A Bride for the Sheriff
Page 3
No, this was the best option, and it helped to erase Peter from her mind. She had almost convinced herself that she hadn’t even really loved him. He’d just been a distraction.
At least, that’s what she wanted to believe.
5
“She’s going to be here in just two days,” Jackson confided to his closest friend, Lewis Hunter on a Sunday afternoon as they lingered in church well after the other parishioners had gone home. This man, the preacher of Jackson’s church, had helped him through the toughest times of his life. Now, they sat together in the church near an open window enjoying the slight breeze that blew in.
“Are you nervous?” Lewis asked frankly. “It’s a hard thing to meet a woman for the first time, let alone one that you are potentially betrothed to.
Jackson had told him everything about the arrangement in great detail. Skepticism had marked his friend’s face, but to his credit, he said nothing against it, which was just as well considering it was too late to change anything now.
“Well, I’m not marrying her the moment she steps off the train, so I’m not that worried in that way, but what with her coming so far, I wonder if she’ll be disappointed.”
Lewis clapped his friend on the back encouragingly. “You are a man worthy of a good woman, my friend, and I will pray for the two of you. And, if it’s God’s will, I hope to marry you when the time is right.”
A frown crossed Jackson’s face. “Should I tell her everything?” he asked. “You know, about my…past?”
The preacher leaned back against the hard pew, folded his hands in front of him and blew out a long breath. He seemed to contemplate the matter for several moments before answering. “Well, maybe not all on the first day, but eventually. You want her to hear it from you first rather than through gossips. If she doesn’t, it’ll be hard to gain her trust. Lack of trust is a complex thing to recover from.”
Jackson nodded his head. “But I’m not that man anymore and I don’t want her to have a bad opinion of me before I have the chance to make a good one.”
“Yep, that’s tricky alright. Well, let’s spend some time in prayer and see what the Lord has to say about it.”
The two men bowed their heads and brought their concerns before God. Although he didn’t hear any booming voice with clear instructions, Jackson felt much better after they finished. If it was God’s plan that he should marry Charlotte Henderson, that’s exactly what would happen.
Neither man in the church heard or saw a figure hunched in the shadow of the church near the open window. Clint Barrows smirked to himself as he eavesdropped on the sheriff and preacher. So, the great man of the city was getting himself a fancy wife from the East, was he? That was interesting indeed.
Clint bore Jackson a great grudge. He’d thrown him in jail on the day that he was supposed to take Mary Walker out for the first time. Now, she wouldn’t have anything to do with him and it was the sheriff’s fault. Sure, he’d lifted the money out of the cash drawer at the general store, but he’d had every intention of paying it back. The owner, a hard man named Clyde Turner wanted him punished to the fullest extent, which ended up being six months in jail. If he’d taken more, it would have been longer, but he’d only wanted a few dollars to show Mary a good time. Now that dream was crushed and he would never find another girl in this town.
Jackson Davis could have let him go. He could have let him off with a warning considering it’d been his first offense, but oh no. That man had power and he used it to feed his big ego. Now he was going to get a beautiful wife along with his important job?
Several thoughts ran through Clint’s mind. There were other men who would like to see the sheriff miserable. He would enlist their help. If he could sabotage this marriage, he would feel that he’d repaid the sheriff for what he’d done to him. Then the score would be even.
“You look fine, Jackson. Quit fussing and preening in front of that mirror,” his sister scolded him affectionately while brushing away some imaginary dirt from his shoulders. “She already knows what you look like, and you certainly aren’t going to improve yourself now. You’d better be on your way. It’s a good three hours to Livingston.”
Jackson blinked nervously as he attempted to straighten his tie once again. How did men wear these tortuous devices every day? He’d borrowed the suit he was wearing from Theodore who had many such outfits, and even though they were similar in size, Jackson felt ridiculous and uncomfortable in the get up. It chafed and itched, but Margaret would have none of his complaining.
“You only get one chance at a first impression, and this is the one you’re going to make. You can’t show up in denim and leather. Don’t argue.”
Arguing was the last thing on his mind. So many other thoughts pushed in that he just followed his sister’s words like an obedient child. Within minutes, he was seated on the bench of Theodore’s buggy being pulled along by two strong horses. He didn’t have his own trap of course. Sheriff’s don’t make enough money for such things.
He hadn’t gotten more than ten miles out of Bozeman before being approached by a rider racing towards him at top speed.
“Sheriff!” the young teen called. “Sheriff, wait!”
Jackson pulled back on the reins to halt the horses and turned to face the rider. “What is it? What’s the matter?” As a law enforcement official, his mind was often on issues of trouble, and he knew from the pale look on young William’s face that there was a problem back in the city.
“I overheard a gang of men saying they’re gonna hold up the bank! Please, Sheriff, come back! My pa’s got his whole life savings in that place.”
His mind switched gears and he turned the cart around, intent on driving them back to the city, but then he changed his mind. Although the horses trotted at a good clip, he knew that he needed something faster. “William, give me your horse and drive this cart back to town.”
Without hesitation, the boy jumped off his mount and surrendered his horse. “I’ll take good care of it Sheriff!” he promised as Jackson rode off like the wind.
