By the time she reached the platform the train had long left the station and was disappearing over Dawson's Ridge. Turning, she ran over to the mercantile.
Pushing through the doorway, she stopped to catch her breath. Sucking air into her lungs, she shouted, "Mr. Jules ! Mr. Jules ! I need you to come with me this instant."
"What's wrong?"
Running down the dry goods aisle, she went around the back of the counter and grabbed the man by the arm. "I'll explain to you on the way to catch the train."
"What train?"
"Come along, Mr. Jules. We can't waste any more time."
By the time they'd managed to get the wagon hitched to a team of horses and started to move out of town, Abigail could see only a small puff of steam trailing the train, which was growing smaller and smaller as it chugged on to it's next stop.
"Hurry up! He's going to get away."
"Who is going to get away?"
"Cole Stanton."
Mr. Jules slapped the reins against the backside of the horse. "Yah! Yah!" he yelled. The horses picked up their pace, but Abigail was afraid they'd be too late to apprehend Mr. Stanton.
She grabbed the side of the wagon seat as they gained momentum.
"There's a steep grade coming up. We'll be able to catch up to them there," Mr. Jules assured her.
Sure enough, a few minutes later the train came into view. As they drew closer, Abigail tried to plan out what she was going to say to Mr. Stanton.
After running a few ideas through her mind, she decided that the direct approach would be best. "Pull up alongside the train, Mr. Jules."
With the reins gripped between his fingers, he jerked his head around to look at her. "Are you crazy? I can't pull up alongside a moving train."
Ignoring his concern, she shouted above the noise of the train, "Just pull up next to the train!"
As the engine began its ascent the speed began to slacken, giving her the opportunity to try to stand up. She managed to get far enough up to see into the windows of the cars. She began searching for Mr. Stanton. When she didn't see him in the last car, she urged Mr. Jules on.
"Sit down, Sheriff."
Ignoring his order, she continued to look into the windows of the next car. Her gaze settled on a lone man, sitting in the middle of the car. He appeared to be sleeping with his hat pulled low over his brow; she'd recognize his form anywhere. Cole Stanton. She had him right where she wanted him. Well, almost. Where she really wanted him was back in jail where he belonged.
As the train slowed, Mr. Jules was able to bring the wagon right up to a set of steps. "I'm getting off. You go on ahead and tell the engineer to stop."
"What do you mean you're getting off?"
Abigail didn't have time to argue with him.
Repositioning herself in the wagon, she waited until they were right by the steps and then carefully stepped onto the moving train. Waving Mr. Jules on, with her gun drawn, she found her way into the car where Mr. Stanton was sleeping.
Using the toe of her boot, she gave him a swift kick in the shin. Pushing the brim of his hat back, he opened his eyes, staring down the barrel of a gun. Slowly, deliberately, he let his gaze wander up the gun, over her hand, until finally he was looking her right in the eye.
Pushing himself up to sit straighter in the seat, he said, "Good afternoon, Sheriff."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Stanton."
Looking into those dark eyes, she imagined him thinking that he could charm his way out of this latest dilemma.
A slow seductive smile crept across his face. "Did you miss me already?"
Annoyed when he really did put on a charming front, she replied, "No. I'm placing you under arrest."
Normally she would have expected a person might be upset by the fact that their newly won freedom was about to be taken away. But then she was dealing with Cole Stanton and knew from experience there wasn't much he found unsettling.
Folding his arms across his chest, he appeared to be nonchalant about the issue. "What for?"
"Cole Stanton, you are under arrest for robbery. Please stand up, sir."
"Robbery! I haven't committed any such crime."
"I'm afraid that according to this," she drew a folded piece of paper out of her pocket, taking great satisfaction in snapping it open in front of his face, "you fit the description of a man who robbed a jewelry store in Albany last month."
Snatching the poster from her outstretched hand, he skimmed the page. "This could be anybody."
"No, Mr. Stanton, I'm afraid that this would be you."
