The Sheriffs of Savage Wells

by Sarah M. Eden

  He did still have one gun tucked out of sight under his coat. But shooting Lewis without hitting Paisley would take every bit of skill he had.

  “Take the shot,” Hawk muttered under his breath. “You’re the only one who can.”

  “I might hit her,” he answered back, careful not to move his mouth too much. He didn’t want to tip off Lewis.

  “Do you really think he’ll let her live? At least this way she has a chance.”

  Blasted blazes. Hawk is right. Lewis had taken a single step backward, pulling Paisley with him. He kept his gun to her head. Everyone held their breath, no one daring to so much as flinch.

  “One chance,” Hawk warned. “Make it count.”

  One chance, and a powerful big chance it is. “I need a diversion,” Cade said. “Gun’s at my back.”

  “Got it,” Hawk said.

  Cade tensed. A lifetime of shooting people, of honing that deadly skill, came down to this one moment. If he could pull it off, it’d be worth every sleepless night, every regret, every moment that haunted him.

  Hawk stumbled to the side, crying out loudly as he clutched his bloody arm.

  Cade worked off pure instinct. Flip coat out of the way. Draw pistol. Raise. Aim. Fire.

  Lewis fell backward.

  Paisley reached across herself and pulled Lewis’s second pistol from its holster as he fell. In one fluid movement, she spun and shot at something just beyond Cade. The telltale thump of someone dropping to the ground followed.

  He spared enough of a glance to identify him—Stevenson. Paisley was the only one who’d seen him sneaking up from behind with a gun in hand. Cade needed no more details than that.

  He made straight for Paisley. She’d dropped to her knees. Cade matched her posture, grasping her arms. She moaned and pulled away from his grasp.

  “Are you hurt?” He held tight to her shoulders, searching for signs of injury.

  “Quit squeezing my arm, Fergus, or I’ll shoot you too.”

  He opened his hands, only then noticing the blood seeping between his fingers. “Did I—?” he asked, eyeing the red stain spreading over her sleeve.

  “Lewis shot me from behind.” She looked down at her wound a moment, before pushing out an exhausted breath. “That’s how he got my weapon away from me.”

  She was hurt, but not badly. “Tansy took down Rice, but only after he’d shot Hawk. I think Rice is probably dead.”

  “What about Lewis?” She ducked her head to where the banker lay prone on the snow-crusted mud.

  Andrew was standing guard over Lewis. He must have run the whole way from the barn; he was still out of breath. The tiniest rise and fall of the banker’s chest told its own story.

  “Still alive,” Cade said. “Gideon’ll sew him up enough for a trial.” He looked back to Hawk, standing over Stevenson. “Dead?” he called out.

  “No,” Hawk called back. “But it’s bad.”

  “He was tied up,” Paisley said. “I don’t know how he got loose.”

  Dusk was coming quickly, and the temperature was dropping.

  “Hawk.” Cade motioned the marshal over. “You and Paisley get to town. Give Doc a chance to look at you both. Tansy and Andrew and I’ll meet you there with these three.”

  “First you shoot at me, and then you get rid of me?” Paisley objected weakly. “I’d hate to see your approach with women you don’t like.”

  “I ain’t ready to joke about this yet, Paisley.” He didn’t know if he’d ever be. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and simply hold her. But they had a mess to clean up first. “Tell Gideon to take good care of you,” he said.

  “He wouldn’t dare do anything less,” she answered with a smile.

  Cade turned to Hawk. “If you let anything happen to her—”

  “I know, you’ll shoot me. Get in line.”

  Cade allowed himself one drawn out moment to reassure himself she was whole and well and that they’d both survived the shoot-out. “I love you, Paisley Bell,” he said.

  “You’d better,” she answered.

  “I don’t need a sling,” Paisley declared firmly. Again.

  Gideon was unimpressed. “You’re a doctor now, are you?”

  “You have given me a little medical training.”

  “Telling you where I keep the camphorated oil does not constitute medical training.”

