In the Arms of the Law (Harlequin Superromance, No 759)

154 Pages·1997·1.46 MB·English

by  Anne Marie Duquette

In The Arms Of The Law
IN THE ARMS OF THE LAW
by
Anne Marie Duquette
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anne Marie Duquette, daughter of a Colorado wilderness expert and
granddaughter of a Rocky Mountain miner, has always been in love with
the great Southwest.
Anne Marie, whose husband has Native American ancestors, feels that
preserving the Southwesrs history is as important as preserving the
land and its wildlife. She takes her children to as many historic
sites as possible and once arranged for the whole family to spend
Christmas break Tombstone, Arizona. While researching the history of
silversmithing and turquoise mining, Anne Marie---a silversmith
herself--was captivated by the stories about the "fighting Earp
brothers." These famous Southwestern heroes inspired her Tombstone
trilogy for Superromance.
Her first Tombstone novel was Wyatt Earp Bodine's story, She Caught the
Sheriff, released in July 1996. In the Arms of the Law features
youngest brother Morgan Bodine and his romance with Jasentha
Cliffwalker. Anne Marie is now working on Virgil's story, which will
be published by Superromance in the spring of 1998. Watch for it!
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that
this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and
destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher
has received any payment for this'stripped'book. "
ISBN 0-373-70759-2
IN THE ARMS OF THE LAW
Copyright 1997 by Anne Marie Duquette.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utiliztioof this work In whole or in part in any form by any
electronic, mechanical or other mesas, now known or hereafter invented,
including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written
permission of the publisher, Harlequin Ente6)rises Limited, 225 Duncan
Mill Road,
Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination
of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the
same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books SA.
Sacred Bat . flew to me,
From the darkness of the cave. Womb-like reflections, Answers it
gave.
Birth, death, rebirth,
Cycles of the whole. Never-ending, just eclipsed,
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In The Arms Of The Law
The journey of the soul.
--Reprinted with permission from Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams and
David Carson, copyright o 1988,
Bear & Company,
Santa Fe, New Mexico.
CHAPTER ONE
TOMBSTONE'S JULY WIND blew blistering hot and desert-dry through the
rugged mountains above the Silver Dollar Ranch, but the heat was the
last thing on Jasentha Cliffwalker's mind. The injured bat in her
hand, a juvenile with a bleeding wing, squirmed in her gloved palm.
"Hey, baby, calm down!" she urged in a quiet voice. "I know it hurts,
but let's see what we have here."
The "little brown bat," its size and color giving the mammal its name,
squirmed again. The poor creature was obviously in pain and--just as
obviously-frightened.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," she told it. "Unless my dog's
making you nervous." Jasentha looked up and saw her companion, a
pitch-black German shepherd, suddenly appear from behind the desert
rocks. He was poised to attack.
"Striker! You're scaring my patient!" Jasentha told him in Nide. She
spoke English and Spanish, as well, but Nide--her native Athabaskan,
the ancient Apache tongue--was the language the animal responded to
best.
"Down, boy!" Jasentha commanded.
The young male, an abandoned ranch dog Jasentha had found half-starved
a few years ago, didn't obey.
She was instantly on the alert. "Who's out there, Striker?" she
whispered. Her brown eyes narrowed as she studied the landscape. Some
animal---either two- or four-legged--was stalking them.
Jasentha shaded her eyes with one hand and peered beyond the roomy tent
that was her year-round bedroom, office and pantry. She gazed past the
simple cook stove outside, the line for drying laundry and the old
wooden bench that functioned as chair or table, surveying the rocky
shades of beige that surrounded her.
Where are you, stranger? And what are you doing here?
The desert was home to the desert batsmand the setting-for her life's
work as an ecologist. But danger could and did threaten. Like now.
Because of Striker, she rarely had trespassers. He guarded her and the
campsite with intense devotion. Jasentha craved his company and valued
his loyalty but also needed Striker for her work. Canines had
fantastic heating and were the only mammals capable of hearing most of
the radar sounds bats made. Thanks to his intelligence and her
training, Striker could easily locate single bats for study. And he
could shred to bits anything that threatened her. "Striker?"
