Authors: Sandra Chastain
Will Spencer and his men sighted the mountains in the distance and the grasslands to the south. He climbed off his horse and squatted, studying the ground. The rain hadn’t washed the trail away, and with Bear Claw’s help, he’d been able to trace the Callahan brothers’ trek north. They reached a pocket of rocks where it looked as if there’d been some kind of confrontation. Faint tracks revealed that several horses must have converged with two horses splitting off, one riding west and the other going north, hell-bent for leather.
Farther up the trail they’d found evidence of another scuffle. Under a scattering of rock there were bloodstains. Either one of the riders had been shot or he’d fallen off his horse. This was where Bear Claw had found Josie’s patient. The Indian told them that he shot a limping horse he’d found beyond the rocks nearby. An animal with a broken leg was always put out of its misery.
The posse doubled back, studying the first horse’s tracks, and Will mulled over the evidence. There
was
the possibility that Bear Claw was involved. After the failed treaty of Fort Bridger in 1868, the Sioux, the Shoshone, and the Arapaho continued to wreck havoc on one another. Because of this, the settlers—including Will—had become distrustful of any Indian who was not living on the reservation. It was only because of Dan Miller that Bear Claw and the rest of his Sioux were tolerated by the authorities. Will knew that this tolerance would end if Bear Claw was in any way an accomplice of the Callahan brothers. But the Millers trusted him completely, and so Will would assume that Bear Claw was innocent—for now.
On the way back to Laramie, Will thought of a more likely conclusion. Suppose the whole thing had been a setup between the Callahan boys? From what he’d been
able to find out, Sims Callahan’s past was pretty spotty. For a short time, he’d ridden with Quantrill’s Raiders, who were notorious for looting and killing in Kansas, all the while claiming to be fighting for the Confederacy. Some of the most infamous outlaws had ridden with the gang, including the James boys and the Younger brothers.
The older Callahan was a rough loner, always avoiding people. The younger one, Ben, was more civilized, always reading about new ways to improve their cattle. Considering that the other ranchers had gone along with his plan to buy the cattle, this Ben fellow appeared to be well-liked. Could Ben have shot his own brother? Perhaps there had been a falling out between the brothers, or maybe he had realized that not even new cattle would have been enough to bail them out of debt. It would have been a temptation for either brother to keep all the money and head farther west. But for Ben to leave his brother for dead? Will was stumped. He was inclined to believe that Ben was dead too. Nothing else made sense.
“Let’s head back to Laramie, boys.”
His posse turned their horses north and forced the tired animals into a gallop. Will was sure of only one thing: The wounded man was the key to unlocking the mystery.
Josie paced back and forth, trying to summon enough courage to enter the sickroom. She’d be the first to admit that she was a proud person, proud of winning her case before Judge McSparren, proud of the medical knowledge she’d learned from her adoptive mother—but since that man had come along, she’d become downright bashful.
She’d seen Callahan in
all
his glory and could still hear his laughter as she dashed out of the room like some kind
of schoolgirl. But she wasn’t a schoolgirl, and behind her embarrassed physical reaction lay suspicion. Most of her court cases forced her to interact with mean, dangerous men who had the same look in their eyes that Callahan did.
That look had turned Josie back into Joe again. Joe, the tough ragamuffin boy who’d tried to pick Dr. Annie’s pocket at the Brooklyn train station. Though her real mother had tried early on to protect Josie from the truth about her own profession, in the end, Josie was no stranger to men and women—together. The walls of a house of prostitution were thin. There was little she hadn’t seen or heard.
The physical mechanics of mating she understood, but the kind of desire Callahan talked about was something she’d never comprehend. Josie had vowed never to let a man make her lose control. None had.
Until now.
Her pacing took her to the kitchen. “Lubina,” she asked hesitantly, “I know you’ve never married, but have you ever … been with a man?”
Lubina dropped the tin basin she was carrying and watched it roll down the corridor to a stop. “Been … with a man,
señorita
?”
“That’s what I asked.”
Lubina closed her eyes and shook her head. “Miss Josie, you should not even think about that. Dr. Annie wouldn’t like it.”
