The Lonely Lawman and His Belle

by Lilly Inman

  The Old Man raised his hands in exasperation and turned away into the kitchen. Isabelle heard rummaging in a cupboard and the clink of a whisky bottle against a glass. She glared at Joe.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “Can’t you just leave it to the Wilson County Sheriff? He has more men under his command. Plenty of them to get the job done.” Isabelle tried to reason with him but Joe was too determined. She recognised the stubborn look in his eye from herself.

  “Isabelle…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering, but returned to her right away with conviction. “Someone needs to bring them to justice.”

  “Then I’m coming too.” Isabelle folded her arms.

  “No, if you get hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.” He paused. “This is something I have to do by myself.”

  “I…” Isabelle paused. “I don’t want you to go.”

  Isabelle looked at her feet, swallowing down a great lump in her throat, and a lock of her hair escaped from her long braid. It fell over her face and Joe tucked it behind her ear. “I’m scared.”

  He took Isabelle’s face in his hands and lifted it gently. His warm touch sent a shiver down her body. Her eyes were glued to his.

  “Don’t worry about me; go back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He smiled at her sweetly. “I’ll be waiting for you with coffee when you wake up.”

  Isabelle’s heart creased and tears brimmed in her eyes.

  “This will all be over soon, Belle.”

  Joe kissed her on the cheek and pulled her into a tight embrace, his face hovering beside hers for a few seconds longer. Isabelle closed her eyes and tried to memorise the sensations; his prickly stubble grazing her right cheek, his warm breath behind her ear, his rough hand holding her left cheek, thumb stroking her skin.

  Then he pulled himself away from her and left, not looking back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Joseph’s horse thundered across fields as he raced towards the Wilson township. He spurred him on eagerly, pressing forward and digging his heels into the horse’s flank. There wasn’t much time.

  “Almost there now, keep it up,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the horse.

  He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but he couldn’t keep thoughts of Isabelle from intruding. He longed to be back with her. But first these outlaws had to be dealt with, once and for all.

  Joe went over the plan silently in his mind while the horse soldiered on.

  He was to go straight to the saloon, not stopping by his office or the Wilson county law enforcement office either. Time pressed. The other deputies would join him there, encircling the saloon and waiting for the Wilson County Sheriff, and only the Wilson County Sheriff, to signal when to act. Joseph bit his lip and wiped rain out of his eyes. He was already soaked to the skin.

  The wind stung his face as he galloped on. The time had almost come.

  He approached the outskirts of the large town and prayed that there wouldn’t be any locals outside at this time. The pouring rain should have discouraged any stragglers from staying outside.

  The Sheriff had arranged for some of his men to wait inside the saloon, assuming the role of false patrons, while protecting the real customers as they drank to forget their troubles. Joseph was to join the rest of the men outside.

  The horse slowed as he neared the destination, and Joe nodded silently to a man he recognised as one of the Sheriff’s deputies. He dismounted quietly and calmed his horse. The air was thick with tension.

  Joe crept around a few buildings, taking care to make as little noise as possible. He was getting closer. His heart pounded in his throat as he continued forward, peering around the side of a shop into an alleyway.

  Dark shadows in the courtyard stopped him in his tracks. Joe looked around in search for the Sheriff’s men, but there was not another soul in the street. He was alone.

  A chill went down Joseph’s spine as he listened to the men. They spoke with the same accents as he’d heard, all those years ago, on the end of that train. Suddenly he was transported back to that day.

  His small boy hands gripped the bars of the railing.

  “Father, look!” he’d called out, panicked. “Father!” But no-one came.

  Five men dressed in black and armed with heavy metal rifles came galloping alongside the train, shrieking and hollering terribly. Scarves covered their faces but one man pulled his down and grinned devilishly at Joseph as he passed, revealing a horrible scar gauged out of his cheek and lip. Joe had cowered in fright, not brave enough to run or to fight. To this day he was still woken up with the terrified screams of passengers ringing in his ears.

