Morgan's Woman

hemp justice!'

Illuminated by the yellow glow of a kerosene lantern, Walker stepped out onto the stoop in front of the jail, a shotgun cradled in his arm. 'Tamsin MacGreggor's my prisoner,' he bellowed. 'Do you want her?'

'Yes!'

'Hand her over!'

'Hand over the murdering whore!'

Laughing, Walker yanked off his tin star and tossed it into the dirt. 'Take her!'

As he stared in horror at the mob, unable to move, Ash heard Tamsin scream. 'No! No!' he tried to say, but the words wouldn't come. His throat was dry and aching, as though a rope were tightening around it.

Two cowboys appeared in the doorway with Tamsin between them. Her calico dress was torn down the front, exposing her breasts. Her face was bruised, her mouth bleeding.

'Ash!' she cried. 'Ash, help me!'

Henry Steele threw a rope over her head and kicked his mount. Tamsin tried to grab the rope, but she was yanked off the edge of the wooden walkway into the street. She screamed again as Steele spurred his horse and dragged her down the street toward the gallows.

'No!' Ash said, struggling against the bonds that held him. 'No! She's innocent.'

Somehow, he reached the foot of the steps. Above him, a noose swayed in the fog.

'Hanged by the neck until dead!' Henry Steele said.

'Until dead,' echoed the mob.

'Ash…' Tamsin whimpered as the judge settled the noose around her neck and pulled a black hood over her face. For the barest instant, her frightened gaze met his. And then he saw nothing but blackness.

Ash felt cold sweat running down him as the trapdoor snapped open and the crowd roared.

He felt himself fall and jerk upright. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. His heart pounded against his chest wall. He sucked in air as though he were drowning.

Dazed, he looked around. It was pitch-black, and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was still in Jacob's cabin with Tamsin sleeping peacefully beside him.

'Woman, what have you done to me?' he whispered.

Devil take him, he didn't care if she had murdered Sam Steele. All he wanted to do was take her away and protect her. He tightened his arm around her, telling himself that he'd tear up her arrest warrant, ride south to Mexico, go anywhere so that they could be together.

But even as he formed the silent vow in his heart, he realized he couldn't keep it. He knew only one code, his daddy's. He had to live his life in the way he'd been raised, or there'd be no peace for him, ever.

'What's wrong?' Tamsin asked sleepily.

He looked down at her, wanting nothing more than to tell her that she'd won, but the words wouldn't come. 'Nothing, hon, go back to sleep.'

'The rain's stopped, hasn't it?'

'Yeah, the rain's stopped.'

'What now?'

'We wait until the ground dries; then I take you back to Sweetwater for trial.'

'Just like that?' The quaver in her voice turned him to jelly. 'As though we hadn't…'

'No, darlin', not just like that.' He kissed the crown of her head, inhaling the sweet, clean scent of her hair. 'I'm going to get you a lawyer,' he promised. 'The best damn lawyer west of the Mississippi. And I'm going to stand with you, every step of the way until we get through this.'

She made a small sound of distress. 'All right, Ash. Have it your way. I'm just too tired to fight you anymore.'

'I won't let you down,' he promised.

'You'd better not.'

A horse whinnied, and Ash reached for his gun.

'Hello the cabin!' a voice called from outside.

Tamsin rose and began to pull on her clothing as Ash motioned her to stay clear of the door.

'Be ye friend or foe?' the stranger demanded.

Ash lowered his weapon. 'Jacob, you old grizzly, is that you?'

'And who else would it be in the middle of the night? Who be you, pilgrim? God-fearing or one of the wicked?'

'Not as wicked as you,' Ash shouted back. 'I'm opening the door. Don't shoot me.' He glanced back at Tamsin to be certain she was decent. She'd given up the attempt to dress and had covered herself with a blanket.

'Ash Morgan! You son of a polecat! What are you doin' up this way?' the buckskin-clad trader demanded as he ducked his head to enter the cabin. 'And not alone, I see.' He snatched off a shapeless hat decorated with a beaded hatband and an eagle feather. 'Evenin' ma'am.'

She blushed. 'How do you do, Mr…Mr…'

'Jacob will do, ma'am. Proud to make your acquaintance.' He leaned a Hawkin rifle against the wall and took Ash's hand. 'Good to see you, son.'

'And you, Jacob,' Ash replied. 'This is Tamsin MacGreggor. We had a run-in with a Cheyenne war party a few days back and came by to take advantage of your hospitality.'

'Did ye, now? I heard some bunch of young bucks was liftin' hair around here. Glad it wasn't yours.'

'Or yours,' Ash said. 'Is your lady with you?'

'Land 'o mercy, no. Had to haul her south to visit her people. She's in the family way, and nothin' would do but what I take her to her mother until the mite gets here. To tell the truth, son, I'm thinkin' of movin' my whole operation south. Utes gone, Cheyenne turned hateful, and white folks got no patience with an old-timer like me.'

'Hungry?' Ash asked him. 'We've got some stew and biscuits left.' Ash glanced back at Tamsin. 'You may as well go back to sleep. If I know Jacob, he'll have me up until dawn talking.'

'I just might have a bite,' Jacob agreed. 'Nothin' like a bowl of hot stew, a little Taos lightning, and good company.'

'I'm sure this is your bed,' Tamsin said. 'I can-'

'No.' Jacob scratched his beard. 'I can sleep when you folks have rid on. Me and Ash haven't swapped stories in what-nigh on to a year?'

'At least.' Ash pushed the kettle over the coals and stirred the pot with a long-handled iron spoon. 'I should offer congratulations on being a father.'

Jacob grinned and settled cross-legged on the floor. He pulled off his high moccasins and warmed his feet at the fire. 'Had to marry her, all legal like. Times are changin', boy. Used to be a man could do what he wanted in these mountains, long as he watched his back. No more. Civilized folk movin' in. It will be tough enough on that mite of mine, being half-Indian, without being born on the wrong side of the blanket.'

'She deserves marriage, to put up with you,' Ash said.

'Yep, yep, that she does.' The mountain man took a long-stemmed pipe and tamped it full of tobacco, then lit it and took a long, slow puff. 'Talked to a mule skinner, south of here. He claimed his partner was shot and two horses stolen last Wednesday. Says he saw five gunhands. Described one of the shooters as Texas Jack Cannon down to the gray horse and fancy boots.'

'How did he say he lived to tell of it?'

'Claims he was in the woods, taking a crap, when he heard the shootin'. Crept up, seen the odds, and laid low.' Jacob grimaced. 'Can't vouch for the mule skinner. Never seed him afore. He might of got drunk and killed his partner hisself. But I remember you had a special dislikin' for Jack.'

'I was thinking of riding down to Leon Cannon's place. Is he still alive, do you know?'