Lawfully Admired
Ginny Sterling
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
Lawfully Gifted
Lawfully Mine
Also by Ginny Sterling
Jenna – Thank you for creating the Lawkeeper Series and being a truly wonderful friend.
To my husband, thank you for understanding me and loving me.
1
February 1867
Melissa Miller sat stunned as she listened to her mother wail desperately in the background. Dr. McGraw’s dark head shook slowly at her, indicating that her father had passed. Her young life had been filled with despair and death for most of it. As if the screams of denial from the other room weren’t enough to indicate this already? Her father had suffered for the last several years since his return from the War between the States. The pain from the injury to his leg and the constant fever he had fought, had finally claimed him.
They literally had nothing, and she felt so ungrateful right now. He wasn’t suffering anymore. Neither were they. It had killed her to watch him deteriorate in front of her very eyes. Bitterness swamped her, clenching at her heart. She didn’t realize the guilty relief that would come with his passing. They had a roof over their head; they had their health and each other. Food was there, even if it wasn’t abundant. Melissa had kept up the business for the family, in order to ease the burden on her mother.
When her father had left for the war, he promised to return quickly. Melissa’s mother, Eleanor, had taken the time to attempt to run the shop. Run it she had… into near ruin. Her mother could keep a home like no other. She could cook a meal so fine it would make the angels’ weep. Her recipes from the family had been perfected. Balancing the books or making ends meet – that had not been her forte.
At thirteen, Melissa’s father had left to do his duty for God and country. At fourteen, Melissa was now running her father’s barber shop with little help. She had grown up watching him, hiding in the background as ‘young ladies were to learn how to keep a home’. He always teased her that she would catch a man if she could cook like her mama. She could cook, but her time seemed to have been better spent with him now. There were no men to be had in town anyways. They were either married, older, much younger, or simply uninterested.
A large crate used to be slid across the floor for her to be able to reach the customer’s hair easily. Now, the crate sat in the corner as a shelf. She had grown tall and blossomed. Menfolk didn’t balk at the idea of a young girl cutting hair anymore. Nor did they protest a shave. Melissa had given free shaves for a month for two reasons: simply to prove she could do it, and practice, practice, practice!
Now, at the age of twenty, Melissa was as accomplished as any other trained barber, and her father was proud of her. The shop had maintained itself; they had a few dollars to their name, and things seemed to be going good until the reaper struck. One door closed, a window would open – or so she prayed.
Prayers that went unanswered.
His fever had spiked yesterday, and he had passed peacefully during the night. When he had been pale and sallow at dinner, she had insisted on fetching the doctor. He had refused, saying that it was indigestion. By the time she had helped him limp to the door, she had smelled the sour emanating from him. When questioned, he claimed it was time for a good soaking and that he had worked up a sweat tilling the garden for Eleanor. It was February in Texas. Nothing would be put in the soil for at least another month and if he was tilling the yard? She was a fairytale princess, and this rickety home, a grand castle.
She needed a moment to compose herself, so she could be strong. Throwing a blanket around her shoulders, she stepped outside for fresh air. It would be a long night of tears and heartbreak. Melissa was barely aware of the men who carried her father’s body out into the night towards Buchannan funeral home; she was only aware that he was gone and her mother was clawing at his body in an effort to hang on to him.
“Mother, stop it. He would want you to be strong and dignified. Ladies do not act distraught in front of others, remember? Behind closed doors you mourn. That is what you told me when my pup died.”
“It’s not the same,” Eleanor cried out through her tears in a scathing tone. The betrayal and shock in her eyes burned hot through Melissa as she felt guilty at admonishing her. It had felt like the roles had reversed long ago for them; her mother the child and she was now the adult leading them both through each day.
“I know it’s not, but loss is felt regardless of how we express it. Come, mother. Rest your eyes and we shall make arrangements tomorrow.” Melissa removed the blanket she’d tossed around her own shoulders to protect her from the cold night air. She lay it gently around her mother’s. She seemed so fragile, so lost.
“Why aren’t you crying? Don’t you realize your father is gone?”
“Mother, he was gone long ago and only a shell of him returned from the war. I did my mourning long before the war was ever lost and he came home,” Melissa told her gently, gathering her mother’s shaking frame into her arms in an effort to comfort her.
“It will be okay. I will always take care of you.”
Bitterness and helplessness made Melissa feel like an empty husk. She had seen no change in her future, no promise of hope, no faith in praying for intervention or guidance. She heard there had been talk of mailing off to invite men into town, but that only brought the worst of the worst. Desperados, bushwackers, degenerates, and slovenly men had been seen about town, ushering in a need for protection. She didn’t want to be dependent on someone like her mother had been, nor did she want to admit there was danger present. She had her father’s Colt to protect them, or die trying to.
