Now that Owen was back, he would give his full attention to the missing girl cases. After all, he was transferred to Rippingate for a reason. Owen would do everything in his power to justify the trust he was given. He managed to lower the crime rate but it still felt like what he was doing wasn’t enough.
As in everything else, there were bad and there were good days, cases that they managed to solve and those they couldn’t. Lately, he was feeling like there were no good days, only shades of bad.
I need a win, Owen prayed, as he went over his notes for the hundredth time.
“Excuse me?” A tentative voice called out, penetrating through his gloomy thoughts, making him look up. A girl came inside the office. Owen could only stare at the sight of her, quickly forgetting to even breathe. The beautiful voice belonged to a very beautiful girl. Despite plain clothes that were dusty from a long journey, there was something about her that made her stand out. The way she moved was rather enticing, hypnotizing.
She had long blonde hair, with a few strands escaping the tight braid, framing her face perfectly. The girl’s eyes were so green, Owen was instantly transported to his childhood and the green flowery meadows he used to play in with June, before moving to Nevada. And her skin was so pale he knew she was not from around these parts. Besides, he would remember that face anywhere.
Stop ogling, you idiot, a rational part of him decided to speak up, and right on time. Owen should probably ask her something or perhaps greet her in return yet he simply continued to stare. And guessing by the silence in the station, Owen was not the only one.
The girl smiled, clearly feeling a bit self-conscious, and approached one of them.
“Hello, Sheriff, I need some information, and I was hoping you could help me,” she continued in that same melodic voice. He could listen to it forever. But then he stopped letting his emotions run wild and actually surveyed the scene in front of him. He instantly was amused.
The young lady was addressing the only person in the entire office that was neither a deputy nor the Sheriff. A part of him wished to remain silent simply to see how this would all play out. He felt pity for her and decided to set the record straight. Unfortunately, old man Nelson, who she was asking for help, beat him to the punch.
“I cannot help you, darling.”
Her whole face fell.
“If you need any help, you can speak to me, Miss,” Kit offered. Owen frowned, for some reason he did not like that.
The young lady sighed. “Thank you, kindly, but I would prefer to speak with the Sheriff, only.”
“I am not the Sheriff, darling,” Mr. Nelson drawled, clearly pleased someone thought so highly of him.
“Oh,” was all she said, clearly at a loss.
Owen stood up. “I am. Sheriff Owen Rundell, at your service.”
She turned toward him, apparently seeing him for the first time, and gawked. “You are the Sheriff?” She stammered, and he nodded, flashing a smile at her.
“Indeed.”
“But you are so young,” she exclaimed. That earned her a few chuckles from the deputies around them.
Of course they would find this amusing, Owen would, too, if someone else was in his place.
Too late realizing she said that out loud, the girl turned bright red. Owen felt like teasing her, however, he did not appreciate the audience they had. He said what was on his mind, regardless.
“Why, thank you,” he was quick to reply. “I do my best, to keep my skin fresh, especially in this ghastly weather,” he joked, trying to spare her from any future embarrassment. It worked, she smiled, and his heart actually skipped a beat.
Holy Mother of God... That smile could end wars, or start them, depending on the receiver.
You cannot lose your calm now, he snapped at himself. Then he proceeded to remind himself she was clearly there for a reason, not to be gawked at. The young lady needed help. This was no social call and that changed everything for Owen. He was the Sheriff again, there to help her in any way, and nothing else mattered.
He beckoned her with his hand to come and sit at his desk.
“Thank you,” she replied simply, lowering herself in the chair.
Owen looked every single one of his deputies in the eyes. His message was clear and they instantly resumed with what they were doing. Much better, he thought approvingly.
He refocused his attention to the young lady in front of him. He sat down as well. “How may I help you, Miss?”
She smiled again. “Where are my manners,” she said mostly to herself before speaking in a fractionally louder voice, addressing him. “My name is Hope Trousdale, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” Owen replied honestly. “Now, Miss Hope, what information do you require, precisely?” Owen asked, intrigued, planting his hands on the desk, with fingers entwined. He settled to hear her tale.
She paused for a moment and he didn’t force her to speak, deciding to give her all the time she needed to gather her thoughts. If the matter was delicate, it could be rather troublesome for young ladies to speak with him. Owen understood that perfectly.
“I was wondering,” she started eventually. “If you know where the Reynolds family lives?”
Owen was surprised by her question as that family was recently on his mind as well. On the other hand, he was not shocked she sought him out to ask for directions. The situation was difficult. Jessamine Reynolds’ disappearance troubled him. She was one of the girls that went missing in the last six months, and so far they were not fortunate in finding anything that could help in the case as to how or why these girls were taken in the first place. Conversely, Owen did not let any of his troubled feelings be displayed on his face.
