Her Fearless Love (Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride) (A Western Historical Romance Book)

by Florence Linnington

  Steve didn’t sleep a wink. Any time he got even close to drifting off, he jerked awake. The horror of what was to come was just too much for him to take. He’d briefly considered riding down to Shallow Springs that night and speaking to Sheriff Ross, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the sheriff came up to Whiteridge, and so he’d decided to wait.

  And wait.

  Breakfast passed with no knock on the door. Bonnie had bags under her eyes too, and her shoulders slumped forward as she stirred but did not eat her oatmeal.

  “At least we’ll likely have this settled today,” Steve said. “I doubt the sheriff will wait any longer to come and question me.”

  Bonnie blinked in confusion. “How can it be settled? They will see your revolver and...” Her chin and lips trembled.

  “And I’ll explain it all to the sheriff,” Steve said.

  He was acting more confident than he felt. Steve didn’t really know what his story would do. Best guess, it would sink him even deeper into this pile of dung. He had no alibi. He owned the bullets. He had a motive.

  On the trail, he met up with Neil. He’d stopped in to visit his friend the night before, giving him a brief rundown of what was happening. Neil has suggested leaving town, but Steve had already ruled that out as an option. He was going to be an honest man and face whatever came his way.

  “It’ll be fine,” Neil told him as they set out on the main road.

  Steve nodded but said nothing. His legs were heavy as lead as they trudged across the mountain to the mine. It felt weird to go to work when he also felt he was only waiting for a noose to be slipped around his neck, but what else was he to do? Life needed to go on as usual.

  The first strange thing Steve noticed as he drew close to the mine was the quiet. Usually, men talked and laughed as they headed into the mine. This morning, though, there was none of the usual commotion.

  In the field, a canvas was stretched above the table to provide shade. There, Joe Walker, the foreman, stood talking to Sheriff Ross. Near them, half a dozen miners stood around with serious looks on their faces.

  Steve and Neil exchanged a glance, and all the muscles in Neil’s face tightened.

  “I need to do this now,” Steve said, under his breath.

  He’d worn his pistol and holster that morning because that’s what he did every day. Not putting it on would look strange, like he had something to hide.

  Swallowing hard, his palms sweating, Steve walked up to the shade of the canvas. Neil’s footsteps thudded behind him, and Steve took a small amount of comfort from his friend’s presence.

  “Joe.” Steve tipped his hat. “Sheriff Ross.”

  Both men looked over at him.

  “Huebner,” Sheriff Ross said. “Good morning.”

  “I figure I know why you’re here, sheriff,” Steve said. Skipping the pleasantries was best. If he didn’t get out what he needed to, he’d die of the nerves.

  The sheriff’s eyebrows pushed together. “Why’s that?”

  Steve glanced over Sheriff Ross’ shoulder. Half of the miners standing around had caught wind of the conversation and listened with cocked heads. Word flew fast in Whiteridge, so Steve figured there was no point in hiding what he was about to do. Let everyone who wanted to be witness be just that. Maybe it would help raise people’s opinions of him if he voluntarily surrendered his gun.

  “I suppose you heard that Bonnie found that bullet from a Folsom 1890,” Steve said.

  “That’s right.” Sheriff Ross studied Steve coolly.

  Joe spoke up. “Sheriff Ross asked to come here and inspect all the miners’ guns.”

  A few mutters came from the miners nearby, but Steve only nodded. “I’m willing to turn mine over for inspection, but I feel I should tell you first, Sheriff, that I have a Folsom 1890.”

  Sheriff Ross’ eyes widened, and Steve hurried to speak again before anyone else got the chance.

  “I bought it last year off a traveling peddler,” Steve said, “right outside of Pathways. It wasn’t the only one he had. There must have been a half dozen more he was selling, along with other goods.”

  Steve let the suggestion that someone else in the area could have also purchased the same gun hang there.

  Sheriff Ross nodded and held his hand out. “May I?”

  Aware of all the eyes on him, Steve took his gun out of the holster and handed it to the sheriff, who gave it a quick inspection before handing it back.

  “I’ve never even fired it,” Steve said. “I use my shotgun for hunting.”

  Sheriff Ross eyed him. “It’s clean.” He paused. “Course, you could have cleaned the residue off since using it last.”

  Steve stiffened.

  “I’m only pointing out the facts,” Sheriff Ross said. “And we still need to inspect every other miner’s holster.”

  Steve nodded. There was a lot to be read between the sheriff’s words. It could be that another man in town possessed the same gun. It could be Steve was the only one. The Sheriff had a duty to find out.

  Steve desperately hoped the latter wasn’t the case.

  Joe cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted across the field, so even the miners just walking up could hear him. “Everyone bring their guns up here for inspection! Form a line! The workday is postponed until we get this done with!”

