A Sheriff's Passion

by Michelle Beattie

  Shane tossed his shovel aside, wiped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. The fresh mound of dirt covered the simple coffin. He still didn’t think the bastard deserved to be buried in Marietta’s cemetery but the reverend had insisted. Reverend Donnelly had seen Shane and his deputy, Owen, sliding the empty box in the back of the wagon and he’d asked after who had died. Despite what Shane told him, he’d wanted the body brought to town, buried proper, claiming it wasn’t for them to judge the man.

  Maybe the reverend couldn’t judge, but Shane sure as hell could and far as he was concerned the coffin was more than the man deserved. A part of Shane had been tempted to leave the bastard there for the vultures. After what he’d done to Charlotte, Shane had figured it was justice. But he’d never go against the reverend’s wishes and so he and Owen had hauled the body back to town. Now he and his deputy stood hats in hands while Reverend Donnelly read a few verses from the bible. Hot, sweaty, and dirty, Shane silently urged the man to read faster.

  “Amen,” he said at last.

  “Amen,” Owen answered.

  Shane grabbed the shovels.

  “I can take them,” Owen said, holding out his hand. “I can bring the wagon and horses back to the stable, too.”

  Normally Shane would have done it, as Owen had a family to get back to but he was expected at Melissa’s for supper and, as it was, he’d be late by the time he washed and changed.

  “I appreciate that, thank you.”

  He declined a ride, preferring to walk the short distance from the cemetery to his office. As a few passersby had seen him and Owen loading the coffin and had stopped to ask questions, he imagined word would be spreading fast. Because he didn’t want to be detained by more people asking questions, Shane opted to go around by Grey’s rather than down by the boardinghouse.

  Though he really couldn’t spare the time, he pushed through Grey’s swinging doors.

  Ephraim scowled. “Again?”

  “Yeah.”

  And without another word Shane climbed the stairs. He tapped on Charlotte’s door.

  “It’s Shane,” he said.

  Behind the door he heard the mattress squeak, then her feet shuffle. The door opened and her eyes widened as she took him in from his hat to his dirty pants and boots.

  “What happened to you?” she asked. Despite not working, she wore a thin nightgown that did little to contain her breasts.

  Because of that, and because he wanted to gauge her reaction to what he was about to say, Shane kept his gaze locked on hers. “That man I saw you come upstairs with the other night? The one you wouldn’t confirm was the man who beat you? I found him dead this afternoon over in the hills. He was shot.”

  Underneath the rainbow of colored bruises she paled. “It wasn’t me. I swear to you, I haven’t left my room other than to go to the privy.”

  “I’m not accusing you. Anyone with a brain in their head can see you’re not fit enough to ride. I just wanted to let you know, so you wouldn’t be afraid of him coming back.”

  Charlotte exhaled a long, deep breath. “I appreciate that.”

  “Then the one I saw you with was the man who beat you?”

  She nodded. “I wanted to tell you before but—”

  “I know.” Shane’s jaw firmed as he thought of his ma. “You’re hardly the first woman too afraid of a man to let the law help.”

  Charlotte gave him a weak smile. “Do you know who shot him?”

  “No idea. Did he say anything to you that night about riding with anyone? Or where he was from? Maybe where he was going from here?”

  She shook her head.

  Well, he hadn’t really expected differently but it was worth a try. “If you remember anything, let me know.”

  He was at the end of the hall when she called him back.

  “In the middle of—well, while we were...” She cleared her throat. “He said ‘they don’t know what they’re missing’.”

  Hell. So he hadn’t been alone. His instincts had been right and the dead man had been part of that group of four old Jeb had spotted. It didn’t surprise Shane that the man wasn’t riding alone. Accidents with guns happened sometimes and a man was known to shoot himself by mistake. But a shot in the back? That was no accident.

  It was murder.

  “You two take your time now,” George Lake called from the doorway.

  Shane shook his head, fought not to roll his eyes as he held Melissa’s elbow and escorted her down the porch steps. The man was as subtle as one of Grey’s whores whistling down from the balcony.

