“I called Lee the minute I saw young Fenton push you out of the wagon,” the sheriff said, puzzled.
“Everyone is too concerned with the mine explosion to care much who gets thrown in jail,” Leander said. “All the reporters are at the Little Pamela trying to figure out new ways to describe the bodies,” he added with a grimace.
“What are you planning?” Edan asked, his eyes narrowed.
Kane was silent a moment. “Sheriff, you mind if I stay in here overnight? I’d like to play a little practical joke on my wife.”
“Joke?” the sheriff asked. “Women don’t usually appreciate a joke, no matter how good it is.”
Kane looked up at Lee and Edan. “Can I count on you two keepin’ quiet for twenty-four hours?”
Edan stood and, at the look on Lee’s face, he said, “My guess is that he wants to see if Houston will stand by him if he tells her that he’ll probably be convicted as a murderer. Am I right?”
Kane started studying the dust in a far corner of the room. “Somethin’ like that.”
Both Lee and the sheriff snorted.
“I ain’t interferin’ in love,” the sheriff said. “Mr. Taggert, if you wanta set up residence in this jail, be my guest, but the city of Chandler is gonna bill you as if this were the finest hotel in San Francisco.”
“Fair enough,” Kane answered. “Lee? Edan?”
Leander merely shrugged. “It’s up to you. I’ve known Houston for most of my life, and I never knew anything at all about her.”
Edan looked at Kane for a long moment. “When Houston passes this test—and she will—will you give up your obsession of doubting her so we can get back to work? Vanderbilt has probably bought the eastern seaboard by now.”
Kane drew his breath in sharply. “Well, he can sell it back to us starting tomorrow, as soon as I get out of this place,” he said with a grin.
When the men were gone, Kane lay down on the cot and went to sleep.
* * *
Houston had a three-month-old baby in her lap, trying to get the child to sleep, and a two-year-old and a four-year-old in a bed beside her. They were some of the many children who’d lost their fathers in the last few days. Their mother was beside herself trying to figure out how she was going to support herself and her small children in the years to come. Houston and Blair and other members of The Sisterhood had been campaigning to get the local merchants to try to find jobs for the women, and Houston was one of the volunteers to help in an impromptu child-care center—something new that Blair had seen in Pennsylvania.
When the sheriff’s deputy came to the little house and asked for her, she had no idea what he wanted.
“Your husband has been arrested for the murder of Jacob Fenton,” the young man said.
It took Houston a moment to react, and her first thought was that Kane’s temper had at last gotten the better of him. “When?” she managed to whisper.
“Sometime this mornin’. I wasn’t there so I don’t know much about it, but ever’body in town knows that he threatened ol’ man Fenton’s life, not that anybody blames him, ’cause we all know that Fenton’s guilty as sin, but it ain’t gonna help Taggert none. They hang you for killin’ a bad man as well as a good one.”
Houston gave him her iciest look. “I will thank you to not judge and condemn my husband before you hear the facts.” She put the baby into the boy’s arms. “Here, you may take care of the babies while I go see my husband.”
“I can’t do that, Blair-Houston, I’m on city time. I’m a deputy sheriff.”
“I had the impression that you believed you were a judge. Check her diaper and see if she needs changing, and if the others wake up, feed them and entertain them until their mother returns in about two hours.”
“Two hours!” she heard the boy wail as she left the cabin.
Houston’s carriage was waiting outside for her and she made the trip to the jail in record time. The little stone building was built into a hill at the far edge of town. Most of the prisoners were drunks sleeping off Saturday night, and the real cases were usually taken to Denver to be tried.
“Good morning, Miss Blair-Houston,” the sheriff said, getting to his feet and hastily putting his paper down.
“Mrs. Taggert,” she corrected. “I’d like to see my husband immediately.”
“Why, of course, Mrs. Westfield-Taggert,” he said, removing the keys from a nail in the wall.
Kane was asleep on the cot and Houston saw the dried blood on the back of his head. She went to him, touched his face as she heard the cell door being locked behind her.