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  “A few days ago with Sydney. I had returned from being gone a couple months, and Syd had ridden in from San Francisco. We just happened to arrive at the cabin the same day.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Syd is convinced she’s guilty. What I saw at the cabin convinced me otherwise.”

  Fielder shifted his gaze between the two men. “We’ll be there. Afterwards, I plan to meet with Miss King and would appreciate it if Joel was there.”

  “I’ll be there as well.” Brodie didn’t know why he volunteered, other than needing to learn the extent of the relationship between Joel and Maggie.

  “Very well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have business to attend to before returning home.” Fielder glanced at Ewan. “Next time you’re in town, stop by and see me. I’d like to discuss a business idea with you, and Ian, if he’s available.”

  “Of course, August.” Ewan’s gaze followed the two men as they walked outside, wondering what August wanted to discuss. “The man’s mind never rests,” he muttered, loud enough for Brodie to hear.

  “Aye. He has more energy than two men his age.” Brodie returned to his chair as their desserts were served, noticing his father still watching after Fielder. “The man has so many interests, Da, it’s hard to tell what’s on his mind. My guess is it has something to do with his cattle business.”

  “Perhaps.” Ewan sat down, leaning his arms on the table as his gaze narrowed on Brodie. “Now, tell me about your feelings for Miss King.”

  Leaning forward, arms resting on his thighs, Brodie sat in a chair next to the bed where Maggie slept. He’d been there since saying goodbye to this father a couple hours earlier, fighting the urge to reach out and take her hand in his.

  She’d come out of the coma, but continued to lapse into sleep, sometimes lasting hours. At times, her body jerked in spasms, her breathing short and labored. Other times her face softened, Brodie getting a glimpse of what she would have looked like as a girl of fourteen or fifteen, well before Stoddard had gotten his claws on her. Waves of anger coursed through Brodie’s body when he thought of what Arnie had done to her. For an instant, he wondered if Syd or Joel had ever touched her. The thought produced a hard ball of ice in Brodie’s stomach.

  “If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll get some rest.”

  Brodie’s head jerked up. So lost in his own thoughts, he’d forgotten about Vickery sitting in a chair across the room. Clearing his throat, he stood.

  “You go ahead, Doc. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  Vickery took one more look at Maggie, checking her breathing, broken arm, and state of her bruising, then glanced up at Brodie. “I expect her to have a hard night. Gwen will be here before dawn to relieve you.”

  “Sam told me you offered her a job. That was good of you.”

  Vickery chuckled. “The offer was more self-serving than you know. I’m desperate for help. Conviction has grown well beyond what one doctor can handle. I’ve sent for an associate from back east. A man I used to work with for a while during the war. If all goes well, he’ll be here within the month, along with his wife and child. Gwen will be helping both of us.” Although the air in the room wasn’t hot, he swiped an arm across his forehead. “She deserves better than working at Buckie’s. It would be different if she chose to stay, enjoyed the life, but she doesn’t. We’ll be helping each other.”

  Other than a brief smile and a nod, Brodie had no words to offer.

  “I’ll see you in the morning. Let Gwen know to come and fetch me if anything happens before I return.”

  “Goodnight, Doc.” He waited until the door closed, then sat back down, taking hold of Maggie’s hand. He couldn’t hold back a groan at the feel of her skin, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and whisper she had nothing to worry about. Instead, he pulled the chair up as close as possible and tightened his grip.

  “I’d never say this in the light of day, lass, telling you how beautiful you are or how much I’d like to see you free.” He reached up with his other hand, brushing strands of hair off her face, feeling the slight warmth of her skin. “You truly are a bonny lass, Maggie King. When this is over, I intend to be here for you in any way you want. You deserve your life back, and I want to be the man to help you discover it.”

