A Sheriff's Fugitive Bride

by Blythe Carver

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and making a half-hearted attempt at fluffing them.

  Biting her tongue was almost not enough to keep her from laughing, but she somehow managed.

  “The rain will let up soon, and your mama will let you back outside. See?” She pointed out the window. “It looks like the clouds are lightening up. Soon they’ll break apart.”

  He looked pensive rather than relieved. “Why doesn’t Mama let me play outside in the rain anymore?”

  Phoebe winced as she turned back toward the window. “She let you play in the rain before?”

  “All the time. Whenever I wanted to. I used to splash and play in the mud and sail little boats, but now I can’t. She says it’s dangerous.”

  “It can be,” she reasoned. “Where I came from, I would sometimes see accidents in the street. Wheels would slip, people would get hurt.”

  “Did they get killed?” Asked with all the innocent curiosity of a child.

  “Sometimes, yes.” No sense in lying. “I don’t think your mama is worried about anything like that happening to you, though. She only wants you to be safe.”

  “I wanna go see Uncle Rance.”

  “Your uncle is hard at work, dear. You’ll see him when he comes home tonight.” It was little wonder Martha hadn’t managed to get much work done around the house.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, coming over to where she stood on a stool near the window.

  The image of him falling through the window sent a shudder through her. Foolish, seeing as how it was more likely he would make a mess of the soapy water she was using. “I’ll tell you what let’s do. You can play on the porch, right outside this window, where I can see you. All right?”

  His dark eyes lit up. “What about mama?”

  “She’s doing the shopping, and I’m sure she won’t mind so long as you stay right where I can see you. Once I’m through with the windows, though, you’ll have to come inside.”

  “I promise.” He was in his room before she could say another word, and moments later he emerged with his toy soldiers and horses. It was sweet, really, watching him play with them, making the horses trot by bouncing them along the floor.

  If she hadn’t been watching him, she would’ve missed a familiar face passing on the street. A face she had decided she was going to look for and talk some sense to. That was what she’d decided when she saw how stricken Rance was the night before.

  “Oh, my goodness!” she whispered, jumping down from the stool in an instant and running for the door. “Come with me!” She took Jesse by the hand and led him down the front stairs. This was positively providential, the girl just happening to walk past as Phoebe looked out the window.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, but she was too busy following the young woman’s progress to answer right away.

  “Shh.” She held a finger to her lips. “We’re following that girl. We must be quiet.”

  “Why?”

  “Jesse, please.” It was difficult to keep frustration out of her voice as she trotted along, her gaze fixed on the back of the girl’s head. Her honey hair was pinned up neatly this time, but it could be no one but her.

  She wasn’t dressed nearly the same as she’d been that night. Her striped, lace-trimmed dress had become a calico work dress, not unlike the one Phoebe wore. She no longer wore earbobs, and her face was free of paint. She looked young, fresh, like any other girl returning home after shopping in town.

  Only Phoebe knew better. She would have known the girl’s face anywhere. It had haunted her for days.

  The girl did not look over her shoulder, yet for some reason, she quickened her pace as she crossed the street. Jesse’s short legs couldn’t keep up, though that didn’t stop him from trying as they ran down the street and across, then around a corner. The houses were thinning out, no longer places just next to each other, and past this last block the land was devoted to farming.

  Was that where she lived? On a farm outside of town? What reason would she have to…

  Suddenly, the girl spun in place and glared at them. Phoebe came up short, surprised by this, and Jesse seemed glad for the chance to stop.

  “She was walking so fast,” he gasped, though his face still shone with excitement over this adventure.

  “Why do you follow me?” the girl demanded, lifting her chin. Even her voice was the same, though the hard edge she spoke with no was nothing like the whimpering, pleading tone she’d taken before.

  Phoebe took a step nearer, still holding Jesse’s hand. “You don’t remember me? I remember you.”

  The girl frowned, ready to deny any memory—then, recognition dawned. “Oh,” she whispered, her face falling. “It’s you.”

  “It’s me. You’ve caused me a bit of trouble.” With a glance at the top of Jesse’s head, she continued, “Trouble which we can’t discuss now, but I know you know what I’m speaking of.”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please—”

  “As I said, we can’t discuss it. I don’t want things to end badly. I could have told the truth right away, but I didn’t.”

  “Thank you,” the girl whispered, eyes filling with tears. “Thank you so much.”

  “I only wanted to talk to you, but now isn’t the time. Just knowing you exist is a relief to me—I was beginning to think I had imagined you. Can I speak to you sometime later? I’m staying with the sheriff and his family.”

  The girl’s already pale face went even whiter. “No. I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to go there, but we can meet someplace else. There must be a way we can solve this. I want to help you, and I believe he does as well.”

  “No.” The girl backed away, shaking her head. “I can’t do that. You’ll—you’ll have to solve it without me.”

  “But I can’t!” It was no use. The girl, still unnamed, turned and ran as she had that night. Phoebe watched with a sinking heart. If it weren’t for Jesse, she might have followed her.

  “Are we gonna keep after her?” he asked, all but jumping up and down with excitement.

