The man flashed her a smile. This one had a better set of teeth. “I know what you’re thinking, little lady. You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” He shuffled his feet closer to her, and she backed away.
“I think I’ll go get the sheriff, and he can get the other two out.”
“No. Don’t bother the sheriff. He’s busy.” The prisoner looked down the row of people working hard to restore the wagon train. “See. He’s right down there, helping that old man with his stuff.” He turned back to her. “How about the two of us try to get my brothers out? You can’t do it alone, and I can’t do it alone.” He nudged her, turning her stomach as he came close and she got a whiff of his breath. “Partners. We’ll be partners.”
She continued to back up, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Getting even the one man out had been a bad idea. “No. I think not. In fact, I’m probably needed myself. So, if you will excuse me.”
In one swift move, the man threw his tied hands over her head and pulled her against his chest. “No, little lady. You ain’t going nowhere.”
Becky elbowed the man in his stomach, but he merely grunted and pulled her closer against him. “Don’t do that again, girlie. Even with my hands tied, I can choke you to death or break your neck.
“Now, you and me, we’re gonna take a stroll in the mud here and find the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll be only too glad to let us go to keep you from being killed.” He tugged her closer again and leaned down to speak in her ear. “Why, I think he’s hoping to find his way between those sweet legs of yours.”
Becky swallowed the bile that rose to the back of her throat, all the blood leaving her face. She moved her head to the side to avoid the man’s breath and saw Sheriff Jensen stop in the middle of picking up a board and stare in their direction. Slowly, he placed the board on the ground, said something to the man next to him, and with his hands resting on his guns, he walked toward them.
“Well, well, looks like we got your man’s attention.” The prisoner dragged her closer to the ditch and looked down at the other two men. “Here comes the sheriff, boys. We’re almost free.”
***
Mace almost lost his meager breakfast when he looked up from where he was helping the Carters, an older couple whose wagon had been damaged. One of his prisoners was out of the ditch and had his arms around Miss Becky.
He laid down the piece of wood and walked slowly toward the man. As he grew closer, he saw the other two were still in the ditch. The way Bobby held Miss Becky, he could move his hands up and snap her neck or strangle her. He slowed his breathing down and forced himself to relax.
Without saying a word, he continued toward the pair
“I have your girlfriend, Sheriff,” Bobby boasted. “My, she feels good pressed up against me.” He shifted his hips, rubbing up against Miss Becky. “Yeah, she feels mighty fine. Is that how she feels under you?”
Mace did not react, didn’t say a word, just kept walking toward them. The prisoner’s smile dimmed, and he backed up. “Stay where you are, Sheriff, or I’ll strangle her.”
Mace kept moving. He could see the sweat on Bobby’s face.
Once he was within three feet of the pair, Mace slid his gun from his holster and took a few more steps up to the surprised prisoner.
“I’ll strangle her, Sheriff.” His breathing increased. “I will.” He looked around wide-eyed. His two partners watched from the ditch.
Mace placed the serious part of the gun against Bobby’s temple. “Very, very slowly, raise your arms and step away.”
The prisoner didn’t move. Mace cocked the gun. “Now.”
The boy swallowed a few times and then did as Mace said.
“Becky, get behind me.”
She ducked and scurried away and ran behind him. Mace eased the gun away from Bobby’s head and motioned toward the prisoners’ wagon. “Move.”
“I didn’t mean nothing by it, Sheriff. I wasn’t really going to strangle her.”
“Shut up.” His stomach was still in knots, thinking about Becky that close to being hurt. Once they reached the wagon, Bobby stepped onto the first step, and Mace shoved him in the rest of the way. He slammed the door and headed back to the other two prisoners.
Becky stood where he’d left her. He looked over at her. “Don’t move, not one inch. We have something to settle.”
Her eyes grew wide, but he was mad enough at the danger she had put herself into that he didn’t care if he scared her. He shoved the gun into his holster, leaned over the ditch, and pulled one prisoner out, then the other one.
They quietly walked over to the wagon where he shoved the last two in. While he locked the door, he said, “If any of you try something like that again, I’ll shoot you between the eyes.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over at Becky. She was pale and trembling.
Good. He hoped she was scared to death. Taking a deep breath, he strode over to her. “What in blazes were you thinking of to get that close to a prisoner?”
She twisted her fingers, her eyes filled with tears. He refused to back down. He had to make sure she understood how very dangerous her actions had been. He wiped his hand down his face and took a deep breath. “Let’s start at the beginning. How did you end up here and Bobby out of the ditch?”
“I, um.” She stopped and swallowed. “I came over here to rest on the log.” She pointed to the small log next to the ditch where he’d left his prisoners. “They were complaining about being all tangled up and said you had forgotten about them.”
When he said nothing, she continued. “One of them asked if I could help him out of the ditch, and then he could help the other two.” She stopped and studied him. If she thought he was going to let this all slip, she was crazy.
“Go on.”
Becky cleared her throat and continued. “Then I helped him out, and then he wanted me to help the other two, but I said no.” She gave him a slight smile. “That was good, right?”
