A Sheriff's Passion

by Michelle Beattie

  He grinned. “I can stay long enough.”

  “Dammit, Mitch! Don’t—”

  “Don’t what? Enjoy a good woman while I can?”

  “This is what I mean,” Shane grumbled. “You’re only interested in trifling with her.”

  “The way I see it, Silver is old enough to say what she wants and doesn’t want.”

  Though it pained him to do so, Shane kept his tongue. Mitch was right. Silver was a grown woman and, despite Shane’s wanting to protect her, she could and would make her own decisions. She’d more than proven over the years he’d known her that she was capable of taking care of herself.

  Mitch screwed off the cap of the canteen he’d carried with him from the boardinghouse.

  After a long drink, he closed the top, hooked it back over his saddle horn. “How did Silver come to own a saloon, anyway?”

  Watching his brother drink made Shane aware how thirsty he was and he gulped down some water from his own canteen before answering.

  “She built it, turned a run-down barn into Silver’s.”

  Mitch sat up taller. “When she said she owned it I didn’t realize she’d built it.”

  “Well, she had help to do the heavy work but she wasn’t shy about swinging a hammer or hauling things. And I’m sure her shoulders ached from all the polishing she did on that bar.”

  “Still it must have cost a fortune to convert a barn into a saloon.”

  Shane’s back went taut. “She’s not rich despite owning Silver’s. Don’t be thinking she’d be easy to swindle.”

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Easy, Sheriff, I was just commenting, is all. You don’t often see a woman with that kind of money. Is she widowed?”

  “Never married.”

  “Where’d she get the money? Some rich uncle leave it to her in his will?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mitch gave him a questioning look. “You didn’t ask? Heck, you’ve been interrogating me since I got here. I’m surprised you didn’t do the same to her.”

  “Of course I asked,” Shane admitted, remembering how she’d taken to all his questions.

  From the moment she’d seen his badge, she’d been leery and defensive around him and he’d wondered, more than once, if she was running from the law.

  “She told me it was none of my business and that as long as she wasn’t breaking any laws, she didn’t have to answer.” He didn’t add that she’d shown him the door after.

  “And you accepted that?”

  “Of course not,” Shane answered defensively. Even though he’d thought her beautiful from the moment he’d set eyes on her, he’d never forgotten his priority was to the folks of Marietta.

  “I didn’t trust her. You’re right; it’s unusual for a woman to have that much money. And coming alone as she did, to a small town in Montana...” He shook his head. “Something didn’t feel right. So I kept stopping by, checking on the progress she was making. There was never anybody there but her and the workers she’d hired. Nothing going on but a whole load of backbreaking work. Still I kept coming until finally one day she tossed me a hammer. Said if I was going to be there so often, I may as well be useful.”

  His lips pulled at the memory. She’d been covered in grime, her forehead and upper lip beaded with perspiration but her eyes had challenged him and, even knowing he’d been goaded, he’d accepted the hammer and went to work.

  Mitch laughed until his eyes watered. “She got free labor out of you.”

  Shane shrugged. “A little, when I could spare the time. And while I never did get most of the answers I was looking for, I spent enough time with her to know I don’t have to worry where she is concerned. I may not know why she chose Marietta or how she got the means to build her saloon but I know Silver is trustworthy. I stopped worrying about her bringing trouble to town a long time ago.”

  “But why open a saloon?” Mitch reiterated. “Why not a dress shop or a millinery? She told me folks around these parts don’t cotton to her because of that saloon. Seems to me it would have been easier on her if she’d chosen a different means of supporting herself.”

  That was one question Shane did know the answer to. “She said her pa used to run one, before he died, and she’d often spend her mornings in it, listening to him tell stories while he cleaned up from the night before. As she got older he taught her how to cipher, how to count money, give change. She said they’d play saloon before he opened the doors where he’d be a patron and she’d pretend to pour him drinks. Then when she was old enough, she worked with him serving drinks.”

  Shane remembered how her golden-brown eyes had warmed like brandy as the memories danced through her mind.