  “No, dear. We’re going to go back home. If your mama comes back and finds us gone, she might be upset.” Phoebe turned around, her mood now dark and heavy. Of course, the girl wouldn’t want to reveal herself. Who in their right mind would? Why did she work in the saloon if she lived on a farm? Wasn’t there work to be done there? Or was she supporting an ailing relative, perhaps? That would be more reason than ever to need gainful employment.

  “How did you know that lady?” Jesse asked, swinging her arm back and forth as they walked.

  “She’s just someone I used to know.”

  “You weren’t friends, though.”

  This amused her. “How could you tell?”

  “Friends don’t look at each other like that. She was scared. Friends aren’t scared of each other.”

  He spoke with such conviction, as though he had decades of experience on which to draw. “I think you’re right,” she agreed. “We’re friends, and we’re not scared of each other.”

  “Why would she be scared of you? You’re nice.”

  “There are a lot of reasons for a person to be afraid,” she murmured, pensive. “You’ll understand more about that when you’re a little older.”

  “Oh, gee,” he grumbled. “That’s what people always say. I’ll understand more when I’m older.”

  She was laughing as they rounded the corner for his street, the house only two down from the end. This gave her full view of the front door flying open and a wide-eyed, frantic woman running down the stairs and through the front gate.

  “Martha!” Phoebe gasped in surprise.

  “Where have you been?” she screamed, running to them with her eyes tear-filled and wild. Her face was red as a beet, her body shaking from head to foot.

  “We were—” Phoebe was at a loss for words. She’d never before seen a woman who looked as though she was literally on the verge of having a fit, a
nd didn’t quite know what to do.

  Martha pulled Jesse into her arms, falling to her knees to cradle him. “Oh, my boy. My boy. I thought you were gone forever.”

  “We just took a walk, Mama,” he explained, though her shoulder muffled his voice some. “That’s all.”

  “What right did you have to take him for a walk? You didn’t even lock the front door!” Martha glared up at her with such contempt, it nearly stopped her heart. “How dare you take him away from the house without asking me first or leaving a note? I wasn’t home, you had no right!”

  “Martha, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “That’s right. You weren’t thinking.” Martha bundled Jesse up in her arms. “Just as I know my brother wasn’t thinking when he convinced me to have you in this house. You’ve gone too far. You’ve become too familiar with my son, and you think you have the run of the place. I could’ve lost him!”

  “But—” There was no defense to be made, and she wouldn’t have been able to make it even if Martha hadn’t hurried up to the house and slammed the door behind her.

  Phoebe swayed on her feet, looking up at the house. A house in which she was no longer welcome. What was she to do now?

  21

  The sun was only just setting when Rance headed home that night. Martha would be so surprised. He might actually have the chance to spend time with Jesse before he went to bed.

  He told himself as he walked down the still-busy street that it wasn’t Phoebe he was excited to see. No, not at all. Even if it was, he only saw her as a distraction. Nothing more. She was something interesting. Something new. Something that wouldn’t be around for much longer.

  And that was for the best. No one could make him believe otherwise.

  He was even whistling as he rounded the corner, already looking forward to a nice evening at home. A man could get used to this sort of life.

  He believed that right up until he spotted Phoebe sitting on the front stairs, her head in her hands.

  “Phoebe?” He hurried to her. “What happened? Is Jesse all right?”

  She nodded, remaining silent. Her head was down, her eyes on her feet.

  “Why are you out here, then?” It was damp out there, and she must have been terribly uncomfortable sitting as she was. When he touched her hand, he was shocked to feel the chill of her skin. It had been a cool day, at that.

  She’d been sitting there for a long time.

  He sat beside her. “Tell me. What happened?”

  “I can’t go in there. I can’t. She’s… she’s so angry with me.”

  “Martha? I can’t imagine why.”

  “I took Jesse for a walk.” She lifted her head, and then he saw the true depth of her despair written on her face. Tears had soaked her bodice. Her eyes were bloodshot, swollen from crying. “That’s all I did. I took him for a short walk. We didn’t even go as far as the first farm. But Martha came home and thought…”

  “Oh, no,” he muttered as she burst into fresh tears. He could see the entire thing clearly. Martha had returned to find Jesse missing from the house and had flown into a fit.

  “She closed the door and hasn’t come out since. I’ve sat here all afternoon, hoping she would change her mind. She said y—you were wrong to let me come here.”

  Rance felt as awkward as he ever had while patting her heaving shoulder. “It isn’t as bad as that. She’s most likely calmed down by now.”

  “Some things can’t be taken back,” she whispered, shaking her head. “She can’t take back what she said, even though I understand why she said it. I wasn’t thinking. It all happened so fast.”

  “What happened so fast?”

  She gulped, and something in that moment of hesitation told him this wasn’t just a walk they’d been on.

  “Where did you go? Why did you go?”

  “Jesse will more than likely tell you, anyway,” she muttered. “I saw her. The girl.”

  “The girl?”

  “Yes. And she knew who I was when we caught up to her.”