  Joe felt sick at the memory. His kneecaps jumped up and down as violent tremors came over him. Was he strong enough to do this?

  Joe watched as the men in the courtyard loaded their rifles and tied their scarves round their necks, pulling them up over their faces. He cast his eyes around desperately, imploring another deputy to come and help—this was an opportune moment. No sign of the Sheriff, either. Nobody was near. He’d just have to take measures into his own hands.

  The men laughed as one of them described how he much he enjoyed terrorising the residents. He bragged about how easy it was to get away with crime in this area. Joe’s blood curdled in his veins and his heart steadied his nerves immediately. He knew that voice.

  Robertson.

  A scowl spread across his face and his heart was filled with rage. Murderous rage.

  He swallowed, his gaze fixed on Robertson. He should just kill the man there and then. Joe slid his gun out of the holster by his hip and removed the security latch. He raised his arm steadily, his finger grazing the cool metal trigger. Zoning his focus in on the jeering man, he closed one eye. All surrounding sounds faded away.

  A hand clamped down hard on his shoulder.

  “I’d lower my weapon if I were you, boy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Isabelle threw the covers off her body and huffed out of bed for the fourth time that night. Her stomach was knotted with worry. She couldn’t sleep.

  She prayed that Joseph would be alright. But she couldn’t help it—she was mad.

  He’d refused her help, again. Isabelle was angry at Joe for not being able to change. And she was mad at herself for caring so much about him.

  At her desk, she dropped herself down into the seat and scribbled out a letter.

  Joseph,

  I simply cannot not stay here any longer, in a lonely house, watching you become your step-father. I cannot take it any more.

  I will leave Close Ridge in the morning. I am sorry things turned out this way.

  Please forgive me.

  Isabelle

  As the words stained the paper with their black ink, it was painfully obvious. She couldn’t leave him. He was magnetic. She couldn’t do it. Isabelle screwed the paper up and launched it at the door across the room in frustration. How had he done this to her, captivating her in his regard, and yet when she implored him to stay he could just brush her off and move on so easily?

  She thought of her father—she had become just like him. He was completely lost when her mother had died.

  At least that was something she and Joseph had in common. They were both going to end up like their fathers, stubborn and alone.

  Isabelle scolded herself for falling in love. She’d always known it—when you love, you get hurt.

  *

  She marched down the stairs and into the kitchen. No use trying to sleep—she was in too much of a bad mood.

  The Old Man was sitting, back to the door, with nothing but the soft glow of a single candle to provide light. He jumped up in his seat as she entered, surprised, and clasped his hand to his chest.

  “Oh, Isabelle! Don’t do that to an old man!” His chuckle turned into a cough.

  Isabelle studied him carefully. “Are you feeling alright, Jim?”

  He brushed the question off. “Just couldn’t sleep, that’s
all.”

  She directed her gaze pointedly at the bottle of whisky on the table and the glass in his hand.

  “Oh, the whisky helps calm my nerves. You should try it,” he added with a smirk. “You’ve had a difficult day.”

  Isabelle was fired up enough already. “No, thanks,” she said, sitting down next to him at the table. She rubbed her eyes. “How do you do it, Jim?”

  He gave her a kind of sad half-smile. “You’ve just got to love the boy,” he shrugged.

  It was as simple as that. And she did.

  The Old Man saw her sadness and rubbed her back. “There, now, no need to get upset. He’ll be home shortly, I’m sure.”

  Isabelle had started to cry.

  “We’ll just need to wait here at home for him. Nothing we can do.” He poured himself another whisky and swirled it pensively around his glass.

  Isabelle clenched her fists tightly. “But I can’t just sit around and wait for him. What if he’s in trouble?” The candlelight flickered and brought her stony expression to life.

  “I have two options: go and help Joe catch the bad guys, or wait here for the messenger to bring us his body in the morning.” She stood up determinedly.

