In two days, Tamsin was in the Sweetwater jail and found herself the object of great speculation by the residents of the town. Two ministers, the widow Fremont who ran the boardinghouse, three members of the Methodist Women's Society, a prominent shopkeeper, and Rabbit Hawkins, the town drunk, had all found excuses to come into the jail and stare at her.
Ash, Dimitri, and Helen had followed the sheriff and prisoner to Sweetwater. Ash rode Shiloh and tied Tamsin's horses and the Appaloosa behind Dimitri's carriage.
By the first afternoon, Ash had found a private barn to shelter the livestock and paid a visit to Shelly at Maudine's Social Club.
The black-haired lass welcomed him with open arms, if a little sleepily. "It's good to see you, Ash," she said, covering a dainty yawn with her hand. "Come in, but be quiet. Maudine's still sleeping."
He followed her down the shadowy hall and into a handsome parlor furnished with velvet-covered settees and thick, rich drapes closed tightly to keep out the sunshine.
The bawdy house was just coming alive. From the kitchen, Ash could smell baking bread and hear the soft laughter of the black cook. A calico cat curled around his leg, and Shelly scooped it up in her arms.
"You know you've got no business in this room, Silky," she cooed. She rubbed her artificially red cheek against the cat's fur and threw Ash a saucy look. "Still cold in the mountains? Heard you tracked down that back-shooting woman that murdered Sam."
Shelly was barely dressed, her voluptuous figure adorned with lacy drawers, black stockings, and a corset beneath her dragon-red Chinese robe. The scent of jasmine clung to her hair and silk wrapper.
She opened a sliding door to another room and pushed the cat in. "Polly," she called softly. "Come get Silky. Maudine warned you about letting him in the front parlor." Then she turned to Ash with a professional smile. "I suppose you'll be wanting a bath."
"And a little of your time, darlin'."
"Official time, or friendly time?"
He passed her a handful of silver dollars. "I'd like to talk to you, just talk, nothin' more. I need some answers, about an old customer of yours."
"Wouldn't be Sam Steele, would it?"
"And Edwards at the livery."
Shelly glanced over her shoulder to see if they were alone. "Sam was a regular, but you know we don't talk about gentlemen friends. Edwards never came here. He likes his pleasure cheap."
"You don't discuss business. I know that. What I want to hear is gossip. There isn't much that goes on in Sweet-water that Maudine's ladies don't know."
"Isn't that the truth?"
Ash turned toward the new voice. Maudine LaFrance was standing in the doorway that led to the entrance hall. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said. "I was just-"
"Looking to get me and my girls in trouble?" Maudine was barely five feet tall, somewhere between fifty and eighty, with the complexion of an English dairymaid and the eyes of a tiger. Once stunning, she was now, in Ash's eyes, merely elegant. Her voice for all her air of authority was surprisingly high and girlish.
"You know me better than that, Mrs. LaFrance." He flashed her what he hoped was an endearing grin. "I'm trying to help a lady out of a bad spot. I need information, and I'm willing to-"
Maudine waved her hand. "No, Mr. Morgan. It's not necessary to mention an amount. I know you'll be more than generous. But you must understand that anything you learn here must never reflect on me or my ladies."
"No, ma'am, it won't," he promised.
"And none of us will testify in a court of law. You do understand that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Maudine smiled. "Then I see no problem." She looked at Shelly. "Take Mr. Morgan to the bathing room and give him whatever he requires."
"That's what I like about you, Mrs. LaFrance," Ash replied. "You're a sensible woman."
"Save your compliments for Shelly." Maudine paused, touching her cheek lightly with one painted fingernail. "And, after your bath, leave your cash donation in the blue ginger jar in the front hall on your way out."
Later, Ash visited Tamsin at the jail. "I won't be here in the morning," he said. "I have some things I have to do, but don't worry, I'll be back by evening."
"What things? Does it have anything to do with Jack Cannon?" she asked.
"No, it doesn't. It has to do with clearing you. Trust me, Tamsin. You're not getting rid of me so easily."
She'd passed a sleepless night in the bare cell and was still bleary eyed when Dimitri appeared early in the morning.
In one hand the dapper lawyer carried his black leather briefcase. Under the other arm he balanced a tray with a teapot, cups, sugar, cream, and hot cinnamon scones.
"I thought perhaps a decent cup of tea would cheer you up. Lemon wasn't available. I hope you like milk."
"It's fine, thank you. I don't understand why you're doing all this for me," Tamsin said as Dimitri set the tea tray on the wooden stool in her cell and removed several hard-boiled eggs from his pocket. "You don't know me. You don't know if I'm lying about the murder. You have no reason to trust me, yet you've left your home and other clients to come here and concentrate on my case." She chuckled. "And you've brought breakfast."
Pleasantly embarrassed, Dimitri tugged at his high collar and cleared his throat. His black coat and waistcoat were immaculate, his white shirt was starched, his trousers bore a knife-edge crease, and his shoes were shiny enough for Tamsin to see her reflection.
He looked totally out of place in this dingy jail cell that smelled of stale urine and despair. Yet, he managed to appear undaunted by the bleak surroundings.
