Prisoners of Love: Becky

by Callie Hutton

  Concentration was hard with their heads huddled together as he showed her what she had to do. With a great deal of relief, they finished up, and he left her sitting behind the desk. He made a hurried departure into the night air, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Dealing with brawlers and drunks would be easy after the mixed emotions he’d just been forced to deal with.

  ***

  Becky enjoyed the work Sheriff Jensen had left her with. The sound of snoring came from the back of the jail. She thought about checking to see if the prisoners had finished their meal but decided to stay put. She certainly didn’t need to incur the sheriff’s wrath by getting into trouble again with the outlaws.

  The sun had set while she worked at the sheriff’s desk. She reached over and lit the oil lamp on his desk. The glow it cast over the desk and part of the room gave her a feeling of peace. While she worked, Miss Nellie and Miranda came in from the wagon, laying pieces of clothing over the chairs in the office.

  “We need to dry a few things before we can go to church tomorrow morning.” Miss Nellie laid a pair of drawers with lace trimming over the back of the sheriff’s chair.

  “Um, Miss Nellie, I don’t think this is the best place to dry your underthings.”

  She laughed. “You’re probably right, but I’ve run out of space in the sheriff’s room that I’m sleeping in tonight.”

  Becky just shook her head and went back to work. After about fifteen minutes, the front door of the jail opened, and Sheriff Jensen walked in, each hand gripping the shirt collar of a man. Based on the blood dripping from one man’s nose and the black eye the other one sported, they were probably two of the brawlers the sheriff had referred to.

  He shoved them into the room and came to an abrupt stop. “What the hell is this?” His eyes roamed the room, taking in the various pieces of clothing the women had draped over the furniture.

  “We have to have dry clothes for church in the morning, Sheriff.” Miss Nellie continued to add more clothing to any surface she could find.

  The sheriff tightened his lips. “Do. Not. Continue. I will be right back.” He marched the two men out of the room and down the hallway to where the jail cells sat. The sound of the cell door clanging shut had them all jumping. It appeared the sheriff had reached the limit of his patience with the three of them.

  Miss Nellie chewed her lip as the sheriff came back into the room. He looked around again, his eyes settling on Miss Nellie. “Madam, pick up all these clothes and take them somewhere else.”

  “But, Sheriff, everything in the wagon is wet.”

  “You have use of my room to dry clothes. Not out here.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. “When I return, I expect to see all of this”—he swept his arm around the room—"gone.”

  Becky kept her head down during the exchange, working on the posters. She’d finished filing the captured or killed outlaws’ posters and was ready to hang the posters around the jail of the ones still on the run.

  Grumbling to herself, Miss Nellie picked up the articles of clothing decorating the room and marched to the back of the jail where the sheriff’s room was. Miranda followed behind with her own bundle.

  Once she had finished her work, she made her way out to the wagon to go through her belongings. She pulled out a dress that wasn’t too wet and a set of underwear that hadn’t gotten wet at all.

  After hanging them around the sheriff’s room to dry, she sat on a straight-backed chair against the wall in the bedroom. “We’ll need to wash up before we dress for church tomorrow.”

  Miss Nellie looked up from where she sat on the bed, resting against the wall. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath.” Suddenly, she sat up. “I have an idea.”

  She hoped the idea wasn’t something that would annoy the sheriff again. Most likely the man was mighty tired of the three of them. “What’s your idea?” She studied Miss Nellie with narrowed eyes.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing terrible.” She leaned forward. “I noticed a tub outside when we were rummaging through the wagon. We can drag it in here and take turns having a bath.”

  “And where would we get hot water?” Miranda yawned as she sat on the end of the bed.

  “Well, the sheriff looks like a pretty clean man to me. He must take baths. Where would he get the hot water?”

  The three of them turned as one and looked at the sink on the far wall in the little room. Nowhere was there a stove. “How about a cold bath, ladies?” Miss Nellie sighed.

  The sheriff made another trip and dropped three men into another cell. Becky, Miss Nellie and Miranda had cold baths, but at least they were clean. When it grew close to midnight and she was unable to keep her eyes open any longer, Becky stood and stretched. “I’m headed to bed.”

  “Me, too,” Miranda added.

  Miss Nellie nodded at the two of them. “Good night.” They left the sheriff’s bedroom and walked to the cell he’d given them. The cots weren’t exactly clean, but it was better than the floor or a wet wagon.

  Becky opted not to wear a nightgown but plopped down on her cot dressed in the clothes she’d taken off before her bath. At least she had on clean underwear. She fluffed up the bundle of clothes she was using for a pillow and laid her head down.

  “Miranda?” She tried to keep her voice down so as not to wake the prisoners. Even though they were locked in their cells, they still made her nervous.

  “What?” Miranda said in her very sleepy voice.

  “Don’t you find it funny that we started out in a jail cell and ended up in another one?”

  For a minute, there was no sound except the snoring of the men next to them. Then, Miranda said, “No. Not funny. Not funny at all.”

  Chapter Seven

  After an uncomfortable night spent sleeping on the floor of the jailhouse, Mace groaned as he rolled over and climbed to his feet. He’d spent many a night sleeping on the ground under the stars, but the soft earth made a better bed than the jail floor.

