Intent on finding the sheriff, she stomped down the street. She rounded a corner and spied the insufferable man speaking to Mr. Miller of the mercantile.
Tully Barrett laughed at something Frank Miller said. Dimples filled his cheeks and Brianna couldn’t help but notice his engaging smile. It appeared he wasn’t rude to everyone, or more pointedly, was rude only to her. She’d seen him laughing and joking with several people around town in the few days she’d been there. He seemed to reserve all this surly behavior just for her.
Regardless of his demeanor, she intended to take him to task for publicly humiliating her in the misleading report.
“Sheriff Barrett!” she called as she approached him.
As though someone had poured a bucket of ice water down his back, Tully’s entire countenance changed. He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her.
“Good morning, Miss Dumont,” Frank Miller said, escaping inside his store at the enraged look on her face.
“To what do I owe the displeasure of this visit, Miss Dumont?” Tully spied the newspaper in her hand and smirked. “Or should I refer to you as Fred?”
“You intolerable, presumptuous, supercilious cretin! How dare you!” Brianna shook the newspaper in Tully’s face. “Not only is the information in this article incorrect, it is slanderous.”
“I believe you’re the one who said it isn’t slander if it’s true.” Tully’s contemptuous grin nudged her past the boiling point and completely beyond the grasp of reason.
“My name is not Fred. That’s not even close. Had you asked nicely instead of demanding, I would have given it to you in the first place. To clarify, someone stole my bag even though you doubt the truth of it. It is a matter of great importance it be returned. Furthermore, one of the many crooks who reside in this… this… depraved community stole my only pair of shoes!”
“Well…” Tully took a step back and studied her from the tip of the blue plume on her hat to the toes of her new boots barely visible beneath the hem of her exquisite gown. “You must have made it through a whole day without losing any more clothes because it looks like you’ve got your corset, petticoats, and bloomers on today. Maybe I better investigate, just to confirm the fact.” He bent down and started to lift the hem of her skirt.
Outraged, she smacked him across the back with the newspaper. “You are despicable and disgusting.”
When she raised the newspaper to smack him again, Tully grabbed her wrist and fastened an iron cuff around it. Before she could pull away, he latched a cuff onto the other one and turned her around.
“You’re under arrest. Again.”
Brianna attempted to set her feet and refuse to move, but he merely pushed her forward. “You can’t arrest me again when I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Tully took her arm in his hand and marched her into the jail. Seth Harter glanced up from the desk where he sat filling out a report. Taken aback by the sight of a woman in cuffs, he remained silent as Tully directed Brianna back to the cells. A drunk snored in the one farthest from the door and she wrinkled her nose at the smells emanating from him.
Quickly opening the cell nearest the door, Tully pushed her inside then removed the cuffs. After he locked the cell, he glared at her. “You’re under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law, disturbing the peace, and…”
Brianna crossed her arms and sneered at him. “You can’t even think of a third reason to arrest me, can you?”
“Unlawful annoyance.” Tully leaned toward her and pointed a finger toward the drunk. “If you make as much racket as you did the last time, I’ll move you next to his cell and shut the door.”
“Humph!” Brianna turned her back to Tully, but remained silent.
Tully dropped the cell keys on his desk and removed his hat, forking his fingers through his thick brown hair. He lifted his gaze to Seth, mindful of the deputy’s shocked expression.
Not in the mood to discuss what he’d done, he settled his hat back on his head. “Can you keep an eye on things for a while?”
“Sure, boss. Are you really gonna leave Miss Dumont in there?” Seth tipped his head toward the jail cells.
Tully stepped close to the deputy’s desk and dropped his voice. “Let her go as soon as ol’ Boyd wakes up.”
Seth nodded and Tully ambled out the door into the fresh morning sunshine. He hurried through town and out to his property. As he neared the pasture where his horses grazed, he emitted three sharp whistles.
A buckskin horse trotted his direction. Tully easily looped a rope around his neck and led him over to a rail just outside the barn. He saddled Cotton, in need of a ride to clear his head.
A few minutes later, he headed off toward the tree line, anticipating the cooler air and shade provided at the higher elevation.
As he rode, he contemplated where his day had gone so terribly wrong.
He’d started off the morning with his favorite breakfast at the restaurant in town, eating two orders of bacon, three eggs fried the way he liked them, and two fluffy biscuits smothered in fresh strawberry jam. After his second cup of coffee, he made a round through town, visiting with folks he’d known for years and others who were relatively new to the area.
He made a point of stopping by the lumberyard to see if Angus MacGregor needed any help as he watched over operations in Ian’s absence. The affable man told him he had everything under control, but thanked him for his concern. They discussed the fine meal Jemma had served the other evening and laughed over the antics of Lily and Jack as the children showed everyone around the newly finished house after supper.
Tully bid him good day then remembered he had a special order he needed to place with Frank Miller at the mercantile.
If only he hadn’t stood outside talking to Frank a few moments, maybe the troublesome Miss Dumont wouldn’t have found him. Despite her proper appearance, he had the idea she was like a dog with a bone once she set her mind to something.
For whatever reason, she’d set her mind on disliking him. Thoroughly and completely.