  There was no arguing with the man when he was on his medical high horse. “I feel stupid, is all. It’s just a bullet hole, and you got the slug out. This”—she motioned to the sling supporting her left arm—“seems pretty unnecessary.”

  “It’s a good thing Cade likes stubborn women,” Gideon muttered. He scrubbed at his surgical implements with a particularly pungent liquid. His usually cheerful expression was replaced with tightly drawn lips and deeply furrowed brow.

  “Is something the matter?”

  He kept at his work. “It’s never easy losing a patient. Even if that patient was bound for prison anyway.”

  Stevenson hadn’t survived, though Gideon had worked hard to save him. “He was going to shoot Cade,” she reminded him quietly. “It wasn’t enough just to slow him down. I aimed to stop him.” She’d shot him in the chest. “I have a feeling there was nothing you could have done to keep him alive after that.”

  He shook his head. “There wasn’t. But it’s still a difficult thing.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve had a patient die?”

  “No,” he said curtly.

  She sat at his desk. “Well, it’s the first time I’ve killed someone. So if you have any tips on coming to terms with that, I’d appreciate hearing them.”

  He closed up his medical case. “If you decide to become a deputy marshal, you’ll have to learn to deal with it. Have you changed your mind?”

  “If anything, today has solidified my determination.” It was an odd realization, but she couldn’t deny it was true. “There are bad men all over this territory hurting people, killing them. I worked for Sheriff Garrison without credit, without pay, because I wanted to help, I wanted to improve people’s lives. I’d be doing that every day as a deputy marshal. Taking a life isn’t an easy thing. But saving a life—that’s something worth taking a risk for.”

  “Does Cade know?” Gideon asked.

  She nodded. “He muttered something about missing me when I’m gone.” She smiled at the memory of his grumpy confession in her freezing cold house. “But he seems to think I’ll do a fine job and says if it’s something I want to do, I ought to do it.”

  Gideon sat in an armchair near the crackling fire. “I’m going to get sentimental for about thirty seconds, mostly because Cade’s my best friend and you are—and I mean this with complete sincerity—by far my favorite cousin. I don’t think I’ve met two people better suited for each other than you and Cade. That’s a rare enough find in a big city where a person has plenty of people to choose from. Out here in the middle of nowhere, that’s downright miraculous.” Underneath his praise of her and Cade’s connection, Paisley heard a note of loneliness.

  “Maybe some unmarried woman who loves noxious medicines and blood and gore will move to Savage Wells, and you’ll find your perfect fit,” she said.

  His doubtful smile was more than a bit self-deprecating. “I, for one, am not holding my breath.”

  “I would be willing to scout out any eligible women in the territory while I’m out deputy marshaling. It likely is part of my job.”

  It was good to hear Gideon’s laugh. “That’s just what we need, a federal marshal in charge of matchmaking.”

  “Is that what your assignment’s going to be?” Cade asked as he sauntered into the room. He looked as tired as Paisley felt. He eyed her sling, and concern filled his expression. “Is your arm bad as all that?”

  “Gideon’s just being an ol�
�� fuss. He didn’t make Hawk use a sling.”

  Gideon pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “Hawk didn’t need to have a bullet dug out of his arm, missy. You had a lot more damaged tissue than he did.”

  “Is she well enough to go to the jailhouse?” Cade asked. “Mr. Larsen needs to get her statement.”

  Gideon indicated she was free to go.

  Paisley paused as she passed his chair. She set a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a fine doctor, Gideon, and a good man. Try to remember that when you’re feeling discouraged.”

  He patted her hand. “Thanks, Pais.”

  She followed Cade to the front door. He helped her with her coat, she having only one free arm. “What was all that with Gideon?”

  “He’s kicking himself for Stevenson dying during the operation.”

  Cade watched her closely. “You shot the blackguard in the chest. A man doesn’t usually recover from that.”

  The gravity of her actions was settling with greater weight on her heart. “I had to,” she insisted. “He would have killed you. There was no time for a less messy approach.”

