While they goofed around, somebody started knocking against their front door. It was fairly early in the morning and Owen frowned, getting back up on his feet, wondering who it could be.
People always sought after him at home if they needed some kind of assistance and he wasn’t at the Sheriff’s office, so this was nothing unusual.
Opening the door, Owen saw the familiar face of one of his deputies on the other side of the screen.
“Good morning, Kit,” Owen greeted him.
Kit frowned while looking at him. “What happened to you?” He demanded, waving toward his head.
Owen patted his hair back, feeling a bit self-conscious. “June trimmed my hair,” Owen explained.
Kit nodded. “It looks...nice,” he replied slowly.
Owen decided not to comment on that since it was clearly bait. He put a hat on his head, preparing to leave the house and Kit grinned. “Much better.”
I knew he wanted to make fun of me.
Owen was very pleased with himself as he did not give in to the temptation to say something back. This would drive Kit mad if Owen simply played dumb.
“Why are you here?” Owen changed the subject. It was rather early in the morning and Owen was just preparing to leave for work when June forced him to have a haircut.
Kit instantly got serious. The jester was gone and in front of Owen stood Deputy Pharis.
“We got word from one of the farmers down Silvermoon Lake that Michaelson’s gang is in the area.”
That soured Owen’s mood as well. He had been hunting for that bunch of lowlifes for a while, unfortunately, they were always one step ahead of him.
Not this time.
“Let’s go,” Owen ordered before popping his head back inside the house. “I am going to the office, June, see you later.”
“You do not have to shout. I am right here. Oh, hello, Kit,” June greeted him. She wore a frown while interacting with Owen. That quickly changed once she spotted Kit.
Look at her, she is all smiles now, Owen grumbled.
“Hello, June. You did a mighty fine job cutting Owen’s hair,” Kit complimented her and Owen could not believe his ears.
“Why, thank you,” June replied, clearly pleased.
“Perhaps next time you could trim mine,” Kit said with an answering smile.
“Of course, it would be my pleasure.”
Time to break this party up, Owen decided.
“Great. Thank you, June,” Kit said a bit sheepishly.
“Come on Kit,” Owen urged. “Let’s go.”
June waved to them and Kit waved back. Owen knew Kit was sweet on his sister.
He is like a lost puppy around her.
To preserve his sanity, Owen usually ignored that fact. He did not want to picture his own sister with his deputy and right-hand man. It’s too disturbing, I wouldn’t have a moment of peace.
“You did a mighty fine job, June,” Owen mimicked, making fun of Kit and his deputy scowled in return as they walked down the steps and away from his house.
“Oh, shut up,” Kit shot back.
“How about you trim my hair, June,” Owen continued.
There was a very good chance this was going to turn around and bite him in the ass in some way. Owen did not care. He was having too much fun.
“Mark my words, newcomer. One day you will be in my shoes and then I will have the upper hand, and all the opportunities I desire to torment you to no end.”
“Good luck with that,” Owen grumbled in return. Owen had no intention of falling in love.
Ever.
Kit simply snorted in return.
“And when do you plan on stopping calling me newcomer? I have been your boss for three years now.”
Kit looked at him from head to toe before answering. “Are you a native to this town?”
Owen wanted to roll his eyes. “You know I’m not.”
Kit nodded. “Then, there you go.”
“I am still your boss. I deserve some respect,” Owen sounded like a petulant child, and Kit did not miss an opportunity to point that out.
“Has anyone ever told you that you complain a lot?”
Actually, my sister did just this morning, Owen thought. “Come on, stop fooling around,” he said instead and Kit smiled, knowing he won.
He maybe won the battle but not the war. And Owen really loved their little matches.
“How many men do you want for the hunting party?” Kit asked, pulling their conversation back to business.
Owen thought about that for a moment. The gang they were about to go after was a ruthless one. They had been causing havoc for years, traveling all across the state of Nevada, leaving many dead or injured in their wake, so Owen wasn’t taking this lightly.
Someone has to put an end to Eddy Michaelson, who was the leader, and the rest of his cretins.
“I want all our usual riders with us,” Owen said eventually. “No new blood, no boys still wet behind their ears.” Owen needed only seasonal gunslingers at his disposal if he wanted to stop this menace.
Kit nodded. “I agree, so I already sent word to some.”
“Good. Where were they spotted last?”
Kit started to explain while Owen drew a mental map inside his head. Once Kit finished, Owen whistled. “They are getting bolder,” he commented, not liking it one bit how close to Rippingate they actually were. Their town had plenty of places a gang like that would deem as desirable to rob.
