Longing For The Tormented Sheriff (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “I know what you said, Mr. Hammond; however, I think she is here,” Michael took a step closer to him.

  “Stay back,” Mr. Hammond said urgently.

  “Please,” Michael said, taking a small step backward.

  “I will shoot you if you take one step closer,” Mr. Hammond growled, “I don’t care that you’re the sheriff from that devil’s town.”

  “Devil’s town?” Michael asked.

  “Nothing good ever happened in that town,” Mr. Hammond said, “And seeing as there was a man here earlier today, also claiming to be the sheriff from Rust Canyon, I’m going to ask you to leave my property.”

  “What? Someone claimed to be the Sheriff of Rust Canyon?” Michael exclaimed.

  “Yes, I am not inclined to believe you, Sheriff,” Mr. Hammond said with a sneer.

  “At least the other one tried to look like a sheriff,” he added, looking at Michael’s clothes.

  “Look,” Michael said, reaching for his sheriff’s badge, “There is an explanation for my clothing, but here, look,” he put out his badge for Mr. Hammond to examine.

  “I’m guessing my impersonator was not able to show you this,” Michael added after Mr. Hammond had carefully examined the badge.

  “Well, he left after I brought my gun,” Mr. Hammond muttered.

  “I don’t know who came here before, but I am here because I desperately need to speak with your daughter,” Michael said earnestly.

  “I have already told you that she is not here,” Mr. Hammond said definitely.

  “All right then. Can you at least describe the man that came here earlier?”

  “He wore all black, shorter than you, brownish hair,” Mr. Hammond explained, “Did not seem to stay outside much.”

  “Why do you say that?” Michael asked, curiously.

  “He was pale, as one of them city-boys,” Mr. Hammond said.

  Shorter than me, brown hair and pale complexion. That sounds an awful lot like the description from Benjamin. Could the jerk that took Lillian have been here trying to get to Mrs. Wesley as well? Michael did not believe Mr. Hammond; he was sure he was hiding something. But he did not want to get into a gunfight with this man, who was most likely only protecting his family.

  “If you do see your daughter, will you tell her I am looking for her,” Michael said, taking a step backward, “And tell her that I found the bible.” He began to walk away and had nearly reached his horse when he heard someone call his name.

  “Sheriff Flemming!” Isabella Wesley called, standing close to her father.

  “Come in.”

  * * *

  Benjamin entered the Sheriff’s office, and his thoughts were with Michael on his trip to Mrs. Wesley’s parents. He was so deeply immersed with his thoughts that he did not see Jacob Frazier that stood inside the office, waiting for him.

  “Hopper,” Jacob said, making his presence aware to Benjamin.

  “Jacob!” Benjamin yelled, clearly startled, “You nearly gave me heart failure.”

  “I am sorry, old friend.” Jacob patted him on the shoulder. “I should have waited outside.”

  “Was the office open?” Benjamin asked, looking around, trying to remember whether he had locked or not. He had been in such a rush to go see Michael that could not clearly remember locking, although he always did so.

  “It was open, yes,” Jacob said, “I was hoping to see Flemming, I must say.”

  “He is away,” Benjamin said vaguely.

  “Look, Benjamin,” Jacob began, taking a seat in front of Benjamin’s desk, “I also wanted to apologize.”

  “Apologize to whom?” Benjamin asked.

  “To you,” Jacob explained, “I did not treat you like you deserve to be treated the other day, and I am sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Benjamin said, feeling slightly awkward. He sat down behind his desk, shuffling around papers to avoid looking at Jacob.

  “I know I have not taken the time to get to know you since I came to Rust Canyon, but that was a mistake,” Jacob said sincerely.

  “I see,” Benjamin said.

  “My family means the world to me, as I have told you, but this town also matters a great deal to me,” Jacob said.

  “Rust Canyon has felt more like a home to me than any other place ever has.”

  “I glad to hear,” Benjamin replied.

  “I have not been able to work since my sweet Lillian was taken from us,” Jacob said sadly, “And now that Michael is missing, I must admit that I am losing hope of ever seeing her again.”

  “Jacob, I think you know that Michael cares a great deal for Lillian,” Benjamin said, “He will not rest until he has found her.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Jacob said, sounding relieved.

  “But I am still very worried about Dorothy,” he added, the short-lived relief disappeared from his face.

  “Has something else happened?” Benjamin asked.

  “No, but she is refusing to open the door when I go over to see her, and her neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, says that she hasn’t left her house in a long time.”

  “That’s not good,” Benjamin said concernedly.

  “Perhaps she will speak with you?” Jacob asked, hopefully.

  “Me?” Benjamin said agast.

  “Yes, you,” Jacob said with a small smile, “your kindness and understanding manner might be what she needs right now.”

  “I could try,” Benjamin said unsurely.