  As though it hadn’t been enough that they’d set the table with Shane sitting next to Melissa, despite the fact there was nobody sitting on the opposite side of the table. Though it wasn’t the first time he’d eaten a meal in their home, George had nonetheless extolled Melissa’s cooking skills, claiming nobody made a better pot roast than she did. Then, as they’d toasted Melissa’s birthday with a glass of wine, he’d boldly added how a smart man would claim her as a wife before someone else did.

  At the bottom of the steps, Shane filled his lungs with the cooling evening air. The freshness was a relief after the thick, expectant atmosphere in the house.

  Melissa stepped out of his touch. Worry pulled at her mouth. “I’m sorry, Shane. My father put you in a horrible position. I’m surprised you didn’t run for hills.”

  Not because he hadn’t been tempted. But he’d known by the apologetic glances she’d sent him throughout the meal that she was embarrassed by her father’s blatant matchmaking. While there was no mistaking her interest either, she wasn’t near as bold as her father. Thank God or if she were, she’d have proposed to him by now. Of course if she had, he’d have said no long ago and he wouldn’t be in this situation now. On her birthday of all days.

  “You’re his only daughter, he wants to see you happy and settled.” But despite the man’s machinations, it wasn’t going to be with Shane.

  “With someone who’ll keep me here.” She sighed and began walking.

  It was no secret the Lake’s had a son who, much like Mitch, hadn’t been content with small-town living and sought his fortune elsewhere. And like Mitch, Joshua Lake hadn’t been heard from in years, though he’d only been gone three.

  Shane followed Melissa past the scattering of houses, waved at the folks who sat on their porches as the last of the daylight faded behind the mountains.

  They painted a cozy portrait, husbands and wives sitting next to each other, families spending time together. It wasn’t a picture he’d grown up with but it was one he’d always longed for. He’d always thought of it in terms of his past, what would it have been like to sit like that with his ma and pa and brothers? To have his pa teach him how to whittle or play the fiddle? To listen to his ma hum as she snapped beans or mended socks?

  It was too late for him and his brothers but he swore he’d give such a future to his children. And knowing the woman beside him wasn’t part of that future, Shane bucked up his courage. It was time to tell her. But darkness was falling and with the possibility of outlaws, and at least one murderer nearby, Shane didn’t want to venture too far from town. He waited until he figured they were out of earshot of the last house before touching her elbow.

  “Melissa, we need to talk.”

  She stopped, went still. It took her a few moments to look at him. When she finally did the waning light caught the dread in her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say, Shane. I think I’ve always known.”

  He could tell by the expression on her face that she did indeed know. Ah, hell. He felt as though he’d just kicked a puppy.

  “Melissa, I should have told you sooner. It wasn’t fair to you. And I especially never wanted to tell you on your birthday but—”

  “But Mitch forced your hand,” she surmised.

  Stunned, Shane could only gape. “How is it you’ve figured it so quickly when I only did myself this afternoon?”

  She clasped her hands at her waist. “I’ve alwa
ys noticed the way Silver looks at you and the way you look at her when you think nobody’s looking. But when Mitch bid on her basket and then you did too...” Her hands fell at her sides. “You’d never bid on her basket before. And then when you were so distracted during our picnic. I knew it wasn’t all about your brother’s return to town.”

  She hitched a shoulder as though it was of little significance but Shane knew better and he felt awful. He’d hurt her and there weren’t enough apologies in the world to make it up to her.

  “I’m sorry. I truly am. I wanted to feel more toward you but—” His shoulders drooped. Lord, he was making this worse.

  “But you couldn’t.” She wiped the tear that snaked down her cheek. Now he’d gone and made her cry. He deserved to be horsewhipped. “I tried, I really did. It’s why I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s why I accepted the invitations to supper, all the baked goods, and why I bid on your basket. I’d hoped with time perhaps those feelings would come and for the life of me I don’t understand why they didn’t. Melissa, you’re a beautiful woman.” And she was, with hair black as his, dark, smoky eyes and a willowy frame. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  Her lips trembled. “Any man but you.”

