The Sheriff's Rebellious Bride (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  I would need to tell Jeremy what happened to Elsa in the first place. She did not know if she had it in her to do such a thing. Speaking with Father Mathew was different since she was filled with adrenaline at the time. Things changed afterward, once she calmed and realized her new reality.

  You must, she snapped at herself. If she couldn't speak with Jeremy, then she wouldn't be able to speak with Sheriff as well. Geraldine was certain he would come, eventually, to speak with her and her mother since they knew Elsa the best; she needed to practice to avoid making a fool of herself.

  She would’ve liked to plan each movement more with each passing step. Either it was a good one or she was too sleep-deprived to recognize otherwise. This monstrosity that happened to Elsa shook Geraldine and her mother to the core and that meant she couldn't in her good conscience stay idle and away. She wanted- no needed—to do something to help in any way possible.

  Maybe she was being silly. There was a good chance she would be laughed at for offering her assistance. Geraldine was quite determined, and her morals demanded action, no matter what. She was used to being underestimated, it did not stop her from doing what needed to be done so far, and it wasn't going to stop her in the future. Elsa was family, if not by blood then by choice, love, and affection, which meant everything to Geraldine.

  “Please, Elsa, no,” her mother murmured, stirring again, clearly having troubled dreams herself.

  Geraldine sighed, moving closer to her, patting her hair, saying soft, soothing things to her mother, and she calmed immediately. Geraldine wished those same words worked on her, as well. Looking at her mother, Geraldine couldn't even start to contemplate about the consequences Elsa's death would have on her. She worried this would keep her up not only tonight but every night, indefinitely.

  If they discovered who was responsible for this heinous crime, then perhaps that would give both of them some peace of mind. Or so Geraldine hoped.

  I shall definitely go and see Father Mathew tomorrow and see what I can do to help, for all our sakes. Looking at the window, she discovered how tomorrow had already arrived. Still, with that concrete plan on her mind, Geraldine finally managed to fall asleep even for a little bit. It was a dreamless slumber, far from peaceful.

  * * *

  “A snake in our midst? Please do not say that, Sheriff.” Father Mathew crossed himself as if trying to ward off evil by that act. Robert wasn't intentionally trying to be cruel, he simply learned a long time ago it was for the best if he was completely honest with people around him. At first, they would act shocked just as Father Mathew was. In the long run, they would be grateful Robert did not try to conceal anything. Information that was of vital importance to the case was the exception, of course.

  “It's the truth,” Robert replied simply.

  “That is one terrifying notion, Sheriff, I must admit.”

  “But not uncommon,” Robert countered. Father Mathew refrained from replying. His expression spoke volumes, he agreed with what Robert said if somewhat reluctantly.

  Truth can be hard.

  Checking the time, Robert discovered it was rather late, and he needed to find a place for the night to get some rest, if he was going to get up bright in the morning and continue with his investigation.

  “Father?” He inquired since it looked like Father got lost in his thoughts for a moment.

  “Yes?”

  “I believe I kept you out and about far too long, but if I may ask for one more favor?”

  “Certainly, Sheriff! You do not even have to ask, I am at your disposal.”

  “Thank you. Could you just point me toward an inn or a place where I could rest for the night?” Robert was certain he could have found it on his own if he started roaming about Main Street. Truth be told, he was a bit worn down, and was looking for a shortcut.

  Father Mathew made an apologetic face. “I'm afraid Oatman does not have such an establishment. There was one, but it went out of business.”

  Perfect. For a moment, Robert forgot this was a rather small town and without people coming here to visit it, there was no point in having a hotel. “I see,” was all he said in return.

  Robert was certain he could rent a room in a saloon this town did have, and it would come with some company as well, yet he shuddered from that idea. He never judged men that frequented those types of places, but that was not something he enjoyed. At the same time, he started to wonder, where did his deputies sleep, especially Deputy Bane, when visiting? He banished that thought immediately. He really did not have to know everything.

  Seeing no alternative, he came to a decision. Well, I guess I will have to sleep under the stars. It wouldn't be the first time, and occasionally, Robert even enjoyed something like that. He just wished he knew beforehand so he could pack some additional things, and not simply rely on what was in his saddle bags.

  “Do not worry, Sheriff,” Father Mathew snapped him from his reverie. “You are most welcome to be my guest. I'm afraid my accommodations are rather limited since I do not require much, but I can offer you a warm bed and some supper.”

  Robert nodded in agreement, grateful. “I do not require anything else. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. After all, you came all this way to help us, this is the least I could do for you in return.”

  Robert did not know what to say to that in return, so he remained silent. “This way, please.” Luckily, Father Mathew gestured, and Robert started following him. They did not have far to walk, since Father Mathew lived in a small cottage next to the church. As he explained, his place was rather simple, clean and warm, and that was the only thing that mattered to Robert, at the moment.