  He slipped his arm about her waist and pulled her up next to him. He didn’t speak; he didn’t have to. She knew he understood the struggle she was having inside and that it was one she had to pass through on her own. Paisley held tighter to Cade. How she loved this man, so strong when he needed to be, but so gentle as well.

  “Gideon said Joshua will be fine enough to testify against Lewis,” she said. “He was being framed the whole time. We had it all wrong, Cade. We took the bait and ran with it.”

  “I seem to remember you kept telling us you weren’t sure about it, that something didn’t seem right.” His hand rubbed her back in long, lazy circles. “I thought it was sentimentality.”

  “Because of my history with Joshua?”

  He didn’t answer out loud, but she felt him nod.

  “I’ll not doubt your instincts again, love. Not ever.”

  The bright ribbons hanging from every bar and filling the shelves in every corner stood in stark contrast to the day that had just passed. The cells were empty. Lewis was recovering at Gideon’s from the bullet that had shattered his shoulder. Tansy was standing guard in front of his room. Mr. Jones would be relieving her overnight. Nelson had volunteered the morning shift. Savage Wells was taking the future of their town very seriously.

  Over the next fifteen minutes, Mr. Larsen peppered her with questions, taking a thorough accounting of her answers. Hawk wanted to make certain Lewis, the sole survivor from the group of thieves, didn’t get away with his crimes for want of thoroughness on their part.

  Joshua had already given his statement. He explained how Lewis had never instructed him to send any telegrams, that the note found in his hotel room was not in his handwriting. That Lewis knew he had bought the old Parker place by virtue of having written up the note he’d purchased it with, and how he had used that information to point suspicion back at Joshua. The idea of framing the new bank teller had likely been formed even before Joshua’s arrival. It had also likely been the reason Rice had tried for the sheriff’s job. Stealing the funds would have been even easier if the local law turned a blind eye.

  Cade held her hand while she gave her accounting. She held fast to him as well. He’d sworn he didn’t kiss a woman if he didn’t mean it; she figured he wouldn’t hold her hand if he didn’t mean that as well.

  “I feel, in the spirit of full honesty, I need to tell you, Mr. Larsen, that, unlike Cade and Hawk, I’m not an official lawman of any kind, and unlike Tansy and Andrew, I was never temporarily deputized for this undertaking. I know that means I have less leeway when it comes to gunning people down.”

  Mr. Larsen nodded solemnly. Cade’s expression grew suddenly quite serious. Apparently the possible ramifications of Paisley’s actions hadn’t truly settled on his mind until that moment.

  “I have her papers granting her the title of United States Deputy Marshal,” Hawk jumped in. “They’re signed by the necessary people in Washington and by me. While we’re still missing her signature, I think it at least implies that, in the eyes of the United States government, Miss Bell has quite a bit of leeway when it comes to enforcing the law and keeping the peace.” Hawk met her eyes. “Not that I’m trying to force you into accepting the position. I just don’t want to see you in trouble for today’s work.”

  “She won’t have any trouble,” Mr. Larsen insisted. “There is enough evidence that she was acting to save a life when she shot Mr. Stevenson. I doubt any judge would rule her actions as anything other than completely justified. But the deputy marshal appointment, whether or not she accepts it, will help guard against any arguments of impropriety of her presence during the raid. And Mr. Lewis holding her hostage takes on an added degree of severity when her role as an agent of the federal government is understood.”

  “I should have deputized you,” Cade whispered, clearly angry with himself. “I didn’t even think of it.”

  Mr. Larsen gathered up his papers. “I’ll go over these and get everything organized so Marshal Hawking can take them to Laramie tomorrow when he’s ready. I think you have more than enough here to see to it that Mr. Lewis isn’t free to rob more banks any time soon.”

  Hawk walked Mr. Larsen out, discussing the situation in low whispers. Cade remained behind with Paisley.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked. “Shooting a man dead ain’t an easy thing to come to terms with.”

