New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2) (26 page)

“When will your first witness be here?” Judge Webb asked.

“We hope today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“Very well. Constable Mitchell, place Mr. Foley in your custody.”

“What kind of court is this?” Foley demanded, as he shoved the young constable away from him. “I’m not on trial here, they are.”

The Judge placed his pistol on top of his desk and glared a silent threat, shutting the man up.

Sam wondered if Foley had heard the stories about Webb gaining control of an unruly defendant or two by just shooting them. Reportedly, he never mortally wounded defendants, but he wasn’t beyond causing them to limp from his courtroom.

Mitchell rapidly placed a manacle around the man’s only wrist, before he realized Foley didn’t have another one to lock on to. For several awkward moments, the constable didn’t know what to do. Looking confused, he glanced over at the Judge for help.

“Constable, put shackles around the man’s ankles. Then place him in your jail, pending the testimony of these witnesses. Have
Mr. Foley shaved and his hair cut before tomorrow morning. No one—or even one merely under suspicion—who has helped the Red Coats will ever leave my courtroom a free man.”

Judge Webb picked up his pistol, gesturing toward the other buffalo hunters. “If any of you so much as go near a member of the Wyllie family or Mr. Wolf, I will personally see to it that this gun will need reloading. First, I’ll shoot you where it will hurt the most, then I’ll hang you. Furthermore, I advise you leave town immediately and proceed out of this state. I suggest you head north to the territories, there’s plenty of buffalo up there. Do it now!”

The buffalo hunters jumped up and stampeded from the courtroom. The smell of the room instantly improved.

Sam could not help a slight half-smile. Judge Webb was a man he could respect.

Grabbing Frank Foley’s good arm, the constable and two members of the local militia hauled the grumbling and cursing man off to the Fort’s jail.

After they left, Judge Webb cleared the rest of the courtroom of all but the Wyllies. As Catherine turned to leave, Sam asked the Judge if she could stay. He didn’t want her out on the street alone, especially if those buffalo hunters were still around.

“By all means,” Judge Webb answered graciously, smiling at Catherine. “The lovely lady definitely brightens up this drab place.”

“Thank you, Sir. You are most kind,” Catherine said in a silky voice and then she gave Judge Webb a big smile.

Sam could tell Catherine was doing her part to impact the trial’s outcome.

Webb’s face split into a wide grin.

He couldn’t blame the Judge. Her smile would warm a marble statue.

He then instructed William to keep the witness out of town at their camp. “I’ll make sure that flea bag gets a shave, if I have to do it myself. Captain Wyllie, as soon as your witness arrives, come notify me. I have a small cabin on the east side of the Fort that I use for an office. Then we’ll walk across the enclosure to the jail and you can take a look at a clean-shaven Foley before we ride out to your camp to talk to your witness.”

Sam nodded his agreement, hoping their witness would indeed arrive. If not, they were going to have one vexed Judge to deal with as well as the charges still pending against them.

John, Bear, Lucky, and the O’Reilly brothers rode their weary horses into camp late that evening. They were all hungry and John, Bear, and Lucky appeared drained from lack of sleep, but their spirits rallied when they heard the results of the legal proceedings so far.

Jane wanted John to go into town to see the doctor about his head wound, but he refused, saying that it was late and he was just too tired and she could tend to it just fine. After giving John a cup of whiskey, she took great care to thoroughly clean the raw cut causing him to nearly pass out between his gulps of the strong drink.

Little John started crying when he saw his father’s pained face. Martha and Polly tried to take him aside so he wouldn’t have to see his father in pain, but Little John would have none of it. He stood by John, his little hand holding onto his father’s big hand. It
made Sam even more proud of the boy.

“Here, bite down on this,” Little John suggested, pulling a short piece of rope from a pocket.

Seeing the small coil of rope surprised Sam. It must have been there ever since he and Stephen had given it to the boy to bite down on when Little John was badly hurt on their journey here. The rope helped to tether his nephew’s pain at a time when they had nothing else to ease his suffering. The boy’s injury was just the start of many tribulations he and Stephen had faced that day. Sam grimaced remembering.

“Thanks son, that will help,” John forced a smile despite his pain.

John had nearly chewed through the rope by the time Jane finished putting a mixture of honey and herbs on the wound and stitching his brother’s forehead. It had pained Sam to watch, especially since there was nothing he could do but lend moral support. When she finished, she put another type of ointment on the wound so it wouldn’t scar too badly, but they were all more concerned about the wound festering than scarring. A wound like that could easily worsen, especially since it had gone untended for a day. She insisted John see the doctor in town as soon as he could.

“I’ll be sure he does,” Sam promised.

While Catherine and Kelly warmed food, Bear filled them all in on their narrow escape from the Indians, praising Lucky for his timely help. “John will have a scar that will make him want to wear a hat more often,” Bear said. “I’ll make him a grand coonskin cap.”

“Will you make me one too?” Little John asked hopefully.

“Aye. I’ll make you a bonnie cap,” Bear promised.

“Now you’ll have scars like Uncle Sam,” Little John told his father.

“Bear, once again you’ve proven your loyalty to our family. Thank you for having the good sense that we didn’t and going after John,” Sam said. “You saved his life.”

“Aye. You four are a mite lackin’ in good sense sometimes.”

Enjoying Bear’s good-natured ribbing, they all laughed, except John, who could only manage a slight smile.