  “Should we go now?” Jacob asked, looking intently at Benjamin.

  “All right then,” Benjamin replied, standing up again. He walked from his desk, and Jacob followed him. They left the Sheriff’s office, and Benjamin made sure to lock the door this time. In silence, the two of them walked over to the Walters’ home. When they approached the house, Mrs. Henderson came running outside of her home.

  “Benjamin!” she exclaimed, “Oh, is there any news?”

  “Hi, Pat,” Benjamin groaned, “No, not now.”

  “This is getting ridiculous,” Pat said, shaking her head, “This new Sheriff has only been here a few months, and then people start to go missing.”

  “Pat, please…” Benjamin began but was cut off by Mrs. Henderson.

  “I mean, where is he even? I have been talking to all my friends from church, and no one has seen Sheriff Flemming,” she said disapprovingly. Benjamin was about to reply to her when Jacob took a step closer to her, looking angry.

  “How dare you try to undermine our sheriff, and with petty gossip,” Jacob scolded, “Have you no shame, Pat!”

  “I…” Pat stammered.

  “My family is reeling, but you think it is more important to talk behind the back of Sheriff Flemming,” Jacob added angrily.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” Pat said nervously, “I apologize,” she said, looking between the two men. She turned around and hurried into her house again.

  “Thank you,” Benjamin said, looking at Jacob.

  “Of course,” Jacob said, “I realize it was slightly hypocritical of me, but this just made me mad.”

  “I appreciated it anyway,” Benjamin said, knocking on the front door of Dorothy Walter’s home. There was no response.

  “Dorothy!” Jacob called, leaning towards the door, “Please come to the door.”

  They both waited, listening for any sound from inside, but they heard nothing. Jacob knocked again but Benjamin held out his hand as Jacob made himself likely to call Dorothy once more.

  “Dorothy,” Benjamin said softly, his head very close to the door, “Can I come inside?”

  After a little while, Benjamin decided to open the door. “Dorothy, it’s me, Benjamin Hopper. I am going to come inside now,” he called gently. Jacob walked behind him, and they both looked around, trying to see where Dorothy was. They walked into the kitchen and saw Dorothy sitting at the kitchen table, looking absolutely stricken.

  “Dorothy,” Jacob exclaimed, walking towards her, but Benjamin grabbed his arm, stopping him
.

  “Wait,” Benjamin said, walking towards Dorothy. She was staring ahead with her eyes glazed over, and she was wearing a tattered robe and clutching a small blanket. Benjamin grabbed a chair and put it carefully down next to her.

  “Dorothy,” Benjamin said softly, “You should go and rest.”

  Slowly she turned her head looking at Benjamin, and she seemed almost surprised to see him.

  “Did you find her?” she asked miserably.

  “Not yet,” Benjamin said, putting his hand gently over hers, “but when she returns, you must have your strength.”

  “When?” Dorothy whispered.

  “Yes, when she returns,” Benjamin reiterated.

  “I just don’t know,” she said.

  “Well, I do,” Benjamin replied, “Now come on,” he said, standing up and helping her up. Dorothy stood up gingerly, clutching Benjamin’s arm for support. He strolled with her towards her bedroom. After a little while, Benjamin returned to the kitchen. Jacob stood looking at the chair Dorothy had been staring at.

  “This is where Philip, my cousin, would always sit,” Jacob said sadly.

  “She was finally starting to open up after he died, and now I worry if she will even live for much longer.”

  “She has lived through much pain,” Benjamin said, “But she has strength, I know she has.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Jacob asked.

  “Dorothy reminds me of my mother,” Benjamin explained, “After my father died I was sure she would never smile again, or even get out of bed, but she just needed to deal with her sadness in her own way.”

  “I wish I would have known your father,” Jacob said.

  “He would have liked you, I think,” Benjamin replied, “We should probably give her privacy,” he added, looking around. Jacob nodded, and they got up and left the house.

  “Everyone that I have heard talk about your father, mentions that he was a great pastor here in Rust Canyon,” Jacob continued. They walked back towards the town. Benjamin looked behind him and smiled a little when he saw Mrs. Henderson jumping away from the window where she had been observing them.

  “You certainly had an effect on Pat,” Benjamin chuckled. Jacob looked around and sighed.

  “I hope I wasn’t too harsh,” Jacob said.

  “No, you were within your right, I think,” Benjamin replied.

  “Did you never want to follow your father’s footsteps?” Jacob asked, “Become a pastor like him?”

  “I did think about it,” Benjamin said, “But there was a stronger pull within me to help people.”

  “You did not think you would have helped people by being a man of God?” Jacob asked curiously.

  “Truth be told, I was worried I would not be able to help if I became a pastor,” Benjamin admitted.

  “How so?” Jacob said.

