Comanche Eagle Read online

  Comanche Eagle

  The Comanche Series: Book Two

  Sara Orwig

  Copyright

  Diversion Books

  A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.

  443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008

  New York, NY 10016

  www.DiversionBooks.com

  Copyright © 1998 by Sara Orwig

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, email [email protected]

  First Diversion Books edition April 2015

  ISBN: 978-1-62681-771-5

  Also by Sara Orwig

  The Civil War Saga

  Atlanta

  Memphis

  New Orleans

  The Southwestern Saga

  Albuquerque

  Denver

  San Antonio

  The Comanche Series

  Comanche Temptation

  Comanche Passion

  Oregon Brown

  Heat Wave

  The Goodies Case

  Sweet Desire

  Texas Passion

  Tides of Passion

  Warrior Moon

  With thanks to Val and Rick Rothwell, Cheryl Goudge, the Wyoming Chamber of Commerce, Mary Hartman, Shirley Flynn. Thanks, too, to Kate Duffy and to Maureen Walters.

  Author’s Note:

  In 1869, in a unique moment in history, years before women won the right to vote in the United States, the Territory of Wyoming passed laws giving women full voting rights along with the right to hold office and the right to serve on juries. In 1870, in South Pass, Wyoming, Esther Morris became the first female justice of the peace in the United States.

  One

  Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory

  1871

  “How does the defendant plead?”

  “Not guilty, ma’am.” Andrew Cain shuffled his feet.

  Summer wind swept through the windows, stirring a faint breeze in the stuffy courtroom that adjoined the Cheyenne jail. A few spectators, along with three males waiting to have arraignments, sat on rows of benches. At the front of the room behind a table, Justice of the Peace Crystal Spencer sat with her shoulders squared as she looked at the blond man facing her.

  With a conscience that was as cool and collected as her demeanor, Crystal relished both the June weather and the dispensing of justice. She had never met the charged, Andrew Cain, who could barely answer her and looked like a whipped mongrel. As far as Crystal was concerned, guilt was written all over his pale countenance. Judging his age to be less than twenty years, she felt a faint stirring of sympathy that she crushed immediately by recalling his misdeeds.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  With his blue eyes darting around the room, the slender man nervously twisted his hat in his hands. “Ma’am, I didn’t mean no harm.”

  “Your Honor,” came a deep voice. Along the front row, boot heels scraped. A tall, black-haired man stood and moved forward.

  She recognized Travis Black Eagle, farrier and owner of one of Cheyenne’s livery stables. As he strode toward her, her gaze flicked over him and her composure frayed. She was merely a nodding acquaintance with Mr. Black Eagle, but the man made her nervous. From a headband an eagle feather dangled down over his shaggy black hair. Broad-shouldered, he looked as if he were holding raw power in check, and his piercing dark eyes seemed to see too much. He looked as if he needed to be out on the plains on the back of a horse instead of abiding in the community. In a rare experience in her courtroom, she became uneasy.

  Hoping she hid the trepidation she felt, Crystal gazed up at Travis Black Eagle. For the first time she felt at a disadvantage by being seated and having to look up. He stopped in front of the table and stood beside Andrew. Most of the men who faced her looked embarrassed or pleaded innocent or occasionally gave her a surly stare. None made her heart trip in anxiety like the man staring at her now. He wasn’t moving or speaking, yet she felt a contest of wills, and she felt buffeted by his male presence.

  “I would like to vouch for Andrew’s character,” he said firmly in a voice that was low, husky, and ran over her nerves like a brisk summer wind across her bare skin. “He’s in my employ and he’s a good worker and a fine man.”

  “Mr. Cain was inebriated and disorderly.” Knowing she should sound more forceful, she took another breath and started again. “He caused a fight in Brewster Worth’s saloon, breaking Mr. Worth’s window and causing Jasper Simmons to lose three teeth in a brawl.”

  “I believe Jasper was also involved in the brawl. He was not an innocent bystander.” Travis Black Eagle’s voice was quiet, yet it held authority. She felt the familiar surge of anger over lawlessness, and it fueled her resolve.

  “I am here to uphold justice and see to it that Cheyenne enjoys law and order.” Looking at Andrew Cain, who immediately, and to her relief, glanced at the floor, she rapped her gavel. “Five dollars in fines and eight dollars in court costs.”

  Andrew’s head snapped up and his fair complexion became snowy as he swayed. “I don’t have that much money!”

  “If not, you will spend the time in jail.”

  “Jail!” Andrew gasped.

  “You will spend the time in jail,” she continued solemnly, “at the rate of two dollars per day until you work out the time. In addition, you must replace Brewster Worth’s window. Jail will give you time to consider the evils of hard liquor and brawling, Mr. Cain.”

  She rapped the gavel. “Next case.” She felt eyes boring into her and struggled to avoid turning her head, but the compulsion was too strong. Her gaze slid across Andrew Cain to Travis Black Eagle. He stood with one hand on his hip, his dark eyes stabbing into her, pinpoints of fiery anger in their depths. She raised her chin. She had sworn to uphold the law, and no harsh looks were going to deter her from doing her duty.