Josie thought about Dr. Annie and how she and Dan were forever touching and sharing secret smiles. “I may not ever have a husband, Lubina, but when Dr. Annie returns, I intend to ask her how it feels to want one.”
A roaring voice reverberated down the corridor, followed by a crash from the hospital room.
“That devil is calling you, Miss Josie,” Lubina said.
“You go see what he wants,” Josie snapped.
“No, ma’am, es time for me to go to church.” Lubina untied her apron and draped it over the hook beside the kitchen door. “I’ll send Wash to look after him,” she said, wringing her hands as she stood by the door.
“Lubina, you big coward. Come and help me.”
A bang was followed by another roar.
“Hurry,
señorita
,” Lubina said, “he es going to destroy your mama’s sickroom. None of her other folks ever busted up the place.”
Josie sucked in her cheeks. Lubina was right. The dark, angry man was
her
responsibility. She’d put a stop to his behavior—right this minute.
She marched down the hall and flung open the door. The bed had been dragged halfway across the room. Her patient was standing behind it, using it for a walker. Only sheer determination kept him upright.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m getting out of here,” he said in a threatening voice. “Don’t get in my way.”
“And where are you going?”
“To find myself a horse.”
She swallowed the obvious retort, saying instead, “But you don’t have any clothes.”
He looked at her smile and cursed. “You’re right. And you know what? I don’t need any.”
He let go of the sheet and stumbled around the head of the bed toward her, as naked as the day he was born, except for his bandages. He made it about three steps before he exhausted his strength and fell back across the cot. His collapse occurred at about the same time the sound of hoofbeats in the courtyard announced the arrival of someone in a hurry.
“Josie?” Will Spencer’s urgent voice came from the courtyard.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Josie said, then moved to open the door and called out, “Sheriff. I’m glad you—and your men—are here. I need you to help me get my patient back into bed.”
“I’ll get back by myself,” Callahan said, breathing hard.
Will burst into the room, gun drawn. He was accompanied by a posse of unidentified men. “Is it him?” Will asked.
One of the men nodded. “It’s Callahan, all right. He’s the thief who stole all our money.”
“Keller,” Callahan gasped. “You gone loco? Ben and I made an investment in those cattle, too. This was our last chance to make it as ranchers. Why would we steal our own money?”
“Because it was the only way you could get enough to pay for the cattle and the mortgage on your ranch.”
“Don’t move, Callahan. I’m putting you under arrest,” Will said.
Josie felt her face go white. “Under arrest? You can’t do that, Will. You have no witnesses and no proof.”
Will ignored her protest, gave the rancher a nod, and they both moved forward, clasping Callahan by the arms. “We have a suspect, and that’s enough for now. Turn your head, Josie.”
“Why?”
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t wearing any clothes.” Will picked up the sheet and flung it over Callahan, who could have spit gunpowder and fired away. “Give us a hand here, boys.”
“What kind of sheriff are you? I’m not a thief,” Callahan protested.
Josie moved in front of Callahan and faced the ranchers. “He’s innocent until proven guilty.”
Two of Will’s men moved around Josie, lifted Callahan, sat him on the bed, and held him there. “Suppose you tell us where your brother is, Sims.”
Josie took one look at the fury on Callahan’s face and weighed her options. A legal argument wasn’t going to defuse the situation. She reached inside her pocket and pulled out the derringer Ellie had given to her. “Stand back, Will. He may be a thief, but he’s injured. You’re not taking him anywhere.”
With a shake of his head, Will signaled his men to draw back. “Put the gun away, Josie. I know you’re trying to do what your mama would do, but this man is a suspected criminal. I have to take him to jail.”
“
Suspected
criminal,” she insisted. “Innocent until proven guilty. As his doctor, I say he can’t be moved. You’ll kill him.”
Will looked at Josie’s patient and frowned. “Kill him? I don’t think so, Josie. He survived the trip here, slung over the neck of a horse. And he survived your treatment.”
“As his attorney, I must warn you that if you remove him from the premises you’re responsible for his life.”
“His attorney?” Will’s tone grew sharp.
“My attorney?” Callahan repeated.
“Your attorney,” Josie insisted, hoping he’d shut up before he made things worse. “You see, Callahan, a woman can be a healer
and
a lawyer, too.
