Wyoming Lawman

by Victoria Bylin

  “Don’t say that.” She didn’t blame her father for the violence she’d suffered. She blamed Franklin Dean for being evil.

  He held up one hand. “Let me finish.”

  She obeyed but only out of habit.

  “God has a plan for your life,” he said. “It’s good, but you need the courage to walk that path. You can do it, Pearl. You’re brave and smart and as beautiful as your mother. Any man in Cheyenne would be blessed to have you for a wife.”

  She wanted to believe him, but her father saw her through rose-colored lenses. When he kissed her good-night, he still called her “princess.” Even so, she smiled at him. “Thank you, Papa.”

  “Now go write that note.”

  Her stomach twisted. “I don’t know—”

  “I do.” Tobias aimed his thumb at the secretary in the corner. “Get busy. We’ll ask the clerk to deliver it when we leave to see Carrie.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m positive.” He gave her a look he’d often used in the pulpit. “It’s about time you showed a little faith—both in God and in people.”

  Pearl had no assurance Matt Wiley wouldn’t laugh at her note, but she had walked with the Lord as long as she could remember. “All right. I’ll do it.”

  “Good.” Tobias glanced at the wall clock. “I’m going to finish that nap.”

  As he left the sitting room, Pearl went to the secretary, opened the drawer and removed stationery, an inkwell and an elegant pen. She positioned the paper on the blotter, filled the well and wrote the note. Both formal and friendly, the wording struck her as just right and she blew the ink dry. On a whim, she added a P.S., then sealed the note and checked on Toby. Satisfied he’d stay asleep, she took the note to the front desk before she could change her mind about asking a “what if” of her own.

  The instant Matt set foot in the sheriff’s office, his friend and partner, Dan Cobb, held up two envelopes and grinned. “Here you go, Romeo.”

  Scowling, Matt snagged the letters. They were both written on ivory stationery and sealed with white wax. One displayed his name in a script he recognized as belonging to Sarah’s teacher. Miss Carrie Hart taught the youngest girls at Miss Marlowe’s School, and she frequently sent home glowing notes about his daughter. They often chatted when he met Sarah after school, and they’d become casual friends.

  The other letter displayed pretty writing that said, “To Deputy Matt and Sarah.” Pearl must have gotten the hair ribbons.

  Fighting a smile, he dropped down on his chair and started to open the letter from Pearl. As the seal popped, Dan’s chair squeaked. Matt looked up, caught his friend staring and scowled. “What are you looking at?”

  Dan grinned. “Looks to me like a couple of pretty ladies have their eyes on you.”

  Matt had no interest in ladies, pretty or otherwise. He held up the first envelope. “This one’s from Carrie Hart. She’s Sarah’s teacher.”

  “I know Carrie.” Dan sounded wistful. “I see her at church.”

  Matt saw a chance to take a friendly jab. “Judging by that hangdog look, you’re sweet on her.”

  “What if I am?”

  Matt huffed. “Beware, my friend. Marriage isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

  “That’s your opinion.”

  “It’s the voice of experience.” He’d never forget quarreling with Bettina, how she’d cried when he’d left to go with the Rangers. He’d felt guilty for leaving and even worse the times he’d stayed.

  Dan wagged his finger at the second envelope. “Who sent that one?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Sure it is,” Dan replied. “We’re partners.”

  Matt considered the deputy his best friend, but he didn’t want an audience when he read the notes. He gave Dan a pointed stare. “Don’t you have some outlaws to catch?”

  “No, but I hear you had a run-in with Jasper.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  The quarrel especially rankled because he hadn’t been on duty when Jasper summoned him. Matt wore his badge and gun all the time, but he’d taken the morning off to be with Sarah. Last night she’d fussed about his long hours, so he’d promised to spend the morning with her. To his chagrin, she’d wanted to play dolls. Matt wasn’t much on dolls, so he’d suggested a tea party with real cake at Madame Fontaine’s bakery. Halfway to the shop, Jasper had waylaid him and Sarah had run off.

