“Tell us what will you do about that, Mr. Sheriff Wanna-Be!”
The banker ducked and jumped off of the wooden box. As he stepped backward, an arm looped around his throat while other hands grasped his arms and pulled them behind him. A snap of metal cuffs sounded in his ear.
With a strangled gurgle to his voice, the want-to-be sheriff protested. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing to me?”
A hand whirled him around so that he faced a very angry man. “I’m holding you so the sheriff can charge you for being a part of my niece’s kidnapping.”
Mrs. Martin, the hotel owner’s wife, gasped and fainted conveniently onto the bench in front of the mercantile. Murmurs of surprise and accusation rippled through the crowd, and Morrison let the group simmer for a moment before he moved the banker out of the street and into the sheriff’s office.
Fred Sittig watched the two men leave and knew that was the sign that Ledbetter was outside. They’d planned for the Pinkerton to remove Strong from the street, just in case he was involved with Ledbetter’s gang. The two men did seem as thick as thieves.
Cully and he moved out of the alley beside the mercantile and entered the group. Ledbetter was in the process of climbing onto the box James Strong used each time he campaigned. Raising his short arms, the lawyer’s soft voice dripped with regret. “Now, folks, seems like a mistake has been made. Don’t let that friend of the sheriff fool you into turning against a good man like Banker Strong.”
From the crowd Fred heard a voice he recognized as Stinson. “If he’s such a good man why’d he turn against his own son. Manny Strong’s godly and takes care of Widow Hoffman’s farm like it was his own.”
As several voices agreed with the man, Amos held up his arms again, palms out. “That’s family business and not our concern. Let’s focus on this election.”
With a snort of disgust, Stinson stomped away from the group. Like a church benediction had been delivered, the others standing in front of Ledbetter drifted away as well. Soon, the man stood nearly alone on the top of a crate meant to hold soap.
Cully positioned himself behind the man and Fred approached from the side. “Well, Mayor, seems like the crowd is gone. That means it’s time for our business.”
Scowling, Ledbetter stepped off of the box and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s Saturday, and I’m not in the mood to do anymore town business.”
Moving along with the mayor/lawyer, Cully shadowed the man and waited. Fred waved someone out of the alley and into Ledbetter’s line of sight. The man gulped and darted a worried glance at the sheriff.
“Our business, Mr. Mayor,” Fred grated out with derision, “is about Miss Melrose over there. She’s told quite a tale. And,” he arched an eyebrow meaningfully, “as a Pinkerton agent I think what she has to say will carry weight with Judge Tompkins.”
Ledbetter hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his black overcoat. The hand reemerged in one smooth, flashing movement, and the weak March sun glinted off the metal held in each hand.
The revolvers pointed menacingly at Charity. She scowled and spit in Ledbetter’s direction. “You should have killed me earlier if you wanted to keep what you’ve done quiet. I’ll blab from here to Chicago about the procurer lawyer who makes money from selling young girls.”
When Ledbetter sited the barrel, Cully rushed from behind and pushed the man. The handgun roared, and only Amos lay on the ground. Cully’s shove had sent him into the mud and muck of the street. Charity stood unharmed and indignant.
“What kind of lunatic tries to kill a woman in front of the sheriff and his depu--?”
Fred’s gaze, fixed on the man who lay in the street, now shifted to the Pinkerton. Quickly, he saw that an arm around her throat had caused her sudden silence. His missing deputy had reappeared.
Hansen tightened his grip and raised a nickel-plated Colt to Charity’s temple. “Cully, get away from him. You and Fred should go on believing Strong sold those women and let Ledbetter walk away.”
With a shake of his head, Fred denied the man. “Can’t do that, Hansen. It’s not the truth. A good lawman should stick to the truth.”
The man scoffed, “Sure. I should expect a churchgoer like you to say that.”
“So, you know I’m not letting Ledbetter go. What do you want instead to let Miss Melrose go free?”
