Judith French - Morgan's Woman

Tamsin shielded her eyes from the sudden light as Deputy Joel Long set the lamp on a shelf across from her door.

Sheriff Walker and several loud strangers surged into the hall. Between them, they supported a prisoner in handcuffs. His clothing was torn, his face bruised and bloody. He seemed barely conscious.

Long unlocked the door to the cell across from Tamsin, and Walker shoved the beaten man inside. He fell forward on his knees, retched, and collapsed on his face.

"Reckon you two know each other," the sheriff said sarcastically to Tamsin.

One of the hard-faced group muttered a crude remark as Long turned the key in the lock. "Don't get too comfortable in there, Cannon," the deputy said. "You won't be there more'n a few hours."

"Yeah, then we'll hang the bastard," one of Walker's companions said. He was short and stocky with muscular arms and a full black beard. "Maybe both of them."

"None of that talk," Walker replied. "This is my jail. Cannon stays here until the proper authorities come up from Pueblo to fetch him. They can hang him down there."

"What about the woman?" another demanded.

"She's bound over for trial here. I'm sworn to uphold the law in this county, and by God I'll do it or know the reason why."

"Save us a hell of lot of money and time by stringin' 'em both up tonight," the bearded man argued.

Tamsin stared at the injured prisoner. Cannon? That wasn't Cannon. The sheriff had arrested the wrong person. This cowboy was too big, and his hair was too dark.

He moaned, spit out a tooth, and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Blood streamed from his shattered nose, and one eye was swollen shut.

"Who are you?" Tamsin asked.

He swore an oath so foul that it turned her stomach.

"You're not Jack Cannon."

"Listen, bitch, when I want something from you, I'll ask."

She retreated to the far side of the cell, away from the sickening smell of vomit. "You're an outlaw, aren't you? If you're not Cannon, who are you?"

He raised his head, glaring at her with a single bloodshot eye. "Oh, I'm a Cannon, all right. Jest not the pretty one. I'm his big brother, Boone." He hawked and spat again. "I know you, woman. You're that bitch what did Jack wrong back in Nebrasky. I seen ye with him once."

Frightened, Tamsin turned her back on him and tried to keep down the nausea rising in her throat. She'd put Jack Cannon behind her, and she didn't want any reminders of her foolhardy association with him.

"Jack'll be glad to see you, bitch," Cannon taunted. "He don't like fancy pieces turnin' their backs on him."

She clenched her teeth and tried not to listen.

"He'll be right pleased."

"He has nothing to do with me."

"Tell him that. My little brother'll be comin' fer me. He'll be comin' soon."

Tamsin shivered and prayed that Boone was wrong.

An hour before dawn, the urgent ringing of an iron bell startled her from a light doze. She'd slept in brief stretches, crouched in a corner of the cell as far from Boone Cannon as she could get.

"What's that?" she cried, not realizing that she'd spoken aloud. The lamp had burned out, and in the blackness it took her a moment to realize where she was.

"That'll be Jack," Boone cackled. "Told ya he'd come, bitch."

Tamsin tried to see out the window, but clouds covered the moon, leaving the alley pitch-dark. She felt her way to the front of the cell and began pounding on the bars." Deputy! Deputy Long! Come here! Quick!"

Outside, the bell pealed frantically.

"Fire!" a man bellowed." Fire in the church!"

Footsteps clattered past the jail windows.

"Hurry! The school's goin' up, too!"

Tamsin continued to shout for the guard. "Long!"

Banging echoed from the front office. "Fire! Open the door! The whole town could burn. It's real bad! We need more hands!"

"No! "Tamsin screamed.

Joel Long's sleepy voice was barely audible as the door hinges squeaked. "What can I-"

The deputy's words twisted to a surprised gasp and then a gargled choking. Something heavy sagged against wood, then hit the floor.

Footfalls grew closer and the inner door to the cell area swung wide.

"Brother? You in here? Light a lamp, damn it. How am I supposed to see anything in here."

Tamsin went numb.

"Jack! I expected ya to throw a rope on the winder bars and yank 'em out," Boone said.

"No need, was there? Bring the light, Billy! Billy and me just walked in the front door, all friendly like."

A circle of yellow light illuminated Jack's smiling face. "You owe me for this, Boone. Didn't I warn you about whores and whiskey? If you'd listened to me and stayed out of that saloon, you wouldn't be in here looking like a slab of beef, would you?"

"Shut up and open the door," Boone growled.

The second outlaw dangled a ring of keys in one hand, a drawn Colt in the other. "Guess you're lookin' for these."

Tamsin backed to the far wall of the cell.

"Reckon you'll be glad you come fer me, brother," Boone said." Look-ee here."

Jack's accomplice, the one he'd called Billy, undid Boone's lock. Jack came toward Tamsin. "Well, well." He motioned for Billy to open her cell, too.

"Leave me alone," Tamsin said.

"Come down in the world, haven't you, Miss High-and-Mighty?"

"Take him and go," she pleaded.

"And leave you here to face all the trouble?" He pushed back the door. "Come on, Red."

"No."

"Damn it, Tamsin. We haven't got all night. I've got a dead lawman out there, and we can't wait all night for you to make up your mind."

"Just go, please."

Jack shrugged. "That's your last word?"

"Yes!"

He glanced at the outlaw with the gun. "What's the rule?"

Boone laughed. "No witnesses."

"Sorry, Tamsin. I'd like to make an exception for you, but…" He motioned to Billy. "Kill her."

Tamsin's heart skipped a beat." No! I'm coming. Don't shoot me."

Jack advanced on her. She shivered but forced herself to come toward him. "You're certain this time?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'll come."

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her close. She gasped but didn't cry out as he slapped her hard across the face. "I owed you that one," he reminded her. "That's your first lesson."

Blood trickled from Tamsin's split lip, and it took all her willpower to keep from throwing herself on him and trying to pound his nose as flat as his brother's.

"Jack!" Boone urged. "Yah waitin' for the swivin' posse to come back?"

Jack released his grip on Tamsin and started for the door. Billy looked at her questioningly. She took a deep breath and hurried after the outlaw leader.

Outside, two silent men on horseback waited. At the far end of the street, pandemonium reigned. Tamsin could see people crowding the street. Flames shot through the roof of the Methodist church, engulfing the schoolhouse and turning the sky red. Shouting townsmen ran through the smoke and confusion with buckets of water amid crying women, barking dogs, and panicked livestock.

Jack swung up onto a gray horse, sidled it over to the high wooden walkway, and offered Tamsin his hand. She took it, and let him pull her up behind him.

"Don't fall off," Jack warned. "If you do, Billy will put a bullet in you. He's a good man. I never have to give him an order twice."

"Hey, there!" Sheriff Walker ran toward them. "What do you think-"

A rifle cracked from a rooftop across the street, and Walker dived for cover. Jack put spurs to the horse, and they galloped away from the fire and out of Sweetwater.

"Morgan! Ash Morgan!"

Ash handed his water bucket to the next man in line and turned toward Sheriff Walker. Ash's eyes stung with smoke, and his face felt scorched by the heat of the flames. Coughing, he walked back toward Walker.