The Sheriffs of Savage Wells

by Sarah M. Eden

  “All good arguments,” he acknowledged. “Having spent a lot of time choosing that risk, I can tell you it ain’t something to take lightly.”

  “But I’d be helping people,” she countered. “I keep returning to that. I’d be helping not just the victims of crime in the territory, but also other women who’d like a fair shake at jobs they aren’t usually allowed to hold. And, truth be told, I’ve been dying a little inside having to be a cleaning lady when I know I would have been so blasted good at being a sheriff.”

  “And, though I hate to admit it, you’d be ‘blasted good’ at being a deputy marshal.”

  They stepped up onto the porch of the jailhouse. “Why do you hate admitting it?” He’d never been like so many others who weren’t willing to give her credit.

  “For all the reasons you listed: the danger, the toll it’d take on you and your pa. And”—his expression turned mulish—“you’d be gone all the time.”

  She hid her smile. “You’d miss me?”

  “Not at all.” He let her step inside the jail ahead of him. “It’d be boring being the only sharpshooter in town is all.”

  “Hawk’ll be here.” She motioned to the marshal, who was adding coal to the stove in the corner.

  Cade slipped an arm around her waist from behind and whispered in her ear. “But Hawk ain’t nearly as much fun to kiss, darlin’.”

  “You said it was my shooting you were going to miss,” she whispered back.

  “That, too.” He brushed a kiss to her neck just below her ear before stepping around her and over to the desk.

  Paisley was certain she’d stopped breathing entirely. She stood rooted to the spot, her neck tingling, her face turning hot with a blush. Heavens, she hoped he wasn’t teasing when he said and did things like that. And she desperately hoped he’d do it again.

  Delancey always had a long lunch on Thursdays, and he spent that time at the mercantile. Cade knew more about the man’s schedule than he ever thought he would. The information was critical, however.

  Paisley was positioned down at the hotel. Hawk was at the bank. Cade was in the mercantile watching Abbott and Clark set their trap. They had specific instructions and were following them to the letter.

  Delancey was filling a small paper sack with penny nails. Why did a man who lived in a hotel need nails?

  “It’s on account of you snatching up all of Annabelle’s best eggs,” Abbott told Clark in a voice just loud enough to be overheard by the others. “Sheriff probably thinks our feud is heating up again.”

  “I haven’t been snatching eggs,” Clark shot back. “The sheriff’s probably sniffing around your place since you’re the one who always starts the trouble.”

  Abbott shook his head firmly. “He rode past my place right up the road toward yours. And the marshal was with him. I’m telling you, Clark, all your underhandedness is catching up with you.”

  Cade took his cue and sauntered past Abbott and Clark. They stopped him.

  “Which of us have you been keeping an eye on?” Clark asked. “It’s Abbott, isn’t it?”

  “Not me,” Abbott insisted. “Am I right, Sheriff?”

  Cade hooked his thumbs over his gun belt. “Let’s just say the marshal and I are keeping an eye on things generally up on the north end of town.”

  Clark’s eyes opened wide. The man played his part well. “Is something going on north of town?” he whispered loudly.

  “I ain’t sayin’ a word,” Cade answered firmly.

  He made his way to the counter. He could feel Delancey’s eyes on him. Perfect.

  “What can I get for you, Sheriff?” Mr. Holmes asked.

  Cade slipped his O’Brien six-shooter from his holster and spun it around in his hand. He gave the move all the expert flourish he could. It’d do Delancey good to see how at ease he was with his weapon. He held the pistol up within view.

  “I’m needing more cartridges,” he said. “Especially seeing as they fit m’ rifle as well.”

  Mr. Holmes wasn’t in on the game, but he played right into their hand. “Are you expecting to need them in the near future?”

  Cade gave a vague shrug. “Just being prepared.”

  Mr. Holmes snatched the ammunition from a high shelf and returned to the counter. “Is this on account of the bank deliveries? There’s been some concern among the citizens that we’d begin seeing criminals trickle into town.”

  Well done, Holmes. Abbott and Clark, along with a few others in the mercantile, including Delancey, had stepped closer, waiting for Cade’s answer.

  “Rest easy, men,” he said. “Marshal Hawking has set up headquarters here in Savage Wells, and he and I have our ears to the ground. We’re already seeing to the things we’re hearing.”

  “Then there is something going on?” Clark asked.

  Cade had been very vague about the reason for their playacting. He hadn’t meant to cause the man any worry.

  He assumed his most confident stance. “I’ve earned myself a reputation. Criminals don’t last long in my town. And the marshal has more notches on his gun belt than the James brothers combined. Anyone trying anything in this town’ll be sorry he was ever born.”

  That seemed a good note to end on. He paid Mr. Holmes for the ammunition and strode from the mercantile, letting the clank of his boot heels emphasize his words. He stepped onto the porch and spotted Paisley up in the first-floor window of the hotel, gazing out onto the street. Their eyes met. He gave her a nod. She returned it.

  She set to washing the window, though he knew better. She was acting as lookout.

  Cade continued on to the jail, careful not to give away the ruse. He could trust Paisley to do her job. Hawk was tucked away near the bank, hoping to overhear a conversation between Delancey and his accomplices.