The feeling was definitely mutual.
If he hadn’t loathed her so entirely, he would have admired the sunlight streaming through the light brown curls around her face. And the way her blue jacket and skirt, edged in dark blue stitching and beads, made him think of periwinkle flowers. A blouse of thick creamy lace called his attention to her graceful neck before it dipped behind a waistcoat constructed of the same blue fabric as her dress.
The bright blue gloves on her hands stood out in stark contrast to the cuffs he’d wrapped around her delicate wrists.
The slightest possibility existed that he’d overreacted to her slapping him with the newspaper. In all fairness, he deserved it for telling Bowen Packwood at the newspaper office her name was Fred. Bowen was aware it was all in fun, but printed the article anyway.
Tully knew if Miss Dumont caught wind of the article, she’d be fit to be tied, but something in him wanted to rile her.
Disturbed by his continual need to provoke her, Tully couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it. He kept the peace, not stirred up trouble. Over the years, he’d played plenty of jokes on his friends, but it was harmless and taken in the vein it was intended.
Miss Dumont brought out the worst in him and Tully didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Thane had taken him to task for locking her up the other day, especially in light of her injured foot. Guilt pricked at him for not noticing her wound. He hadn’t given her the opportunity to say anything, plugging his ears and ignoring her the entire time she’d been in the jail until Thane and Lily arrived. If it wasn’t for the little girl pointing out Miss Dumont’s blood on the floor, Tully might have left her suffering in the cell the rest of the day.
The crazy woman hadn’t sat down the entire time she’d been in there, refusing to dirty her dress in his filthy prison, as she called it. His cells were among the cleanest anywhere because Tully wasn’t keen on the idea of any vermin creeping over to his desk an
d taking up residence on him. He hired someone to clean the cells every week.
Nevertheless, his conscience nagged him about treating a woman so disrespectfully. It wasn’t like him to do such a thing.
To make amends, he’d paid her doctor bill and had the cobbler send him the bill for her new shoes. Yet, he’d turned right around and told Bowen to call her Fred.
Although he wouldn’t admit it to her, he’d discovered her name was Brianna shortly after her arrival in town.
Once the wedding reception ended, Tully went to the depot and questioned the ticket agent at length, learning Brianna Dumont arrived from Warwick, Rhode Island. She didn’t purchase a return ticket and had queried the ticket agent about the most prosperous mines in the area and lodging options. She’d set down her bag to dig a coin out of her reticule to pay him for keeping an eye on her trunk. It was in that moment that someone made off with her bag.
Tully grinned, recalling how incensed she’d been when he’d teased her about her corsets.
Truthfully, thoughts of her corsets made him wonder what she’d look like under all the prim and proper attire she wore.
The moment he’d laid eyes on her, he knew she wasn’t the type of woman to set foot in the Gilded Spur. He’d made that offhanded comment about her working there just to watch the sparks ignite in her summer-sky eyes.
The more she reacted to his teasing, the stronger he felt the need to prod her. The way her eyes flamed with anger and she rebelliously raised that proud chin only egged him on.
Since she’d set foot in town, his world had shifted out of balance.
No matter what story she tried to sell him, he knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth about what was in her bag or her reasons for being in Baker City.
If he could keep his head on straight around her for more than five minutes, he planned to find out what really brought her to town.
Chapter Five
Determined to ride out to Clive Fisher’s mine, Brianna donned her fullest skirt and retrieved a pair of thick leather gloves from her trunk. If the mine was as successful as she imagined, there might even be a grand house located at such a prosperous enterprise. No doubt, Mrs. Fisher would invite her to stay with them for the duration of her visit in the area.
With no idea how long it would take to reach the mine, she concluded she might need something to eat before she returned to Baker City. A biscuit she’d saved from breakfast and wrapped in a clean napkin tucked easily into the pocket of her skirt.
Before she changed her mind or let her fears hold her back, she marched to the livery Mr. Isaac said had the best horses in town. Thus far, his information had proved most helpful.
After paying to rent a horse for the day, Brianna asked if they had a sidesaddle she could borrow.
Milt Owens, owner of the livery, stared at her so long, Brianna thought perhaps something was grievously wrong. Finally he spoke, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder toward the tack room. “I’d feel better about putting a western saddle on the horse for you.”
“I assure you, sir, I’ve been riding sidesaddle for nearly as long as I have walked. In fact, I earned the women’s championship title for horsemanship at my father’s club three years running.”
“But, Miss Dumont, the terrain around here isn’t what you might be accustomed to. There are rocks and sagebrush and rattlesnakes not to mention badger holes and…”
“I’ll be fine, Mr. Owens.”
He disappeared inside a room and returned with a sidesaddle. Although it was far from new, it looked to be of good quality.
Without saying a word, he saddled the horse then led it outside into the bright June sunshine. “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather have a regular western saddle, Miss Dumont? It would just take me a minute to switch saddles.”
“No. I prefer to ride this way. I do thank you for accommodating my request,” she said, giving the man what she hoped was a sweet smile.