  Since Miss Nellie had commandeered his room at the back of the jail, he was plenty grateful that he kept his coffeepot and fixings in the office part of the jail. He rubbed his face as he lumbered over to the potbellied stove in the corner and started a fire. The sun was just making its appearance when he filled the pot with water from the pump around back, and within thirty minutes he had coffee brewing.

  He assumed it was expected that he would escort the ladies to church. Maybe he should take care that the roof of the church didn’t collapse on their heads when Miss Nellie entered. He chuckled, realizing they were all sinners and the Lord forgave all.

  “Good morning, Sheriff.” His daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of Becky’s soft voice.

  Lord, even in the morning she looked beautiful. She offered him a gentle smile, and at that very moment, he knew he was in trouble. Deep trouble. Not in the criminal sense, but trouble to his heart. Now that was something more frightening than any criminal he’d faced with the business part of a gun pointed at him. A quick death would be nothing compared to a lingering broken heart.

  “Good morning, Becky. I will have coffee ready in a bit.”

  “Oh, wonderful.” Her entire face lit up as she moved further into the room and took a seat. “I love my morning coffee.”

  “This is probably a foolish question, but did you sleep well?”

  She laughed softly, shaking her head. “It find it amusing that Marshal Jones went to so much trouble to get us all out of jail, and then the first night in our new town, we are back in jail.”

  Mace laughed. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  His laugh faltered as their eyes linked. The jail was quiet; the only sound coming from outside was the rumble of the milk wagon, making its deliveries. They stared at each other, two people, alone in the early morning, sharing a laugh, coffee, and a bit of conspiracy. What would it be like to greet her every morning? To see the leftover sleep on her sweet face, to share coffee before he swept her into h
is arms, kissed her goodbye, and left for the jail?

  Thankfully, those thoughts came to an abrupt halt as Miss Miranda and Miss Nellie entered the room. Soon, all four of them were drinking coffee. Obviously thinking ahead, Miss Nellie had grabbed a couple of cups from the wagon before they joined him and Becky.

  “I want the young ladies to make a good impression on the members of the church.” Miss Nellie took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes, making a humming sound. “What church do you belong to?”

  “I worship at the Baptist church, over on First Street.”

  Miss Nellie beamed at him. “Excellent. We shall all become Baptists.” As an afterthought, she turned to the girls. “Do either of you care which church we attend? I’m thinking a church would be a fine place to meet upstanding men.” She waved in Mace’s direction. “Someone like the sheriff here.”

  He tried to tell himself it was his imagination that Becky glanced at him then looked at her lap, a red flush crawling up her face.

  ***

  The church ceiling did not cave in, and Mace felt Miss Nellie and the young ladies made a good impression on the congregation. They all gathered outside after the service, numerous members strolling in their direction to make acquaintances with the women. If their reception at church was any indication of how things would go for them, they should all be married quite quickly.

  For that he was happy. Yes, definitely happy. It would be best when they were all settled with good husbands and out of his hair. And it would be better yet if he told himself that several times a day. Except it was hard when young Richard Dowling kept hanging around Becky. He had no right to consider being anyone’s husband. He needed years to grow into himself.

  On the other hand, Mr. Stevens, the owner of the newspaper, might be widowed and wealthy, but he was far too old for her. He’d get a couple of kids on her and then up and die, leaving her on her own to raise them. No, he wouldn’t do.

  However, nothing drew his ire more than the attention she was receiving from Carl Ledger. The man was a known philanderer with two wives in the ground and six children needing a mother. He was only looking for someone to warm his bed, take care of all those kids, and work herself into her own grave while he went along is merry way. No, he would never do.

  Frustrated at where his thoughts were wandering, he approached Miss Nellie. “I think it might be best to return to the jailhouse. I’m sure you want to finish putting your things to right, and we are due to visit Miss Priscilla this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I believe you’re right.” She waved at Miss Miranda and Becky. “We have work to do, ladies.” She smiled at the group of men still hanging around outside the church. “I understand there is a community dance next Thursday. The girls will be attending. Also, we will be moving into Miss Priscilla’s boarding house Tuesday, if any of you wish to call on them there.”

  Bright smiles and nods of approval followed her announcement, bringing irritation to Mace. As they started back to the jailhouse, he walked alongside Miss Nellie. “There are some men who are not suitable for Miss Becky. You want to watch out for Carl Ledger, especially. I can give you a list of unsuitable men.”

  She turned and regarded him with raised eyebrows. “Sheriff, I’m trying to find husbands for both Miss Becky and Miss Miranda. Did you forget there were two of them?”

  Damnation, he felt like a fool. “Of course,” he hurried on. “I meant both of them. Some men will not be good enough for the young ladies.”

  She glanced at him sideways. “Do you believe yourself to be one of the unsuitable men, Sheriff?”

  He stiffened at her words. “Of course, I am. That should be obvious to you.”

  “Really? And why is that? Are you a wife beater? Heavy drinker? Gambler? Like to visit the brothels?”