“I’ll say,” Kit said simply in return.
“Never mind, we will fix that,” Owen said with confidence. It was about time someone taught those bandits a lesson, and Owen was itching to be that someone. And by the looks of it, so was Kit.
“That is what we do,” Kit replied calmly, as though they were discussing the weather.
That was what Owen liked about his deputy. No matter what was happening, Kit never lost his calmness.
Once they reached the office, Owen let Kit make all the necessary arrangements for their departure and to send word to all the men they needed. Owen sat behind his desk and started to sift through all the mail and telegrams, and newest wanted posters he received, so he could arrange them for their deputies to deal with while he was away.
Crime does not rest, sometimes Owen wished he did not have to rest, either.
He made notes for the deputy he was leaving in charge when one of his other deputies placed a poster on his desk.
Owen picked it up and frowned. “Another missing girl?”
“It sure looks like it,” Deputy Gibson replied with a sigh.
Owen cursed, shaking his head. Such a waste. It always broke his heart seeing young girls vanish without a trace. His sister was close to the missing girls age and so he couldn’t help but shudder while all kinds of gruesome thoughts invaded his mind.
Poor girl. Her poor parents.
Owen committed to his memory every line of her face before pinning the portrait on their board. For her parents’ sake, he would do everything in his power to find her.
“Deputy Gibson?”
“Yes, boss?”
“I am putting you in charge of the case. I expect some results by the time I get back,” he ordered.
“Of course,” his deputy replied instantly. Everybody in this office knew how important their job was and nobody took it lightly. Owen respected that.
Owen worked for a while and once he finished, he stood up, waving a stack of envelopes, calling out for everyone’s attention. “Good news, gentlemen,” he boomed. “Our pay arrived.”
Deputies all started to cheer, and so did Eddy Hobbs, who was a local drunk currently locked inside their jail for urinating in the middle of the square. Owen chuckled.
“This is my favorite part of the job,” Kit joked.
“Mine, too,” Owen replied with a wink. Truth be told, Owen was glad their pay arrived. If he was leaving town to go after the Michaelson’s gang, he needed his sister June taken care of.
“Everyth
ing will be ready for this afternoon,” Kit informed him and Owen simply nodded. “Perfect,” he replied, ready to leave the office for a while.
One short trip later, Owen was back home. He wanted to notify June he was leaving for a bit and ask her to help him pack for the journey.
He gave her almost the entire salary he received that morning.
“How long will you be gone this time?” June asked, putting the money away in the flour jar. She liked to keep it hidden in there despite Owen’s protest how that would be the first place anyone would look for the money.
He shrugged. “It’s hard to say, a while,” he replied vaguely. Not because he was keeping something from her but because he honestly did not know.
“Just be safe, all right?”
“Always,” Owen promised, kissing both her cheeks.
On his way back to the Sheriff’s office, he stopped by the church.
“Father Clemente?” He called out, finding the building empty.
He tried again. Eventually, a small man in simple overalls that were covered in dirt, appeared in front of him.
Owen smiled. “Hello, Father,” the old man was always fixing something.
“Sheriff,” Father Clemente greeted him back.
“It’s Owen, Father,” he always felt a bit strange when people that were much older than him, men he looked up to, called him by his title.
Owen gave the priest the rest of his money without preamble. “For the children,” he explained.
Father Clemente looked overwhelmed. “God bless you, my son. You know how much we appreciate your donations.”
Owen hated being praised. He simply did what every Christian would in his place. “I have to go, Father,” Owen replied, to mask his uneasiness.
“I heard you are going after the Michaelson’s gang.”
News traveled fast in Rippingate. Owen was used to that.
“Did you hear about the latest skirmish between the natives and Colonel Custer?” Father asked him.
Owen sighed, he did hear about it. The clash between Colonel's volunteers and tribal warriors happened a week ago in Wyoming. Many died on both sides.
“That madness has to stop. I do not want a massacre on my territory,” Owen replied deeply disturbed. They had too many of those lately. Both sides seemed too stubborn to find a more peaceful solution.
Father looked the same. “This is rather unsettling times, but God will help us find a way.”
Owen hoped so. He was not a soldier, he was the Sheriff, and at the moment he had other issues to deal with. “I have to go, Father.”
“I will pray for your safe return.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Feeling relieved he put all his business in order, Owen proceeded toward the office. All his riders were already assembled at the front of the building, waiting for him.
