The Marshal's Promise

by Rhonda Gibson

  “Thank you.” She looked up into his eyes and a small smile tilted the edge of her mouth. “I probably should have gone on home, but I was starting to worry about you. Where have you been?”

  Seth liked the idea that someone worried about him. He pushed the warm feeling away and released her hand. He’d had that kind of love three years ago, but Clare had paid the ultimate price for their love. “I picked up a prisoner and took him to Durango. I’m sorry I worried you.”

  Rebecca walked to the front door and pulled her shawl from the nail. “It’s all right. I know your job is a dangerous one—that’s the only reason I worried.” She opened the door.

  The night had grown colder and he wondered if her shawl would be enough to keep her warm. Pulling the door closed behind him, Seth took her elbow and helped her down the three short steps. “I think we’d better talk about your hours. The thought of you walking home this late doesn’t sit well with me.”

  She looked over at him. Under the moon’s light, her hair created the illusion that she had a halo over the crown of her head. “You might be right.”

  “You can continue to come in the mornings at the same time, but I really think you should return home before dark.” Seth stepped up on the wooden sidewalk and helped her to do the same.

  The hem of her skirt brushed the wood and snagged on a nail. Rebecca bent to work the cloth free. Her words floated up to him. “I did the first night you were gone and my roast and potatoes were ruined.” She stood. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop by to tell me you were going.”

  Seth pulled his shoulders up straighter. The accusing sound of her voice struck a chord in him. Who did she think she was? His mother? Wife? Fiancée? Fresh, painful thoughts of Clare filled him once more. No, Rebecca Ramsey wasn’t his fiancée. That position had been Clare’s alone. He didn’t owe Rebecca an explanation. “I didn’t think about it.”

  They stopped in front of the hat shop. Rebecca turned to look at him. “Well, maybe from now on, when you have to leave town you can let me know.”

  He studied her features. She was serious. His jaw clenched. What if he was on the trail of a killer? He wouldn’t have time to stop and return home so he could tell her where he was going. Didn’t she see that? No, from the look on her face, she didn’t, and that was the problem. It had always been a problem, at least for him. This very conversation was one of the reasons he’d decided not to get married, at least not until his marshaling days were over. “Let’s talk about it in the morning. I’m tired and I know you are, too.”

  Rebecca nodded. “All right.” She reached for the door. “Thank you for walking me home, Marshal. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with those final words Rebecca Ramsey shut the door in his face.

  Seth turned to go home. “Lord, please keep her far enough away from me that the thoughts of marriage and loving will not return anytime soon,” he mumbled, and kicked a pebble.

  Chapter Eight

  Rebecca woke the next morning with a headache.

  Her first thoughts of the day were on Seth Billings. Why did he have to be so stubborn? All she’d done was ask him to let her know when he’d be leaving town. She’d seen the way his chin lifted and his jaw hardened. The tenseness in his voice had also warned her that he had no intention of telling her when he wouldn’t be returning for the evening.

  She buttoned the front of her dress and then moved to the dressing table. Sitting down, Rebecca pulled a brush through her hair. How would she know whether to fix dinner or not? Tears filled her eyes. What if he decided to have his meals fixed at the diner? Then he wouldn’t need her. She’d have to find another way to stay in Cottonwood Springs.

  “Rebecca? Are you awake?” Eliza called through the bedroom door.

  “Yes, come on in.” She laid the brush down and turned to face her friend.

  Eliza entered, looking fresh and alert. “You’re running a little late. I was worried you might have overslept.” She dropped onto the bed and smiled.

  “No, I didn’t sleep too well last night and woke up before Mr. Daniel’s rooster. Then, when sleep did return, I woke with a headache.” Rebecca worked her hair into a knot and fastened it at the back of her head. She didn’t care if it did make her look like an old maid today.

  Her friend made tsking noises and then asked, “What kept you up?”

