Longing For The Tormented Sheriff (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “If you say so. Although I do think that one or two drinks would make me feel brand new.”

  “Just, promise me, Dennis,” Michael implemented.

  “Sure, Sheriff,” Dennis agreed and left to go inside. Michael opened the burnt envelope carefully, trying to see if he would be able to read the letter. He managed to pull out the note but was disappointed to see that more than half of the letter had burned in the fire. What he could make out was a few words on the singed paper.

  Dear Sheriff Flemm… On the lookout for… Fire… Many casualties… Reply… Careful… Rex… hunter…

  What on earth could this be? The letter seems to be a warning of some sort. But warning about what? And from whom?

  * * *

  Michael turned around, looking around the crowd of people. Suddenly, he felt distrusting, wondering if any of the folks here could be responsible for all these tragedies happening. He decided to head back to the Sheriff’s Office, needing to get away from the crowd to try and find out who had sent him this letter.

  He passed running children and noticed the oldest child of Mrs. Wesley trying to make her younger siblings behave themselves. When he approached the Sheriff’s Office, he saw Mrs. Wesley standing just outside the front door.

  “Afternoon,” Michael said to her.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Wesley turned around, startled.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” Michael asked her.

  “I…” Mrs. Wesley began speaking, but then she seemed to stop herself.

  “Mrs. Wesley?” Michael asked, taking a step closer to her. She stared at him, and there seemed to be an internal struggle within her.

  “It’s, I uh, it’s nothing,” Mrs. Wesley finally said with a smile that did not convince Michael.

  “Are you sure?” Michael asked gently.

  “Yes,” she sighed, before adding, “How is the search going?”

  “It’s, well,” now it was Michael’s turn to sigh and stutter, “We are working on all clues.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Wesley said with relief, “She is such a wonderful person.”

  “Yeah, she is,” Michael said quietly.

  “Just don’t lose hope,” Mrs. Wesley said, looking in Michael's eyes, “Keep fighting the good and righteous fight. Remember that He will command His angels concerning you to guard you carefully.”

  “Mrs. Wesley, do you kn…” Michael began but was interrupted by Benjamin that came running outside.

  “Michael, I need to speak with you,” Benjamin said urgently, “I think I may have an idea where Lillian might be.”

  “What?” Michael said, snapping around to look at his junior sheriff, “What do you mean?”

  “Let me tell you about it inside,” Benjamin said seriously, glancing at Mrs. Wesley, who looked away from the two men and left. Michael watched as Mrs. Wesley hurried away, debating with himself whether he ought to follow her. Something about the way she behaved just now told him she might know more than she seemed willing to admit. But the thought of this new clue was more important. Michael hurried inside the Sheriff’s office, followed by Benjamin.

  “Where do you think she might be?” Michael asked, “Did someone stop by here?”

  “No, it’s… I am afraid I might have made a grave error,” Benjamin said, looking mortified.

  “What do you mean?” Michael replied.

  “Well, the night that you went to search for Dennis, I was riding home late that night, and I noticed someone—a man I did not recognize, standing by an old abandoned shed not far from my house,” Benjamin began, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I approached the man, as he looked suspicious, but he told me that he had been taking a walk and got lost.”

  “And you believed him?” Michael asked, unable to keep the harsh tones from his voice.

  “I, I did, yes,” Benjamin admitted, “But when I think about this now, I think he might have been guarding something. I even remember hearing…” his voice trailed away as the guilt seemed to eat away at him.

  “Hear what?” Michael impatiently said.

  “A knocking sound or a clunking sound of some sort,” Benjamin grimaced, “I did not think anything of it then… but now!”

  “I have to go there now,” Michael said, turning away from Benjamin and striding out of the office.

  How could he not have taken a moment to investigate? Could Lillian have been there this whole time? Trapped in an abandoned shed… The thought sent chills down Michael’s spine. He had to hurry before he lost too much daylight.

  * * *

  Michael ran towards his horse, yanking the reins free from the hitching post. He mounted the horse and pulled hard on the reins and kicked the horse’s sides, making it jump ahead. He rushed across the main road, passed the old Post Office plot, which was now starting to resemble a house, with the outer walls already raised.

  That was quick. Jacob Frazier doesn’t waste any time.

  Michael rode on until he neared Benjamin Hopper’s house. He slowed down and looked around, trying to see the shed that Benjamin had mentioned. But he could not see anything. He rode up and passed Hopper’s house and the house next to it but could not see which shed he had been talking about, as there were sheds by each house, and further up the road was a small barn that looked abandoned, but he could not be sure.

  I should have brought him with me… I don’t have the time to look at all the sheds around here.

