Judith French - Morgan's Woman

Ash leapt up again. "Don't touch her, Walker!"

"Ashton!" Dimitri grabbed his arm and moved to block him. "This won't help our case."

Tamsin trembled as Walker snapped a handcuff around her wrist. "She'll not get away from me, Judge." Then he brought his face so close to hers that she could smell sweat and a woman's cheap perfume lingering on his shirt. "You're under arrest for the murder of Sam Steele."

I won't cry, Tamsin vowed as the sheriff clamped the cuff. Hopelessly, she glanced at her Ash.

"The jail at Sweetwater isn't fit to house a gentlewoman," Dimitri said. "Surely, Denver-"

The judge stood. "Denver is no more prepared to deal with her than Sweetwater and has less reason to bear the expense." He gestured impatiently to Walker. "Take her away, Sheriff. And I remind you that I'm holding you personally responsible for her safety until that day."

"She's innocent!" Ash shouted.

"I didn't shoot Sam Steele."

"For your sake I hope you are," the judge replied sternly. "For if you're found guilty, the Territory of Colorado will exact the highest punishment. Your sex shall not help you. You'll hang by the neck until you are dead, and God have mercy on your black soul."

In two days, Tamsin was in the Sweetwater jail and found herself the object of great speculation by the residents of the town. Two ministers, the widow Fremont who ran the boardinghouse, three members of the Methodist Women's Society, a prominent shopkeeper, and Rabbit Hawkins, the town drunk, had all found excuses to come into the jail and stare at her.

Ash, Dimitri, and Helen had followed the sheriff and prisoner to Sweetwater. Ash rode Shiloh and tied Tamsin's horses and the Appaloosa behind Dimitri's carriage.

By the first afternoon, Ash had found a private barn to shelter the livestock and paid a visit to Shelly at Maudine's Social Club.

The black-haired lass welcomed him with open arms, if a little sleepily. "It's good to see you, Ash," she said, covering a dainty yawn with her hand. "Come in, but be quiet. Maudine's still sleeping."

He followed her down the shadowy hall and into a handsome parlor furnished with velvet-covered settees and thick, rich drapes closed tightly to keep out the sunshine.

The bawdy house was just coming alive. From the kitchen, Ash could smell baking bread and hear the soft laughter of the black cook. A calico cat curled around his leg, and Shelly scooped it up in her arms.

"You know you've got no business in this room, Silky," she cooed. She rubbed her artificially red cheek against the cat's fur and threw Ash a saucy look. "Still cold in the mountains? Heard you tracked down that back-shooting woman that murdered Sam."

Shelly was barely dressed, her voluptuous figure adorned with lacy drawers, black stockings, and a corset beneath her dragon-red Chinese robe. The scent of jasmine clung to her hair and silk wrapper.

She opened a sliding door to another room and pushed the cat in. "Polly," she called softly. "Come get Silky. Maudine warned you about letting him in the front parlor." Then she turned to Ash with a professional smile. "I suppose you'll be wanting a bath."

"And a little of your time, darlin'."

"Official time, or friendly time?"

He passed her a handful of silver dollars. "I'd like to talk to you, just talk, nothin' more. I need some answers, about an old customer of yours."

"Wouldn't be Sam Steele, would it?"

"And Edwards at the livery."

Shelly glanced over her shoulder to see if they were alone. "Sam was a regular, but you know we don't talk about gentlemen friends. Edwards never came here. He likes his pleasure cheap."

"You don't discuss business. I know that. What I want to hear is gossip. There isn't much that goes on in Sweet-water that Maudine's ladies don't know."

"Isn't that the truth?"

Ash turned toward the new voice. Maudine LaFrance was standing in the doorway that led to the entrance hall. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said. "I was just-"

"Looking to get me and my girls in trouble?" Maudine was barely five feet tall, somewhere between fifty and eighty, with the complexion of an English dairymaid and the eyes of a tiger. Once stunning, she was now, in Ash's eyes, merely elegant. Her voice for all her air of authority was surprisingly high and girlish.

"You know me better than that, Mrs. LaFrance." He flashed her what he hoped was an endearing grin. "I'm trying to help a lady out of a bad spot. I need information, and I'm willing to-"

Maudine waved her hand. "No, Mr. Morgan. It's not necessary to mention an amount. I know you'll be more than generous. But you must understand that anything you learn here must never reflect on me or my ladies."

"No, ma'am, it won't," he promised.

"And none of us will testify in a court of law. You do understand that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Maudine smiled. "Then I see no problem." She looked at Shelly. "Take Mr. Morgan to the bathing room and give him whatever he requires."

"That's what I like about you, Mrs. LaFrance," Ash replied. "You're a sensible woman."

"Save your compliments for Shelly." Maudine paused, touching her cheek lightly with one painted fingernail. "And, after your bath, leave your cash donation in the blue ginger jar in the front hall on your way out."

Later, Ash visited Tamsin at the jail. "I won't be here in the morning," he said. "I have some things I have to do, but don't worry, I'll be back by evening."

"What things? Does it have anything to do with Jack Cannon?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't. It has to do with clearing you. Trust me, Tamsin. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

She'd passed a sleepless night in the bare cell and was still bleary eyed when Dimitri appeared early in the morning.

In one hand the dapper lawyer carried his black leather briefcase. Under the other arm he balanced a tray with a teapot, cups, sugar, cream, and hot cinnamon scones.

"I thought perhaps a decent cup of tea would cheer you up. Lemon wasn't available. I hope you like milk."

"It's fine, thank you. I don't understand why you're doing all this for me," Tamsin said as Dimitri set the tea tray on the wooden stool in her cell and removed several hard-boiled eggs from his pocket. "You don't know me. You don't know if I'm lying about the murder. You have no reason to trust me, yet you've left your home and other clients to come here and concentrate on my case." She chuckled. "And you've brought breakfast."

Pleasantly embarrassed, Dimitri tugged at his high collar and cleared his throat. His black coat and waistcoat were immaculate, his white shirt was starched, his trousers bore a knife-edge crease, and his shoes were shiny enough for Tamsin to see her reflection.

He looked totally out of place in this dingy jail cell that smelled of stale urine and despair. Yet, he managed to appear undaunted by the bleak surroundings.

"Ashton trusts you," he said. "I've never known him to be wrong about a person's character." He smiled. "And I do have some aptitude in that area myself. I'm convinced you're not a murderess."

"Even believing in my innocence, you're going beyond your duty as my lawyer. Not that I don't appreciate it. I do, it's just that I don't have any money to-"

"You must not be concerned with finances. Ashton has generously guaranteed all my expenses. He offered to pay my fee, but I'll accept none from him, ever." Dimitri gestured grandly. "Ashton saved my wife's life. That's how we met him. My dearest Helen was coming west from Baltimore to join me. She and Ashton were on the same train traveling through Missouri when it was attacked by Confederate sympathizers."

"During the war?"

"Yes." Dimitri nodded. "Yes, in '62. When the rebels entered the car, demanded all the passengers' valuables, and began shooting, Ashton threw himself over my wife and took a bullet to protect her. Wounded, he killed two of the marauders and drove off the others. Neither of us will ever forget that gallant deed." He chuckled. "Besides, Ashton plays a tolerable game of chess. And you have no idea how difficult it is to find a decent opponent west of Baltimore."