Lightning and Lawmen

by Shanna Hatfield

  Oliver sat on his back legs and rubbed his paws over his face then made a chittering sound, as though he wanted her to pay attention.

  Delilah sat back and smiled at him. “Oliver, what brings you by today?” she asked watching as the raccoon took a few tentative steps closer. He sat and watched her several moments then edged a few feet her direction.

  When he was only a yard away from her, Delilah held perfectly still. She certainly didn’t relish a bite from his sharp little teeth, but she didn’t want to spook Oliver, either.

  In spite of her father telling her he ought to shoot the beast just in case he carried rabies, Delilah couldn’t bear the thought of it. Not when Oliver looked so adorable with his masked face and ringed tail. His front paws were so perfectly, elaborately formed. Other than the lack of a thumb, his fingers almost looked human, especially when he used his hands to pick up items with ease and agility.

  Delilah bent back to work, but kept one eye on Oliver. He wandered around the yard, sniffed the soil she’d recently churned, then moved until he stood so close she could have reached out to pet him.

  She pretended not to notice him until he made another chittering noise and sat on his back legs.

  “What is it you want, Oliver? I have no food to give you today because I fear you’re getting greedy. Papa was most likely correct in saying I should never have fed you at all. You’re welcome to stay in the yard, but no begging.”

  The raccoon made another noise then dropped back onto all fours and continued his investigation of the yard. Suddenly, he pawed in the dirt and devoured three pink earthworms. She watched as he chased down a little frog and ate it with relish. When he finished, he licked his paws and stared at her.

  “Satisfied now?” she asked, shaking her head at the raccoon.

  “Not in the least,” a deep voice said.

  A squeak of surprise burst out of her as she whipped her head around and stared at a man’s face just visible over the top of the fence. “Deputy Durfey! You scared me half to death.”

  “Well, I’m happy it wasn’t the whole way,” he teased, moving around to the gate. “May I come in?”

  “I suppose so,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to see Oliver scampering up a tree in the corner of the yard.

  “Making new friends?” Dugan asked as he stepped into the yard and walked over to where she brushed the dirt from her hands and struggled to get to her feet. The hem of her old calico dress caught beneath her and nearly pitched her headlong into the flower bed.

  The deputy grabbed her upper arms and pulled her upright before she fell into the recently spaded soil.

  “Steady,” he said in a low, husky voice that made her insides feel as solid as runny porridge. Rather than release her, he continued to hold her arms and took a step closer.

  His amazing long eyelashes drew her gaze to his eyes. The fascinating orbs sparkled with humor and life. Truly, Dugan possessed the most gorgeous eyes of any man she’d seen. Certainly, she’d never admired any at this proximity.

  She noticed a tiny scar that ran through his left eyebrow and a mole the size of a pin head on his left cheek. Delilah drew in a breath, inhaling the scents of sunshine, leather, and horses clinging to him. It appeared the deputy had either misplaced his razor or hadn’t taken time to shave for several days since a rakish growth of dark stubble covered his face. Rather than make him look unkempt, it accented his delectable bottom lip. Thoughts of kissing it, tasting it, sliced through her mind and made her antsy.

  “Did something bring you here today or did you drop by with the sole purpose of tormenting me?” she asked, drawing away from him and taking a step back.

  Dugan shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides. “I heard you talking to someone and then the raccoon answered. You really should be careful. I’d hate for you to get bit by one that’s rabid.”

  “I’m being careful and I don’t think Oliver is diseased.” Nervous, she wiped her hands on the apron she wore over her dress.

  The corner of Dugan’s mouth kicked up in a grin. “Oliver, is it? You named that prowling little devil Oliver?”

  “He’s not a devil and Oliver seemed an appropriate name.”

  “How so?” he questioned, giving her a probing look that made her fight back a shiver.

  Desperate for a distraction, she picked up her trowel and toyed with it. “Because of Oliver Twist. I’ve heard raccoons have a bad habit of stealing, even right out of your pockets if you let them, like the pickpockets in the story.”