  “My father always told me that he knew from when he first heard a pastor give a sermon that that was what he wished to do,” Benjamin explained. “That the urge and certainty had been present within him for almost as long as he remembered. He knew that by becoming a pastor, he would be able to serve the Lord and help people.”

  “Did you not feel that?” Jacob asked gently.

  “I was never sure what my path should be,” Benjamin continued, pausing as a group of people walked past them. They stood near the hotel now.

  “I nearly did become a pastor, just to fulfill my father’s wish. But then the Sheriff’s office was looking for a junior sheriff, and then I did feel an urge as if I was meant to be there,” Benjamin finished, looking slightly embarrassed.

  “It can be difficult to live up to our fathers,” Jacob chuckled softly.

  “You got that right,” Benjamin agreed.

  “You would have made a fine Sheriff, Benjamin.” Jacob winked at him and walked towards the hotel entrance.

  “I’m no sheriff,” Benjamin dismissed, “Besides, we have an excellent sheriff.”

  “That we do,” Jacob replied, nodding his head, “We sure do.” He walked into the hotel, giving Benjamin a small nod. Benjamin turned around and walked back towards the Sheriff’s office.

  * * *

  “Mrs. Wesley!” Michael said, hurrying back to the house, but Mr. Hammond took a step in front of his daughter in a protective manner.

  “Stay back,” he yelled at Michael, but Mrs. Wesley put a hand over her father’s arm.

  “It’s all right, father,” she said, “Come inside.” Michael walked toward them, and when he came closer to Mrs. Wesley, he noticed that she was pale as a ghost and had tear stains down her cheeks. They walked towards the sitting room, and as they sat down, a woman entered the room.

  “Who is this?” The older woman asked.

  “It’s all right, mother,” Mrs. Wesley said.

  “I’m Sheriff Flemming from Rust Canyon,” Michael said, taking off his hat.

  “I will make tea,” Mrs. Hammond said, leaving the room. Something strange was going on. Mrs. Wesley’s father looked like he was about to burst with anger, Mrs. Hammond was wary and suspicious, and Mrs. Wesley looked even thinner if that was even possible.

  “Why did you leave your home, Mrs. Wesley?” Michael asked.

  “I could not stay there anymore,” she replied softly, “It was not safe.”

  “But you knew I would try to find you?” Michael said.

  “I tried to tell you, tried to warn you, but once I realized that you had gone, I knew I would have to get away,” Mrs. Wesley said.

  “Warn me about what?” Michael asked.

  “About the people behind the kidnapping of Lillian Walter,” she said, but her father shook his head.

  “Don’t say anything else, Bella,” Mr. Hammond insisted.

  “Mrs. Wesley, if you can give me any information to help me find Lillian, you have to tell me!” Michael demanded.

  “I… I’m sorry,” Mrs. Wesley sobbed, “I wish I could.”

  “What do you mean by you wish you could?” Michael yelled.

  “I can’t risk it…” Mrs. Wesley began, but her sobs overcame her.

  “You need to leave,” Mr. Hammond said irately.

  “Oh, my,” Mrs. Hammond said as she entered the room, holding a tray with the tea. She put it swiftly on the table and sat beside her daughter, putting her arm around her.

  “You heard what my husband said,” Mrs. Hammond said, “You should leave. Why should we help you when you weren’t able to keep her safe—to keep them safe.”

  Suddenly Michael looked around the house. It had just struck him how odd it was that the house was so quiet.

  “Mrs. Wesley, where are your children?” he asked, and his horrible suspicion was answered at once as Mrs. Wesley began vailing.

  “They took them,” she sobbed, “They took my children away from me!”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Who took your children?” Michael asked urgently.

  “I don’t know who it was,” Mrs. Wesley cried, “But they knew that I was going here, must have watched me leave. We rode here very early this morning, and when I was halfway there, a man dressed in black stopped the carriage holding a gun at me. I begged him to spare my children, to take me instead, but he held something over my mouth, and I must have passed out…” she could not continue for tears.

  “This is horrible,” Michael gasped, “What happened next?”

  “I came around a little later,” Mrs. Wesley sobbed. “But… But then the carriage was gone, with my children,” she vailed. Mrs. Hammond held her daughter tightly; tears were streaming silently down her cheeks.

  “I walked towards my parents’ house, but I have no idea how long I was out.”

  “What did they say to you when they stopped you?” Michael asked after a short pause.

  “They said that I should have kept my mouth shut, they said they knew that I tried to warn you,” Mrs. Wesley said, looking at her hands.

  How could they have known that she tried to warn me? Whoever is behind all of thes
e, must have eyes and ears all over the town.

  “I had just returned from feeding the animals when I saw someone walking down the path,” Mr. Hammond said, “When I realized who it was, I ran toward her. I wanted to run after them and kill them, but Bella stopped me.”