by Mercy Levy
“Well, things were tough for you.” He replied. “I reckon anybody might be tempted to steal if they had a family to feed. Is that what happened?” Craig was at a loss as to what to say. It was unimaginable to him for this sweet girl to break the law.
“When I worked at the mill, when we first began our correspondence,” She explained, “The night foreman found my alone by my loom. He put his hands on me…” She stammered. “He tried to kiss me and I hit him with my shuttle.” Tears were streaming down her face as she recounted the details of the event. “I made his head bleed, and he called the police.” Her slender shoulders shook and he pulled her into his chest.
“You should’ve told me.” He chastised her. “Why wouldn’t you ask for my help?” he mentally berated himself for not checking on her when her letters had stopped coming. She cried into his shirt while he gently stroked her back. “What’s going on here is the priority right now.” He reminded her. “But, when I am done with this… issue, that has arisen, I will help take care of your problem. Okay?” He pushed her away to arm’s length and looked her in the eye. “I’m really glad you fought him off.” He admitted to her.
Candace chuckled and wiped her nose on her apron. Craig walked her back inside and cajoled her into eating a few more bites of the plate that Annie had dished up for her. Soon enough, Sill and Darren were in their large hotel bed, each reading by candle light, and Craig was saying goodnight to Candace at her door. He cautioned her to stay in her room except in case of emergency, and promised he’d check on the boys and make sure they didn’t burn anything down.
He headed down the stairs to the saloon and looked the place over. The Pinkertons that Karl had hired seemed to be keeping the peace fairly well. He reminded them that no patron was allowed to have guns, and one of them tipped his hat to the sheriff. The saloon seemed pretty well controlled at the time, but he realized before he even reached the door that tonight there were no railroad men at the tables. He prayed that they would be able to keep the two factions separated long enough for the main rail camp to arrive, which, complete with their own law enforcement officers, could avert trouble.
Craig slept in the jail that night, if it could be called sleep. Every mouse that scuttled through the cells, every puff of desert wind that breathed through the cracks in the crooked window frame, made him jump. By morning, he was sore from spending the night on a cot, and in desperate need of a pot of strong, black coffee. He was still stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Mark burst into the jail, gasping for air.
“Sheriff, Junior Quincy’s dead.” The deputy reported. I left Karl and the Doc with Bud, He’s still in bad shape from the beating he took and when Dickie rode into town and told us what happened, he just fell apart.
“What did happen?” Craig asked. “Who else was riding with Junior and Dickie?” He splashed some water from the wash basin onto his face and neck to help wake him up. Coffee was just a distant dream now. He sighed. “Junior seemed pretty cooled off when he left us last night.”
“Yeah, well he got a bottle of rot gut in him and Dickie and Robertson got talking…” Mark rubbed his palm across his stubble. “He thought he’d go scout out the camp, real quiet-like, and see if he couldn’t pinpoint where the guys who beat up his brother were.”
“How did he know who to look for?” Craig asked. He was pacing the floor as he listened.
“Bud was able to get out a few details.” Mark replied. “In fact, you already met our friendly neighbors.” Craig stopped in his tracks and glanced at Mark, who was looking at him expectantly.
“The tall thin guy and the stocky redhead that were asking about The twins the night before I left.” Craig snapped his fingers. “Did you send for the marshals?” He asked as he began strapping on his gun belt.
“Ayuh, I did.” Mark replied. “Don’t know how long before they get here, though.” He added. Craig waved it off. So far they had at least two perpetrators, and possibly more, if the railroad men decided to protect their own from the legal consequences of killing Junior.
Craig bowed his head. Junior had been a talker, but the twins had never thrown a first punch at anyone but each other when they argued. He’d been a good ranch hand and an honest card player. Craig knew for the sake of the whole town, he had to shut this down as soon as possible. He put on his hat and headed out the door toward the medical clinic. Two steps out the door, he was met by Candace and Annie. The former was carrying a carafe of coffee and a mug. They were chatting and smiling like old friends. Annie noticed Craig watching them and shot him a dirty look.
