

The courtroom erupted, cheers and jeers, and a horrified shriek from Martha Craig. Strickland raised his voice to be heard over the commotion. “In order to provide the opportunity for the citizens of Texas to witness the execution, and to allow sufficient time for the erection of a scaffold, I declare the punishment will be delayed until one week from today. At that time, Katie Kincaid, you will be hanged by the neck until dead.”

Gleefully, he declared, “This court is now adjourned.”

SHELBYVILLE MERCHANTS knew from experience that executions swelled profits. But even the most knowledgeable of businessmen never expected the extent of interest hanging a woman had generated. The night before Katie’s scheduled execution, every bed in every hotel, residence, tavern, and whorehouse in town had been claimed. Hundreds of visitors waited impatiently to see the State of Texas stretch Mrs. Kincaid’s lovely neck.

Hoss Garrett could be counted among the multitudes, and his presence did not escape notice. One man in particular made note that the head of the Garrett family traveled to watch his daughter-in-law die. Muttering an obscenity, he decided that with this, Garrett had gone too far to be forgiven.

PUFFY CLOUDS concealed the crescent moon, plunging the streets into near blackness. A tall, solid shadow separated from the building opposite the jail, then faded into the inky alleyway. Information had been gathered. Two guards, four guns. Simplicity itself.

FEELING HIS way with his good hand, a specter dressed completely in black crawled atop the mercantile’s roof. From that vantage point, he scanned the top of the building next door, searching. There, just as he had hoped, a thin wisp of smoke rose from the stove pipe.

ON THE courthouse lawn, the scaffold flashed beneath the intermittent moonlight. A near-silent scrape of metal on metal betrayed the attendance of mischief beneath the trap door. The creak of a twisting screw gave evidence of tampering on the crossbar. However, only the one who did the work heard the sound.

FOOTSTEPS PACED the wooden planks of a fancy-house room outside town. A muffled curse escaped the walls as an ankle twisted in unfamiliar feminine shoes. The notched tip of a forged steel bowie pricked the deep pockets of the dress. In lieu of an ammunition pouch, extra bullets went into the flowery plumage of a stylish hat. The occupant checked his rouge, then left the room.

HE POURED an equal amount of black powder into each hole of the Paterson Colt’s cylinder. Then he took a bullet from a soft leather pouch and placed it on the mouth of one chamber. Rotating the cylinder until the ball was under the loading lever, he rammed it home. He whistled a tune beneath his breath as he repeated the process for each chamber.

A small box sat beside him on the bed, and from it he took small brass percussion caps and placed them one at a time on the five nipples at the back of the cylinder.

The smile that crossed his face was ugly. He cocked the Paterson, and as was its design, the trigger dropped. He fingered the cool steel carefully, an imaginary scene playing out in his mind. Lamplight cast a dull blue gleam on the well-oiled surface of the gun as he uncocked it and tucked it into his belt.

He stood, gathered his other weapons, and set a wide brimmed, low-crowned hat upon his head. The door closed silently behind him.

BENEATH THE light of a single candle, Katie affixed her signature to the letter with a sense of finality. It was done. Thank goodness for that. Never before had committing her thoughts and feelings to paper proved so difficult. Probably the fact that she’d not defined those emotions to herself beforehand made the difference.

For the past week, she’d spent her time composing this letter to her son, hoping all the while that he’d never see it. Hour after hour, she’d worked to find just the right word, the perfect sentence to convey her thoughts.

The letter explained and denied, requesting and defended. It was a mother’s deathbed letter to a son she’d never know, a man who would grow to adulthood under the stigma of family scandal. She’d cried over the missive, and laughed. She’d confessed her deepest secrets and warmest memories. Most of all, she’d told her son of the great, undying love she’d felt for his father.

More than anything else in the world, she longed for the chance to tell him all this in person.

But just in case she couldn’t, if this plan she’d also composed during the last week failed, the letter would be delivered into Shaddoe St. Pierre’s hands as she had requested. Shaddoe would keep it for her, for Johnny. He’d make sure her son received it when the moment was right.