  Should she mention her problem to Eliza? Would her new friend be able to help? Rebecca placed two combs in her hair and then decided she had nothing to lose by asking for Eliza’s advice. “The marshal came home last night.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. I really was starting to worry about him. Until you came along, I didn’t really give his job much thought, but now, well, I find myself praying for his safety. Since he was missing, well, not really missing, but you know what I mean.” She waved her hand and then covered her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just kind of went off there for a second. Please, continue.”

  “I asked him to let me know when he’ll be leaving town like that again, so that next time I’ll know not to fix big meals, and he locked up on me like a snapping turtle on a wooden stick.”

  Tears stung the back of her eyes again.

  Eliza laughed. “I’ve never heard that saying before.”

  Seeing the mirth on her friend’s face made Rebecca smile, too. “I think I made it up. Anyway, my point is, if he won’t tell me when he’s going to be home and when he’s not, how will I know how to cook for him?”

  “How about we go have a cinnamon roll and think on that for a few minutes?” Eliza stood up and walked to the door. “I do my best thinking with sweet stickiness coating my tongue.” Her skirts fluttered about her ankles as she hurried to the kitchen.

  Rebecca followed. Eliza wore a brown hat with a little brown bird nestled into ruffles on the side. The feathers on the bird’s head stuck straight up and were light brown in color, matching her dress and scarf beautifully. “That is a cute hat you are wearing this morning.”

  Eliza reached up and touched the brim. “Do you like it? I was concerned the bird might be a bit much.”

  “I do and it isn’t.” The smell of cinnamon and sugar filled her senses as she entered Eliza’s kitchen. It was much cozier than Seth’s, with a colorful tablecloth and matching curtains on the bay window that looked out over her backyard. “I’ll get the coffee.”

  Eliza placed a pot holder on the table and then set the pan of sweet rolls on top of it. “Thank you. Use the teacups, I’m feeling girlish this morning.” She giggled. “Probably because of this hat.” Her hand fluttered up to the brim again.

  She poured the coffee and joined Eliza at the table. “These smell wonderful.”

  “Why don’t you take a couple over to the marshal? You should probably take one for Grace, too. That girl is growing again. Her mother will have her in here any day now for a new dress. I don’t know why Mrs. Miller doesn’t just ask me for the pattern and measurements. She thinks I don’t know that she tears my dresses up and makes her own patterns. But how else would Grace come up with several dresses just like the one I made her?” Eliza stopped talking long enough to bite into the still-warm pastry.

  Rebecca smiled across at her friend. “Thank you, I’m sure they will enjoy them.”

  For a moment Eliza looked confused as if she’d forgotten her original statement, and then she grinned and licked the sugar from her fingers. “Oh, good. Now for your problem. The way I see it you have two choices. One, you can make him dinner anyway, and if he doesn’t come home you can bring it here and we’ll put it in my icebox, or option two, you can go to Farmington and buy him an icebox.”

  “Oh, I’d hate to put you out. I wonder if Mrs. Miller or Mrs. Walker can order one and have it delivered to his house?” Rebecca savored the taste of sweetness as she sunk her teeth into the cinnamon roll.

  Eliza stood. “Maybe, but really it wouldn’t be a problem, if you want to bring the meals back here. You are a good cook, you know.” She smiled mischievously and licked her li
ps.

  “Thank you. But all the same, I think I’ll ask Mrs. Miller after I get the marshal off to work with these cinnamon rolls in his stomach. You aren’t a bad cook yourself, you know.” Rebecca stood, too. She retrieved a plate from the cupboard and placed several rolls onto it.

  “Thank you.” The bell rang over the door in the hat shop. “That will be Miss Grace coming to get you.”

  Rebecca looked about and realized she’d left her shawl in her bedroom. “Would you mind telling her I’ll be right there? I need to fetch my wrap.”

  Eliza nodded and Rebecca hurried back to her bedroom. She grabbed the shawl and took one last look about. The bed was made and covered with a log-cabin quilt done in soft blues and yellows. It matched the curtain over her window. Everything was in its place, just as it should be, she thought. Her heart swelled. She said a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for her comfortable home and then hurried out to greet her young friend.

