“Can’t complain. I’m nearly done for the day. Nothing brings a twinkle to my eye quite like picking a lock,” Paisley added with a smile.
She sat beside Gideon. Right beside him without any of the hesitation a young, unmarried woman would usually have cozying up to a young, unmarried man. Yes, there was definitely something more there than friendship.
Gideon looked more closely at her. “How is everything at home?”
Her expression instantly grew more solemn. “A little better of late. It’s hard not to get my hopes up.”
Gideon nodded even as he sighed. What was happening in Paisley’s home? Something serious, it seemed.
The two didn’t dwell on the topic long enough for Cade to gather any clues. “That’s quite a few cherries.” Gideon motioned to her open-topped box. “Making a pie or something?”
“You’ve had my pie, Gideon. Are you really hoping the answer to that question is ‘yes’?”
Gideon grinned. “Definitely not.”
“You don’t bake, then?” Cade pressed.
“Do you?” she tossed back.
“Some.”
“I’m no gourmet, but I can cook a few things. I guess that’s another tally mark for me.” She tapped her fingers on the top of the box. “I’m winning, you know.”
“Are you?”
Her pert little mouth twitched upward on one side. “Yes, I am.”
“She is,” Gideon said.
“You’ve seen the tallies?”
“Seen them?” Paisley scoffed. “He’s added marks. For me.”
Cade eyed Gideon. “So, you’re a dirty-double crosser, then?”
“Can I help it if I’m such a likable fellow that I make friends on both sides of any argument?” Gideon straightened his cuffs. “It’s a curse.”
“I can think of a few curses myself,” Cade muttered.
“I have a Ribbon Emporium to lock up for the night.” Paisley stood and shifted her box to her other arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cade.”
“You’re coming to see if Thackery is likely to best you in this competition?” he asked.
Her smile broadened, her eyes dancing anew. “To see if he’s likely to best you.” With that parting shot, she walked away.
Lands, but he enjoyed quarreling with her.
“Is that something people in Savage Wells do?” Cade asked Gideon. “Keep score?”
“No, my friend. I believe that is something women do.”
Cade looked out over the darkening horizon. The sun had dipped behind the distant mountains. A person didn’t see sunsets in the city to rival any out West. Cade wasn’t ever going back. Even with its tendency toward lawlessness and the uncertainty of new towns in untried places, the West was home to him.
“I should call it a night myself.” He ambled in the direction of the hotel where he’d be staying until the contest was over. He paused across the street from the jailhouse, watching Paisley through the front windows. She could be prickly as a porcupine, but there were moments…
He shook off the thought before it fully formed.
His hand tingled with the remembered warmth of touching hers earlier that afternoon. He’d meant it as nothing more than a bit of banter. But he’d nearly pulled her into his arms. Nearly held her close to him. He’d nearly kissed her.
“Careful, Cade O’Brien. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” he said to himself.
Cade sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging down. A sudden storm had broken not long after he’d crawled into bed. Flashes of lightning lit his room. Crashes of thunder shook the windows. He pushed out one tense breath after another. The breaking of a storm never failed to dredge up memories of battle.
He knew the sights and sounds were nothing but the storm. He wasn’t actually afraid. His was a battle with memories and regrets. He rubbed at his temples, flinching when a clap of thunder shook the room.
The sound of men shouting frantic orders filled his mind. Screams of pain. Saints, he could still smell the gunpowder, the blood. So much blood.
He stood, pacing around the room. Tension twisted inside him. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Another flash lit the curtains. Cade took a calming breath. He knew some former soldiers who went into a panic during storms or at the sight of a uniform. He wasn’t in such a shambles, himself, but he still didn’t enjoy the memories.
He’d endured his share of thunderstorms over the past decade. But he’d sat through them in violent towns. The claps of thunder had been joined by gunshots. The drunken shouts from the streets had nearly drowned out the remembered groans of death and suffering in his mind.
A few more circuits around the room and a few more breaths calmed him. Between the crashes of thunder, all was silent. Still. Peaceful. Not only was the war over, his years of gunning down an endless stream of criminals was as well. Life was going to be far less brutal now.
He was on the cusp of claiming the perfect way of living out his life. He could make a difference, keep the peace, and use his skills, all without needing to live every moment with his hand hovering over his weapon. He could be a sheriff without also being a killer.
Cade stood at the open door of the jailhouse. The morning was a quiet one after the stormy night that had passed. Blessedly quiet.
A woman walked by, holding the hand of a little boy. Cade tipped his hat. She offered a good morning. Her son watched him, turning his head as they continued down the walk. Cade hooked a thumb over his gun belt and gave the lad a friendly wink. He received a wide-eyed look of excitement in return.
He stepped out to the edge of the overhang, resting his shoulder against the front post. Paisley made her way over from the millinery shop. Her thick, dark hair, fine features, and slim figure would be enough to catch any man’s eye. But it was more than that with her. She snatched his entire attention every time. It frustrated him to no end. No woman had ever captivated him the way she did.
