The Wanted Bride

by West, Everly

“Fine, how about a frying pan?”

  Nathan shook his head and left. Maybe feeding her the snake nonsense wasn’t such a good idea. But then again, maybe it was.

  He’d bet his horse she didn’t move from her spot on that cot.

  * * *

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sheriff.” Henrietta lied over the edge of her coffee cup.

  Nathan sighed. Did she think he was that dim-witted? He’d checked with the assayer’s office before he’d left town. Henrietta Bland had come in and sold four hundred dollars worth of gold ore the day after the Shadow’s first hit on Leachman. Now there were three new milk cows in the barn, a sow about to burst with a litter of piglets in the farrowing pen and a large flock of chickens scratching in the barn yard. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where she’d gotten the money for the orphanage’s new livestock.

  “Since when did you start calling me Sheriff, Mama H?” he asked, trying to remind of her their close personal connection.

  “Since when did you start treating me like a criminal?” she countered.

  Nathan rose, walked around the small kitchen table and squatted down beside the woman who raised him. Wrapping his arm around her, her pulled her close. “I’m sorry, that was not my intent. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to get to gather all the facts on this case.”

  Henrietta sniffled and pulled away from him. “Leave it me, honey. There was malice, just someone God sent to help us.”

  “Pretty sure Bart Leachman would disagree.”

  “That old codger has more money than he knows what to do with.” Henrietta blew her nose and straightened in her chair. “Not that I’m saying our new sponsor got the money from Mr. Leachman.”

  “Of course not.” Nathan grinned and returned to his seat on the other side of table. “Did you know there were two more robberies?”

  Henrietta’s brow shot to her hairline. “Two?”

  Nathan nodded. “About a thousand dollars worth of ore was stolen in broad daylight a coupe of weeks after the first job. Last night the Shadow, aka the orphanage’s new benefactor, took almost ten thousand dollars from Mr. Leachman’s safe.”

  “I-I h-hadn’t heard about last night’s robbery,” she admitted, shock clearly stamped across her features.

  “That’s because I have the thief sitting in my jail.”

  “Oh, dear,” Henrietta muttered. Shock morphed into worry.

  Nathan wasn’t sure if her concern was for the orphanage or the Shadow’s well-being.

  “Please, Nathan, don’t incarcerate someone for their charitable deeds,” she pleaded.

  “Charity or not. They broke the law.”

  Henrietta stood and retrieved a small wooden chest from the pantry. It was the burden box. The box where a child could metaphorically store his burdens away. Many a child had dropped their worries in the magical box. Him among the them. The children always left feeling like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders.

  She centered the box on the table between them then nodded toward the sheriff’s star pinned to his shirt. “Put it in the box.”

  He stared at the wooden box, but made no move toward his badge. “Mama H—”

  “Trust me, honey,” she interrupted. “I promise I’ll give it back.”

  Nodding, he unpinned his badge from his shirt and dropped it into the chest.

  “Now, you’re not the Sheriff. The letter of the law is not your concern, but you know right from wrong. You understand good intent from bad. You know someone who selflessly gives to others. This person gives every penny they earn to those in need. Never keeping any for themselves. Every penny.” She paused for a heartbeat before continuing, “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She was admitting the Shadow was the orphanage’s sponsor, but more importantly, she was verifying that Hannah hadn’t kept any of the stolen ore for herself.

  “Do you begrudge that person or do you praise them for their generosity?”

  “But they stole it.”

  “That part is in the box.” Henrietta shook her head. “Now listen to your heart. Is that person a good person?”

  A hot knot formed in Nathan’s throat, almost choking him. “Yes.”

  “Is the world a better place with them in it?”

  His heart pounded. The knot in his throat disappeared and the unbearable weight that had almost crippled him for the last twenty-four hours lifted from his shoulders. “Yes, yes, it is.”

  Henrietta nodded and opened the box holding his badge. “Now, put that piece of tin back on and ask yourself, ‘Who has their generosity hurt?’”

  “Leachman,” Nathan grumbled as he pinned his badge to his shirt.

  “No,” she argued. “I’m assuming you’ll return the ten thousand dollars from last night. So, at the most he’s lost twenty-five hundred dollars.”

  Nathan nodded.

  “You could think of it as an unintentional donation to the orphanage. Considering his vast wealth, twenty-five hundred dollars would be deemed a small donation.

  Nathan remembered the contract folded in his shirt pocket. The amount Leachman would be “gifting” every month would add up to a sizable yearly donation for many years to come. Somehow, that thought made him happy.

  “Your last benefactor finagled a deal with Mr. Leachman on your behalf. No more middleman.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew the agreement and laid it on the table beside the now empty burden box. “I had a lawyer look it over before I came out. It’s legal.”

  “If he ever reneges on a payment, you come tell me. I’ll take care of him for you.” He rose and moved to the back door. “I need to get going. I’ve left my prisoner alone too long already.”

  “Nathan?” Henrietta looked at him with beseeching eyes.

  He paused, then winked. “I heard you, Mama H. I heard you.”

  Chapter 13

  Hannah couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to get out of her cell, if only for a few minutes. She needed to go to the privy desperately.

