Heart of a Lawman

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Hey, maybe it’s time I learned to use this thing,” he taunted.

  “Give that back, Daniel!” she yelled as the automatic camera whined and clicked several times. “Stop that! You’re wasting my film!”

  “Maybe I’m creating art.” Her brother’s taunt was followed by more whines and clicks.

  “Da-a-ad!”

  “Give your sister her camera, Daniel,” Bart said quietly. “Now.”

  Daniel lowered his arm and a livid Lainey grabbed it from him. She gave the instrument a quick once-over, as if to make certain it was all right. Her hands trembled as they ran over the camera that had belonged to her mother. Bart wanted to cuff his son, who knew exactly how important that camera was to his little sister.

  “That was my last roll, you moron!” Lainey yelled. “Now I can’t take pictures of anything! I hate you! I hate this place!”

  Bart’s insides wrenching, knowing it was the camera she was really freaked out about even if she wouldn’t say so, he promised, “I’ll get you more film later, honey.”

  But Lainey wasn’t talking to him or her brother. She grabbed what bags she could handle and stomped toward the house. Apparently unconcerned, Daniel buried his upper body in the back of the vehicle.

  Sighing, Bart finally turned his full attention to Felice.

  “Where is everyone?” He avoided asking about his brothers. “Curt…Laredo…Enrique?”

  “All gone. The only one left from the old days is Moon-Eye and he’s picking up supplies.”

  All gone.

  All driven away.

  No wonder his father had been so anxious to turn the ranch into a family corporation, Bart thought. Undoubtedly, he figured that way his sons couldn’t walk out on him again.

  “We’ve had a couple of hands come and go since spring,” Felice was saying. “Only one stuck—Frank Ewing.”

  “That makes three of us, then, to run this place,” Bart said, realizing how impossible that would be. “I’ll have to hire a couple of cowboys right away. Unless Reed and Chance show. What are the odds there?”

  “Your father seems convinced they will come home.”

  Home? Would his two half-brothers think of the Curly-Q that way when Bart himself had had such a difficult time doing so? Finally, he got to it. “So, how’s Pa?”

  The housekeeper avoided his eyes. “The same,” she said stiffly.

  That bad. Despite the fact that he and his father had never been close—at least not since he’d been a kid—Bart’s gut constricted.

  “I guess I’d better go tell him we’re here.”

  “Mr. Emmett knows. He’s resting and said he would see you later.”

  Bart swallowed hard and nodded. And only hoped he hadn’t brought his kids to more grief.

  THE TERRITORIAL-STYLE building stood a welcome relief—a thing of gracious beauty amidst the ruins of Silver Springs. And the clack of the brass knocker against the door brought a beautiful woman to open it.

  Wiping her hands on her lace-edged apron, the woman asked, “Can I help you?”

  She quickly smoothed loose strands of thick blond hair from her face and checked the twist at her nape as if to make sure all was secure. The rest of her was equally elegant, Josie noted, from her pearl earrings to her Italian leather pumps.

  “Are you Alcina Dale?” Josie asked in a hesitant, soft voice.

  “In person.”

  “I understand you rent rooms.”

  Entrenched on the porch, face half-hidden by the shadow of a Stetson from which spilled her tangled light brown, shoulder-length hair, Josie felt anything but elegant herself.

  “This is the Springs Bed-and-Breakfast,” Alcina agreed, eyeing the single, aging leather bag Josie had dropped on the porch.

  Josie knew what she must be thinking. A typical guest of a place like this wouldn’t wear jeans ripped at the knees and dusty, down-at-the-heel cowboy boots, or a stained denim jacket slipped over a white T-shirt. But the town didn’t have a regular boarding house, which is what she’d been hoping to find. This was the best suggestion the guy at the gas station could come up with.

  Suddenly she realized Alcina was staring at her waist, where an inscribed silver buckle proclaimed her initials to be J-W. Self-conscious under the close scrutiny, Josie brought a hand to her belt and quickly covered the engraving.