  They ate in silence. Robert knew very well what was on Father Mathew's mind since it was on his own as well. For that reason, he decided not to press the father for more information about Elsa, seeing as he needed some time to process everything. They would have plenty of time to speak in the future. Also, Robert was fairly certain Father Mathew was not his murderer. Only time and thorough investigation would prove if he was right. “Thank you for this meal, Father, it was delicious.”

  Father Mathew offered a genuine smile in return. “One of my hobbies,” he explained. “I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

  Robert was about to excuse himself and retire for the night when he remembered something. “May I ask for some pen and paper?”

  “Of course.” Father Mathew took a few sheets of paper from a small bureau and a pen, handing everything to him.

  “Much obliged.”

  After that, Father Mathew said his good night and went to bed, Robert did the same. Before actually sleeping, he needed to do one more thing. Despite feeling tired, Robert sat at the table, near the candlelight and started to write. He had some thoughts about this case, observations, and he wanted to make sure he put everything on the paper simply so he wouldn't forget anything. That was his standard practice, proven to be quite useful.

  It was too early to tell who could be a potential killer, since he didn't speak to anybody, that was on tomorrow's agenda; however, he was certain this was not the deed of a group of bandits. Firstly, because there was no known group in the vicinity and secondly, as he previously said to the Father, bandits would leave havoc in their wake.

  More to the point, Elsa Potter had a stable full of horses, and that was something no group of outlaws would leave behind. The manner of her death was yet another reason Robert believed his theory was true and that was why he told Father Mathew someone from Oatman committed this crime.

  Robert planned on speaking with Elsa's friend, Stephanie, tomorrow, despite what Father told him, and with her daughter, Geraldine. He wanted to get a sense of Elsa, learn her habits and what she was like since Father Mathew told him she did not have any family members and remained unwed. That certainly couldn't be easy in a small town where gossip can make or break a person.

  Robert wrote two names on top of his list. He would definitely start his interviews with Stephanie and Gerald
ine Laurel. They could be of great assistance to him to shed some light into Elsa's life and maybe share pieces of information that were not known to all. He was also intrigued to hear what Stephanie had to say about the discovery of Elsa's body. Since she was the first on the scene, maybe she saw or heard something that could be of vital importance.

  Maybe she even saw the killer and that was why Father Mathew was so protective of her, he continued to speculate. Robert did not abandon the possibility of her being the killer. As far as he was concerned everybody was a suspect until proven otherwise.

  Either way, he would learn everything he needed to tomorrow, and he would not rest, feeling quite intrigued about this whole case, until he resolved it and caught the person who did it.

  Chapter Nine

  Getting up the next morning, Robert dressed in a hurry, made sure to collect the papers he wrote the previous night, and went in search of his host. Father Mathew must have already left, visiting some parishioners or doing his duties inside a church, he thought to himself, finding the small house empty. However, a breakfast awaited him on the table and Robert was genuinely touched and grateful for it, since he was a bit hungry.

  That was very thoughtful of him. He was starting to get fond of the old priest. Quickly finishing with his meal, Robert debated if he should go in search of Father Mathew to say thank you for his hospitality and start with his day. This was a small town so he figured they would run into one another, eventually, so Robert exited the house to find a post office.

  Locating it wasn't that difficult since Main Street wasn't that long. The place was also a bank, and most of the people were surprised to see him there. The clerk writing his telegram was no different. Robert sent word to his friend Dr. Carmichael to come to Oatman at once to examine the body. He didn't get into details, fully knowing the rumors were about to spread either way.

  Not wanting to wait around and simply twiddle his thumbs until the doctor arrived, Robert decided to visit Elsa Potter's home and do a more thorough search of the crime scene. Things could look differently in the daylight, and he hoped he would see or find something he missed the first time around.

  That would also give him a chance to learn more about the victim firsthand, and not from secondary sources. Friends and family were good if available, yet Robert believed this was the best way to go. People could be highly unreliable, not because their intentions were rotten but simply because everybody tended to perceive reality a bit differently. So, he hoped Elsa herself would tell him the most about Elsa.

  Duke remembered the way, so Robert did not have to correct him much on the way there, and simply let his thoughts roam free for a while. One short ride later, he arrived at the Black Tail Ranch. The place looked quite nice, so he decided to look around for a bit before entering the house. Maybe the killer made a mistake on arrival or departure and left some valuable clue for him.

  Finding nothing, Robert went inside Elsa's home. The smells that he missed the first time around hit him hard this time. The house smelled of dust, spoiled food and something else. Robert remembered the priest mentioning Elsa was sick for the past couple of months and stopped visiting Oatman, preferring to stay at the ranch with her horses. Case to point, there was a bucket with dried vomit inside that stood next to an armchair, so that was it. The place reeked of sickness with just a dash of death. Confident he detected all he could, Robert opened a few windows, letting the clean air in, simply so he could work more easily and not get a headache.

  In the living room, he found a bureau that held trophies and all kinds of mementos that were clearly very dear to her. He moved past it; he would return for that later since he wanted to visit the place of the murder first. Entering the kitchen, Robert really concentrated on the scene in front of him, not wanting to miss anything.