“Yes, I know where they live,” he replied simply, trying to decipher what was her business with them. And then it dawned on him. The girl, Miss Hope, he corrected himself, clearly came to help the family in their time of need.
Miss Hope looked relieved hearing him say that. “Jessamine is a dear friend of mine,” she confirmed his speculations. “Actually the entire Reynolds family is dear to my heart.”
“I understand,” and he did. Miss Hope was a true friend. Coming all this way to support the family when they needed it the most. Owen was touched by her actions.
“If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction,” she continued, unaware of his little musings. “I would be most grateful.”
Owen nodded. “I can do something even better for you, Miss Hope. I will take you to the farm myself one day soon,” he offered.
Kit raised an eyebrow; Owen ignored him. Of course, his deputy listened to their conversation. He is such a big gossip. It wasn’t even funny anymore.
Owen sighed, looking at Miss Hope a bit apologetically. “I would offer to take you now, the reason I can’t is because the Reynolds farm is the furthest one away from the town, and I have a staggering pile of work to deal with before clocking out.”
“I could take her,” one of his deputies offered, just as Owen knew they would. He was mildly surprised Kit did not jump up, too.
Not on my watch.
“Your pile is even bigger than mine, Clark,” Owen bit back, sternly.
Miss Hope nodded. “Oh, no, I understand completely. I do not want to trouble you.”
“It is no trouble at all,” Owen reassured her instantly.
“Then all that is left for me to say is thank you very much,” she looked pleased. “I can certainly wait until tomorrow, or when it’s the most convenient for you.”
“I will do my best to make it sooner rather than later,” Owen promised, standing up. She followed suit. “I can take you to the hotel now to rest for a bit. You must be tired after your journey. I presume you need lodging.”
She looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”
Her wonder was endearing. “Well, first of all,” he replied with a smile. “You are definitely new in town since I never forget a face.”
&n
bsp; Especially one as pretty as yours.
“And second, you are carrying a rather large traveling bag,” he explained with a shrug. There were a few other tells as well. He did not feel like elaborating. Owen liked the way she looked at him, like he had mystical powers.
Miss Hope chuckled. “And here I was thinking you were a rather good detective.”
Owen’s eyebrows pulled up. Did she just try to tease him? He felt lightheaded.
“Of course I am, this was just an easy case,” he winked and she smiled again.
“This way, if you’d please,” he offered. Miss Hope hesitated. He presumed their business was over with the Reynolds family. Perhaps he was wrong.
“May I ask you another question?” She asked, obviously reluctant to speak for some reason.
“Of course.” He ushered her outside so they would have at least a pretense of privacy.
“Do you know a man named Wyatt Dalbow?”
Wyatt Dalbow? That is rather random.
And he though her first question came as a surprise. Owen frowned. Of course he knew him, the question was how Miss Hope did?
“Yes, I do. Is he a relative of yours, perhaps?”
Please say that he is.
Miss Hope blushed. “Well, no.” She looked down suddenly as if ashamed, and Owen really needed her to continue speaking.
“Why do you ask of him, then?” He prompted.
“Mr. Dalbow is the man I corresponded with. He is actually the one who invited me to come to Rippingate.”
Owen did not understand anything. He thought Miss Hope was here because of the Reynolds.
Luckily, Miss Hope continued to explain to him everything. His mood turned sour rather quickly and got even worse from there with each passing moment.
It was lunacy, yet Owen could not stop the rising disappointment that bloomed inside of him. Miss Hope was already spoken for, as it turned out. Perhaps she was not married legally at the moment, but in spirit most definitely. She was to wed no other that Wyatt Dalbow.
Owen could not have received worst news.
Do not act as if it is the end of the world, you only just met the girl. Nonetheless, he felt the loss of her just the same.
“I see,” was all he managed to say after she stopped speaking. Miss Hope was a Mail Order Bride. He would never guess it. Then seeing her expression, looking at him underneath her thick eyelashes, Owen quickly smoothed his features, not letting any more of his feelings show.
“It will be my pleasure to escort you to Mr. Dalbow’s ranch,” he offered, even though the sentence left a bad taste inside his mouth.
“Now?” She wanted to make sure.
Owen nodded.
“I would be most grateful.”
“Allow me,” he offered to carry her bag and she accepted his help.
“Thank you.”
They walked a short distance toward the corral. Owen particularly dragged his feet.
Stop acting like a child! He ordered himself.
Owen got two horses, his own and Kit’s, presuming he wouldn’t mind. Kit can walk home, God knows he needs the exercise. Only then did he realize he did not ask Miss Hope if she knew how to ride in the first place. He knew nothing about her, period.