  “The problem is…um, well…I’m looking for work.”

  Alcina sighed. “The seasonal tourist rush is over, and I really can’t afford to pay for help.”

  “I—I thought maybe if you had a really small room, you might let me help you around here for my keep…. All I need is a place to sleep and some food until I get a job. Then I’ll pay you with real money.”

  The note of desperation in her own voice grated on Josie. Sighing, she glanced down the twisted road that made up Main Street. Nothing for her there. Only a handful of occupied storefronts waged war against abandoned buildings and rubble left behind fallen structures.

  “You’re thinking you’ll find work in Silver Springs?” Alcina murmured ruefully.

  “It doesn’t seem likely, does it? I’ve never seen a town still alive and so dead at the same time.”

  “Decades ago, Silver Springs was thriving. That’s when my daddy and his two partners discovered a new lode of silver in the abandoned mine…but then the lode ran out. The town hung on for a while as if it could breathe life back into itself. But over time, everything changed. Businesses got tired. People got tired. Silver Springs just up and died. So, honey, unless one of the ranches around here needs a day worker, I’m afraid there’s nothing here for you.”

  Having been nearly ready to plead for help, Josie firmly tightened her lips and nodded. Her eyes misted over as she stooped to lift her bag…and she winced because the movement hurt.

  She noticed that Alcina had quickly glanced to the street behind her, no doubt looking for a vehicle. But she had no car and no money…no way of getting anywhere else but her thumb.

  Sweeping a tangle of hair out of her face, Josie turned to go. Alcina stared, eyes wide. Josie knew she’d caught a look at the nasty bruise along the left side of her temple and cheek. She tried to hurry away then, before explanations were necessary, but the other woman put out a staying hand.

  “Wait.”

  Shoulders pressed down by the burden of having nowhere to go, Josie hesitated without looking directly at Alcina. She hated needing help. Hated being pitied as if she were a kicked dog or something as equally pitiful.

  “What’s your name?” Alcina asked.

  She softly replied, “Josie,” as she put her free hand to her middle, fingers tracing those initials on the belt buckle. She thought quickly. “Josie…Wales….”

  “Josie Wales—now where have I heard that name before?” Alcina mused, pulling her mouth as if thinking about it. “Are you originally from these parts?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” As if unable to help herself, Alcina said all in a rush, “I do have a small room off the kitchen that I don’t rent to tourists. Actually, it’s my ironing room, but there is a single bed and a dresser—nothing fancy.”

  Josie snapped up her head. “I don’t need fancy.”

  Relief poured through her, lightening her load. She blinked rapidly, stopping herself from outright crying.

  Alcina rushed on. “And I guess the whole house could use a spring cleaning.”

  “Spring?” Josie started. “But it’s fall…isn’t it?”

  Confusion. Again.

  Alcina said, “That it is, but it’s hard to get good help in a ghost town at any time of the year.”

  “I’m willing to do anything you need.”

  “C’mon inside, then. I’ll show you to your room, and after my guests finish their breakfast, I’ll feed you and give you the grand tour. You look like you could use a little rest. Then maybe later you can walk over to the grocery store and pick up a few things for me.”

  “Anything! Th
ank you.”

  Alcina stepped back to let her in. And yet she appeared troubled, as if she worried that she might have reason to regret her simple human kindness.

  The flesh at the back of Josie’s neck prickled at the thought.

  One last look out to the empty street reassuring her, she stepped inside and took a look around at the elegant Victorian decor, as, behind her, Alcina Dale firmly closed the door against the unknown.

  FEELING A WHOLE LOT better on a full stomach and from a lie-down, and with the knowledge that she would have a roof over her head that night, Josie Wales set off for the small grocery store at the other end of Main Street.

  Other end.

  Three whole blocks, with only a handful of establishments lining the winding street cut through low hills open for business—café, law office, bar, whatnot, doctor’s office, home-and-feed, church, grocery, gas station.

