A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (41 page)

“This coffee is God awful. I hate it when Mary’s away.”

“Rosa’s coffee is even better than your wife’s. You could ask her to send you a pot instead of drinking the slop you make.”

“I asked.” Frank grumped into his cup. “She’s mad at me for locking you up.”

Ross chuckled. “She had cinnamon buns rising last night. Didn’t need water for the whetstone, I was drooling so hard at the smell. They should be done by now.”

Frank’s belly growled. “You, Ross MacDougal, are an evil, evil man.” He scrunched up his face and downed the last of the black sludge. “But you didn’t shoot anyone last night.”

“Then you’ll let me go?”

“Nope.”

“Why the hell not?”

Frank carefully set the cup on his desk. He aligned it with the edge. He looked up at Ross.

“Because, my young friend, I want to keep you alive.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Frank laughed. “I hear you’re angry with your wife for saying the same thing.” He laughed harder at Ross’s stubborn expression. “The Vigilantes hanged a couple men for little more than looking sideways at them, and they were all white. If I let you out the way you are now, you’ll go looking for whoever killed those two. You’ll step on some toes, and next thing I know, I’ll have all the MacDougals and Elliotts on my ass for letting you out.”

“Gil told you to lock me up?” He grabbed the bars, his fingers wrapped tight.

“Didn’t say that.”

“You’re not denying it, either.”

“Nothing to deny.”

Ross stilled, as he had just before he went berserk on them. Frank automatically rested his hand on his holster.

“You planning to put me on trial, Sheriff? Have a jury of single white men say I need to hang for marrying one of their women?”

“Nope. I’ll conduct an investigation. I’ll question the whole town, sum everything up, and tell it like it is.”

Ross leaned a shoulder against a somewhat cleaner section of the wall.

“You won’t find the killer.”

“Don’t need to, if I can make enough doubt and give enough evidence to prove you didn’t shoot anyone that night.” Frank nodded. “The man behind this hired someone. Someone Tav and Zeb knew and trusted. That fight at Baldy’s was a setup to get Charlie away so the shooter could walk in. I figure he let them think he was going to bust them out. He shot Zeb to stop him talking. He shot Tav for being such a damn fool, kidnapping your wife, and drawing attention.”

“They knew I saw them kill my cousin.”

Frank nodded. “If you’re lucky, Tav and Zeb didn’t say boo about that little girl’s death. You’re going to have to watch your back even harder in case they did. Whoever’s behind this has power and wants all the ends cleaned up. He wants you dead, any way he can. If he can get others to kill you for him, without his name coming into it, so much the better. A roping party with you as the main guest would work just fine.”

“Trace survived a roping.” Ross winced and rubbed his neck.

“You won’t. And that’s why I can’t let you out.”

Chapter Forty

Ross lay on the new box bed in the corner of the jail. As Paddy was Billy’s father and known to them, he’d made it six-foot-six by thirty inches, almost wide enough for his shoulders. There was no padding, but Ross hadn’t had any on Rosa’s kitchen floor, either. It didn’t matter much when he was stone drunk, though. Hungover was another story.

Frank, feet up on his desk and head back, snored. Ross winced. The man was too old for this crap. He should be off with his wife, visiting his grandkids, not keeping an innocent man in jail. For his own good—ha!

The door to the street opened an inch. Ross lay still, feigning sleep. He heard Frank’s snore catch for a moment before beginning again. A silver blade slid through the crack. A long, wide blade. It disappeared again. The crack opened to a few inches.

“Did you have to bring that pig-sticker with you?” Ross feigned disgust.

“I’m here to protect ye, lad.”

The door swung wide open. The jail faced north, but the sun was bright enough that light streamed in. Gillis, dressed in full Highland splendor, swept in.

“Christ, did you have to wear the bonnet as well?”

Gil, grinning like a cat in an ocean of cream, held up one arm, fingers pinched as if to do a sword dance, and made a slow circle. Ross groaned again. MacDougal tartan from bonnet to socks. There was no bell heather anywhere near, but he’d found a small, red flower to tuck in his clan badge instead.