Taking the poster back, she tucked it back in her pocket. Then lowering the gun, aiming in the general vicinity of his heart, she ordered, "Please, stand up, Mr. Stanton. You are under arrest for the robbery of the Fisk Jewelry store of State Street in Albany, New York."
it had been a week since Cole's arrest and it seemed most of the townsfolk had been in to visit. Some were openly curious about who he was, while others were actually laying odds as to how long he would remain in jail this time. John Wagner had stopped by twice to play chess with him through the bars. Cole had won both times.
Cole had found out that the pretty redhead he'd met coming off the train last week was Lydia Louise Monroe, one of Abigail's two cousins. She'd walked past the office a couple of times, but had yet to come in to formally introduce herself.
And then there was Wanda McCurdy. She'd been by to visit him three times since his unfortunate incarceration. The more he spoke to her the more he was beginning to think that Miss McCurdy was up to something. He'd met more than a few scam artists in his travels and while Wanda didn't exactly fit the bill, Cole suspected she knew how to run a successful game.
One thing was for certain, Cole was tired of being locked up. He was hoping he'd be able to convince the sheriff that he wasn't the one who'd robbed the jewelry store. However, Sheriff Abigail was hardly speaking to him, so that left him with little opportunity to state his case.
Rising from the cot he extended his arms above his head and stretched, groaning a bit as his joints popped in relief. He wondered why the sheriff wasn't in the office yet? You could set your watch by her arrival and departure. In the office by nine o'clock in the morning, out the door at three in the afternoon, probably for tea with her aunt and cousin, and then she was back for one last check before leaving for the day at seven in the evening.
He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 9:30 and still no sign of the woman. Frowning, he wondered why he even cared. It was her fault he was here in the first place. He shouldn't give two cents worth of his time worrying over her absence.
Just as these thoughts were crossing his mind, the door opened and in walked the woman of his recent meanderings.
"Morning, Sheriff."
"Good Morning, Mr. Stanton."
Right away he noticed that there was something different about her. It wasn't her dress that was for sure. She still wore the same drab attire she'd had on the first time they'd met. Leaning against the cool steel bars, he stuck his arms between them, resting his elbows on a cross bar.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Stanton?" Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the steely tone.
She was wearing her hair in a different fashion. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed it right away. "No. No problem. I was just admiring your hair." She'd braided it in one long single braid that fell down her back skimming her waistline. There was a pretty plum-colored piece of satin tied off in a neat bow at the bottom.
Her cheeks colored in a soft rose shade. He enjoyed the fact that his comment made her blush.
Turning, she met his gaze. "You shouldn't be looking at my hair."
"I don't see why not. There isn't a whole lot for me to look at in here that I haven't already seen before." He grinned beneath his thick beard. He so enjoyed bantering with her.
Her expression was contrite when she replied, "I apologize for your state of boredom. Perhaps the circuit judge will be here soon."
&n
bsp; "Do you have any idea when that might be?"
"I'm afraid not. I've no way of knowing the judge's schedule."
"You do have a telegraph office in Surprise. Why don't you just send him a message?"
Patiently, like he were a schoolboy, she explained, "By the time a message reached him he would more than likely be moving along to his next stop. And by the time it was relayed along, he'd probably be riding into our town anyway. So you see there's no point in going to all the trouble."
He would have liked nothing more than to while away his morning getting into a lengthy debate with her, but just then the door burst open.
"Abigail, I've come for a visit." On those words, Lydia Monroe sailed into the room like she was going to visit the Queen of England.
Her thick red hair was piled on top of her head in a bundle of curls. She wore a crisp yellow skirt and matching jacket. Cole stared from her to Abigail unable to believe that the two women shared the same blood.
She flashed him a brilliant smile, fastening her green eyes on him with such intensity that a lesser man may have blushed.
"I don't believe I've been formally introduced to your guest, Abigail."