  Matt told Dan everything except the part about Sarah’s braids. Neither did he mention his trip to the dress shop. After choosing the ribbons—all the blue ones he could see—he’d arranged for a delivery to Pearl, then left Sarah eating cookies with Madame Fontaine while he patched up things with Jasper. It hadn’t gone well.

  “Jasper’s a nuisance,” Dan complained. “What did he want this time?”

  “Same thing as before.”

  “The Peters kid?”

  “You guessed it.” Matt propped his boots on the desk. He didn’t usually sit that way, but something about Jasper inspired bad manners. “Teddy Peters swiped some candy off the counter. My gut tells me Jasper put it out to tempt him. The kid bolted, and now Jasper wants him tossed in jail.”

  Dan shook his head. “Seems like a talk with his folks would be enough.”

  “That’s what I did. Teddy’s mother made him pay, and he’s doing extra chores.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “Jasper didn’t think so.” Matt could hardly believe what he was about to say. “He threatened to have my badge.”

  “He what?”

  “He thinks I’m too soft for the job.”

  “That fool!”

  “Don’t waste your breath.” Matt swung his boots off the desk. “Jasper’s a thorn, but I’ve dealt with worse.”

  Dan stayed silent a moment too long. “Don’t underestimate him, Wiley. The man’s got a dark side.”

  Matt’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Secrets,” Dan answered. “Jasper’s got one, and I’m willing to bet he’d do anything to keep it.”

  Matt knew about secrets. He had one of his own. “Tell me.”

  “You know the hog ranch north of town?”

  Dan wasn’t talking about farm animals. Hog ranch was slang for the lowest form of prostitution. Women in that regrettable line of work had often taken a downhill slide from fancy brothels to run-down saloons. As they lost their looks and their health, they slid further and ended up at wretched establishments located on the outskirts of town. Such places were called hog ranches, and they attracted men and women who couldn’t sink much lower. As a Ranger, Matt had walked into such places in search of wanted men. “Are you saying Jasper—”

  “Yep.”

  Not a week passed that Jasper didn’t send a high-and-mighty letter to the newspaper about prostitution. Being caught at a hog ranch would shame him more than anything. Matt had to hold back a snort. “The man’s a flaming hypocrite. How’d you hear about it?”

  “Ben Hawks told me before he left.”

  A fellow deputy, Ben had left town shortly after Matt arrived. An aunt in St. Louis had died and left him a small fortune. Matt hadn’t questioned the timing, but he did now. Had Jasper bought the man’s silence?

  Dan steepled his fingers. “After Ben left, Jasper started up with those letters. Just before that, the other trouble started.”

  Matt’s brow furrowed. “You mean Jed Jones.”

  “And the fire at the livery.”

  A month ago Matt had found Jones, a suspected horse thief, hanging from a tree in Grass Valley. A few days later the livery had been torched. Some folks thought the owner had bought stolen horses. Last week the Silver Slipper Dance Hall had been the target. Riders wearing masks and black derbies had shot out the windows while chanting “Go! Go! Go!”

  Matt recognized the work of vigilantes, but who were they? And why were they striking now? Both questions had possible answers. Horse thieves had raided Troy Martin’s place three
times since August. Another rancher, Howard Moreland, had lost a prize stallion. The men were friends and active in the Golden Order. Matt didn’t care for the civic organization at all. The group tended to make unreasonable demands like the one Jasper had made about Teddy. Chester Gates, a banker, served as president. Jasper belonged to the G.O., too. He’d been a founding member.

  The news about Jasper’s secret made Matt wonder about the trouble at the Silver Slipper. What better way for the shopkeeper to hide his visit to the hog ranch than by attacking another place of prostitution? Chester Gates also had a beef related to the dance hall. The owner, Scottie Fife, had outbid him for some prime land. Whoever owned the property would make a fortune if the railroad expanded its headquarters.

  Matt had taken “Go! Go! Go!” to be a command, but perhaps it had been a calling card. Everyone in Cheyenne knew G.O. stood for “Golden Order.” If these men had gone bad—a strong possibility, Matt had seen corruption in Texas—they had to be stopped before innocent people suffered.

  Matt knew the cost of such violence and not as a victim. As long as he lived, he’d be ashamed of what he’d done in Virginia. Until that night, he’d been a man who prayed. Not anymore. He looked at Dan. “We need to keep an eye on the Golden Order.”

