by Emilia Loft
Dear Molly,
Thank you for your last letter. You set my heart at ease, knowing that you do not feel ill will towards me at my confession. How lucky am I, to have a friend who looks past the defects of my nature? It is a rare thing, indeed, to not be met with prejudice. You ask if it would be so hard to pretend fondness for you; surely you realize that it would not be pretending at all! I do feel a great fondness for you! Just not in the way that I’m meant to. But I think, dearest Molly, who has known me since you were in braids and I still in short-pants, that we could very well make a life with each other, as long as we are of an understanding. I think it would be best if only you and I know of our arrangement. You know my brother disapproves of what he calls my “differences”. I think, perhaps, his worry would ease if he thought I was happily married. He needn’t know what happens behind closed doors.
I’m writing today to tell you of our latest excitement here in Lockwood! Mikael has hired a new sheriff for our growing town. He is the strong, silent type one would read about in dime novels. He cuts a dashing figure, despite his rather short stature. I haven’t yet determined what sort of fellow he is, as he seems sparse with his words. Unfortunately, Mikael gave him the use of Azure. I grew used to spending time with her in the stables, confessing all my woes to her willing ear. Sheriff Jameson has invited me to visit her any time I wish, so I am going this evening. It won’t be the same, but I appreciate his kindness.
I must close this letter for now, my dear friend. Do write and tell me of your embroidery. No, I jest-I do not want to hear of your embroidery. But I hope you will write and tell me how you are doing and give me the news from home.
All my best,
Ian
* * *
John marveled over the sunsets in Montana. He hadn’t known how many colors could streak across the wide, open sky. It made his ride home enjoyable as he inhaled the fresh air, grateful not to still be breathing the polluted air of the city. As he drew around to the back of his cabin, heading towards the stables, he saw Ian leaning against the gate of the paddock. He’d removed his spectacles and donned his coat and waistcoat once more. Ian straightened and raised a hand in greeting as John rode up next to him.
“Good evening, Sheriff.” He said, smiling and resting a hand against Azure’s cheek. The horse nickered and nudged against the palm, obviously recognizing Ian.
“Were you waiting long? I got held up helping someone with a broken wagon wheel.”
“Not long at all and it’s not a bother to wait.”
John slid off Azure’s back and handed the reins to Ian. “She’s all yours for the evening.”
“Thank you.” Ian’s eyes glittered in the dimming sunlight. “You don’t know how much I appreciate your generosity.”
John found his eyes couldn’t stop wandering to Ian’s lips. They were a delicate shell-pink and drawn in a cupid’s bow, the lower lip plump and enticing underneath the thinner upper lip. John had to remind himself not to stare; he swallowed and tried smiling, albeit shakily. He reached up and adjusted his hat until he found his voice again.
“I’ll leave you, then. I need to get washed up and have my dinner.”
John felt alternately relieved and disappointed to walk away from Ian. He found it hard to breathe or talk around the young teacher, as though his pull was so strong it robbed the air of oxygen. John worked diligently to clear his mind as he washed his face and hands at the water pump and went inside to eat. Afterwards, he lit lanterns around his cabin and idly wondered if Ian was still in the barn.
The stars were just coming out as John returned to the stable. The scent of fresh hay and horse feed assaulted his nose as he hovered around the entrance. Ian had lit a lantern inside and it cast a small glow around him as he stood near Azure, running a curry comb over her flank. The horse stood still, clearly enjoying the attention.
“He’s taking good care of you.” Ian said softly, speaking to Azure. “He’s nice, isn’t he?” Azure chuffed and ducked her head to pull at the hank of hay in her trough. “He’s got nice eyes.”
John froze in the doorway, feeling as though he’d intruded on a very intimate moment. Ian’s body was highlighted by the lantern light, the flickering glow showing off his curves beneath the fold of clothing. The play of light across his Ian’s skin reminded John of the way the sun set across the mountains, shadow and light undulating, leaving behind the day-warmed earth and the hush of nighttime.