He greeted them all, expressing his gratitude they showed up ready in such short notice, eager to follow him.
They went to the corral to collect their horses.
“Let’s ride,” Owen ordered, taking charge. The rest followed suit with their own shouts of excitement, leaving the main Rippingate road in a cloud of dust.
8
“I cannot believe they slipped through our fingers, again.” Owen practically growled as disappointment and anger washed through him. He was frustrated as well, and with good reason.
“That happens sometimes,” Kit tried to console him. That happened too many times for Owen’s liking.
“Don’t take this too close to heart.” His deputy added, despite the fact he himself did not believe in those words.
Besides, how could Owen not? Owen was responsible as the Sheriff, and his failure would mean that more innocent people were going to suffer because of it.
His well-assembled hunting party had been tracking the Michaelson’s gang for more than two weeks through rocky mountains and deserts only to lose them somewhere along the way without a trace. Their trail ran cold.
“How could they simply disappear like that?” Owen mumbled, mostly to himself.
“There are a lot of places they could hide in these parts, we can’t search them all,” Kit replied, equally affected by this turn of events. Owen looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“I thought you knew these parts well, mister I-was-born-here. That is why I keep you around.” Owen only half-joked.
“I do know it, like the back of my hand,” Kit replied instantly, his whole face stern.
“They have someone better,” he confessed reluctantly. Owen felt like cursing for an hour straight.
“Come on, let’s have some breakfast and decide on the plan for our next move,” Owen commanded. He wasn’t the only one who was feeling responsible and he wished it wasn’t so. He was in charge, after all, so everything occurring should go onto him. Unfortunately, life did not work that way. Owen was grateful he had such good men around him, it made this a little bit more bearable.
The bad news was they lost the trail of the bandits. The good news was that Owen and his gunslingers chased Michaelson’s gang away from Rippingate. That was telling Owen that they were not looking for a fray with the authorities.
I will get them, one way or the other, Owen promised himself.
After breakfast, they divided into four groups and tried to resume the search, though it was proven futile.
“It’s like the desert swallowed them whole,” Kit said bitterly, once they reconvened again.
One could wish. Sadly, Owen knew they were not that lucky.
Looking at his men, Owen knew there was only one thing they could do. He whistled, getting everyone’s attention.
“Fellas, we are going home,” Owen announced which was met with mixed feelings. It was hard not to be happy they were returning home to see their families despite the failure of the mission.
Owen knew he made the right decision. They were running dangerously low on supplies and his men were tired. Once the Michaelson’s merry band of bandits reappeared, and they would, there was no doubt in Owen’s mind about that, he would be ready for them, and so would his men.
Returning to Rippingate, people cheered, glad to see them back unharmed and that warmed Owen’s heart. He went straight to the Sheriff’s station, not bothering to go home first. Owen had full confidence his sister could fend for herself so he focused on work.
He did not like when he stayed out of his town for too long. Even though two of his deputies remained to keep the peace, and he trusted them immensely, Owen would feel much better if he was immediately briefed about all the wrongdoings that happened during his absence. Chasing for the bandits was important, so was maintaining the fragile peace between the town borders.
“You are so diligent, like a busy bee,” Kit sat against his desk.
They all used humor to get rid of all the bad emotions they were harboring, but Owen was not in the mood, so he ignored him.
“You are making all of us look bad.”
Owen debated if he should point out to Kit, that he too was in the station despite having the afternoon off.
“Impossible,” Owen said, not being able to help himself and Kit chuckled and then he grew serious.
“I’m afraid I have more bad news.”
“Is it about that missing girl case?” Owen prompted.
Kit nodded. “I just spoke with Deputy Gibson and there were no new leads. Unfortunately, she is still missing.”
Poor girl. Owen cursed.
“My sentiments exactly,” Kit said.
“That’s the third one. Kit, something is terribly wrong.” Owen did not want to jump to any conclusions. It was more than apparent they had a big problem on their hands. Dealing with criminals was easy, as far as Owen was concerned. However, they were not the real problem. Monsters that prayed on the young and weak were. And Owen feared they had a true monster lurking in the shadows of Rippingate.
“I know, newcomer.” Kit sighed. “You know, her father came in yesterday, they are not los
ing hope.”
Owen cursed again. “Susannah is their only daughter.”
“I know.”
"We have to find her."
“We will do our best, as always,” Kit replied diplomatically.
He will make a fine politician one day.
The Redemption 0f A Hunted Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 7