A Sheriff's Passion

by Michelle Beattie

  A Sheriff’s Passion

  A Frontier Montana Romance

  Michelle Beattie

  A Sheriff’s Passion

  Copyright © 2017 Michelle Beattie

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-946772-19-0

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Frontier Montana series

  Excerpt from A Rancher’s Surrender

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  The end of this book didn’t come without a lot of stress and angst and so special thanks to Taryn Leigh Taylor, Michele Viveiros and Fabiola Forcier for taking my panicked calls. I dread the day you start checking your call display ;-)

  A heartfelt thanks and much appreciation to Dr. Gail Cunningham-Flemming BSc. DVM MvetSc, for all the help with the horse’s colic and for locating some veterinary journals dating back to the 1800’s! That was priceless, Gail, and I appreciated your expertise so much.

  Dedication

  In a weird twist of fate the day this book releases also marks the 31st anniversary of my brother Normand’s death. He was a special guy and I miss him terribly. But I was lucky. I’m the youngest of 6 kids and while Normand’s death left a hole in our family, I have four other siblings I love to pieces. And so this book is dedicated to them.

  Gerald, I remember the motorbike rides, your awful singing as you drove us around in your Grand LeMans. I remember you taking me to the movies and bringing me back a stuffed animal you won at Bingo. I love your weird sense of humor and that it’s as cheesy as mine. Thank you for being a great role model to me and my kids. I’m so blessed to have you in my life.

  Larry, because of your generosity I was able to get my first car. That meant so much to me, and I thank you for that. You also lent me your truck when I needed it, brought me a present when you realized I was alone on my sixteenth birthday and many other little things through the years that touched me deeply. You’re one of the strongest people I know and I admire you a lot.

  Nicole, we didn’t always get along growing up but we’ve made up for it since! I love our talks, our giggle fests. You’re always there when I need you. So many memories of playing cards, playing in that treehouse and you making me furniture and clothes for my Barbies. I wish you lived closer but it makes the times we are together so much more special. You’re not only my sister, you’re my friend.

  Pete, I feel like we really became friends once we became adults and I’ve treasured that friendship. You coming to visit and play cards so I wasn’t always alone, you teaching me to play golf. Considering your lack of patience you sure were patient with me! So many memories of the different courses we played to go along with all those ones as kids in the treehouse and playing kick the can. I know I tease you a lot but it’s out of love. You’re a good man and I’m proud to call you my brother.

  Chapter One

  Montana Territory

  May 1884

  Silver Adams slid the butterfly pin through the straw hat perched fetchingly over her upswept blond hair. Lowering her hands to her sides, she examined herself in the full-length mirror that adorned a corner of her room. She turned from side to side, nodded as the skirt billowed over her pointy-toed boots. Her dress wasn’t new or fancy, there wasn’t much cause for new or fancy in Montana Territory, but the sunny yellow color was perfect for a spring picnic in the valley and it made her feel pretty.

  While she knew she was about to set herself up for yet another disappointment, she nonetheless intended to do it looking her best.

  She ran her hand over the row of pearl buttons marching down the bodice of her dress, pressed her lips tightly together when she saw the tremble in her fingers. For goodness sake, this wasn’t her first picnic in Marietta. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d stand before the town facing their judgment, hearing their whispers and feeling their censure.

  After all, she wasn’t simply Silver Adams in their eyes, one of the many business owners in town. She was proprietor of Silver’s Saloon and despite the fact she’d been in town for over four years, had never brought a man to her rooms in that time and didn’t run a brothel, most refused to see past the fact she ran a saloon.

  They didn’t care to learn that it was a skill she’d been taught by her father, that she ran Silver’s as a tribute to him and what he’d meant to her. They didn’t care to discover the pains and hardships she’d suffered through, losing first her father, then her mother. How she’d been alone and scared. How she’d gone without food so her ailing mother could eat.

  Not that there weren’t things in her past she was ashamed of, wished she could have done differently, because there were. And because there were she gave back when she could, how she could. As often as she could. She could have built a whorehouse, a place of ill repute, but she’d chosen not to. She’d chosen to build something respectable. She didn’t water down her whiskey, didn’t overcharge her patrons. Because at the root of it, Silver Adams was a good person.

  Which was why she was standing in front of a mirror, nerves twitching.

  She’d do about anything for Reverend Donnelly.

  Reverend Donnelly, the one person she could understand looking down upon her never had. Though he’d never stepped foot inside Silver’s once she’d opened its doors, he’d nonetheless been one of the first to befriend her when she’d first arrived and, despite raising a brow when she said she was going to turn an old outpost barn into a saloon, he’d stopped by nearly every day to watch the progress. He never told her she shouldn’t, never tried to steer her from her goal. He simply watched, listened, and offered friendship.