Bear eyed the four brothers and with emotion rising in his voice, he said, “I was reluctant, because he’s yer brother not mine, to tell all of ye that I believed ye were makin’ a terrible mistake sendin’ John off by himself. Then I realized he really was me brother after all. Ye all are.”

“Your name may not be Wyllie, but it might as well be,” Stephen said.

“Bear, next time we’re in town, I’ll buy you a new hunting shirt to replace that torn one if we can find someone to make one big enough. And Lucky, maybe someday I can return the favor,” Sam offered. “If you ever need an extra man, I’m him.”

Lucky nodded at Sam. “It weren’t nothin’ special, Captain. We all have to look out for one another out here. This place is still a bit wild. But we’ll get it tamed one of these days. Then it will be time for men like me to move on.”

Sam nodded, anxious to move on himself. Would Catherine agree to come with them? He vowed to give that more thought. A lot more thought.

Tomorrow morning, the Judge would hear O’Reilly’s testimony. Then, hopefully, the Judge would convict Foley and this whole absurd mess would be behind them.

The sky a blaze of color-splashed clouds, he turned to look at the sun setting in the west. Its beauty buoyed his spirits like a lighthouse calling a captain lost at sea.

CHAPTER 24

S
am’s heart hammered as he ducked his head and took a step inside the dark jail. Would this be the son-of-a bitch? After all these years of searching, would the man be right here in Boonesborough?

As his eyes adjusted to the shadowy light, he could smell a chamber pot that needed emptying. A leaking barrel of water sat in one corner with a dipper hanging from it. The drips made a small pool of mud in the packed down dirt floor. The jail had three cells, each with a small window, providing more glare than light to the interior. The first two cells sat empty, but a man occupied the third at the far end of the room.

Wordlessly, Judge Webb led him to Foley.

Sam stared nearly transfixed by the man’s cruel eyes. War memories stirred. Sorrow gripped his heart. Fury filled him.

He glared at Foley long and hard before he dared to speak, his thoughts deep, cold, and bitter.

He stiffened and shook his head decisively.

He turned and looked over his shoulder at the Judge. “As
much as I detest this man, my honor will not allow me to falsely accuse him.”

“Captain Wyllie, give him one more look to be sure he’s not the guy. Remember, we need two witnesses,” Judge Webb emphasized.

Sam did not miss the Judge’s implication. He swung his head around. “It’s not him.”

A sense of bitter disappointment filled him. This man was evil. Was probably also a traitor, but this wasn’t the traitor he knew. “The man I seek went by the name Eli Frazer. Many soldiers knew him well because he worked as a scout for several regiments of the Continental Army, including mine at one point, before he became a traitor.”

Foley glared at Sam as he spoke. The contemptible man seemed to be gloating.

He returned Foley’s stare with squinted eyes. He let his mind bore into the man’s heart, trying to find a soul. But Foley’s heart held no honor, no integrity, and no honesty. Nothing but false pride and coldhearted malevolence flowed through this man’s veins. And his soul held only poison. The only antidote for venomous men like Foley was justice. He gripped his knife, wishing the man before him had been Eli Frazier. But he wasn’t.

“We’ll need another witness,” Sam said finally. “I will not bear false witness.”

“I understand, and I respect your integrity, Sir,” the Judge said.

Foley tilted his chin up. “You going to let me loose, Judge?” He gave Sam a look full of loathing.

“We’ll see what the other witness has to say. Let’s go Captain
Wyllie.”

As they passed in front of him, Foley spat on Sam’s shoulder.

Like a spark thrown on an explosive, the spittle caused Sam’s already unstable mood to instantaneously blaze. In a split second, he reached in and slammed Foley’s face against the rusty jail bars. The whole room shook with the force of his exploding anger. He whipped his blade instantly to the side of the man’s throat.

Surprisingly, the Judge made no move to stop him.

Foley tried to pull away, but Sam’s grip held the man’s face close. So close, they were nearly eyeball to eyeball.

“I guess you haven’t had enough of the taste of this knife,” Sam taunted, pressing his blade’s keen edge well into the skin on Foley’s neck.

“You’re lucky I didn’t piss on you,” Foley sneered.

Drops of red sprang up along the knife’s shiny edge before the Judge grabbed the neck of Foley’s shirt and lugged him back, away from the bars and Sam’s blade.

But Webb couldn’t pull Sam back from his rage. Until released, Sam could control his anger. But once unleashed, it was near impossible to still. His hands shook with his effort to sheath the knife and bridle his wrath.

“That’s the second time you’ve spit on a Wyllie. There will be no third time without you dying,” he swore.

“You going to hang him Judge?” Constable Mitchell asked on the way out.

“I can’t without two witnesses. Watch him well while I’m gone
constable. He’d better be here waiting for me when I get back or I’ll sure as hell be looking for someone else to send to a firing squad.”

The wide-eyed constable nodded his head vigorously to let the Judge know he understood. Sam could tell no idle threats came from this Judge.

Sam and the Judge left the jail, located in the western corner of the Fort. Alex stood tied just outside. While the Judge retrieved his own mount from the Fort’s stalls, Sam noted with amusement that Alex had left several mounds of droppings below Foley’s jail cell window. He suspected the horse might have deposited the pungent piles intentionally.

“Let’s go see your witness,” the Judge said, after mounting his horse.

“First we have to get John. He’s at the doc’s,” Sam said. On the way to the doctor’s office, he explained how John received the scalp wound.