With his thumb, the turncoat deputy cocked the revolver. It’s click sounded loud in the nearly empty street. “What do I want? That woman you married needs to take back the curse she put on my family.”
Fred looked over his shoulder, into the empty alley. “Lilah, come on out and talk to this man.”
Hansen’s eyes narrowed to peer into the shadowed alley, his head craning in that direction. It was enough distraction for Charity to go limp in the man’s arms and then twist. Her hand came into contact with Hansen’s knee as she slipped downward.
The small gun made very little sound. At least compared to Hansen’s scream as the round fired from the octagon barrel entered his knee. Almost reflexively, his finger squeezed the revolver’s trigger. By that time, Charity had wiggled and crawled away from the injured man.
In the commotion, Ledbetter saw an opportunity and took it. Cully’s eyes watched the screaming man, no longer pointing his own revolver at the crooked mayor. The mud-covered man scrambled to his feet and raced toward the livery.
At Fred’s shout, Cully went after Ledbetter. Launching his body through the air, he landed on Amos who once again rolled into the mud, face first this time.
Standing, Cully gripped Ledbetter by the arm and pulled him to his feet. The deputy began walking him to the jail but halted, taking a good look at the filthy man.
“Seems all his mud throwing today has come home to roost. Literally.”
The typically meek lawyer growled at that and strained against the deputy’s grip. “Shut up, you idiot. There’s no evidence against me so you’ll be out of a job as soon as I get this mess straightened out.”
Cully laughed. “There’s a bird in a cage who’s tweeting about the boss in Idyll Wood.”
When Amos looked at him blankly, the deputy nodded to Fred. “Explain it sheriff.”
Fred returned the nod and fished a paper out of his pocket. “See this telegram, Mr. Mayor. It’s from the warden at Halderson’s prison. Seems Halderson named you as the ringleader.”
Fred smiled broadly. “He even told where to find the ledger I need.”
The deputy shook the suddenly boneless man. “That should be evidence enough. Along with Miss Melrose’s testimony.”
As the prisoner reached the jail, Morrison stepped out onto the boardwalk. When his niece rushed to stand next to him, his glance flicked from Charity’s bruised eye to Ledbetter. “If your hands weren’t restrained, I’d pay you back for her black eye.”
A fist flew next to him. A scream followed a meaty thunk. Charity shook her hand and blew on her skinned knuckles.
At her uncle’s surprised expression, she shrugged. “Didn’t bother me about his hands.”
Morrison shook his head and smiled. “That’s my girl.”
Fred glowered at the girl before spouting commands. “Cully, you take Ledbetter. I don’t trust Morrison with him.” Then he pointed at that man. “Morrison, go see to the man your niece shot.”
When the detective nodded, Fred smiled tightly. “I have a bride to comfort. And I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted to do more than that.”
Epilogue
Autumn
Lilah watched Marta croon to her baby and thanked the Lord again that finding the young mother had been easily done. She’d been ready to hire Morrison to track her down, just to check on her well-being. But, the girl hadn’t gone far, and Cully had found her working in the Beer Garden.
It had been while Lilah stayed with Myra and watched the bond she had with Samuel that the urge came over her. She knew she had to try at least to find Blossom’s mother.
Even though she and Fred already loved that little baby, Lilah felt certain Blossom’s own mother did, too.
Also, the baby refused the bottle. No matter how many times Lilah tried to coax the nipple in, Blossom wailed pitifully and pulled away. It left Lilah with a hollow grieving feeling for the baby who wanted her mother’s nourishment.
Only two days after the wedding, the day after the sham election that Fred easily won, Cully found Marta and brought her to the farm. The poor woman—really a girl at sixteen—saw her baby and cried until Myra chastised her, cautioning that she’d ruin her milk for the baby.