  Frustrated, he turned around, trying to stop at the place Benjamin had described when someone called his name.

  “Michael? Is that you?” Fanny Hopper called, standing outside their house, holding a washing tub full of fresh laundry.

  “Oh, afternoon Fanny,” Michael said.

  “How is the search going?” she asked concernedly.

  “That’s actually why I am here,” Michael said, dismounting his horse and approaching Fanny.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Would you happen to know which of these sheds around here is an abandoned one?” Michael asked hopefully, “Your husband mentioned an abandoned shed not far from your house.”

  “Oh, sure, that one,” Fanny smiled, “It’s the one near the Henderson’ barn, the one with the partially caved-in roof,” she pointed to a tiny shed in the distance. Michael peered in her direction and was amazed he had not noticed it before, but it blended so well within its surroundings that it wasn’t hard to pass it.

  “Thank you,” Michael said gratefully, making to mount his horse again.

  “I am praying for the safe return of Lillian Walter,” Fanny said seriously.

  “Me too,” Michael agreed as he heaved himself up and began riding up to the shed that Fanny had mentioned. It proved tricky to ride towards the shed, as the road was full of holes and loose rocks. Finally, Michael decided to dismount his horse and walk towards the shed. He tied the reins to a nearby fence and walked the short distance. He was alert and had one hand on his gun.

  Slowly he approached the shed, looking around to see if anyone was around. Carefully, he pushed the wooden door open, holding out his gun, ready to shoot. But inside was nothing. Michael grimaced and put his gun back into its holster. He entered the small shed and looked around. It was hardly possible to stand upright, so he crouched down, looking for any indication that Lillian might have been there.

  The floor of the shed was filthy, but Michael noticed unusual marks in the dirt. Like the marks by dragging feet. He looked outside and saw footprints, but he could not be sure if they had been his or if they had been there before.

  This is indeed suspicious. Is it possible that Lillian was here?

  He took one last look inside, and that’s when he noticed something stuck to the bottom of a bucket that lay there sideways. It was a torn piece of fabric, light blue material that immediately conjured up a picture of a dress moving in the wind as Lillian rode joyfully in their riding lesson. Michael grabbed the piece of fabric, holding it close to him. This could prove that she had been here… but where w
as she now?

  * * *

  Lillian stirred as she heard a soft clanking sound near her. Icy cold panic coursed through her, yet again, but slightly eased as she remembered where she was. She had been moved from that horrible little shed, thankfully. Now she was inside a much bigger place with very high ceilings. Not that she saw much of it. She was tied up on a filthy mattress in one corner and did not see much as high planks of wood surrounded her. The room was cold and smelled foul.

  Lillian sat up and noticed the small tray had been returned to her. It had a jug of water, bread, and a piece of cheese. She pushed it away from her, having no appetite. Again, her mind wandered over to Michael. Would he be able to find her? She was certain he would look for her. She could not explain it, but her heart knew he would look for her.

  Oh, my sweet Michael. I cannot bear being here for much longer. I long for nothing else than to hold onto you, safely in your strong embrace.

  The only thing that gave her strength was closing her eyes and seeing Michael’s piercing gaze, looking at her soul. She was waiting for him, but she didn’t know how long she could wait…

  * * *

  Michael stood up, fury the likes of which he had never felt before filled his every core. It was only slightly dampened by the pang of fear that sat like an icy lump inside his stomach. He could not think clearly with Lillian gone. He wished he could rip the person that had done this to her apart.

  I swear it upon my parents' graves that I will come for you.

  He hurried back towards the hotel. He had to confirm with Dorothy that this was from Lillian’s dress. But at the moment, he was not sure if that was the right thing to do. What if this was not from Lillian’s dress, and he would cause Dorothy more pain and suffering. He would have to be cunning and get her to confirm what she had been wearing.

  He knew how fragile Dorothy was, and he would not cause her even more suffering. When he arrived at the hotel, he noticed that it looked abandoned. He then rode instead toward the Sheriff’s office. Once he entered, he saw the harassed-looking Benjamin sitting at his desk, peering over a large map.

  “What are you looking at?” Michael asked, standing in front of Benjamin’s desk.

  “Michael, you’re back!” Benjamin said seemingly surprised. He heard but had not noticed Michael enter the office.

  “This is a map of the area; I have been adding in where Frazier’s search party has been already,” he added.

  “That’s good,” Michael replied, “Do you know where Dorothy Walter is at the moment?”

  “I think Mrs. Henderson took her back home,” Benjamin replied before he added, “Did you find anything at the shed?”

  “Yes, a piece of fabric that might have belonged to Lillian,” Michael replied gravely.

  “Really?” Benjamin answered with a pained expression.