  “So it’s some kind of a tribute to him then?”

  “Now who’s asking all the questions?” Shane taunted.

  “Just trying to make some sense of it. Seems there are easier things she could have done than strike out on her own, in another town.”

  “She lost both her parents, within a few years of each other. I don’t think there was anything left for her there.” He remembered that as fast as Silver’s eyes had warmed with the happy tales of her pa and the saloon, they’d saddened at the loss of her parents, the loss of everything she’d loved.

  Mitch nodded. “Well, now it makes sense. She wanted to honor her pa but the town held too many memories so she started anew elsewhere.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Shane hadn’t really been paying attention to where they were going. He’d been distracted by their conversation and, despite his misgivings about Mitch’s sudden appearance in Marietta, he’d been enjoying this time with his brother. But now, as they edged closer toward the Yellowstone River the hair on the back of Shane’s neck rose. His gut knotted. He recognized the distinctive stand of cottonwoods, how the one end and the bit in the middle stood slightly taller and rounder and how, at a distance, it gave the illusion of a large caterpillar creeping across the valley.

  “What the hell are we doing here?” Shane growled.

  Mitch looked over. “Going home. As you’ve reminded me a few times already, it’s been over ten years. I’m sure you come here all the time but I—”

  “I don’t.” At Mitch’s questioning look Shane looked away, concentrated on the glistening river ahead. “There’s nothing worth coming back to,” Shane muttered. Suddenly sweating, he tipped his hat back to wipe the moisture off his brow. Yet, despite being damn tempted to turn Justice around and head back to town, he kept his horse plodding along next to Mitch’s.

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The closer they got to where their house had once stood, the harder Shane’s heart pounded, the drier his mouth became, the harder it became to swallow. Seemingly unaffected by his return home, Mitch reined in and slid from the saddle.

  He turned a slow circle. “Not much left, is there?”

  There was never much to begin with, Shane thought bitterly.

  Dismounting, Shane tethered his horse to the same scrappy cottonwood Mitch had tied his animal to. In his mind’s eye, he saw the rope that used to stretch between that tree and the post his pa had dug into the ground some twenty feet away. He could see the rope weighed down with clothes, hear the shirts flapping in the wind. The post was long gone but the tree was holding on.

  Despite not having wanted to come, he was there now and he forced himself to look around. The only sign where their small house had been was the rock foundation that remained. Shane stepped over the low wall. Ten paces long by eleven wide. He didn’t remember it being so small, but then he should have as there certainly hadn’t been any room to hide when their pa had been in the bottle and had come home surly and mean and looking for a fight.

  “I wonder why the Brown’s didn’t get rid of this,” Mitch said, giving the rocks a kick. “It seems they took everything else.”

  Without a lot of money, Shane’s pa had rented the little bit of land that contained their house, garde
n, barn, and pasture. It was the original homestead of the Browns but they’d built a bigger house higher up into the hills. They’d rented out their old place until the McCall boys were old enough to move away. Of course by then Shane’s pa was long gone and it had been mostly Logan, though Shane and Mitch had helped where they could, who’d worked to keep up the rent. Not long after Shane had moved into Marietta he’d heard that Eli Brown had taken down the log cabin and barn and used the wood up at his new place.

  “No point in hauling rocks up into the hills; there’s no shortage of them around. Besides he’s using the land for pasture. It doesn’t hurt anything to leave the foundation here, it’s no risk to the animals.”

  Mitch stood in one corner where the bedroom the three brothers once shared had been. He looked out toward the sparkling Yellowstone River that cut through the property.

  “Do you still go fishing?”

  Shane stepped to Mitch’s side. Most of the good times growing up had been with Mitch and Logan in the river, swimming, fishing, or building rafts that usually sank.

  “Sometimes.” Not as often as he could, mostly because he couldn’t do it without feeling the ache of missing his brothers.

  Mitch sighed. “I’ve tried fishing in other rivers, none compare to the whitefish and trout found here.”