"Ashton trusts you," he said. "I've never known him to be wrong about a person's character." He smiled. "And I do have some aptitude in that area myself. I'm convinced you're not a murderess."
"Even believing in my innocence, you're going beyond your duty as my lawyer. Not that I don't appreciate it. I do, it's just that I don't have any money to-"
"You must not be concerned with finances. Ashton has generously guaranteed all my expenses. He offered to pay my fee, but I'll accept none from him, ever." Dimitri gestured grandly. "Ashton saved my wife's life. That's how we met him. My dearest Helen was coming west from Baltimore to join me. She and Ashton were on the same train traveling through Missouri when it was attacked by Confederate sympathizers."
"During the war?"
"Yes." Dimitri nodded. "Yes, in '62. When the rebels entered the car, demanded all the passengers' valuables, and began shooting, Ashton threw himself over my wife and took a bullet to protect her. Wounded, he killed two of the marauders and drove off the others. Neither of us will ever forget that gallant deed." He chuckled. "Besides, Ashton plays a tolerable game of chess. And you have no idea how difficult it is to find a decent opponent west of Baltimore."
"Ash is a good man, isn't he?"
"The best," Dimitri agreed. "Smart, absolutely fearless, and honest to the bone. He should have taken up the study of law. He'd have made a fine judge." He smiled, revealing a silver filling in an eyetooth. "I'm not blind, Mrs. MacGreggor. It's clear what the relationship is between the two of you. And you needn't fear; Ashton has none but the most honorable intentions toward you. I'm certain of it."
"I wish I had your faith." Tamsin rose to pace nervously. "Have you spoken with Henry Steele?"
"Yes, I have. He's quite adamant about what he found in the barn. He'll be a good witness for the prosecution. I always advise my clients to avoid being found standing over a body whenever possible." Dimitri chuckled at his bit of humor and adjusted the knot of his perfectly tied cravat.
Tamsin nibbled her lower lip and studied the little man. Had she seen Dimitri Zajicek on the street, she would have passed him without suspecting that beneath that graying cap of hair, with its center part and heavy layer of Acme Hair Oil, nestled a steel-trap mind. Strange that two such different men as he and Ash should have developed such an obvious respect for each other.
She smiled. So Ash played a good game of chess, did he? He was full of surprises. If she survived the rope and Ash his outlaws, she'd have to challenge him to a match. Her grandfather had taught her chess when she was eight, and it had been a passion ever since.
"A trial date has been set," Dimitri announced, pulling her back to her present situation. "Monday, a week."
"You can't let Henry Steele preside," she replied. "I'm certain that he killed his own brother. What other reason could he possibly have for being in that barn that late at night? I heard Sam order him off the ranch that day. They were furious with each other. Apparently it wasn't enough for Henry to covet his brother's wife. He must have hated Sam enough to shoot him in the back."
"Henry Steele cannot judge this case. It's illegal and impossible. Leave that to me. But if you hope to cast suspicion on a judge, we must have more evidence than his being there," Dimitri reminded her. "You were there, and you're innocent. It could have been a third party who committed the crime. A disgruntled employee? A passing horse thief?"
"If it was, then there were two of us there to steal horses that night." She shook her head. "It makes no sense. Unless Sam Steele was the horse thief. Someone took Dancer and Fancy from the livery stable the night before, and they weren't the first horses to go missing in this town according to the boy who mucks up for the hostler."
"You mentioned the lad before." Dimitri whipped out a pencil and a small leather-bound notebook. "Give me his name and his exact words."
"I'm not sure of his name, but he was about fourteen with olive skin and black hair. He said, 'Sam Steele trades in horses. Some people say he's not particular whose they are.' "
"You're certain that's what he said?"
"Yes. And you should question Mr. Edwards, the livery stable owner. He seemed a dishonest sort to me. Either he sold my horses to Sam, or they were in league with each other. Sam insisted he had bills of sale for both animals, but I didn't see them. They could have been false."
"Or the papers never existed," Dimitri suggested. "I'll put bills of sale at the top of my questions for the widow Steele. If there are such papers, she should be able to produce them."
"If Sam Steele's widow, Sarah, I believe I heard him call her, was behaving improperly with the judge-"
"Then she may be a hostile witness as well," the lawyer finished. He pursed his lips. "Leave Mrs. Steele to me, Mrs. MacGreggor. I've questioned deceitful witnesses on the stand before." He moistened the pencil point with the tip of his tongue. "Can you remember anyone, other than this Mr. Edwards, who saw you ride into town with your horses?"
She shook her head. "There may have been a cowboy outside the feed and grain store." She nodded. "There was, but he mounted up and rode out. I don't think he ever looked in my direction, so I couldn't give you a description."
"Very well. Let me follow up these leads. You're not to worry, Mrs. MacGreggor. Criminal law is my favorite aspect of the justice system. I'll do my best for you and Ashton. I promise you that."
"And you won't let Henry Steele preside over my case?"
"If he tries it, we'll scream loud enough to bring the governor running."
"Just as long as he runs fast enough to get here before I go to the gallows."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"Amen to those words."