“They willnae kill ye with me here.” Gillis lifted the sword like an avenging angel.

Ross held back a laugh. “They were shot, Gil. Bullets reach father than the end of your blade.”

“That’s what this is for.” He turned his right hip toward Ross and pointed to his holster. It didn’t match the outfit, but Gil was the practical sort.

“About time you got here. I’m hungry,” growled Frank. It took him a minute to shake out his bones and stand.

“I don’t need someone to protect me,” said Ross.

Gillis gave an exaggerated look of surprise. “I’m not here for you, lad. I’m escapin’ all those aunties and uncles of yours. While my lovely wee lass is growin’ well, and I’m glad to have her back, I dinna want to put up with the whole Tribe.”

Gil nodded at Frank as he hobbled by. He left the door open behind him.

Ross sat on the bed. The edge poked into his thighs, so he pushed back and sat cross-legged inside the box. Once, he’d silently begged for them to come and take him home. He’d seen one or two relatives over the years and Auntie for the last while, but not the lot of them. They didn’t want to be reminded of how he’d gotten their child killed.

“They fair love yer wife,” continued Gillis. “Auntie took over the kitchen again since Amelia cannot stand.”

“Why not?”

“She twisted her wee ankle when she ran from the fire. Didn’t the lass tell ye?”

Ross didn’t want to admit he’d not only missed on protecting her, he’d run in shame from her explanation. He couldn’t take her look of condemnation. He’d seen enough of them as a child.

“Ah, that’s right,” continued Gillis in an ominously quiet voice. “Ye scurried away like a wee mousie from the cat.”

Gil slammed the door to the street and turned to face Ross. His kilt swung as he strode forward, face red and beard bristling. Ross didn’t bother to stand or protest. When Gil got his back up, he’d spew out what he wanted before he ran out of words.

Gil ranted for some time about what a great job Amelia had done. How Daniel was a “wee warrior” who deserved to become a MacDougal. How Ross’s ravens had done marvelous things. And how Ross had failed them all by running away from his wife when she needed him most.

Finally, he could take it no longer. He stood up, grabbed the bars, and told his Chief to shut the hell up.

Gil narrowed his eyes and glared back. Gil was dressed as a Highland warrior. Ross wore dirty, wrinkled clothes that smelled from the last few days. He was tired, hungry, and thirsty but would never admit it.

“She doesn’t want me, Gil. She said when we first met that she didn’t want a man who would kill just because someone looked at her. Well, I wanted to rip them apart with my bare hands for daring to touch her. I saw the bruise on her face where one slapped her.” He swallowed.

“Did they do to her what they did to—” He shook his head, unable to mention his cousin’s name. “I was too late again. She doesn’t want me. I saw her turn away in disgust. She needs someone who can protect her. Who—”

“Are ye finished yer sob story now?”

“What?”

Gil sneered down at him.

“I said, are ye finished cryin’ into yer beer? Oh, me puir wife,” Gillis placed his hand over his heart and turned his head away. He cried out. “The wee lass burned herself escaping from a prison. Alas, she should have waited for her mon to rescue her.”

He put the back of his hand to his forehead and near-swooned. “’Tis so sad, she lives with nae but a few burns. A mon touched her skin but once. Ah, ye puir mon. Ye hae the shame of yer wee wife survivin’ without rescue by her mon!”

He dropped the act.

“Ye make me want to puke, feelin’ sorry for yerself and runnin’ away. Ye should hae taken her in yer arms and thanked the Gods she was safe! But nae! Ye ran away like a wee boy, pissin’ his pants in fear.”

White heat shot through Ross at the insult. “I didn’t run away. I went after her attackers!”

“Did ye now. And when ye found them in the jail, did ye then go back to yer wife?” Gil sucked his teeth. He shook his angry, red mane. “Nae. Ye went to a whorehouse for the night.”

“I spent the night in Rosa’s kitchen!”

“That’s yer story, is it?” Gil examined his fingernails. “I believe ye. Nev and Trace believes ye. Amelia and Beth, now? That’s sommat different.”

