Longing for the Tormented Sheriff
A Western Historical Romance
Cassidy Hanton
Edited by
Maggie Berry
Contents
A Thank You Gift
About the book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: The Cowboy’s Stolen Bride
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by Cassidy Hanton
About the Author
A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Finding the Broken Cowboy. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Again, thank you ever so much for your continuous love and support!
Cassidy Hanton
About the book
A lady in danger. A lonely sheriff. And their only hope? A diary lost in time...
After the inexplicable death of her father, Lillian Walter lives a quiet life with her mother, struggling to make ends meet in a small city of Texas, Rust Canyon. Preparing to accept the marriage proposal of a man her uncle introduced her to, the arrival of the new sheriff turns her world on its axis.
Back in Utah, like a harbinger of change, a telegraph marks the end of Michael Flemming's lonely life. Now he has to return to Rust Canyon and become the new sheriff. His career suddenly finds him confronted with something a lot more dangerous than crime: love.
When a series of fires start terrorizing the town, Michael realizes that his new position comes with old baggage.
However, when Lillian goes missing, things get personal. With ominous notes arriving at his doorstep, Michael must face a foe with no material form: secrets. And a long-forgotten diary just might be the key.
There is only one problem: The diary has been lost for months...
Prologue
Rust Canyon, 1888
The floor creaked as the old man absentmindedly pushed his foot into the hardwood. The room was completely dark, the only light coming from an oil lamp that sat precariously on a stack of books. The scratching of ink on paper echoed around the room, and the man sighed heavily.
Something very serious has happened, the old man worried.
I can feel it in my bones. I don’t believe in coincidences, never have. He is up to something.
His hand trembled as he dipped his pen in the ink jar, spilling tiny drops onto the tabletop. He closed his eyes for a moment before he continued writing.
I can see no other explanation, although it pains me even to write this. I need more information, although there is no doubt in my heart anymore. I will need to be careful, and I must speak with the Sheriff soon.
The wind howled outside, and a branch hit the window, causing the old man to jump in his seat.
I worry that he will stop at nothing. If everything I suspect is true, he will not stop for anything. But I have to think of my own family. I must do this for them. No one can know, except for Sheriff Flemming and me.
Chapter One
It was an early afternoon in the Walters’ house. And just like every ordinary day, it was the same motions for Lillian Walter: tie a red scarf around her hair, carry a bucket of water into the sitting room, kneel on a worn-out cushion, dip the white rag in soapy water, and scrub in a circular motion. Half-hour later, she swept an escaped lock from her forehead. This was a daily mindless chore. Could at least one day be different?.
“Lilli?” a shaky voice called from the kitchen,
“Yes, mother?” Lillian responded, still clutching the wet cloth.
“Would you help me, dear?”
She strode to the kitchen and caught the older woman struggling to keep the faded blue teapot with the wilted flower pattern from spilling hot water everywhere.
“Mother!” Lillian grabbed a kitchen towel and replaced the kettle on the stove. “What happened?”
“I was being silly,” Dorothy Walter winced at her predicament.
“Come here,” Lillian cooed and guided her mother to the kitchen chair.
“I was just going to make some tea, but the pot was so heavy…” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes.
“You should have asked me to help you.”
“My dear, I just wanted to be of some use.” Dorothy simpered, “You work so hard,” she added.
“This is hardly hard work.” Lillian hugged the older woman. “Getting to take care of my dear mother is a gift, not a chore.”
“You have always been such an angel.” Dorothy stroked her daughter’s cheek.
“Now, how about that tea?” Lillian lit the stove and carefully balanced the heavy kettle on the flames. She peered into the small pantry and noticed a small piece of pound cake. She grabbed plates, mugs, and the cake and placed them on the table.
“Look what I found,” Lillian gestured to the cake. Dorothy gave her a bereft look as she picked up a crumb that had fallen to the table.
“It’s one of Mrs. Calleigh’s cakes,” Dorothy whispered.
“Yeah,” Lillian nodded.
“She gave us so much food,” Dorothy chuckled. They sat in heavy silence for a moment, sadness creeping up its familiar head once more. Suddenly, the kettle whistled, signaling the water was ready.