Dimitri finished his cup of tea and departed, leaving Tamsin alone in her cell until noon, when Helen Zajicek appeared with a basket lunch. She took one look at the plate of beans and the dry biscuit that the deputy, Joel Long, had provided and shook her head in disgust.
"I wouldn't feed that to a dog."
"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I'm really not hungry," Tamsin protested as Helen began to unpack her hamper.
"Tish, tish. You need to eat to keep up your strength. You must not become downhearted. Have faith in Mr. Zajicek. He is an excellent barrister, and he will stop at nothing to provide you with the best defense."
"I'm sure he will," Tamsin replied. But her real faith lay in Ash. She kept hoping he'd relent, break her out of jail, and force Henry Steele to confess he'd committed the murder.
Helen leaned close and whispered, "Mr. Zajicek wrote down everything you told him about…" The plump woman stopped and silently mouthed Sarah Steele and Judge Steele. "He intends to question the widow Steele at great length."
"Thank your husband for me," Tamsin answered. "Thank you for everything. I don't know what I'd have done without you."
Helen smiled. "Stuff and nonsense, Mrs. MacGreggor. You would have done what you've done all along. Any woman who can survive being captured by hostile natives is strong enough to face a jury."
"Time's up," Long called.
Helen murmured a few words of consolation and let the curtain fall across the cell door. Tamsin heard the woman's footsteps recede and a brief exchange as Helen passed through the outer office.
Despite the smell of chicken drifting from the basket, Tamsin left the food untouched and sat on the metal bunk along the far wall. Outside the window, boys threw stones and shouted catcalls. She ignored them as well. Both her stomach and her mind were uneasy.
Ash had told her that he wasn't going after Texas Jack, but that didn't keep her from imagining Ash wounded and bleeding along some lonesome trail, or worse, lying dead. Images of Shiloh trotting into sight with an empty, blood-soaked saddle formed in the back of her mind and made her crazy.
Dimitri's statement haunted her: "Ashton has honorable intentions toward you."
Ash hadn't promised her anything beyond what they'd had. She couldn't expect more than his friendship. Certainly not marriage. If he'd wanted things to be different, he would have said so by now, wouldn't he?
If she got out of this mess, she would have to go on to California alone. Doing that would be hard, but not impossible. What she couldn't face were her fears of never hearing his deep voice or seeing his wicked grin again.
Hours passed. Night fell, and the moon rose.
Ash promised me he'd be back, Tamsin thought as she paced the cell. He wouldn't break his word. But he had when he left her at Jacob's cabin. Why would this time be different?
Then she heard the sound of a horse and ran to the window. She pushed the toe of her shoe into the cracked plaster and pulled herself up to peer out through the bars.
A single rider waited there, a tall figure in a plainsman's hat.
"Ash?"
"Who else were you expectin'?" He chuckled. "Sorry I'm late, darlin', but I've been talking to that cowboy you told me was fired from the Lazy S, Broom Talbot."
"You found him?"
"Workin' on a spread east of here. He pretty much backed up your story of what happened that day. He said he threatened Sam but he wouldn't have killed him."
"See? It happened just like I told you."
"I tried to ask Henry Steele, but he won't talk to me. Either he's protecting himself or his brother's wife."
"Widow."
"Yeah, widow."
Tamsin's fingers ached from holding on to the plaster. "Can you come inside?"
"Not until morning. The office is locked tight as a drum. Joel Long is the deputy on guard duty, but he's probably asleep."
"Oh." She wanted to touch Ash… to have him hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. She would have traded this cell for a mountain campsite, Indians, cougars, and all.
"I brought you something," he said.
She peered through the shadows, but it was impossible to see more than his silhouette. "A hacksaw?"
He laughed softly.
She heard Shiloh take a few quick steps, and then flowers rained around her face. Surprised, she dropped down to the floor and sat there.
"Tamsin?"
"Yes?"
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"What's wrong?"
"You brought me flowers?"
"Fireweed and candytuft."
She swallowed, trying not to cry, as she picked up the scattered wildflowers.
"What's wrong, Tamsin?"
"Nothing." Tears stained her face.
I love him, she thought. I really love him.
"Don't you like them?"
"I can't see them. It's dark."
"The fireweed is about the color of your hair." His voice was husky, full of emotion. "Candytuft has a yellow center with white petals."
"Thank you." She gathered them against her breast.
"We're going to get you free," he said. "One way or another, Tamsin. You're not going to hang."
"That's what my lawyer tells me."
"He's a good man, darlin'."
"He said the same about you."
"Well, I'd best get Shiloh to the stable. He's had a long ride. I'll check on Dancer and Fancy for you."
"You didn't put them in Edwards's barn? After what happened before?"
He laughed. "No, I didn't leave them there. Good night, woman."
"Good night, Ash." She waited for him to say the words she wanted to hear more than anything. And when he didn't, she did. "I love you."
He didn't answer.
"I love you," she called again. She pulled herself up and looked out onto an empty alleyway. "Oh, Ash," she murmured. Then she dropped to the floor and gathered her flowers again, watering them with her own abundant tears.