  “I will need to discuss it with Dorothy, she would know the color and fabric,” Michael said, dismissing the look on Benjamin’s face.

  “I want you to know how sorry I am…” Benjamin began, but Michael cut him off.

  “Look, Hopper, I cannot deny that I am disappointed, but what is important now is that we keep looking,” Michael said, “Also, it was good work seeing the shed, especially in darkness.” Michael had realized that if Benjamin had not known about the shed and the area, they would not have the clue they had now.

  “I will stay here tonight,” Benjamin replied, “I will not let you down.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Michael responded.

  “I want to,” Benjamin answered, “I know you will not rest until Lillian is found, and nor will I.”

  “I appreciate that,” Michael said.

  “There is actually something you might be able to help me with,” he added, getting the burnt letter from his pocket.

  “What’s that?” Benjamin asked, looking at the singed envelope.

  “Old Dennis said he found this in the Post Office ruins,” Michael explained, “He saw my name and an important-looking envelope and grabbed it.”

  “How about that!” Benjamin said impressed, opening the letter.

  “It’s hardly legible,” he added.

  “I know it is a long shot, but perhaps you can try to figure out something from it,” Michael said.

  “I will try,” Benjamin replied determinately.

  “Thank you, Benjamin,” Michael said, “Now I must get going.”

  * * *

  Michael was once again riding, this time towards the Walters’ home. There was light in the kitchen window, and Michael could see movement inside. He dismounted and led his horse towards a fence, tied the reins, and stroked the beast's forehead.

  “You have been working hard today, eh,” he muttered to the horse. He turned around, and as he was about to knock on the front door, it opened, and Pat Henderson walked outside, almost crashing into Michael.

  “Oh, my word,” she gasped, “You startled me!”

  “Beg your pardon, ma’am,” Michael replied politely, with a small nod of his hat.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Pat smiled, “I was just heading over,” she nodded in the direction of her house.

  “You are welcome to come over for dinner,” she added with a small wink, “You must be hungry after all this work.”

  “I thank you for a kind offer, ma’am,” Michael said, “But I will have to say no.”

  “Oh, well, you take care of yourself,” Pat said, walking past him, “And I do hope you find our dear Lillian soon.”

  “You and me both, Mrs. Henderson,” Michael answered, gently knocking on the open front door.

  “Mrs. Walter?” he called, “It’s me, Sheriff Flemming, can I come inside?”

  “Of course,” Dorothy said, walking toward the front door, “Come on inside.”

  Michael walked into the kitchen and was momentarily overcome with the smell, feel, and spirit of Lillian that surrounded the house.

  “I wanted to ask you if you could describe what Lillian was wearing, the last time you saw her,” Michael asked.

  “She was wearing her blue dress,” Dorothy replied at once, “The one with the pearl buttons,” she nodded absentmindedly.

  “Was it a light blue color?” Michael asked.

  “It was,” Dorothy replied, looking intently at Michael.

  “What have you found, Michael,” she asked earnestly, “If you are trying to protect me, please don’t. I want to know everything.”

  “Fine.” Michael took the blue fabric from his pocket. “I found a piece of material.”

  “Can I see it?” Dorothy asked shakily.

  “Of course,” Michael replied, handing her the ripped cloth. Dorothy accepted it with shaking hands. She carefully examined it, and her bottom lip began trembling.

  “Oh, Lillian,” she sobbed.

  “It’s hers,” Michael said, more to himself than Dorothy. She nodded her head, unable to speak.

  “You will find her, won’t you?” Dorothy said between sobs, “You have to find her.”

  “I will, Dorothy,” Michael said seriously, “I promise.”

  Michael got up to leave, taking one last look at Dorothy, “Should I ask Pat to come back?”

  “No,” Dorothy said, “I need some time alone.”

  “I understand,” Michael said, walking out of the kitchen.

  Where should I search next? Lillian was in the shed yesterday, but someone could have taken her far away by now.

  He rode back to the sheriff’s office. Perhaps Benjamin had found anything useful after studying the map. When he entered the office, Benjamin was in the back, where Vincent was sitting in the jail cell. Benjamin had been bringing him a tray of food. Michael walked inside but looked down as he felt that he had stepped on something. It was a letter. He bent down to pick it up.

  “What’s that?” Benjamin asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Michael replied, “It was on the floor.”

  “What?” Benjamin said, surprised, “I just walked back to
the cell five minutes ago, and there was nothing there then.”

  “That is strange,” Michael said, “I did not see anyone walk away from the office.” Michael carefully opened the letter and read it.

  Sheriff Flemming. If you do not leave this town to never return again, Lillian Walter will die. You have until morning.

  Chapter Fourteen