He cracked a grin and held out his linked hands for her to use as a step in mounting the horse. Once she settled her skirts around her, she smiled at him again. “Do you know how to find Clive Fisher’s mine?”
Milt raised both eyebrows so high they nearly meshed with his hairline. “What does a nice lady like you want with a crotchety ol’ coot like him?”
“He and my father are partners in a mine. I came to Baker City to check on our investments.”
The man blew out a long breath then walked around the horse and pointed toward the distant mountains. “See that little ribbon of trail that leads up into the trees?”
“Yes,” Brianna said, straining to see that far into the distance with the sun shining in her face.
“Once you hit the timberline, take the second trail to your left. Ride about two miles and you’ll see a burnt stump. Turn there and you’ll be at Clive’s mine.” Milt looked at her one more time. “Are you sure…”
Brianna held up a hand to stop him. “I’ll be perfectly fine, Mr. Owens, but I do thank you for your concern. Have a pleasant day.”
“I’m sure mine will be better than yours,” he said cryptically, then hurried back inside the livery.
Brianna rode over a few blocks then followed the road that led out of town. At the sedate pace she set, the sun was high overhead when she reached the area where coniferous trees grew on the sloping hillside heading up to the top of the mountain.
Despite Mr. Owens’ fears she might have problems, the road she’d taken was established and she’d ridden without incident.
She’d waved to a few wagons carrying families toward Baker City. Lest any of the men riding into town arrive at any false conclusions about her, she kept her eyes averted as she encountered them in passing.
The temperature dropped as she rode through the trees, although the path became harder to navigate. Holes, tree roots, and dust a foot-thick in some places made her advance at a cautious pace.
Focused on maneuvering around a rather large rut in the road, the hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end. Nervous, she glanced around and sucked in a gulp when a pair of yellow eyes glared at her from beneath a nearby tree.
The animal looked rather like a dog with gray fur on its back, a white belly, and a bushy black-tipped tail. However, the pointed ears and narrow pointed face did not seem doglike or in the least bit friendly, especially when it growled at her.
Brianna screamed, startling the horse. It bolted forward and she had to work to retain her seat on the saddle.
The horse lunged onto a side trail and continued galloping even though Brianna tugged on the reins and pleaded for it to stop.
Unable to control the animal, Brianna held on as it veered off the trail. Tree branches slapped at her face and yanked the hat right off her head.
Panic beat strong in her breast and she swallowed down the fear in her throat threatening to choke her.
With no warning, the horse came to an abrupt halt and Brianna flew off, landing in a creek. The water was so cold it made her sit up and gasp in shock. Before she could scramble to her feet and grab the reins, the horse turned and trotted back the way they’d come.
Alone, frightened, soaked to the skin, and fighting the urge to cry, Brianna ran after the horse in her soggy clothes. Without a way to ride off the mountain, she really would be in trouble.
A few hundred yards later, a catch in her side made her stop and press a hand to her ribs. Whoever invented corsets never tried to chase down a runaway horse wearing one. The combination of the higher elevation, getting tossed off the horse, and an engulfing sense of fear left her lightheaded.
Fainting was not an option, so she closed her eyes a moment to gather her composure.
She made it back to the trail and sighed in relief as a man rode toward her with the livery horse trailing along behind him.
“Miss Dumont?” the man asked as he stopped beside her.
Brianna recognized Thane Jordan and released a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank goodness you found the horse,” she said, accep
ting the reins he held out to her.
He stared at her for a long moment. The corner of his mouth quirked upward, as though he held back a laugh. “Have a little trouble, Miss Dumont?” Thane stepped out of his saddle and helped Brianna mount her horse.
“There was some furry beast with yellow eyes that startled me and I screamed. The horse bolted and dumped me in the creek,” she said, pushing wet hair out of her eyes.
“Probably just a coyote. They’re harmless, for the most part.” Thane mounted and looked over at her. “I don’t know where you found that sidesaddle, but I’m surprised Milt Owens let you put it on one of his horses.”
“Mr. Owens strongly debated the wisdom of me riding astride, but it simply wasn’t a topic I wished to discuss.” Brianna settled her wet skirts around her.
Thane shook his head. “My wife refused to ride astride, but I didn’t leave her any options. Now, she enjoys her western saddle. When Maggie gets back from her honeymoon, go by her shop. She can set you up with some riding skirts that make it much easier for you women to ride.”
Brianna wouldn’t argue with the man who came to her rescue. “I’ll take that information under advisement.”
Thane tipped back his hat and looked at Brianna again. “What are you doing this far up in the hills?”
“My intent was to locate Clive Fisher’s mine. My father invested as a partner in his holdings and I’m here to evaluate the success of that endeavor.” Although the summer heat warmed her, Brianna felt chilled to the bone. She urged the horse forward until it stood in a patch of sunshine. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to find it, would you?”
“I sure would. It’s not too far from one of my mines,” Thane said, turning his horse back in the direction he’d come. “I heard Tully tossed you in the calaboose again.”
“If you mean manhandled me into one of the jail cells without cause, you would be correct. I don’t understand how you can be friends with such a loathsome man as the sheriff.”
Corsets and Cuffs: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 3) Page 5
