The Wrong Brother's Bride (25 page)

“You’re saying he couldn’t have stolen the cattle at four-thirty in the evening on November tenth?”

“Not if he walked from his home to mine, and Elizabeth gave him shelter,” Gideon confirmed.

August sagged in relief as Stine excused Gideon. His heart pounded. If the judge and jury couldn’t trust the word of a preacher, who could they trust? Feeling better about the trial than he had since Fowler arrested him, August took a calming breath. He listened with half an ear as the lawyers made closing arguments.

“The jury will make a decision and we’ll reconvene here when they’re in agreement.” Judge Geiger rapped his hammer and the jury filed out.

“That was awfully fast.” Loyal’s voice made August sit up straight again.

He looked at her, wondering if he only had a few more chances to memorize her face, or if he had years ahead of him. Gideon had left the courtroom, but August wished he would return so he could thank him for the testimony. He also wanted a word about Loyal’s future with her father, in case the worst happened.

She gripped his shoulder, reassuring him with her touch. He missed lying beside her at night, talking to her and the baby, planning the next season’s crops, and making love with her.

“I didn’t know Papa was aware you stayed in the church that night. I would never have guessed he’d agree to speak for you so openly. Thank goodness he knew.”

“It might be some help,” August admitted. He worried anyway because of the evidence against him.

“Have faith. We’ll have you home before the sun is down.” She smiled so radiantly, he almost believed her.

* * * *

“We, the jury, find the defendant, August O’Dell, guilty of the cattle theft. We recommend the penalty of death by hanging.”

The floor dropped out from beneath August’s feet. He almost missed the chair as his knees buckled. Behind him, Loyal let out a sob.

Stine put his hand on August’s shoulder. “I’m truly sorry about this, August. I was sure your father-in-law’s testimony would outweigh the damage your youth caused.”

August looked up at him, unable to respond. His teeth ached as he clenched his jaw. This was it.

“August,” Loyal said.

He turned, still too shocked to speak. Gideon sat with Loyal, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Please take her home, Redfearn. She doesn’t need to be here.”

It took effort to get the words out. A deputy replaced the manacles and led him back to jail. August’s feet felt leaden, his body as stiff as one of the tall pines he’d helped bring down in the bootheel. Wooden and unfeeling. He hung his head as the deputy walked beside him, away from the courtroom where his dreams had shattered.

* * * *

Loyal stumbled as she carried a teacup to the washbasin. It fell from her hand and shattered on the floor, leaving a wet stain from the liquid that had been left in it, along with shards of china.

She looked down at the mess and numbly thought about leaving it. What was the point of cleaning it up if she might lose the house? The next occupants could clear it away. In the weeks August had been gone, she’d let the dishes pile up, left the laundry unwashed, and her garden go unweeded.

She was about to lose the man she loved. Nothing mattered. Loyal stared at the cup. The floor seemed impossibly far away. As far as August and the happiness she’d felt when he presented her with the cradle. The day after the trial, she’d gone to see him. Despite her weak reassurances, he only wanted to talk about settling things and making certain she knew he had money in the bank. All the money in the world didn’t matter. She just wanted him at home. Wanted to resume the life they’d enjoyed before Albert Carroll started pointing fingers. She relived the moment August had told her he’d loved her since they were children, wishing she had known sooner. They’d wasted so many years that they might have been happy together. Now they didn’t have the chance. Losing her fiancé had been difficult—losing the husband she loved was twice the burden.

She got down on her knees with a damp rag, gathered the china pieces and folded them into the cloth. Sorry scratched at the door. Because she’d been so lonely without August, she let the dog come inside whenever he pleased. With a groan, she stood, dumped the china shards in the waste bucket and went to the front door. A little dizzy, when she reached for the door, she bumped the hat hanging on the peg. Jeremiah’s hat.

