Wyoming Tough - Diana Palmer [39]
She didn’t speak. It would be useless. Either he’d kill her or he wouldn’t. But the bore of that rifle barrel looked ten inches wide as she stared down it. She lifted her hands and waited.
But surprisingly, he didn’t shoot. He lowered the gun. “Where did Tank go?” he asked suddenly.
“T…tank?”
“Tank Kirk,” he said curtly. His blue eyes were dark and glittery.
“That wasn’t Tank. It was Cane.” She faltered. “He just came to offer to ride the fence line with me, because there’s an escaped murderer on the loose.”
“Murderer,” he scoffed. “It was an accident. The idiot fell into a brick wall and his even more idiotic girlfriend lied and said I did it deliberately. Getting even, because I knew what she was and I wanted no part of her.”
She lowered her hands slowly. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. “You’re Joe Bascomb.” She faltered.
“Yes, unfortunately.” He sighed. He stared at her. “Have you got anything to eat out here? I’m so sick of rabbit and squirrel—bad time of year to eat either. They’re not really in season. But a man gets hungry.”
“I have a biscuit left. No coffee, I’m sorry, but I have a bottle of water.” She offered both.
He put down the rifle and ate the biscuit with odd delight, closing his eyes on the taste. “Mavie must have made these.” He sighed. “Nobody cooks like she does.” He finished it off in a heartbeat and washed it down with half the bottle of water.
Morie watched him with open curiosity. He didn’t act like a murderer.
He noted her gaze and laughed shortly. “I wasn’t going to end up in a maximum-security prison while my lawyer spins out appeal after appeal. I hate cages. God, I hate cages! To think I could ever end up like this because of some spiteful, vicious woman…!”
“If you’d had a good defense attorney, he could have taken her apart on the witness stand,” she returned.
“My attorney is from legal aid, and they come in all sizes. This one’s meek and mild and thinks that women have been victimized too much in courts, so she wouldn’t say anything to hurt my accuser’s feelings.”
“You should have asked the judge to appoint someone else.”
“I did. They couldn’t get anyone else to volunteer.” He sighed heavily and ran a restless big hand through his hair. “She did say she’d appeal. I think she finally realized that I was innocent, after I’d been convicted. She said she was sorry.” He glared at Morie. “Sorry! I’m going to get the needle, and she’s sorry!”
“So am I,” she said gently. “The justice system usually works. But people are the odd element in any trial. Mistakes get made.”
“You’d know this, how?” he asked, but with a smile.
“My uncle is a state supreme court judge,” she replied. “In Texas.”
His eyebrows arched. “Impressive.”
She smiled. “Yes, it is. He used to work for legal aid and donate time, when he was younger. He still believes everyone is entitled to proper representation.”
“I wish he sat on the bench in Wyoming,” Bascomb replied sadly.
“You should turn yourself back in,” she advised. “This is only going to make things worse for you.”
“They couldn’t get much worse,” he replied. “I lost my wife last year. She died of a heart attack. She was only twenty-nine years old. Who dies of a heart attack at twenty-nine?” he exclaimed.
“There was a football player at my high school who dropped dead on the playing field at age seventeen of an unknown heart problem,” Morie replied. “He was a sweet boy. We all mourned him. People get all sorts of disorders at young ages. You don’t think of little children having arthritis, either, do you? But some grammar-school kids have rheumatoid arthritis that limits them in all sorts of ways. Kids also have diseases like diabetes. We don’t only get things wrong with us when we’re old.”
“I guess so. It’s not a perfect world, is it?” he added.
She shook her head.
He finished the bottle of water. “Thanks. I’ve been going by my mom’s place for food, but they’ve got people watching it. I don’t want her to suffer for what I’ve done. I’ve been