Brace shook his head. “Not tonight, you won’t.” He reached behind him, opened the desk drawer and removed a ring of keys. They jangled at his touch, and he palmed them, then stood erect. “You need to use the necessary before I put you in a cell?” he asked politely. “There’s one out back.”
He watched the blush climb her cheeks, painting her throat and then suffusing her face with color. “You’re determined not to leave me any self-respect, aren’t you?” Her jaw clenched, and again her hair caught the light as she tossed her head defiantly.
“I’d think you’d rather use the outdoor facility than the slop pail in your cell,” he said reasonably. “Up to you.”
“What’s the charge against me?” she asked, obviously reluctant to accompany him to a cell.
“Vagrancy, for now,” he told her. “I’ll decide in the morning if I need to jail you for threatening to murder a man. All depends on how the night goes.”
“How the night goes? What is that supposed to mean?” Her face lost its rosy hue quickly as she responded to his statement. Then she rose with care, as if her legs required a bit of coaxing in order to hold her upright. “Lead the way, Sheriff,” she said.
“First, let’s see if you’re wearing a weapon,” he said mildly. “If you were planning on shooting a man, chances are you have access to a gun.” He cast a measuring glance at her and couldn’t resist a smile. “Can’t see where you’re hidin’ it, though. Those pants fit you like a glove.”
“Are you going to search me?” she asked. “Shall I empty my pockets?”
“Are you armed?” he returned, taking one long step, looking down at her from closer range.
She shook her head. “No. I have a gun in my saddlebag.” And then she shrugged. “Unless you count the knife in my pocket, I’m not much of a threat to you.”
“Let’s have the knife,” he said, holding out his hand.
She slid slender fingers into her side pocket and withdrew a small penknife, placing it onto his palm with a slap. “There you are. Did you feel threatened?”
“Any weapon is dangerous if its user is intent on causing bodily harm,” he answered quietly. “This little knife could do a lot of damage.”
“Well, all it’s been used for up until now is cutting branches to use for bedding and for a spit over my fire.”
Brace slid it into his pocket. “For tonight, it’ll be safe with me,” he told her. “Now, have you decided about the trip out back?”
“I suppose you’re coming along.” Her words were a statement of fact, he decided, and he answered in like form.
“You’d better believe it, ma’am.”
He lifted a hand toward the back door of the jail, and she led the way past two empty cells and then opened the door to the outside. The darkness was almost solid before them, the moon hidden behind a cloud, the stars barely seen. The faint outline of a small building gave notice of her destination, and Sarah walked toward it.
“Do I get to go in alone?” she asked, her hand on the latch.
“Now, Miss Sarah, you should know better than to ask that. I’m not a man given to looking where I’ve not been invited. I’ll just wait right here.”
She pulled the door closed behind her and he grinned into the darkness. Damn, she was a handful. He’d give much to keep her around for a while, but overnight was probably as far as he could go without causing an uproar, should the ladies in town hear of it. Turning his back on the outhouse, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.
Standing with her hand on the latch wasn’t getting her anywhere, Sarah decided. The knowledge that the lawman waited outside, just six feet away, was daunting, the presence of a jail cell with her name on it even more so. She’d never been in jail. Indeed, had never had a run-in with the law in any way, shape or form. Unless she counted the sheriff who’d checked out Sierra’s death and uttered bland words of sympathy.
The door opened silently, but the sheriff turned to face her without hesitation. His face was a blurred shadow in the night, the shine of the silver star on his shirt allowing her to spot his form before her. Walking beside him, she headed for the jailhouse and reached for the door. The light from the lawman’s office cast a gleam before her and she stepped inside the hallway and waited for him.
“I’ll get you a bucket of water and a towel,” he offered, gripping her elbow and crossing to the first cell. Using the largest key on his ring, he opened the door and swung it wide, ushering her inside.
Without protest she obeyed his unspoken order and stepped into the small cubicle. Just large enough for a simple cot, a chair and the aforementioned slop pail in one corner, it was barren of any comforts, and she scanned the bed she would use for the night.
“I’ll get a blanket and see if I can scout up a pillow for you,” the sheriff said.
“Don’t you have many prisoners, Sheriff?” she asked. “I’d think these lovely rooms would come complete with furnishings.”
“Nope. Benning is a pretty quiet town. Not much doing usually.”
“No wonder you were so thrilled with finding a lawbreaker like me on the premises,” she said caustically. The cot beckoned, and she made a deliberate effort to appear nonchalant as she walked across the cell and sat down.
He stood in the open door of her accommodations and slid one hand into his pocket. “I’ll be right back with all the comforts of home,” he told her, then closed the metal portal with a clang and walked toward his office.
Sarah watched him go, finally allowing her trembling hands permission to entwine in her lap. Her breath was rasping in her lungs, and she felt a deluge of tears threatening. Not for the world would she succumb to their flow until the dratted lawman was far, far away, she decided. No doubt he’d settle her for the night and then go on home, where he probably had a nice comfortable bed.
And then in less than five minutes she discovered how wrong she was.