  There was nothing for it but to wait. He stoked the fire in the stove. Wyoming was proving to be as bone-rattlingly cold as he’d been warned. He slung his long leather coat over the back of the desk chair. Mr. Bell was at the Gilberts’ house, enjoying his checkers with Andrew. Mrs. Wilhite wasn’t selling her ribbons today. The jail was quiet.

  In all his weariness with shooting folks, he’d forgotten the thrill of racing the clock. They were a step ahead of Delancey and his men. If they were smart and careful, they just might trip up the criminals. They were so close.

  “That’s the grin of a man who’s terribly pleased with himself.” Paisley stood in the doorway, watching him.

  “Where did Delancey go?” He could feel his excitement growing.

  She chuckled. “You’re enjoying this.”

  “It’s like my birthday’s come early.” It was all he could do to stop himself from crowing. “There ain’t nothing like catching someone at their own nefarious game.”

  “I know the feeling well.” She crossed to the potbellied stove. “Heart pounds. Mind spins. Little bits of the puzzle fall into place, and I swear I can already see the end play out. I don’t dare declare victory, but in my mind I’m shouting in triumph because staying a step ahead of the evil­doers will save innocent people a lot of heartache, might even save lives.”

  She understood. Cade had known that kind of camaraderie in other men, but he had never expected to find it in a woman. She was a treasure.

  “Where did he go after leaving the mercantile?” he asked again.

  She turned toward him but stayed near the warmth of the stove. “Where did who go after leaving what mercantile?”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Don’t push me on this, woman. I’m full dyin’ to know.”

  “Quit being such a grump.”

  “I’m only being a grump because you’re being so difficult.”

  She set her hands on her hips. “You only think I’m being difficult because you’re being so impatient.”

  He stood nearly nose-to-nose with her. He repe
ated his original question, slowly. “Where did he go?”

  The mischievous twinkle in her eye nearly brought his laughter to the surface. Very nearly. The woman was withholding information, after all. “I figure this ought to be worth something.”

  “You’re as bad as Grace O’Malley.”

  Her teasing smile disappeared, and her eyes narrowed. “Who is Grace O’Malley?”

  “She was a pirate,” he muttered back, running a hand down her arm.

  To which she grinned. “I like her already.”

  He wove his fingers through hers. He leaned in and brushed a whisper of a kiss along her hairline. “Well, then?”

  “Well, then, what?” she answered breathlessly.

  “What did Delancey do after leaving the mercantile?”

  “Hmm.”

  Cade inched back. His attentions were distracting them both.

  Paisley seemed to recollect herself. “He lugged the nails and the boards he bought down the walk and met someone at a waiting wagon. They talked for a while. The mystery man drove off—I never did see his face—and Joshua returned to the bank.”

  Building supplies and meetings with strangers. “We may be on to something here. Though I wish I was more certain.”

  “So do I. But we know more than we did a week ago.” The doubts and second-guessing that too often plagued her were nowhere to be seen. “Give us a few more days, and we’ll have this sorted out. I know it.”

  He wrapped his arms around her middle. “I think you enjoy the hunt as much as I do.”

  “I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but I do.” He didn’t know if her blush came from their closeness or from her excitement over tracking down criminals. “The day I brought in the Grantland Gang, it was all I could do not to crow in triumph right in front of them.”

  “You should’ve,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I’d already shot the poor dears. It seemed unsporting to laugh at them too.”

  “How often’ve you been told how beautiful you are?” he asked, drinking in the sight of her bright eyes.

  She fidgeted, not quite meeting his eyes.

  “And smart and witty?” he added.

  Her chin dipped down even as her ears turned red. He knew she struggled to see herself clearly, but embarrassing her wouldn’t help. She’d pull into herself again, protecting herself from the ridicule she feared so much. A bit of laughter would help set her at ease.

  “And stubborn and frustrating?” he added.

  She raised a single eyebrow. Yes, this approach was working much better.

  “As odd as a five-legged dog?”

  “A five-legged dog?” she repeated in shocked tones.

  Her exasperation made him laugh, and his laughter brought out hers.

  “It’s a good thing we’re on the same team, Cade O’Brien.”

  “A very good thing.”

  He cupped her face in his hands, running the pad of his thumb along her cheek. A slow breath eased out of her, even as her eyelids fluttered closed. If ever a woman looked ready for a kiss, she did.

  He slid his arm down her back to wrap around her waist. The warmth of her stole over him. He’d ached to hold her, to kiss her like she deserved to be kissed. He lowered his head, hovering a breath away from her lips, giving her a chance to let him know if she objected. That hesitation proved a moment too long: Hawk strode inside.

  “They didn’t say anything too—” Hawk froze on the spot, watching the two of them.

  Paisley’s eyes flew open, deep red staining her cheeks.

  “Didn’t realize I’d be interrupting,” Hawk said. “Do you two want me to step out again? Give you a moment for some sparkin’?”

  Paisley pulled free of Cade’s embrace and moved swiftly to the desk.

  Cade forced a tense breath. He was too on edge to sit, to even think. He made short circuits back and forth beside the desk.

