“Sheriff!”
Chapter Thirteen
December 17, 1878
It took Rafe the better part of two weeks to solve the mystery of the crime wave in Cut Creek. At first he only had his suspicions, but when each of the crime victims awoke on Sunday morning to a bag of coins in the amount of their loss, he knew it had to be Pop and the boys. While the trouble they went to flattered him, he was tempted to throw them all in the jailhouse for a night to keep them from doing it again.
Instead he settled for a formal apology from each one, in writing and given to the crime victims in the middle of Main Street. The only citizen of Cut Creek missing that day was Peony Potter. By the time he got around to noticing, the event was over and the crowd had dispersed.
He ought to go make peace with her. If he did, he might end up losing out on the biggest adventure of his life. No, better to remain at odds with Peony Potter than to risk turning down Captain Bryant and the Rangers in favor of spending more time with the pretty dressmaker.
“Sheriff, you got a plan for what’s gonna happen when the stage rolls through on Christmas Eve?”
Rafe looked up from his musings to see Bob McLinn standing in his office. “If I got a plan, do you think I’m going to share it with you?”
Actually he only had the beginning of a plan but he’d never admit that to Bob. The gold shipment described in the telegram he received last Friday was so large as to need four men to protect it. With Cut Creek set squarely on the trail to the gold’s final destination, Rafe would be entrusted with seeing it safely through town.
He folded the telegram and slid it into his shirt pocket. As much as he hated it, it sure felt good to be doing so real sheriffing.
Of course, he’d be living the life of a real lawman soon enough. In the meantime, he had plans to make. The stage would be rolling through a week from today. Other than deputizing the four former Rangers, his cousin Wyatt, and Eli Almgren, he hadn’t had a chance to make good on any of the other details of the plan to protect the stage.
Rafe sighed as he unrolled the maps Pop had loaned him. This was going to be a big job, but he was up for the challenge.
“Excuse me, Sheriff Wilson?” Peony Potter stood in the doorway. “May I come in?”
He motioned for her to come in then returned his attention to his maps. When she settled in the chair opposite him, he realized he was in for a longer conversation than he’d hoped.
Ignoring her never worked in the past, so he decided to get the confrontation out of the way right off. “Yes, I know, Pop and his buddies have been up to no good. File a written report and be on your way, please.”
He was totally unprepared for her giggle. “You have no idea, Sheriff.”
Leaning back in his chair, he regarded her from beneath the brim of his hat. “What are you talking about, Miss Potter?”
When she told him, he fairly fell off the chair. “So this is all a fake?”
She nodded. “It seems as though your father and his friends are trying to show you that you belong in Cut Creek by creating some excitement that will culminate with a stage hold-up.”
“How do you know this for sure?”
“Remind me, Sheriff. Where do these men sit every day for hours on end?”
Rafe smiled. “Miss Potter, I would like to apologize for my father and his friends. It seems as though they have been up to no good and I’ve allowed your customers to be exposed to it.”
“You know, I believe I will accept your apology. Now what are we going to do about this?”
Bob McLinn ambled in with a telegram in his hand. “Sorry, folks, I was just passing through and I had this telegram for Miss Potter and, well, I thought. . .”
Rafe rose and strolled to the other side of the desk, casually resting on the corner as he regarded the telegraph operator. “You thought you were going to catch me with Miss Potter?”
“Yes, actually,” he said with a gulp.
He looked down at Peony and winked. “And what did you think you would catch us doing?”
“N-n-nothing at all, Sheriff,” he said as he backed out of the office and headed down the street.
“Miss Potter, I have a plan.”
She rose. “Do you?”
He nodded. With your help we are going to expose these old coots for the meddling men they are.”
“I like that,” she said.
“There’s just one thing,” he added.
“What’s that?”
Rafe smiled. “I’m going to have to kiss you first.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“Any complaints if I do?”
“If I do I’ll put them in writing like you asked,” she said as she leaned up on her tip toes.
“Fair enough,” he whispered just before their lips made contact and he lost his heart to Peony Potter.
Chapter Fourteen
“Here it comes,” Eb shouted. “There’s the stage right on time.”
Rafe nodded and pointed to the west. “Wyatt, you and Eli go that way. Pop, you and the fellows fall in behind the stage and escort it through town and on into the next county. I’ll ride ahead and scout for trouble.”
As the men rode off on their respective assignments, Rafe smiled. Pop always had a plan. Let’s see how he liked Rafe’s plan.
Just over the rise, Rafe had spotted a pair of would-be robbers poised to hold up the stage. He’d pegged them as former Ranger friends of Pop’s, owing to his long memory and the recognizable faces of the pair.
