Caught Between Love And Duty

by Clarice Mayfield

  Half an hour later, James pushed back from the table, took off his Stetson and scratched his head thoughtfully. “You were not kiddin’ me, Georgia Warton! I ain’t been thrashed like that since Aunt Martha took a juniper switch to us as pups. Where did you learn to play chess?”

  “Our daddy taught us,” she said humbly, “and he’s a great player. Since my brothers weren’t too interested, most of his chess knowledge passed on to me, I guess. I enjoy it.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” James teased. “But I’m man enough to take a lickin’. Next time maybe I’ll do a little better. Sure glad no one was here watchin’ me get whipped so easily though.”

  Georgia was grateful for his humble and gracious attitude at losing the match. In the excitement of the moment she had completely forgotten the debutante maxim to never show up a man in anything except cooking or womanly pursuits. It had been a gamble beating the sheriff. But he seemed truly magnanimous about the loss. James McCloud appeared to be a man confident enough in his abilities and identity to accept losses without any threat to his ego. She was amazed at his attitude.

  “Best out of three?” he asked with a wink, beginning to return the pieces onto their starting positions on the board.

  “Why not? I enjoyed that first win so much I’m up for seconds.”

  “I like your spunk, girl,” he said with a grin, and lost the second match too. Once again, James didn’t seem the least discouraged.

  “Best out of five?”

  “James McCloud, you truly seem to enjoy losing at chess,” she marveled.

  “No, ma’am. I’m just biding my time, looking for your weak spot. Once I find my opening it’s game over for your winning streak.”

  And he lost again.

  * * *

  On Sunday they attended a church service in town. James didn’t usually attend service except on special occasions such as a wedding or funeral. After realizing how important Georgia’s faith was to her, however, he was glad to be an encouragement by showing his support. He put on his Sunday-go-to-meeting suit, and afterwards introduced her to many of their churchgoing neighbors.

  Georgia asked if he would like to go to the Sutton County Hotel for lunch. “Your friend, Arthur Richards, invited us to drop by when he came out to the ranch for a visit last week.”

  “Sounds like a fine idea,” James said, “I haven’t seen Arthur in awhile and you’ll get a kick out of his big mansion of a hotel. It’s a little highfalutin for my taste but the food ain’t bad at all.”

  He flicked the reins and the horses set out on the short jaunt to the establishment. Georgia was stunned by the sight of it as the hotel came into view. “Good gracious, James. It looks like a mansion in the Boston suburbs or something.”

  “Yeah, Arthur put a heck of a lot of money into building the thing. He does a good business here though. It’s kinda like a tourist attraction in Sutton County. People come here to host their weddings and such under the big chandelier. And, of course, to watch Arthur do his thing.”

  “What do you mean?” Georgia asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said with a grin.

  They mounted the steps and entered through an ornately carved front door. A maître d’ hotel greeted them as they approached the dining room. “Good afternoon! A table for two?” he inquired.

  “Yes, please,” James replied. They followed the immaculately dressed man into an equally resplendent dining room and were seated. Georgia looked up at the chandelier. James grinned at her: “Told you it was a bit highfalutin.”

  “Yes. Very highfalutin indeed,” she nodded. “Not something one would really expect to see in the middle of Sonora. But Arthur did say that he was a – how did he put it – a ‘man of culture’.”

  “Yep, that’s Arthur all right. Speak of the devil, here he comes now.”

  Richards approached their table, beaming beatifically, and announced in a grand voice: “Sheriff McCloud! Ms. Warton! So glad you dropped by!” Heads turned in their direction from all around the dining room, leaning and craning their necks to see them receive the royal welcome.

  Although he knew it was coming, James was made strangely uncomfortable by the over the top greeting. He knew his friend had a flair for the dramatic and he had seen it many times before. Arthur always liked to glory in the midst of his hotelier milieu. But today it bothered James for some reason and he didn’t know why; a fact which bothered him even more.

  Georgia, on the other hand, seemed much taken with the whole atmosphere of the place and the attention of Richards. Probably because a seamstress wouldn’t have seen many places like this, James thought, she’s probably never been in such a rich joint before. He pushed these thoughts away, however, determined to simply enjoy the moment with his woman.

  “Arthur! How are you?” he chirped gaily, shaking his old friend’s hand. “You’ve met Georgia Warton, I understand?”

  “Yes, yes, James. We had a lovely conversation out at the ranch last week. How are you, Ms. Warton?”

  “I’m well, thank you. What an exquisite hotel you have here, Arthur. You said you were a man of culture but I really wasn’t expecting something so grand in a cattle town.”

  “Thank you so much,” he said, bowing deeply to her, “that is very kind.” He turned towards James. “And you, sir, have positively lucked out once again. Not only have you again landed one of the most beautiful women to ever grace west Texas, but a woman of stellar character and manners as well. I truly envy you. And I congratulate you, my friend.” He smiled again.