  “I agree.” The deputy gave a sad shake of his head. “Jed Jones was a liar and a thief, but he didn’t deserve a necktie party.”

  A lynching… Matt’s blood turned to ice. With every nerve in his body, he wished someone had stopped him and his men the night they’d tossed a rope over the branch of a tree. He couldn’t change what had happened to Amos McGuckin, but he could stop it from happening again. “We’ll stop these men. The only question is how.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

  Dan went to fetch his hat. “We won’t catch anyone sitting in the office. I’m going to take a walk.”

  “Watch your step,” Matt replied.

  As Dan passed Matt’s desk, he noticed the letters and put his hand over his heart. “Romeo…Romeo…”

  “Shut up,” Matt joked.

  Dan put on his hat. “You ought to take one of those ladies to see Romeo and Juliet at the Manhattan.”

  The new theater offered fine plays and bad acting. The performance of Romeo and Juliet was said to be particularly awful. “Forget it,” Matt answered.

  Chuckling, Dan walked out of the office, leaving Matt alone with the notes. He knew what the one from Carrie would say. Yesterday she’d invited him to bring Sarah to have supper with some cousins of hers, a minister and his daughter arriving from Denver. He figured the daughter was a little girl who liked to play with dolls. The note would be a reminder to come at six o’clock. The thought of an evening with a minister set Matt’s teeth on edge, but he could tolerate anything for a couple of hours. Except church, he reminded himself. He hadn’t set foot in a house of God for ten years, and he didn’t plan to change his habits.

  He ignored Carrie’s letter and lifted the one from Pearl. He liked how she’d called him Deputy Matt, echoing the way he’d signed the card with the ribbons. Pleased, he peeled off the wax and read.

  Dear Deputy Matt and Sarah,

  Thank you for the beautiful ribbons. I’ve never seen lovelier shades of blue and will enjoy them very much. You’ve made a newcomer to Cheyenne feel welcome indeed.

  Regards, Miss Pearl

  Below the curly writing, she’d added a P.S. in block printing. It read, “Sarah, if you’d like me to braid your hair again, I’d be happy to do it.”

  His daughter couldn’t read the words, but she’d know the letters.

  Matt read the letter again, grinning like a fool because he’d charmed Miss Pearl out of her shell. Why he cared, he didn’t know. Not only did she have blond hair, he’d been straight with Dan when he said marriage wasn’t for him.

  He opened the note from Carrie and saw exactly what he expected. Her cousins had arrived and were coming for supper. Good, he thought. Sarah needed a friend.

  Matt glanced at the clock. He had a couple of hours before he had to be at Carrie’s house, so he opened the office ledger and recorded his conversation with Jasper. If vigilantes were at work in Cheyenne, they had to be stopped. And if Jasper and Gates were behind it, they had to be brought to justice. Matt wished someone had stopped him that night. He wished for a lot of things he couldn’t have…a mother for Sarah, a good night’s sleep. Maybe someday he’d be able to forget. Until then, he had a job to do.

  Chapter Three

  As the hired carriage neared her cousin’s house, Pearl considered the neighborhood. Cheyenne still had the ragged feel of a frontier town, but railroad executives and entrepreneurs had brought their families with the hope of bringing a touch of civility. Carrie’s father had been among the Union Pacific leaders. An engineer by trade, Carlton Hart had built a fine house for his wife and daughter. Tragically, he’d died two years ago in a blasting accident. A few months later, his wife had succumbed to influenza.

  Rather than go back east, Carrie had taken a position at Miss Marlowe’s School for Girls. Pearl hoped to carve out a similar place for herself, but she had no illusions about her chances. Toby, swaddled in blue and snug in her arms, called her character into question. Some people would gossip about her out-of-wedlock child. Others would shun her. She knew from her experience in Denver that only a few would be kind. Without Carrie’s support, Pearl didn’t have a chance of being hired as a teacher.

  As the carriage rolled to a halt, her father touched her arm. “You can still change your mind about explaining to Carrie. I’ll talk to her first.”