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In The Arms Of The Law
The dog advanced protectively to her side, legs stiff. Jasentha rose
to her feet, the bat still cradled in her hands. "Who's there? Come
out into the open!" she demanded in fluent Spanish.
No answer. This was Tombstone, home of the Old West, where even now
strangers were considered threats until proved otherwise.
She repeated her demand in English. "Identify yourself or I won't heel
the dog!"
Jasentha slipped the bat upside down into one of her shirt pockets,
making certain the clawed feet had secured themselves to the pocket
top, then reached for the long knife inside her boot. Desert-raised
Ja-sent ha Cliffwalker was an expert in survival--especially her own.
She crouched, ready to defend, but the hair on the back of Striker's
neck didn't bristle. Instead, his tail wagged, his nostrils wide open
and scenting. Jasen-that relaxed a little, but kept the knife in her
hand. A few minutes later Striker launched himself through the air.
His pounce deliberately landed short of his target; the deadly white
teeth disappeared under the wildly licking tongue. Jasentha watched as
her fierce-looking dog frolicked joyously around their visitor.
The man laughed, a sound that was both amused and triumphant. "Down,
you moose! And you, moose owner..." He tipped back his Stetson with a
callused forefinger. His gaze traveled from Jasentha's long black
shining hair, cascading over her Western shirt, down to her jeans,
boots, then to the knife in her hand.
"You're slipping, Jasentha," he said in Apache. "When we were kids you
could hear me sneaking up at twice this distance---and without any dog
to warn you, either."
"Liar!" Jasentha's welcoming smile took the sting
from her words. She quickly checked to make sure the bat was still
attached to her pocket, then slid her knife back into her boot.
"Morgan, you probably scared my patient to death!"
"But not you?"
"Never! Striker, you traitor, you could have told me earlier."
Striker whined his apology while the only other human whose familiarity
he tolerated scratched his ears. But Jasentha's attention wasn't on
her dog. It was on the lawman before her--Tombstone's acting sheriff,
Morgan Earp Bodine.
"Hello, Morg," she said in English, switching to his native
language--not because he couldn't understand Spanish or Nidt, but out
of habit. They'd been friends and classmates since childhood, and
English was the language they'd grown up with in school.
"Jasentha." Morgan touched his thumb and forefinger to the brim of his
hat, the traditional mark of courtesy and respect from a man to a woman
in the Southwest. "It's a been a long time," he said with a smile.
"Too long," Jasentha replied with a smile of her own.
"Sorry I missed your last trip into town for supplies." He dropped his
hand from his brim to scratch Striker's ears again. "What's it been?
Weeks? A month?"
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In The Arms Of The Law
"I don't know, but it's great to see you again. So, what's up?"
Is this visit business or pleasure? He was wearing his uniform shirt
with the sheriff's star and carrying his pearl-handled revolver, a
Colt45. This gun was an official law-enforcement firearm, a reminder
of the Old West and the hard-edged men and women who'd survived in
it.
"I was in the area. Thought I'd stop by, say a quick hello. Can't
stay long but" he shrugged and Jasentha felt a twinge of disappointment
"--duty calls."
Uh-otr Does that mean something's wrong ? Still,
it couldn't be too serious. If any danger was pressing, Morgan would
have said so.
"Thanks for coming by, anyway." A real affection for Morgan and his
family prompted her to ask, "How's your sister-in-law doing?"
"Caro's hanging in there, I'm happy to say. But Wyatt's a nervous
wreck." Morgan removed his hat by the crown--a true Westerner never
used the brim--and dropped it onto her bench.
"It's understandable, what with Caro's prenatal complications. Ever
since that first hemorrhaging episode..." Jasentha's voice trailed
off, for Morgan himself had told her how Sheriff Wyatt Bodine had
nearly lost both his wife and his child. And Tombstone, with its mere
1200 residents, had no major hospiud.
