A Sheriff's Fugitive Bride

by Blythe Carver

  Several men gathered, lifting him under the careful guidance of the doctor. “Easy, now. Watch his head. Somebody clear off his desk, we’ll use that for now. I need light!”

  She was about to follow them, but a stranger held her back. A kindly, older woman.

  “No, my dear. The doctor knows what’s best. You shouldn’t watch.”

  “But—”

  “She’s right,” another one agreed—then, “Martha. Someone should fetch Martha.”

  Martha! Phoebe sank to the ground, her face in her hands, weeping for Martha and Jesse and Rance and knowing it was all her fault. Everything. The man had tried to shoot her and wound up shooting Rance. Rance had people who needed him. He was important.

  “Phoebe? What is all this?”

  She looked up at the sound of a familiar voice and was weak with relief at the sight of Lewis.

  “What happened here?” He gasped when he took in the full sight of her.

  “Oh, Lewis.”

  He helped her to her feet, and she leaned against the jailhouse fall for support.

  “Lewis, he’s going to die, and I want to die, too. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  “Phoebe!” Molly’s scream startled her out of this line of thought. She climbed from the wagon across the street and ran to them. “Phoebe! You’re hurt!”

  “I’m not hurt. It’s him. Rance. He…” She burst into fresh tears and leaned on her older sister.

  One of the men who’d witnessed the event told Lewis and Molly of it while Phoebe cried until she didn’t have the strength to cry any longer.

  Martha came on the run only moments later, her skin nearly grey and her eyes red-rimmed. “Where is he?” She ran straight into the jailhouse before anyone could answer.

  “You need to sit down,” Molly decided. “I’m worried you’ll faint and hurt yourself.” She led her to the buggy and sat her inside.

  “Molly, if he dies…”

  Molly stroked the hair back from her face and brushed dirt from her shoulders and arms. It seemed silly, seeing as how the front of her dress was caked in drying blood. She was only keeping herself busy, Phoebe knew. “Nonsense. He won’t die.”

  “You didn’t see him. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand men like him. They’re tough. He’s tough. He won’t die just because of a bullet. Not when he has things to live for. People to live for.” Molly sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Phoebe leaned against her. “You love him, don’t you?”

  “Most terribly.”

  “What does he feel for you?”

  “He told me…” She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry anymore. If he lived and wanted to see her, she didn’t want him to know she’d been crying. “He told me he loves me.”

  “He loves you. He won’t leave you so easily.” Molly rocked her back and forth. “There, there. All will be well.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I had to come to town today. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

  They sat there for a long time, with Phoebe pointedly avoiding looking at the blood on the sidewalk and Molly telling her of everything she’d missed at home, until Martha stepped out of the jailhouse and leaned against the stone wall.

  Phoebe leaped from the buggy. “What is it? Is he…?”

  Martha took her hands. “He’s alive. The doctor believes he’ll be well, but he needs quite a lot of rest to recover. He lost a great deal of blood, and there’s still chance of infection, so we’ll have to keep a close watch on him.”

  She didn’t know if she should jump for joy or dissolve onto the sidewalk. She settled for falling into Martha’s arms, and the two of them rejoiced and comforted each other all at once.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered again and again. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t gotten in the way—”

  “Nonsense.” Martha held her at arm’s length, her eyes hard. “I don’t want to hear you ever saying something like that again. You didn’t do this. The man with the gun did. He shot my brother when he was intending to shoot you. You didn’t make him do anything. It was his choice. Just as it was Rance’s choice to keep you from being hurt.”

  “Martha, I… We…”

  “Oh, I know,” she chuckled, hugging Phoebe again. “You don’t think I have eyes? The two of you glancing at each other across the breakfast table, smiling when you didn’t think I saw. Like a couple of schoolchildren with a secret. I’m glad of it, I truly am. He needs you.”

  “I need him.”

  Martha grinned. “Well, just make certain he doesn’t get a big head about it.”

  Less than an hour later, the doctor led four men out of the jailhouse. Between them was a makeshift stretcher. Rance’s eyes were closed. “He’s unconscious,” the doctor informed her when he caught sight of her alarmed expression. “I gave him a little something for the pain. He’ll need it by the time we get him home and in bed.”

  Martha went on ahead to warn Jesse, while Phoebe chose to walk with the men who carried Rance. Molly walked with her, the two of them holding hands the entire way. Had she ever thought poorly of her sister? She couldn’t recall why she’d done it now, with Molly providing such comfort in these trying moments.

  “Peepsy!” Jesse exclaimed on seeing her in the front yard, his eyes as round as saucers when he took in the state of her ruined dress. The poor boy’s face went pale, making his freckles stand out darker than ever.

  She sank to her knees. “I’m unharmed,” she promised him. “Your uncle made sure I wasn’t hurt. He was very, very brave today.”

  “Mama told me about it. Did he really jump in front of a man who was gonna shoot somebody?”

  Wise Martha. Better he didn’t know she was the one about to be shot. “That’s right. Because your uncle is the bravest man in the world. He didn’t care that he might get hurt. All he wanted to do was protect somebody, because that’s the sort of man he is. And we should all be very proud of him, and glad that we know him and love him.”