Shuffling footsteps interrupted her reverie. A key jangled in the lock and the cell door squeaked open. Sheriff Llewellyn massaged the back of his neck as he said, “Mrs. Kincaid, the streets are fairly clear now. If you’ve still a mind for that bath you asked for, I’ve informed the hotel to clear a room for you and heat up some water.”

His fingers pulled at his beard as he continued, “This is pretty irregular, and you have to know I’m obliged to stand guard over you. But seeing how it’s your last request, I’ll take you on over there if that’s what you want.”

Katie stood. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate your kindness.”

He ducked his head, shifting uneasily. “Sorry I couldn’t get you a better table to write at than that old barrel. Nothing else would’ve fit in here, though. Hope you got all the writing done you needed. I’ll take good care of your letters.”

Katie smiled at him. As he took her arm, escorting her from the jail, Katie fretted over her intentions. Of all the men who had a part in this farce orchestrated by Jack Strickland, Sheriff Llewellyn had proved to be the single honorable man. He upheld the law and performed his duty, although he obviously felt uncomfortable dealing with a woman prisoner.

She liked the man.
It’s a shame
, she thought,
that he’d be the one to get hurt
.

A harmonica played a melancholy song in the distance as they made their way to the hotel. The proprietor gawked at Katie as he led her and the sheriff up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall. Inside, all small objects had been cleared away; only heavy furniture and the brass bathtub filled with steaming water remained. Katie smiled with satisfaction.

She turned to the sheriff, a God-fearing, family man she’d been told. “Will you be inside or out, Sheriff Llewellyn?”

Color crept up his face. “Uh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I gotta stay in the room. I’ll give you privacy as best I can, though.”

“Very well,” Katie said, shrugging. She inhaled a steadying breath. So far, everything was going according to plan.

But now, with the moment upon her, could she follow through? Could she physically assault a man she respected, a man who acted only as his position required?

It’s either that, or die
, she told herself. She had to take matters into her own hands, so to speak. No one was coming to save her. She could depend only upon herself.

And that’s the way it ought to be. She’d forgotten it for a while, that’s all. Da had always told her, “The Good Lord helps those who help themselves.”

She’d not forget again.

Lifting her chin, Katie presented her back to Sheriff Llewellyn. “If you’d be so kind, sir, to undo my buttons?”

WHUMP. THUD
. One jailhouse guard went down.

Whack
. “Ugh.” Both men lay unconscious on the floor.

Shaddoe St. Pierre, disguised in buckskins and the traditional Cherokee turban, turned to the cell ready to speak and stopped. The door stood open wide.

Kathleen was not there.

He stared, gawking, and was therefore taken by surprise when the tall, ugly, loudmouthed woman burst through the door wailing, “You can’t kill her. Not now. I tell you, I work at Gertie’s place, and Katie Kincaid came there not two months ago asking for a way to rid herself of a babe. Well, of course we didn’t tell her, us knowing her husband so well and all. You cannot put her to death, Sheriff. She’s pregnant!”

Then her sharp brown eyes gleamed at Shaddoe. The handkerchief came away from her face, and a gun came out of her pocket.

“Don’t I know you?” a gruff, male voice asked.

Shaddoe said, “You are Garrett, Chase Garrett.”

In that moment, a billowing cloud of black smoke gushed from the potbellied stove.

Daniel Gallagher grinned as the sound of choking coughs came from the jailhouse. He picked his way over the side of the roof. Then, to his dismay, his damaged hand lost its grip and he slipped.

He fell square atop a man who was standing on a box and peering inside Katie’s cell window. “What the hell,” Keeper McShane gasped, attempting to catch his breath.

“Keeper? Is that you, Keeper?” Daniel asked in a whisper as he rolled off the other man.

“Gallagher? Well, I’ll be damned. How are you doing, Daniel? It’s been a while, ain’t it? Whatcha been up to? Been in the Territory all this time?”

“McShane, you are as dense as ever,” Daniel growled in a whisper. “My sister’s going to hang tomorrow unless I save her, and you’re interrupting my plan.”

“
Your plan
! You’re the one interrupting
my
plan.”