"Wyatt hasn't left his wife's side since. I don't know when he's
coming back to work. He's been driving her back and forth to her
specialist in Phoenix."
"Why not Tucson? It's so much closer!"
"Caro's from Phoenix, remember? She wants her own doctor."
"Well, you can't blame her for that."
"No, but it seems they're up there more often than they're here. It's
got to be hard--that long drive there and back.,"
"It's worth it if Caro's complications are kept under control. She's
only a month away from delivering. She'll end up with a healthy baby
in her arms yet. Mother and child will be fine. You'll see."
"If Wyatt doesn't drive the rest of us crazy before then." They both
sat down on her" bench, Morgan watching as she examined the bat. " I
understand his being worried about Caro. But he's worried about me
taking over his job, and there's no reason for it. "
Jasentha hid her grin at the pique in her friend's pride. "Of course
there isn't. Virgil and Wyatt were training you for chief deputy while
you were practically still in grade school. If it was legal, you
would've been doing the job years ago."
"Try telling Wyatt that, He still thinks of me as the little
brother."
At twenty-five, Morgan was the youngest of the three Bodine brothers
who owned and ran the Silver Dollar Arabian horse ranch. But Morgan
certainly wasn't inexperienced. Virgil, Wyatt and Morgan had all gone
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In The Arms Of The Law
into some form of law enforcement. Virgil, the oldest, was a private
bodyguard in Hollywood, while Wyatt was Tombstone's sheriff.
Morgan Earp Bodine had been Tombstone's head deputy, first to Virgil,
then to Wyatt until Wyatt had temporarily stepped down from his
lawman's duties to spend more time with his wife, forensic scientist
Dr. Caro Hartlan. She'd contentedly settled into life on the Silver
Dollar Ranch. Wyatt insisted on remaining close to Caro and had taken
over Morgan's share of the ranching so that Morgan could take over the
bulk of Tombstone law-enforcement duties.
"Maybe he's afraid you want to keep his job, Sheriff," Jasentha
teased.
Morgan groaned. "Heaven forbid. And please, skip the " Sheriff" bit.
It's always been Morg to you."
That it had, Jasentha remembered. Even when we were children and i
lived on your ranch as the daughter of your master-of-horse. Her gaze
swept appreciatively over him.
Like his brothers, Morgan was over Six feet tall and had the light
brown hair, blue eyes and lean wiry build of all the Bodine men. But
there the resemblance ended. Virgil moved as fast as a mountain
cougar, while Wyatt was a bundle of blatantly coiled strength. Morgan,
however, moved with a slow masculine grace that was both deceptive and,
at times, deadly. Like his brothers, he could instantly change into a
formidable enemy--or a powerful ally. "Like what you see?" he asked
suddenly.
Jasentha started. Maybe she'd been a little too appreciative. "What
kind of question is that?"
"I've seen that look from women before, but not from you. Not in
years, anyway."
"What look?"
"The last time I saw you look at me that way was in high school."
"That was more than ten years ago, Morgan!"
"Which makes it even more of a shock. You took me by surprise
there."
That makes two of us. "Guess I have been up here
by myself for a long time," she managed to say lightly.
"A little too long," he murmured.
"Maybe, but I haven't forgotten my manners." A quick change of subject
was in order. "Let me get you a drink," she offered, the centuries-old
rule of civility for any desert dweller. Not to ask would signal the
end of a friendship--and in the old days it could mean the end of a
life. She gestured to her fifty-gallon water dram before heading
toward her tent.
He patted his canteen. "I'm all set, thanks."
"I need to get my first-aid kit," she said. Striker watched her
alertly, ears and tail perked, not wanting to leave Morgan, but ready
to follow her at her command. With the experience of long familiarity
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In The Arms Of The Law
Jasen-that read the dog's body language. It's okay, Striker. I'm not
offended. I know we don't get much company. "Stay, boy. Make
yourself comfortable, Morgan. I'll be right back."