“My name’s Brace Caulfield,” the lawman told her as he approached with one arm full of blanket and pillow, a white towel balanced atop the pile. His other hand held a bucket of water, and he deposited it on the floor while he unlocked the cell.
Ungraciously she sat on the bunk while he carried his bundle inside and placed the bedding on the chair, then lowered the bucket to the floor at the foot of her cot. Only her good upbringing forced her to utter a grudging thanks for his efforts, and she was answered with a brief nod.
From his back pocket he withdrew a candle and several matches and in less than a minute had lit the taper, then allowed the wax to drip onto the floor. The candle was set in place, and its glow illuminated the cell around her, providing comfort she hadn’t expected. She hoped it would last at least until she went to sleep, although that might be a long time from now.
“I’ll be in my office all night,” he told her. “If you need anything, just call out.”
“You’re not going home?” she asked disbelievingly. Surely the man had a home to call his own.
“Not with a female in my jail,” he told her forcefully. “There’s not much chance of danger to you, but I don’t think it’s wise to ask for trouble. That saloon down the street is full of fellas who’d give their eyeteeth for a chance to touch your pretty face.”
“I doubt they know I’m here,” she protested, unwilling to face the thought of him in the next room.
“Well, we’re not gonna give them a chance to come looking, are we?” Locking the door with a quick twist of the key, he stuffed the ring into his pocket and watched her for a moment through the bars. “You’re safe, Miss Murphy. If you’re thinking I’m gonna come in here and bother you, don’t give it another thought. My mama raised me to be a gentleman.”
And somehow Sarah knew he spoke the truth. In the light of her candle, his eyes were dark and shadowed, yet compelling, as if he looked into her very depths and knew the fears she held within her.
The candle indeed lasted, longer than she’d expected, and her gaze focused on it for long minutes as she coa
xed her body to relax on the hard cot. It still burned as her eyes finally shut.
She awoke in the dark, aware of another presence nearby, and sat up with a start.
“It’s all right, Sarah. It’s me, Sheriff Caulfield.” The voice came from outside her cell, and as she focused on its source she was able to see the tall, shadowed figure of the man who spoke.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep.
“No. Just making sure you’re all right. Do you want another candle?”
It would not be wise to give in to her natural inclination, she decided, and refused his offer. Inviting the man into her cell was the last thing she wanted to do in the middle of the night, given her trembling hands and fearful thoughts. He was too inviting, his calm, sure voice offering security and safekeeping. And she needed every bit of independence she could muster for the days ahead.
“No, I’m fine,” she told him, with a fine disregard for the truth, then placed her head back on the thin pillow and closed her eyes, choosing to live with the lie she’d spoken.
Chapter Two
Sleeping on a chair guaranteed a miserable night. Brace had realized it before midnight, and by three in the morning he was ready to occupy the cell next door to his prisoner. The fact that she would likely rouse and be wary of his presence a few feet from where she lay kept him seated before his desk. His head finally sought the hard surface and he dozed fitfully, opening his eyes when the rising sun appeared in the window.
Yawning and stretching, he made his way to the cell where Sarah slept, curled on her side, the blanket drawn up over her shoulder, the miserable pillow tucked and rolled beneath her neck. At least she’d had a flat surface upon which to spend the night. Hard and barren of a mattress it might be, but he’d warrant the cot was a sight more comfortable than the chair he’d occupied.
His key rattled in the lock and the young woman’s eyes blinked, then opened fully, and she peered at him blankly for a moment. Then recognition kicked in and she pulled the blanket over her head. “Go away.” It wasn’t even a polite request.
He ignored the words with a grin as he stepped into the cell. “Thought you might want to take a walk,” he suggested, as if it were an option. Either she went now or in an hour or so. And unless he missed his guess, she was going to be mighty uncomfortable if she had to sit on that cot until he returned with her breakfast.
“A walk?” The blanket flew off and she swung her legs over the side, sitting upright and shaking her head as if to clear it. A yawn required covering her mouth with one hand, and then she eyed him boldly. “And where is this walk going to take me? To the gallows?” she asked sweetly. “Or haven’t you had time to get them built yet?”
“You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman dependent on my good nature,” Brace said softly. He turned from her and stepped through the cell door.
“Wait.” The single word halted his progress, and he glanced at her idly over his shoulder.
“What for? You all of a sudden decide to be polite?”
She sighed and rose, staggering a bit as she took a single step toward him. An involuntary sound passed her lips and he frowned as she gritted her teeth and shuffled her way to the door where he stood.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the accommodations?”
“Not much. The ground was softer, I think. At least I had a little grass under me.”
“Where was that?” Brace asked.
She shook her head. “Couldn’t say. Somewhere the other side of town. Under a tree, next to a creek.”
“Wallin’s Creek, probably,” he surmised. “About four miles down the train tracks and a little to the south.”
“That sounds about right.” She halted in the cell doorway and looked at the back door. “That door unlocked?”