Daniel shook his head. “Well, never mind. Listen, I’ve blocked the stove pipe, and the place is filling with smoke. I’ve got to get in there
now
and get her out.”

He got to his feet and sneaked around to the door with Keeper following on his heels, whispering, “Say, I rigged the scaffold. There’s no way she’s gonna hang off that bit of lumber tomorrow. My plan’s perfect, I’ve got a wagon all set to go and black powder charges hidden all over town.”

Daniel crashed through the doorway, pistol drawn. Through the smoke, he saw the craziest sight he’d ever witnessed. A big, ugly, shorthaired woman was bent over double, coughing like a lung-shot sailor, holding a gun on Shaddoe Dancer, who beat at the stove with a lady’s scalp.

Keeper held a kerchief to his face and drawled through the cloth, “Well, I’ll be dipped in shellac.”

With the fire out and the door wide open, the smoke began to clear. The four men stared at one another, then straightened as one at the clicks of a pair of guns.

Silence hung like the smoke on the air. Then a voice familiar to them all growled, “Damn! She’s gone and done it again.”

SHERIFF LLEWELLYN’S fingers trembled as he worked the buttons at the back of Katie’s dress. Poor man, he was as nervous as a hen on a hot griddle.

She’d caught him by surprise with her request for assistance in undressing. He’d had to choose between helping her himself or leaving her to hunt down a woman who could act as lady’s maid, and he’d approached her as though he were the condemned.

Katie had rather hoped, for his sake, that he’d leave her alone. As it was, she’d have to hurt him, and she dreaded that as much as he flinched at undoing her dress.

She almost made her move while his fingers fiddled with the buttons and hooks at the back of her neck. His gun was in easy reach, and he appeared unaware of his vulnerability. But she hesitated, unsure, as her teeth nibbled at her lower lip.

She’d only get one chance.

Besides, she thought, seizing on the first excuse that flitted through her mind, if I act now, I won’t get my bath. After almost a month in jail, she wanted a bath almost as much as she wanted to avoid the hangman.

The sheriff managed to finish the job, then he marched to the door where he stood with his back to her. The skin above his collar scorched red. Rocking on his heels, he shoved both hands in his pockets and waited.

Katie didn’t wait. She stripped off her clothing and climbed into the warm, lilac-scented water with a heartfelt sigh. Never again would she take such a simple pleasure for granted. A bar of soap and a washcloth sat on a chair within reach. After scrubbing the stale scent of the jail from her body, she stretched her neck and dipped her head back into the water. The soap didn’t lather nearly as well as what she once made, but she washed her hair as best she could.

A wooden bucket of fresh water sat at the foot of the tub. Should she do it? The more flustered he was, the better. Aloud, she said, “Sheriff, I hate to bother you anymore, but I need to rinse my hair and I can’t lift the bucket. Would you please help me?”

“Oh, umm, ah, Mrs. Kincaid, I don’t think so,” he stammered.

“Please? I know this whole situation is a bit difficult, but Sheriff Llewellyn, it’s very important to me that I meet my end with as much composure as I can muster. A clean person will help me so much in that regard. Please, sir?”

“Oh, all right.” He shuffled to the tub. Lifting the bucket, he started to pour the water over Katie’s long hair. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as his eyes darted a look. He dumped the rinse water in a rush, dropped the bucket, and scurried back to his position by the door.

A quick little smile flashed across Katie’s face as she climbed from the tub, wiping water from her eyes. He really was a nice man.

Drying herself, she considered her plan of action one last time. Was this the right thing to do? Would it work? She had no earthly idea how she’d get out of town, but then, a few days ago she’d had no idea how she’d get out of jail. Surely, even if she got caught, it would be better than sitting around waiting to feel the noose tighten around her neck.

And she really didn’t want to die.

Chatting all the while, she quickly slipped into her underthings. She consciously milked every rustle out of every feminine frill that she could as she donned her dress. She talked about the weather; how she hoped the visitors in town wouldn’t be hurt by the heat expected the following day. The first time she sat on the bed, the ropes didn’t creak. She sat again and they did.