"Goodness, you sound just like Aunt Margaret. Cole, I mean Mr. Stanton, is not a guest in this town, he is a prisoner!"
"And I should say he's a mighty handsome one!"
"Lydia!"
Sashaying over to him, she stuck her gloved hand through the bars. "I apologize for not introducing myself the other day at the station. I'm Abigail's cousin, Lydia Louise Monroe."
Taking her hand in his, he said, "Nice to meet you again."
"Same here, Mr. Stanton." Leaning in close to him, she whispered, "Isn't our Abigail just the prettiest sheriff you've ever seen?"
Releasing her hand he answered, "Prettiest sheriff I've met."
"If it would help you, I could vouch for your character. Then maybe Abigail would let you out for good behavior."
He remembered the first encounter they'd had. It was the day he was leaving town and she'd nearly fallen off the train. He'd helped her with her baggage.
"I appreciate your offer, Miss Monroe. But I seriously doubt the Sheriff will care. She's very by the book if you know what I mean."
"Indeed, I do." Lydia turned away from him and walked over to Abigail's desk. "Did you have a chance to speak to Aunt Margaret this morning?"
Abigail looked from Cole to Lydia and back again. She didn't like having them so friendly with one another. "No."
The truth was she'd been avoiding both her aunt and Lydia for the past two days. She'd been keeping a close eye on some of the newcomers, Mr. Stanton's friend Wanda McCurdy being one of them. In addition to this she had also been devising a way to get her prisoner out of jail for a few hours a day.
"Oh." Lydia seemed to be disappointed by her response.
Nibbling on her lower lip, Lydia ran her finger along the corner of the desk. Oh dear. Abigail knew all the signs and they were there. Lydia always nibbled her lip when she was trying not to tell a secret.
"Is there something I should know about?" Abigail began to worry. Perhaps Aunt Margaret's health had taken a turn.
Before Lydia could answer, John Wagner entered the office. "Morning, Sheriff, Miss Lydia, Mr. Stanton."
"Good morning, Mr. Wagner. I'm glad you're here, I have something to tell you." Abigail had been working for several days on her new idea and now was as good a time as any to announce her plan.
Taking his hat off, John set it on the desk and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. He looked more than a little curious.
"Out with it!"
"Won't you sit down?" Extending her hand, she offered him her seat, enjoying having control over the situation. It was the first time in a long time where she could remember Mr. Wagner waiting on her response.
Unable to resist, she stretched the moment a little longer. "Perhaps you would care for a morning biscuit. I'm sure that Lydia wouldn't mind running back to Aunt Margaret's house to get one for you." Turning her most charming smile on her cousin, she added, "would you, Lydia?"
Waving his hand in mid-air, Mr. Wagner said, "Now there's no need to go to such trouble. I'm only going to be here for a few minutes."
Lydia fussed with her hair and leaned against the desk, while Mr. Wagner stood by the desk shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other.
"I've a message for Aunt Margaret."
"I see."
"Actually, this concerns Mr. Stanton." Turning, she faced him and found that he was leaning against the bars studying her.
"I've been talking with Alexander Judson. I don't know if you're aware of this, Mr. Stanton, but Mr. Judson owns the lumber mill."
"I didn't know that." Quirking an eyebrow, he asked, "Is there a reason why I should care about this?"
"As a matter of fact there is." Taking a step towards him, she couldn't hide her smile. "Mr. Judson has agreed to let you participate in Surprise's new work release program."
Silence descended on the room. When several moments passed and still no one spoke, she cleared her throat.
"It's a new idea. One that will benefit the town while at the same time keeping the prisoner under a watchful eye."
She looked over her shoulder at Lydia and Mr. Wagner. Lydia stood there smiling in that innocent way she had, while Mr. Wagner was pretending to study his fingernails.
Looking back at Mr. Stanton she was a bit surprised to find him staring at her. The expression on his face was hidden beneath the thick beard. If he were happy about the decision he wasn't saying. For a brief minute she thought she saw something in his eyes-a glimmer of hope perhaps? Then in the next instant his gaze was hooded once more.
