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“How would you even know how long he’s been gone when you’ve been gone so long, yourself?” Sheriff Nolan asked with a growl. “Where’ve you been, Red, since the prison breakout? Who’ve you been with?”
Elizabeth stiffened. Even though she had expected him to ask her these questions, it did not make it any easier for her. If she answered them wrong, she knew what the consequences would be.
“Where have I been?” Elizabeth said, fighting not to stammer.
“More to the point, I want you to identify the man who knocked me unconscious just before the breakout,” Sheriff Nolan said, taking a threatening step toward her. His large boot toppled the sand castle. “I know you had to see the culprit. You were there, damn it. Now you identify him to me.”
“I can’t,” Elizabeth said, her voice breaking. “I . . . just . . . can’t.”
He reached behind him and took a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, and before Elizabeth could even blink, he had her wrists handcuffed together. “You leave me no choice but to take you into custody,” he said gruffly.
“What?” Elizabeth said, gasping. “You have no right. I am innocent!”
“You’re no more innocent than Four Winds who escaped the hangman’s noose,” Sheriff Nolan said, yanking Elizabeth close to him as he pushed his face into hers. “You were in on the plot from the start, weren’t you? You were used as a diversional tactic for the one who planned the escape. Why else did you disappear at the same time? Why else are you home now, safe and sound, as though nothing happened? A few nights in jail will change your mind about confessing the full truth. It will loosen your tongue, all right.”
He straightened his back and jerked her to his side as he turned to walk up the hill to his horse. But he was stopped when he found Frannie there, a shotgun leveled at him.
“You let my Elizabeth go,” Frannie said breathlessly. “I sees you come to the beach. I sees you place handcuffs on my little girl. Now you just takes them off her again and leave. If you do, I won’t pull this trigger. If you don’t, I’ll fill your stomach full of holes.”
Elizabeth became light-headed at the sight of Frannie going up against the sheriff. Not because of her courage to defy him, but more because she was a colored person and it was dangerous.
“Frannie, put down the gun,” Elizabeth begged, cringing when Frannie determinedly took a step closer. Her eyes were wild as she peered at the sheriff. “Frannie, there is no need in you going to prison, too. I won’t be there long once Father finds out. Please, Frannie, go back to the house. Please?”
Frannie’s eyes wavered. “Honey, I can’t let this man takes you away like some . . . some . . . common criminal,” she said.
“Frannie, I’ll be all right,’ Elizabeth said softly. “It’s all a big mistake. One that Father will correct as soon as he returns with the posse. That will probably be today sometime, Frannie. I’ll be home in my own bed tonight. I promise you.”
Frannie slowly lowered the gun.
Elizabeth saw the sheriff go for the pistol at his right hip. “Please let Frannie go,” she cried. “Please don’t blame her for wanting to protect me. I’m like a daughter to her. Please forget what she did. Let her go. Please?”
Sheriff Nolan eased his hand from the pistol as he glared down at Elizabeth. “You’ve been lapse in teachin’ that fat thing her place,” he grumbled. “You’re lucky I don’t blow her damn head off.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily. Ignoring Frannie’s wails, she went with the sheriff. She had to protect Strong Heart at all cost—even if it meant the loss of her own freedom.
When t
hey reached the summit, she took a last glance over her shoulder at the remains of the castle that she had been building. When she was a child, her sand castles lasted for days.
Today’s castle had been crushed, along with her hopes for tomorrow.
Chapter 19
Some fears,—a soft regret,
For joys scarce known.
—BARRY CORNWALL
The next evening, worn and weary from the unsuccessful search, Earl rode his limping horse in a slow gait through the open gate of his estate. He peered at the monstrosity of a house. The window panes seemed to be on fire from the reflection of the sunset.
He shifted his gaze to the heavy oak front door. His shoulders slouched, knowing that if by chance Elizabeth had arrived home before him unharmed by whoever had abducted her, she would have already been at the door.
A low whinny, filled with pain, drew Earl’s attention back to his horse. He would have to put the horse out of its misery. The animal was no longer useful to him. He felt lucky that the horse had gotten him back home instead of leaving him stranded out in the wilderness after Earl and the posse had parted ways earlier in the afternoon.
The stables now in sight, Earl rode his horse slowly onward, giving a mock salute to Everett when the black groom came toward him.
Everett peered intently at the horse’s lame leg, then up at Earl. “He’s doin’ mighty poorly, Massa’ Easton,” he said, shaking his head. “Mighty poorly, indeed.”
