River Song (49 page)

Millicent leaned forward, her voluminous breasts spilling over the rim of her low-cut bodice, and tried to get Sunny's attention. "
Yoo
hoo
, Cactus Flower," she called through a giggle. "Congratulations, sugar. He’s a real dandy."

Lifting his bifocals above the bridge of his nose, Judge Hoy peered at Millicent. Then he quickly dropped the spectacles back in place. Clearing his throat, he folded his hands across his girth and said, "Since we're all together now I suggest we get on with the
proceedins
."

"Amen," Cole said with a shake of his head.

"Mother of God," Sunny mumbled, stealing a glance at her maid of honor.

"Let the party begin," Patrick exclaimed as he clutched his chest, grasping the outline of his whiskey flask.

Three pairs of eyes bobbed along with Millicent's backside as she waddled down the wooden sidewalk on her way back to The Bucket. When Sunny was certain the fancy woman was out of earshot, she turned to Patrick and complained.

"Is that the best you could do, Pop? Could you not have found a woman who at least knows my name?"

"I think Cactus Flower is kinda cute," Cole said, hoping to smooth things. "The possibilities for nicknames are endless. You've got
Cacci
,
Tussie
, not to mention—"

"Please, I do not care to hear them. I was speaking to my father."

Patrick leaned over and kissed his daughter's cheek. "Now, lassie," he soothed, "
do'na
take it out on
yer
new husband. I told
ye
finding a proper lady to bear witness for ye wouldn't be so easy on short notice. I believe we should praise the Lord that Millie
were
kind enough to offer her services."

"Humph." Sunny lifted her chin and blew the ostrich feather of her brow. "I would imagine there are many in this town who might well praise the Lord for Millicent and her services."

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Patrick turned to his new son-in-law. "Aye lad, and I can see
ye'll
be
havin
' some trouble taming this girl o' mine. May I be
offerin
'
ye
a wee bit of advice?"

Cole winked as he glanced at Sunny and said, "I expect I'll
be needing
all the advice I can get."

Patrick's grin spread as he took center stage. "We've a
sayin
' in the old country
ye'll
do well to keep in mind. There's more than a ring of truth in these blessed words, so listen careful, lad." Patrick slipped the flask out of his jacket before he offered his pearls of wisdom. "In
yer
upcoming life, my son,
ye'll
be
findin
' three without rule: a wife, a pig, and a mule!"

"Pop," said a horrified Sunflower/

"
Tsk
,
tsk
," Patrick chuckled as he unscrewed the top from the flask.
" 'Tis
nothin
' but the truth, lassie, and
yer
young man will be
knowin
' it soon enough. Let us drink now to the happy times." Patrick leaned back and took a swallow from the silver container, then passed it to Cole.

Raising the flask, he swiveled to Sunny and said in toast, "To the most beautiful bride a man could ask for." Then he tilted his head and took a drink.

Sunny didn't wait for her husband to pass the bottle. She reached over and snatched it from his hands. "To the sheriff and whatever he decides to do with me." She took a swallow, then recklessly added, "And to the scorpions hiding in my room at the Yuma prison."

Her words were an arctic blast in the desert heat. Being reminded of the formidable hurdle they still must clear turned Cole's expression grim. "That isn't where you are going, Mrs. Fremont. Don't even think about it."

"I have no choice until my brother is freed and I am cleared."

"Then I guess we'd better get to it."

Cole raised his brows and shrugged, giving Patrick an out, but the older man strode back to the courthouse door. "
Ye'll
not be gettin' rid o' me till me children are free and we can celebrate as a family."

He stepped across the threshold, replacing the flask in the pocket nearest his heart, and gestured for them to follow. His grin beaming with confidence, Patrick turned to the right and pushed his way inside the office of the sheriff of Yuma County.

The Irishman rapped his knuckles on the desk, startling the sleeping deputy so badly that he nearly tipped over in his chair.

"Ah, what—yes?" the young man managed to spit out as his chair legs banged against the wooden floor. "Kin I help you?"

"I'm Patrick Callahan from up river a wee bit. I've
brung
Mr. and Mrs. Cole Fremont of Phoenix. We're lookin'
fer
a minute of Sheriff
Moffit's
time."

"I'll see if he's in." The deputy jumped to his feet and shuffled to the glass door at the back of the small room. He rapped on the frame with his knuckles, then opened it a crack.
"Some folks from Phoenix out here to see
ya
, Allen.
Should I let em in?"

With a short nod, the deputy turned back to the visitors. "You kin come on in."

"Thank ye kindly, sir." Patrick led the newlyweds through the doorway,
then
made the introductions. "Afternoon, Sheriff Moffit. Remember me?"

The sheriff cocked his head,
then
shook it. "Face is familiar, but I can't seem to recollect the name."

"Callahan," he snapped. "Patrick Callahan. This here's me daughter, Sunny, and her husband Cole Fremont from Phoenix."

Lifting his gaze to her, he squinted as he examined her features. "Oh, yes, now I remember. You had an Indian
squ
—wife who was killed a few weeks back.
Right?"