  It was a gift she treasured, though she’d been uncomfortable with it at the beginning. His gentle eyes had always looked at her as though he saw to her soul and it had shamed her that despite the numerous times he’d gently reminded her that anything she said to him in confidence would stay that way, she never had. She’d never confessed her sins to him or anyone else. Despite the penance she was willing to pay, she carried her secrets deep in her heart.

  Still, over the years their friendship had grown and blossomed and she compared his presence in her life to the mountain ranges surrounding Marietta; lasting, steady. Humbling.

  Unlike another man in her life.

  Shane McCall was infuriating and stubborn one moment, loyal and trustworthy the next. He could se
t her heart aflutter with nothing more than walking through the saloon’s swinging doors then make her angry enough to chew nails with his refusal to see what was before his very eyes. It didn’t help a lick that he was so damn handsome it should have been against the law. Just as it didn’t seem to matter that he was the law. Despite her best arguments and sound reasons for staying away from the sheriff, her heart refused to listen.

  Although hers wasn’t the only one set on Shane.

  Thinking of Melissa Lake and how she was sure to be there today turned Silver’s trembling hands into tight fists. The girl—though she could only be a few years younger than Silver’s twenty-seven years—was shameless in her pursuit of Shane. As long as Silver had been in Marietta, she’d had to endure the girl’s unabashed intent to turn Shane’s head and lure him into marriage. Of course as both a handsome man and the sheriff, there was no denying he made an attractive prospect for a husband and Melissa wasn’t the only one vying for his attention.

  Many times when Silver had reason to see Shane in his office she’d noticed the assortment of cakes, pies, and cookies filling his desk, chairs, and the top of the boxes he used to store his files and papers. Out running errands, she couldn’t help but notice the steady stream of young ladies coming and going from the sheriff’s office. But, of all of them, Shane only seemed taken with Melissa.

  And today, she’d be slapped with that truth yet again.

  Silver raised her chin, stared herself down in the mirror.

  “Don’t you dare let him see it bothers you.” She scolded herself.

  While Silver certainly hadn’t thrown herself at Shane, he knew how she felt about him. Or if he hadn’t before he’d surely figured it out when he’d finally gotten around to kissing her a few weeks back and she’d all but melted into his arms. That kiss had been everything she’d dreamed of and there’d been no mistaking the hunger and passion from either of them.

  But then the yellow-bellied coward had stepped away, as though he just wanted to pretend the searing kiss hadn’t happened. She’d played along. She’d continue to play along because no way in hell was she ever going to let that man know he’d torn her heart to shreds.

  Taking a deep breath, Silver turned from the mirror and headed down the stairs. She stopped at the base to admire her saloon. She’d taken a smelly old barn, cleaned it and done as much of the repairs and restoring as she could. Then she’d hired men to finish what she couldn’t. She’d worked until she had blisters on her hands, cuts on her palms, and every bone in her body ached, until Silver’s was everything she’d envisioned it could be, everything she’d envisioned she could be.

  It was a far cry from where and what she’d come from and, despite everything that lay behind her, she was damn proud of both her saloon and the life she’d built. It gave her heart a squeeze hoping her father would proud as well.

  It would never be enough for some, however. Despite her work, her tenacity, and her grit, her owning a saloon would never be good enough for Shane. He’d never said so outright but it was the only explanation she could come up with as they were both unattached and there was no doubt of the attraction between them.

  “Stubborn ass,” she muttered.

  Knowing he wasn’t likely to change, Silver shook out her hands, rolled her shoulders. The sun was beaming into her saloon, she was going to see her friends, and she felt pretty all dressed up. She wouldn’t let Shane McCall ruin her day. Marching proudly, Silver crossed the saloon into the kitchen at the back.

  The smell of fried chicken lingered in the room and seeped through the wicker of her basket. She’d taken as much time preparing a delicious basket for the auction as she had dressing and curling her hair. Even though she already knew the only man who’d bid on her basket was Reverend Donnelly, she nonetheless wanted to give her friend her best.

  And if she managed to make Shane jealous in the process?

  Silver’s laugh rang in the empty kitchen. “It’s the least he deserves.”

  Hooking her basket in the crook of her elbow, Silver slipped out the back of her saloon and headed toward the church.

  Every spring the folks in Marietta gathered on a Sunday afternoon for the annual church picnic. Pies, cookies, and cakes were consumed by the wagonful. Jugs of sweet tea quenched throats run dry from all the gossiping and talking. After a long Montana winter, there was much visiting to catch up on as it was the first time everyone was together.