Her father’s death and funeral had been awful. The silence, the crying, the complete shutdown she had seen in her mother was infuriating. She could understand mourning, of course, who couldn’t? But the lying daily in bed despondent, refusing to eat what little food they had? The complete abandonment of maintaining their home? It was wasteful and aggravating. Melissa wanted to run away.
She wanted a change.
Some sort of happiness, something to fill the emptiness that she felt. Some way to focus the blackening rage into something that would soothe her soul instead of crushing it. She missed laughing and smiling. Those days were long gone and each day seemed to drag by into nothingness- a great yawning void of soul-sucking depression.
Melissa had seen a few strangers come into town, but none that seemed to ‘ring her bell’ like her father used to say. She remembered those days, crawling onto a knee as he would chastise her into behaving properly for her mother while he was gone. When she had been thirteen, she’d barely comprehended what leaving for the war would entail.
All she remembered was that Father would be gone, she would be waiting, and until he returned? She was to act like a lady, be on her best behavior, and not be like those loose “nanny’s” beyond the railroad tracks that worked at the saloon. There had been a distinct difference in how you addressed women, as Melissa quickly learned.
Governesses were well respected but a nanny? Well, a nanny in Texas was another word for a lady of the night. Much to her chagrin, she had said it aloud in public that they were getting a nanny for the house to help out before the war.
That talk had Melissa apologizing to her mother for the disrespect shown to her. She had told others that a
woman of loose morals would be at the house by mistake, but instead? It would be a new governess that had the strictest code for her to learn by. She had been mortified that she had bragged about their guest coming into their home…and yet? She’d managed to run her off a few weeks after her father had left by her scandalous behavior.
It wasn’t scandalous or shameful, but more eye-opening. To learn that her father would not be coming back for some time and her mother had intended to let the shop be properly unattended? It was terrible! The second time that the monies had disappeared and word had spread that the Maypearl bank had been robbed? Fourteen-year-old Melissa had put two and two together… evicting her mother from the barbershop and showing just how headstrong she really was!
Her governess had been fired immediately by Melissa. And with her shocked mother passed out on the floor, muttering for smelling salts? It was the fastest way to save money and keep a roof over their heads. There was no protest other than the sputtering from the governess and the slamming of the door. It was ridiculous to pay the woman for her to teach her to play piano, sew and cook. Those were things Melissa could teach herself, or by paying attention to her mother, especially for the extravagance that she cost the family.
Melissa had taken over everything.
The results of that decision had made sure they had food on the table, a roof over their heads, and a meager amount of the new money held fast in their pockets. After the robbery, she had split their funds in two. Half went to the bank for safe-keeping and half was hidden away at the house. They didn’t have much and she’d be darned if it would be stored in one place! Her end goal was to make sure that her mother could be taken care of if she ever chose to be on her own. Until then, Melissa would take care of the house, even if it took a toll.
2
April 1867
Sweeping the broom over the clean floor just to pass the time, Melissa glanced over towards the funeral home out of the window of the barbershop. She had thought it comical to see the stuffy, prim, beautiful Mrs. Buchannan vomiting regularly whenever she worked on a corpse. No one else seemed to know how much it bothered her to carry on her missing husband’s role of undertaker.
Melissa knew though, and it was hidden quite well by the frigid woman. She shivered in disgust and was a bit relieved that she had not married into the undertaker’s family! She didn’t see a corpse in the back room, but Ava was there working. The windows were open, and she had them closed anytime she left.
Melissa fondly remembered attending the lavish Buchannan wedding. How angelic the bridal couple looked to her young eyes! Candles were everywhere, there were elaborate teacakes and punch, flowers, and lace creations were strewn all over the church. The thin veil had been a halo around Ava Buchannan’s dark head. Her succulent cream-colored sateen dress had been covered in flounces, as was the style.
And her husband?
Her husband had been what every young girl dreamed of! Blond, fashionable, and with a smile for everyone. His suit had been pressed with deep creases, and the silk cravat fluffed at his neck was pinned with a diamond. The two had been the epitome of what a perfect southern couple should look like. When Pastor Smith had announced, “you may kiss the bride,” it drew a cheer from the parishioners when Peter Buchannan had given a deep bow to Ava’s father first in respect, and then to young Ava.
Melissa had been awed at first, and then envious a few months later when she realized that Ava’s wedding had been one of the last weddings performed in town. The menfolk were all gone. At sixteen when Melissa should have been making her debut? She was proudly buying a chicken to feed the family. At seventeen or eighteen? Melissa should have been surrounded by beaus. Instead, she was surrounded by a stagnant town that waited… and waited… and waited for change.