  The Old Man looked startled. He reached out to her. “Wait, Isabelle, this is not a fairy tale. You don’t know what it’s like, there’s real danger out there—”

  Isabelle interrupted him. “I’m going to find him.”

  She hurried out the kitchen and into the rain.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I said, I would lower my weapon, boy.” The low voice emphasised each word carefully.

  Joe let his arm fall to his side. Something sharp dug into his back.

  “That’s better,” said the mystery voice. The man was standing so close to Joe that he could smell his sour breath. Joe’s nostrils wrinkled at the foul odour.

  The man tugged on Joe’s shoulder so that he would turn around to face him.

  Joe paled when he was face-to-face with the man. His face was creased with wrinkles and he had shaggy dark hair which fell over his eyes, but Joseph could still make out the long, ugly scar across his cheek and lip. Joe recognised him immediately.

  His heart was pounding in his ears but he remained calm. A quick glance down to the man’s hands revealed what had been digging into Joe’s back just previously and which was now pointed directly to his heart—a pistol.

  The man looked Joe up and down, his gaze lingering on the shiny Sheriff badge pinned to his jacket. “Fancy.” He laughed “Close Ridge,” he read aloud. “Sheriff. That old Jim Fraser finally give up the ghost?” The man turned his head to the side and spat. He turned back to Joe, smirking hideously. “Useless Sheriff. Never could catch me.”

  “Jim Fraser is a good man,” Joe said firmly, his fists balled up at his side. “He did a lot for our community,” he added, trying to remain calm.

  The man’s face cleared as it dawned on him and he waved his gun in front of Joe’s face. “I know you,” he taunted him.

  Joe’s eyes followed the barrel of the gun, then flickered back to the man’s face.

  “You’re that kid from that train,” he chuckled. “That was a nice run, back then. Warm place in my heart for the Missouri River. Got a lot of good bounty from those passengers.” He nodded appreciatively, as if to congratulate himself.

  Joe’s face turned red as a violent anger bubbled up inside his chest.

  The man toyed with his gun as he spoke. “Oh, I remember a little boy, all alone. Whatever happened to his parents?” he jeered. The amusement fell from his face and his expression turned sour. “Bet you still had an easier life than me,” he muttered bitterly.

  Joe took a step forward but the man threatened him with the pistol. “Oh, no, don’t even think about it.”

  “My parents were good people. They didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Your parents got exactly what they deserved.” He said darkly. “Shouldn’t ever have gotten rid of me from the ranch, is all.” He wiped the rain from his brow.

  Joseph frowned, his mind racing.

  “Oh yes, that’s right. I knew your parents well, Joseph.” The man sneered as he said Joe’s name. “They sure didn’t like me after a while. Don’t know why though. All I did was take a little food home to eat,” he said, feigning innocence.

  “You stole three bags of corn and took all the money from the safe. My father caught you red-handed,” Joe pointed out, trying to remain calm. The other men hadn’t noticed him yet, but his senses were on high alert.

  “He didn’t need it,” the man shrugged. “You all was born into money. Plenty to go around.”

  “My parents worked hard to earn their living. They were good, honest people.” Joe spoke evenly. “We experienced a lot of hardship, but we didn’t need to go around stealing or killing. My parents didn’t deserve to die.” Joe’s fought hard to keep his voice hushed. He could be seen any minute.

  “You don’t know what it’s like for someone like me,” the man growled. The rain bounced around them.

  Someone called out behind Joe and the villain’s eyes strayed for just a second. Joe didn’t think twice. He pushed the man’s hand away, sending the gun flying, and punched him square in the face.

  The man reeled. “You’re going to regret you ever touched me, Cartwright.” Clutching his bloody nose, the man grabbed a glass bottle from a crate beside him, smashing it against the wall. He brandished the sharp edge at Joe, smirking. “Looks like I got a new weapon.”

  He lunged at Joseph. Men were shouting all around them. Joe sidestepped the blow easily and drew back his fist, ready to strike.