  Black Eagle stepped forward and, for a fleeting second, she almost flung herself out of the chair and ran. His hand jammed into his hip pocket, causing his black pants to pull tautly across his narrow hips. She yanked her gaze back up to his face and then down again as he tossed money onto the table.

  “Here’s Andrew’s fine.”

  “You may pay the clerk. Mr. Cain can contact Mr. Worth about replacing his window.”

  Her gaze met Travis Black Eagle’s again, and she clamped her mouth shut, feeling a shiver of fright as his dark eyes stabbed into her before he turned and strode from the room.

  “You were a little harsh, Sister, on poor Andy Cain yesterday. They’re talking about it at Worth’s.”

  “I would think Brewster Worth would be thankful he’ll get his window replaced,” she said, glancing at her brother as he smoothed his auburn hair. He stood in front of a mahogany-framed oval mirror that hung near the front door of the small house they shared on the edge of Cheyenne. Her gaze ran over her brother, noticing the small black threads standing up along the collar of his black coat, the shiny material wearing thin at his elbows, his scuffed and worn boots.

  “Worth won’t get his window replaced until Andy can earn the money.”

  “If Mr. Cain doesn’t cooperate, he’ll go to jail.”

  “He won’t be able to repay anything if he languishes in jail. And Travis Black Eagle would be minus a helper.”

  “Andrew should have thought about that before he became so besotted!”

  Ellery Spencer turned, focusing on her with eyes that were the same deep green as hers. “There are worse crimes tha
n liquor, Crystal. You won’t win support by putting your constituents in jail. The governor appointed you this time, but in three years you’ll have to have the approval of the public for him to appoint you again.”

  Raising her chin, she felt a surge of defiance. She moved to the tall rosewood piano that she had brought to the Territory from the Baltimore family home. Her fingers brushed the polished wood lovingly before she glanced again at Ellery. “People need law and order. You told me only two years ago Cheyenne had mostly vigilante justice. And before that, the town was almost lawless.”

  “Those days are over. And you don’t have to bring law and order all by yourself. Leave that to the sheriff.”

  “Ellery, let’s go to California!” She blurted out her longed-for dream, knowing his feelings.

  With a sad smile he shook his head. “Sister, I can’t leave these folks. They need me and I need them. You’ll like it here as time goes by.”

  “The wind blows constantly. Unless you have your own well, water is as precious as gold. The town is filled with rough men. California would be warm and beautiful and we both could follow the tasks we love.”

  “I can’t leave and you know I can’t,” he said quietly. Ellery placed a battered broad-brimmed hat on his head. “Take care.”

  Her anger evaporated, replaced by worry. “Ellery, will you be gone long?”

  His smile revealed a missing eyetooth. “Don’t concern yourself about me. I shan’t get involved in any brawls.” He straightened his black coat and swept out the door and she sighed, knowing there was no way to stop her worry about him.

  “You’re too much like Pa,” she said quietly, dimly remembering their gentle, besotted father. Ellery was her only living relative now and she worried about his vices. He tried to hide his gambling and drinking from her, but it was impossible for her to avoid hearing him stumble into the house and shut himself away in his room. And he had to confide in her about money, although he tried to hide the extent of his debts. She worried, too, about his practice. He criticized her for being so harsh. Yet she knew he should stay sober to take care of his patients.

  She moved to a window and lifted a lace curtain, looking down the wide, hard-packed dirt street at the nearest small frame house that belonged to the Shaffers. Ellery was already out of sight down the street, and Crystal let the curtain fall and moved away, her thoughts shifting to her dream of California and a warm, sunny place where she could grow flowers and continue to work in law or teach piano. If only she and Ellery could save enough to go. And if only Ellery would go. Yet she knew why he clung to this outpost on the frontier, a terminal for the Union Pacific railroad—the town needed a doctor, and out here people were willing to overlook his drinking.

  As she crossed the room, she paused in front of the oval mirror in the hallway and felt a surge of pride when she looked at her reflection. Justice of the Peace. Judge Crystal Spencer. Drawing herself up as tall as possible, she smiled. She was upholding the law, doing something important and vital, the first woman in Cheyenne to become a justice of the peace.

  That was the best thing about Wyoming Territory—they had recognized women in a manner beyond any place she had ever heard of. Nowhere else in the States did women have the vote and the right to hold office and the right to serve on juries. Nowhere else could she be justice of the peace.

  As she studied her reflection, the silence of the house wrapped around her, pulling her attention from her image and thoughts of court. She became aware of the emptiness, the lonely hours that stretched ahead. She rubbed her forehead and hurried to the small kitchen to start a supper that she knew Ellery would not come home to eat. Pausing, she glanced through the window at the rolling land behind the house and the mountains so far in the distance. The town nestled on the high plains with unending vistas and magnificent sunsets; yet when the wind howled across the land, it reminded her of her solitary life. She would always be alone except for Ellery. Painfully alone. Something tightened and squeezed inside her, a fleeting pain of longing that she tried to shake away.