  “No, Papa.”

  She hadn’t come to Cheyenne to be a coward. If she couldn’t face her cousin, how could she manage an interview with the trustees of Mrs. Marlowe’s School? Meeting Carrie would be good practice. That’s why she’d worn her second-best dress, a blue-gray silk with a lace jabot. For added courage, she’d tied three of Deputy Matt’s ribbons into a fancy bow and pinned them to her hat. Not only did they complement her dress, they also matched Toby’s baby blanket.

  Tobias climbed out of the carriage, paid the driver and offered his hand. “Are you ready, princess?”

  She wished he’d stop using the nickname. It made her feel small when she needed to be adult. She’d have spoken up, but her father looked as nervous as she felt. Being careful not to jostle Toby, she took her father’s hand and climbed out of the carriage. The door to the house opened and she saw a young woman with a heart-shaped face and brown hair arranged in a neat chignon.

  “Pearl! Uncle Tobias!” Beaming with pleasure, Carrie hurried down the path. “I’m so glad you’re—” She stopped in midstep, staring at the bundle in Pearl’s arms. “You have a baby.”

  “I do.”

  Her brows knit in confusion. “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “I’m not.” Pearl took a breath. “I wanted to tell you in person. A letter just didn’t…I couldn’t…” She bit her lip to keep from rambling.

  As Carrie stared in shock, Pearl fought to stay calm. First reactions, even bad ones, meant nothing. She had them all the time, especially to men who reminded her of Franklin Dean. A person’s second response was what mattered.

  Carrie’s gaze dipped to the baby, lingered, then went back to Pearl. She didn’t speak, but her eyes held questions.

  Pearl didn’t want to explain herself in the street. She wanted the privacy of four walls, the dignity she’d been denied by the man who’d taken her virtue. Thinking of the ribbons on her hat, a declaration of her courage, she squared her shoulders. “I’ll explain everything, but could we go inside?”

  Carrie touched her arm. “It’ll be all right, cousin.”

  Pearl’s throat tightened.

  “Whatever happened, we’re family.”

  “You don’t even know—”

  “I know you,” Carrie insisted. “We’ve been writing for months now. Besides, our mothers were sisters.”


  Tears pushed into Pearl’s eyes. No matter what happened, she had a friend.

  “Don’t cry,” Carrie said. “You’ll get all puffy.”

  As if being puffy were the worst of her problems… Pearl laughed out loud. She tried to speak but hiccupped instead. As she covered her mouth, Carrie pulled her into a hug. The gesture shot Pearl back to Swan’s Nest where Adie Clarke, now Adie Blue, had opened her home and her heart. Mary, another boarder, had taught Pearl to be bold. Bessie and Caroline had delivered her baby and proved that a faithful woman could survive any heartache.

  Courage, from her friends and from the ribbons, gave her the strength to spell out the facts for Carrie. “I was attacked by a man I trusted. I refuse to call him Toby’s father.”

  Carrie hugged her as hard as she could. “You poor dear!”

  Eager to get past the ugliness, Pearl blurted the facts. She’d gone for a buggy ride with Franklin Dean, the man she’d expected to marry. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, he forced himself on her and left her with child. He’d demanded marriage, but Pearl had refused. Instead she’d taken refuge at Swan’s Nest, a boarding house for women in trouble.

  By the time she finished the story, Carrie had guided her up the steps and into the foyer. Her father had followed at a distance, giving them time to talk. As he approached, Pearl gave him a watery smile. “We’re going to be all right.”

  “More than all right,” Carrie insisted.

  Relief brightened Tobias’s silvery eyes, but the creases edging his mouth had deepened. “We’re grateful to you, Carrie.”

  The brunette waved off the praise. “We’ll talk about the school over supper. I’ve invited a friend. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” Pearl loved the women at Swan’s Nest. She hoped to make good friends in Cheyenne.

  Her cousin’s eyes sparkled. “His name is Matt Wiley.”

  Pearl gasped.

  “Don’t worry.” Carrie reached for her hand. “I know you’re in a delicate situation, but Matt’s not one to judge. He might even help us. His little girl goes to Miss Marlowe’s.”