The Lawman's Betrayal (11 page)

Below in the street, a man appeared, striding purposefully down the sidewalk. Two women slowed and sent admiring glances his way. He touched the brim of his hat as he passed them.

Wes Cooper was one good-looking man. Tall, lean but muscular, and incredibly desirable. Yet he had a look around him—a dangerous aura that said he knew how to use—and would use—the six shooter tied down on his thigh. A woman’s man—and a man’s man.

He headed across the street toward the hotel. As he neared, he glanced up at her window. He must have seen her because he tipped his hat in her direction. Although tempted to wave, Naomi turned away. She had to distance her feelings—and quickly.

In a few moments, a knocked sounded at her door. “Naomi, it’s Wes.”

She opened the door. Wes stood there, that killer smile on his face, his thumbs stuck in his belt. “Ready for dinner?”

“No” sprang to her lips, but she bit it back. She was hungry, and she didn’t fancy going down to the dining room alone. As her mother used to say, don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. “I need ten minutes to change clothes and freshen up.”

“Sure thing. I’ll do the same. Meet you at the top of the stairs in ten.”

“Okay.” She closed the door and hurried to her saddle bag. Thank goodness Sally had given her a few clothes. She could at least look presentable, not that anyone cared. She selected a green dress that fit her as if it’d been made for her. She shook out the wrinkles as best she could, then slipped it over her head. With long sleeves, a vee neckline, fitted waist and full skirt, it accentuated her slim figure. She pirouetted in front of the mirror. Before she left, she ran a brush through her hair and pinched her cheeks to heighten her color. She looked good, and she knew it. Wes had never seen her dressed-up before. What would he think?

She huffed out her disgust. In one breath, she promised to distance herself from him, yet in the next instant, she wanted to please him. She’d gone loco—plumb crazy. She gathered her courage and left the room.

Wes waited at the landing. He’d changed shirts. The blue of the shirt matched the blue of his eyes. His dark hair had been slicked back, but an ebony curl had slipped loose and fell over his forehead.

When he saw her, he whistled softly. “Wow. You look amazing…beautiful.”

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He grinned. “Thanks. You ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes…I think so.”

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and stuck it into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s show these yahoos what a real woman’s made of.”

****

As they neared the dining room door, Naomi’s footsteps faltered. Only Wes’s hand at the small of her back kept her feet moving. As they entered, an eerie silence settled over the room as hostile eyes glared at them.

“There’s a table by the window,” Wes said and steered her toward an empty table off to one side.

Muttered voices followed them. Without Wes by her side, she couldn’t have faced these people alone. If she were going to stay here, she had to get a thicker skin—and soon. Wes pulled the chair out, and she slipped into it, pulling her skirt around her like a shield.

An old man appeared at the table and handed two menus to him. “What can I get you folks?”

Wes’s eyebrows lifted. Naomi too was surprised that the waiter had offered no resistance to serving them. “What would you recommend?” Wes asked.

“Can’t go wrong with steak, I always say.”

“Sounds good to me. Naomi, what would you like?”

“A steak would be fine.”

Wes handed the menus back. “Throw some potatoes on there, would you? Maybe some biscuits. And we’ll have some coffee.”

“Okay.” The man walked away.

“Didn’t expect such a pleasant reception.”

“Me neither,” Naomi said. “Especially when everyone else looks like they could…shoot us or…something.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

“Want me to get you a jacket?”

“No, thanks.”

The old man reappeared with a coffee pot and two cups. “There’s sugar in that there dish,” he said, then left.

Wes took her hand in his. “So, Naomi, tell me what you’re going to do now, and what you want me to do, if anything. How do you plan to find out who killed your husband and that…woman—without getting yourself killed first?”

She jerked her hand back. “I don’t know…for sure. I guess I need to find a place to stay first, and I want to talk to Rose Morales. She’s the one who testified that her friend, this Rita Jones person, was having an affair with Roy. I think someone put her up to lying about that, why I don’t know.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You don’t think Roy was having an affair?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t at first, but after sitting in prison for three years and thinking on it, I’m not so sure. He never talked to me about, well, anything. Told me all I had to do was be…his wife. Sometimes, he was so distant. I never knew what he was thinking. I did love him though, and I think he loved me.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at her eyes, then hurriedly put it away. She didn’t want any of these townspeople to see her crying.

“Well, maybe, and I’m just spitting out theories here, so don’t get your feathers ruffled, but since the Jones woman was found dead beside Roy, maybe she went to him and said unless you leave your wife, I’m going to tell her about us, and maybe Roy killed her.”

“I’ve thought about that, thought about it a lot.” Naomi took a sip of her coffee. “But I don’t believe that either. I guess I’m, maybe I’m too naïve or something…I don’t know. I know Roy is said to have killed a lot of people, but I just can’t see him killing a woman…like that.” Her voice trailed away.

A tall figure appeared in the doorway. Wes’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and Naomi glanced in that direction. Her appetite disappeared, replaced by a knot in her stomach. Sheriff Bert Russell, his badge gleaming on his vest, stood in the doorway. Her hopes lifted—a tad. Sheriff Russell had been kind, almost fatherly, to her during the trial. Why, she didn’t know. She’d not had any dealings with him prior, but she’d appreciated his kindnesses. He’d never really believed her innocent but had done his job and investigated thoroughly. Roy had never seemed to like the man but had never said why.

And from the look on Wes’s face, he didn’t like the man either.

When the sheriff saw them, he headed in their direction. “Howdy, Cooper.” He stopped and extended his hand.

Wes ignored the gesture. “Howdy, Bert.”

