Tomorrow's Shining Dream

by Naomi Rawlings

  Charlotte looked up and met her father’s gaze. “I’ll prepare for a wedding in September.”

  The words echoed through the room with the weight of a hundred boulders. They left her throat scorched and a bitter taste on her tongue—and none of it made sense.

  If marrying Andrew was the right choice, why didn’t she feel happy?

  14

  “Let me try to understand.” Judge Murdock leaned forward from his place at the bench at the front of the courtroom and glowered at Rutherford and Adams. “The sheriff found a man in some type of prison room in your client’s trading post, and you’re complaining that he shouldn’t have searched the property?”

  Chuckles broke out from the crowd, and Daniel shifted in the hard wooden chair where he sat across the aisle from Rutherford and his lawyer so that he could catch a few glimpses of the people seated behind him. The room was packed. Yesterday afternoon, the paper that was printed every Wednesday ran the story about Rutherford’s charges being dropped and Daniel going to court. This situation between him and Rutherford had been kept quiet for weeks but was now the most talked about thing in the county. Even Cain sat in the back, his hard eyes taking in everything about the proceeding.

  Indeed, it seemed like the entire town had shown up—except for Thomas Mattherson, Agamemnon Westin, and Charlotte.

  “That’s right.” Mr. Adams had pushed his hefty girth up from the table opposite the one where Daniel sat. “The sheriff had no right to search Mr. Rutherford’s property without his permission.”

  “Sit down,” the judge ordered.

  Daniel couldn’t help the small smile that tilted the corner of his mouth. For as much as he’d worried about court, especially after Judge Murdock had only set Rutherford’s bail at twenty dollars, the traveling judge seemed to have little tolerance for shenanigans.

  “Your Honor, the situation was a bit more complicated than that.” Rutherford stood, casting a sideways glare at Daniel before speaking. “You see, when Sheriff Harding arrived at my—”

  “Did you or did you not have a man imprisoned against his will somewhere on your property?”

  Rutherford shifted. “That question is a bit complicated.”

  “Your Honor,” Rutherford’s lawyer interjected. “We feel imprisoned is too strong a word to use for the situation.”

  “Really.” The judge shuffled through some of the papers at his bench, then held one up. “Because according to the report submitted by the sheriff here, it seems that imprisoned isn’t a strong enough word. Why am I not presiding over a kidnapping and attempted murder trial?”

  The judge’s dark brown eyes skewered Daniel. This man was nothing like the laidback, aging Judge Grenville who had seen to the county’s legal disputes for the past two decades. Judge Murdock didn’t have a single gray hair on his head, and his sharp eyes took in every last detail about the day’s proceedings.

  Daniel pushed himself up from the table where he sat by himself. The commissioners had offered to let Mr. Boreman represent him, but he’d refused. “Mr. Rutherford made a plea agreement for those charges yesterday afternoon.”

  The judge raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have any information about such an agreement.”

  He didn’t? Daniel clenched his teeth together. Though really, he shouldn’t be surprised. A quick glance at where Rutherford sat with a sly gleam in his eye told Daniel the man had probably paid the clerk an exorbitant sum to make that particular document disappear. Either that, or Rutherford had gotten to the baby-faced Boreman before the plea agreement could even be submitted to the court. “One should have been filed yesterday by the county’s lawyer, but I have my own copy of the agreement here.”

  “Then let me see it.” The judge extended his hand.

  Daniel walked across the open space in front of the bench and gave the single paper to the judge.

  Judge Murdock took a moment to scan the document. “The charges were changed to a misdemeanor for disorderly conduct despite a man being found captive in an impaired physical condition?”

  “They were.” The words tasted bitter on Daniel’s tongue.

  “It says here that you dissented to the agreement.”

  “I did.”

  “But the commissioner’s court accepted the deal?”

  “It did. In exchange for the sum of money you see listed at the bottom of the page.”