  And in between sat skeletal buildings in various stages of decay—reminders of a more prosperous era, as were those railroad tracks that went nowhere but along the boarded-up stagecoach stop. The single-story building of volcanic rock had wooden porches traversing the entire length of each side. Other rutted dirt roads on either side of Main Street led to a few dozen homes whose size, condition and state of occupancy varied, as well.

  Just outside of Silver Springs, what was left of a row of miners’ shacks stood testament to the town’s origin—the old silver mine. Some were little more than stone foundations. As she’d hiked in from the highway, she couldn’t help but notice a strange-looking couple—squatters?—scurrying about the area, setting out displays that appeared to be made of animal bones. Odd, but nothing to unsettle her.

  Not much to Silver Springs, Josie thought, but something about the town drew her, made her think she might be safe here.

  Safe. Was she?

  Despite the warmth of the late October afternoon, a chill swept through her, suddenly making her feel as if hostile eyes followed her every movement. She glanced around. Two women were chatting outside the doctor’s office across the street. A cowboy was hunkered on a bench outside the bar just ahead, his wide-brimmed hat bowed as if he were asleep. Behind her, an old junker of a car headed out of town. And at the end of the street, a fancy black SUV covered with red dust turned out of the gas station.

  Nothing out of place…just like before, when the trucker had stopped his rig to let her out of the cab and she’d sworn someone was watching, though she hadn’t caught anyone at it…and yet…

  What was wrong with her? No one could be following her. No one even knew where she was.

  It was just that she hadn’t really felt safe since awakening in that hospital bed.

  And now she was an outlaw on the run!

  She glanced at the black SUV that crept along the street in her direction. The dark-haired driver seemed to be searching for something…or someone.

  Her?

  Muscles bunched, she was ready to bolt when he looked directly at her…through her…beyond her….

  Realizing that she was of no interest to him, after all, Josie trembled with relief. Not that she could help being a bit paranoid. Undoubtedly that’s what was making her feel those invisible eyes on her.

  Bringing her forefinger to her belt buckle, she traced the initials again and again.

  J.W….J.W….J.W….

  Josie Wales was as good a handle as any.

  She had to calm down. Get herself straight. Make plans.

  Stop imagining dangers where there were none.

  Lost in thought, Josie at first ignored the faint sound coming from the abandoned building preceding the bar. But as she drew closer, she realized it was a cry of distress. Heart thumping, she slowed her step in the deep afternoon shadow cast by the structure and strained to hear.

  A scrabble was followed by a sharp “Meow!”

  A cat.

  Relief shot through her. Just a stray animal.

  But as she moved on, the cry grew pitiful, the scrabbling more frantic, and she stopped again as she drew even with the entrance.

  “Mee-ooww!”

  Josie closed her eyes and sighed. Undoubtedly she would be on a fool’s errand, but she couldn’t go on until she was certain the cat was all right.

  The door hung crooked on its hinges and she had to throw her shoulder into the wood to budge it. The panel inched inward, then twisted so that the top hinge gave. Levering the unexpected weight, she took a quick look around, but nothing had changed—women still talking, cowboy still sleeping, SUV still inching along.

  “Great. Add destruction of property to my crimes,” she muttered. “Not to mention breaking and entering.”

  Another cat cry set her in motion.

  Break and enter she did, stopping for a moment to let her eyes adjust, the interior being lit only by the smidgen of gray allowed through the grimy front windows, and that extending only a few yards before fading to pitch black.

  How thrilling! she thought wryly. She’d never been able to see well in the dark….

  Where had that thought come from?

  Josie shook away another chill and concentrated.

  Rubble decorated the interior of the abandoned shop as far as she could see—what was left of counters and shelves littered with plaster and rotting chunks of wood. As she moved with care, the floor squeaked and bounced beneath her boots. Her stomach tightened.

  The place was dangerous, rotting, collapsing in on itself!

  Stopping, she took a deep breath.

  If any place could inspire paranoid delusions, this was it. Danger could lurk in every dark corner…in every inch of the area that she couldn’t see.

  But of course it didn’t.

