“I went to take him his lunch at the blacksmith shop,” Miguel rushed on, “but they said he’s been locked in a cell since last night.”
“Last night?” Anita echoed. “How can that be? We left the infirmary and came straight home…unless Andreas didn’t go to bed after all and left the house—”
“Yes, his boss, Mr. Weaver, told me there was a fight at the Red Dog Saloon—a big fight! It took Sheriff Logan and all of his deputies to break it up, and Mr. Andreas was hauled away with the bad men that started it.”
“Miguel, get the carriage!” Her face aflame, Ingrid followed the young man into the foyer while Anita hastened after her.
“What are you going to do, Ingrid?”
“Why, get our brother out of jail! Surely Joshua—Sheriff Logan—made a mistake. Andreas has never done anything like this in his life!”
“I’m coming, too!”
Ingrid didn’t argue with her younger sister, both of them grabbing their bonnets from wooden pegs and hurrying out the front door.
* * *
“When are we going to get some food around here, Sheriff? Are you intending to starve us?”
Seated in a swivel chair, Joshua kept his back turned to the iron-barred cells lining one side of the jail, his feet propped on the desk and his hat settled low over his eyes.
To the half dozen men occupying those cells, he might have appeared to be dozing, but he was wide awake, just biding his time.
“Sheriff! Did you hear me?” shouted Cain Sutherland, his gravelly voice laced with outrage. “My brother and I and my men haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday!”
“You should have thought of that before you came into town looking for trouble. Sign the confession that you started the fight at the Red Dog, and agree to pay for all the damages, and I’ll think about sending out for some beans and rice.”
“We’re not responsible for the damages! I already told you that big, dumb Norskie came at us first—”
“That’s because you don’t have the good sense to keep your mouth shut when a man’s minding his own business and enjoying a drink,” Joshua countered, glancing over his shoulder at the furthest cell where Andreas lay stretched out on a cot, staring silently at the ceiling.
Joshua wanted to let him go home; he imagined by now that his sisters had heard their brother was in jail, but he needed a confession from the Sutherlands before he would release anyone. So far the two instigators had been as stubborn as mules, but hunger was a powerful tool in getting a man to confess to his misdeeds.
“I don’t want any blasted beans and rice, anyway,” Cain muttered. “I wouldn’t feed that slop to my dogs. You get us thick juicy steaks, Sheriff, and maybe Connor and I will come around to signing your piece of paper. What do you think, little brother?”
If Connor, as swarthy and unshaven as Cain, uttered a word, Joshua didn’t hear it, lunging to his feet as Ingrid burst through the jailhouse door in a flutter of yellow calico and indignation.
“Sheriff Logan, there must have been some mistake! Where’s my brother?Andreas!”
Joshua groaned inwardly to see Anita hard upon her sister’s heels, and expected any moment for her to burst into noisy tears as she had at the infirmary. Instead, both young women stopped cold as the men occupying the middle cells—a rough-looking bunch even before their bruised faces, cut lips, and blackened eyes—rushed forward to grip the iron bars and leer at them.
“Hey, Hagen, if I’d known you had such pretty sisters, I would have bought you a drink instead of insulting you,” Cain taunted Andreas, who had jumped up from the cot and stared in dismay at Ingrid and Anita.
“What are you doing here? Go home, I’m fine!”
“Good advice,” interjected Joshua tightly, not liking at all how the Sutherlands and their three unsavory companions were ogling Ingrid and Anita. Gripped by fierce protectiveness, he took them both by the arm and ushered them outside, not surprised that they didn’t resist him. Their faces gone pale, the two had clearly been made uncomfortable by the unwelcome male attention.
Especially Ingrid, whose distress was written plainly in her lovely eyes, pinned on him now.
“Joshua, please, my brother…”
Hearing her say his name again so softly made his breath seem to still, but he shook his head at her. “I can’t release him until the Sutherlands sign a confession that they caused the ruckus, otherwise they’ve got witnesses saying Andreas rushed at them.”
“He would never start a fight! It’s not like him at all.”
“I know. They egged him on, saying who-knows-what to him. It shouldn’t be much longer. If they want to eat, they’ll sign the paper and be done with it. I’ll bring Andreas home as soon as they do.”
Joshua didn’t give them a chance for any argument or discussion, but steered them firmly to their carriage. He helped up Anita first, and then took Ingrid’s small hand to assist her onto the upholstered seat. She didn’t let go, instead holding fast to him, a tremor in her voice.