  A single gunshot ripped through the air and Joseph fell to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Isabelle!”

  She was already half-way through the field, but she ignored the Old Man calling her name. She was going to help Joe whether he liked it or not.

  “Isabelle, wait!”

  She’d almost reached the stable. “You can’t stop me, Jim,” she cried.

  “I don’t want to stop you.”

  Isabelle didn’t recognise the voice and turned around in confusion. Matthew was bearing down fast upon her. He dug his heels into the horse to slow him and reached out to Isabelle. “Get up here. Joe needs us.”

  *

  The horse pounded through the streets. Isabelle and Matthew guided him on, searching. They shielded their faces from the rain, their eyes scouring the dim light for any sign of Joseph or the other men. And then they heard it.

  The gunshot.

  The horse reared and refused to go any further. Isabelle’s stomach knotted. She climbed down and raced off in the direction of the bang.

  “Isabelle, no! It’s not safe!” Matthew called after her but she only had one thing on her mind. Joseph.

  When she saw him, lying inert on the ground, alone, she felt all hope leave her spirit. She rushed across the empty courtyard to him.

  “No, please, no…” she sobbed, her tears mixing with the raindrops rolling down her face. She reached out and he stirred, groaning. Relief flooded her body. “Oh, Joseph. You’re alive.”

  “Am I?” he winced in pain as Isabelle dragged him to sit upright, leaning against a stack of wooden crates. His hand went instinctively to his left shoulder and he tested the wound under his jacket. When Isabelle pulled back his hand, his fingers were blood red. She gasped.

  “You’re hurt. We need to get you to a doctor—”

  “You won’t be going anywhere, miss.” A man spoke from behind her.

  Suddenly the man grabbed her and wrenched her upright, pulling her arms behind her and dragging her backwards. She stumbled, but her eyes never left Joseph’s.

  Joe’s face creased in pain. “Let her go.” His words rang out clearly despite his weakening strength. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  Isabelle watched in silence as Joe writhed in pain, his arm reaching along the ground. She saw him slip something into his pock
et. He winked at Isabelle, and then his face creased as he hauled himself up with difficulty and tried to stand.

  Joe stood, lop-sided, leaning against the stack of crates for support. “I told you,” he paused to catch his breath, “to let her go.”

  “But what will you give me in return?”

  “Immunity.” Joe stated simply. “Won’t come after you any more. Do what you want.” His voice rasped. “Somewhere else.”

  Isabelle spotted some movement from the corner of her eye. Matthew nodded at her discreetly.

  “That’s a shame, I kinda like it here.” The man tugged at Isabelle. Something cool and sharp was pressing into her throat. “I like this young woman, too.” His grubby hands stroked her neck. Isabelle whimpered in fear.

  More movement in the shadows. Anxiety mounted.

  Joe’s fist balled up. “You got one last chance to let her go.”

  “Oh yeah? Says who?”

  Joe locked eyes with Isabelle. “Says me.”

  With his words, Isabelle stomped down hard on the man’s foot and he cried out in pain. The man threw her down and shouted, “You—!”

  Matthew pounced from the shadows and grabbed the ring-leader, forcing him down onto his knees. The Wilson County Sheriff stepped out from the shadows and his men came forward too, pushing the rest of the outlaws in front of them. Each man had his hands bound and looked thoroughly displeased. The Sheriff nodded at Joe.

  During the short commotion, Joe had drawn himself up to his full height and had a pistol pointed at the villain’s face. His left arm hung limp by his side. “I ought to shoot you right here,” he said. He sighed angrily and lowered his gun.

  The Wilson County Sheriff stepped forward and bound the ringleader’s hand behind his back.

  “Thank you, boys.” He said gruffly and the men led the captured criminals away. Robertson spat at Joe and the deputies pushed him onwards.

  Isabelle ran to Joe’s side. She just managed to catch him as he collapsed.

  “Told you everything would be over soon.” He smiled weakly up at her, his dimple only just visible, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He had passed out.