  Smiled just a little too long, James thought. What was bugging him about Arthur tonight? Was he jealous of his friend’s extravagant praise for Georgia? He was just being the same old Arthur after all, putting on the hotelier airs.

  “Listen, you two,” Richards said, leaning down close to them and dropping the volume of his voice into a confidential tone, “when the day comes, I want you to hold your wedding party right here in the dining room. I insist on it! You two deserve nothing less. And I, of course, will not charge you one cent for the room. What do you say?”

  Georgia was thrilled and slightly embarrassed because not only was there no wedding date, there had been no proposal yet. “That is so generous of you to offer. Thank you so much, Arthur. Wouldn’t that be great to have our party here, if and when it happens, James?”

  “I don’t know, Georgia...” he drawled slowly, a little embarrassed also. “Like I said, this place is a little highfalutin for my taste, darlin’.”

  “That’s our sheriff for you, Ms. Warton!” Richards boomed again, his voice resuming its full hotelier volume. “Always the cowboy, through and through. Well, you two must certainly talk this through then. I will certainly respect your wishes, whenever and whatever is decided. For now, I will leave you to your meal. Enjoy! And bon appetit!”

  Richards drifted away to greet other tables in the room, and James looked annoyed. “I hate it when he lays on that French act,” he groused, shaking his head.

  “I think it’s charming,” Georgia giggled.

  “Yeah, I reckon,” he said flatly, “if you say so.” Besides Arthur’s embarrassing question and the usual French act, something else was still bugging him about his friend’s performance. Pushing the thought away again, James reached into his suit pocket to make sure that a small item he’d brought along was safely there. It was. He enclosed it in his palm, then reached across the table with his other hand and gently took Georgia’s hand. She said nothing, just smiled beautifully as they touched. For a moment they simply looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Ahem,” James said, clearing his throat, “seeing we’re talkin’ about wedding parties, Georgia, why don’t we make it official?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

  He drew his hand out of the suit pocket and held it palm up over the tabletop, then slowly opened his fingers. Georgia looked down and saw a beautifully engraved silver ring with a small diamond set in it. Her eyes began to mist with tears as
she realized what was happening. She hadn’t expected this so soon and half suspected it might not happen at all.

  “Oh, James, it’s beautiful. What does this mean?”

  “Will you marry me, darlin’?”

  “I always wanted to marry a cowboy,” Georgia said, “but a cowboy who’s a sheriff too? Of course I will!”

  “Well all right then,” he chuckled. Tears filled her eyes as James slipped the band onto her finger.

  They leaned across the table and shared a longer, more lingering kiss than the first one had been. James was ecstatic that she had accepted his proposal and the tenderness of her kiss made him forget for a moment that they were in a public place. Sparks of electricity and joy coursed through Georgia’s heart and mind at the same time. Like him, she was oblivious to all else, too.

  They were both caught by surprise when a gentle applause began from the other patrons in the dining room. Most of them had been watching the moment unfold and now offered good wishes with smiles, applause, and cheers.

  “Bravo!” someone called out. “Congratulations, Sheriff!” said another.

  Still holding hands across the table, the newly engaged couple looked around them with undisguised happiness and returned the well wishes with smiles of their own.

  8

  Monday morning rolled around and it was time for James to resume his sheriff’s duties. After breakfast he pulled Aunt Martha aside to speak to her. “Auntie, would you keep an eye on Georgia for me? After finding that gang’s hideout last week it looks like they might still be in the area, so we need to take some precautions. Don’t let her out of your sight, okay? Whoever went after David might just try taking someone else.”

  “Oh! So that’s how it is? You’re worried about your bride but not your dear Aunt Martha are you?” she teased.

  “That’s because I know how well you can handle a scattergun, Auntie. Those desperadoes wouldn’t dare get within a mile of here if they ever seen you shoot.”

  “You got that right, boy!” Martha grinned. “Don’t you worry. That bride of yours is safe here with us. David and Francisco will be around the yard today too.”

  “Thanks, Auntie,” he smiled, kissing her on the forehead, “and thanks for the breakfast.” They returned to the kitchen, where he strapped on his gun belt, checked his Colt revolver, and checked the load of the shotgun. Then he carefully propped the weapon against the wall near the kitchen counter for easy access should either of the ladies need to use it. Georgia eyed the weapon warily as James walked over to say goodbye.

  “Expecting trouble?” she said.

  “Like I said, Georgia, in this country a woman might need to shoot a gun sometimes. That gang could still be in the area so we need to take precautions. But don’t worry your pretty head. Martha here is a better hand with a shotgun than David and me put together.” He smiled, kissed her on the lips, and was gone.

  “Girl,” the older woman said, coming up to stand beside Georgia and watch her man go to work, “don’t you worry none about him. James can take care of himself. Been Sheriff of Sonora for seven years now. He knows what he’s doin’.”