  This room gave out the same sense as the rest of the house. It was clear a person resided here alone, and despite best efforts, there were signs of neglect, which was consistent with the fact that Elsa was sick. Robert tried to stay detached while working on a case, any case, yet it was hard not to feel sympathetic toward this woman.

  She was a sickly woman who was already struggling in her everyday life when this happened to her; still, Robert decided not to dwell on that. Life was full of mysteries and tragedies alike and he was not competent enough to resolve them. So he concentrated on what he could resolve, like this murder.

  Moving deeper inside, it was clear that some kind of a fight occurred here. A table was a bit askew as if someone hit or was thrown into it, and some of the dishes were scattered, broken, on the floor. He looked for signs of blood on them. Sadly, there were none. It would be fortunate to discover his killer had a scratch mark on him. Robert was not that lucky, so he continued with his search.

  Robert crouched down, trying to picture the scene inside his mind. He knew how Elsa was found, so he tried to imagine her getting like that. The killer was obviously on top of her at some point, striking the final blow, so to speak. Robert was confident enough to assume they did not start that way. They fought, Elsa resisted to the best of her abilities; unfortunately, at some point her strength abandoned her, and the killer used that weakness to subdue and ultimately kill her.

  She put up one hell of a fight though, good for her. Preparing to rise, something caught his eye, and Robert moved more closely toward the wall that was covered with shelves that held everyday cooking supplies. Underneath it, on the floor, was a glove.

  He picked it up. It was a regular leather glove that ranchers wore so as not to get rope burns on their hands while working about. Robert scooted more closely, looking for the other one but couldn't find it. It's just the one.

  He frowned, inspecting it. Did this belong to Elsa, and she simply misplaced it, or is this what the killer used? He mused because he was certain his killer wore them. The rope Elsa was strangled with was too clean, without blood, apart from some traces that were clearly from Elsa's fighting for survival. If the killer was barehanded, then there would be a lot more blood on it since the rope was quite hazardous for the skin, also that would make his job easier if he simply had to look for a person with wrapped hands. Alas, God did not believe Robert should resolve this that easily. Still, he took the leather glove with him, placing it in one of his vest's pockets.

  He spent the next quarter of an hour in a similar fashion, searching every inch of the kitchen, looking for additional clues and finding nothing useful, which was quite disappointing. Robert discovered that Elsa liked to drink a very distinct brand of tea and had a bit of a sweet tooth, unfortunately, that was all he discovered. On the other hand, it wasn't as if he was expecting to see the murderer's name written with Elsa's blood on a piece of paper she would be clutching in her fist for him to find. That kind of thing happened only in fictional books, and bad ones at that.

  Somewhat satisfied with what he learned at that moment, he returned to the living area. He was intrigued by that bureau. On it were displayed serious accomplishments in one very specific field, rodeo riding; and they were all named to one Eli Potter.

  Since Miss Elsa was unmarried, Robert wondered who that person could be. Is that Elsa's brother? he mused. Father Mathew did not mention she had one, though. The evidence in front of him suggested that one Eli Potter was a professional rodeo rider, and a very successful one at that.

  Suddenly, he stumbled upon a newspaper article that was moved away, almost hidden from the rest of the mementos, and it painted a rather different picture from one he constructed. The article expressed an outrage that a woman disguised as a man entered a competition and more than once. Not only entered it but won as well, Robert added. Elsa Potter was Eli Potter, Robert realized, and couldn't help but smile. Good for her.

  The rest of the article did not provide anything new apart from blaming her for breaking the rules. The results she managed to achieve despite being a woman were completely ignored. She was publicly shamed for her accomplishments, which Robert found quite idiotic. He never quite unde
rstood why some bans existed.

  Why can't a woman be a rodeo rider? They were the fairer sex that needed to be looked after, that was true, nevertheless, Robert was also aware mothers were fierce and more terrible creatures than men could ever be if their children were in some kind of danger or under attack. Their love and devotion were so great, it made them quite formidable in the eyes of danger, turning them into far more deadly beings than even criminals were.

  So, it stood to reason that the same force that unleashed such kind of behavior could be used to something else. Perhaps someday there will be a woman sheriff, he thought to himself with amusement. That last bit made him laugh. He would love to see, even meet, a woman who would want to do this job willingly, go on long rides, on hunts with the deputies, sleep under the stars, and shoot the bad guys and not simply get married and raise children. That would certainly make his day. He was not convinced that kind of a woman existed, especially among the ones he already knew.

  Snapping back from his little daydreaming, Robert continued to roam about, learning as much as possible about Elsa Potter along the way. As far as he could piece it together, she led a rather fascinating life. She had a small study upstairs where he found all kinds of legal documents for the farm and also for a local saloon. Interesting. There were some letters, too; he didn't dwell on those since they were standard affairs regarding ranch business.