  “Please don’t cry,” he begged.

  She was trying not to; he could see her struggling to contain the tears. Guilt-ridden, Shane stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her to give her comfort. She held on tight, pressed her face into his neck. Hating that he’d hurt her, Shane gently rubbed his hands up and down her back. He was prepared to hold her as long as she needed but instead of breaking down in sobs as he expected her to, she gave a shuddering sigh and eased back.

  Sadness and disappointment cloaked her as much as the incoming darkness did. Her eyes still shone but she no longer seemed on the verge of tears. He suspected she didn’t want to cry in front of him. And thinking of her weeping alone made him feel like even more of a wretch.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Of course.” Though it seemed to take some effort she managed to lift her mouth into a semblance of a smile. “You don’t need to worry about me, Shane.”

  “I worry about all my friends,” he answered. “And I know how much your parents had their heart set on us being together.”

  She looked toward their house. “They’ve suffered with Joshua being gone, with not knowing where he is.” She turned pleading eyes on him. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind? I’d make a good wife and—”

  He took her hands, squeezed. “I’ve no doubt of that, Melissa. I’ve never doubted it.” Then, wondering at the desperation that had filled her voice he asked, “But is it your idea to be my wife or your parents?”

  She stiffened. “Why would you even ask such a question?”

  “Your father has made no secret of his wish for us to marry. He stops by my office at least once a week for no apparent reason yet we always manage to talk about you. And the way your mother looks at me?” He could see that haunted look clear in his mind. “It’s as though her every prayer would be answered if I proposed to you.”

  “She’d be happy, is all. They both would.”

  Shane tipped his head. “But would you?”

  Just as she was about to answer a coyote yipped nearby. She jumped, hugged her arms close. “I should get back,” she said and before he had a chance to say anything she strode back the way they’d come.

  Shane fell into step beside her. The silence was strained between them but he didn’t know what else to say. There were only so many times and ways he could apologize. He figured time would be the best salve to the hurt he’d caused.

  She surprised him, though, when they reached her house. Instead of hurrying inside as he figured she would, she stopped, stared at the soft light peeking from between the curtains of the family’s parlor.

  “I won’t step between you and Silver, Shane, but if you change your mind about her, if for some reason she isn’t what you really want...”

  Shane shook his head. Was she really telling him she’d still be waiting? For a man she knew didn’t have romantic feelings for her?

  “Melissa,” he said, “why would you—”

  But she walked away before he could finish and soon the front door clicked shut behind her. He was left at the bottom of the porch in near darkness, wondering at her words. Not at the ones she’d spoken, but the ones she hadn’t. Because sure as he standing staring at the closed door, there was more to Melissa’s willingness to wait for a man who didn’t love her than he understood.

  Chapter Ten

  On a darkened Main Street, Shane stopped in front of his office. Though it was only Wednesday, lights, music and the hullabaloo of a good time tumbled from Grey’s saloon. Across the street Silver’s was much quieter and while he didn’t see anyone outside, judging by the number of horses tied to the hitching post, she, too, was enjoying a profitable evening.

  Shane stood, torn. More than anything he wanted to go to Silver’s. Even if she were too busy to do more than say hello, he’d be content to just sit and watch her. But with a murderer on the loose, he had a job to do.

  Shane was fairly skilled at drawing and after he’d left Charlotte’s this afternoon, after her confirmation that the man he’d seen go upstairs with her was indeed the man who’d beat her, he’d gone to his office and penciled a drawing of the man’s face before he forgot the details. Not only had he done it in case any next of kin ever came looking for him, but Shane intended to show it around, see if anyone recognized the man.

  Unlocking his office, Shane pulled the drawing from his desk, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket. The noise increased the closer he got to Grey’s. Ignoring the whore and the man who had his hands full of her naked breasts, Shane pushed open the swinging doors. The cacophony of conversation, music and shouting pelted him like buckshot. He’d just walked in but already he felt dirty from the stench of sweat, rotgut, and sex that choked the air.