  The judge went back to studying the paper, running a tongue over his bottom lip before he looked at the plaintiff’s bench. “Mr. Rutherford, I deem this lawsuit of yours a ridiculous waste of time. Count yourself grateful that the county decided to accept your plea agreement. I am also issuing a ruling that you pay Sheriff Harding a hundred dollars cash money as compensation for the time he spent preparing for this lawsuit and coming to court today, all of which took him away from his duties as sheriff of Twin Rivers County.”

  A sense of lightness filled Daniel’s chest. Though the money wouldn’t give him back the time he’d spent on Rutherford’s case—time he could have spent searching for Mattherson’s cattle.

  “Looks like we finally got ourselves a judge who knows how to rule fair.” A man’s voice rang out over the crowd.

  Mr. Adams shot up from his chair. “Your Honor, the fine—”

  The judge banged his gavel. “Court is adjourned. Good day.”

  The courtroom erupted with chatter while the judge stood and started toward his chamber.

  The commissioners, who had been seated directly behind Daniel, filed into the aisle and came down onto the floor.

  “See? This was nothing to get all worked up about yesterday.” Thurston Jennings adjusted the waistcoat on a three-piece suit that looked far too expensive and pristine to be worn by residents of Twin Rivers County, even if they worked at one of the banks Jennings owned.

  “Would have won the kidnapping and attempted murder charges too if you would have let it go to court,” Daniel muttered.

  “Today’s hearing could have gone faster if I’d represented you.” Lawyer Babyface looked at his pocket watch. “You would have been out of here in under a half hour.”

  Soames clamped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t give Rutherford cause to file another lawsuit. One is quite enough.”

  “I agree,” Jennings quipped. “You might have won today, but Twin Rivers County doesn’t have a new judge yet, and the next traveling judge might not be so… generous with his ruling.”

  “How did the entire town find out about this, anyway?” Edgar Cunningham glanced around the courtroom, where most people now clustered near the room’s single door waiting for a chance to leave. Daniel hadn’t asked, but the man might have even closed the general store during the trial.

  “An article ran in the front page of yesterday’s paper.” Soames crossed his muscular arms over his chest.

  Daniel looked at the group of men. “Rutherford probably made sure the story reached the paper before it went to print.”

  “Well, Walter and I need to get back to Brewster. Nice work today, Sheriff.” Jennings clapped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, I better get back to the forge,” Soames said.

  “And I’ll have customers waiting for me at the store, Cunningham muttered. The commissioners quickly dissipated, leaving the courtroom empty but for his mother and friends near the back.

  Daniel slowly made his way to where Wes, Sam, and Cain sat talking to Ma.

  She turned to him, her eyes shining. “Your father wanted me to let you know you did a good job today, and he’s proud of you. We both are. Anna Mae took him home before the crowd decided to leave, but they stayed long enough to hear the ruling.”

  “Thanks, Ma.” He held his arms out and gave her a hug. She squeezed him tight, clinging to him for a few seconds too long before she released him.

  “Well, I’ll let you get on with your day then.” She turned and nodded at his friends. “Nice seeing you men.” Then she headed out the door.

  Daniel p
lopped down into the chair beside Wes.

  “Good work.” Wes jabbed him in the shoulder.

  Sam nodded toward the front of the courtroom, which caused a thatch of wayward hair to fall over his forehead. “Went way better for you than my hearing before Judge Grenville in May.”

  “I’ll give you about two weeks of freedom before Rutherford comes up with another lawsuit to file,” Cain said.

  Daniel scrubbed a hand over his face. Cain wasn’t wrong, but would it kill the man to congratulate him? Why was Cain even here? This had nothing to do with him or the rustlers.

  Yesterday in the tent, Cain had seemed reasonable, like he almost regretted some of the things he’d done in his past, like he truly cared about Anna Mae’s reputation. But this also made the second time in the past day he’d inserted himself into the middle of sheriff business that didn’t concern him.

  Cain had made no secret about wanting to catch the rustlers and leave Twin Rivers as soon as he could, so why care about what went on with Rutherford or the county commissioners? “Shouldn’t you be out searching Closed Canyon?”