  Shane didn’t comment. He was tempted to ask why, if Mitch had missed the fishing so much, he hadn’t been back, but it felt wrong to argue where they stood. There’d been enough fighting and arguing on that land, he sure as hell wasn’t going to add to it now.

  “I wonder if there’s anything left of our fort,” Mitch said.

  Though there weren’t any walls and he could’ve stepped out anywhere, Mitch walked out exactly where the front door had stood. Shane followed. They strode by their horses, by another rock foundation that had been the barn, and around weathered cow patties that had crusted over and faded. Judging by the length of the grass that brushed Shane’s shin, Eli hadn’t used this piece for pasture in a while.

  “Still looks like a big caterpillar.” Mitch chuckled as they approached the stand of cottonwoods.

  Leaves fluttered and rustled in the wind. As they got closer, Shane heard the drumming of a woodpecker hard at work. A deer and her two spotted fawns leapt from the cover of the trees, scared off by their approach. The animals bounded down the valley toward another copse of trees. When he and Mitch stepped into the shade of the cottonwoods, it was as though Shane had stepped back in time.

  As it had back then, dappled sunlight gave the little forest an enchanted feel and the illusion one was in another time and place. The damp smell of earth and forest filled his lungs. Twigs snapped underfoot as he moved forward. And there, just ahead, the lean-to he and his brothers had made. Well, what was left of it. It had mostly collapsed onto itself and moss was growing on the weathered logs they’d cut themselves but the pieces were there. As were the memories.

  He wondered...

  Shane began tossing wood aside. He scared a mouse and several beetles but grinned when he lifted the last log aside and found what he’d been looking for lying on the moist forest floor. He picked it up. Funny it had seemed bigger as a boy.

  “My God,” Mitch said, looking at what his brother held. He shook his head, a far away look in his eye. “After all this time.”

  Shane swooped the wooden sword down, smiled as he remembered the hours they’d spent playing pirate both in the trees and along the river. Logan, being the oldest, hadn’t had much time or the inclination to play pirate, but a few times they’d cajoled him into it.

  “Logan always put you in the brig,” Shane remembered. Then, unable to resist, he added, “Maybe he knew your true nature even back then.”

  Mitch shoved Shane aside, poked around the area Shane had uncovered by moving the logs. Bending down, he came up with his own sword. His was longer, as was his right, he’d told Shane back then. As the youngest, Shane was given the shortest sword. Mitch’s was a bit longer and Logan had the longest. Mitch eyed his sword, then Shane’s. His lips twitched. Shane knew what his brother was going to say even before he opened his mouth.

  With humor dancing in his light grey eyes Mitch said, “Yours always was the smallest.”

  “It’s not the weapon, it’s how you wield it,” he countered, his smile smug.

  Mitch raised his sword, tapped it to Shane’s. “Doesn’t hurt to have both.” He laughed. Then, kneeling, he jabbed his wooden sword in the dirt. “We had good times here,” he said.

  Shane staked his sword into the ground next to Mitch’s. Together they looked down at the wooden toys protruding from the dirt. “Yeah,” he agreed, feeling some of the weight of his past lift. “We did.”

  “’Course some things don’t change,” Mitch said.

  At the somber tone, Shane turned his head. Mitch’s lips were pulled flat, his jaw hard. What the hell had just happened? One minute Mitch was happy and teasing and the next—

  “Gotcha!” Mitch shouted. His lips twisted into an evil grin.

  Then, before Shane could react, Mitch hooked his boot behind Shane’s and swept his foot out from underneath him. Shane went down hard.

  Whooping, Mitch spun and sped away, leaping over bushes and dodging branches.

  “Goddammit,” Shane muttered. His ass would be sore for days.

  Though he shouted back, threatening what he’d do to Mitch once he caught up, he was chuckling when he scrambled to his feet and gave chase.