Even as he raced towards town, his mind flipped back and forth between the two issues that battled for attention. Of course, the more pressing issue of a potentially dangerous situation in Bozeman took precedence, but the idea of his potential bride waiting for him in a strange city also unsettled him. Could he send a telegram from the post office? What would he say?
Still, one thing at a time. His Ranger training in full effect, Jackson pulled into town less than thirty minutes later and dismounted in front of the bank. He always carried his gun with him in case of trouble, but the restrictive suit constrained his movements and he tore the jacket off and flung it to the ground. Moving around the side of the building, he held his Colt in one hand and listened at the window for any clue of what was going on. He waited a full minute, but after hearing nothing to give him any indication of where the gang might be, he hoisted himself up to get a better look through the window.
What he saw inside threw him off-kilter. People were milling around and going about their regular business. Had he gotten here ahead of the gang? Possibly the information that William had overheard was for another day?
Holstering his gun, he entered through the front door and made a beeline for Theodore’s office.
“Jackson?” Theodore looked up from his work with concern. “Something wrong?”
Tilting his head and turning around in a full circle, Jackson scoured the bank from the manager’s office. Nothing strange was going on.
“I had a tip from someone that the bank was going to be robbed,” he murmured, not wanting to cause any alarm. “I don’t know anything more than that, but maybe it wasn’t for today.”
Jumping up from his desk, Theodore came round and stood beside his brother-in-law. “Are you sure the tip is good?” he asked anxiously, his hands bunched up into fists. “Who’d you hear it from?”
“Arthur’s boy, William. He’s a good kid. He’s got no reason to lie.”
“Don’t know what to tell you,” Jackson said finally. “Maybe the kid misheard.”
“Well, in the meantime, you’re late to pick up Miss Henderson.” Theodore scowled a bit and then walked Jackson to the door. “Where’s the trap?”
“William’s bringing it in. I’ll go find him and see if I can get more information.”
After retrieving the now dusty jacket, Jackson mounted the horse and rode out to meet William. When the boy saw him, his face tightened with anxiety.
“Didja catch them already? Is everyone okay?”
“William, I need you to tell me exactly what you heard. There’s no robbery going on now, so it must be for another time. Did you hear them say something?”
The boy’s face clouded over. “I was coming out of the mercantile and a group of men I didn’t know where talking about holding up the bank. They didn’t say when or nothing. I just thought they meant right now.”
As much as he wanted to ride into Livingston, Jackson knew he would have to investigate. He just prayed that Charlie was a resourceful woman. In the meantime, he would send a telegram asking her to find a hotel and wait for him. That was all he could do. The safety of the people came before anything else.
6
Charlie stepped off the train and attempted to locate her trunk first. When she spotted it, she quickly strode over to stand beside it and then scanned the platform for Jackson.
After ten minutes passed, she felt a trickle of anxiety crawl up her spine. She did have the day and time right. He’d sent her the ticket, so he must know it as well. Perhaps there was some sort of delay?
Sighing, she hailed a porter and asked him to bring her trunk to the front of the station. She sat on a bench and made up her mind to wait. What else could she do?
She’d been sitting there for less than ten minutes when a slim, blonde man strode up to her. “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you waiting for Mr. Jackson Davis?”
With apparent relief, she nodded her head. “Has he been delayed?”
“Ah, yes ma’am. He has. He sent me to fetch you.”
“And you are?” She believed that he must be a friend of Jackson’s, or how else would he know her? Still, she wanted to be careful.
“Name’s Johnny Kingston. I live in Bozeman and I was told to fetch you. Sheriff’s got busy with some work. He’ll explain it to you better when he sees you.”
A little unsatisfied with the explanation, Charlie scrutinized the man who continued to grin at her. Could she really trust him? Seeing she had no other option, she allowed him to take her trunk and got into the rickety-looking cart that would carry her for the three-hour trip into Bozeman. She only hoped it held up.
He gallantly helped her up to the seat and then rounded the cart and jumped up beside her. The cart tipped with his weight, but held together. She clenched her teeth and gripped the bench tightly. This was going to be a long ride.
“So, you’re from New York, right?” Johnny asked in a friendly manner. “Surprised a pretty thing like you couldn’t find a nice guy to marry out there. Hard to believe you came all this way to marry our Sheriff, such as he is.”
Taken aback that this man knew so much about her, Charlie fumbled for words even as what he’d said began to register. “Yes, well, it’s not easy. A lot of men have left the East to seek their fortunes.” She was thinking of Peter, but was not about to mention anything about Peter to this man. “What did you mean when you said, ‘such as he is?”’
“Oh, you know. He’s seems a nice enough guy, but not real steady. He only got the job because his brother-in-law pulled some strings.”
“And who,” Charlie asked through gritted teeth, “might that be?” Surely she hadn’t come over two thousand miles to meet a scoundrel of a man?
“He’s the bank manager in Bozeman. Good man, but he’s always been bailing Jackson out since he married Margaret, Jackson’s sister. Now that’s a pretty lady. Sure can see how a man would do anything for her, even help out her no-good…ah, I mean, down-on-his-luck brother.”