It tumbled to the floor and landed on the crown. Sick and frustrated from running into things and of the limitations of her bulky new frame, she blew out a breath of air before letting the dog in. He sat at her feet, his tail thumping against the hat.

“One more thing falls from my hands, and I’m going back to bed, Sorry.” Perhaps forever. She bent again, pulling the hat up with her. Over time, she’d given away most of Jeremiah’s things, but she’d left his hat hanging where it always had.

Thinking of his easy smile, she wished he was here. Jeremiah would have thought of a way to get August out of jail. Except, if he was alive, she’d have married him. She’d never have gotten the opportunity to know August so well. Or fall in love with him.

Sorting through Jeremiah’s things hadn’t been easy. Thinking about giving August’s away made her heart hurt worse.

Running her hand around the inside of the crown, her fingers swept over a lump. Sometimes he’d kept notes inside the band. He told her keeping them so close to his head helped him remember. Pulling the band away from the felt, she fished the folded piece of paper out and rehung the hat.

The paper was stained and had clearly been in the hat for some time. She unfolded it with care, smoothing it against her palm. It was a bill of sale, the date almost worn away. Jeremiah’s and another signature were at the bottom. It stated that he’d sold twenty Hereford cattle. Loyal’s hand shook as she read the date. Her legs felt weak and she braced a hand against the wall.

November 12th, 1875
. It was faint, but she could just make it out. Her disbelief melted into anger. How dare he steal those cattle and sell them? He’d never had beef cattle on the land. He’d taken another man’s livestock, and now August was paying for his brother’s transgressions.

Disgust mixed with her anger. Jeremiah had set August up for the crime by stealing his hat and the horse he rode. All his talk about mending old hurts and asking August to come home was lies. She shuffled to the rolltop desk, pulled out the chair and sat, rubbing her forehead as she read the bill again.

Pulling the farm ledger from the drawer, she opened it. A few months ago, it had been filled with Jeremiah’s handwriting, although the most recent entries were August’s. She flipped to the first month he’d arrived, noting where he’d added money he’d saved to the standing bank account. She turned the pages back to the very first entry in Jeremiah’s rough scrawl. It matched the bill of sale amount to the last cent. The next entry was a down payment for the farm. Bile burned her throat. She’d never guessed Jeremiah might have been dishonest. He’d hidden his deception behind the smile she believed was for her and his pride in a job well done.

“Oh, Jeremiah, what did you do?” It would have been a natural mistake for Albert Carroll to think August had taken the cows if he saw Jeremiah. Their hair had been the same color, their builds very similar.

Her former fiancé’s betrayal curled around her heart. She’d believed he was one of the most honest men she knew. Papa had warned her that Jeremiah wasn’t a good person and she’d ignored his advice. What sort of man framed his brother while making off with another man’s livelihood?

August had no idea Jeremiah had framed him. She recalled the sorrow on his face when he admitted his regrets about not returning sooner. If he had, and Mr. Carroll had recognized him, would Jeremiah have admitted his crime, or let August suffer in his place?

Loyal rested her forehead in her palm, offering thanks to the heavens. This paper meant one thing. August was coming home.

* * * *

August closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the ceiling he’d stared at for a week. Outside, he heard hammers pounding gallows together. The noise made his head swim. From the wooden structure, he would take his last walk, his last look at Springfield, and the people who had condemned him. Clark Stine had been by with his condolences and listened as August dictated his will. He didn’t have much except money he’d saved from his time with the lumber company, his horse, tack, and clothing. A sad legacy for the child he already loved.

“O’Dell. Visitors.”

August thought about remaining where he was. What was the point in getting up? He could lay on this uncomfortable wooden slab until the executioner came for him. The only words he wanted to hear were, “you’re free.” The chances of that happening were nonexistent.

“August?”

He lifted his head at Loyal’s voice. Stine stood beyond the bars, but Loyal came through them first, a smile on her face. Not a forced smile or one containing impossible hope.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart? You shouldn’t have made the trip. You need to rest.” Seeing her would only make saying his final good-bye harder. Stine had given Gideon a letter asking the preacher to make sure Loyal stayed away the day of the hanging.