  “Mama said he’s gonna be sick for a while.” His little forehead creased in thought. “Is that so?”

  “I’m afraid it is. He’ll need a good deal of time before he gets better. We mustn’t bother him too much. He’ll have to sleep a lot, especially at first. But soon he’ll be back up on his feet. You know how strong he is.” She cupped the side of his face in one hand. “Everything will be all right now.”

  His eyes lit up. “Maybe I can read him stories when it’s time for him to go to sleep!”

  Phoebe laughed and kissed his forehead. “I know he would love that.”

  “Phoebe?” Martha motioned for her to come. “He’s settled in now, and awake. And he wants to see you. He won’t believe me when I tell him you’re unhurt.”

  Phoebe made haste, taking the stairs two at a time and hurtling herself down the hall. The doctor was by the bed, listening to Rance’s heart when she entered the room.

  “I’m here,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers as she knelt by the bed.

  He smiled, eyes closed. “You hurt?”

  “Not at all, thanks to you. Don’t you remember? You asked me outside the jailhouse. I told you I wanted you to know something, and I wanted you to hear me. Do you remember what it was?”

  He frowned, concentrating. She supposed there was a good chance he’d already been near unconsciousness when they spoke.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him, kissing his knuckles before resting her cheek on the back of his hand. In spite of the doctor’s presence, she couldn’t hold back. Not when she’d come so close to never having the chance to say it while he heard her. “I told you I love you.”

  A slow smile spread. “Now I have a witness, and you can’t take it back.”

  “You remembered all the time!” she chided, her face flushing with embarrassment.

  The doctor chuckled. Now that the panic had subsided, he struck her as a kind old man. “I won’t tell a soul,” he whisp
ered, holding a finger to his lips while packing his leather bag.

  Rance looked at her, smiling in spite of the pain which etched itself into every line of his face. “I had to take the chance while I had it.”

  “I suppose I can’t fault you for that. I’m just so glad you made it through.”

  He scoffed, though jokingly. “Do you think I would go through all this trouble, taking a bullet for you, just to die? I had to stay alive so we could be together and you could keep driving me to distraction.”

  “You’re the one who drives me to distraction.”

  “Let’s say we both do it to each other,” he suggested with a wink. Then, he winced.

  “You’d better sleep.” While she hated leaving him even for a moment, he would need time. She’d warned Jesse of this, hadn’t she? It was only a matter of following her own words and giving him the chance to heal.

  “You’ll be here when I wake?” he murmured, eyes sliding shut.

  She leaned over him, pressing her lips to his forehead before whispering in his ear. “I’ll be here always, my love. You’ll never be rid of me now.”

  One corner of his mouth twisted up in a grin. “That’s… how I want it…”

  25

  Rance scowled at the man sitting across from him in the parlor. He’d taken pains to present himself well in spite of the pain which still plagued him and the cursed weakness which was sometimes a problem a week after his gunshot.

  What was the purpose of all that effort if he couldn’t get what he wanted?

  “There were no allowances in the will for anything such as this.” J.J. Brown, the lawyer in charge of Richard Reed’s estate, placed his coffee cup on the table a bit harder than he probably needed to. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “You mean to tell me if I want to marry this woman, there’s nothing to be done until her year on the ranch is up? I have to wait another ten months?”

  “It would appear that way—though the total is closer to nine, now, than to ten.”

  Rance wondered if the man knew how lucky he was that the six-shooter was in its holster, clear across the room. He felt ready to blow this lawyer’s head off. Smug, arrogant. Thinking he knew it all. He held their future in his hands and yet refused to be reasonable.

  He took a slow, long breath before speaking, that he might avoid offending the man. “It does not say anywhere in that document that the daughters can’t be married. What did Richard think would happen if one or more of them were already married, with a family, by the time he died?”

  J.J.’s eyes widened behind his spectacles.

  “Do you think it would’ve been advisable to have a married woman come all this way, with her children in tow? Or should she have left them behind, along with her husband and her home?” he challenged. “You’re the one managing how the estate is handed over, or however you want to say it. I don’t know much about these things. What I do know is that it was up to you to make sure there was some other plan in place in case one or more of the girls was already married, or decided to get married after she came here.”

  “You could simply move onto the ranch,” the lawyer suggested.

  “Oh, yes, that would be an idea. I could quit my job as sheriff, finish supporting my sister and nephew and move all the way out there.”

  “It’s just a suggestion, sir.”

  “I suggest you find a way around this, and soon. I won’t have her or her sisters suffering because I happen to love her, but I don’t like the notion of her moving back out there and being apart for ten—forgive me, nine months.”

  “What if she splits her time?” J.J. suggested. “Half of the week here, half of the week at the ranch. I realize it isn’t ideal,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the protestations Rance was about to deliver, “but for now, since you seem to be in such a hurry, that’s the best I can do. I shall have to look this over with a judge and discuss it with my partners. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize the futures of those young women.”