  “All right, then,” Hawk said, returning to the topic at hand. “Delancey sent his associate off with the supplies and instructions to ‘finish securing things.’”

  “That’s an odd turn of phrase,” Cade said.

  “Suspicious, depending on how you look at the thing,” Hawk said.

  “Securing stacks of money,” Paisley said. “That’s what you figure he meant?”

  Slowly, one breath at a time, Cade forced himself to focus on his job again. Having Paisley in his arms, coming so close to kissing her, hovered in the background, keeping him from remaining entirely calm. She twisted him around in ways no one else did.

  “Nothing either of them said was very specific,” Hawk said. “And none of it was truly incriminating.”

  Paisley’s brow pulled down in thought. “What if we’re following the wrong trail here? What if Joshua isn’t part of this?”

  She’d maintained that she didn’t have feelings for Delancey, but her defense of him made Cade wonder. Was she being blinded by sentiment?

  “I haven’t entirely convicted him in my mind,” Hawk said. “But there’s too much pointing in that direction to ignore.”

  She sighed. “I agree. I just feel like we’re missing something.” She did have a tendency to question herself.

  “We have very little to go on because our criminals are playing it so close to the vest,” Cade said. “But we’re also keeping our eyes and ears open. Our best bet is to figure out when they mean to skim from the delivery. Short of catching them red-handed, they aren’t likely to be convicted.”

  Cade continued thinking on it as he paced.

  Paisley spoke first. “The scam depends on pulling out the money before Lewis counts it. The theft would have to occur straight off. But the thief won’t want to be wandering around with hot money burning through his pockets.”

  She kept saying “the thief” and not “Joshua” when talking about the crime. She clearly wanted to believe the best in her one-time fiancé. Catching him in the act would also help Paisley settle her thoughts on that matter.

  “We didn’t find any money in his room,” Cade said. “The trick’ll be figuring out where they mean to hide the money this time around.”

  “We’ll have to make that decision for him.” Hawk met Cade’s eye. A lot of weight hung in that single look. Cade had seen it before, the time they’d smoked out a band of train robbers in western Wyoming. They were going to catch themselves a thief again.

  Cade rubbed his chin as he took another turn beside the desk. “We need to force Delancey to take the money out to the old Parker place, since we know that’s where he is when he’s north of town.”

  “But we know Joshua has spent time south of town as well,” Paisley said. “The plan will only work if we can make certain he doesn’t go south.”

  “So we block his path southward,” Cade said. “If he is carrying pilfered money, he’ll want to be rid of it as soon as possible, to reduce the chance of being caught with it.”

  “That means cutting off his access to the hotel, as well,” she added.

  “Mark my words,” Hawk jumped in, “I’ll have the two of you joining the marshals if it’s the last thing I do. We could use two people with a head for plotting.”

  Cade was already shaking his head. He’d been refusing that offer for years. “I picked the quietest corner of Wyoming on purpose, amigo. Savage Wells is proving exciting enough for me.”

  “Which brings me to a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Paisley said to Hawk. “How often do you think I’d be called on these ‘special assignments’ if I joined up?”

  “It’s hard to predict,” Hawk said. “It wouldn’t be constant, though. As the territory grows, we’d have more need of a woman deputy marshal. I’m confident you’d be successful enough that we could lobby for more women joining up.”

  Paisley was intrigued, anyone could see that. Cade vowed he’d f
ind a moment to tell her frankly what law enforcement was like outside the peaceful streets of Savage Wells. If she meant to ply her trade in those waters, she needed to know the true nature of the raging deep.

  Paisley had never seen so many people in the town council chambers. Odder, still, only one member of the town council was even present.

  “Quite the party you’re hosting here, Gideon.”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Cade’s the host tonight. You’ll have to discuss the guest list with him.”

  “It’s an odd assortment, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed.” Gideon motioned toward Mrs. Carol and Mrs. Wilhite gabbing in the corner. “The over sixty-five contingency.”

  “Be nice, Gid.”

  He nodded toward Tansy and Dead Ned. “We’re also joined by the criminal brigade of Savage Wells.”

  Paisley spotted Bill Nelson and Andrew standing apart from the others. “And, of course, the usual delivery-day deputies.”

  “Not to mention the delegation from Canada.” Gideon smiled at Mr. Jones and Mr. Oliver, who were deep in a cheery conversation. “And, of course, with you and Hawk both here, we have a pair of marshals as well.”

  “I haven’t firmly decided, you know.”

  “But you are certainly leaning in that direction.” Gideon offered her a chair, but she wasn’t in the mood to sit. “The possibility of you joining the marshals is about all Cade talks about anymore, outside of the bank troubles. He’s turning into a regular bore, you know.”

  Paisley didn’t know whether to be flattered or nervous. “What does Cade have to say about it? The marshaling, not the robberies.”

  “Well, there has been a lot of crying.” Gideon’s very serious expression bordered on the ridiculous. “He said something about how you get all the pretty things.”

  She shoved his shoulder. “Be nice, or I’ll write to my uncle, who will write to your uncle, who will write to your parents. Then you’ll get quite a tongue-lashing.”

  Gideon chuckled.