“That’s not what a sheriff does.”
“It could be what this sheriff does. What of the one who came before you?”
Rance snickered. “He would’ve told Jake Nielsen where he could stuff his wallet days ago and been done with the whole thing.”
“Why didn’t you do the same?”
“We’re not the same sort of man, Samuel and me. I don’t intend on meeting the same end he did, either, but it was that sort of brash attitude that did him in.”
Phoebe knew she shouldn’t ask. It might be rude, and he would most certainly tell her to mind her own affairs while letting him mind his. “What happened?” she asked nonetheless. Her curiosity was too much to be ignored.
Rance shrugged. “It’s a funny thing. I was there, but I hardly recall how it started. I know how it started, mind you, but I don’t remember it. I remember the stories. Does that sound odd?”
“Not at all.” It did, rather, but she didn’t want to tell him so.
“We rode out to the edge of town when we got word of a couple of men fighting out there. Figured they’d both had too much to drink and were feeling ornery. There isn’t much to do out here—even a city this size, the state capital. A man can drink, or he can mess around with women.” He winced, glancing at her. “Forgive my language.”
“I know the way of the world,” she assured him with a thin smile.
“I forgot how worldly you are,” he muttered. “At any rate, the men were fighting and causing a lot of ruckus, even firing guns—though not at each other. Into the air, at the ground, acting like fools. One of ‘em was bound to shoot each other, or their fool selves. So we went out to talk some sense into ‘em.”
Rance fell quiet for a moment, and Phoebe allowed him to be.
“It was dark when we rode up, and they were staggering around and shouting at each other. You never saw anything half so pitiful, I’m sure. They could hardly stand up straight, either of them. It wouldn’t have taken much to calm them down, probably. Just a few words, maybe a joke or two. Something to break up the mood.”
“What happened?”
“Samuel got a bit too loud. He was never good at talking to people. Don’t misunderstand me, please. He was a good man, a fine sheriff. He had a strong sense of right and wrong, and he didn’t take it easy on those who broke the law, but he had a good heart. He once beat the living tar out of his own brother when he found out he struck his wife, and promised much worse if he ever did it again. Even threw him in jail for three nights straight to make sure the message got through.”
She nodded, to encourage him to keep talking.
He sighed. “But he had a way of riling people up, too. He would throw his weight around, you could say. Threatening. Shouting. It was sometimes the right way to go about things, but only sometimes. Not always. Not that night. He got too loud. He threatened to put both men in jail for disturbing the peace. Told ‘em to lower their guns, told ‘em he’d shoot both of ‘em if they didn’t. I knew it was wrong. I warned him, told him to stop. They were angry, and he wasn’t making things better. They weren’t afraid of him, they were too drunk and already seeing red. He should’ve calmed ‘em. He made it worse. One of ‘em shot him. He died right there, in the middle of the street. Staring up at the sky. And there was nothing I could do about it.”
“That was why you became sheriff?”
“That was why. Because I couldn’t stop a drunken fool from shooting the man who had the job before I did. It feels like somebody up there’s laughing at me.”
Phoebe took this in. “What happened wasn’t your fault. He sounds like he was a headstrong man. He wouldn’t have listened no matter what you did. And if you tried to get in the middle of him and the man who shot him, you might have been the one who got shot. Where would that leave Martha and Jesse?”
“I should’ve known better.”
“You can’t know everything.”
“I should have. That was my job. You don’t understand because—”
“Because I’m a woman and I don’t know how difficult life is for a man?” Phoebe waved this off. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe that. If the town didn’t think you would be a good choice for a sheriff, they wouldn’t have given you the job. It’s as simple as that. You’re the only one who needs to believe it, since everyone else seems to.”
“This mess with Jake Nielsen has my head in a vise,” he admitted before casting an apologetic look her way. “I don’t blame you for that. This is his fault. He can’t accept what happened, and I don’t know why. So he’s calling into question whether I’m fit for this job. He’ll complain to everybody and anybody who’s willing to listen.”
“Everyone knows he’s full of hot air and not much sense. No one listens to him. Martha told me so, and from what I’ve seen of him I believe it. He’s not a nice man.”
“No. He isn’t. Anybody else would have moved on from this by now and let bygones be bygones. The man was so intoxicated, he can’t remember what the girl looked like. He probably wouldn’t even recognize you if you walked straight into him.”
While that posed some relief, she was unwilling to test this theory.
“I never thought there would come a time when I was called on to do something I didn’t think was right.” Rance rubbed his temples as though a headache was coming on. “What would I do with the girl if I found her? Arrest her? Take her before the judge? This is all a terrible waste.”
Something strange and unpredictable happened then. Phoebe certainly never would have guessed it possible, but it was true, her heart went out to him.
And she knew what she had to do to make things right.
19
“Well, well!” Martha looked astonished as he crossed the threshold behind Phoebe. “I sent her out with supper but never expected her to come back with you in tow!”
He handed her the supper pail with a withering look. “I thought it best that I come home, but I can always go back.”
