Beyond The Horizon (37 page)

Though Blade knew in his heart there was little Shannon could do to free him, he loved her all the more for her indomitable spirit and incorrigible optimism. He adored her for her unflagging courage and giving nature. If will alone could free him, Shannon would surely find a way.

Shannon spent the remaining hours of that day, including those she should have spent sleeping, formulating then discarding dozens of plans to free Blade from jail. Each one was worked out meticulously in her mind, then promptly rejected. When morning arrived Shannon had finally settled on a strategy that
could
work—provided she found an accomplice. Alone, she hadn’t a prayer of freeing Blade, but with an accomplice her chances improved dramatically. The problem was locating someone willing to break the law. A wide smile lit Shannon’s features when she finally came up with the name of a man who just might be persuaded to join her in her madcap scheme.

“I came as soon as I received your message, Shannon. What is so urgent? Why must I tell no one?”

Shannon had asked one of her Indian students to take the message to Nigel Bruce, knowing it would be more difficult to trace that way.

“Come inside and close the door, Nigel. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

“This
is
serious, isn’t it?”

“A man’s life is at stake.”

“A man’s life! Are you referring to the half-breed they call Blade? There are rumors circulating about the two of you but I put no faith in them.” Shannon flinched at the hint of reproach in Nigel’s voice.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, Nigel,” Shannon said slowly, “but I want you to know the truth. I love Blade and he loves me. He is no more guilty of murder than I am. He is a special investigator for the president, but Colonel Greer refuses to believe him.”

“I understand the evidence against him was quite convincing,” Nigel said, more than a little shocked by Shannon’s astounding confession.

Nigel did not feel the same hatred for Indians the American harbored, but murder was a vile crime. Still, he trusted Shannon, had faith in her judgement, and if she said Blade was innocent, he tended to believe her.

“Someone deliberately made it look as if Blade committed the murder by planting false evidence,” Shannon explained. “Blade may be capable of many things, but cold-blooded murder isn’t one of them. Major Vance and Blade were friends, as well as being involved in an investigation that I cannot divulge at this time. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I must confess I’m shocked by—what you have just told me,” Nigel said. Thinking of Shannon with another man wasn’t pleasant. Truth to tell, he had hoped … ah well, it just wasn’t meant to be. “I do trust you, but I’m puzzled by your reason for confiding in me.”

“I need your help, Nigel,” Shannon said. “I can’t do it alone.”

“Do what? Surely you don’t—no—not even you would dare,” he sputtered, becoming excited at what Shannon was suggesting.

“I simply can’t let Blade die without trying. I still believe the president will vindicate Blade, but it may be too late. We have to act tonight. I’ve already alerted Blade.”

“Bloody good show!” Nigel crowed, properly impressed. “By God, I wish your heart weren’t engaged elsewhere. I’ll never find another woman like you.”

“Then you’ll help me?”

“Why not? I’m ripe for a bit of adventure. Should prove quite interesting. I don’t know Blade well, but if you love him, he can’t be a bad sort. Since there is no longer any hope for me where you are concerned, I’ll be moving on soon. I may as well make a grand exit. Tell me your plan.”

“How are you at stealing horses?”

“I understand one of my ancestors was a horse thief, so I imagine I shall take to it naturally. Where is the horse I’m to steal?”

“It’s Warrior, Blade’s gray pony. He’s stabled in the corral with the cavalry horses. I suggest you identify him in daylight, then go in for him after dark. Leave by the postern gate and take him across the river. Tether him in the grove of cottonwoods growing there. I’ll give you a list of supplies to pack in the saddle bags. You must accomplish all this by ten o’clock tonight and be concealed behind the guardhouse when I pass by.”

“What will happen then?” Nigel asked eagerly. His admiration for Shannon’s fertile mind grew by leaps and bounds. Everything had been well thought out.

“Here’s what we must do,” Shannon said, leaning close. Then she proceeded to tell Nigel exactly what to expect.

“Grand, just grand!” Nigel exclaimed. “It should work if luck is with us.”

