The old lawman was unnaturally patient with Peter, taking the time to show him the ins and outs of keeping the peace. He’d learned how to lasso a target in motion and was given improved tips for sharpshooting with both the pistol and the rifle. Michael wasn’t exactly fully on the straight and narrow either, and there had been more than a few occasions when his reactions to a problem hadn’t exactly been orthodox.
Even if Peter had a thousand lifetimes, he didn’t think he would ever be able to repay the kindness he had received from that man. He was the only reason why Peter hadn’t gotten strung from the tallest tree with a noose around his neck. He’d helped the residents of Santa Fe overcome their fear of the ex-outlaw and made him feel like one of them.
But he’d changed when he saw the old man lying unmoving in the black casket the town had chipped in to buy for him.
Peter shook his head adamantly as if trying to shake the very thoughts from his mind. He’d been no stranger to life and death situations during his run as an outlaw, but that didn’t mean that he was eager to find himself in more of those kinds of scrapes. Better to have some sense of safety and peace of mind rather than spending every waking moment on high alert. Besides, waking up to the sight of a man trying to draw a gun on him was what Peter used to consider exciting. It had made him feel alive and strong, but he’d gained wisdom since then. That was the kind of excitement one can only take in small doses.
Still, a chance to show your mettle to the people every now and then wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was a good way to remind the townspeople and criminals alike that he had no trouble upholding the law. Violence was not the only way for a man to settle his problems, however. Sometimes, good ‘ol diplomacy would prevail when intimidation and aggression failed.
“Sheriff! Sheriff! We have a situation!” a voice hollered from outside of the jail. Peter let out a sigh of irritation as he slowly set down the freshly brewed cup of coffee. He had just enough time to turn away from the fireplace to watch someone barge through the door of the jail.
His deputy sheriff, a young man in his early thirties by the name of Chris, leaped to his feet at the sudden entrance. He’d always been a bit of a nervous youth, and Peter had spent long hours instilling in him the importance of not allowing sudden noises to take him by surprise. The young deputy ignored all that advice in that instant, tumbling backward out of his chair and dropping his coffee cup to the ground. The shattering of china a moment later was just another reason for Peter to close his eyes in frustration.
Standing in the doorway now was a young African American boy, no older than fifteen, dressed in a rather respectable-looking, but dusty, black suit. He looked frantic, his hands gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “Sheriff, I need your help very badly.”
“What seems to be the problem, stranger?” Peter asked, doing his best to sound amicable as he picked up his coffee cup.
“We’ve been robbed, sir. Right as we were coming into Santa Fe,” the young black man said, wringing his hat in his hands nervously. “My mistress is very angry about the whole thing, and she demanded that I come to retrieve you at once.”
“So, you are a stagecoach assistant, then? That means that you guys must have had the poor luck of running into the gang of brigands that we’ve been chasing after for the last few months.” Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Still, I suppose we better get a statement either way and check on your mistress.”
“I’ll come with you,” Chris said, having finally managed to disentangle himself from his chair and return to his feet. Peter silently watched as Chris went about collecting the pile of bounty posters they’d just gotten in the mail that he’d now managed to scatter on the floor. “Wouldn’t want you to be given too much of an earful without some backup handy.”
“Thank you for your kind concern,” Peter replied sarcastically, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down on his desk. He gave it one last look of longing before pulling a hunk of beef jerky from his pocket instead.
Peter slipped one of the large chunks of pork meat that he’d prepared for breakfast into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. He glanced back at the young assistant, who was shivering where he stood in place. “Take us to your mistress.”
He almost choked on the remainder of his breakfast when he suddenly inhaled at the sight of the beautiful woman that stood before him. Bearing the tan skin of an Italian woman, her green eyes blazed like emeralds. She wore a lovely blue dress, and when she turned to face him, he was able to see that her skin was smooth and gleaming with youth. Peter silently noted that there were some hardly noticeable frown lines on her forehead and in the corners of her eyes. She must have been through some hard times; being robbed would have done little to improve her mood.
“Are you the sheriff around here?” she asked him immediately, storming toward him and standing directly in his path, forcing him to come to a somewhat awkward and abrupt halt. “I’m Melanie Thompson, the new schoolteacher, and I have just been the victim of a crime.”
“I am the purveyor of law around these parts. My name is Peter Matherson. Now, why don’t we start at the beginning?” he asked, doing his best not to come off as aloof or disinterested.
“These spineless cowards just stood by and did nothing as some good-for-nothing outlaws held up my wagon and robbed me of all of my possessions that weren’t inside of the carriage with me,” she huffed, visibly seething.
“I can certainly empathize, miss. Unfortunately, you aren’t the first to have this happen to them, and unless your drivers have some kind of lead we can go on, I’m afraid there isn’t much I’ll be able to do to help immediately,” Peter replied apologetically. “All I can do is try.”