She gestured to her pocket, then hurried to retrieve the kit and return
to the bench. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Jasentha
sat down again and withdrew her winged patient. She was careful to let
the claws attach to her still-gloved finger. She knew that any bat,
even an injured one, was more comfortable hanging when it wasn't
flying.
"So ... I'm still puzzled by that, uh, speculative look you gave me,
Jasentha. What was it about?" Morgan studied her as she inspected the
bat's damaged wing.
"The membrane's been torn. It should heal. And that look wasn't about
anything."
"Come on, Jasentha. It was the way you looked at me when we dated in
high schoolmuntil our parents put an end to it."
"Come on yourself, Morgan. I already told you're that was a long time
ago. We were different people then. Kids. Anyway, Morg, give me some
credit. The woman you wanted to marry died less than a year ago. Even
if I was interested, I'd like to think I'm sensitive enough not to make
a conscious play for a grieving man."
"You are, but who says I'm still grieving?" "Aren't you?"
"Not anymore." He hovered close by, ready to help if she needed it.
"Is the wing broken?"
"No. I'll clean it up, dust it with antibiotics if there's any
infection, then hang him in my bat box." The box, a sheltered area
with perches, allowed the bat to eat and drink safely while healing.
"Don't worry," she murmured, unable to resist a little sarcasm. "There
won't be any more come-hither looks, I promise."
"I was surprised, not worried. After all, you were my first big
romance."
Jasentha glanced up, startled. "Td hardly call a few dates a big
romance."
"I thought it was at the time. Didn't you?"
Jasentha shifted uneasily. "Like I said, we were kids. We grew out of
it."
"So I thought. Until a few moments ago."
"You're an attractive man, Morgan." I was just. noticing.
"And you're an attractive woman who hasn't dated since high school.
Since me."
"Grab me my kit, would you, please? I like to work with it up on the
bench." Jasentha gestured toward her feet, where she'd left her
first-aid kit. The bat squirmed, and Jasentha gentled him under
Morgan's gaze. "Is there a point to all this?"
"The point is, I'm worried about you up here all alone. Is it because
of my father? I know he forbade me to date a Nide woman, but"
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In The Arms Of The Law
"Morgan, don't be ridiculous! My parents didn't want me dating someone
who wasn't Apache. Your father and my father--they both wanted us to
be With people of our own kind."
"All that business about' similar backgrounds." Which really meant
that the help's daughter couldn't mix with the boss's son. Oh, yeah,
our fathers had it all figured out. "
Jasentha was surprised to hear the trace of bitterness in his voice.
True, her father, Rogelio, had worked even then as the Silver Dollar's
master-of-horse, and Morgan's parents had both been alive.
"Those were ... different times, Morgan. Anyway, it's in the past.
We're still friends, despite them all. Why bring it up now?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I think about those old days, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," she found herself admitting. She quickly recovered. "But
now you have a career and a ranch to run, and I have my bats. Thanks
to you."
Bodine mountains. Bodine caves. Bodine bats. All Silver Dollar
property now. The Bodine home had once been a stronghold of the
Nidt--The People. Her ancestors were also known by their Zuni name,
apachu"--the others, the enemy," or the conquistador's mangled Spanish
version, Apache. History had many names for her people. Jasentha had
her own name for herself--a woman without land.
That was where Morgan came in. To him she was simply "Jasentha." To
her alone he had generously extended the unrestricted use of his landa
privilege that had been offered to no other person not related by
marriage or birth in the hundred-plus years of the Bodine family
This was no small favor. In fact, it was a great honor. Like their
ancestors, the Bodines were generous with their time, money and
charity, but firmly drew the line at some things. They never ever
shared their land with outsiders--save for Jasentha, the solitary
exception to the rule, That left Tombstone's small-town grapevine to
wonder exactly what kind of relationship she and Morgan shared.