  Owning a saloon that kept late hours and was open six days a week didn’t leave Silver a lot of time to spend outside. She tried to sneak in a walk whenever she could, usually after she’d cleaned the saloon from the previous night and before she had to open the doors again. As yesterday had been Sunday and the saloon had been closed, she had very little to do to get ready for the day’s business; so, after a quick breakfast, she pinned a hat through her upswept hair, locked the door, and strolled into the sunshine.

  A modest breeze blew down Main Street, enough to swirl a little dust but not enough to tug her hat from its pins. Across the way, Grey’s was as quiet as Silver’s and the balcony perched above its door was empty. That would change by midafternoon and especially into the evening.

  There were only a handful of folks about town. Two wagons were hitched alongside the mercantile. There was one in front of the cobbler’s and, as she neared Shane’s jail and looked down the side street, she saw four horses tethered in front of the restaurant.

  Her heart hitched a little as she passed Shane’s office. She’d hoped he’d be sitting outside as he often did but the chair he kept next to his door was empty and, when she slowed her pace and glanced inside, it was Owen sitting at the desk. The tug of disappointment wasn’t unfamiliar.

  Letty stepped out of the mercantile just as Silver was passing by. Her smile was as immediate as the joy that came into her eyes.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” Letty said and drew Silver into a motherly embrace.

  Silver hugged back, feeling as she always did when Letty held her, warm and grateful for the woman’s affection and a little heartsick it wasn’t her ma’s arms around her. Not that her ma had ever smelled of peppermint.

  “You’ve been into the candy sticks again, haven’t you?” Silver teased.

  Letty stood back. “Me? Hardly ever,” she added with a wink. Then, “Are you off for a walk?”

  “I am. Would you care to join me?”

  “I’d love to, but I only stepped out for a minute.” She grabbed the broom, started to sweep the boardwalk. “John is inside now but you know how he prefers to do almost anything but tally up purchases. I’m only taking a few minutes and then I have to get back.” She stopped long enough to wiggle her brows at Silver and ask, “You wouldn’t be meeting a tall, dark, and handsome man on this walk would you?”

  Silver nearly told her she doubted she’d run into Shane when she realized Letty likely meant Mitch.

  “I haven’t seen Mitch yet today.”

&nb
sp; “He may still be with Shane. Shane was heading to the boardinghouse to talk to his brother when I arrived this morning.”

  Oh dear. Having felt the tension between those two yesterday, Silver didn’t hold much hope for a peaceful reunion, especially if Shane was going to see his brother so early. While she wasn’t usually awake at that time of day, she nevertheless knew what time businesses opened and what time Letty usually arrived. No, she didn’t imagine any talk Shane felt compelled to start at that hour of the day would be a happy one.

  Silver again looked down the short street but nothing was stirring in front of the boardinghouse. She supposed it was something that they weren’t brawling in the street. Although, if Shane had been there since this morning, it could be that the brawl had stayed inside. It wasn’t any of her concern but the thought of them beating on each other, drawing blood...

  “You don’t need to worry, Silver,” Letty said as though she read her mind. “They left together shortly after Shane left for the boardinghouse.” She shrugged. “I was curious. Even from where I was standing yesterday I could feel the strain between them but they seemed friendly enough walking toward the stable.” She jutted her chin down the street. “They rode out that way,” she said as she gave the boardwalk a quick sweep.

  As Wade’s Triple P ranch was also in that direction, Silver blew out a relieved breath. Wade and Scott would break up any fisticuffs.

  Letty set her broom aside, squeezed Silver’s hand. “It was lovely to see you, dear, but I’m sure John is getting anxious. I’ll see you later.”

  As Letty went in, one of her customers stepped out. Silver recognized May Bell Bramble. A fine lady, May Bell was always dressed in the latest fashion, even if it looked a little fussy for Marietta, Montana. But as her husband managed the only bank in town her clothes were always a reflection of that prominence. Today the woman’s peacock blue hat was only slightly darker than her perfectly matched suit.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bramble.”

  Once Silver had started keeping some money in the bank her husband managed, Mrs. Bramble had become much nicer toward her.