Craig scuffed his foot in the dust and hid a grin behind his hand. He schooled his face into a pleasant blank and let the women approach. With a look of silent gratitude, Craig downed two cups of strong black coffee while Annie chewed him out for not telling her about his bride to be.
“…And me wasting my time, telling you that you needed to start a family, when you were doing just that, right under my nose, without even a simple ‘how’d do you do’ for my mental state.” He heard her finish as the first thrums of blessed caffeine hit his system.
“I am sorry, Annie.” Craig apologized. “It was a mean trick to play on an old friend.” He continued, only slightly emphasizing the word “old”. She snorted and walked away, wearing a Cheshire cat grin.
“Listen, Candy-girl.” Craig implored, softly touching her arm with his hand. “I think it might be best if you and the boys stay inside for the rest of the day.” He sighed heavily. “I need to bring some rough men into town. I’d rather not have you all in the line of fire.” They walked toward the hotel together. “I’m sorry I can’t take you out to the ranch, but a man was killed, I know you understand the importance of this.” He appealed. Candace nodded and placed her fingers over his.
“I might have thought about you differently, had I known that you put yourself in danger.” She murmured. Craig’s gut twisted.
“I know.” He replied. I guess we both had things we should’ve said, that we hoped wouldn’t change the outcome, didn’t we?” He whispered into her ear. Candace smiled up at him.
“Yes, I suppose that we did.” She answered him. “So I guess I don’t actually have to say, ‘be careful’, today. But, I’m going to anyway.” She sighed. “Please just stay safe.” She squeezed his hand and let go. “I’ll keep my brothers in line, that’s no problem. They both talked Karl into giving them paying work, so they’ll be busy.” She chuckled.
“Those boys are better men than most men I know.” Craig admitted. “They had a good example.” Candace blushed at the compliment. At the hotel, she reached up and touched his cheek. He smiled and tipped his hat to her and strode off without a word, leaving her to watch after him, worry clutching at her heart.
Craig, his deputy rode out to the camp to collect the tall thin man and his ginger haired companion. The men’s names, he found out, were Thomas O’Malley and Eugene Stalk. Mark asked Craig whether it should be funny that the tall man’s name was Stalk, but neither of them could work up a smile. The camp foreman claimed that they’d ridden off about an hour earlier, when others from the camp had brought back the news that they were going to be arrested.
Disheartened, Craig and Mark returned to town. Mark was sent to dispatch another telegram to let the marshals know that the murderers had ridden west, and might even turn south to head toward California. Craig went straight to the clinic, to check on Bud.
When he got there, Bud was sitting up in bed and Annie was sitting next to him, carefully feeding him thin broth soup. The doctor took the sheriff to one side and Craig filled him in on the developments. Doc promised to let Bud know, when he was a little more stable, and with a “thank you” Craig left him.
He was halfway down the boardwalk to the hotel when he realized the street was unusually quiet for that time of day. He glanced around him at the virtual ghost town. A few faces peeked out of windows at him, eyes wide and afraid.
He continued walking, his holster unbuckled
and his hand near his hip. As he came to the jail, Annie walked out to meet him. Her hair was falling out of its normally tidy grey bun, and her face was drawn and tear-stained.
“Sheriff.” She declared in a loud voice. “You need to give me your gun, right now.” She held out her hand. “Then you can see…” She trailed off and began again. “Then you can see your deputy and your fiancé.” She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” to him as she slid the gun belt off his waist. “Now.” She continued. “The man inside wants to talk to you. He said no one else needs to get hurt. He just wants a chance to talk.” Craig nodded and continued behind her into the jail where he saw Mark, sitting in a cell, holding his bloody head in his hands.
Candace was seated next to the redhead, O’Malley. He was licking his lips and touching her knee, while she sat white and trembling. Stalk, the tall, thin man, stood up and accepted the gun from the frightened woman.
“Why don’t you let Annie go, as a sign of good faith.” Craig proposed immediately. “She’s old and frail, we don’t want her heart giving out while we’re talking, that would only make things worse for you.” He bargained. The redhead snorted derisively, but Stalk agreed and motioned the pale café owner out with the sheriff’s gun. Annie glanced toward Craig, and when he nodded to her, she rushed out and ran to the hotel, where Eva met her at the door. She gathered her in her arms and hurried her inside.