Russell’s eyes narrowed, and he withdrew his hand. Then he laughed. “Didn’t expect to see you in Gila Bend.”

Wes shrugged. His blue eyes mirrored his dislike. So, Roy, from one side of the fence, and Wes, from the other side of the fence, both disliked, or distrusted, Sheriff Russell. Confusion knotted her brow. She must be missing something.

“So what are you doing here, Cooper?” the sheriff persisted.

Another shrug.

“He was kind enough to escort me,” Naomi explained.

The sheriff turned to her. “Well, Mrs. Brecker, I’m as surprised to see you as I am him. When did you get out of prison? I ain’t heard nothing about you getting out.”

Naomi bit her lips to keep a sharp retort at bay. “For your information, that is, if it’s any of your business, I’m a free woman. I’ve been pardoned by the governor, not that I’m guilty of anything.”

“What did you come back here for?”

“And why not? There’s still a lot of unanswered questions, Sheriff. I’d still like some answers.” She crumpled her napkin, then quickly lay it aside.

“Everybody here has already closed the books,” he retorted. “I doubt anybody will even talk to you.”

“Well, I want to talk to some of them, specifically Rose Morales.”

“You ain’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“She’s dead.”

“Dead? When? I don’t understand.”

With his thumb, Sheriff Russell pushed his hat back. “Poor girl. Got herself killed by some drunken cowboy. Terrible shame.”

“But that can’t be…” Naomi’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest. All her questions…would never be answered.

“When did this happen?” Wes asked.

Russell tapped his forefinger against his lips. “Hmmm, let’s see. It was shortly after the trial. Maybe two weeks afterward.”

“Quite a coincidence.” Wes’s lips curled into a sneer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wes shrugged. Again. “I guess you investigated the murder.” His eyebrows lifted in question. “Did you find the killer?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately, he got shot while trying to escape.” A smirk trailed across Russell’s face before he hid it.

“All tied up in a neat little bow.”

The waiter appeared with their food. Wes turned his back to Russell, dismissing him. “If you’ll excuse us.”

After a moment, the lawman slouched off.

“Oh, Wes, I can’t believe she’s dead.” Her voice trembled. “I feel sorry for the poor girl. I don’t know why she lied, but that’s terrible. I’ll never get answers to my questions now. I’ll never know what really happened.”

Wes patted her hand. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

“No.” She choked back a sob. “No, no, no. I need answers. To put this behind me, I have to know why. Can’t you understand that?”

“I understand your life is in danger. Since the Morales woman is dead, and you can’t talk to her, let me take you away from here.”

“If you were in my shoes, U.S. Marshal Wes Cooper, would you leave? Tell me truthfully.”

“Well, no, but—”

“That’s right. You wouldn’t leave, and neither will I. Maybe my presence alone will shake the bad apples out of the tree. If I can’t find anything out in, say a month, I will leave. After all, my ranch, my home, is gone, too.”

“Whenever you make that decision, whatever it is, I’ll be there.” He cleared his throat. “So now let’s eat. This steak looks delicious.”

****

Wes followed Naomi up the dimly-lit stairway. She stopped in front of her room and turned to him.

“Thank you…again. I feel like I’m always thanking you…for something.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.” He stretched out his hand. “Give me your key. I’m going to make sure everything is clear—no unwanted guests. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Oh, okay.” She handed him the key and stepped aside.

He unlocked the door. “You stay here.”

She nodded.

Wes pulled his gun, then opened the door. He peered inside. Although the room was dark, he saw nothing. No movement disturbed the stillness. He stepped inside the room and walked around, stooping to peer under the bed. “All clear.”

As Naomi walked into the room, he pulled a match, lit the lamp, and turned to her. “Lock the door and stay inside.”

“I will. Well, good night.”

She licked her lips—as if asking him to kiss them. That was almost his undoing. But while he wanted to pull her into his arms and ravish her mouth, he couldn’t let his emotions control him. He walked out into the hallway. “Sleep well. I think I’ll grab a drink at the saloon. Lock the door and stay inside.”

“All right.” She disappeared behind the door.

Wes waited until he heard the key rasp in the lock. He stared at the closed door, wanting to knock it down and drag her across the hall to his room…to his bed. He sighed deeply—that could never happen, must never happen. He made his way down the stairs and out the door. A few strides took him down the street to the Silver Spur saloon. Music and laughter spilled out of the smoke-filled room. His experience had shown a saloon was a good place to pick up information.

As he pushed open the swinging door, the odor of cigarettes, liquor and unwashed bodies assaulted him. For a moment, he reconsidered his decision, but he caught a glimpse of Bert Russell at the bar. He checked his gun, then walked in and sauntered to the far end of the bar, turning to face the people. The hostility in the room was almost tangible, and his gut clenched, that familiar feeling when danger was in the air. The piano player deserted the piano, and a hush settled over the room.

The bartender appeared. “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey.”

The hum of voices resumed. Wes sipped his drink. It burned all the way down. He scanned the room. Russell was the only person he knew. One of the girls, a brassy blonde, strolled his way, her hips swaying provocatively. His first inclination was to shake his head, but he quickly changed his mind. She might be a good source of information. Maybe she’d even known the Morales woman.

“Well, hello Marshal. You that there lawman who brought that Brecker woman to town?” She moved closer to him, so close she rubbed against him. Her heavy scent was overpowering.

He studied her—she’d been pretty once. Now age showed in the wrinkles around her eyes—and the hard line of her jaw.

“Yeah, that’d be me. What’s your name, honey?”

“Dolly.”

“Nice name. I like it.”

“My daddy named me. Said I looked like a china doll.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.