“I think of him, sometimes.” Ian leaned closer to Azure’s face and John had to strain to hear the gentle whisper of words. “I think how he might feel beneath my fingers. How his hands would feel on my skin. I think I might die happily if only to have him touch me, open me up.”
John’s breath stole from his lungs, his throat dry and brittle. His eyes burned as hot as the tightly coiled desire in his belly. Suddenly, he felt wrong being there, felt he shouldn’t listen to Ian’s intimate confessions. As silently as possible, he pushed away from the doorway and walked swiftly to his back door. Ian’s voice stopped him just as he was about to enter his cabin.
“Sheriff Jameson?”
John turned and saw Ian hovering at the stable door. “Y-yes?”
His voice sounded odd, as though he no longer knew how to form words in the same way. He turned and ambled back to the stables, hoping Ian hadn’t seen him fleeing.
“I’ve finished my visit and just wanted to bid you good evening.” Ian’s voice was soft and warm, like honey stirred into tea. “Thank you, again, for letting me visit.”
“Of course. Visit any time, now that you know what time I’m home in the evening.”
Ian reached out and grasped John’s hand, causing the coil of heat at John’s center to begin unraveling. “Thank you, Sheriff Jameson.”
John’s throat worked as he tried to remember how to form words. All he could concentrate on was the soft brush of Ian’s skin, his fingers tightening around John’s hand, and the deep blue of his eyes as they stared at him. Those eyes could look into his soul and know all of his secrets, if he met his gaze for too long.
“P-please.” John croaked and then cleared his throat and tried again. “Please, call me John.”
Ian’s smiles were another thing of beauty, so clearly genuine and rarely given. The smile that stole across his face now was gentle and pure, communicating the joy of proffered friendship. “All right. Then you must call me Ian. Thank you… John.”
The sound of his name on Ian’s lips left John weak at the knees. What would his name sound like, cried out in the throes of passion as John pressed a trail of hot kisses along Ian’s jawline? He closed his eyes, nearly in pain at the picture his imagination painted. Ian, stretched out below him… open me up….
John had to bite back the moan that formed in his throat as Ian let go of his hand and turned to leave. As he reached the gate, he turned.
“You should join us this Sunday after church for dinner.” Ian said. “We always have a great feast.”
“Y-yes… I mean, no!” John cursed his luck. “I’m sorry, I already accepted an invitation to dine with Miss Sawyer and her father.”
The light dimmed in Ian’s eyes and he glanced at the ground, shyly. “Ah, well. You mustn’t break promises, of course… and Miss Sawyer and her father are lovely people. Perhaps another time, then?”
“Perhaps.” A dull ache of disappointment formed a lump in John’s chest. “Good night, Ian.”
“Good night, John.”
5
Chapter 5:A Mind Divided
The rain returned in the night, the drops pelting the tin roof of John’s cabin. In his dreams, the sound of rain became the distant explosions of guns. John crouched behind a rock, his back pressed to the stone as he reloaded his gun. The air around him was thick with dust and smoke, the metallic tang of burnt gunpowder tickled his nose. The crack of gunshot punctuated the screams of the natives the army battled. John’s heart pounded painfully in his chest as his mind raced to catch up to the action. Ti
me slowed around him as he chambered his rifle and eased around the rock. He’d barely lifted the rifle to his shoulder when the bullet tore through his shoulder, friendly fire gone awry. John knew only pain and the dizzy, fuzzy feeling as he fell towards the earth, blood pumping in his ears.
John jerked awake, his heart thumping. He clutched the patchwork quilt covering him, squeezing his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white. It took him a moment of deep breathing to calm down, to realize where he was. His old shoulder wound ached as he tried to flex his stiff muscles. John sat up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep. The sky outside was still an indigo blue, still had a spattering of stars winking in the pre-dawn stillness. John groaned, getting to his feet. He splashed cold water on his face outside and then returned inside to pull on his work clothes. A dull ache settled behind his eyes and a cloud of irritability hung over him. He groaned his way through shaving, his stiff shoulder making the task painful. Too out of sorts to boil water for coffee, John stumped to the stable to start his morning patrol a couple of hours early.