Cade shook off the spell she cast even from across the street. It was Thackery’s day as sheriff, and Cade meant to see how the man went about it. Rice had done well enough two days earlier, though not much had happened.
Paisley stepped up onto the porch and leaned against the opposite post. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
She motioned to him, then out at the street. “Taking over for another sheriff.”
“I’m just keeping an eye on things is all.” He adjusted his hat. “I’m letting Thackery run things, just as I let you run things. I keep my promises, Paisley Bell.”
“Promises are like smoke,” she tossed back. “Easy to produce and quickly waved away.”
“I’m a man of m’ word.”
“I’ve known a few ‘men of their word’ in my life,” she said. “The only thing they taught me was never to take anyone at his word.”
Now that was a telling revelation. “There’s a story behind that.”
She turned away from him. “You don’t know what it’s like to keep a town safe only to have them all look at you askance for being different.”
How little she understood. “You’ve not been at this long enough.” He crossed to where she stood. “In this job, you’re always a bit different. You’re the hard one, the cold one. You’re the wall between the citizens and the criminals, and that’s often a lonely position to be in.”
“So why do we keep doing it?”
He’d asked himself that very question off and on for nearly a decade. “Because they need us. And neither of us are the sort to turn our backs on people in need.” He moved toward the jailhouse door.
“They need us, but they keep us at arm’s length.” She followed on his heels. “Painfully ironic, isn’t it?”
She’d dredged up a topic he generally kept buried. “It is what it is, Paisley. Either learn to
live with it or search out a new line of work.”
He nodded to Thackery seated at the desk, then made his way to a tall stool near the back. Paisley did the same.
“You couldn’t allow even one moment of agreement between us?” Very little amusement touched her scolding tone.
He glanced at her and allowed the smallest of smiles. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“We might as well have fun while we’re trying to beat each other out for this job, is that it?”
That was about what it had come to. “We’re friendly enemies.”
Something in that didn’t sit well with her at all. Contemplation pulled at her features, and not a happy sort either. Paisley Bell was as puzzling as she was stubborn.
A young girl rushed into the building. “Help! Help!”
For such a quiet town, this sort of thing seemed rather common.
Cade, Paisley, and Thackery all jumped up and asked her in unison what the matter was. The poor girl’s confusion only added to her panic. If ever there was evidence that the council’s trial period was an idiotic notion, this was it.
After only a moment, she crossed directly to him. Paisley frowned, but Cade was used to people pegging him as the one in charge. “What’s the trouble?”
“He’s stuck in the tree,” the girl said.
Cade hunched down in front of her. “Who’s stuck in a tree?”
“Rupert.”
“Is Rupert a person or an animal?” Before Savage Wells that hadn’t been a necessary question.
“He’s my brother.” The worry on her freckled face couldn’t be mistaken. “He climbed up there, and he can’t come back down. Will you help him, please?”
“Of course, sweetie.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “We’ll all help you. Mr. Thackery, here, is our sheriff today. He’ll lead the way.”
“Oh, please hurry.” She tugged Cade toward the door.
Cade motioned for Thackery to step out ahead of them. Rice was just then stepping up onto the porch.
“Are we headed somewhere?” he asked.
“We’re on a rescue mission,” Thackery said.
Thackery was the quietest of them all, but it was good to see he could take charge when need be.
“What’s your name?” Cade asked his young guide as she pulled him forward.
“Jenny Fletcher.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Fletcher. I’m Sheriff O’Brien.” That was likely a little presumptuous, but it was habit. And it might set her mind at ease to feel she’d made an ally of a sheriff.
She kept the pace swift. “Can you climb a tree, Sheriff O’Brien?”
“I haven’t in some time.”
She dropped his hand and looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Well, what good are you, then?”
“I’ll sort this out. Just give me a chance.”
She looked unconvinced. “I suppose. But you gotta help Rupert.”
“We will.”
Every child in the school must’ve been standing about when Jenny pulled Cade into the yard.
“Now, where’s this brother of yours?” he asked Jenny.
She pointed at the tallest tree he’d seen in that part of Wyoming Territory. Rupert didn’t do things halfway.
He looked to Thackery. “What’s the plan?”
“I’ll talk with the teacher,” Thackery said. “She’ll likely know what happened. And I’ll ask her to keep the children inside. Having them roaming about will make this more complicated.”
It wasn’t a bad plan. Cade positioned himself at the trunk, glancing up. He recognized the woman standing at the base of the tree; he had nodded to her and her boy outside the jailhouse earlier. She wrung her hands, her eyes not leaving the branches above.
“Rupert’s your little one, then?” Cade asked.
She nodded. “I can’t even say how he got up so far. He’s never climbed so high before.”
Cade could hardly make him out, the boy was so far out of reach. High as he was, Rupert might not be sitting on the sturdiest of limbs. Getting to him without adding to the danger would be tricky at best.
“How are we ever to get him down?” Mrs. Fletcher’s voice held a note of panic.
“Don’t fret, ma’am. We’ll manage the thing.” Just how, Cade couldn’t say. It wouldn’t be an easy climb.