  With a quick twist of her boot heel, she retrieved the lockpick from its hiding place. Less than a minute later, she was out and running for the privy.

  When she returned to the Jail, she couldn’t make herself go back into the small cell. Maybe if she had a cup of coffee, it would calm her nerves enough to confine herself again.

  She made a pot of coffee. Poured herself a cup and sauntered back toward her cell. Still unwilling to lock herself behind bars just yet, she left the cell door wide open while she sat on her cot and enjoyed her coffee.

  A moment later, she heard the front door open then close. Nathan!

  In her scramble to close her cell door, she spilled her hot coffee over the top of her left hand. “Oow!”

  Nathan raced through the door between the front office and the jail area. “Hannah!”

  Sucking on her injured hand, she barely closed her door before he barreled toward her.

  “I heard you holler. Are you all right?”

  “I fine,” she lied, cradling her hand against her chest. The scalding pain searing her tender flesh was almost unbearable.

  “Let me see,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  “Don’t make me come in there.”

  She shook her head. How was she going to explain she’d burned herself with hot coffee? Coffee she wasn’t supposed to have access to.

  Maybe she could lie and say a good Samaritan, someone she didn’t know, had come by, made coffee for the Sheriff and handed her a cup through the bars. Yeah, that might work.

  Through the bars…. Through the locked bars… Only they weren’t locked. She hadn’t had time to relock her door before Nathan came in. Oh no. Oh no!

  Quickly, she shoved her blistered hand through the bars and hoped he’d fall for her story. Except she accidentally bumped a bar with the heel of her hand and the door swung open.

  * * *

  It too
k a second for things to register in Nathan’s mind. First, he caught a glimpse a painful-looking burn covering the top of Hannah’s hand. Then, he caught sight of iron bars coming at him. Before he could dodge them, they hit him square in his face. He saw stars—lots of stars.

  Pain radiated up his face and into his brain. He stammered backward, but stayed on his feet. Grabbing his nose, he bellowed, “What in blue blazes!”

  “Nathan! Are you all right?” Hannah dabbed at his bloody face with the hem of her skirt, while she led him to his office chair and pushed him down. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… Let me get you some cool water.”

  Nathan grabbed her elbow. “No. Just stay put until I can unscramble my brain long enough to figure out what happened.”

  He excepted her to try to escape, but she didn’t. She just went back to dabbing at his face with her dress. Finally, his nose stopped bleeding and the booming drum that had been beating a loud, relentless tempo lowered to something akin to stampeding hooves in a meadow. He could still hear it, but he could at least hear himself think now.

  Still holding her elbow, he slid his grip down to her wrist. She hissed in pain the instant his fingers touch her hand. Nathan yanked his hand away. “You’re hurt. Let me see.”

  This time she didn’t argue with him. Her hand shook as she held it out for his inspection. Was her pain that intense or was she so upset that her escape plan had failed that she shook?

  A mean-looking, inflamed blistered covered her entire top of her left hand. It had too hurt like the dickens. “What happened?”

  “I burned myself with hot coffee when I tried to close the cell door when you came in.” Her voice was soft, her tone self-reprimanding.

  “How did the door get unlocked?” He had a real good idea how, but he wanted to hear it from her.

  “I had a lockpick hidden in my boot.”

  That was about what he thought. And then another thought smacked in him upside his sore face. “Who gave you the coffee? Who knows you’re here?”

  “No one. I made it.” Hannah blushed a pretty pink. “After I went to the privy.”

  Suddenly, he remembered smelling coffee when he first came in. But why would she wait around for a pot of coffee before high-tailing it to freedom?

  “Why?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t ready to get back into my cell and I thought coffee might help me muster up the courage.”

  “No, Sweetness. Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?

  Somehow Hannah had ended up in his lap. He wasn’t sure if he’d pulled her down or she’d curled up on him of her own accord. Not that it mattered. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her.

  “I couldn’t do that to you. Everyone in Laramie knows about our relationship, about us courting. If I conveniently escape your custody, everyone would think you let me go. It would ruin your reputation as a lawman.” She cuddled deeper into his embrace, laying her head against his shoulder.

  Something seized his heart and held on tight. Once he could catch his breath again, he asked, “You would sacrifice your freedom for me?”

  “I love you, lawman,” she whispered against his bloody shirt. “I would sacrifice everything for you. Even my life.”

  Raw, uncontrollable emotions overwhelmed him. Tears clouded his vision. She loved him.

  She would willingly spend the rest of her life in prison for him. Surely, she would give up her thieving ways for him.

  He pressed her to him, holding her tight then he whispered against her ear, “I love you with fiber of my soul.”

  He heard her crying into his shoulder, felt her hot tears soak through his shirt. “Ah, Sweetness, don’t cry.”

  “You loving me makes things worse,” she mumbled around his shirt. “Now, I have to spend the rest of my life wondering, imagining how our lives might have been.”

  “Shhh, things will work out.” He cupped her chin in his fingers. “Remember you how you told me this morning that you’d learned a lesson?

  She nodded, tears still running down her cheeks.