“We’re getting you out. I’ve found something that proves you’re innocent.” She sat beside him and kissed his cheek despite the beard covering it.

It took a moment for her words to sink in. “What?”

Her smile faded. For a moment, he wasn’t sure she was going to tell him, then she took his hand and a deep breath.

“Jeremiah had a receipt in his hat. I never thought about looking there, but it fell off the peg and there it was. I imagine he didn’t intend anyone to find it. When I picked the hat up, I felt something strange inside the band. No, it wasn’t an accident it fell. It was a miracle.”

“A receipt? For what?” Puzzled, he held her at arms’ length. Her face was radiant even without the smile. Clearly she believed he’d be a free man. He couldn’t risk an ounce of hope. Judge Geiger’s sentence still echoed in his head.

“Mr. Carroll’s livestock,” Stine answered. “It’s the proof we need to clear your name. We’ll take it in front of the judge when he returns Monday, and you’ll be free.”

August almost choked. He was dreaming, the way he had most nights—a doomed man’s fantasy. Suppose Judge Geiger thought the receipt was a forgery? Or that Loyal had made a mistake. Unlikely as it seemed, it was possible Jeremiah had purchased the cattle elsewhere and sold them. Dizzy from the revelation, he drew in a deep breath.

“Where would he get the receipt? He didn’t…you’re not accusing him of stealing the cattle?”

Loyal smoothed his hair back. “The receipt is real. I know it’s hard to believe Jeremiah would do anything so devious, but there’s no other explanation. You know he didn’t own cattle. Mr. Stine talked to the bank owner. He wouldn’t lend the money unless Jeremiah could come up with a down payment. Remember how surly he was in the fall? He was so focused on finding ways to buy the farm we could barely talk to him. Mr. Carroll had purchased the Herefords in the spring, and he told everyone how much they were worth. I think, because he was angry with you, that he saw an opportunity to make the money he needed and use your reputation at the same time.”

“That’s impossible. He asked me to come back a dozen times if he asked once. He’d have known I’d be arrested if Carroll found out I was back.” Numbness spread throughout his body. “We always looked out for one another. He wouldn’t have set me up.”

“I’ve seen his signature too many times not be certain about it. Mr. Stine has the receipt locked in his safe until you go before the judge again. Believe me, you’re coming home.” Loyal clutched his hand. “This time Tuesday morning, you’ll be eating breakfast in the kitchen.”

Home, a place built by money stolen from another man. August didn’t want to believe it, but disbelieving meant they had no proof to set him free. His mind reeled.

“It’s alright, August.” Loyal hugged him and he rested his head on top of hers. “I know it’s a lot to take in. You loved him.”

“He lied so he could purchase land. I can’t think—why would he do that?” His voice sounded hollow in his ears. Bitterness lanced through him, stabbing his heart. The brother he’d loved, the man he thought he knew so well had betrayed him for money. Jeremiah was no better than their father, who stole and lied every day of his miserable life.

“We may never know the real answer. It’s enough for me that you’re coming home.” She twined her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Cool fingers soothed his hot flesh, although her touch did little to ease his anger. A jolt of realization hit him. He pulled away from her embrace. “What if I hadn’t gone?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. Sorrow etched across her face. They both knew if he’d stayed, he would have been tried and hanged years ago for the crime. His brother wouldn’t have revealed the truth, not after going out of his way to frame August. Not if he meant to keep Loyal’s love.

“I asked myself the same thing. There’s no explanation. I’m sorry for Mr. Carroll because everyone says he’s had terrible luck since the cattle were stolen, but I’m so happy your name is clear.”

“Did you suspect? You said you were uncertain about marrying him. Did it have anything to do with this?” He wasn’t sure he could stand hearing it if she had.