“Try? That’s the best you can tell me? That you’ll try? Do you understand what sort of trouble I am in if my belongings aren’t recovered? Important paperwork and precious family heirlooms were among my luggage,” she said, her expression showing that her mood was only worsening by the minute.
“I assure you that we are going to do everything in our power to return your items to you. In the meantime, is there someplace that we can take you? Somewhere you’ve arranged to be? I’d be happy to escort you there to ensure that no further misfortune befalls you. We wouldn’t want you getting robbed again.” Peter smirked.
“I am glad this is all just some big joke to you! How am I supposed to take care of my expenses? I had my purse sitting inside my carpet bag, and they took that too! That held all the money I had to my name as well as my checkbooks!” she barked, tears now glittering in her eyes. He could tell she was about to start yelling again, so he took the preemptive approach and cut her off.
“Worst comes to worst, I’ll pay for you to stay in the town inn for a couple of days,” Peter said, tilting his hat to cover his eyes.
“How very generous,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And if you cannot figure out who took my possessions and retrieve them in those couple of days, what am I to do? The generosity of people only goes so far, and I am not willing to debase myself just for a place to live.”
“I promise you that you will not be required to debase yourself,” Peter said, casting a sideways glance over at Chris. “You are being truly ridiculous. Your fears are unfounded at best. We aren’t a bunch of slack jaws around here. We take our work very seriously, don’t we, Chris?”
“I hope for both of our sakes that is true, Sheriff,” she said shortly, turning her head away from him.
“Chris, could you be so kind as to escort Miss Thompson here to the local eatery? Tell Hank it’s on me, she can have what she likes. Also, see if you can get in touch with Miranda Daisley and see if she would be willing to put her up a couple of days. I’ve got an investigation to do,” Peter said, walking away before the woman had a chance to say anything else.
Chapter 3
This is all just great! It was bad enough that she was sore and exhausted from the lengthy trip and she hadn’t been
able to even enter the city limits before being robbed. Then, to make matters worse, the sheriff didn’t seem all that interested in solving the crime. How exactly was he planning on handling it? How could she calm down when robbed of literally everything of value she owned?
Those robbers could have gotten a good distance away, so tracks would be sparse. The few tracks that they would be able to find would be hard to distinguish from the tracks left by the general coming and going of wagons and horses. For all she knew, her luggage was already being divided up amongst the robbers and was on its way to be hawked at the nearest general store for whatever they could get for it.
I couldn’t be more frazzled from the whole ordeal if I tried. I’ve already given my driver enough of an earful that his head will be ringing for weeks, and I made it very clear that I was hell-bent on complaining to the carriage company about this.
“I truly am sorry for all of this, Miss Thompson.” The coachman had made his way back from giving his side of the story to the deputy, his hat held tightly and nervously in his right hand. “I was outnumbered ten to one. If I had so much as reached for my pistol, they would have pumped me and the boy full of lead. With us out of the way, they probably would have taken their time to search the carriage. I can only imagine what they would have done had they found you alone.”
“Next time, you should be armed with a little more than a six-shooter when you are carrying hundreds of dollars’ worth of property with you,” she said coldly. “This all happened because of you and your assistant’s cowardice.”
“I understand your anger, Miss Thompson,” the old black carriage driver said softly, his eyes staring down at the ground. “We can help the sheriff find your things if you’d like.”
“No, I don’t think you’ll be able to offer much help. Just make sure that you don’t leave town for the next couple of days. I want time to pen the letter that I will be sending back with you to the owner,” she snapped, noting how deflated the older man seemed to be.
She begrudgingly allowed herself to be shepherded by the young deputy into the nearby diner, where a stout, brown-haired man with a wild and unkempt beard was standing behind the front counter. He was in the middle of wiping a stack of wet glasses dry with a dishrag that was beginning to grow threadbare, whistling tunelessly all the while. His simple black vest looked like it would burst open any moment around his massive gut, and when one of his fellow workers whispered something in his ear that made him laugh, it looked like someone was shaking a platter of gelatin.
“I got a new customer here for you, Hank. Sheriff says you are supposed to treat this one real nice and have her tab combined with his. He’ll pay for whatever she has,” he said with a smile, turning in Melanie’s direction. “Miss Thompson, I really am sorry that you have been subjected to such a terrible event here in our own beloved little slice of home. But I can guarantee you this: we take what happened today very seriously, and we will not rest until we can give you some sort of closure to this whole mess.”
“What mess?” Hank’s voice was deep with a distinct Texan drawl; a few of his top front teeth were missing. “Not another stagecoach robbery, I hope.”
“Are you telling me this is a common occurrence?” Melanie asked, rage slowly welling up inside of her once more.