Well, waiting never got anyone anything. She had attended the impromptu meeting in February. While others spoke out regarding the scandalous idea of sending off for menfolk? Melissa’s mind whirled in thought knowing the trouble that would be following. There might be a chance that it would draw attention of the new lawmen policing the frontier, the Rangers. She’d heard so many stories of the cold, calculating men that would cut down outlaws left and right in order to protect the peace. People with a carelessness for life could only add to the demise of the small town.
Lost in thought, Melissa swept the few strands of hair out of the front door onto the stoop. She walked through the barbershop, fondly looking over her father’s jars and tools, remembering how he would teach her. Putting the broom in the corner near the window, Melissa gaped at the sight next door!
Apparently, the stuffy Mrs. Ava Buchannan was in cahoots with a man! It certainly wasn’t her bridegroom from years ago who never returned from the war, because if memory served her right? Peter Buchannan was almost towheaded! His bright blond hair was near white. This man- he looked to be dark as sin. Black hair and tanned skin. A LOT of tanned skin!
Melissa nearly swallowed her tongue as she stared unabashedly at his naked body walking around the back room of the funeral home. He looked to be quite handsome from this distance, and Ava had her head buried in her hands.
Melissa clenched her broom handle and pretended it was Ava’s neck in jealously. A new handsome man in town and she got her claws in him first? That seemed so unfair to her! She had been already married and now was acting like one of the nanny’s her father had told her about! Ladies did not see men in this… this, unrobed fashion!
Looking away, Melissa realized she was also seeing him, which put her in the same category as Ava Buchannan. She couldn’t help but stare at the scene going on next door. Fanning herself, she realized it felt like it was sweltering inside the small barber shop.
“Hello?” someone called out in a deep voice.
“Oh! My apologies,” Melissa stammered, hurriedly moving herself bodily in front of the window to block the scene she had just witnessed. Horribly embarrassed, she prayed that whoever just arrived did not see the scandalous fiasco going on presently nearby. She whisked the heavier window panels closed over the sheers as inconspicuous as possible in order to prevent it. “May I help you?” she gathered herself and asked politely, finally looking up at the customer that had just walked in.
The stranger that walked in nearly filled the entire door frame, causing her to clench her teeth simply to keep her jaw from dropping once again. He was quite a bit larger than most of the older men that came in for a shave. He was also quite a bit younger and more handsome! A tarnished tin star was pinned to his vest. A Ranger! Melissa knew that the troublemakers arriving would bring the law someday.
His wide smile made her swallow nervously. Flushing, she realized he had been talking to her and she had not heard a thing. “I apologize, come again?”
“I asked if the shop was open?” he said lightly, his voice betraying a deep drawl to his voice. “The sign said barber outside and I could use a cut and a shave, if the barber is here?”
“I am the barber,” Melissa bit out and flushed again, realizing how angry it sounded. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, and most barbers were men. She was sure that he must have thought she was there only to clean. “I am the barber in town,” she began again, this time with a soft smile.
“It’s my lucky day, I reckon,” he announced easily, and sat in the lone leather chair expectantly.
“I guess so,” she agreed absently as she looked at him. Melissa’s heart hammered as she realized she might need the crate to stand on, once again, like she had when she was a girl. She stood staring at him for several minutes and then moved into action. Drawing a fresh apron over her gown, she tied it around her back idly while her mind worked.
She hadn’t seen him before! Was he one of the new arrivals? One of the Rangers? How many were here in town? She shook her head and realized that she would need to get more information from the Smith’s or from one of the other prominent families. But for now? This handsome stranger was sitting in her chair and was a captive audience.
/> “You are new in town, aren’t you?” Melissa began politely. Her hands were shaking as she draped a sheet over his clothing. Turning, she fiddled around with her scissors and combs nervously.
“I am. Just got here yesterday,”
“Well, welcome to Maypearl.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barber,” he teased.
“Oh, my name isn’t Barber and I’m not married.” Blushing, she looked away at his intense scrutiny of her. He was extremely handsome and polite.
“Well then, what is your name Miss I’m-not-married?”
“Melissa. Miss Melissa Maeve Miller.”
“M. M. M. M,” he drawled out with a wicked smile that made her heart skip a beat in shock and surprise. He was handsome and apparently awfully forward as well!
“Excuse me?” she stopped, picking up her worn bowl and horsehair bristle brush to prepare to lather his face. Was it just her or did it suddenly feel quite stuffy in the room? Her face felt like it was a thousand degrees and she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Your initials. Miss Melissa Maeve Miller is m, m, m, m. I thought it was cute and appropriate for you. My name is Gideon Ashton.”
“Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ashton,” she murmured politely as she got ready to smear the soap on his face. As he jerked backwards with a wary look on his face, Melissa stopped in her tracks.
“What? I won’t cut you” she said defensively. The frightened looks or catcalls were getting a bit old. Why couldn’t they realize that she could do the job just as well as any other person?
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