A Man of His Word (16 page)

“Dan?” Cecil said again. The defiance was fading fast, replaced with stark terror. “Dan, please—I'm your uncle! We're kin!”

Go on,
Dan thought.
I want you to beg.
But he didn't say it, because that wasn't what Rosebud needed to hear. He turned his attention back to her. “It's safe now,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “He can't hurt you anymore.”

A stream of curse words burst out of the old man's chest, but Dan didn't pay him any mind. He waited for Rosebud.

It was her move.

 

Even though Rosebud was behind Dan, he kept his hands on her arms, making sure she was protected. She didn't want to look. She didn't want to see if someone had been killed, didn't want to see Cecil Armstrong or Shane Thrasher. She didn't want to see any guns, and she didn't want to see if one was pointed at her or Dan.

For a fleeting, incomprehensible second, she had a powerful urge to click her heels together and say, “There's no place like home,” as if that would magically make this whole awful week disappear into thin air.

“Ms. Donnelly?” James asked, sounding very much like the lawyer he was now, not the lover he'd once been. “Are you unhurt?”

Right. James was here. Dan was here. Cecil was here, for
God's sake—unless someone had shot him. No amount of ruby-red slippers would whisk her away from this, so she'd better snap out of it. She let herself breathe in Dan's scent before she pushed herself away from his back. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Mr. Carlson,” she said.

On one hand, the formality was ridiculous. James had seen her naked, after all, and had probably looked at those photos to boot. On the other hand, the only other person in the world who knew that James had seen her naked was Dan. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, James Carlson and Rosebud Donnelly had gone to law school together—nothing more than that—and she was damn sure going to keep it that way.

She took a second to straighten her skirt and dust off her jacket before she stepped around Dan. That one second gave her a chance to compose herself and put on her game face, something that now felt foreign and stiff. She didn't feel like the lawyer she used to be. She didn't want to be a ball-buster anymore. Her life wasn't her case—the case was over, but she was still standing. Problem was, she didn't know what else she could do.

Well, first things first, and the first thing was to get the hell out of this courtroom. She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin as she opened her eyes. The extent of the damage immediately made her wish she hadn't. The courtroom looked like downtown Baghdad. The barrier was crumpled against the first row of spectator seats. The defendant's table was in about forty pieces. And, of course, there were a few deputies aiming guns with the safeties off.

In the middle stood James. He looked older, his hair already picking up some salt at the temples. He seemed more like a politician now, and with this sort of coup, he'd be in a position to run for office. He'd be good at that, she thought.
He smiled at her—not that anyone else could tell, but she knew that when his lips thinned like that, he was pleased. And looking around at three years of his hard work in handcuffs, Rosebud knew he was very pleased.

“Ms. Donnelly, your government thanks you for your patience in this matter,” he said, extending his hand for a formal handshake. “I want to personally thank you for your cooperation.”

“I expect justice to be served,” she said, feeling the barest hint of warmth spread from his hand to hers. He'd never loved her, that she knew. But he'd cared for her. And as he patted the top of her hand, she knew that he still cared for her. “I held up my end of the deal. May I safely assume you held up yours?”

He gave her hand a squeeze, which had the same effect as a comforting hug. “The site was live for one minute before I took it down personally,” he replied. “No one saw.”

Rosebud felt herself breathe for the first time in what felt like days. “I expect it to stay that way.”

“Absolutely.” He glanced toward Dan, the look on his face somewhere between jealous and all business as he gave her hand one last squeeze.

Rosebud got the hint. She turned to Dan and held out her hand. Without hesitation, he laced his fingers with hers and stepped up until he was standing hip-to-hip with her. Immediately, she felt his warmth surround her. She felt safe with him beside her—like nothing bad could happen. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as she said, “Have you met Dan Armstrong?”

“Not in person. Mr. Armstrong,” James said as the two men shook hands. “The Department of Justice owes you a debt of gratitude for everything you've done here.”

Rosebud couldn't help but notice that the grip went on a little too long—and that both men were clenching their jaws.
Men, she thought with an inner snort of disgust. Even so, she felt a little flattered, in a primeval sort of way.

A strange noise drew her attention away from Dan and James. It sounded like someone was strangling a cat.

“You did this?” Ah. Cecil Armstrong was all but blue in the face as he sputtered.
“You?”

In a flash, Rosebud didn't so much
see
as
feel
the victory. After three long years, justice was served. A sense of righteous power flowed through her. She'd won. All it had cost her was…everything. Her brother, her life for all those years, her dignity…

The righteousness was short-lived. So she'd won.

Now what?

Then Dan settled his hand around her waist and pulled her in close. “We had a deal, Carlson.”

“So we did.” James's eyes cut from Dan back to Rosebud. “You have my word.”

Dan shook his hand again as Cecil went from bluish to a bruised purple. Not that Dan noticed. He was focused on James. “Do you need either of us for anything else?”

“I think we're good. We've got the box.”

“You!” Cecil was stuck on the one word, apparently. Good, Rosebud thought. He could just be stuck—for the rest of his life. He went well past conniption fit and into hysterics.

Dan had been working
with
James. He'd been working
against
Cecil. Somehow, in the midst of her embarrassment and turmoil, she'd gotten things wrong. Dan hadn't set her up—far from it. He'd been with her the whole time. He'd stuck to the plan, just like he'd said he would. After all, he was a man of his word. The back of her neck flushed hot.