The answer was a close but platonic one, cemented by a particular
bond--an intimate knowledge of and intense love for the: land. Every
generation of Bo-dines had been deeply committed to the Silver Dollar
Ranch; the current generation was no different. Of the three brothers,
though, Morgan felt the greatest passion for the desert itself. The
desert was no barren savage land to him or Jasentha. It was a land
full of life, beauty and history, with wide-open skies of brilliant
turquoise, flamed to warmth by a brilliant sun
shining through the pure wilderness air. The desert was their
paradise.
And their friendship had remained as sturdy, unshaken and comfortably
predictable, as their love for the landmuntil now.
"Morgan, can we please forget the romance analysis?" she asked. "I do
have a patient to tend." She was proud of the control that allowed her
voice to remain as calm as her fingers. She gently began to clean the
damaged wing.
The bat reacted instantly, and Morgan commented, "Nice set of teeth.
You sure it's a good idea to spend so much time here?"
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In The Arms Of The Law
"I have to. You know that. Because of my research and rescue work
with bats."
"Is it just because of the bats? Or is it the solitude?"
"Are you back in the marriage market?" she asked with the blunt
familiarity of close friends. "Because if you are, take me out of the
lineup. I have no intention of being anyone's rebound choice."
Morgan's eyes narrowed at her response. "Wanting to know why you're
spending your whole life in these caves doesn't mean I have ulterior
motives. I'd like to think I'm sensitive enough never to treat you
as... as leftovers."
Jasentha flushed. "Then it's my turn to apologize. But why the sudden
interest?"
"Because I think there's more to your job than just an interest in bats
or ecology. Is there something here that I don't know about?"
Jasentha hid her surprise. Morgan had her dead to rights. There is.
But it's a secret.
As a child she'd discovered three sets of petroglyphs deep inside
Bodine caves--petroglyphs that had been left for The People's eyes
only. She'd told her father and brother about them, but not Morgan.
The land might be his, but the heritage was hers. Until recently, bat
guano--excrementmhad kept the petroglyphs mostly buried and safe from
Morgan's eyes. Safe from anyone's eyes. She'd often thought about
telling him, wanted to tell him, but the right moment had never come.
Anyway, it wasn't as if he spent much time in the caves. Morgan had
deserted their childhood playground years ago. There's a lot more in
these caves than you know, Morgan. But now is not the time.
"Let me guess. You aren't going to tell me."
I have too many secrets in my life, she thought sadly. Secrets I can't
share, even with my closest friend Even with Morgan.
The bat nipped her hard, teeth sharp against the protective glove.
"Hey, watch out there!" Morgan warned.
tasentha put her mind back on her work. "It's okay. He's scared. And
hurt."
"I know they're usually quite docile."
"Yep. Although most people don't believe it. My poor bats have a bad
reputation. Entirely undeserved, I might add. Open that wet swab for
me, will you?"
Morgan obliged. Carefully Jasentha cleaned the bleeding edge of
membrane--torn, she suspected, by either a hawk or an owl.
"Here you go." Their eyes met as he passed her the swab. "I worry
about you, Jasentha. Even bats go home to sleep with their families.
But for you to spend your life alone seems like such a..." His voice
trailed off and he shook his head.
"Strange choice? I'll match my bats against your horses for
intelligence any time," Jasentha replied tartly, well aware that her
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In The Arms Of The Law
response was irrelevant, that it had nothing to do with the concern he
was expressing.
"I wasn't going to say strange, Jasentha. I was going to say such a
waste. Your life's too solitary." He looked at her closely. "Don't
forget you have an open invitation to stay at the ranch, either in your
father's cabin or in one of your own. There's no reason for you to
camp up in the mountains during winter or to run off to Texas."
"Yes, there is, Morgan. Hibernation studies are extremely important
for species preservation--I'm sure I've told you that before. Besides,
my presence helps protect them from intruders. As for Texas, you know
that's where Bat Conservation International headquarters are. Winter's
the only free time I have to catch up on the latest research. Anyway,
I've only been doing this for four years."
"You could do all that research here--if you really wanted to."