  “No. But I enjoy the respect I’ve earned in this town. I’m not about to incur the citizens’ wrath by taking a white woman as a wife.”

  ***

  That afternoon, Becky stood with Miss Nellie and Miranda in Miss Priscilla’s Boarding House parlor. The sheriff had escorted them there, did the introductions, and left, mumbling something about being very busy.

  “Won’t you all have a seat?” Miss Priscilla waved to an arrangement of chairs around a small table next to the large window letting in plenty of light.

  A large woman, both in width and height, Miss Priscilla made Becky feel like a hummingbird standing next to her. But she had a pleasant demeanor and a welcoming way about her. “I understand you young ladies are looking for husbands?”

  “Yes, they are,” Nellie said. “So far we have met some men at church.”

  Miss Priscilla nodded, obviously pleased with how they’d begun their search. “Well, I’m happy to have you with us. As I told the sheriff, I have a nice, large room available that will be vacant on Tuesday.”

  “We would be happy to take the room.” Miss Nellie turned to them. “Hopefully, they will have husbands soon.”

  “And you, Miss Nellie. Are you looking for a husband, as well?”

  All eyes turned to the former madam. At first Miss Nellie looked shocked at the notion, and then she shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  ***

  It took the better part of Tuesday afternoon to drive the wagon to the boarding house, unload their belongings, and get settled. Miss Priscilla offered breakfast and supper with her rooms, so once Becky had enjoyed the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and greens, she excused herself from the table and decided to take a walk to the jailhouse.

  Darkness was just falling when she arrived. She opened the door to see the sheriff ruffling through a stack of papers, a scowl on his face, mumbling to himself.

  “Good evening, Sheriff.”

  He glanced up, a bright smile on his face. “Good evening to you, too. Did you get settled at Miss Priscilla’s?”

  “Yes. All moved in.” She walked up to his desk. “Looks like you have a lot of paperwork there.”

  He plopped the pile he’d been rummaging through on the desk. “I do, at that. I really appreciated your help, but each day brings new telegrams and posters. I have reports I need to write, and all that gets pushed aside.”

  “Why don’t you hire someone?”

  “No budget for it.”

  She fiddled with the pen on his desk. “I could work for you.” She looked up quickly. “You won’t have to pay me. I mean, I have nothing to do all day, anyway. And I’m used to working and am very good with numbers.”

  The sheriff studied her for a minute, looking as though he was wrestling with a great problem. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re supposed to be looking for a husband.”

  She waved her hand. “I won’t be looking all the time, for heaven’s sakes. It’s not as though I need to be scouring the town, looking under bushes. There is the dance coming up, but otherwise, my time is free.”

  “All right.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “You can continue with this since you’ve done it before.” He walked around the desk and took his hat from the hook by the door. “I’ll make my rounds.”

  Well, her offer certainly chased him out of the room fast enough. Sometimes she felt as though he was afraid of her, which was silly with him being a big, strong sheriff, and her a little bit of nothing.

  She set to work, thinking about him being big and strong. A flutter started in her middle and spread throughout her body. Since she had to find a husband and the sheriff didn’t have a wife, why couldn’t she marry him? She could work at the jail and bring him his meals when he was busy.

  The more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed. She pictured herself in a snug little house somewhere in town. It would be the life she’d always dreamed about. When she and Dr. Snodgrass drove in his medical wagon from town to town and territory to territory, they passed little houses exactly like the one she wanted.

  She would see women hanging out wash, calling to childre
n, and greeting a returning husband with a kiss at the door. Any man who had shown an interest in her was quickly discouraged by Dr. Snodgrass. He oftentimes told her he could not run his business without her, and she owed him for taking her off the streets. Yet, he’d left her behind without a word in Dodge City.

  Over the years, a few boys and a couple of men had sneaked a kiss from her, but it always left her with a feeling that something was missing. She felt nothing, except a desire to wipe her lips with the sleeve of her dress.

  What would a kiss from Sheriff Jensen be like? His lips were full and looked soft and warm. Maybe she was naughty just thinking like that. Except she would expect whoever she planned to marry would want to kiss her. She would certainly want to kiss him.

  For the next hour, she worked at his desk, trying to keep her mind on her work and off the sheriff.

  The door opened, and the man continuously in her thoughts since she’d met him walked through into the room. “All is quiet.” He walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “Isn’t that cold?”

  “Nah. With the low fire burning, it stays warm.” He took a sip and grimaced. “Pretty strong, though.”

  “I did quite a bit of work while you were gone.” In fact, with her thoughts constantly going in the wrong direction, it amazed her how much she did actually finish.

  “That’s good. Thank you.” He gulped the rest of the coffee. “I’ll walk you home now. I don’t want you wandering about after dark by yourself.”

  Becky stood and walked around the desk. “Um, first can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  She bit her lip and, taking a deep breath, said, “Will you kiss me?”

  ***

  Damnation! Thank God he had swallowed the last of that coffee, or he would have spewed the entire mouthful all over Becky. “What?” He wasn’t even sure if the word came out right since his ability to think and form words had vanished.

  She tilted her head and offered him a slight smile. “Will you kiss me?”