Craig turned back to the obvious leader of the duo, without sparing a glance at Candace. Stalk smiled grimly at him and slid the gun into the drawer of the sheriff’s desk, then stepped around it and sat on the corner.
“Now, Sheriff.” He wheedled. “You seem to have the wrong impression about us.” HE smiled convivially. O’Malley cackled in the corner.
“Maybe we have the wrong impression of him, Slim.” He broke in. “I mean, we were told her was going to marry this sweet filly, but he ain’t even looked at her since he came in!” He howled. “Mebbe I should show you what a real man does.” He threatened the girl. Craig glanced over at her. She was pale as a ghost, but her face was determined. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.
“Look.” He bartered with Stalk. “Maybe what you did really was self-defense.” He opened his hands to the man, palms up, in a sign of peace. “We have no way of knowing without a proper investigation.” Stalk nodded in agreement. “So, why don’t we just let the girl go, and let Mark out of that cell. Let her walk him over to the Doc’s and you and I can sort this out.” He tilted his head to one side and scratched behind his ear. “You can’t tell me that a sheriff isn’t worth more than a deputy, right?” He joked.
“Red.” Stalk jerked his head and tossed his companion the keys. “Go on and get the deputy for us. Little Miss Brown eyes, here, is going to escort him to the doctor.” O’Malley made a loud sound of protest. “Jus’ do it!” Stalk ordered. O’Malley stormed off to the cells and dragged the still dazed Mark to the front office.
“You okay, deputy?” Craig asked softly.
“Sorry, Sheriff.” The hurt man apologized. “I had my back to the door, I didn’t even see it coming.”
“I don’t see why I have to give up this little girl, jus’ cause the sheriff says so!” O’Malley interrupted. Candace quailed at the words. Craig wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his bride-to-be grew even paler at his words. Craig tried to ignore his taunting and hoped Candace would stay strong until he could get her out.
“What they hit you with, anyway, deputy?” Craig inquired, looking around the room. O’Malley made a crude gesture, grabbing his crotch and laughing. But behind him, the sheriff saw a length of wood. It looked like the handle to a pickaxe or shovel. Candace followed his eyes and then gave him a stern look. Craig winked at her, then went back to ignoring her. Stalk motioned at O’Malley.
“You best put some cuffs on him for his little stroll, Red.” He said. Stalk’s eyes never left Craig’s face. We have to make sure everyone is safe, right Sheriff?” With a grim nod, the sheriff assented. O’Malley got the handcuffs clasped shut and shoved him toward the door. Craig’s hands bunched into fists, but he kept still, watching Stalk for an opening to fight.
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement to his right, and Craig and Stalk both jumped back. Without thinking, Craig immediately leapt at Stalk, vaulting the desk that stood between them and punching the man in the face. He grabbed the wiry man by the hair and kneed him in the face. Wrapping an arm around his throat, he turned around and scanned the room. Candace stood with a bloody piece of wood in her hand, backing slowly away from O’Malley, whose head was bleeding profusely. He advanced on her, cursing and threatening her. He feinted to the left, and then reached out with his right to grab her.
Craig slid his desk drawer open and slid the gun out in one smooth motion, he dropped the unconscious Stalk, slid back the hammer, and fired at O’Malley. Shaken, he kicked Stalk over and prodded him with his foot. He tossed the handcuff key to Mark and motioned at him to cover Stalk, and rushed to Candace’s side.
“Candy-girl.” He murmured, as he wrapped his arms around her. “What were you thinking?” He held her at arm’s length and shook her, hard. “Don’t you ever do anything that stupid ever again!” She started to sob, and he pressed her against him as though he could fit her inside his body for safekeeping. “Never again.” He whispered more gently, wondering if she could hear him over the pounding of his heart.
“Never again.” She replied. “But now you know how it’s done.” She teased. “I’m getting to be an expert at hitting bad men with blunt objects.” Mark barked out a laugh from the cell he had just dragged the unconscious killer into.