"Thanks, Morgan, but no. I can't."
"That's what you always say. Don't you get lonely?"
"Doesn't everyone?" Jasentha threw the soiled swab onto the cold fire
pit; she tried to leave as little trash to carry out as possible.
"Sometimes. But I have family and friends--a whole town full of people
to keep me company. You never seek out people, not even your father,
nor do they seek you. As far as I know, I'm the only one who does."
"My work's important!" she said more fiercely than she'd intended.
"Without bats to pollinate the blossom, the saguaro can't reproduce.
The saguaro is our keystone tree. Without it, this desert ecosystem
would completely collapse!"
That was all true and the bats" role in sustaining desert life was of
paramount importance to her, But there were also the petroglyphs. As
long as she kept the bats safe, they would keep some of her heritage
safe. It was a rare gift bestowed by a way of life that required many
sacrifices.
"Bats are important to the land and beneficial to us," she insisted.
"Why, this species alone can consume" --'
"Six hundred mosquitoes in an hour. I know. I'veheard your workshops.
I'm talking about you, not the bats. Need another swab?"
"Please."
He reached for a swab and handed it to her. Ja-sent ha nodded her
thanks as she cleaned the wing a final time, then inspected her work.
The torn edges seemed free of dirt and infection'. The bat had calmed
down, too.
"You need more emotional connections in your life--with people, not
just with your bats!"
"Morgan, I've made my choice. Let's just leave it at that, shall
we?"
"For now."
Jasentha didn't like the sound of that. Everyone around here knew that
the only people more stubborn than the Cliffwalkers were the Bodines.
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In The Arms Of The Law
She stood up and carried the bat to the box, making sure fresh water
was easily available inside. Most bats drank nectar, or they drank
from a body of water, lapping it up as they skimmed the surface. She
didn't want her patient dehydrated. As for food, she'd check her bug
traps later, after the bat had set-fled in. "
"No antibiotic?" Morgan asked. Jasentha re-packed the kit while
Morgan made sure all waste was anchored inside her fire pit with rocks,
protected from the strong desert winds.
"It's best to let nature do the healing whenever possible. This little
guy will lick his wounds and nurse himself once he realizes it's
safe."
Jasentha brought the kit back to her tent. Morgan had finished with
the trash when she returned. "You're wearing your uniform. Care to
tell me why you're really here--aside from friendship? Is there a
problem?"
"Maybe, may he not. I've spotted a trespasser." "Local?"
"Can't say for sure. He doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger. In
fact, he refused my help when I offered it. But'his expression spoke
volumes "--Jaz, he's climbing that section of cliff directly above the
Silver Dollar Mine."
"Not that deathtrap!" The brittle rock-slide area over the old silver
mine was one she'd alerted locals to avoid.
"I'm afraid so."
"He's bound to get stuck--if he doesn't fall first!"
Morgan nodded. "I figure sooner or later our trespasser will need us.
You're the expert on the cliffs. I left two men there to keep an eye
on him, but he's already in trouble..."
"You want me to guide him safely down."
"If you're up to it. The town'll pay you, as always."
"I'm game. Let's go." She turned to the dog, who lay quietly in the
shade of a boulder. "Striker, stay. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She stood up and so did Morgan. Jasentha watched Morgan Bodine's
easygoing persona change into the all-business formidable lawman--a
profession that made the Bodines as much a part of modern Tombstone as
their namesakes, the Earps, had been in days of old.
"Follow me," he ordered.
CHAPTER TWO
THE DESERT WIND continued to blow over the brittle cliffs that were
part of Silver Dollar land. It brought no coolness, and Deputy Morgan
Earp Bodine and the two men beside him had sweat-dampened shirts and
shiny foreheads as they stared up at a fourth man--the climber trapped
on the crumbling ledge high above.
"Just what we need--another fool to rescue." Morgan's gaze left the
trespasser, whose reasons for being in such a dangerous area still
remained unknown. "Anyone spot Jasentha?"
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