  Brodie’s voice cracked. A month ago, he never would’ve thought his emotions would be tangled up so much with one woman. He’d have laughed at anyone who suggested he’d be tied in knots over a woman accused of murder. It had taken his da all of five minutes to figure out the extent of his feelings for Maggie. Denying it would’ve achieved nothing. He’d never been a good liar.

  “When this is over, we’ll take a trip. Maybe on a steamboat down the Feather River to Sacramento. Or go to San Francisco. Would you like that, Maggie? We’d visit the ocean and stay at one of the grand hotels. I’d tuck your arm through mine, letting every man we see know you’re taken.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he scrubbed a hand down his face and took a shaky breath. “There are so many places I want to share with you, Maggie. So many…” Yawning, he placed his left arm on the bed, letting his forehead rest against it as he continued to hold her hand. “A few more weeks, lass, and you’ll be able to make any choice you want. I hope it will be me…” His voice trailed off as his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

  Hearing his deep breathing, Maggie slowly opened her eyes, her chest tightening. Turning, she looked at the locks of thick black hair falling across his face, wishing she could touch it, let her fingers slip through the silky strands. With one arm pinned to her side, her other hand locked with his, all Maggie could do was stare.

  Brodie’s words couldn’t be true, she thought. They’d known each other such a short time, and under horrible circumstances. He was a lawman, she his prisoner. Nothing good could come of relying on his words or wishes. Exhaustion, guilt over the accident, concern for her recovery—anything could have prompted his declarations. In the light of day, he’d reconsider, glad she’d been asleep when he spoke of dreams and promises.

  Of course, she wasn’t asleep. His deep voice, still marked with a caressing Scottish lilt, had woken her from a particularly vivid dream. An uncommonly peaceful one in which he’d played a prominent role. Maggie’s first thought had been how real and close his voice sounded as he spoke with Doc Vickery. She’d kept quiet, believing sleep would claim her again within minutes. Instead, she’d felt the warmth of his hand taking hers. It had taken all her willpower to remain still and allow his words to wash over her. No man had ever spoken to her as if she were important, worth caring about.

  Looking at the man as he slept, she let one lone tear escape, creating a trail down her cheek to her jaw. Again, she was powerless to swipe it away. If only his words were true. The girl who still lived within her prayed they were. The beaten woman who controlled her spirit cautioned her to keep a lock on her emotions and accept reality. Dreams were for girls—not Maggie. She’d left that innocence behind a long time ago. For now, the woman in her won.

  The trip to the cabin crept by, slowed by thick fog and a light drizzle. Even with Joel acting as their guide, they’d made a wrong turn twice, forcing them to backtrack.

  Brodie thought the early start would prove to be in their favor. He’d woken in the doctor’s office with a start, reaching for his gun before hearing Maggie’s soft breathing and a door open as Doc Vickery walked inside. Brodie had taken one more look at Maggie before leaving to meet Fielder and Stoddard. He’d hoped to be back in town before noon. Now it appeared they’d be on the mountain a good part of the day.

  “Up ahead.” Joel picked up his pace, heading for a vague outline still shrouded in fog.

  “Wonderful, Joel. Now we can get down to business.” Fielder dismounted, walking straight inside the cabin, then waited for Brodie. “Explain to me what you and Colin found when you brought Miss King here, then the second time when you came alone.”

  Brodie went through each visit in detail, leaving nothing out. Fie
lder stopped him several times to clarify a point or ask a question, then motioned for Brodie to continue. They ended outside next to the all but vanished shallow grave. It hadn’t taken long for the elements to erase the spot where Arnie Stoddard had been hastily buried.

  “Do you have anything to add, Joel?” Fielder asked, continuing to glance around as he considered what Brodie said.

  “No, sir. I believe the sheriff and I have the exact same opinion on what happened and agree Maggie could not have committed the murder. One question remains, though. If not Maggie, then who?”

  Fielder looked at Brodie. “Did you find anything to suspect someone else of riding in, killing Stoddard, then riding out?”