  “Considering that I plan on marrying one of them, it seems like we’re on the same side.” Though it certainly didn’t feel that way.

  “I shall do my best. For now, please, do get better soon. I understand you had a close call.”

  “That it was. You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand to show you to the door.”

  “Not at all.” No, it seemed the lawyer was glad to show himself out. He certainly wasted no time doing so.

  Rance winced as he adjusted himself in the chair. This might have been an ill-conceived idea, coming downstairs to meet with the lawyer. Martha would have his hide, as would Phoebe when she found out. She was visiting with her sisters but would return in the morning, while Martha visited with a friend and took Jesse along.

  All of this at his insistence. “A man can’t think straight with the lot of you hovering over me all the time!” he’d grumbled. Truly, it did his heart good to know his sister was getting out into the world again, and it did Phoebe good to see her family. He wanted that for her.

  He wanted the world for her, including what was coming to her as a daughter of Richard Reed. And he would have waited the rest of his life if it came down to that, only he didn’t want to if he didn’t have to. What man would want to wait nearly a year to marry the woman he loved when it was as simple as going up before the judge and offering vows?

  Jesse’s voice carried into the house from outside, and Rance groaned. He hadn’t expected them home so soon.

  “Uncle Rance!” Jesse ran across the room as if he was preparing to throw himself at his uncle, but stopped short—to Rance’s relief. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “Why aren’t you in bed?” Martha demanded when she entered the house. “What are you doing down here? Why does it smell like coffee? Why are you dressed?”

  “So many questions,” he grimaced. “I had a meeting.”

  “Ah.” She folded her arms, pursing her lips. “I see. Encouraging me to leave the house was all a ploy to have the place to yourself, so you could conduct a secret meeting.”

  “Ooh, you have a secret?” Jesse asked, jumping up and down. “What is it?”

  “I would tell you, but I know you would give me away,” Rance winked.

  “Aw, gee.”

  “You need to wash up, young man,” Martha chided. “And change out of those dirty clothes. I need to get supper on. After I talk with your uncle and help him back upstairs.”

  “Aw, gee,” he pouted. At least he got her to laugh.

  “What is it, then?” She sat beside him in one of the wingback chairs before the window, leaning in. “What was this meeting about? Something to do with Mr. Nielsen?”

  “Oh, no. He’s no longer a problem. It’s unfortunate, but he did shoot a lawman while trying to shoot an innocent woman. We won’t have to worry about him any longer.”

  “What was it, then?”

  Rance looked across the room, toward Jesse’s bedroom door. It was still partially open, but he heard his nephew playing. He wasn’t listening to them. “I was meeting with the lawyer in charge of Richard Reed’s estate.”

  “Whatever for?”

  This might come as a shock, or it might make her incredibly happy. He still wasn’t certain which. “I wanted to know for certain whether the estate would be in jeopardy if one of the girls married and moved off the land.”

  Martha’s eyelids fluttered. She straightened in her chair. Her hands clasped tight in her lap. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Only if you promise not to fly off the handle,” he replied with trepidation.

  “Fly off the handle?” She threw her arms around his neck. “I’ve never been so happy!”

  “Oh, that’s a relief to hear,” he laughed. “For a moment I thought you were angry!”

  “Angry? Why would I be angry? Oh, you don’t know how I prayed for this!” She squeezed tight enough that he saw spots before his eyes before finally loosening her hold. “I wa
nted this so much for you.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” She pulled back to frown down at him. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “Would you want to live with another woman in the house, permanently?”

  She knelt beside him. “Let’s get one thing straight. While you’ll never know how much it’s meant to me, having you here when I needed you most, I won’t have you putting your life off to the side for my sake. I want you to be happy.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself and my boy. Maybe I’ll take in boarders—women, of course. Young ones. No one who will bring bad habits into my house. You ought to have a home of your own, for you and your wife.”

  “If I can’t marry her now, there’s no sense in any of this coming to pass.”

  “And why wouldn’t you be able to marry her now?”

  “If J.J. Brown can’t find a way to let her off that ranch, I’ll have to wait ten months!”

  She pondered this. “Who’s to say you couldn’t marry her anyway? What does it matter where you live? Yes, I know a married couple wants to be together in the early days, especially, but perhaps she could spend part of her time here, in town.”

  “That’s exactly what he suggested.”

  “There you go. It seems like there aren’t any problems here. Now, I must insist you go to bed.” She helped him to his feet in her efficient manner and ushered him upstairs, where she helped him change into a nightshirt.

  “I can dress myself, woman.”

  “Not without tearing your wound, brother. You’ll be no sort of husband to the girl if you’re fighting infection, you know.”

  That was enough to silence him. If it meant being the husband Phoebe deserved, he would allow his sister to take care of him despite the blow to his pride.

  He fell into a deep sleep then. Even a slight bit of exertion exhausted him, it seemed.

  When he woke, he wasn’t alone. Phoebe sat by the bed, reading a book. “What are you doing here?” he asked, wondering if this was a dream. He’d dreamed about her ever since his eyes closed. About their wedding, their future.