  “Good morning, Miss Rebecca.” Grace held the plate of rolls in her hands. Her lunch pail sat on the floor beside her.

  Rebecca slipped her shawl about her shoulders and then extended her hands to take the plate. “I’ll take those, so you can carry your lunch pail.”

  Grace handed it over, but the look on her face said she wasn’t pleased. Rebecca tried to hide her grin as she turned to Eliza and said, “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Eliza nodded. “Good, I’ll put on a pot of tea. And maybe make some finger sandwiches. I’ve always wanted to do that. I wonder if Hannah would like to come, too? We could make it into a regular tea party.”

  “I’ll ask her,” Grace said, walking toward the door. “Hurry, Miss Rebecca, I want to try one of those before I have to be at school. They smell wonderful.”

  “Thanks, Grace!” Eliza called after her as the young girl slipped out the door.

  Rebecca closed the door behind them and walked to where Grace waited for her at the end of the sidewalk.

  “Miss Eliza can sure talk fast, can’t she?” Grace jumped off the sidewalk and headed across the back of the lot to the next street.

  Rebecca followed. When the little girl stopped for her to catch up, she answered, “Yes, she can. But she has a heart of gold and is my best friend.”

  Grace’s bottom lip popped out. “I thought I was your best friend,” she complained.

  She reached out and hugged the girl’s shoulders to her. “You are a good friend, and I’m very happy to have you in my life.” Rebecca released her and Grace grinned. “Besides, how would Anna Harper feel if she heard you say I was your best friend?”

  Grace kicked at a rock in the road. “I imagine her feelings would get hurt.”

  “I think so, too.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments. Grace was so much like Joy. Rebecca knew her feelings were still stinging. “You know, I can honestly say that of all my younger friends, you are my favorite.”

  Her brown head came up and hazel eyes looked into hers. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I like that you walk to work with me every day and then walk home with me again after school. It’s nice having a friend to talk to about my day.” Rebecca smiled. Grace usually did most of the talking, but it didn’t seem to matter to the little girl who did the talking, as long as they were together.

  “Me, too,” Grace answered and then skipped ahead to knock on the front door.

  Rebecca held her breath as she waited for him to answer. What kind of mood would he be in this morning? Last night, he’d seemed annoyed, but he hadn’t really said anything to indicate he was angry.

  Clenched jaw and balled-up fists might have indicated that he was, but then again, maybe he was overly tired. Yeah, and maybe you are the biggest dreamer this side of the Rocky Mountains.

  Chapter Nine

  “Good morning, Grace. How are you this morning?” Seth spoke to the child, but his gaze moved to the woman behind her.

  Rebecca wore a soft yellow dress with little blue flowers on it. She’d pulled her hair back into a knot at the base of her neck; he imagined it was easier to work with it up like that, even if it wasn’t the prettiest style. Who was he kidding? The curve of her exposed neck, her sparkling blue eyes and her gentle smile made Rebecca Ramsey the most beautiful woman in this small town.

  “I’m good, Marshal. I’ll be even better when you let us in so we can eat those sticky buns Miss Rebecca is holding,” Grace replied.

  Heat consumed his neck. Seth stepped back and let Grace pass. “By all means, let’s get to whatever smells so good.” He continued to hold the door open for Rebecca.

  She passed him and said, “Good morning to you, too, Marshal.”

  What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he addressed her? Or had he simply stared at her like a schoolboy at a church social?

  He felt like a child who had just been chastised. “Sorry, good morning.” And now he sounded like one, too.

  Grace pranced out the back door declaring she’d bring in the milk from the well.

  Seth took his seat and looked at the cinnamon rolls that Rebecca had placed on the table. His mind wouldn’t stay focused this morning as he watched her pour steaming coffee into a mug.