  “Nothing. Colin and I found numerous hoofprints, which didn’t prove anything. Finding Miss King’s tracks proved easier since she was on foot.”

  Fielder paced around the outside one more time before circling back to the front of the cabin and going inside. He spent a few more minutes satisfying himself they’d learned all they could before joining Brodie and Joel next to their horses.

  “I must agree with you, gentlemen. Assuming Doc Vickery’s right that the blow to the back of the head didn’t kill Stoddard, I don’t see any way Miss King could have murdered him. I believe she knocked him out, left, then someone else came along and took the opportunity to finish the job, carry him outside, and bury him.” Fielder rubbed his chin, then dropped his arm to his side. “I can lay out a good case and hope it’s enough to convince a jury of her innocence. The only way to be certain she’s found not guilty is to find the person responsible.”

  Brodie had said the same to himself several times over the last few days. He seldom held doubts about his abilities. Knowing the outcome of Maggie’s trial might very well rest on his shoulders, he hoped his skills and experience would be enough. He’d never imagined he’d be facing such a difficult situation within weeks of taking the job as sheriff. And never had he felt such a strong sense of imminent disaster.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Syd Stoddard’s drunk and letting everyone at Buckie’s know how he feels about Miss King getting a trial.” Sam slipped his thumbs into the pockets of his vest, staring out the jail’s front window, watching the evening crowd grow at the saloon across the street.

  Brodie walked up beside him, shaking his head at people who’d even consider the opinion of Stoddard worth their time. “How are they reacting?” Turning from the window, he stalked back to his desk and sat down.

  “As you’d expect.” Sam turned toward Brodie, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms. “Most ignore him, others listen, then go back to what they were doing. A few sympathize. I’m afraid it won’t take much to push the rest to his way of thinking.”

  “It’s at least another week before the judge gets here. He could stir up a lot of people by then.” Brodie dragged a hand down his face, his mind on Maggie.

  “Wasn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

  “A change in plans. Seems a group of outlaws decided to rob the bank the same day the judge arrived in Yubaville.”

  Sam chuckled. “Seems there’s no end to the number of men who have more grit than brains.”

  “I don’t know if it’s grit. My da would call them eejits for having no brains at all. Regardless, the judge must now stay longer in Yubaville. At least it gives Fielder more time to prepare.”

  “Morning.” Jack walked inside, stomping his boots on the wooden floor to loosen the dried dirt, then looked up at Brodie. “We got a situation on the River Belle. You might want to come see.”

  Smiling, Brodie stood and grabbed his hat. “Did the captain refuse to pay the ladies again?”

  The River Belle had become well-known for offering gambling, music, and the services of ladies the captain hand-selected to provide private entertainment for male passengers. Several weeks before, he had a riot on his hands after distributing the wages, shorting the women a significant amount. It had taken Brodie an hour to sort out the mess, obtaining a promise from the captain to either live up to his agreement with the ladies or risk suspension of his docking privileges in Conviction.

  “Nope. Seems one of the passengers got into a fight with a few men holding sympathies for the South.”

  California had sided with the North in the current war. Although thousands of miles from a majority of the conflicts, the state had become a significant contributor of both money and men to the Union. Few in the region openly voiced their support of Lee’s army.

  “If that’s all it is, Jack, arrest the ones who jumped him and get Doc Vickery down there to see to the man.” Brodie placed his hat back on the hook and sat down.

  “He’s not the one who needs the doc, Sheriff.”

  Sam’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “I believe I’d like to see this.”

  “You and Jack go ahead. I’m heading over to the clinic to check on our prisoner.”

  Sam and Jack cast quick glances at each other, saying nothing as they walked out.

  “How’s she doing?” Brodie pulled off his hat, fingering the brim as he watched Vickery lean over Maggie.

  The doctor glanced up, his red-rimmed eyes reflecting the long days and nights he’d been working. “Come over here and see for yourself.”