Craig watched O’Malley for signs of life, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of Candace to make sure he was dead. Mark arched and eyebrow at him and then squatted down and checked for a pulse.
“Well, he won’t be standing trial.” He announced. “I’m gonna go get Doc, and let Bud know that we have one dead, one in custody.” Craig nodded in reply. He kept Candace facing away from the body of the dead man.
“Wait.” He called after Mark. “You stay here and rest your head, I’ll get Miss Shepherd back to her family and send the Doc.” Mark readily agreed and slumped down at his desk. He reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He saluted Craig with the bottle, uncorked it, and took a long pull straight from the bottle.
They stepped out of the jail into a crowd of townsfolk who had gathered. Before he knew it, Candace was whisked away by Eva and Annie, and Karl had brushed past him to sit with Mark. The doctor had come running and was still gasping for air. Craig stepped out of the way and let him pass.
He strode over to the hotel to claim his bride from the mother hens that kept her from him. Barging in through the saloon doors, he took the stairs two at a time and launched himself at her door.
“WOMEN OUT!” He bellowed. Eva made a move to argue and Craig simply pointed at the door. “Out. Now.” He said more gently. Annie giggled behind her hand and pulled Annie with her out of the room. Candace looked shocked and tried to hide her half-dressed body behind the coverlet she jerked off the bed.
“Craig, people will talk!” She protested. “It isn’t proper.” He grabbed her roughly by the arms and pulled her against him, pressing the coverlet between them.
“Let them talk, Candy-girl.” He growled. The blood rushed from her face and her stomach felt tight. “I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks anymore. I’ve come to claim what’s mine. I’m not going to wait another minute.” He declared. He kissed her hard, then softened at her sounds of protest until he as barely grazing his lips over hers, over and over. Her knees felt weak and she sagged against him. He picked her up and deepened the kiss. When he finally thought he must quit or go insane he pulled her away from him and guided her to sit on the bed.
She looked so lovely, flushed from his kisses, which he couldn’t wait any longer. He lowered himself to one knee and reached up to cup her face in his hand.
“
Candace Shepherd, my sweet Candy-girl.” He began. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Will you be my wife?” He asked, as tears poured down her cheeks in diamond cascades. “I promise you the life of a rancher, hard work, but always done together. I’ll hand in my start tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mr. Ferguson,” She choked out past her happy tears. “I will marry you. I will marry the rancher I’ve never seen, and the sheriff who won my heart.” She sniffed and inhaled deeply. “I would never feel as safe out here in the wilds of the west, if you weren’t the one protecting us all.” She tugged at his hands until he stood and she launched herself into his arms. He kissed her a hundred times, every kiss a promise to love her and keep her safe from harm. Forever.
THE END
Nola’s Western Romance
Chapter 1
Oh Boy
I walloped Mitch with a mighty hand. Yes sir, I sure did. Mitch deserved to be walloped a good one, too. Who was that scoundrel to laugh at me, anyway? That varmint was nothing more than a lazy, ugly, smelly, waste of flesh that hung around my bakery all day trying to convince me that he would make a good husband. “Out!” I yelled and grabbed a broom.
Mitch, who was now sitting on his bum rubbing his red face, looked up at me with shock and fear. “All I said was that you shouldn't oughta being moving west, Nola, that's all. Golly, why'd you hit me so hard?”
“You laughed at me,” I scolded Mitch and brushed at him with the broom. My bakery was boiling hot and my face was swimming in sweat, dripping down onto the pink dress I was wearing. It was quite unladylike.
Mitch continued to rub his face. He looked like a scalded raccoon wearing a pair of old, worn out blue overalls. I guessed I felt sorry for him, in some way or another, but I couldn't tolerate a lazy man. No sir. I wanted a man who knew how to work hard and think smart
“I didn't mean to laugh, honest, Nola,” he said again, pitifully.
“Out!” I ordered Mitch and swept him up to his feet. “And don't be coming back to my bakery until you learn how to respect a woman properly, you smelly farm animal.”