“It
will
work. Luck has nothing to do with it,” Shannon retorted. “You don’t know how much your help means to me, Nigel.” Her eyes grew misty with gratitude. “I’ll always be grateful to you for your willingness to help and your trust.”

“It will be a noble adventure, one I can tell my grandchildren about one day.”

Shannon’s head was awhirl as she carefully went over her plans for Blade’s escape later that evening on the way to Molly Greer’s house for the weekly women’s suffrage meeting. When she arrived, she was more than a little shocked to see Poker Alice and several of the other saloon girls in attendance. It was to Molly’s credit that she didn’t turn them away, for they were all committed to women’s rights, no matter what their calling.

As usual, the meeting adjourned shortly before ten o’clock and Shannon kept a strict eye on the time. As was her habit, she lingered a few minutes after the meeting, not wishing to rouse suspicion. While Molly was bidding the others good-night, Claire sidled up to Shannon, a nasty smile pasted on her face.

“Too bad about the half-breed,” she smirked. “I always knew he was dangerous, him with his bold black eyes.” She shuddered delicately. “I’ll wager those big bronze hands have more power in them than five men put together. I’m certainly glad I never—knew him well. Not like you did,” she hinted maliciously.

“Obviously you don’t know what you are talking about,” Shannon charged, curbing her famous temper. “I know Blade better than you do, and I know he’s not capable of murder.”

“I’ll bet you do know him better,” Claire hinted lewdly.

Shannon bristled angrily and would have lit into Claire despite her resolve if Molly hadn’t joined them just then. “A rewarding meeting, wouldn’t you say?” Molly was never happier than when espousing a cause.

“I was mortified when those loose women showed up,” Claire said, feigning outrage.

“We all want the same thing, dear,” Molly replied with mild reproof. Then she turned to Shannon, her eyes soft with sympathy. “Are you all right, Shannon? I know you were fond of Blade, and I admit I was shocked myself by what he did.”

“Blade saved my life and I’ll never believe him guilty of murder,” Shannon said stubbornly. “Thank you for caring, Molly.”

“Why, you’re like my own daughter, Shannon. I’ll always care about you.”

Claire turned away in disgust, making an unladylike sound deep in her throat.

Mindful of the time and what lay ahead, Shannon said, “It’s getting late, and I should be going. Goodnight, Molly, Claire.”

“Goodnight, dear. Come to dinner next week.”

“I will. Ask me any night,” Shannon responded.

Her trek home across the dark parade ground led Shannon past the guardhouse, just as planned. All was quiet; the grounds were deserted except for the usual guards patrolling the outer perimeter of the fort. Shannon hoped Nigel had gotten Blade’s horse out of the corral without mishap and was already in place waiting to implement the second phase of their plan.

As Shannon drew abreast of the guardhouse door, she suddenly threw herself to the hard-packed earth with sufficient force to knock the wind from her. Lifting her dirt-smudged face she cried out in a voice just loud enough to alert the guard inside the guardhouse. “Help, oh please, help me!”

The night was balmy, the guardhouse door open to catch the breeze, and the sargeant on duty responded instantly to a female in distress. Rushing out the door, he nearly stumbled over Shannon where she lay stretched out on the ground.

“Miss, what happened? Are you hurt?”

The young, newly promoted sargeant never had a prayer against Shannon’s feminine wiles.

“I—I think so,” Shannon said, her voice quavering. “I tripped over my hem and twisted my knee. I—I don’t believe I can walk.”

Recognition dawned as the sargeant helped Shannon rise. His arm steadied her as she swayed against him. “Why, Miss Branigan, what are you doing out by yourself this time of night?”

“I attended a meeting at the Greers’,” Shannon explained, “and was on my way home. I don’t think I can manage on my own … will you help me?” Her voice held a note of helplessness few men could resist.

A confused look spread over the sargeant’s face. Southern-born and raised, his chivalrous nature demanded that he aid a lady in distress, while his sense of duty mandated that he not leave his post.

Sensing his dilemma, Shannon gazed up at him, fluttering her long lashes in a captivating manner. “Please assist me back to the Greers’ house—it’s closer,” she suggested helpfully. She looked so appealing, so adorably dependent on him, that Sargeant Becker failed to consider the consequences. Besides, he’d only be away from his post a few minutes and the prisoner was locked securely behind bars.