  “That’s true enough, but I do wish you’d be careful.” The look he gave her held concern. “Rabies is one of the most awful ways you could imagine to die.”

  Delilah knew from Seth that he and Dugan had both been there when the prisoner died. He hadn’t gone into details, but she’d gathered from what he hadn’t said the man’s death had been horrific.

  “I promise to keep an eye on him and be careful.” She dropped the trowel back in the dirt and looked at Dugan. His shoulders seemed even broader with the afternoon sun backlighting him. He was… magnificent.

  And that was all the more reason for her to make sure he stayed an arm’s length, or ten, away.

  Dugan didn’t seem to notice her continued perusal of his anatomy. “You’ve accomplished a lot back here.” He motioned to the spot where she’d been digging. “Are you planning to put in a bunch of flowers?”

  “Yes. The design is drawn out and the plants ordered. I want the flower beds to be ready as soon as they arrive next week. By then I hope all danger of frost will be past.” Delilah motioned for Dugan to follow her over to the two chairs she’d hauled out to the back porch. “Would you care for some refreshment, Deputy?”

  “No, thank you,” he said, waiting for her to take a seat before he folded himself onto the too-small chair. “So, you’ve got quite a knack for plants and flowers?”

  “I learned to care for them in order to follow my true passion,” she said, absently brushing dirt from her apron.

  “And what might that be?” Dugan asked, clearly interested in her answer.

  “Ornithology. It’s the study of…”

  “Birds,” Dugan interjected then grinned at her. “I’m not nearly as dumb as I look.”

  Delilah somehow kept her mouth from dropping open in surprise that Dugan actually knew what ornithology was. As to the rest of his statement, dumb was not a word she’d ever use to describe his appearance. Intriguing, masculine, rugged, fascinating — definitely. But not dumb.

  “Most people are unfamiliar with that particular field of study,” she said.

  “I’m not like most people.” He winked at her then waved a hand around the backyard space. “Your plan is to create a haven for birds?”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  A frown etched across his brow. “And you’re encouraging the raccoon to loiter here?”

  “He’s not loitering and I’ve only fed him a few times.”

  Dugan rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know raccoons eat birds?”

  Her mouth dropped open in astonishment and she rocked back in the chair. “Gracious! I did know that, but I’ve allowed my interest in befriending Oliver to overshadow the facts. Oh, this won’t do. Not at all.”

  “Well, let’s just see if he comes back. Maybe he’ll find somewhere else to come begging for food and chasing frogs.”

  She shot him an accusing glare. “How long, exactly, were you peering over the fence like a peeping scoundrel?”

  Dugan stiffened. “I wasn’t peeping or peering. I glanced over to see whom you were speaking to and all I could see was that ball of fur. If you think you could curb your insulting comments, I might even tell you a story about a raccoon.”

  “I wasn’t being insulting,” she said, feigning a pout. “Will you please tell the story?”

  “I will, since you asked nicely.” Dugan cleared his throat as he leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and crossed one ankle over the other. “I heard this story from a
n old Indian I met back when I first started working for the sheriff. According to the legend he shared, Raccoon once had a beautiful silver coat. One day, Raccoon stopped at Raven’s house and saw Raven had five shiny silver rings he carefully hid inside a trunk. Raccoon went on his way, but that night, he put a mask over his face, lit a torch he carried beneath his chin and snuck off to Raven’s house, hoping to frighten him so badly he could steal the rings. He stood outside Raven’s window, making eerie sounds and holding that torch, getting soot all over his paws, waiting for Raven to be so scared he’d run off.”

  “What happened,” Delilah asked, learning forward in her chair, engrossed in the story.

  “Wouldn’t you know it, but Raven got hopping mad. He rushed outside fit to be tied, so Raccoon ran to the woods and hid in a tree. Raven rushed by and scoured the deep woods, trying to find him. While Raven searched, Raccoon scurried back to Raven’s house and took the rings from the trunk. He couldn’t leave the torch, but he needed both hands to carry it, so he slipped the rings on his tail and hurried home. Raven returned and realized the rings were missing. The next morning, Raven started asking everyone if they’d seen his rings. He went to Raccoon’s house and asked if he knew anything about the missing rings. Raccoon assured him he didn’t. Raven was about to leave when he noticed five tarnished ring marks on Raccoon’s tail where he’d carried the rings and the soot still on his paws from the torch.”