  “Already did.” Cain lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “There’s nothing to it. No animal tracks anywhere. Whoever’s been using that hideout doesn’t have anything to do with the rustlers.”

  “You’re still keeping a couple men out there to watch it, aren’t you? Figure out who’s using it and why?”

  “I’ve got men stationed over on Sam’s trail. That’s where the action is going to be.”

  “You’re wrong.” Daniel wasn’t sure why he said it—or more, why he was so certain he was right—but the words were out before he had time to think about them.

  The side of Cain’s mouth quirked up into that smug, arrogant smile. “How about we make a little agreement, Sheriff. You don’t tell me how to do my job, and I won’t tell you how to do yours.” He stood and settled his hat atop his head. “Good luck with whatever lawsuit Rutherford throws at you next.”

  Cain strode from the room, his boots thunking against the floor in a way that made even his gait seem condescending.

  Daniel gritted his teeth. He didn’t know whether the rustlers were using Closed Canyon or Sam’s trail or both, but he wasn’t about to let that hideout go unwatched. Looked like he’d be rounding up some more volunteers to help him.

  Maybe he’d be the one to catch the rustlers, or maybe Cain would. But his desire to see the rustlers caught suddenly had less to do with justice than it did with saying good riddance to his former friend.

  15

  Daniel dug his heels into Blaze’s side as the beast galloped toward the iron posts marking the entrance to the Westins’ ranch. Charlotte had missed their appointments both yesterday and today, and she hadn’t been at court with Wes either. Sure, that meant it had only been two days since he’d seen her, but the only reason he could think for her to miss two of their flirting sessions and not send word was because something was terribly wrong.

  He’d wanted to climb astride Blaze and head out to the A Bar W as soon as Abe had shown up for his shift, but he’d spent another hour rounding up volunteers to keep an eye on Closed Canyon round the clock. Finding someone willing to sit awake in the middle of the desert all night just in case something happened wasn’t exactly easy.

  Daniel scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Could Charlotte be sick? It seemed like Wes would have told either him or Anna Mae as much at the courthouse.

  Had he said something that upset her?

  Or maybe she’d had a good reason to miss their meeting yesterday, but she’d gotten injured somehow on her way to visit him today? She could be lying hurt beneath the hot desert sun at this very moment.

  What if Andrew Mortimer had arrived at the ranch early and that’s why she hadn’t come to see him? Something hard and jagged lodged in his chest, and it suddenly hurt to draw breath.

  Daniel reined Blaze to a stop in the yard.

  “Howdy, Sheriff.” Aimes waved to him from where he worked replacing a broken board in the paddock. “Hope there’s not any trouble.”

  “Only a little, but I could use your help. There’s a hideout inside Closed Canyon that I think the rustlers are using. You want to take a shift a couple times a week to keep an eye on the place, let me know if you see anything unusual?”

  “If you think it will help catch them outlaws that stole our cattle, then I’m in, and the rest of the cowhands will be to. Can’t imagine the boss will have a problem with us leaving our work here for that.”

  “Thank you.” Maybe he’d have an easier time of getting volunteers from the local ranches. After all, the longer the rustlers went uncaught, the more ranches stood to lose.

  Aimes nodded toward the hacienda. “Both Wes and the boss are up at the big house if you want to talk to them about it.”

  “I will, but, uh… actually, I was looking for… ah… for Charlotte.” Heat climbed up the back of his neck as he spoke her name, but the A Bar W was too big for him to search by himself. If she was on Athena and hadn’t told anyone where she was headed, he’d never find her.

  Aimes jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s in there with the foal. Hasn’t even left its side to eat. We’ve been bringing meals out to her. Mr. Westin ordered her to sleep in her room last night, but I’m pretty sure she snuck back out as soon as the old man fell asleep.”

  “There’s a new foal?”

  “One of the horses from Arabia had her colt, but the birth was hard. Thought we were going to lose both the mama and the foal there for a bit.”