  “Well, I learned a lesson today as well.” It broke his heart to see her cry. “I learned, like many things in life, there can be shades of gray when it comes to keeping the law.”

  “Re-really?”

  “You did the right thing, my love. But you did it in a very wrong way.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll tell Leachman chased the Shadow most of the night last night. When I retraced our tracks today, I found the saddlebags full of his money and a note telling me I got to close for comfort and he was leaving the Laramie area for good.”

  Hannah straightened in his lap. “You think that will work?”

  “Sure, but you’ll have to write the note in case he remembers your penmanship from the first one.”

  She frowned. “Will that void the agreement he signed this morning?”

  “I don’t think so. I had a lawyer look at it. He said it looked legal enough, but suggested I have the judge sign off on it. So, the judge’s office was my next stop. Judge Lowell was glad to sign it as legally-binding.” Nathan tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and grinned. “Even if Leachman somehow wiggled out of it, I think Loretta Leachman would make sure the payments were made to the orphanage every month. For a little woman, she has a big temper.”

  Hannah beamed the brightest smile he’d ever see and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, lawman.”

  Nathan bit back a groan as pain shot up his neck and into his head. Still, he knew his smile was just as bright as the woman he loved. “I love you, Sweetness.”

  After a small pause, Hannah’s brow puckered. “Isn’t this where you kiss me senseless?”

  “I’m all bloody. I didn’t think you’d wanted to be kissed until I clean up.”

  “I’ll always be willing to kiss you, no matter the circumstances.”

  “Even if I ask you to promise something first?”

  “Anything.”

  “Promise me you’ll never steal again.”

  “I promise, I’ll never steal again.” Then Hannah winked. “Unless Leachman doesn’t honor the agreement.”

  “You minx,” he growled

  “Did you expect anything less. Now kiss me senseless.”

  “My pleasure.” Then he did just that.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading The Wanted Bride and I hope you enjoyed Hannah’s story. Next up is The Deceptive Bride. Here’s a sneak preview…

  Boston, Massachusetts

  May, 1888

  Arielle Dufosse’ sat on her favorite bench in the middle of her family’s flower garden. It was the only place she felt at peace these days. The constant chatter of summer soirees and gentlemen’s calling cards lining the foyer table now even threatened that little piece of heaven.

  “Arielle? Mother wishes to speak with you.” Her twin sister, Arianne, called out to her.

  “I know and I already know what she wishes to speak with me about. That’s why I’m hiding here.”

  Her sister approached, her shoes crunching on the garden path’s gravel. Her sister sat beside her and took a peak at the journal Arielle was writing in.

  “Writing in that journal of yours again I see. When will you come down from the clouds and be practical, dear sister. The world is right in front of you and yet you live with your head in the sky.”

  Arielle closed her journal and turned to study her sister. Always the practical one, Arianne didn’t believe in anything she couldn’t see. And, yet she knew there were wondrous things in this world that a person could not see with their eyes. They had to feel it with their soul. Like love.

  “My dear sister, when will you let go of your mathematics and logic to experience the joys of allowing yourself to let your control to slip. Just a bit. Being in control of everything is tedious, don’t you think?”

  “No, I do not. I like order and the only way I can achieve order is by controlling my world. Chaos and I do not get
along, and I’m not willing to go where the wind blows me, Arielle. I decide where my path goes.”

  “I can agree with your sentiments,” Arielle assured her sister, “to a point, but sometimes letting the wind take control can lead to a wonderful surprise, don’t you think?”

  “No, I do not care for surprises. Not in the least.” Her sister reminded her, although it wasn’t necessary. Arielle had seen her twin sister’s aversion to the unexpected first hand. She remembered one time when—

  “Arielle? Arianne? Are you coming? Your father is waiting.” Latisha Dufosse’ walked down the garden path toward them, an amused smile stretched across her rose colored lips. “Arianne, I sent you to get your sister, not join her in this attempt at a rebellion. Come now, Arielle, your father simply wishes to speak with you about Mr. Dubois’ proposal. Nothing is set in stone. At least, not yet.”

  “Very well, mother. I will speak to father, but he isn’t going to like what I have to say. I refuse to marry someone I have never even met.”

  “My dear, I think you will be surprised by your father’s willingness to listen. Now, shall we go? I think it prudent not to keep him waiting too long, although with three women in the household, I dare say he’s used to it by now.”

  Arielle and her sister bookended their mother, locked arms with her and followed the gravel and moss covered path back to the rear entrance of the great house. The ivy covered red bricks and tree shaded lawn gave Arielle a great sense of peace and belonging she was certain she would never feel anywhere else.

  The three of them entered into the cool interior of the large and airy home and followed the wide tile floor to her father’s library. Even during the heat of a Boston summer, the house remained comforting and homey.

  “Pierre, Arielle is here.” Her mother announced. She kissed Arielle on the cheek. “Please, keep an open mind. One never knows what opportunity lies on the other side of a closed door.” Then she and Arianne turned toward the glass solarium for afternoon tea leaving Arielle to face her father’s idea of a perfect solution to his daughter’s reluctance to choose a husband.