Azure was already awake and whinnied softly, pawing at the paddock door in excitement. John offered his first genuine smile of the day and took her saddle down from the wall. He paused after saddling her to rest his forehead against her velvety cheek. He climbed on the saddle and urged her out of the barn. In the distance, the birds were waking up and singing their morning song. John took his patrol slowly, since he had plenty of time to spare. He guided Azure over the now familiar ridges around Lockwood.
Mikael Lofte’ men were already out, herding cattle into a fresh pasture. John lifted a hand in greeting, stopping to chat with the men and check to make sure no more instances of cattle mutilation had happened without his knowledge. Assured that nothing unusual had happened, John tipped his hat and rode on. The sky now lightened to a dusky gray shot through with streaks of pink and orange. Azure approached the lake John tended to think of as “Ian’s lake”. As they drew closer, she did an odd shimmy of excitement. John had to squeeze his legs tightly to keep from being unseated and in the dim morning light, he realized what had his horse in fits.
Ian sat near the lake, his back turned to them. He wore a billowy white shirt, untucked, over leggings and he currently held a delicate pair of field glasses to his eyes. A leatherbound notebook lay open on his lap.
John thought to leave without saying anything, but Azure had other plans. She approached the lake, stepping on twigs and generally making a racket. Ian whipped his head around, his eyes widening in shock. When he saw Azure, he smiled. His eyes trailed up to John’s and the smile softened to something more shy and closed. He lifted a hand in greeting.
“Good morning, Sheriff Jameson. You’re out early.”
“I thought you were going to start calling me by my first name.” John dismounted, smiling back at Ian.
Ian ducked his head as John moved around the small lake to stand in front of him. His cheeks colored pink and he looked up at John through his lashes. “Sorry, I forgot.”
John bit his bottom lip as he looked Ian up and down. “What brings you out this early?”
“My classes start in a few hours.” Ian replied. “This is one of the few times of the day that I can be alone.”
“Ah,” John shuffled uncomfortably. “Of course. Well, I’ll leave you, then, so you can enjoy your time to yourself.”
“N-no!” Ian’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it that way. You can stay… I’d like you to stay. If you don’t have to be somewhere else.”
John shook his head. “No. My patrol can wait. I started early this morning, so I don’t have to be anywhere quickly.”
He stooped next to Ian and indicated the notebook, the pages of which were filled with line drawings. “What are you working on?”
John marveled at how easily Ian blushed and he wondered if Ian knew how fetching the flush of pink across his cheeks was. Ian offered the notebook to John shyly. One page held detailed drawings of plants, each part of the plant labeled in neat, meticulous handwriting. On the other page was a half-finished drawing of a falcon.
“I’m watching her with my field glasses.” Ian indicated the falcon. “And trying to get her just right so I can show my students.”
John flipped back through the notebook, noting the drawings of flora and fauna. Some were tinged with watercolors and all were labeled with scientific names and interesting notes. “This is fantastic!” He said, pausing at a full-page drawing of a horse that closely resembled Azure. “Amazing!”
The blushing continued and Ian smiled and said a quiet “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” John insisted. “For showing me this. I needed something to brighten my morning.”
“I noticed you looked stiff in Azure’s saddle. Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” John waved away Ian’s concern. “Just a rough start to my day.”
“I can tell.” Ian impulsively reached out and brushed a finger over John’s cheek, who felt like he’d received an electric jolt at the touch. “You missed a spot.”
John lifted a hand to cover Ian’s, feeling the rough stubble on the side of his face. “I… I did, didn’t I?”
As if realizing what he’d just done, Ian snatched his hand back and turned away. “I apologize, that was inappropriate.”