“Let us not waste,” Lillian poured the hot water over the tea leaves. She breathed heavily, allowing the billowing steam from the water mask a tiny sob. This was the time for her to be strong—for both of them.
As she returned to the table holding the blue teapot with the wilted flower pattern, she noticed her mother staring at the empty chair in front of her. Lillian sat next to her mother and poured her some tea. Together they shared tea and cake in silence.
Lillian lived with her mother in their family home in Rust Canyon, a rather small but crowded town in Texas. Sandy plains surrounded the town. A small cluster of trees at the foot of the hill enclosed half of the town in a dense ring of green. The scenery was truly breath-taking, especially when the sunset cast an amber glow over the horizon.
Rust Canyon was filled with travelers, although it had its closely-knit group of permanent locals. The Walters lived close to the main street, just a few minutes away from the old church. When she was a little girl, Lillian had always loved hearing the chime of the church bells echoing through her window.
Nowadays, the church bells hardly seemed to chime any more. Or when they made a sound, it was curt and cold. The bells have rung in farewell too many times over the past months and now going onto years. Strange things had been happening in Rust Canyon—a string of bad luck.
First, there was the fire at the old
barn on the outskirts of the town. Then the tragic fire at the poor Wesleys’ home. Lillian shuddered at the memory. The Wesleys were a family of five and ran the woodshop—or used to. Lillian had to remind herself that Finnegan Wesley, the father of the family, had died in the fire, and the locals whispered that he had fallen asleep with his pipe and caused the fire.
Later, Lillian guided her mother to the rocking chair by the fire in the sitting room. Before Lillian stood to finish with her chores, she double-checked that the fireplace crate was secured, and the flame was not too strong. After the accident at the Wesleys’ home, she had been afraid of fire.
Somehow, she felt that a fire was happening almost every month. But she knew it was untrue, although the General Store was shut down after the mishap with the oil lamp last week. Lillian’s usually cheery demeanor had somewhat dampened after the death of the old Sheriff Flemming.
No one could blame her. After all the mishaps and accidents, the unthinkable happened. Lillian’s father, Philip Walter, had been killed almost three months ago.
I cannot believe it has been so long. I still keep expecting him to walk in the door, putting his hat on the hook by the front door and sitting down in his chair. My darling father, how I miss you. I worry that Mother is just biding her time until she can join you in Heaven.
Philip Walter had been shot during a bank robbery, and his killer was still out there somewhere. Lillian’s father had been the only victim, and there had also been no witnesses that she knew of. Lillian worried that with Sheriff Flemming dead, no one would ever capture the monster who killed her father.
Lillian thought they could really do with some good news around here. She returned to the hallway and picked up the bucket again. She sopped up the wet rag, looked at the half-cleaned floor. She would have to boil more water to finish cleaning, and she would need to get dinner going soon. Looks like I’ll be waking earlier tomorrow, Lillian murmured to herself as she carried the bucket out to the back.
Now alone in taking care of the house, Lillian felt each task was growing heavier by the day. As she watched her mother wilt away into a ghost of her former self, she was overwhelmed by the responsibility and sadness. She pushed her mourning aside, afraid she would simply split in two if she allowed herself to grasp the deep mourning for her father fully. Lillian understood she needed to be strong for her mother.
She removed her apron from her slender waist and took off her red scarf. Her blond, curly hair billowed down her back. Just as she hung her apron by the stove, she heard a knock on the door.
* * *
“Hello?” a cheerful voice called from outside. Lillian hurried to open the front door.
“Uncle Jacob!” Lillian squealed in delight
“My sweet, sweet Lillian.” Jacob Frazier walked into the house, his hands full of parcels and packages.
“Allow me to help you.” Lillian took some of the parcels and laid them carefully on the kitchen table.
When he was finally free of his load, Jacob said, “Come here,” and he scooped Lillian in a tight hug.
“Who is it?” Dorothy called from the sitting room.
“It’s only me, Dorothy.” Jacob let go of Lillian and walked into the sitting room.
“Jacob! What a wonderful surprise,” Dorothy beamed, making to stand up.
“No, sit,” Jacob said hurriedly, “sit, my dear.”
“Can I get you anything to drink, Uncle?”
“Oh, you know I would kill for a cup of your famous coffee,” he said with a wink.