  At least now he knew why he hadn’t seen Charlotte.

  “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder, then stepped through the open door of the stable and inhaled the sweet scent of hay. The thick adobe walls kept the heat of the afternoon out and the cool air in, and the ceiling towered above him, more similar to the soaring arches of the San Fernando Cathedral in San Antonio than the roof of any other barn on the desert.

  Polished saddles, cinches, bridles, and blankets sat on the shelves lining the wall, all arranged more orderly than most people kept their parlors. He headed past the stalls at the front of the barn, where the ranch kept its quarter horses, and toward the back. Nearly all the beasts had been let outside for the day, though most of them were probably huddled under the shade of the ocotillo roof on the far side of the pen.

  He heard Charlotte’s voice before he saw her, soothing murmurs that she spoke to the horse, though he couldn’t make out any words. She sat on the mat of straw in one of the wide stalls, stroking the silky black neck of the mare who lay on the ground. On the mare’s other side, a foal lay nestled against her belly.

  Charlotte’s hair was disheveled, half coming down from the loose bun she always wore it in. And the wrinkles in her clothes told him Aimes had been right about her sneaking out to the barn last night.

  He’d never seen a more beautiful image.

  And I’ll never be able to marry her.

  The idea slammed into him, and he knew it with more certainty than he knew the sun would set that evening.

  Not even if he talked her out of pursuing Mortimer. Not even if her father could be convinced to give his youngest daughter to a backwater sheriff.

  He could never marry her because he could never give her what she had sitting in that stall.

  While he had enough money saved to buy a house and a little patch of land, he’d never own enough land for her horses, nor would he be able to afford to buy such fine horseflesh for her to breed.

  An ache started in his chest, growing until the hollowness inside seemed to swallow him whole. He loved her. Fully and completely. If there had been any lingering questions about his feelings, they’d vanished. He had no doubt about where he stood or what he wanted when it came to her.

  But he could never tell her.

  Daniel blew out a breath. He had to be done seeing her. He may have promised to practice flirting with her until Andrew returned, but he couldn’t do it anymore, not for a day, not for an h
our, not for a minute. Spending more time with her would only splinter the remaining pieces of his already-shattered heart.

  He took a step back from the stall, then another and…

  Thump!

  His leg hit something hard, and he looked down to realize he’d bumped into a barrel of feed.

  Charlotte’s head jerked up. “Daniel, thank goodness you’re here. Come help. I can’t get her to stand.”

  “Actually, I need to go… uh… talk to your brother. I was just here to take a quick peek at the foal.”

  “Talk to him later. If Calypso doesn’t stand then Odysseus can’t nurse.”

  Odysseus, was it? He shook his head. Maybe Wes and his pa had both inherited the name Agamemnon from some distant ancestor, but when the Westins had started giving Greek names to their horseflesh, they’d taken their preoccupation with mythological names into a whole new sphere.

  “Daniel?” Charlotte’s brow furrowed, and only then did he glimpse the slight tremble in her jaw.

  She’d only asked him to help with a horse. No harm in that. In fact, she’d think it odder if he turned around and left than if he walked into the stall.

  Besides, he had to tell her that she couldn’t come to his office anymore, that they couldn’t keep “practicing.”

  “Why doesn’t she want to stand?” He walked past the sturdy wooden door of the stall and knelt. “Is her leg hurt?”

  “She lost a lot of blood in the birthing.” Charlotte ran a hand over the beast’s muscular shoulder. The movement caused a thatch of hair from her disheveled updo to fall in front of her face, but she didn’t even bother to swipe the hair away. “For a while I thought I would lose her. I eventually got the bleeding to stop, but she’s still weak. She seems to have bonded with her foal, but I can barely get her to stand, which means the foal struggles to nurse.”

  Daniel stroked a hand over the horse’s nuzzle. Calypso’s eyes fluttered open to look at him, two deep black pools filled with pain and fatigue. “She looks miserable.”