  A high point of the picnic, and a reason it also drew men from neighboring towns, was the picnic basket auction. Unmarried women prepared delicious baskets that would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. While the money raised helped pay the Reverend’s wages for the year, it was also done in hopes of creating a match between the bidding bachelor and the single woman who’d prepared the basket. So far as Silver knew that hope hadn’t come to fruition very often in the history of the picnic. But she, like the rest, never stopped hoping.

  Marietta mostly consisted of a long main street, which housed most of the town’s businesses ranging from the mercantile, to the cobbler, to the stable, and doctor’s office. Silver’s and Grey’s saloons flanked the west end of that street. The church and school were located behind Grey’s, on a less populated street, though far enough away that the saloon’s more unsavory patrons didn’t stumble onto the church and school yards.

  Unlike Silver’s, Grey’s remained opened on Sundays. Serving mostly miners, prospectors, and any man who was looking for a whore to pass the time with, Grey’s was Silver’s opposite. It worked well for both her and Ephraim Grey, really, as their patrons mostly stuck to one or the other and there wasn’t much in the way of competition between the saloons. Still, she was pleased to see none of his whores up displaying their wares on the balcony that perched over the front door. While it faced her saloon and not the church, it would have felt wrong heading to a church event with harlots parading about half dressed.

  But, then again, she could argue she shouldn’t be going to a church event either.

  Even before Silver rounded the corner behind Grey’s, she heard the air ringing with voices and laughter as friends came together after months apart. The excitement was contagious and helped dismiss her troublesome thought. Silver Adams had every right to attend a church event. Besides, she couldn’t wait to see her friends. Smiling, she increased her pace.

  Other than the houses scattered at the other end and the boardinghouse, which sat on the corner of that street and the shorter one that connected it to Main Street, the church and school were the only two buildings on the dusty street. They were located far enough apart that each had plenty of open space to accommodate a large gathering or event.

  Today, the grassy area around the church was spilling with families. Tables were laden with food; horses and wagons were hitched to posts and, by the look of the sandbags spread out beyond the crowd, the annual town baseball game would again be played.

  Her gaze flitted over the women organizing the food tables to the others embracing and cooing over how much the children had grown. Yet more sat on the ground with a cup of tea in hand while most of the men chose to stand and jaw. Since everyone usually came for the service prior she was surprised to see a wagon and two riders coming in, dust settling in their wake. Recognizing them, Silver squealed. She grasped her skirt and hurried over.

  The wagon had barely come to a stop when Silver all but threw down her basket and held her arms out.

  “Oh, Jillian, let me take her!”

  In the two years since Jillian had arrived in Marietta a lot had happened to her. She’d nearly been killed by a man who resented the fact she was a female vet. She’d fallen in love and married Silver’s good friend Wade Parker and had adopted Wade’s daughter Annabelle as her own. Then, just a few short weeks ago, she’d given birth to the sweet, little angel Silver pulled close to her breast.

  Fierce longing swept through Silver.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d held the baby. When Wade had ridden in from t
he Triple P ranch with news he was once again a father, Silver had managed to wait a few days but by the morning of the fourth day she hadn’t been able to wait a moment longer. Like she had then, Silver looked down at the sleeping bundle and everything inside her yearned. She’d been close to both her mother and father and gazing at the sleeping little girl, Silver ached for a son or daughter of her own.

  She pressed her lips to the tiny forehead, inhaled the smell of innocence, and fought back the prick of tears. Owning a saloon was a surefire way to ensure no man would ever marry her but she wouldn’t lower herself to whore, not for any purpose including having a child. She hadn’t before and she wouldn’t now. Yet as she stroked the baby’s soft, plump cheek, she silently cursed Shane. If he wasn’t so infuriatingly stubborn and proud they could be together. Start a family together.

  Instead, she’d continue to be an honorary aunt. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek to the newborn’s head and told herself it was enough.

  “Papa says she looks like I did when I was just born.”

  Silver turned her attention to Wade’s oldest. Annabelle was ten, soon to be twenty. She was a spitfire and one only had to look into her blue eyes to know she’d cause Wade and Jillian some grey hair in another few years. Where Annabelle had inherited her deceased mother Amy’s black hair, little Katherine, though her bonnet hid it, had taken her red hair from her mother and her Aunt Katie.

  Silver looked to Wade. He winked.

  Smiling, Silver answered, “Well, there’s certainly no mistaking you’re sisters. And you’re both angels as far as I’m concerned.”

  Annabelle beamed. Silver’s heart lifted. They weren’t her nieces by blood but she cherished them as she cherished Wade and Jillian for allowing her to be such a special part of their daughter’s lives.

  “You wouldn’t have called Katherine an angel if you’d heard her screaming earlier,” Jillian said. “It’s why we’re late and missed the service; she wouldn’t stop crying until I fed her.”