Maybe I should change that. Alas, he couldn’t, not when she was to be wed to Mr. Dalbow, he reminded himself.
The way Miss Hope reached to pet the horses told him she was no stranger to the animals. She started speaking to them and they responded kindly.
“You don’t mind riding?” Owen asked, simply to be sure.
Miss Hope shook her head. “Not at all. Actually, I would prefer it.”
Owen was pleased. “Let us go, then,” he said reluctantly, helping her up. Once he mounted his own horse, they started riding out of the town. Slowly at first, simply to not plow down all the people milling about the road going on with their business, and a bit faster later, when they were alone.
Owen had mixed feelings taking Miss Hope to Mr. Dalbow’s ranch. He felt like he was making the biggest mistake of his life.
9
Hope was rather pleased with this turn of events. Not only did the Sheriff promise to take her to see Jessamine, he was kind enough to escort her to Mr. Dalbow’s ranch as well.
Very kind, indeed.
She could have insisted on seeing Jessamine immediately but did not want to make such a fuss. They were in the same town now, they could see each other every day from now on if they pleased. Besides, antagonizing the Sheriff without actual cause sounded like a bad idea. Although something inside Hope was telling her he was a rather kind and good man, which was lunacy since she just met him.
He is helping me despite having a busy schedule, she reminded herself. That must count for something.
“Miss Hope?” Sheriff Owen called out for her attention.
“Yes?”
“Do you see that landmark?” He asked while pointing with his hand. Hope scrunched her eyes since the sun was getting in her way.
“I do,” she replied. It was a massive boulder that almost resembled a bird at rest.
“We will ride toward it.”
“All right.”
He was doing that during their journey, pointing and explaining, making sure she knew where she was at any given time. And Hope was grateful, thanks to his help she would know the way to Mr. Dalbow’s ranch on her own, and from it, back to the town.
The familiar butterflies returned in the pit of her stomach. Finally meeting Mr. Dalbow after weeks and weeks of traveling, worrying about their first encounter, was only partly responsible for such a state. The Sheriff was the other. Hope felt a bit unsettled in his presence for some reason, and not in a bad way, simply unfamiliar.
She could not believe she made such a fool out of herself in the Sheriff’s office.
Why did I think that old gentleman was the Sheriff? She asked herself over and over.
Probably because he was the oldest and in Hope’s mind that was how Sheriffs were supposed to look. As it turned out, the real Sheriff was young, older than her, and still somehow young in her eyes. And not just that.
Nobody looking like that has the right to be the Sheriff, she thought and blushed. Sheriff Owen was too perfect looking. He belonged on stage, in one of the plays Angela liked to watch so much. That thought made her blush even more. It was a good thing she rode slightly to the left and behind Sheriff Owen, so he could not see her red cheeks.
Please do not turn around, she prayed while ordering herself to calm down. You can always find an excuse in the heat. Luckily, he did not take her shocked exclamation about his age to heart, her thoughts quickly circled back. He is rather young to be Sheriff, and quite dashing as well. Hope wondered how he achieved that. Not the looks part, the achievement. He must be very good at his job. As far as she could tell, there were far more seasoned deputies inside that office and yet he was their boss. That spoke volumes. Hope was impressed.
“Miss Hope?”
“Yes, Sheriff?” Sheriff Owen snapped her from her musings. Even his voice was fitting, authoritative and pleasant to the ear at the same time. Hope brushed her hand against her cheek, as if to brush away a loose strand of hair when in fact she needed a physical confirmation she was no longer flushed. She sighed in relief.
“Where did you learn how to ride? You look rather graceful, if you don’t mind me saying that.”
Hope did not mind at all. She was pleased he found her riding adequate.
Stop it, Hope, this instant. She was about to go and meet the man she traveled all this way to wed. So she had no business analyzing, nor thinking about other men, even if they did look at her the way Sheriff Owen was looking at her at the moment. Hope felt some of the heat returning to her cheeks and felt like swearing.
He is looking at you like that, you silly girl, because he asked you a question and is still waiting for a reply, she reminded herself with exasperation. And she was taking her time in answering him, apparently.
Wha
t was the question again? Hope panicked. Her horse started to make noises, clearly sensing her agitation.
Oh yes, riding. She petted the animal with gratitude.
“My father wished for me to know how to ride,” Hope replied simply. And he hired the best possible tutors to teach her everything. She could have competed; she was that good. Her mother was against that, considered it to be vulgar and not proper for someone her age and status. Hope wholeheartedly disagreed. Thinking about her father and mother brought with it all kinds of unwanted emotions, so she stopped.
The Redemption 0f A Hunted Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 8