  Steve stepped to the side, waiting in the shade of a tree while every other miner laid his gun on the table for inspection. In Wyoming Territory, every man wore a gun. It was nonsense to think of traipsing around without one on your hip. Today, every miner showed up and set his gun down.

  Which meant no one had been tipped off to what was happening and made a point to leave their gun at home to evade capture.

  As the line neared its end, Steve found it harder to breathe. Finally, the last man put his revolver down.

  That was it. No other Folsom 1980s. Steve owned the only one.

  Sheriff Ross gave Joe a solemn nod. “We’re done here.”

  “Right, men.” Joe rolled his finger through the air. “To work.”

  Steve stayed where he was, knowing there was no way in Hades he was off the hook that easily.

  Sheriff Ross looked at Steve. “There could be others in town that have this revolver. Or the bullets. Though your shop keep, Mullins, already informed me it’s unlikely a man is using the bullets without the sister gun.”

  Steve nodded, doubting his ability to speak.

  “I’m going to inspect the gun of every other man in Whiteridge. My deputy has already taken care of Pathways, and I’ve done Shallow Springs.” Sheriff Ross paused. “But, I need to go ahead and take you in, Steve. I hope you understand why.”

  Steve’s throat turned thick.

  “No, you don’t!” Neil stepped up next to Steve and stared Sheriff Ross down. “You yellow-bellied...”

  “Neil,” Steve said sharply. “He has to.”

  Steve did understand. Things were looking bad for him now. Real bad. The only hope he could cling to involved his being cooperative and doing what was told with no resistance. If he did not cooperate, it would only make him look worse.

  At least Sheriff Ross didn’t put him in handcuffs. Steve took comfort in that as he was escorted down the road and to his house.

  “You can collect some clothes and other things,” Sheriff Ross said, “and then we’ll go to the jail cell in Shallow Springs.”

  Steve nodded stiffly. What was the point in protesting?

  “If there are others who also have the Folsom gun, we’ll bring them down and question them as well. If not...”

  “If not?” Steve asked.

  “It’ll be you up for trial.”

  “I didn’t do it, sheriff.”

  Sheriff Ross shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Whether you did or not, Steve, you’d say the same thing either way.”

  Steve nodded. He’d done what he could. For some reason, God had plopped him in the middle of a situation that was breaking him. All he could do
now was surrender.

  23

  23. Bonnie

  Chapter twenty-three

  Bonnie did not know what to think when she saw Steve and Sheriff Ross approaching the cabin barely more than an hour after her fiancée had left for work. From a distance she was not able to read their faces, and she managed to convince herself that all was well. The men were simply coming to tell her that they had discovered the identity of Mr. Hawkins’ killer. And that Steve was no longer a suspect.

  As they drew nearer, though, she saw their tight expressions. She noticed for the first time the stiff way they moved. And she knew: the news they carried was bleak.

  Bonnie held onto the cabin’s doorframe. She would not break down. She had done that the day before, in front of Steve. But she would remain steadfast in her support of him in front of Sheriff Ross and all of society.

  They stopped in the yard, and Sheriff Ross tipped his hat to her. They briefly caught gazes, and then he quickly looked away.

  “So far, I’m the only one who has the gun,” Steve said, each word flat and toneless.

  Bonnie’s inhale sharply, the breath burning her nose and throat. Her gaze snapped back to Sheriff Ross. She had promised herself she would not break down, but she found her anger nearly impossible to check.

  “Sheriff Ross, I hardly see this as a reason for an arrest.”

  “It’s protocol, ma’am.”

  “Bonnie.” Steve gave her a pleading gaze. “Just let it be. All right?”

  “Let it be?” she spat, the little self-control she had been clinging to lost. Her had cut through the air. “He is arresting you on circumstantial evidence, and I am supposed to simply let it be?”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” Steve asked. His voice was so hushed it silenced her. Bonnie dropped her arm and simply stood there.

  “He’ll have a fair trial,” Sheriff Ross said. “We’ll have the judge from Cheyenne come.”

  An awful agony swept through Bonnie, and for a moment she feared she would black out. She had grown up without a mother, and though she’d always felt that maternal presence missing in her life, it was something she had grown used to. After losing her father, she’d felt broken, but she knew she would pull through. He had taught her to be strong, to always persevere. Because of him, she believed there would be brighter days ahead.

  But if she lost Steve... The only person she had left in the world...

  How could she believe there was anything good beyond that?

  “See?” Steve asked her. “A fair trial. And it could be there is someone else in town with the same gun.”

  “But no miner has it,” she clarified.

  “That’s right,” Sheriff Ross said.

  Her attention remained on Steve. “How many men are there in town who don’t work at the coal mine? Five? Seven?”