  “I haven’t let myself think about it much yet.” She stood and paced away. “At some point I’ll have to, but at the moment, all I can think about is how obvious it was that Stevenson was going to kill you, shoot you from behind. I knew it the instant I saw him sneaking up. I knew it as surely as I knew Lewis meant to kill me in the end.”

  “Oh, Saints above, Paisley.”

  She turned at the sound of his moaned words. He sat at the desk, hunched over with his head in his hands. He didn’t look up, didn’t move. She brushed her fingers through his hair and then slipped her hand around his.

  “What if I’d missed?” he muttered. “He was standing so close to you. What if I’d missed?”

  “You are the only person in the world I would trust to make that shot, Cade O’Brien. And you made it.”

  His troubled gaze turned upward at last. “I’ve a feeling I’ll be reliving that moment in my nightmares for a long time. If I’d been off even the smallest bit—”

  Paisley set her hand on the side of his face. She meant to say something reassuring but found her mind empty of words. This man who had made a career out of split-second decisions and understanding the necessity of occasional bloodshed sat there haunted by the possibility that she might have been hurt. She was touched, deeply. And yet she couldn’t let him fret over this. He had enough regrets weighing on his soul as it was.

  “Time to put on your big-boy britches, Fergus,” she said sternly.

  That golden eyebrow of his arched right on cue. “I’m in trouble, am I?”

  “I’ve had a horrible day. I was shot, then endured having a bullet dug out of me. I need you to quit your wailing and hold me.”

  He obliged without hesitation. His embrace was warm and reassuring. “I don’t ever want to pass another day like we’ve just had, darling.”

  She held more tightly to him with her good arm. “Neither do I. Seeing Stevenson poised to kill you, knowing I couldn’t do anything because I’d stupidly allowed myself to be surprised and disarmed—” She leaned against his chest.

  His next breath trembled as it escaped. “I’ve never been shaken that much while doing my job before.”

  “That is a firm argument against me working as sheriff’s deputy here,” she said. “Even if the town council ever agreed to pay for one.”

  “You’ve the right of it, I’m afraid. It’s a shame, though. We make a goo
d team, you and I.”

  She smiled up at him. “I suppose we’ll have to find a different way of combining forces.”

  His smile was a touch crooked. “I can think of a few ideas.” He held her gaze as he leaned ever closer.

  His kiss was tender in an almost inexplicable way. There was a gentleness to it that spoke volumes of how fragile she apparently seemed to him in that moment, as if he sensed that she’d nearly been snatched away. Her heart melted at the painstakingly slow kiss. He, who never seemed scared of anything, had truly been afraid for her.

  He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “If you get yourself shot while deputy marshaling, I’ll kill you,” he whispered.

  “Understood.”

  Worried as he was, he wasn’t going to argue against her taking the job. She’d never imagined there could be a man who understood her as completely as he did, let alone one who truly valued and respected the person she was.

  “I love you, Cade,” she whispered.

  “You’d better.”

  Paisley stood a few steps away from the only occupied cell in the jailhouse. She’d grown more quiet during the past five days. Cade couldn’t decide if she was stewing over her decision about marshaling or regretting her role in the roundup.

  Cade set an arm around her and stood at her side as Hawk and his newly arrived deputies pulled Lewis from his cell and out the front door. Delancey stood on the porch, his forehead still bandaged, a look of anger on his face that would have left even a hardened criminal quaking.

  “You’ll be held in the territorial prison in Laramie,” Hawk said. “And your trial will be held there. Are you clear on that?”

  Lewis didn’t answer.

  “We’ll be on our way, then,” Hawk said. “Unless Sheriff O’Brien or Deputy Marshal Bell has something to say.”

  Lewis’s expression turned mocking. “Deputy? She’ll never be anything but a joke.”

  Paisley didn’t flinch, didn’t respond at all. She simply watched him with an obvious dose of bored patience.

  “She’ll be a fine deputy marshal.” Delancey of all people made the declaration. “She caught you, didn’t she?”