Fiat justitia
—let justice be done—
when
he’s well enough to be moved. Now, get him back in bed, Will Spencer, and I’ll put my gun away.”
“You tell me how a
dying
man got out of bed and
moved it halfway across the room and I’ll listen,” Will said.
“You tell me where Ben is and I’ll get back in bed myself,” Callahan said.
“I came here to ask you that question,” Will said. “If you don’t know, we’ll have to assume that he’s either dead or he’s run out on you with the money.”
Josie was still searching desperately for an explanation, any explanation for Callahan’s nudity and the bed being halfway out the door. But she didn’t have to, because at that moment, Callahan fainted and started to fall forward. “Catch him, quickly,” Josie snapped, tucking her derringer back into her pocket and rushing to Callahan’s side. She wasn’t at all certain that his faint was real, but she was willing to use it to her advantage.
“Say the word, sheriff,” Keller said, “and we’ll tie him over my horse and haul him to jail.”
“And I’ll have you prosecuted for murder,” Josie warned. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”
Reluctantly, the ranchers who’d accompanied Sheriff Spencer stepped back.
Will finally nodded his head and lay the unconscious man onto the bed.
“If you men will just roll his bed this way,” Josie said, “we’ll get him settled for the night. I was just moving him into the family wing of the house when he fell out of bed,” she explained.
The men who made up the posse began talking in low, agitated voices. “I don’t believe him,” Keller said. “He knows where our money is.”
Another voice argued. “Sheriff said that Callahan and his brother left the trail. Why’d they do that if they were heading for Laramie?”
“Maybe they had a good reason,” another suggested.
“Ordering these cattle was Ben’s idea, and you know he’s smart.”
“Ben, yes. It’s Callahan I don’t trust. Maybe he sent Ben on and staged getting shot so we’d let him go,” Keller argued.
“And maybe the thief was one of you ranchers,” Josie suggested. “All of you knew where the Callahan brothers were going. All of you need money.”
The posse rolled the hospital cot down the hall to the family wing, all the while arguing over Josie’s accusation.
Josie confronted the sheriff. “Will, you can’t believe that he’s a thief. Those gunshot wounds aren’t self-inflicted, and they aren’t flesh wounds.”
“I know. But, Josie, I also know he’s one of the Callahan brothers, and just like it’s your job to defend suspects, it’s my job to arrest them.”
Josie changed the subject. “Will, where do you think his brother is?”
“I don’t know. He may be dead or he may be halfway to California with the money. All I know is the Callahan brothers left Sharpsburg with over five thousand dollars in cash and jewels to pay for a herd of high-priced cattle imported from England. The cattle arrived, the Callahan brothers didn’t. This one’s wounded, and his brother and the money have disappeared.”
“That doesn’t prove they stole the money, and without stolen money, you have no case. The only thing you know for sure is that Callahan was almost killed.”
Will looked uncomfortable. “When we find his brother, we’ll find the money. Where’s Wash? He’s supposed to be protecting you.”
“He’s … around. Besides, I’m perfectly safe. Look at Callahan’s wounds. He couldn’t even get out the door.”
Will stared at her sternly, conscious of the ranchers
standing in the doorway, watching. “When will he be well enough to move?”
“Dr. Annie would know,” she said honestly, “but I don’t. You’ll just have to wait until she comes back for a diagnosis.”
“I don’t like it,” Will protested. “I need to question him.”
“That’s going to be hard to do considering he’s unconscious.”
“All right, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Until then, I’ll leave a guard.”
There was an almost imperceptible tightening of the muscles in Callahan’s jaw. Josie had thought Callahan’s collapse was too convenient. Now she was sure of it.
“You really going to leave that low-down thief here?” one of the older men asked.
“Looks like I don’t have any choice. If we take him to town and he dies, we may never know what happened to that money.”
“What if he runs off in the middle of the night?”
“He’s not. I’m leaving Wash in charge to make sure he doesn’t.”
“If you think you’re going to get him off like you did that bar girl, you got another think coming,” someone in the group said to Josie.
Another joined in. “Yeah, and if we don’t get our money back, you can forget a trial. We’re going to hang the son of a …”