  Taking the few steps to the edge of the bed, Brodie’s eyes met Maggie’s for a brief moment before her expression fell and she glanced away. He could understand how much she must hate him. She’d been so close to getting away, leaving her past behind and reclaiming her life. He’d stepped in, causing her massive physical pain, as well as an uncertain future. Brodie knew he had no right to harbor such strong feelings for her, lying awake at night, wondering why he couldn’t cut her from his thoughts.

  “How long before I can move her to the jail?”

  The already stern look on the doctor’s face hardened, his mouth drawing into a thin line. “You know my feelings about having her back at the jail.”

  “You and everyone else feels the same, but I’ve no choice in the matter. She’ll be on trial for murder soon, and she’s already tried to escape once. I can’t allow her to try again.”

  “Have you no eyes?”

  Brodie startled at the rare moment of anger in the doctor’s voice.

  “The woman is battered and bruised with a broken arm, swollen legs and ankles, and a gash on her head still causing blinding headaches. She needs to stay someplace she can be tended to until her wounds heal. Unfortunately, I must keep beds ready for others who need my care. Moving her to the hard cot in the cold jail will do her no good at all.”

  Letting his gaze rake over her, he stopped to stare at the lone tear traveling down her cheek, her eyes closed tight, still refusing to acknowledge his presence.

  “What of Gwen? Has she decided to leave Buckie’s?”

  Straightening, Vickery grabbed a towel and wiped his hands, a look of exhaustion passing over his face. “Yes. She starts tomorrow, for which I’m quite grateful.” Lowering himself into a nearby chair, he sat back. “If you insist on keeping Miss King at the jail, Gwen might have time to stop by or sit with her if no one is there, although I can’t make any promises.”

  “Whatever Gwen could do would be welcome. If you don’t mind, I’d like a few minutes alone with Miss King.”

  Vickery stood, tossing the towel on a nearby table. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be in the back.”

  Waiting until the doctor shut the door behind him, Brodie pulled up a chair, but didn’t sit. Instead, he focused on her slender form, the way her body shivered beneath the thin blanket. Before he could second-guess his actions, Brodie laid a hand on her shoulder, stroking it down her arm to her wrist, then repeating the motion until she began to relax.

  “Please, don’t.”

  He almost missed her soft plea.

  “I won’t hurt you, Maggie.”

  She shifted toward him, her eyes sparking. “You’ve already hurt me. I came to you for help, but…” She choked back whatever
else she was about to say, trying to turn away before a strong hand held her in place.

  “Can’t you understand I’ve no choice?”

  She swallowed the tight knot of fear that had become a part of her. The last two years had proven how alone and abandoned she’d become. Joel had helped when he could, but other than his small kindness, she’d received nothing from men except pain and betrayal. No matter what Brodie had said when he thought she’d slept, his words were nothing more than water pitching off a cliff, crashing upon the rocks below.

  Shaking her head, she refused to listen, not accepting that choices didn’t exist.

  “We all have choices, Sheriff. I could’ve kept running past Conviction until I found a safe place to hide. No one except Joel and Syd knew about me. I could’ve disappeared, found my way to San Francisco.” Pausing, she sucked in a shaky breath. “I hear jobs are plentiful there.”

  “Aye, if you want to work in a brothel, lass.” His words were barely above a whisper. He could see her body tense under the blanket.

  “I suppose most people would believe that’s all I’m suited for now. There was a time I had dreams, imagining a bright future, falling in love, having children. Now…” Her voice cracked. Clutching the blanket between her fingers, she turned away, closing him off.

  “Maggie, lass, you must listen to me.” Once again, he settled his hand on her shoulder, hoping she didn’t shake him off. When she stayed still, he continued. “Not one of us who’s heard your story believes you killed Arnie.”

  She turned back toward him, her brows knitting together in a frown, waiting for Brodie to continue.

  “It’s the reason August Fielder took your case. It’s the reason Joel Stoddard is helping him.”

  At this, her eyes widened.

  “Joel?”