“Oh, not at all. If anything, this is highly unusual for these parts. However, this town has been no stranger to crime in the past, and people have memories that are a lot longer than they would like you to believe,” he said simply, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll keep a helpful ear out, and if anyone happens to mention something questionable, I’ll get in touch with you.”
“You seem to have eyes and ears all around this town, so having your help would truly be of great assistance,” Chris said, unable to conceal his goofy grin. “I’ll go reconvene with the sheriff. In the meantime, please attend to Miss Thompson here.”
“Oh, come on now, gents,” a voice said from behind Melanie, causing her to turn her head to look. She was greeted with the sight of a cheerful-looking woman in what looked to be her early thirties, her stomach swollen in the telltale signs of a late pregnancy. She had curly brown hair that fell in graceful swirls down to her shoulders, her amber-brown eyes twinkling with genuine warmth. She looked to be white, albeit with the distinctive tan that came from living in such a hot climate. “A town diner is no place for a young woman to sit all on her own.”
“Ah, Iris. It is good to see that you and the baby seem healthy,” Chris said pleasantly. “How much longer?”
“I feel as though it's a matter of weeks now,” Iris replied, rubbing her belly absently.
“How many is this now?” Hank asked from behind the counter, setting down his dry glass and picking up a wet one.
“This will be John and mine’s seventh,” Iris said proudly.
“And here is to our continued good fortune and family’s good health,” said a clean-shaven man with dark brown hair and blue eyes as he stepped forward, resting his hand on Iris’ shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without this wonderful woman at my side.”
“Oh, John, you flatterer,” Iris said playfully, smacking her hand softly against her husband’s chest. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, a faint sheen of sweat visible on his forehead until he wiped it away with the handkerchief from his front pocket.
“Flatterers speak lies rather than truth. I speak truth rather than lies, and my compliments are genuine,” John shot back with a grin before turning his attention to Melanie.
“My wife is absolutely right. Having you sit around bored in a shop like a child whose parents have left it unattended would be a poor welcoming from a hospitable town such as ours. Why don’t you come with my wife and me to our house? You can stay with us for a bit until the sheriff has a chance to try to retrieve your belongings, and then we can get you where you need to go. What brings you to town?”
“I answered an ad in the newspaper that said there was a teaching position open here that needed to be filled immediately. As I had no prior obligations that kept me tethered to where I was, I figured making a new life for myself wouldn’t be too bad of a decision,” Melanie said slowly, choosing her words carefully.
“That is all the more reason why you should come stay with us. Iris here is the schoolmarm that you are going to be replacing,” John said, noting the look of surprise that managed to splash across Melanie’s features for a brief instant.
“I wouldn’t want to make myself a burden,” Melanie replied with uncertainty. “I don’t know how long it will take to reclaim my things. And with how large your family sounds, I wouldn’t want to add to your stresses.”
“Nonsense,” John said with a booming laugh. “We have more than what our family needs; I made sure of that. You’ll come home with us, and we won’t hear another word to the contrary.”
“But what if I never find the money to be able to pay you back?” Melanie choked out, the overwhelming kindness she was being faced with nearly bringing her to tears. She hadn’t been treated this well by anyone since her father had passed on.
John looked her directly in the eyes, the seriousness in his tone matching the expression on his face. “It is a favor, not a loan. I expect no repayment. Now, enough of this talk of debts. Let’s get some food in your belly, and then we’ll take you back to the house to get settled in.”
Chapter 4
After he’d left Chris to escort the beautiful spitfire off to the eatery, he’d made his way with both the stagecoach driver and his assistant back to the spot where the robbery had taken place. He could make out five pairs of tracks side by side on either side of the road, which somewhat corroborated the driver’s report that there had been ten robbers. Taking care not to disturb the hoof prints, Peter carefully walked around the tracks and inspected the dirt on either side of the road.
He noticed that both the driver and assistant were strangely quiet as he worked, and when he glanced over in their direction, both were looking downtrodden.
“I know how you feel, fellas, but this isn’t your fault. Despite how much Miss Thompson hollered at you, I understand that it must have been a frightening situation,” Peter said as he knelt in the dirt.
“It simply surprised us to hear her yelling so loudly, is all,” the assistant said sheepishly. “She was such a quiet and polite little thing for the majority of the ride here.”
“How long have you two known Miss Thompson?” Peter asked, his finger tracing along the deep ruts on the dirt road that their carriage had made.
“Only for a month or so. We met her the day she chartered our coach, and we hadn’t heard of her beforehand. Our proprietor told us that we were to take care of her like she was royalty, and we did our best to do that,” Charlie replied.
“How old did the men sound?” Peter took a couple of steps out into the sandy dirt nearby and halted when he felt his boot tap against something hard.
The Path To Tame a Wild Heart: A Historical Western Romance Novel Page 21