His gaze fell on Paisley, standing among them all. Their eyes met.
“I doubt either of us could make that climb safely,” she said.
Thackery rejoined the group. “Even if we could, it’d be a risk to the boy. What we need is an expert climber, if there is such a thing.”
Cade snapped his fingers. “Andrew Gilbert.”
Paisley nodded immediately. “Of course.”
Quick as that, she was gone. Cade turned to Thackery. “We should also send for Dr. MacNamara.”
Thackery pointed at Rice. “Go fetch Doc.”
Rice nodded his understanding and left with haste.
“You think we’ll need the doctor?” Mrs. Fletcher’s voice was hardly audible.
“Rupert might’ve scratched himself or something, that’s all.” Cade sincerely hoped they weren’t faced with anything more serious than that.
“Sit tight, Rupert,” Cade called up into the branches. “We’ll have you down quicker’n a cat with her tail on fire.”
“Yes, sir,” a tiny voice echoed down to him.
“I should have been watching more closely,” Mrs. Fletcher said, her palm pressed to her heart. “I should have.”
“It’s nothing too different than the mischief every child gets into,” Cade said. “Some more than others.”
A moment of wearied amusement crossed her features. “Rupert is always getting himself into scrapes.”
“Reminds me of another young boy whose mother swore each day he’d be the death of her.”
“Was that young boy you?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“Indeed.” Cade took a slow walk around the thick tree trunk. The lowest branches looked sturdy. He could only hope that held true up higher. A few onlookers had drawn near. Thackery sent them scattering with a quick command. That was wise. It’d be dangerous for anyone to spook the boy before Andrew arrived.
Mrs. Fletcher pushed out a deep, tense breath. “I don’t think I’ll even breathe until he’s back on solid ground.”
Thackery stepped in. “I’ve heard from Miss Bell that Andrew Gilbert is an excellent tree climber. I think we can count on him to help us out.”
Mrs. Fletcher didn’t look convinced. “Yes, but Andrew is—” Her gaze dropped as she thought through whatever it was she meant to say. “Andrew is Andrew,” she finally settled on.
What does that mean?
Rice arrived with Gideon at his side. They moved directly to Cade.
“Rupert?” Gideon asked.
Cade pointed up into the branches. “Nearly to the very top of the tree.”
“Let’s hope he keeps still. That’s a long fall for such a little body.”
Paisley returned. Alone.
“Where’s Andrew?” Thackery asked.
Paisley pointed a thumb over her shoulder. Sure enough, Andrew stood at least twenty feet off. He eyed the scene with thick wariness.
“Andrew,” Thackery called out. “We need your help.”
The entire group turned toward Andrew, watching, waiting.
“Come on, then.” Rice waved him over. “Look lively.”
Andrew didn’t take a single step.
“He won’t come,” Paisley said.
“You explained the situation to him?” Thackery asked.
“Of course. He is waiting on the two of you,” she said, pointing to Rice and Thackery.
“Waiting on us to do what?” Thackery asked.
“B
ack away. He doesn’t like strangers.”
“But only the two of us?” Thackery pressed. “Not O’Brien?”
Paisley shook her head. “He trusts Cade.”
Now everyone was watching him. “Do what needs to be done to get Andrew over here and up that tree.”
Thackery, to his credit, hesitated only a moment. “Rice, you stand outside the schoolhouse and make sure none of the children come darting out. Miss Bell, would you stand friend to Mrs. Fletcher? This day’s work likely has her tied in knots.”
Paisley guided Mrs. Fletcher and Jenny away from the tree. Gideon had already stepped back.
Only Cade remained at the tree. One, slow step at a time, Andrew drew nearer. His eyes darted about. Voices sounded from across the street. Andrew stopped in his tracks.
A piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Andrew doesn’t like to be around people,” Cade said.
Paisley was near enough to overhear. “He can’t be around people,” she corrected.
“He’s not dangerous, is he?” Cade’d been greeted with a shotgun the first time they’d met, after all.
“No, he’s not dangerous.” Paisley offered Andrew an encouraging smile.
Cade kept as quiet as Andrew. The man finally reached the tree and looked up into the branches.
“He’s up high,” Andrew said.
“Higher than any of us can climb,” Cade answered. “Can you?”
He nodded firmly. After one more study of the tree, Andrew turned to Cade. “Any premonitions?”
“Only good ones.”
That seemed enough. Andrew pulled off his jacket, folded it carefully, and laid it on the ground. He walked one-quarter of the way around the tree then pulled himself up onto the lowest branch. After that, he moved so swiftly Cade could hardly follow his progress.
Gideon came and stood beside Cade. Thackery stayed several paces away and motioned for Rice to do the same. Cade held his breath. Getting to Rupert was the easy part. Getting him down was another story.
“Will being near Rupert be a problem for Andrew?” Cade asked Gideon.
“He is happiest in the trees. Rupert will be back on the ground in no time, but Andrew might not come all the way down for a while.”
The Sheriffs of Savage Wells Page 7