“No it… it was fine.” John’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, already missing Ian’s touch. “I’m afraid my shoulder kept me from shaving as closely as I normally would.”
Ian nodded. “You have a war wound in your shoulder.”
“How do you know that? Did Mikael tell you? It doesn’t keep me from my work.”
“No, he didn’t tell me. I’ve noticed sometimes you hold your shoulder very stiffly, as if it pains you. You do it especially when it’s about to rain. Which it is. We should get a real drencher this evening.”
“So you know my shoulder pains me. How do you know it’s a war wound?”
“Process of elimination.” Ian said. “Your age, your station in life, and your bearing all tell me that you are a military man, even if my brother hadn’t already told me that. There have been several battles over the last decade, mostly involving Indians and the Western expansion. If you’re a military man, I can easily deduce that you’ve seen your share of battles.”
“You really are brilliant, aren’t you?” John breathed, his eyes sparkling.
“That’s not what people normally say.” Ian replied, meeting John’s gaze steadily.
“What do they normally say?”
“They call me unnatural… a freak of nature. I do not have the usual interests of a young man living in the West. I am different and it scares them sometimes.”
“Then they are small-minded fools.” John snapped, feeling anger on Ian’s behalf. “Because I think you’re amazing.”
John reached over and took Ian’s hand. The young man’s fingers stiffened at first, but then relaxed as John rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. Without questioning whether he should, John raised Ian’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the smooth skin on the back of his hand. “You should be told you’re amazing every day, Ian Lofte.”
Ian’s throat worked as he swallowed audibly. His eyes took on a silver sheen as he watched John’s lips. John let go of Ian’s hand and stood up, dusting off his trousers.
“I… should go.” John said. “It’s almost daylight. Your classroom awaits, as does my patrol.”
His words broke them both out of the moment and Ian nodded quickly, blinking a few times and looking away. “Of course. Thank you… John… for the conversation. Perhaps we will meet again one of these mornings.”
“Perhaps.” John threw his leg over Azure’s back and pulled himself up. “Take care of yourself, Ian. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
John’s emotions warred with each other as he rode away. Half of him wanted to turn around and sweep Ian up in the saddle. He would carry him across the plains and they would go somewhere secluded
. John thought of kissing Ian until he lay gasping beneath John, begging for more.
The other half of his emotions sent alarm bells ringing. Don’t do this again. Don’t forget the lessons you learned with James. Walk away and don’t look back.
John groaned to himself, pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes and letting his bad mood settle back around him as he continued on his patrol.
* * *
He stopped at one of the homesteads outside Lockwood at mid-day. The farmhouse had seen better days. John called out a hello to the blonde woman hanging damp clothing on a line strung across the front of the property.
“Good day, Mrs….?” John tipped his hat, approaching slowly.
A dark-haired child, far too thin, poked her head around the woman’s legs. Round bruises ringed the child’s wrist and John felt his hackles raise.
“Moran.” The woman snapped, looking at John with hooded eyes. “Mrs. Mary Moran. And you are?”
“Sheriff John Jameson. Just doing my patrol and wanted to stop and say hello, see if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Mrs. Moran looked John up and down, contempt written on her face. She nudged the child away from her. “Go back in the house with the others, Rebeccca. Go on!”
She accompanied her command with a sharp slap on the child’s backside and the little girl ran to the house wailing. John glimpsed several more pairs of eyes staring out of the front door before Rebecca disappeared inside.
“Don’t need anything from the law.” Mary snapped. “We keep to ourselves and thank you kindly to do the same.”
John nodded and backed away. “I can respect that, Mrs. Moran. Should you need anything, you can find me in town.”
Mrs. Moran glared at John as he climbed back on Azure. Before leaving, he paused, taking note of the ramshackle shed behind Mrs. Moran. The door hung open and inside he thought he saw an array of sharp knives laid out on a long work table. Not wanting to ask more questions and anger her further, John made a mental note and nodded goodbye.
“Good day, Mrs. Moran. Pleasure to meet you.”