“Of course I’ll help you, Miss Branigan,” offered the smitten young man. “Lean on me and I’ll assist you back to the Greers’.”

The moment Shannon limped away, leaning heavily against Sargeant Becker, a figure detached itself from the shadows at the side of the guardhouse and slipped inside the open door. Working against time, Nigel Bruce quickly pulled open the center drawer of the desk and found the keys to the cells exactly where Shannon had said they would be. On her previous visits she had observed where the duty officer kept them. Stealthily Nigel entered the cell area. Only one cell was in use, the occupant lying on the bare mattress.

“Blade, wake up, old boy!”

Years of training brought Blade instantly alert. He rolled to his side. “Who is it?”

“Nigel Bruce, old boy.”

“What in the hell are you doing here this time of night?” Blade asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Letting you out of here.”

“What! How—”

“It’s Shannon’s idea, old boy. I’m just along for the adventure. Hurry, we haven’t much time.” The cell door swung open with a groan of protest. “Your horse is tethered across the river in a grove of cottonwood trees. You’ll have to make your way there on foot.”

“Where is the guard?” Blade asked, peering anxiously toward the guardroom.

“Shannon lured him away. She’s quite a woman. But you must hurry,” Nigel urged, “or all her planning will have been in vain.”

Blade acted swiftly once the cell door was open, proving he had lost none of his skill or cunning. Before leaving the cell he rolled the pillow and blanket to look as if a man were lying on the narrow bunk. Then Nigel carefully locked the cell door and followed Blade into the deserted guardroom. While Nigel replaced the keys exactly where he’d found them, Blade located his guns in a cupboard. Beside them he found his stolen knife, the one that had killed Major Vance. He strapped on his weapons and was ready to leave.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Bruce,” Blade said as they slipped out the door and around to the rear of the guardhouse where darkness protected them.

“You have Shannon to thank.” Nigel grinned, relishing the grand escapade. “I merely lent my help.”

“Will you give Shannon a message for me?”

“Of course, old boy, though I reckon it’s the same one she asked me to relay to you.”

“Tell Shannon I—I love her—and thank her for giving me back my life.”

“I’ll relay your message. Now I have one to deliver to you. Shannon said to tell you she’ll wait for you to return for her—forever if necessary.”

“I’ll return, somehow I’ll come back for Shannon. Farewell, Nigel Bruce.” He extended his hand.

“Good-bye, Blade, good luck. Use the postern gate. It’s unguarded.”

Then Blade was gone, melting into the shadows. When Nigel turned around for a last look he had already disappeared, his moccasined feet moving silently and stealthily through the black night.

Meanwhile, Shannon arrived at Colonel Greer’s house. The colonel was home and expressed great concern as he helped Shannon into the house. He summoned Molly to see to Shannon’s injury, then turned his cool gaze to Sargeant Becker.

“Weren’t you assigned duty at the guardhouse tonight?”

“Yes sir, but Miss Branigan needed help,” the flustered young man explained. “I did what I felt was proper under the circumstances.”

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow, Sargeant. Return to your post.”

Minutes later, Sargeant Becker reached the guardhouse. Nothing looked amiss, but just to be certain he looked in on the prisoner. Blade appeared to be sleeping soundly, much to Becker’s relief, and he returned to the guardroom. At midnight his replacement, Sargeant Lark, arrived and Becker sought his bed in the barracks. When Sargeant Lark checked the prisoner, he found all in order.

“Prison break!” The word spread rapidly through the fort. The prisoner was discovered missing when breakfast was brought to him. It was to have been his last meal. No one could explain his mysterious disappearance. A thorough investigation was under way, but Colonel Greer was convinced it had happened when Sargeant Becker left his post during those few minutes he had gone to Shannon’s aid. If Greer didn’t know for a fact that Shannon was at his house, he would have sworn she was responsible. But Shannon couldn’t have done it alone, and Greer could think of no one willing to break the law to free a convicted killer.