“No, please. I’ll have to lock the door to make it more difficult for you to leave.” She nodded toward Jesse’s bedroom door. “He’s waiting, by the way. I told him not to expect anything tonight, but if I know him, I know he’s hoping you’ll come in.”
Rance removed his coat and holster—he made it a point to take off his gun when he arrived at home and to always keep it out of Jesse’s reach—before knocking on the closed door.
Sure enough, the little boy sat up in bed, playing with a set of wooden soldiers Rance had given him as a gift on his last birthday. “You’re home!” he beamed, showing off the gap in his front teeth.
Just like that, the pressure of the day melted away, if only for the short time that he’d be with the boy. There was something to be said for leaving the outside world outside and allowing the simple joy of a child to take over for adult concerns.
For the first time in his life, he wished he had a little boy or girl of his own to greet him this way. A wife to nag him into coming home for supper rather than staying late at his desk.
“I had to come in and say goodnight to my favorite young man,” he explained, gently removing the toys from the bed and settling Jesse back against the pillows. “But I’m afraid it’s now far past your bedtime.”
“I’m in bed!”
Rance chuckled. “I can see that, but we both know what I mean. You ought to be asleep.”
“Is Peepsy gonna come in and say goodnight, too?” Jesse craned his neck that he might see past his uncle.
This was a surprise, though he guessed it shouldn’t have been. The boy was taken with her, plain and simple, and had been since the moment he set eyes on her. “I didn’t think to ask her, since I’m usually the one who puts you to bed.”
“But I want to say goodnight to her, too. Mama had me get ready for sleep while she was at the jailhouse with you.”
“Oh. I see.” This was unfortunate. He should’ve thought of this. Jesse was far too attached to the girl, and when she left…
“P
eepsy!” Jesse called out, his voice as sweet as honey. “Can you come say goodnight?”
Rance winced. Who could resist him?
Phoebe poked her head into the room. “Did you call me?”
“Yes. I wanted to say goodnight, since you weren’t here when I went to bed.”
She cast an almost apologetic look Rance’s way before coming in. “Goodnight, young man. Pleasant dreams.”
He held his arms out. “A hug, please?”
She hesitated, torn between the boy and the man sitting beside him. Rance knew when he was in the way. “Please, don’t let me stop you,” he murmured with a wry smile as he stood, moving to the side of the room so she could take his place on the bed.
“Goodnight,” she said again, kissing the top of his head. “We’ll see each other in the morning.”
“You’ll still be here?”
“I’ll still be here.”
It was nearly enough to break his heart, watching this unfold. The shining hope in Jesse’s eyes, the sweetness of her smile as she smoothed the hair from his brow before tucking him in.
He’d done wrong, bringing her here. Everyone was getting too familiar. Martha already looked at her as a confidant. Jesse loved her. It didn’t matter, since there would soon be no reason for her to remain in their presence. Just as it should’ve been.
And life would return to the way it had once gone when she went back to the ranch. He’d never thought things were so bad before, and they weren’t. Jesse was a happy little boy, if a bit lost without his father. Martha was progressing, if a bit slowly.
He wasn’t sure he could stand seeing his sister retreat back into her shell once she was alone again. Maybe they could afford to hire a real housekeeper, a young girl she could get along with.
Anyone but Phoebe.
She turned to him with a smile, and he wished she wouldn’t. It was all too much, what she stirred up in his heart. In all their hearts. And he wanted to hate her for it, to send her away because he couldn’t make sense of anything and it was all her fault.
Wasn’t this supposed to make his life easier, bringing her into his home?
They left the room together, with Phoebe shutting the door quietly. “He’s impossible to resist.” She grinned, leaning against the door. “I’ve never been so taken by a child.”
“No?”
“No, normally the young men who interest me are much older and a bit more dashing.” She giggled behind her hand. “Forgive me, but it’s been a long day.”
“For both of us,” he admitted with a grin. “Thank you for being good to them. Both of them. You could’ve treated this as a jail sentence, but all you’ve done instead is make them both happier than I’ve seen them in a long time.”
“I’m glad I can do that,” she whispered, suddenly shy. Her gaze lowered, brushing the tops of his boots. “It’s only a shame that I make you so unhappy. I wish it didn’t have to be so.”
His throat clenched. This was a chance to explain that she hadn’t made his life so terrible, after all. That the reason he’d stayed so late at the jailhouse wasn’t because he had work to do, but because he was so looking forward to seeing her and the anticipation frightened him some.
Even though they’d parted on bad terms that afternoon. Even though she might easily have described the thief and put an end to this days earlier. Even though Jake Nielsen insisted on haunting him thanks to her determination.
In spite of everything, he’d been looking forward to seeing her again. To sharing a meal with her and hearing her laugh. To watching her love Jesse, the same person he loved.
It was all wrong.
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
She seemed to understand this. “I’ll be going up to my room now. Good night.” With a sweep of her skirts, she brushed past him on her way to the stairs. He thought he caught the scent of lavender in her hair as she did, and he found himself wanting to bury his nose in it and breathe deep.