Charlie felt the sandwich she’d eaten earlier that day threaten to make a reappearance. What had she gotten herself into and who was this man to speak about Jackson like this?
“I’m sorry. Are you a friend of the family?”
“Nah, nothing like that. They’re too good for the likes of me. I’m just a simple blacksmith, too low to be invited to the banker’s house, but good enough to do errands like fetching people from here and there.”
Nothing was sitting right with her. The man she’d travelled to meet sounded like a rogue and a snob rolled into one. If this was the case, she might well demand that return ticket when she arrived. Still, her curiosity pushed her to ask more questions.
“And what has Jackson done that’s so bad?”
The man seemed to mull that over a bit before answering. “Well, he likes his whisky. When he can’t afford that, he’ll get into the beer pretty good. Likes women too, if you know what I mean. That’s not the worst though,” he whispered conspiratorially, seeming to forget that he was talking to the man’s intended.
“What is the worst?” she asked with trepidation. What could be worse than a drunk and a womanizer?
“He takes bribes, I hear tell. All kinds of criminals wandering around the streets who shoulda been locked up. But I guess if you got money, you can buy your way out of jail.”
Charlie didn’t know what to say. She longed to tell this man to turn the cart around, but possibly there was a mistake. She didn’t want to spend all she had if it was. And in any case, he should be the one to fund it if he’d misrepresented himself. “Are you sure about that?” Her voice came out more like a squeak and she almost didn’t recognize it.
“Yep. My brother done offered him fifty dollars to look the other way when he robbed a place, and Jackson did it too. ‘Course, my brother had to high-tail it out of Bozeman right quick, but he’s got a place up in Helena. Got some gold and a woman, I heard tell.”
Her stomach couldn’t take it anymore. “Could you stop, please?”
When he obliged her, she jumped down and gave up her lunch in the tall grass. After a few minutes, she returned to the cart and hoisted herself up. She could tell that Johnny was rather amused, but she chose not to talk to him for the remainder of the trip.
It was the longest three hours of her life.
The trap pulled up to a fine house and Johnny quickly unloaded her trunk and left. She tried to ask him to bring it up to the front door, but he suddenly appeared to be in a big hurry.
Uncertainly, she climbed the few steps and knocked on the front door. Within a few minutes, it was opened by a pleasant looking woman dressed in what appeared to be a maid’s uniform.
“Hello. Can I help you ma’am?”
“I’m looking for Jackson Davis or his sister please.” She knew that she looked a mess. Not only were her clothes travel stained, but she knew her hat was askew after her incident on the road and her hair couldn’t be in much better condition.
“Mr. Davis is not here at the moment, but Mrs. Jefferson is. Who may I say is calling?” The maid pretended not to notice how disheveled Charlie looked and treated her as though she were a fine woman. Charlie liked the maid immediately.
“My name is Charlotte Henderson. I believe they are expecting me.” She let out the breath that she’d been holding and blinked rapidly in an effort not to cry. She certainly hoped that she was expected. In some ways, she was just grateful to have arrived. Whether or not she would stay was an entirely different matter. At least it appeared that they would be able to fund her trip home.
“Miss Henderson! What a pleasure! But where is Jackson?” A lovely blonde woman rushed forward and grasped her hand. She didn’t seem to see the dirt or notice the smell that Charlie was sure emanated from her, but appeared genuinely delighted to see
her.
“Uh, I understand from Johnny somebody or other that he was detained with work? So, I suppose you don’t know where he is either?” A look of dismay crossed the other woman’s face, but she ushered Charlie into the house.
“I have no idea, but with his line of work, I can only assume it was something rather urgent. I will send someone out to track him down, but please come in and take some refreshments. Or, if you prefer, I can show you up to your room and you can rest for a while?”
This woman’s kindness was too much to bear after the horrors and strain that Charlie had endured. Exhausted physically from the train and carriage ride, and emotionally spent from the tales she’d heard on the way, Charlie couldn’t help but break down. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears and she swallowed hard.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m terribly overwhelmed. If I could wash up and lie down for a few minutes?” Her voice came out in a wobble, and the older woman clucked over her gently.
“Of course, my dear. Right this way.” Jackson’s sister escorted her upstairs to a fine room decorated in hues of peaches and cream and had her trunk brought in by one of the servants. “There’s fresh water in the basin there, and I’ll have some tea brought up to you in a few minutes. Please take your time.” She stood in the doorway wringing her hands, clearly distressed at the state of her guest. “I’m sorry, Miss Henderson--”
“Please call me Charlotte. I would like to hear my name. Better yet, Charlie.” Hearing people address her as Miss Henderson in the midst of this chaos made her feel even more unsettled. No one ever called her that.
“Of course. And please call me Margie. I hope that we will become good friends, sisters possibly one day,” she enthused. Charlie saw a spark of hope in the woman’s eyes. She seemed so sincere, and yet, if what she’d heard was true… Margie seemed hesitant to leave and indeed had a question on her mind. “Sorry to keep bothering you…Charlie, but who did you say brought you here?”