  The only danger here was what she could inflict on herself.

  Even so, reluctant to continue without reconnoitering, Josie softly called, “Kitty, where are you?”

  A creak to her right startled her into stepping that way.

  Until a loud “Mee-oow!” pulled her in the opposite direction.

  For a second, she went rigid. Sounds from two directions? Then giddiness bubbled through her. The rotting wood was protesting, it being disturbed, was all. She veered left, feeling all but swallowed by the dark.

  “Kitty, you owe me big time.”

  She inched along until her foot hit something solid, the clank punctuated by a growl and a hiss.

  Puzzled, she hunkered down. “Hey, I would never hurt you.” And reached out blindly, expecting to ruffle some fur. Instead, her fingers met an unexpected resistance, cold and hard. “What the heck…?”

  Leaning forward, she ran her hand along the solid object and murmured reassurances. The cat continued to growl with increasing urgency. The angry-frightened protest raised the hair on the back of her neck even as Josie realized the poor animal was trapped in a cat carrier.

  Who would leave a caged cat in an abandoned building?

  Instinct snapped her upward, but upon rising, she whacked her shoulder into something ungiving. She took a misstep and twisted her ankle.

  “Aah!”

  Arms flailing, Josie tried to catch herself. She imagined hands on her even as she took another blind step. Rough hands. Hands that pushed her so that her boot heel came down hard and shoved right through some rotted boards.

  For a second she felt suspended…her world turned upside down…a roller-coaster ride…only this time with no safety net….

  Chapter Two

  Josie fought the panic attack that threatened to engulf her. Shaking…lack of breath…heart threatening to pound right out of her chest.

  She hadn’t fallen far, she told herself as rationally as she could—only to the rotting floor—but her boot had gone through the boards, ankle-deep. She tried to free herself. But no matter how she turned or twisted her foot, she couldn’t seem to manage it.

  She was stuck!

  Gasping for air, ribs and chest hurting where the seat belt had constrained her, she told herself to calm down. She was all right. She could get
through this.

  Unless…

  Ghost memories of hands on her, touching her, pushing her, jumped back at her in a flash.

  But had it really even happened?

  She couldn’t say for certain. She only knew that same sensation of personal violation had invaded the deep unconscious from which she’d thought she would never awaken while in the hospital. That same sense of physical unease had pressed down on her then, too.

  The same paranoia.

  Josie willed herself to focus on any lurking danger, but she could no more see a threat in the dark than she could her own fingernails, which were digging painful little ditches in her palms.

  Through fear-stiff lips she whispered, “Is someone there?”

  Every muscle in her body tightened into knots as she waited for a response.

  “Meow.”

  She jumped. The cat! She’d almost forgotten….

  “Yes, kitty, I’m still here.”

  But was she the only one?

  No noise alerted her to another presence. No sudden intake of breath. No stirring of foot against rubble. And the cat’s call had once more sounded pitiful rather than angry.

  If any threat had been present a moment ago, surely now it was gone.

  Not wanting to think too deeply on it, she muttered, “Give me a minute, kitty, and I’ll get us both out of here.” And willed her hands to unclench.

  Panic receding, Josie carefully slid her bottom forward over creaking boards and hunched up as close to her foot as her aching middle would allow. Blindly, she felt for the problem. Ragged wood had gashed and caught the worn leather of her boot and held it fast in several places.

  Concentrating on working herself free, Josie almost missed the import of several quiet footfalls coming at her.

  Then her hands stiffened again and sweat popped down her spine. A wave of intense heat poured through her as she literally ripped at the wooden slivers trapping her boot. Carefully, she wiggled her foot and pulled…even as a bright light suddenly blinded her more effectively than had the dark.

  “What are you up to?” came an arrogant male demand.

  Freed at last, avoiding looking directly into the beam, Josie put out a hand to shade her eyes. All she could fathom was a dark silhouette against the bright light. Her impression was of a tall man, one broader than most. She cautiously rose, careful not to step back into trouble.