"Good of ye t' keep it so fresh in
yer
mind," Patrick grumbled.

Allen Moffit pushed out of his chair and circled the desk, measuring the trio with careful eyes. "I'm Sheriff Moffit," he said, brushing past Patrick.
"Nice to meet you both."
Forcing a smile, he shook Cole's hand and tipped an imaginary hat to Sunny. His gaze still lingering on the woman, Allen arranged three chairs for his visitors,
then
walked to the back of his desk.

"Please sit down," he offered, easing into his own padded seat. He slid his palms against the sides of his head, making certain each slicked-back hair was still in place and said, "Haven't any new leads for you, Callahan if you're here about your wife and son's untimely death."

"That's only one reason we stopped by," Cole cut in, already certain he wasn't going to enjoy doing business with the man. "You can call off your dogs. One of the killers confessed to the murder in Phoenix and the other's dead."

The sheriff whistled,
then
looked at Patrick. "I'm mighty glad to hear that. I expect knowing that has set your mind at ease somewhat."

"Somewhat," Patrick admitted, "but not nearly enough."
He turned his ice blue eyes on Cole, clearly giving him the lead.

Accepting, the rancher explained. "Sean Callahan is sitting in jail in Phoenix for the death of the man who killed Moonstar. We need your help to set him free."

"And Sean would be?" The sheriff turned his palms up.

Patrick blurted out, "Me son. The one the dirty low-down pond scum didn't kill."

His expression indifferent, Allen leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the comer of his desk. Folding his hand with the fingertips facing him, he studied his immaculate nails, looking for even the slightest bit of dirt.

With a heavy sigh, he finally made an observation. "I don't see the problem here unless this boy, a half-breed I assume, shot the man in the back."

"It weren't like that."

Her patience thin, Sunny muttered, "It was me. I killed the son of a bitch, and I would do it again."

The sheriff's boots slipped off the desk as he jerked forward and jackknifed to the floor with a resounding crash.

Patrick's mouth dropped open and he exclaimed, "Now where'd ye be
pickin
' up such
cussin
', me lassie?"

Sunny turned her face to the wall, ignoring them both.

Sheriff
Moffit's
interest peaked, he asked as he righted his chair, "Is that a true fact, ma'am?"

"That is only a small part of the facts," Cole jumped in. Telegraphing a warning to Sunny, he glanced at her then went on. "My wife is involved in this mess, but she is so distraught over the whole damn business, I feel I should relay the story for her."

Allen's high arching brows
raised
even farther as he considered Cole's proposal. With a shrug, he finally said, "Go ahead, but make it plain and simple."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Cole slid out of his chair and walked around behind Sunny. His hands resting lightly on her shoulders, he smiled pleasantly and said, "The dead man—Buck Wheeler—was the foreman of my ranch back in Phoenix. I brought him to Yuma along with another hand several weeks ago for a little cattle business."

Pausing, Cole gave the sheriff a few moments to absorb the information. "The three of us split up here. I took the Gila River trail on horseback. Buck and Stormy took the train to Maricopa.” Feeling Sunny's shoulders tense under his hands, Cole pressed his fingers into the muscles and lightly massaged them.

"Only thing was,” he continued, “those two decided to make a detour.
Moonstar
and her son Mike were the casualties of their senseless slaughter."

Sheriff Moffit nodded. "I'm familiar with the story, Mr. Fremont. Just what is it you're driving at?"

With a reassuring squeeze to his wife's shoulders, Cole explained the events leading up to Buck Wheeler's death and Sean's subsequent arrest, omitting only Eileen's name. When he'd finished, he looked across the desk and said, "I think you'll have to agree there's been a serious miscarriage of justice here. Sean doesn't belong in jail any more than Sunny does."

Raising one whip-like eyebrow, the sheriff muttered, "Is that so?"

"Yes, sir.
I believe Sean should be released immediately and my wife granted a full pardon. It's the only decent thing to do."

"We're talking justice here, not decency, Mr. Fremont." Frowning, he cocked his head. "Let me see if I have the facts straight. You say this Sean was with a woman— helping her in some way—yet, she didn't come forward to clear his name?
Mighty strange and mighty suspicious to my way of thinking."

Vaguely uncomfortable, Cole tried to explain. "The woman, he was only trying to protect her reputation, you know." Hit by an inspiration, Cole winked. "He did spend the night in a field with her and all. You know how those things go."

"No, sir, I don't." Sheriff Moffit sat straight up in his chair. "Why would anyone give a good gall dang if two
injuns
decide to spend a night rutting in the bushes?" At Sunny's gasp, Allen inclined his head. "Begging your pardon, Mrs. Fremont, but that's a pure and simple fact."

Leaning back in his chair again, he narrowed one eye and stared at Cole. "Course, I could see a problem if that woman weren't an
injun
.
That it?"

"Sheriff Moffit, I really don't think that needs discussing."

"Let it be, lad.
Sean'll
be knowin'
we were put on the fence." Rising from the chair, Patrick sucked in his belly and hiked up his trousers. "Me boy was with a white woman, as
yer
suspectin
', but he weren't doin' her no dishonor, sir."