God, she looked so young. So innocent. It was killing him, knowing he was putting that look of fear on her face. All he wanted to do was grab her and hold her close and tell her he would make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. She’d had it hard most of her life and needed a strong man to look after her.
But not him.
“Yes, that was good. But you should never have even spoken to them, let alone put your hands on them or help them in any way.” He took off his hat and rubbed his short hair. “You have no idea how dangerous those men are. What could have happened to you.”
Two tears ran down her face. “I know. It was a stupid thing to do. I’m sorry.”
The tension had finally left his body, and his shoulders slumped “Let’s sit over here.” He motioned to the fallen tree. It was hard sitting next to her, feeling her warmth, with the soft scent of something flowery drifting from her to his nose.
“Becky, those men are dangerous outlaws.”
She nodded.
“The young boy who had his arms around you, who complained about being uncomfortable?”
“Yes.”
“He shot and killed a young mother, in front of her child, during the bank robbery.”
“No!” She covered her mouth with her hand, shaking her head. “No. That’s terrible.”
“Yes, it is. That’s the sort of man who came this close”—he held up his two fingers about an inch apart—“to strangling you. And he would have done it, too. Neither he or his brothers would hesitate to strangle, shoot, or stab you to death. They have no respect for human life. None.”
Becky covered her face with her hands and cried. Against his better judgment, and despite the warning voice that had taken up residence in his head since he’d met Becky, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.
Heaven. And hell.
Chapter Five
Becky had been crying for a few minutes before she realized she’d soaked the front of Sheriff Jensen’s shirt. She pulled back and wiped her cheeks with h
er hand. “I am so sorry. Look what I’ve done to your shirt.”
She attempted to move out of his arms, but he seemed reluctant to let her go. Eventually, he dropped his hands and stood. “This shirt has been through a rainstorm and a tornado. I believe a few tears isn’t going to destroy it.” His grin lifted her spirits as he reached out his hand to help her up.
“I guess being almost strangled by a prisoner was bad enough, but when you told me about that poor mother, the tears just came.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m just a ninny.”
“No, Becky. You are a soft-hearted woman who has seen a lot, been through a lot, and still keeps her compassion for others.” He raised his hand, as if to touch her face, but stopped mid-movement, and stepped back. “I need to get things done,” he mumbled as he turned and left her standing there.
Before he’d taken more than five steps, he turned back and pointed his finger at her. “Don’t ever do that again.” His soft words made much more of an impression than if he’d shouted them. But then again, that was the way he’d spoken to the man who had held her when he told him to release her. Sheriff Jensen speaking quietly was a powerful force.
As she followed him back to where the travelers were still putting their wagons to rights, she realized he’d called her Becky and not Miss Becky.
“What did you do that had the sheriff all riled up?” Miss Nellie used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “He came stomping back here looking fit to kill someone.”
Becky sighed. “It’s probably me he’d like to kill. I got myself into trouble with one of his prisoners.”
Miss Nellie looked closely at her. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying.”
“Yes. I’m fine. I was just being foolish, I’m afraid.” Foolish in more ways than one. Having Sheriff Jensen’s strong arms around her while she cried felt so darn good. His warmth and closeness made her feel safe. Despite all the work he’d been doing, he smelled of good things. Fresh air, horses, and leather. Very few men in her life had ever hugged her like that.
Even Pa Davidson, for the wonderful father he’d been to her, was not the hugging type. She had no idea how comforting having strong arms around a body could be.
“Well, I’m about ready to clean up and change out of these filthy clothes.” Miss Nellie looked at her and Miranda. “Do you gals want to join me in a quick dip in that creek?” She pointed to a what was no more than a brook on the other side of the ditch they’d all hidden in during the storm. Although narrow, it was full of fresh running water from the recent storm.
“Yes, that looks very inviting,” Becky said. They all three trooped over to the wagon to gather soap, washcloths, and drying cloths. They wouldn’t be able to remove too much of their clothes with everyone from the wagon train in view, but they could at least wash whatever skin they could uncover before changing into clean, dry clothes in the wagon.
***
Becky’s first glimpse of her new town was on a rainy Saturday afternoon. From what the wagon master had told them, rainy days were not too common in Santa Fe. Despite the dreary weather, she was excited to be finished with the rocking of the wagon, the walking in the heat, and no baths.
“Where will we be living until we find husbands?” Becky’s head swung from side to side as they rode down the main street. They passed a mercantile, a bank, a bootery, a small schoolhouse, and a livery. The main street extended for a few blocks, but Miss Nellie stopped their wagon in front of the De Vargas Hotel.
“Right here,” Miss Nellie said in answer to Becky’s question.
The hotel looked inviting enough, but at present, anything would look inviting to Becky. They climbed down from the wagon and shook out their skirts.
“The first thing I want is a meal not cooked over a fireplace.” Miranda smiled, one of the few smiles Becky had ever seen from the somber woman.
“The first thing I want is a bath. In a real bathtub. With hot water.” Miss Nellie’s eyes glowed with happiness as she viewed the building.