For the last month, the young mother and Rose Blossom had lived in the house Lilah had built for them. Well, for them and others like them. Out of gratitude, Marta had kept the name for the baby that Fred and Lilah gave her.
Lilah had put about the word that other young mothers could find a place to stay by coming to Idyll Wood. Already, she had three mothers, including Marta who did the cooking for those in the house. The young women living there shared the cleaning and laundry.
Using her contacts in Chicago, Lilah was working to find jobs for the women, ones that would allow them a place to live with their baby. So far, she didn’t have any jobs located, but she was hopeful. For now, she toyed with thoughts of opening a bakery and having the women help with that. It would contribute to paying for the cost of running the house.
Sighing softly as she watched the eight-month-old baby, Lilah rose and moved to the pair. She softly kissed Blossom’s head, bringing a gurgle of delight from the happy infant. As she breathed in the scent of this baby, Lilah longed to hold her own child.
Oddly, at that same moment, that child kicked her. Hard. Maybe he wanted to be born as badly as Lilah wanted him with her. The next three months would be the longest of her life she suspected.
Marta watched her with a worried expression. When Lilah noticed, she patted her friend’s arm. “I’m fine. Just tired of waiting for this baby. I want him now.”
The girl’s features relaxed and curved into a smile. “Well, you can’t hurry a baby. Bringing baked goods won’t wear it down like a certain man I could name.” She ended her words with her sweet, little girl laugh.
With a shake of her head, Lilah grinned. “You heard about that. Poor man. I did stalk him and all because of that letter in the newspaper advising me to be available to him.”
A sort of longing glowed in Marta’s eyes. “At least it worked. Look at you, married and expecting. A girl’s dream.”
Obviously Marta’s dream. Well, Lilah didn’t intend to be a matchmaker just to help her friend’s dream come true. No, definitely not.
Of course, with not being able to find them jobs, that might be the solution. She’d have to think on it and speak with Morrison. He had more life experience and might be able to advise her on a safe way to find men for her ladies.
Safe was the key word. She hadn’t heard from Helga, even though Lilah’s father and step-mother promised to forward a letter when it arrived. It had been a year now with no word, and Lilah’s limited patience had run out.
During the last eight months, Charity had stayed in Idyll Wood to learn from both her uncle and Lilah. Lilah taught her to bake as well as to behave like a lady. With the time they spent together, Charity and she had many long talks about the Lord. It encouraged Lilah as much as she knew it did Charity.
Whenever possible, her uncle would come back to Idyll Wood. He worked on Charity’s defensive skills as well as how to be more crafty as a detective. The two would leave soon to head to Minnesota and investigate Helga’s situation.
After all, what good was having money if Lilah couldn’t spend it to be sure her friend was safe. Hiring the uncle and niece was a way to send someone she trusted to Helga’s rescue if there was a problem.
Dear Lord, let it be a problem and not that Helga had passed away.
Smiling sadly at Marta’s remark about marriage, Lilah only shook her head and waved good bye. She would think more about matchmaking. Maybe Morrison could find out if more brides were needed in Minnesota where Helga went.
The women’s shelter was close to Lilah’s own home so she was back in her warm kitchen in two shakes of a dog’s tail. There, she settled beside the stove into her rocker. Contentment washed over her, and she picked up the bible from the small table nearby.
With her own baby on the way, she’d been reading through Isaiah. The promise of a special baby in that book had drawn her to it. Today, she read a verse in chapter forty that stopped her.
They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. She hadn’t exactly waited for the Lord to allow Fred to notice her. But, while in Chicago, she’d prayed and even asked God to take away her love for Fred. Instead, that love only grew stronger. She’d felt led to return and act on the advice from the Lovelorn.
Closing and setting her bible aside, Lilah allowed her heavy lids to slide shut. Like so many other days, she needed a nap.
The gentle touch on her cheek woke her. She opened her eyes and saw her husband’s concerned gaze.
“Are you ill, love?”