  He didn’t miss the few surreptitious glances sliding toward him, nor the way Ephraim rolled his eyes when he spotted Shane. Undaunted by both, Shane took his time taking in the room and the men gathered round the tables. Cards snapped as they were shuffled, glasses slammed onto the wooden surfaces as they were emptied. Whores sprawled across laps, their lips red and ready, the gleam in their eyes hungry as any bear crawling out of hibernation.

  Shane had no idea what brought so many people out tonight but it didn’t take long to realize he recognized every one of them. Nevertheless, it was possible one of these men had seen his mystery man about and hopefully could answer the question bothering Shane the most, had he been alone or was he indeed riding with others as Charlotte had said? As Shane suspected.

  Not everyone Shane asked was accommodating, however. While a few admitted they’d seen the man at Grey’s the night Charlotte had been beaten, others weren’t so forthcoming with their answers. Of those few, most talked once Shane told them the man was dead and wouldn’t be coming after them if they talked. But there was one, a gruff trapper named Jedidiah Hornsby, who refused to say anything at all. It wasn’t until Shane threatened to see if a night in jail would loosen his tongue that Jedidiah finally admitted what he knew.

  And what he said confirmed Shane’s fears.

  Talking around the chaw tucked in his cheek he said, “I never talked to ’im. But we left about the same time that night he was with Charlotte. He was too drunk to notice me and I—” His grin revealed yellow and browning teeth. “I was hopin’ maybe he had a claim we could share so I followed him.” Jedidiah spat out a disgusting mouthful of foul-smelling spit. “But he didn’t go all the way into the mountains. He stopped at some camp in the hills.”

  “Were there others?”

  “Counting the man I followed, there were four altogether and before you ask, it was too dark and they were too far away to see clearly.” He spat again. “That’s about all I can tell ya.”

  He did better than that; he gave Shane the appro
ximate location of that camp. Pushing back from the table, Shane thanked Jedidiah and re-folded his paper.

  He was already planning to ride out in the morning. This time, he’d bring Owen. He wasn’t about to confront men he suspected of murder on his own.

  Stepping outside, he nearly tripped over the man and the whore. They’d moved from the shadows and nearly blocked the door.

  “Take it upstairs,” Shane ordered. “Folks walking by don’t need to see this.”

  Though nobody was walking by they caught the light glinting off his silver badge and hightailed it inside. With the doors swinging behind him Shane looked across the quiet street. Well, he’d shown the picture around Grey’s, he might as well do the same around Silver’s. He was halfway across the street when he recognized the man striding down the boardwalk.

  “Just when I thought when my cells may stay empty tonight,” Shane called over.

  Wade stopped in the light of Silver’s. The yellow glow caught his grin. “Scott’s already inside.” He jerked a thumb to the door of the saloon. “When you weren’t sitting at the bar I volunteered to head over to your place and drag you down here.” He rocked back on his heels. “Imagine my disappointment when you weren’t home.”

  Shane snorted. “As though you could drag me anywhere.”

  “Want to wager on it?” Wade asked.

  Since Shane wasn’t about to admit the years Wade had spent ranching likely made him stronger and therefore quite capable of dragging Shane around, though not easily, Shane slapped his friend on the shoulder as he walked past him.

  Shaking his head, Shane said, “It’s no fun wagering when I already know the outcome.”

  “Yeah.” Wade chortled as he followed Shane through the swinging doors. “You know I’d win.”

  Shane’s stomach jumped a little when he stepped into the saloon. It wasn’t uncommon for that to happen, nor for his gaze to seek out the woman responsible for his reaction. Since the first time he’d clapped eyes on her, she’d drawn him in with her spirit, determination, and beauty. He found her at the bar pouring whiskey into a trio of glasses, her mouth curved in a warm smile as she listened to whatever Scott was telling her.