Becky was reluctant to voice her desire because what she really wanted was to find out where the sheriff’s office was so she could visit him on occasion. Once he had comforted her after her ordeal with the prisoner, he seemed to avoid her. Perhaps he’d been sorry he had ever been nice to such a ninny as herself.
“Let’s go register and find our room, and then we can get someone from the hotel to bring our things in.” Miss Nellie was all business now that she was looking forward to a bath.
The interior of the hotel was cozy and warm after the coolness of the rainy day. Comfortable-looking chairs were scattered around the room, with a colorful rug covering most of the wooden floor.
Miss Nellie smiled brightly at the young man behind the desk. He’d been reading a newspaper and folded it when they stepped up. “May I help you, ladies?”
“Yes, you may. You should have received a telegram from Marshal Dane Jones, from Dodge City, requesting a room under the name of Miss Nellie Ward.”
The young man frowned. “When would that have been?” He glanced down at his book. “I don’t see any notation here, and I’m afraid we’re all booked up.”
Not one to take these things lying down, Miss Nellie drew herself up and looked down her nose at the clerk. “There must be some mistake. Marshal Jones sent the telegram over a month ago.”
When he just continued to stare at her, his face growing red, she said, “May I speak with the manager, please.”
“Certainly.” Looking relieved, the clerk ran off.
“What are we going to do?” Miranda asked.
“I have no idea. The young man already said they were booked up, so getting the manager doesn’t seem to be worth anything at all, but I had to say something.” Miss Nellie glared at the man’s retreating back.
The desk clerk returned with an older, rotund man, with a full mustache taking up most of the bottom half of his face. He wore a white apron wrapped around his considerable middle. Either he was the hotel cook, or bartender, in addition to manager.
“How can I be of assistance, ladies?”
“You can be of assistance by providing us with the room that was reserved by Marshal Dane Jones of Dodge City over a month ago. The reservation was for three women: Miss Nellie Ward, Miss Miranda Beamer, and Miss Becky Davidson.”
The man shook his head. “I am very sorry, ladies, but we are all booked up. I don’t remember receiving a telegram from the marshal.”
Miss Nellie stared at the man, but he was not fidgeting under her glower as the younger man had done. She sighed. “Very well. Can you recommend another hotel for us?”
The manager scratched his balding head. “There’s only one other, but I would never send ladies over there.” He winked at Miss Nellie. “If you know what I mean.”
Good heavens, the place must have been a cat house. Not that Miss Nellie was unused to such things, but she was probably reluctant to bring the two of them there.
“Well, then. Thank you very much for your trouble.” She emphasized the last word, which finally got a reaction from the manager, who flushed.
With a regal sweep of her skirts, Miss Nellie turned. “Girls?”
Like chicks following a mother hen, she and Miranda fell into step behind her, as they left the hotel.
“Now where do we go?” Becky asked as they climbed back up on the wagon seat. The rain came down harder, and at this point, she was feeling quite miserable. Instead of wishing for a bath or a warm meal, all she wanted was to get out of the rain and off the goldarned wagon seat.
Miss Nellie took up the reins and snapped them at the mules. “To the sheriff’s office.”
***
Mace removed his gun belt, draped it over the hook on the wall behind his bed, and flopped on the mattress. It was good to be home. Between the time it had taken to track down Finnegan and his brothers after the bank robbery and then traveling back with them on the wagon train, he’d been gone over two months.
Maybe h
e was getting too old for this. He enjoyed the comforts of living that had been denied him most of his life. Perhaps it was time to make use of all that money he’d saved over the years that was sitting in the First National Bank of Santa Fe and buy the house he’d dreamed of since he’d received his freedom.
Sometimes being a lawman was almost as bad as the outlaw life, since he, too, was always on the run, chasing the bad guys. He closed his eyes and blocked out the shouting of the three prisoners he’d just locked away. His room behind the jail was peaceful most times, except maybe Saturday nights when it seemed the entire town attempted to drink itself dry.
A home, a wife, and a family. Probably way out of reach for a former slave, but so was working as a well-respected lawman, and he’d done that. A wife seemed the most difficult item to complete his dream.
Santa Fe’s population boasted many Mexican women he could probably marry up with, but now that he’d met Miss Becky Davidson, they no longer appealed to him. Except he would be plumb crazy to think she would ever have him. Or, if she were crazy enough to say yes, they would be run out of town the day after the wedding.
“Sheriff Jensen?” Damnation, was he thinking of her so much that he actually heard her voice?
“Sheriff, are you here?” Now that was Miss Nellie’s voice, and since he would never conjure her up, the women he thought he’d left behind on the wagon trail were in his office.
He hopped up and strapped his gun belt back on. Grabbing his hat from the hook by the door leading from his bedroom to the jail, he strode past the cells with the Finnegan gang still complaining and came to an abrupt halt.
Miss Nellie and her two charges stood in his office. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He tugged on his hat. “What brings you here?”
“I’m afraid we’re in a dilemma, Sheriff.”
He waved to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.” He moved around the back of his desk and dragged out his chair for the third woman to sit. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip on the edge of the desk. “What’s the matter?”
Prisoners of Love: Becky Page 5