“Where can I reach you?” James asked, also ignoring the impotent old man in shackles. Because that's what Cecil was now. Dan was right. Cecil Armstrong couldn't hurt her anymore, not as long as Dan was by her side.

Dan let go of her waist long enough to fish out his card. Two, actually. “That's my cell, and the other one is Betty Armstrong's home number. She's my mother. You can reach me and Rosebud there.”

“Wait, what?” His mother was in Texas. Suddenly, Rosebud didn't know what was happening again.

Dan looked down at her and grinned. His hand wrapped around hers. Rosebud felt the flush spread all the way down her back. “I promised her I wouldn't marry you before she met you, so I thought we'd better get that out of the way, real quicklike.” He turned his attention back to James. “We can go to Texas, right?”

Dan was going take her to meet his mother. He was going to marry her—real quicklike. “If you want to go to Texas,” he added, his voice dropping several notches as his fingers tightened around her hand. “Do you want to go with me?”

James regarded them both with a stern eye. “Ms. Donnelly, we will not be pressing charges against Dan Armstrong. We believe he had no knowledge in
any
of Cecil Armstrong's illicit activities.”

Somewhere in the next world, Tanner was nodding with approval.

Dan hadn't known about the photos. Dan had nothing to do with that awful website. Dan, she knew now, deep in her soul, hadn't set her up.

Dan wanted to marry her.

James cleared his throat. “Ms. Donnelly, do you want to go to Texas with Mr. Armstrong?” Nothing like a little cross-examination during the most important moment of her life.

Everyone in what remained of the courtroom stood silent. Even Cecil Armstrong was quiet, his mouth wordlessly opening and shutting as the world waited on her answer.

“Come with me,” Dan whispered. “Just you and me. Dan and Rosebud. That's all I want. That's all I've ever wanted.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

She closed her eyes and breathed. Sandalwood and musk— Dan's scent—filled her nose. Her hand found his chest and she felt his heart pounding. She knew if she leaned forward just a little, she'd be able to taste his breath with a kiss.

She leaned against Dan's chest, letting a flush steal over her body.

Just Dan and Rosebud.

Right now, that was all she wanted, too.

“Mr. Carlson, if you need me, I'll be in Texas.”

I
n December, Shane Thrasher pled guilty to first-degree manslaughter, among other charges, and was sentenced to twenty-five years in jail, with the possibility of parole. In exchange for his plea, he testified about the work he'd done for Cecil Armstrong for four years. He was on the stand for six days.

Almost a year later, Cecil Armstrong was convicted of racketeering, bribing officials and conspiracy to commit murder, among other charges. He was sentenced to thirty-five years in prison without the possibility of parole, which, given the fact that he was seventy-three at the time, amounted to a life sentence. An audit of his books had revealed he'd misappropriated millions of Armstrong Holdings' funds in his pursuit of beachfront property in the middle of South Dakota. However, he never offered up any justification for his actions.

The only member of the Armstrong family in court that day was Betty Armstrong. She held hands with Emily
Mankiller as the sentence was handed down. Both women were escorted from the courtroom by Thomas Yellow Bird and offered no comment to the throngs of reporters waiting outside.

The sensationalist nationwide coverage of the trial led to a measurable uptick of visitors to the Historic Bonneau Homestead and Museum, former headquarters of Armstrong Hydro. The museum's curator and caretaker, Maria Villerreal, reported that, on average, a hundred visitors a day were coming to listen to her tours. Her sons made pocket money selling homemade cookies and lemonade. On the day her former boss was sentenced, no fewer than thirty reporters crowded the house. Maria gave them all brownies, but not a comment on the trial or her current employers.

Dan Armstrong was too busy to attend the trial, except on days when he was called to testify. He divided his time between Armstrong Petroleum in Witchita Falls, Texas, and Armstrong Hydro in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. At the time of the sentencing, he was busy supervising construction of the Red Creek dam, a run-of-river dam on the Dakota ten miles south of the Red Creek Indian reservation. The Red Creek tribe owned half the dam, and more than half of the workers were members of the tribe. Joe White Thunder was out there with them, swinging a hammer in time like he was beating a drum.

Rosebud Armstrong chose to avoid the lengthy trial entirely. Instead, she focused her efforts on joining an ongoing multitribal lawsuit against the Bureau of Indian Affairs for mismanagement of tribal funds. The case had already made it through the U.S. Court of Appeals on its way to the Supreme Court, where Rosebud became the first woman from her tribe to argue—and win—a case before the High Court. She discovered a renewed passion for the law, now that her
life no longer depended on the outcome. She began to enjoy herself again.

After that sweeping victory, she took some doctor-ordered time off. On the day they led Cecil away in shackles, she sat in the nursery of the new ranch house that overlooked the Dakota River and finished Tanner's baby quilt. Lewis's was already on the crib. The twins were due in two weeks, but given how much they kicked, she hadn't been sure she'd make it. At first, the bed rest had driven her nuts. But she'd taken up her needle and thread again, rediscovering a part of her that she'd thought she'd lost.

She was happy here in this new home built on neutral territory, just Dan and Rosebud. Her family was close by, and they made frequent trips to Texas. It had become all she'd ever wanted.

Soon enough, though, it would be Dan and Rosebud and Tanner and Lewis.

She was more than happy here.

She was home.