Brace shook his head. “Nope. I’ll have to open it for you.” Easing past her, he brushed against her shoulder and she flinched from the contact. “Sorry,” he said lightly. “Didn’t mean to push you.”
She recovered quickly. “You didn’t. Just caught me off balance.” Her eyes were bright blue, he noted again, just before she lowered the lids, hiding her expression from his sight. Dark hair hung in a tumble of waves and curls over her shoulders and down her back. His gaze was drawn by the sight. He’d thought he preferred golden hair, but with a slow grin he revised his opinion.
In seconds he’d unlocked the door and opened it, waving her through. “Go ahead,” he invited, and then watched as she walked past him and down the short path to the outhouse. She was easy enough to look at, he decided, taking full advantage of the view of her rounded bottom, outlined nicely by the pants she wore. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited patiently until she reappeared.
“I’ll get you some warm water if you want to wash up while I’m gone,” he told her as she walked past him again, heading for the open cell door.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said politely. And then ruined the nicely spoken words with a glare from those brilliant eyes. “How long will it take for you to decide I’m not a threat to your community, Sheriff?”
“You in a hurry to go someplace?” He locked the cell door and stepped away from the bars.
“You know damn well I am,” she said bitterly. “You’re holding me without a valid reason, and you know it. Either charge me with a crime or let me go.”
“All right,” he said agreeably. “I’ll think of something while I go find you some breakfast.”
She settled on the edge of the cot and leaned her chin on her fist. “Don’t forget the warm water. I’d like to scrub the smell of your jailhouse off my skin.”
“Your skin smelled pretty clean to me,” he told her. “I took special note of it.”
Her glare would have melted wax, he thought, and smiled to himself as he strolled back into his office. A bucket from the closet clutched in one hand, he left the jailhouse and walked across the street to the hotel. The alley led to the kitchen door and he pushed it open and inhaled the scent of breakfast.
“You got some warm water I can use?” he asked.
Bess Casey looked up from the griddle where six round pancakes were browning and waved a hand at the reservoir attached to the side of the cookstove. “You know where it is. Same place it was last time you needed some for washin’ up.”
“It’s not for me,” he said. “I’ve got a prisoner over at the jail. I’ll need some breakfast right quick, too. And about four cups of coffee.”
“Bad night?” Bess asked with a questioning look. “You look a sight, mister.”
“Sleepin’ on a chair’ll do that to you,” he agreed.
“I suspect you’ve got a perfectly good bedroom in that house of yours,” she told him. “Why didn’t you use it?”
“My prisoner is a female,” he said, that explanation enough to make Bess nod her head.
“Good enough reason,” she said. “Does the lady want coffee, too?”
“I’ll find out,” Brace said, dipping water into his bucket. “I’ll take this to her and be right back.”
“You’ll have to wait a bit. Got four orders for breakfast lined up already,” Bess told him. “I’ll put more bacon on right away.”
He nodded and left the kitchen, the scent of hot coffee wafting behind him. If he’d brought his mug along he could have taken a cupful with him.
The storekeeper was out front, sweeping the sidewalk as if his very life depended on the cleanliness of the wide boards. “Mornin’, Sheriff Caulfield.”
Brace nodded a greeting. Mr. Metcalfe was not one of his favorite people, but he’d at least be civil. The flagpole in front of the newly built post office was still empty, but even as Brace glanced that way Titus Liberty came out the door with the spanking new flag in his arms. “Morning, Sheriff,” the gentleman said smartly. “You’re up early.”
“So are you, Titus,” he said.
“Almost time for the morning train. Got to meet it and pick up the mail.” Having graduate
d from a corner of the general store to a building constructed by the government for his use, Titus was proud of his position. “You expectin’ anything in the mail?” he asked Brace.
“Doubt it.” And if he was, he’d have to spend an hour deciphering it. Reading was a problem. He’d about decided to contact the new schoolteacher and see if she’d be willing to take up his lessons where the last volunteer had left off. His lips formed a straight line as he thought of the woman he’d had in his sights and spent more than a year yearning for. Faith was gone, and with her his hopes for a home and family of his own.
Honesty made him recognize that she’d never been his, but he’d had dreams. His pace had slowed crossing the road, and now he turned the handle on his office door and stepped inside. Dust motes floated in the sunlight and he left the door open, allowing the warmth to invade the interior of the building.
“Here’s your water,” he said, keeping an eye out as he approached the cell. Sarah sat on the cot, right where he’d left her, and he placed the bucket on the floor while he opened the cell door. Setting it inside, he nodded at her. “Breakfast will be here in ten minutes or so. I’m going back right now for coffee. You want some?”
She nodded and rose to walk toward him. “Thanks for the warm water,” she said, a bit grudgingly, he thought. The woman was obviously unable to ignore the manners she’d been taught in her lifetime, and he smiled his acknowledgment of her words.
“My pack was tied on behind my saddle,” she told him. “Can I have it?”
“What’s in it?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “Besides the gun.” Doggone. He’d forgotten the dratted thing last night, so besotted with the female in front of him he’d neglected his duty as a lawman.
Texas Lawman Page 2