With the fog of sleep clouding her brain, she blurted out the question that nagged at her. “Am I really your love?”
Fred straightened from squatting beside the chair and studied her. “Have I done something wrong?”
She struggled to control the tears that wanted to escape and moved her head from side to side. Speaking would only allow the moisture to flow.
With tender hands under her elbows, her husband helped her out of the rocker. He wrapped her in his arms and stooped down to bring her head to his chest.
His eyes twinkled. “If you’d only eaten your vegetables, lady, you would have grown tall. Then, I wouldn’t have to bend down to kiss you.”
It was a familiar joke. Lilah knew he wasn’t criticizing her. Even so, his words loosened the torrent of tears she’d tried to stop. Wailing, she snuggled into his chest and soaked Fred’s shirt.
He pulled her away to look into her face. “What’s brought this on? You know German men aren’t good with crying women.”
Again, he was trying to get her to laugh. She only wailed louder and struggled to choke out her words.
“I—I—I was reading—” The sobs interrupted her words. Breathing in through her nose and out of her mouth, she worked to stop the tears with the same technique she used to stem her panic. One she hadn’t had to use much since marrying. With Ledbetter’s conviction and Fred’s presence with her at night, she’d rested easier.
The technique worked and soon she only gave the occasional hiccup. Fred cradled her close again, and rested his chin on her head.
“Such a nice chin rest. Glad you came my way so I have a soft head to put it on.”
Lilah pushed against him and pulled away. “What a horrid thing to say. That’s not funny.”
Looking perplexed, Fred held his hands up plaintively. “Tell me what’s set you off. I want to know what I’ve done.”
Trying again to explain it, Lilah began telling him about her bible reading. “And I came to the verse that says if we wait on the Lord then he’ll give us strength. But I am so tired of waiting for you to love me.”
A little sob escaped her. At his blank look, that sob escalated into a wail. Really, she’d never cried like this, not even after being rescued from the brothel. It must be the baby.
His arms pulled her stiff body against him. “Seems to me you waited long enough while you helped me see the right of us marrying. It didn’t take me long to know I love you.”
Her tears suddenly stopped, and she frowned fiercely, again pulling out of his arms. “You love me. Well, why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice rose as she said those words, and Fred’s eyebrows lifted at that. She knew that she surprised him since she never yelled.
“Didn’t you think that I’d want to know how you felt? After all, the town all but strong armed you into marrying me.”
He shook his head, confusion knitting his brow
s. “Haven’t I been tender with you?”
This time, she was confused. “What does that have to do with telling me you love me?”
“I have been telling you. I guess just not with words.”
Lilah guessed if she asked more, he’d say something that had to do with being a German man. Groaning, she fixed her hands on her widening hips and glared.
“Well, sometimes I need the words. It’s part of being a woman.”
He grinned mischievously. “And what a woman!”
Then he grew somber as he reached for her hand. “Lilah Sittig, I love you and can’t imagine a better wife for me. You definitely showed me that you would be the best helpmate a man could ask for, no matter how our marriage happened.”
“Is this only because I pushed you into saying the words?” She had to ask. She needed to judge the sincerity of his words. Yes, he was always tender and caring with her. It was just that no one, it seemed, had ever truly loved her. At least, not since the death of her mother.
“If you pushed, it was only because I’m not giving you what you need.” He reached an arm around her and cradled their baby with his hand. “I love you, now and always. And I love this little guy. Or girl.”
She whispered the words like a vow made before God before his head came around and his lips met hers. “Now and always.”
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About this Series
YOURS TRULY: THE LOVELORN, a multi-author sweet historical romance series, puts an old-fashioned spin on the modern-day "Dear Abby"-style newspaper articles. Each story features someone frustrated in love who writes to The Lovelorn. Then the complications set in. Every book stands alone and features its author's unique creative touch. Be sure to read all the books in this series!
Wistful in Wisconsin (Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Book 10) Page 10
