An Unexpected Redemption
Page 25
He chuckled, grateful to have her living and standing close beside him. One more day, and she’d be there forever. “Mighty sure of yourself.”
She moved in front of him, and slid her left foot between his boots. Lifting daring eyes, she lowered her voice to a level that made his blood hot. “I got you, didn’t I?”
CHAPTER 29
Betsy’s blood boiled when she read the letter Mr. Gladstone had written to Anthony Rochester. Lies and nothing but.
Sliding it back beneath the desk blotter, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d have to forgive Gladstone too.
For the moment, she preferred to think about the few days she and Garrett would spend at the ranch—after the U.S. Marshall took Rochester off Garrett’s hands.
Evidently, the man was wanted in Kansas for the same insurance premium scam he’d run in Olin Springs. He may have not been the actual arsonist, but he consumed people’s hard-earned money just as quickly as a fire.
She pushed away from his mahogany desk and walked into the back room. Precious little there, aside from a cot, boxes of books, and a lock box. Garrett and Mr. Harrison would be in to open it and count the money before Harrison deposited it in the bank.
She wanted to take a shot at it herself. Literally. Garrett’s Colt would easily disable the lock, but a well-aimed Winchester rifle would blow it off.
Until then, Garrett had entrusted her with going through her former employer’s records for names of people who must be reimbursed for exorbitant fire insurance premiums and others who had entrusted important legal matters to the scoundrel. A reputable attorney was expected any day from Denver to take over matters for the residents of Olin Springs.
She returned to the desk chair and waited for Garrett and Mr. Harrison, reminiscing over Saturday’s perfect wedding and her first day as the sheriff’s wife.
Inevitably, she and Garrett had their first argument as a married couple that very same day. He wanted them to go to Cedar City as planned. She argued that he couldn’t afford to leave Rochester without a decent guard, in spite of Erik sleeping at the jail each night. Besides, she didn’t need to go someplace fancy, as he called it, and much preferred a few days riding at the ranch before heavy snow flew.
They eventually made up, and warmth flooded her neck and cheeks as she recalled how well they did so that night in their suite of rooms beneath the cupola.
The office door opened, and the object of her reminiscing walked in carrying a Winchester.
She stood. “Where’s Mr. Harrison?”
Garrett stopped and frowned. “That’s a fine welcome for your husband.”
Laughing, she hurried around the desk and into his embrace for a breath-stealing kiss. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “What’s the rifle for?”
“Not one for small talk, are you?”
She laughed again, something she’d done more in the last few weeks than she had in years.
He handed her the rifle and a box of .44-40 rounds. “Follow me. I’m going to take that strong box out back and see if you’re as good as everybody says you are.”
The man had completely stolen her heart, and he continued to do so over and over.
Just to be on the safe side, she turned the key in the lock on the front door, then followed Garrett out the back.
The feed store was the last building on the east side of Main Street. He marked off fifty paces, set the box in the middle of the alley with the lock facing east, then stepped back several yards and waved his hat.
She slid in two rounds, set her left foot forward, chambered the first round, aimed, and fired. After chambering the second, she aimed and fired again. Both shots hit the lock clean, and the second kicked it into the air.
Garrett whistled.
Lowering the rifle barrel, she followed him to the box.
He flipped over the padlock with the toe of his boot. “Nice work. A clean shot through the shank. Which one do you think hit it?”
“They both did.”
He gave her a challenging look, and the scar tucked into place before his focus shifted over her shoulder.
She turned to see Mr. Harrison running toward them, red-faced and out of breath.
“I heard gunfire and thought Rochester had broken out of jail.” He stopped and leaned on his knees to catch his wind, all the while eyeing Betsy and the rifle.
“Betsy shot the lock off for us. Clean as a whistle.”
“I’m not surprised,” Harrison said as he straightened. “She used to shame the boys in town during the annual rifle match.”
“That’s what I hear.” Garrett picked up the lock and box, looped an arm around her waist, and gave her a quick squeeze. “She hits what she aims at.”
“I’ll see you at supper,” she said and turned toward Maggie’s, rifle in hand. Garrett either hadn’t noticed that she’d walked off with his Winchester or he hadn’t cared.
Perhaps it was a wedding gift.
~
That evening, Maggie shooed them away from the table and convinced Clay to help her with the supper dishes. Betsy took Garrett by the hand, then led him upstairs and along the landing to the door with the glass knob.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
She’d soaped the edges of the door so it opened smoothly, and it gave easily beneath her hand. Lifting her skirt, she trotted up the fourteen steps with Garrett close behind.
At the top, night spread out around them, lights flickering from homes in town and nearby. But the stars outshone them all.
Garrett stepped close against her back, encircling her in his arms.
“I found out something before the reception,” she said as he nuzzled her neck, clouding her thinking and making her giggle. She hunched her shoulders. “Wait. Let me tell you first.”
“I’m listening,” he said, ignoring her request.
She turned to face him, bracing against his warm chest. “I wasn’t going to tell you until we left, but it doesn’t matter now that Rochester is in jail and we’re not leaving.”
Garrett sobered instantly and his eyes darkened to match the night.
“I visited Mrs. Fairfax at the library and she helped me discover what hanabi means.”
His brows drew together impatiently. “What?”
“It’s Japanese for fire flower. As in fireworks. It was Rochester’s code word for fire insurance. And all those other flower names I told you, they’re all red or orange—like fire. Now those strange letters he wrote to the Kansas address make sense.”
“The judge will be glad to hear that, and I’ll be sure to put it in my report. But is that the only thing you brought me all the way up here to tell me, Mrs. Wilson?”
She laughed, lifting her face to the stars.
Gently he pulled the pins from her hair, and it tumbled around her shoulders.
She framed his dear face with her hands, and ran her thumb over the crescent scar.
“There is one more thing, Sheriff Wilson.”
“And that is?” He whispered the words against her neck and pressed her closer.
“I love you. I even love your animals with their ridiculous names.”
He chuckled. “About that.”
She leaned back to better see his expression. “What?”
He looked into her eyes as if drinking her in, and she could think of nothing for which she’d rather be spent. He was the least expected of all she’d found upon coming home, and she wanted to stay like this forever, on top of the world, far removed from the interference of life and circumstance.
Yet she was not so naïve as to think that was possible. “What are you thinking?”
With a smoky smile, he brushed his lips across hers and whispered, “I’m thinking you should name the babies.”
~~~
Thank you for being an Inspirational Western Romance reader.
I hope you enjoyed Betsy and Garrett’s story as much as I enjoyed discovering it. Be sure to check
out Book 1 in the Front Range Brides series,
An Improper Proposal.
If you’d like to leave a brief review on your favorite book websites and other social media, it would bless my boots off!
Acknowledgements:
Thank you to all who aided and supported me in telling Betsy and Garrett’s story, particularly my early readers Jill Maple, Judy Ackerman, and Nancy Huber; editor Christy Distler; cowgirl and horse trainer Lynne Schricker; Cañon City Fire Chief Dan Brixey, (Retired); and 1800s fashion expert Kim Aulerich Mahone.
About the author:
Bestselling author and winner of the Will Rogers Gold Medallion for Inspirational Western Fiction, Davalynn Spencer writes heart-tugging romance with a Western flair. Learn more about Davalynn and her books at www.davalynnspencer.
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~ May all that you read be uplifting. ~