It was all very wrong.
Martha was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea when he entered. “He’s half in love with her, I think,” she said with a chuckle, and it took him a moment to realize she was speaking of Jesse.
“Little boys tend to feel that way about pretty young ladies,” he reasoned, choosing coffee over tea. There was a pot sitting on the back of the stove, and he poured a cup. Something to help clear his head.
“Do they, now?” She smiled.
He ignored this bit of teasing—and that’s what it was, he could hear it in her voice—in favor of looking around the room in amazement. “All of this in one day?” he asked. It was almost too much to be believed. The kitchen looked the way he’d remembered it looking before, when Martha was more herself, and her husband was still alive.
“I’m ashamed of myself for letting it go so far,” she admitted with a tremble of her chin.
“Now, now.” He was quick to sit with her, taking her hand as he did. “None of that. No one could blame you for letting little things go. Who cares whether the floor is scrubbed or the windows are washed? It doesn’t really matter.”
“But it does, or else you wouldn’t have brought her here.”
“I brought her here for a number of reasons, the least of which being the fact that you need a little help. Don’t you already feel better, just having someone else in the house with you during the day?”
“It’s a breath of fresh air,” she admitted. “I didn’t feel alone today.”
“See? I was thinking of you, not of the house. That was merely a pretense. She’s a housekeeper, you needed help. It all seemed meant to be.”
“Seemed?” Always so sharp, his sister, picking up on words he hadn’t chosen with enough care.
He didn’t much like the thought of coming clean but saw no choice in the matter. “I worry for Jesse. When it comes time for her to leave, I mean.”
“Oh. I see.” She frowned, staring off toward the parlor. “Yes. I can understand that. I hadn’t thought of it until now. We’ll simply have to be sure he understands that this isn’t for always. Just for now.”
Rance didn’t give voice to the concern this raised, but the question of whether his nephew had already lost enough plagued him as he drank his coffee and discussed the day with his sister, a habit they’d fallen into over the last several months.
“I truly wish somebody would give the man a taste of his own medicine,” she snarled when he told her of his dinner with Jake Nielsen. “He’s a menace, through and through.”
“I don’t disagree. One of the least pleasant parts of my job is having to pay equal attention to everyone—even if it’s all in pretense, just to get them to leave me in peace.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” she promised with a wink. “You say you spoke with some of the girls employed by Mr. Lawrence?”
He chuckled. “Oh, yes. That was the highlight of my day.”
“How so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.
“Not in the way you’re thinking, sister,” he warned. “They seem like genuine, sweet young women. All of them. None of them seem particularly enthused to work for the man, but they all agree it’s a way to earn a living and that’s why they do it. They all swear they don’t take customers up to the second floor, which of course I don’t believe.”
“How so?”
“Because every single one of them brought it up before I did, like they were defending themselves without cause to do so. And if none of them do it, then who does? I know some of them must, for I’ve heard enough stories.”
“Maybe that’s all they are. Stories. The bragging of men who wish to impress their friends. I know how you men talk when you get together.”
“It’s no worse than the way you women whisper and giggle to each other.”
“That just isn’t so,” she said with a laugh, swatting his arm. “We might gossip, but it doesn’t go much further than that.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged as he laughed with her. “Jus
t the same, it struck me as an unnecessary lie. I told them I wasn’t there to discuss that. It’s not my business, honestly, and unless one of those girls comes out of the saloon with a black eye or worse, I don’t intend to make it my business.”
“Did any of them strike you as the thief?”
“All of them did, which is the trouble. I can’t imagine any of them not having reason to take a man’s wallet if it meant buying a train ticket home or just about anywhere else.”
“Maybe they’re protecting the girl who did it. They could very well know which of them it was.”
“I have no doubt,” he agreed, marveling as he always did at her perception. “They would be bound to know which girl ran out in a hurry that night. Which one was spending her time with Jake.”
“It seems like there will never be an end to this,” she announced as she stood, patting his shoulder before going to the sink with her cup. “I can’t say I’m entirely unhappy about it.”
“Why on earth would you ever say a thing like that, when you know how this has plagued me?”
She rolled her eyes. “This will blow over, and you know it. But I wouldn’t have had reason to meet Phoebe were it not for this, and Jesse certainly enjoys having her here.”
She seemed to study him as she poured a little more coffee into his cup. “It would appear you’re the only one who doesn’t, brother.”
“Why should I?” he grumbled.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure I don’t know.”
20
The next day dawned dark and rainy, with a surprisingly cool breeze which was a welcome relief from the hazy heat they’d dealt with for weeks. A sure sign the weather was about to change for good, and Phoebe welcomed it with all her heart.
The rain meant Jesse would remain cooped up inside the house, however, which he was in no mood to do. “I wanna go outside,” he groaned, flinging himself back upon the sofa.
“I only just fluffed those pillows,” Phoebe moaned, turning away from the windows she was washing to see. “How can I get the parlor sparkling clean for your mama if you’re going to undo all the work I did?”
A Sheriff's Fugitive Bride Page 12