A quick conversation with them along with an explanation and the pair were more than happy to deviate from the plan. Rafe waved as he passed the men, who now hid behind a stand of trees. As the stage rolled past, the two fellows gave chase.
The real fun began when Pop and the boys rode up behind the group and dismounted beside the stage. Hidden in the underbrush, Rafe watched the scene unfold. Pop jumped to the ground first and strolled toward the two fake robbers with the other three in hot pursuit. Just about the time the Meddling Men had gathered around the stage, they found themselves held at gunpoint.
“What are you doing, fellas?” Pop inquired as he was handed into the empty stage. “This isn’t how the plan was supposed to work.”
“Ja,” Swede said. “You’re not supposed to be taking us prisoner.”
“Shut up and get inside,” the taller of the pair shouted as he emptied the Rangers’ weapons of their bullets then tossed them into the bushes.
As the last of the Rangers fell into the stage, the pair bolted the door and turned the stage north. “Where are you taking us?” Pop called.
On cue, Rafe rode up alongside the stage. “Hey, Pop,” he called.
Eb Wilson stuck his head out of the stage and frowned. “What’re you doing out there, boy? You turn crook on me?”
Rafe grinned. “Well, actually-”
A round of gunfire halted his words. The driver halted the stage as a pair of masked gunmen rode toward them.
“Very funny, Rafe,” Sully said. “But I think turning our own two against us was enough. You didn’t have to add more actors to the game.”
Rafe froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pop. I didn’t have anything to do with those two joining the plan.”
A bullet zinged past, snaking a hole in Rafe’s best hat before it lodged in the side of the stage. With the four former Rangers disarmed and the two false robbers carrying guns that held no bullets, Rafe was the sole possessor of a working weapon.
The first bandit rode up at lightning speed, leveling his weapon as he passed. Rafe had no trouble knocking him out of his saddle with the first bullet. When the second criminal appeared, he too was felled by Rafe’s revolver.
Releasing the four Rangers from the confines of the stage, Rafe hung back and let Pop take a look at the two bad guys. “Yep, they won’t be robbing any stages any time soon,” Pop said as he looked up at Rafe with admiration in his eyes. “That’s some nice shooting. You brought ‘em
down but didn’t kill ‘em. Like as not they’ll wish you did after they stand trial.” Pop reached up to shake Rafe’s hand. “Son, you’ve proved to me you’re more than fit to ride with the Rangers.”
“Pop, I appreciate that but I was wondering something.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “I was wondering if one of you Meddling Men had a copy of that contract you gave me awhile back?”
“Why’s that?” Pop asked.
Rafe shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of thought I might hang around Cut Creek and see what sort of trouble I can get into.”
Up ahead a buggy came over the rise. Rafe recognized it instantly as Nellie Chamberlain’s rig. Riding beside Nellie was Peony Potter.
“And here comes that trouble now,” Rafe said as he urged his horse into a gallop and met his future bride halfway.
At least he hoped she would be his future bride. First he had to ask her.
Epilogue
Christmas Day, 1878
“Rafe, there are things about my past you don’t know.” Peony leaned against the tree just past the privy and stared up the light flakes of snow as they dusted the sheriff’s blue-black hair. “Things that might surprise you.”
Rafe wiped a snowflake off Peony’s nose and smiled. “I can’t imagine a thing that would make me love you any less.”
He’d asked her to marry him just yesterday, presenting the idea of the two of them living in Cut Creek and raising a family only a few minutes after he signed the contract agreeing to be sheriff for another year. Peony had said yes then, after joking that he was only spending the day with her to avoid the Bachelors Pot Roast at Abigail’s diner.
She’d been elated yesterday but now she worried he might change his mind once he heard the full truth about her past.
Peony sighed. “I’m not really from Dallas like I led you to believe. I was raised in New Orleans and my mama, well . . .” She paused to regard the man who’d stolen her heart. “If, after you hear this, you want to call off the wedding, I’ll understand.”
Stealing a quick kiss, Rafe shook his head. “I won’t but go ahead and tell me anyway.”
So she did, starting with her papa’s leaving them, her mama’s occupation, and finally, telling him about the dead man on the train headed for San Francisco. When she’d told the entire tale, she sat back and waited for Rafe to break the engagement.
Instead, he sat in silence for a moment. Finally he turned to face her. “Sounds like we both come from interesting families,” he said as the sound of Pop and the boys echoed around them. “Now how about you and I go inside and have some birthday cake?”
“Abigail’s cake?”
He nodded.
“Can’t we just stay out here a little longer?”
He stole one kiss then two more. He would have stolen another except that he heard Abigail calling his name. “Be right there, Abigail,” he said. “Just one more kiss.”
“Happy Birthday, Rafe Wilson,” she whispered. “And Merry Christmas. Looks like you are the marrying kind after all.”
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