Clearing her throat, she began. "Mr. Stanton, do you like the idea of a work release program?"
He seemed intent on staring at her. Feeling more than a little unnerved by this, she prodded, "Mr. Stanton?"
"You trust me enough not to run off?"
She blinked hard, his question startling her. But her answer startled her even more. Quietly, she replied, "Yes, I do trust you." And amazingly, Abigail did. Maybe it was the fact that when he'd been showing her how to handle a gun he didn't turn the weapon on her and escape right then and there. Or was it because something deep down inside of her knew he could do no harm? Whatever the reason was, Abigail knew in her heart he could be trusted.
"If you feel it's the right thing for your prisoner to be doing, then yes, I'd like to give it a try."
She felt herself smiling. "Great!"
"Exactly what will Mr. Stanton be doing?" Mr. Wagner wanted to know.
"Alexander Judson has agreed to Mr. Stanton's working for him at the lumber yard. He'll be helping to get the orders ready to deliver."
"I see you have this matter under control, Sheriff." John slapped his hands together, put his hat back on, and waited while she readied Mr. Stanton for his release.
Getting the key ring from the top desk drawer, she walked back to the cell, unlocking the door. "Mr. Stanton, you will be escorted over to the Judson lumber yard at eight o'clock every morning and then be brought back here by six o'clock each night."
Looking pointedly at John, she said, "You can let Aunt Margaret know that I've settled all of the details with Mr. Judson."
"Yes."
"Good." Taking hold of Cole's arm she led him out the front door.
The sun was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the office. At mid-morning the town was alive with activity. It seemed that every few days more and more people were getting off the train and lingering in Surprise. Lydia had shown her the advertisement in the Albany paper and told her Aunt Margaret had placed it.
She didn't know what to think of this sudden population explosion, but she felt prepared to face anything.
They were just about at the entrance to the lumber yard when a woman, with the reddest hair that Abigail had ever seen, came hurrying across the street after them.
"Hello there, Col
e!"
Abigail would have paused to let him stop and acknowledge the woman, but Cole just kept trudging along to their destination.
"Mr. Stanton, I think it would be rather rude to ignore the lady."
"She's no lady," he mumbled just loud enough for Abigail to hear.
"That's not a very nice thing to say." Abigail was out and out curious about this woman who she knew to be Wanda McGurdy, formerly of Albany.
She managed to catch up to them. Narrowing her eyes, Abigail squinted at the woman. She was most certainly not a natural redhead. Furthermore, the dress she wore was more suited to evening attire, not the light of day. The neckline, scooped daringly low, was barely doing its job to conceal her bosom.
"Cole, I was on my way to visit you at the jail. Have they decided to let you go?"
"No."
Abigail jerked her head around to look at him after his gruff one-word answer. She wondered at the cause of his manner toward this woman? Since the two of them hadn't been introduced Abigail took it upon herself to do the honors.
"I'm Sheriff Abigail Monroe."
"Wanda McCurdy. Cole and I are old friends. We go way back." Wiggling her perfectly arched eyebrows, she added, "If you know what I mean?"
Stunned by this woman's boldness, Abigail simply stared at her.
"Cole hasn't mentioned me? I've been to visit him several times since his arrest. You and I kept missing each other I guess."
"Yes, well I do have a town to keep safe," Abigail replied, unable to keep from staring at the woman's cleavage.
It was easy to see why a man like Cole would be attracted to a woman like Miss McCurdy. She put her wares out there for the world to see without so much as batting an eye. Abigail wouldn't be caught dead in a dress like hers.
She stuck to the simple style because it suited her job. Still she couldn't help feeling much like she did the night she'd first arrested Cole Stanton. Inadequate. If only a dress could make her feel like holding a gun did-confident, powerful.
WOMEN OF SURPRISE 01: A Surprise For Abigail Page 5