  Rebecca handed the cup to him and their fingers touched. Did she feel the same sensation in her hand as he did? His gaze moved to look into her blue eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, still holding the mug, still touching his hand.

  The back door slammed as Grace reentered the house. Rebecca’s gaze moved to the table and her hand released the cup. A soft pink stain filled her cheeks before she turned away.

  Lord, please help me this morning, I seem to have lost my senses.

  * * *

  An hour later, Seth stood in the sheriff’s office. His gaze looked out the window, but his mind stayed on Rebecca Ramsey. She’d been quiet during breakfast, with Grace doing most of the talking. At one point she’d looked as if she wanted to ask him something, but then she’d jerked her head to the side and avoided eye contact with him.

  What had gotten into him this morning? He’d acted like a schoolboy looking at his pretty new teacher. Why did Rebecca have that effect on him? Seth shook his head and returned to the stove for a fresh cup of coffee. He sipped the fragrant brew. It didn’t taste nearly as good as Rebecca’s.

  “You’re pacing again, Marshal.”

  Seth stopped and looked at the sheriff. His head was bent over the papers on his old desk. He wasn’t a young man, but Seth wasn’t sure of his exact age. The man’s gray eyes rose to meet his. “What is troubling you, Seth?”

  “Who said something is troubling me?” Seth asked, moving to sit on the corner of his desk.

  “The pacing, the constant gulping of coffee and the furrow between your eyes as you look out the window with unfocused eyes tell me all I need to know.” He returned his attention to his papers.

  Had he been that obvious? Seth glanced down into his half-empty cup. The sheriff was right; he was gulping the hot liquid and hadn’t even been aware of it.

  “If you ask me, I think it’s that Ramsey woman.” The sheriff didn’t look up but continued working.

  Seth exhaled the pent-up air in his lungs. “No one asked you, Bob.”

  “No, I don’t guess so.” He looked up and grinned. “But, I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

  Now would be a good time to change the subject. Seth looked down at the Wanted papers on Bob’s desk. He didn’t recognize any of the men, but he hadn’t really expected to. “How long did you say you were going to be gone?”

  The sheriff scooted his chair back and turned around. He tacked the posters behind his desk. “Most of the summer. Is that what’s troubling you?” He turned back around and rested both his hands on the desk.

  “No, I was just thinking that my life will be a little different over the next few months. As a marshal I go all over the territory. Being acting sheriff will keep me closer to home.” Seth pushed off the desk and walked back to the window.

  Cotto
nwood Springs was a quiet little town that saw very little trouble and for that he was grateful. Of all the towns in the territory, he preferred this one, and the main reason was that it never saw the kind of trouble that, say, Farmington or Durango did. They were bigger towns with bigger problems. Cottonwood Springs didn’t have more than two hundred people in and around it.

  “And closer to Miss Ramsey.” Bob slapped him on the back. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

  Seth mentally pictured Rebecca. He didn’t think she was merely pretty. Her beauty drew his eye, like honey pulled at the bears. “Yes. I’ve been worried about the Evans gang getting too close to her. Jesse thought that she was in danger.”

  Bob leaned against the wall. “And he proved right, if Jacob O’Malley can be trusted.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw that Bob studied his profile. The man evaluated him much like he would a prisoner. “Yes, he did.”

  “Do you want me to see if I can put Sarah Beth off for a few weeks?”

  A smile tugged at Seth’s lips for the first time that morning. “No, your wife would shoot us both if you postpone taking her home to her family.” He laid a hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  Bob laughed. “Yeah, she’d hang us both from the highest tree if I went home and told her I couldn’t go.” He sobered. “I am worried about the Evans gang, though.”

  “Don’t give them a second thought. I can take care of them.” Seth wished he felt as self-assured as he sounded.

  Bob nodded. “I believe you can. And other than the Evans gang messing around, nothing ever happens here.” He walked back to his desk and sat down.

  “What time are you leaving?” Seth asked.

  “First thing in the morning.” He looked at the clean surface and sighed. “I think everything is done here.”