The Lady Who Drew Me In. Thomasine Rappold
did he say? Did he see anything?”
“You were right.” Her blue eyes brimmed with tears. “He saw everything.” She opened her case and pulled out her sketch pad. “The poor child saw everything.”
Jackson took a deep breath.
“This is the man he saw shoot his father.” Daisy handed Jackson the pad.
He glanced at the sketch. The spatter of bold slashes and strokes conveyed the violence of the crime, and his blood turned stone cold in his veins. He focused on the face centered amidst the random images on the page. His heart shot to his throat. He swallowed hard, unable to pull his eyes away from it.
“You’re certain?”
“I am certain,” she said. “What does it mean?”
Her tone dipped with concern for the boy. Jackson swallowed again. “It means my client is innocent,” he said finally. “And a killer walks free.”
Chapter 3
Daisy’s mood grew as dark as the sky. Thick clouds sailed overhead. The wind blew harder. She tightened her shawl around her, cursing their foolishness for declining Mrs. Rhodes’s supper invitation. The mountain trail could be trying in the best of weather conditions, but traveling in the rain would demand more stamina than she could muster after her draining visit with Andy.
She clenched and unclenched her fist to awaken the numbness that still lingered in her hand. Her arm felt like lead.
“We should forgo the logging trail and take the main road down to town,” she advised.
Jackson shook his head. “I need to get back to Troy. We’ll take the shortcut.”
“The rain could make the trail dangerous. And if it rains hard enough—”
“We have plenty of time before the storm hits,” he replied, glancing skyward.
“You don’t know that. You’re not familiar with this territory. These storms—”
“You’re not going soft on me now, are you, Mrs. Lansing?”
She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Why is it you lawyers think you know everything?” she asked. “Is arrogance a requirement for your profession?”
“Absolutely.” He laughed.
But ten minutes later, he wasn’t laughing anymore. Daisy cowered in her seat, holding tight to the bonnet flapping against her ears. Lightning flashed through the trees, and the sound of thunder rumbled closer and closer. Rain blew on a wind so fierce the drops hurt when they hit.
The urge to remind Jackson that she’d told him so clogged in her throat with the fear things might only get worse. Felled branches hindered their pace. Twice already Jackson had had to climb from the wagon to drag the gnarled limbs off the muddy trail.
The horse plodded on, the wagon lunging and bounding behind. The wagon plunged into another deep rut, tipping forward as it lurched to a stop. The horse strained to pull the buried front wheels from the muddy bog, but this time the old rig wouldn’t budge.
Jackson hopped out to inspect the situation. “Damn it!”
The two words said it all. Even without looking, she knew it was hopeless. The wagon was mired in mud, and there was no sense wasting time. They needed shelter. Waiting out the storm beneath the bed of the wagon was no option now.
“Cuffy’s shanty is just up ahead,” Daisy shouted above the wind. “We can make it on foot.”
Jackson helped her down from the driver’s side, then scrambled to unhitch the nervous horse from the wagon. He stuffed Daisy’s case and some other supplies into saddlebags and tossed them over the horse. Daisy trudged behind, cursing Jackson under her breath as he led the mare through the slippery muck.
The foolish man’s rush to return to the city had them ankle deep in mud and neck deep in trouble. They trekked to the shanty, where Jackson tied the horse to a nearby tree. Daisy didn’t bother to wait before pounding on the door. When no one answered, she pushed open the door and stumbled inside.
Yanking off her soggy bonnet, she shook the rain from her head, stomping the mud from her shoes. She spun to face Jackson. “I told you!”
He barged past her, his gaze darting around the dim room. During a flash of lightning, he reached for a lamp.
“I knew we shouldn’t have taken the trail. Why didn’t you listen to me?” she said to his back.
He lit the lamp. The small room came alive with light in the darkness of the storm outside. “We’ll be fine here,” he said. But his voice was filled with more irritation than confidence.
“What about the wagon?” she asked. “How do you propose we get back to town?”
Jackson ignored the question, tossing his hat to a small bench near the fireplace. He bent to start a fire as Daisy paced behind him. “You and your big hurry to get back to Troy,” she said. “You—”
“I want to free an innocent man before he dies!” He stood to face her. His brows slanted above cold blue eyes. She blinked hard at his loss of temper. He took a breath, collecting himself. “Randal Morgan is ill. He doesn’t have much time. I’m trying to clear his name before he dies behind bars. Thanks to your sketch, I may now be able to do that,” he said. “Not to mention aid the authorities in apprehending the man who murdered Andy’s father.”
She lowered her gaze, shamed by her selfishness. It wasn’t as though she’d forgotten about Andy and what he’d witnessed, but she was trying hard not to think about it. Her stomach turned. How she’d hated making the poor boy relive it. While she couldn’t regret using her ability in this instance, the wrenching memory of his pained little face spurred her to tears. She blinked them back. Despite everything, her vexation at Jackson lingered.
“It’s almost dark now; we’ll never make it tonight,” she muttered. “This is a nightmare.”
“Calm yourself and come sit down,” Jackson said. The fire sparked into a nice blaze in no time. Jackson peeled off his coat and hung it over the back of the chair. “Sit.”
Daisy sighed. Hiking up her heavy wet skirts, she strode to the chair, then plopped down in front of the fire. “A nightmare,” she uttered again, crossing her arms to her chest.
He dragged a small chair from the sawbuck table, then sat next to her. The wobbly thing creaked beneath his weight, and she wondered how Cuffy hadn’t yet landed on his rump atop a pile of splinters. “We’ll be safe here until morning,” Jackson said. “We’ll get the wagon at daybreak, then slip back into town as discreetly as we left.”
“What if we can’t get the wagon out?”
Jackson frowned. “Then we walk back.”
She took a deep breath, trying hard to stay calm. “I don’t suppose we have much choice,” she said. Inside, though, her mind was whirling with worries. Her hard-earned reputation was at stake, and although she had no regrets for her actions today, she couldn’t afford trouble.
And no matter how persuasive the arrogant attorney was at downplaying the situation, there was no disputing the fact that spending the night in a cabin in the middle of the woods, alone with Jackson Gallway, definitely qualified as trouble.
* * * *
Daisy couldn’t stop shivering. Rain battered the roof. Dripping water splashed into a coffee tin in the corner. Despite the discomfort of sitting in damp skirts, she refused to take off her clothing. Jackson, on the other hand, had no qualms about stripping down. His fine coat and shirt hung, drying by the fire. A small towel covered his bare shoulders as he rummaged around, unabashed by his improper lack of attire.
She shivered again.
“Drink this,” he said, handing her a tin cup. “It