  “Where? Who? Wh—”

  “I don’t know her name. She was so frightened. But she was walking out of town, in the direction of the farms out there. I don’t know which she was heading for, but she was going that way. Carrying a basket. I assumed she’d come from shopping in town. I was washing the windows and happened to see her, and I don’t know, I ran out and took him with me. I had to know where she lived.”

  “I would’ve done the same thing,” he murmured, this time rubbing her shoulder instead of only patting it. “I would have. Did you get the chance to tell Martha?”

  “No. There was no talking to her. And I don’t blame her, truly, I don’t. I never thought she would take it that way, is all, or I wouldn’t have gone.”

  “I’m glad you went. I am. Now at least I know I’ve been looking in the wrong place.” He gazed out in the general direction of which she spoke. “Now that you mention it, the Fosters live out there, and I know Dennis Foster injured himself not long ago. Kicked by a horse, the way I heard it. I can imagine they’d be in need of extra money.”

  “Oh, no. Now I feel worse than ever.”

  “So do I,” he agreed. To his surprise, he put an arm around her and pulled her to him for the briefest moment. It seemed like the right thing to do for someone so obviously miserable. “Come on. You’re coming in with me.”

  “I couldn’t!” she gasped when he took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

  “Your hand is little better than a block of ice.” Though it did feel good in his, just the same. He took it in both of his and rubbed briskly. “You need to warm up. Come in now.”

  “She’ll—”

  “I’ll talk to her. You go upstairs, change into something dry, freshen up. By the time you’re finished, I promise I’ll have her turned around.”

  The only problem was, he hadn’t the first idea of how to do this. Martha was a hard woman to convince otherwise once her mind was made up. If she’d decided Phoebe was a problem and didn’t belong in the house—which was rightfully hers—there was little he could do about it other than try to talk sense to her.

  She was in the process of angrily chopping potatoes when he reached her, having shooed Phoebe upstairs on entering the house.

  “Don’t talk to me,” she warned as the knife slid through one potato after another. He found himself wondering just how much she felt they needed, but he didn’t dare ask.

  It wasn’t wise to ask such questions of a woman holding a knife.

  “I wanted to ask if you’re all right,” he explained.

  “Do you think I’m all right? Does it seem as though I should be all right?” She turned to him, having left the knife on the chopping block. A relief. “Would you be all right, Rance, if you returned home to find your child missing?”

  “He wasn’t truly missing.”

  “I didn’t know that!”

  “I know, I know, but you let the boy run from place to place all day long! He plays the way all boys play. He doesn’t always stay close to the house. And that’s never been a problem before. Why is it now?”

  “Because she was gone, too, and that—it didn’t sit right with me.”

  “I understand that. You reacted. But now that you’ve had time to think, don’t you see how unlikely it is that she would ever hurt him? Or take him from you?”

  “You don’t understand.” Her eyes welled up, and just like that, he had another weeping woman to handle. He held out his arms, which she walked into and sobbed against his chest. “He’s all I have!”

  He wrapped her in a tight hug, wondering if she would ever be aware of just how it broke his heart to see her like this. To hold his sister and know she suffered so, while knowing there was little to nothing he could do about it.

  “You can’t always be afraid. You just can’t. There’s too much you’re missing out on.”

  “I don’t know how not to be. I don’t know anymore.”

  “No one can blame you
for that. I’m sure it’ll take time, but one day you’ll wake up, and you’ll find you’re not so afraid anymore.”

  “Life is so cruel,” she whispered, still shaking with sobs.

  She was right about that. Life was too cruel. There was a girl on a farm just outside of town who’d taken a position as a saloon girl, possibly to bring in money for her ailing father. There was a girl upstairs who had remained silent to protect her and ended up being put in jail herself. There was a little boy who’d spent night after night waiting for his papa to come home, only to find himself alone when he woke up in the morning.

  Life could be very cruel, indeed.

  “She was only doing what she had to do at the moment,” Rance whispered, rocking his sister back and forth.

  She pulled away, eyes blazing in spite of the tears which still flowed. “Don’t defend her to me.”

  “She was following the girl. The one who stole the wallet. She saw her walking past and took Jesse to follow her. That’s where they were going. That’s what was so important. Don’t you think it was important? Would you have taken the time to write a note if it meant the difference between catching her and losing track of her?”

  Indecision floated across Martha’s face, creasing her brow.

  “She would never hurt Jesse. You must know that. She cares for him.”

  “A bit too much, if you ask me.”

  A wounded mother, afraid of being usurped in her child’s affections. Things were becoming clearer all the time. “He’s the sort who makes everyone around him love him. It can’t be helped. But he has a protector, too. Don’t forget that. I have no doubt she would throw herself in the path of danger for his sake.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I hope you never know how this feels. I truly hope.”

  “How what feels?”

  “To lose everything you thought you had. To lose your future.”

  He hooked a finger under her chin, tilted it up. “You haven’t lost everything. And your future is what you intend to make of it. There’s never any accounting for what the Good Lord will put in front of us, but if there’s anybody who can go through the fire and come out stronger on the other side, it’s you.”