The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,67
will be in our lawyer’s possession for safe keeping. Now where is the note you supposedly received?” she countered in the same sarcastic tone he’d used on her.
His dark eyes glittered. “I don’t have to show you evidence. The judge will review it in court.”
Adrianna wanted to strangle the hard-nosed, by-the-book lawman who apparently didn’t believe in benefit of the doubt. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned down to get right in his face. “Did you find evidence of three other horses at the murder scene?” she demanded sharply.
“No,” he snapped at her. “Parts of that area are piles of rock and pebbles. I did find a horse I assume belonged to the dead man. I used it to cart the body to the undertaker.” He tried to stare her down, but she refused to be intimidated. “Now why don’t you run along, Miz McKnight. I need to write up my report.”
Adrianna glanced out the window to see the mob moving in the direction of the jail. She was angry and desperate. She needed Hobbs’s cooperation—and fast.
“There is no need to write a report because you don’t have the dead man’s murderer in custody,” she said through gritted teeth. “You saw the note we received and there are two witnesses to verify its existence as the reason Cahill went to the rendezvous site.”
When Hobbs glared at her, then opened his mouth to interject a comment, Adrianna slapped her hand against his desk to demand his full attention. “I know for a fact there were three riders that left Phantom Springs that night.”
“Damn it, Boston!” Quin snapped from the cell room. He bounded to his feet, then clamped his fists around the iron bars. “Leave it alone.”
Hobbs swiveled his dark head toward the cell. “You said you heard them when you came to.”
“We both heard them,” Quin insisted.
Adrianna realized Cahill must have felt the need to argue the point, in hopes of gaining his freedom and protecting her. That was fine, well and noble, but unnecessary.
“You were there?” Hobbs demanded intently.
“That’s right,” she declared. “I followed Cahill be cause I thought he was riding into a trap. Before I could move in closer, I heard the shot, then I saw three men ride off in three different directions.”
“And you can identify these men?” he questioned.
“No, she can’t,” Quin called out quickly.
“Have you discovered the name of the deceased?” she interrogated Hobbs, then she cast a wary glance at the approaching mob.
“Not yet.”
“I demand that you release Cahill immediately. You have no solid evidence. Even your so-called smoking gun could have been fired by the real killer or one of his cohorts to make Cahill look guilty…and you know it,” she said emphatically.
“I know nothing of the kind—”
“Then I’m hiring Lucas Burnett and Dog to investigate the scene of the crime,” Adrianna interrupted in a sharp tone. “I’m willing to bet a part-Comanche, ex–Texas Ranger and Dog can find a trail that indicates there were three riders, just as Cahill and I claim. What do you want to bet, Hobbs?”
The marshal muttered, shifted in his chair, then glanced out the window at the lurking crowd.
“Do you know how bad you’re going to look at election time when I support whoever runs for office against you? I will mention the evidence I know Burnett and Dog will find at the scene that you didn’t find. I’ll make you look bad, Hobbs. Count on it.”
Hobbs’s back went ramrod stiff. His brows swooped down over his slitted eyes. “Are you trying to blackmail me?” he challenged in a low growl.
“No. I’m hiring Burnett as my private investigator,” she assured him sternly. “Release Cahill, turn over his pistol and tell the mob the truth. There is no evidence that Cahill had anything to do with the murder. He arrived too late to stop the shooting and he is an injured victim of the crime.”
Quin craned his neck around the corner of the cell room to watch the glaring contest between Boston and Hobbs. She was magnificent, he mused. He admired her keen intelligence and fiery spirit—especially when it wasn’t directed at him.
To Quin’s everlasting relief, Hobbs blew out an agitated breath, then pushed away from his desk.
“All right, I’ll release Cahill and assure the mob there is no evidence of his involvement. But if you think that will quell the rumors floating around town, you are mistaken, Miz McKnight.”
“I’m still sending out Burnett to canvass the springs,” she vowed resolutely. “We’ll let you