  “I know, Martha. And I feel safe here with you, folks. It’s just a strange feeling not knowing who or what that gang wanted, or even who they are. And with the Comanche in the mix, shooting darts at people, the whole thing just gives me the willies.”

  “Now, now,” Martha comforted her, “no use broodin’ about it. Things will come to light sooner or later. Life goes on, don’t it? You can’t stop living just because there’s evil about.” She put an arm around Georgia’s waist. “What say we take a little trip into town today? We can pick up a few supplies for the house, maybe look at one of them catalogs at the mercantile and order a wedding dress for you.”

  The plan cheered Georgia’s heart. She hadn’t thought at all about what she would wear for the wedding.

  Yes, it’s better to focus on the positive things, the good things in life.

  “That sounds lovely, Aunt Martha!” she smiled, calling the old lady by her family name for the first time. “And we should pick out a special dress for you, too, for the wedding.”

  * * *

  In the week since David’s safe return, Sonora had slowly returned to the regular life of a bustling ranch town. Pedestrians and wagons were in abundance through the wide western streets, and the sight of a regular business day after her first impression of the place as a ghost town lifted Georgia’s spirits.

  The two women rolled in shortly after noon driving a buckboard wagon with lots of room in the back for supplies. After some leisurely browsing through the mail order catalogs at the Sonora Mercantile Emporium, then greeting a couple of customers who were eager to meet Martha’s future “daughter-in-law,” they gave the clerk a list of supplies for the ranch house. He promised to fill the order and stock their wagon within the hour.

  With some unexpected free time on their hands, the women decided to stroll over to Arthur’s hotel and enjoy a beverage in the tea room he had invited Georgia to visit.

  Upon their arrival, both ladies found the room to have a very comfortable atmosphere for a quiet chat over a cup of tea. After a few minutes Richards appeared and came over to their table.

  “Ladies! So glad you were able to drop by today. Well, what do you think? Is our tea room everything you expected it to be?”

  “It’s lovely, Arthur,” Georgia said, “and the tea is exquisite wouldn’t you say, Aunt Martha?”

  The old lady shrugged. “Fair to middlin’,” she grinned at Richards.

  “Oh, come now, Martha! You know it’s the best you’ve ever tasted in west Texas. You ladies must really try the cheesecake from the dessert menu. It’s fabulous. The sheriff isn’t with you today?”

  “He’s workin’,” Martha replied.

  “Well, please give him my regards, will you? Bon appetit and enjoy your visit! Please excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” Richards turned and left the room.

  “Isn’t this place fabulous?” Georgia said, admiring the well-appointed space around them as she sipped from a fine china cup.

  “A little high falutin for me,” Martha said, taking a sip too, “but I guess the tea ain’t bad after all.”

  * * *

  A half hour later, the main street of Sonora was suddenly in a commotion as several armed riders arrived and began shooting into the air. Bandanas disguised their faces as they whooped and shouted. Bystanders ran out of the way, scurrying toward the storefronts. Women screamed. Some saw a Comanche Indian among the gang, with a long dart pipe strapped across his back. The Indian ran his horse into the alleyway beside the Sutton County Hotel, dismounted at a side door and entered the building quickly.

  As he moved through the hallway, Blue Shadow loaded a dart into the pipe. Pausing at the doorway of the tea room, he saw the two women inside. They were both standing at the window with their backs to him, trying to see what the disturbance was about.

  Shadow took aim at the older one and with a quick puff launched the dart into Martha’s arm. It sank into her flesh and she grunted in pain. Georgia turned and said, “Martha, what is it?” Just then a second dart entered her own body as she watched Martha hit the floor. In a brief moment of terror she saw the Indian rushing toward her and then lost consciousness.

  Blue Shadow caught Georgia’s falling body and dragged her out into the hallway. A waitress from the tea room screamed as he kicked open the side door, threw the unconscious woman onto his horse, then mounted up and charged back into the street.

  Witnesses gasped as they saw the Comanche emerge from the alley with a woman’s body flopping limply on his horse. Blue Shadow let loose a blood curdling war cry, drew his revolver, and shot it into the air. Seeing that they had achieved their goal a fellow desperado shouted, “Let’s go!” and the gang spurred their horses into a gallop down the street.

  In their office near the east side of town, Leary and James had heard the shots. They gathered up their weapons qui
ckly and ran towards Main Street. By the time they arrived, however, the gang had already left. The entire incident had lasted less than five minutes. Bystanders were still in shock, standing around the scene with dazed looks on their faces. Women were crying and being comforted by their companions.

  James and Leary approached a couple of men nearest them. “What happened?” James asked.

  “Desperadoes again, Sheriff,” one man answered. “Same ones, I reckon. A Comanche was with ‘em.”

  “Anybody hurt?”

  “The Indian took a young woman away unconscious on his horse,” the other one replied.