  Dugan stopped and grinned at Delilah.

  “What did Raven do?” she asked, eager to hear the ending.

  “Ol’ Raven, well he was about ready to chew up tacks and spit out railroad spikes, he was that mad at Raccoon. He waved a dark wing at him and said, ‘From now on, your face will show the mask of a thief, your hands will remain blackened by the soot of your poor choices, and your tail will always be tarnished by your thieving ways.’ And it was so.”

  Delilah sat back in her chair and smiled at him. “That was a wonderful story. I’ll have to be mindful of not leaving anything out that Oliver might steal.”

  “Raccoons like shiny stuff particularly well,” Dugan said, rising to his feet. “I best be on my way, Miss Robbins. When your plants arrive, if you need help with them, you be sure and let me know. I can help haul them or dig holes, although that’s about the extent of my abilities with flowers.”

  “Thank you for that offer, Deputy, and for the story.” Delilah walked with him over to the gate in the fence. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

  “I plan to, Miss Robbins,” he said, tipping his hat to her then continuing in his long-legged gait down the street toward the heart of town.

  Delilah stepped out of the yard and watched him until he turned a corner a few blocks down and disappeared from view.

  “Like what you see?” a voice spoke from behind her, making her jump.

  She whirled around and clutched a hand to her rapidly beating heart. “Papa! Don’t you sneak up on me like that!”

  Ross chuckled. He stepped through the open gate and into the backyard. “I made plenty of noise walking up behind you, but you seemed otherwise occupied. Perhaps I shouldn’t yet give up all hope of having grandchildren someday.”

  Delilah scowled at him and flounced up the porch steps. “Nothing has changed from the last time you suggested the possibility of me losing my mind and deciding to wed. It’s never going to happen, Papa. Not ever.”

  Ross laughed and draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “Oh, Lila. Never say never.”

  Chapter Nine

  “These muffins are sure tasty,” Seth said as he helped himself to another from the basket Dugan had set on the edge of his desk.

  He’d stopped at the bakery on his way to the office that morning. When he opened the door and stepped inside, the smell of coffee greeted him, making his stomach growl. Seth grinned at him and poured a cup of the hot brew then they each took a muffin.

  “You want to make the first round today, or shall I go?” Dugan asked as he drained his coffee cup. Tully had gone to Pendleton for a meeting attended by several lawmen in the region, leaving Dugan and Seth to split his duties until he returned in a few days.

  Dugan didn’t mind, since it meant he and Seth got to work together. He rinsed his cup and left it on the shelf above the stove when the door banged open and a miner rushed inside.

  “Where’s the sheriff?” the man asked as his gaze scanned over the office.

  “He’s out of town today. What can we help you with?” Dugan asked, recognizing the man as one who worked for Clive Fisher, Brianna Barrett’s mine partner.

  “Someone tried to rob Clive last night. He got off a few shots, before one grazed his arm,” the miner looked from Dugan to Seth. “He sent me to fetch Tully to come up to the mine and see if he can figure out who was prowling around.”

  “I’ll go,” Dugan said, glancing at Seth. His friend nodded at him in agreement. “Is Clive at Doc’s office?”

  “Nah. He had me pour a little firewater over the wound and bandage it,” the miner said, following Dugan outside.

  Dugan grinned at the miner. “I bet Clive hated to waste his whiskey that way.”

  The miner chuckled. “That is a fact.” The man patted his vest pocket and took out a list. “He told me I might as well bring up a load of supplies when I come back.”