“Coming up.” Lillian chuckled and returned to the kitchen. She eyed the pile of parcels on the table.
He is too kind to us. Lillian began brewing the coffee. Since her father’s death, Uncle Jacob had been their rock, unwavering with his support and kindness to them. Lillian could not imagine how she and her mother would have made it without him these past months.
Uncle Jacob was Lillian’s father’s cousin and a wealthy businessman who owned a few buildings in Rust Canyon. He had only recently returned to the town after years of living in another part of the state.
Lillian brought coffee for her uncle and tea to her mother. She was pleased to see her mother smiling and enjoying her tea, a rare sight in the sitting room.
“I was just telling your uncle how very grateful we are,” Dorothy said to Lillian, putting down her mug.
“We really are.” Lillian echoed.
“That’s what family is for,” Uncle Jacob said kindly. “I’m just sad that I can’t do more. Since dear Philip died, I feel a deep need always to be available to you, a strong connection.”
“Oh, Uncle,” Lillian choked, “You have already done so much for the community here.”
It had been widely known that Uncle Jacob gave the Church Society a substantial amount to help support their good work, and he assisted the poor in Rust Canyon with housing and loans.
“That reminds me,” Uncle Jacob said, jumping up from his seat. “I brought gifts.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Dorothy followed Uncle Jacob to where he was rummaging through the parcels on the kitchen table.
Uncle Jacob gestured to the parcels. “The General Store is barely up and running. So, I figured I should bring you some groceries.”
“Heavens,” Lillian gasped, “Are all of these groceries?”
“Sure are.”
“How ever did you manage to purchase so much?” Lillian asked, “Surely, this cannot be from the General Store?”
“I helped old Davidson from the store,” Uncle Jacob explained. “He needed money to replenish his store, so I helped out.”
“You are a true gentleman,” Dorothy said.
“We can’t have a town with no store,” Uncle Jacob dismissed. “But I didn’t only bring food. Here you go.” He picked out two neatly-packaged parcels and handed one to Dorothy, the other to Lillian.
Dorothy held out a sewing purse. “This is too much.”
“Nonsense.” He smiled at her. “You mentioned the other day that your sewing supplies were old and worn…”
“I might as well have been talking about myself,” Dorothy interjected.
Uncle Jacob laughed. “Well, at least now you will have no excuse not to mend my trousers.” he teased good-naturedly.
“Thank you,” Dorothy said, “Thank you!”
“Do you like yours?” Uncle Jacob asked Lillian.
“Uncle Jacob,” Lillian was speechless. She held a dress of a gorgeous blue shade, with delicate pearl buttons up the side. It was by far the best dress she had ever had, and much better than her everyday clothing.
“Oh my,” Dorothy whispered.
“Now,” Uncle Jacob began, “Before you demand I return this,” he said with a knowing smile, “I want you to hear me out. Recently, I bought the Saloon-Hotel. We are in the process of refurbishing it, and it will be the talk of the town when we finish. However, I need an excellent cook to feed my workers and someone to help us clean the place, and I was hoping you would be willing to help us, Lillian.”
Lillian stared at her uncle, her mouth open.
“Of course, I will pay you,” Uncle Jacob continued, “And after the opening, you will have a job waiting for you at the hotel. That is, if you would like to.”
“I would be delighted to.” Lillian walked to him and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, sweet Uncle.”
* * *
Uncle Jacob stayed with Lillian and Dorothy for the rest of the evening. He sat in the sitting room with his pipe, and Lillian put away all the supplies that he had bought for them. She could hardly contain her excitement of starting her new job. Lillian had not worked anywhere before, apart from taking care of the home.
Before her father died, she had toyed with the idea of training to be a schoolteacher, as she loved reading and children, but she could not be away from her mother. This offer would be absolutely perfect. The Saloon-Hotel was not far from their home, and she would still be very close to her mother.
/> The pantry was now full, and Lillian was filled with a breath of fresh air, filled with hope and excitement. She took great care with her cooking, wanting everything to be perfect. The smell from the stew filled the house, and soon the added scent of fresh bread combined with it—a delicious mixture. This was her mother’s stew recipe, but she had not felt like making it for a long time.
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