  Steve’s lips tightened. “I need to pack up a bag, Bonnie.”

  She swallowed. “Right. Sheriff Ross, may I have a few minutes alone with my fiancée? I imagine it’s the least you can do for us right now.”

  “Bonnie,” Steve said in warning.

  She huffed. “Right. I apologize, Sheriff Ross.” Though the apology did not quite come across as sincere.

  She would try to be cordial if that was what Steve wished.

  Sheriff Ross gestured at the cabin. “I’ll wait out here.”

  Steve followed Bonnie into the cabin and she shut the door firmly behind them. With the sheriff on the other side of the wood, tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them back. No crying. Especially not in front of Steve.

  As he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, though, she found it nearly impossible to hold the sobs back.

  “Why is this happening?” she asked in a shaky whisper. “You did nothing wrong. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Steve murmured back. “At this point, all we can do is put our faith in God.”

  “That is hard to do when it feels like he is taking everything from us.”

  “I know.” Steve hugged her tighter, and she breathed in deep, committing his scent to memory. When would she see him again?

  “We don’t know what’s coming next,” Steve said, “and that’s the truth of the matter. It could be that my arrest somehow helps all this get resolved.”

  A forbidden tear hit Bonnie’s chin, and she quickly wiped it away. “That makes little sense, Steven Huebner, and you know it.”

  “And what part of this does make sense?” he asked.

  Steve cupped Bonnie’s face with both hands. “We’ll make it through this.”

  Bonnie bit back the wail that wanted to escape. What if Steve was found guilty? What would be done with him? Would he...? Could they possibly...?

  Bonnie forced herself to not even finish that thought.

  “All that needs doing,” Steve said, “is finding out who really did kill Hawkins. After that, I’m off.”

  Bonnie laughed bitterly. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  Bonnie shut her eyes, and the tears burned even more. She almost wished Steve would not put on such a brave face. Could he not mourn with her for a minute or two?

  An instant later, though, and she realized she would not be able to bear having things that way. She was enough of a disaster all on her own. If Steve were to break down as well, she would likely go completely mad.

  “We need to pack your bag.” Bonnie lifted her chin and straightened her back. “It will be cold there.”

  She got busy packing the thickest quilt and fluffiest pillow. To the bag, she added a change of clothes and the rest of yesterday’s bread. On a last thought, she tucked in her copy of William Blake’s poems. The book was dear to her, and when Steve saw her putting it on top of his folded clothes, he touched her wrist.

  “You read that almost every night,” he protested.

  “Which is why I want you to take it,” Bonnie said. “His words bring me great comfort, and I want you to have the same experience.”

  Steve’s throat rolled as he swallowed. “I’ll cherish it.”

  “I know you will,” Bonnie whispered, unable to get her voice any louder.

  She closed the bag up, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Cupping the back of her neck, Steve pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was full of more emotion than any touch they’d ever shared, and Bonnie’s heart ached so badly she feared it would explode.

  It seemed the kiss ended as soon as it began. Steve took his bag, squeezed Bonnie’s hand, and together they went to the door.

  Sheriff Ross stood in the yard, his back turned to the cabin. He glanced over his shoulder as they came out, but then looked away again, allowing Bonnie and Steve one last moment of privacy. The act warmed Bonnie’s heart a bit, and she realized she probably had been too callous toward the sheriff. The man truly was only doing his job.

  “Goodbye,” Bonnie whispered.

  Steve gave her a quick kiss. “For now.”

  She nodded, her lips pressed tight so they wouldn’t tremble.

  Bag in hand, Steve set off with Sheriff Ross. Bonnie stayed where she was, each breath raking the inside of her chest like claws. Steve did not turn around, and Bonnie knew it was because doing so would be too hard.

  They had said their goodbyes, and he’d promised it was ‘for now,’ but how could Bonnie know that was the truth?

  After the two men disappeared down the trail, Bonnie looked behind her, into the empty cabin. Not able to bear the emptiness, she turned and looked back outside to the yard. She took in the thick grass, and the pitiful garden that she’d been doing her best to nurse back to health. On the clothesline, a sock of Steve’s that she’d forgotten to bring in with yesterday’s laundry still swung in the breeze.

  She had been alone before. She had thought she had grown used to the feeling. But now, standing in the empty doorway of the home that her fiancée should have been in but wasn’t, Bonnie experienced a kind of loneliness she never had before. It m
oved in across the landscape like an unexpected rainstorm, blocking out all the sun, before sweeping down and consuming her.

  There was no more Steve. No more Bonnie. There was no more life. No more hope or strength. There was only emptiness--the kind that stretched into forever.

  24

  24. Bonnie

  Chapter twenty-four