He used a nail on his left hand to clean under his right. He stabbed Ross with a glare.

“Them that want te hang ye will think what they will. They’re already wild te hang ye for marryin’ the woman. That ye tossed her aside so quick?” He tsked and shook his head. “That doesnae make friends, laddie.”

After a long look, he brightened and slapped his hands as if to free them of dirt.

“But ye’ll soon be hangin’ high, and she’ll be free to marry. Big Joe says he wants her since Trace took the last Bride. He’ll give us the baby after it’s weaned, ye ken. But he wants Amelia all to hisself.”

Ross forced a hollow laugh. “Don’t try to threaten me with that. If I die, Amelia will stay on the MD Connected and marry Nevin. She’ll keep both of you happy.”

Gillis placed his fists on his hips. He shook his head, slow and easy.

“The lady says she cannae stay after the way ye treated her. She says ye dinna love her or ye’d have listened without judging. She’ll live with Beth until the baby’s weaned. She agrees to let us raise the child since no man here would want your brown babe. She’ll marry a man who doesnae look on her in disgust because another touched her. Joe says he’ll nae beat her. Much.”

Ross gripped the bars so hard he could almost feel them bend.

“Think on that a wee while, laddie.” Gil sniffed. “I dinnae like the stench of yer foul thoughts.”

Gil turned so fast his kilt rose up and almost showed his red, furry ass. He stomped to the door.

“Gillis! Damn you, you’re wrong! That’s not what I think!”

Gil slammed the door shut behind him. The log walls absorbed the noise. Because there was only one house past the jail, and that belonged to Doc, this end of the town was quiet. Though Miss Lily’s Parlor was across the street, she had a very discreet business. Most clients entered through the back lane. Mrs. Dawes had her dress shop next to Lily’s. That business was even quieter.

The silence rang so loud it hurt his ears.

Damn Gillis! He twisted everything to suit himself. It was laughable to think that an intelligent, sensual woman like Amelia would have anything to do with a brute like Big Joe Sheldrake. Gil was pulling straws with that one.

Would she want someone like Smythe, though? The man was rich, though arrogant and likely demanding. Damn Gil for getting his brain all steamed up!

Frank would find out the truth and tell them all. Ross MacDougal had spent the night sleeping on Rosa’s floor. The light was on late as he didn’t want to drink in the dark.

His gun hadn’t been fired in a week and had flour dust in the barrel. That would be interesting to explain. He’d helped Rosa make cinnamon buns? He snorted at the idea. Everyone knew Rosa didn’t allow anyone near her baking.

He paced back and forth. Six steps one way. Turn. Six steps back. He stopped.

Gil said Amelia’s skin had been touched once by a man. That meant she hadn’t been raped. He slumped on the bed then lay back, his muscles unable to hold him up.

She wasn’t dead.

She wasn’t raped.

She was burned but not as badly as the previous time.

What else had Gil said during his rant? Ross sat up. Gil knew how to say things that made him crazy. He seemed to enjoy pushing him.

When he was small, he’d attack Gil, going at him with every trick his Indian cousins had taught him. A few years younger and scrawny in comparison, he always lost. By the time their fight was over, his anger was gone. If they were near the water, Gil would throw him in then jump in as well. They’d have a big water fight. When they came out, Gil would act as if nothing had happened. In the winter, he tossed Ross into a pile of snow with the same result. Ross would feel calm for weeks until the anger built inside him once more.

He was in his late teens when they went to Texas, all but Trace, Simon and Jack Elliott and the oldest three MacDougals. He missed Gil, but without Fin and Hugh to hate him, it wasn’t so bad. Because he was now the oldest MacDougal son in Texas, his father finally treated him with some respect.

Jessamine Elliott was only a year younger than he, closer to a brother than a sister. Benjamin and Ranger Elliott and Nevin were a trio. Patrick Elliott tagged along with them. Malcolm, his youngest brother, was their father’s favorite and didn’t get along with anyone.