  Six hours later, during the night, Crystal’s eyes flew open and she stared into the darkness and wondered what had awakened her. An insistent, loud banging on the front door made her jump with fright. Her heart thudded as she thought of Ellery.

  Swinging back the covers on the bed, she grabbed up her blue cotton wrapper. Pulling it over her gown, she rushed from the small bedroom to the front door. In the parlor a lamp still burned for Ellery and it shed a faint glow. She yanked open the front door and gazed up into dark brown eyes.

  Bringing in a swish of cool night air, Travis Black Eagle brushed past her into the house. He smelled of leather and was even more imposing than he had been in her simple courtroom. He wore black from head to toe, and she felt as if she faced the devil. His coattails spun out behind him as he swung around. “Where’s your brother?”

  “He’s not here,” she answered. “He’s probably at Worth’s.”

  Travis Black Eagle whipped past her, charging through the door and across the porch. She rushed after him. “When Ellery returns—”

  “I’ll find him. I need him. Our baby’s coming,” came the terse reply.

  The image of Elizabeth Black Eagle came to mind as Crystal watched Travis leap into the saddle and gallop up the street. How such a sweet, dainty woman could fall in love with a man so forceful, Crystal couldn’t imagine. She remembered the last time she had seen Elizabeth Black Eagle in town. Elizabeth was a beauty with silky blond curls and flawless skin.

  Would Travis Black Eagle find Ellery at Worth’s? Heaven hope Ellery was sober, yet babies seemed to come into the world without too much fuss and bother. Most of the time. Remembering how petite and delicate Elizabeth Black Eagle was, Crystal frowned. “Please, God, let Ellery be able to help.” She envisioned Elizabeth with Travis. The devil and the angel. Crystal shrugged and returned to bed, shaking her long braid of auburn hair behind her shoulders.

  She was too busy the following day to worry about Ellery. When night came, she felt the first prickling of worry, yet she reassured herself that first babies were sometimes long in arriving. She slept fitfully and rose early Monday, beginning to watch the wide lane for any sign of Ellery when she stepped out of the house for morning chores. She milked Buttercup, Ellery’s peaceful cow, a chore Crystal was becoming accustomed to far better than cooking.

  By midmorning she could hardly keep from thinking about Ellery and was tempted to put on her bonnet and call on the Black Eagles. Yet if it were a difficult delivery and Ellery was busy, she did not want to get in the way. And she was loathe to have to talk to Travis Black Eagle, knowing he would be more on edge than ever.

  Stepping outside, she picked up the bucket of water she had saved from the last washing and poured it on the pots of flowers on the porch. Usually caring for the bright yellow daisies and purple columbine lifted her spirits, but today she barely noticed them. She moved to the side of the porch to pour a gray stream on the pink primroses that bloomed beside the house.

  When she finished watering the flowers, she looked down the wide street. At this end of town the houses were spread far apart. The Shaffers’ had a white fence around their yard that was similar to the picket fence around Ellery’s house to guard each family’s vegetable gardens from roaming pigs and chickens. A few blocks up the street she could see the false-fronted buildings, the solid structure of the bank that had been built since the fire last year that had destroyed so much. For a while a log cabin on Thomas Avenue had been used as a jail for petty offenders. She knew the Black Eagle livery was on the other side of town, to the northwest, along the road to Fort D.A. Russell.

  If she went searching for Ellery, she would have to ride farther than the livery, something she would not do. The Black Eagles had moved several miles west of town because Travis Black Eagle was raising cattle and horses now, along with his livery business.

  “Get the Black Eagles’ baby delivered and come home, Ellery,” she said quietly,
reminding herself it was foolish to worry over Ellery because he came and went as he pleased.

  Hugging her waist even though the June sun was bearing down with a reassuring warmth, she walked around the house that was atop a hill and she could see the blue mass of mountains far in the distance. Her red calico dress swished around her legs, stirring the warm air.

  Going back inside, she did her morning cleaning and then sat at the desk in the parlor to do bookkeeping. As she pulled out the straight-backed wooden chair, she glanced at Ellery’s gunbelt hanging on a peg above the desk. She must remember to talk to Ellery. Law and order had come to Cheyenne, but there was still an outlaw element that appeared occasionally. The Union Pacific had created the town; and as long as gold was hauled by rail, there would be scoundrels willing to risk all to gain fortune by robbing the train.

  Hoofbeats and voices approached the house. With relief sweeping over her, she pushed back her chair. Ellery was home. She rushed to the front door and swung it open, stepping onto the porch and stopping in shock while her heart began a thunderous pounding and her blood turned to ice.

  Four men, including Sheriff Wade Hinckel, climbed down off their mounts, but it was the riderless roan led behind the last man and a travois pulled behind one of the horses that held her attention. A blanket-covered mound that looked like a body was strapped to the travois.

  Her hand flew to her mouth as Sheriff Hinckel strode toward her. His blue eyes were filled with pity, and she felt her head spin.

  “Judge Spencer, I’m sorry.” He stroked his brown mustache nervously. “Your brother—” The sheriff clamped his lips closed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he paused at the foot of the porch steps. “Someone found Ellery on his way back to town. He’s been shot. Ellery’s dead.”