  “That’s fine, Tom. I’ll head on out there right now.” Dugan jogged home and saddled Barton then made his way through town. As he rode past the train depot, his jaw tightened when he noticed Ross Robbins boarding the eastbound train. If the man was boarding that most likely meant Delilah was already seated on the train. He strained to see in the windows, to get a final glimpse of her, but couldn’t find her among the car loaded with passengers.

  Had Ross and Delilah given up on Baker City already? He couldn’t blame them if they left, but he sure didn’t want Delilah to go. The thought of never seeing her again made his heart clench in pain.

  By the time he reached Clive’s mine, he’d worked himself into a peeved, troubled state. Even if Delilah showed no romantic interest in him, he thought they’d become friends during the month she’d lived in Baker City. He’d even helped her last week when she’d been determined to get the flowers, bushes, and shrubs that had arrived planted before it rained.

  The sky had been as clear as a bell, but she enlisted his help, along with that of her father and Sammy Barrett to get the plants in the ground as quickly as she could. Dugan had teased her about her panic that it might rain when the sun was shining brightly overhead. Sure enough, though, they were just finishing when big, fat drops began to fall. By the time they all made it to the porch, rain poured down at a steady clip.

  Dugan swung off Barton outside Clive’s newly constructed cabin and left the horse tied to a post before he walked over and pounded on the door.

  “Clive!” he barked. “Are you in there? It’s Dugan Durfey.” He pounded again. “Clive! Open this dang door.”

  “Keep yer britches on, ya impatient upstart,” Clive groused as he yanked open the door and glared at Dugan. “Took ya long enough to get here. What’d ya do, walk?”

  Dugan scowled at him and stepped inside. Clive had come a long way from the derelict shack he’d called home in until Brianna insisted he have a decent place to live. She insisted he keep it clean enough she’d set foot inside it when she came up to the mine. Clive grumbled about it the whole time, but everyone knew he was proud of the cabin and the fact the mine he owned with Brianna was one of the top-producing gold mines in the area.

  “You need me to look at that wound?” Dugan said, pointing to the bandage encircling Clive’s arm a few inches above his left elbow.

  “Nah. The bullet barely grazed me. Bled like a stuck pig and hurt like blazes, but I think it’ll be fine.” Clive motioned for Dugan to take a seat at the table. He poured him a cup of coffee and thumped it down in front of him before he sat down across from him.

  “Tell me what happened,” Dugan said, taking a small notebook and pen
cil from his pocket.

  “It was late. The boys had already turned in for the night and I’d been sawing a few logs of my own,” Clive said, then took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know exactly what woke me up, but I just got a feeling things weren’t quite right. I grabbed my pistol and rifle and went out to investigate. I couldn’t see who was out there, just that someone was trying to break into the mine office. I fired a warning shot in the air and the skunk turned around and winged me. So I let a rain of bullets fall on him as he skedaddled. He rode off on a big horse that looked white in the moonlight.”

  Dugan hastily jotted down the information, took two long swigs from the coffee cup in front of him, and then stood. “Mind if I go have a look?”

  “Let’s go,” Clive said, getting to his feet. “I told the boys not to go over there until Tully got here.” Clive gave him a long look. “If yer here and he ain’t, I assume he’s out of town again.”

  “You’d assume correctly,” Dugan said, grinning at Clive as they walked from the cabin across the clearing to the mine office. “He left yesterday for a meeting in Pendleton. He’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

  “Did Brianna and the little one go along?” Clive asked.

  “No. Brianna didn’t want Sammy to miss more school, since she already missed a week last month when they took the trip to the coast.”

  “Sammy done told me all about seeing whales and feeding seals and eating crabs. I wouldn’t want no part of that, but she sure did have a bang-up time.” Clive looked at Dugan. “I’m glad to see that gal getting a little pep back in her step. After her mother passed away last fall, I wasn’t sure she’d ever get back to normal.”

  “It took a little while. Losing her mother was hard on her, but I think it helped a lot for her to have Brianna and Tully to turn to.”

  They reached the mine office. Dugan looked at the door where someone had clearly tried to pry it open. The wood was splintered near the lock. He studied the ground, noticing tracks in the slightly damp soil outside the office.