by E A Lake
“What would you want in return for doing this for us?” I asked. He grinned at that comment. Oh, it was gonna be good.
“A year’s pass to the looney bin so I could get my sanity back.” I chuckled; Morgan acted preoccupied.
“Robert,” she said softly. “Can I ask you a couple of questions?” He nodded, but looked at her skeptically.
“Would you say that Charolette is a pretty girl?” Geez Morgan, that was like asking if sunshine in the summer was warm.
He waggled his head a couple of times. “She’s cute enough. But she’s got so many weird tics. I don’t even know where to start.”
Morgan held up a finger. “But you admit she’s attractive.” He nodded again. “And she’s pleasant enough to be around?”
“When she isn’t in one of her moods, she’s okay,” he replied, softening a little. I had no idea where this was going, but it seemed to be working. A little.
“I saw you and her talking the other morning, outside on the porch with your coffee,” Morgan continued. “I recall you were all smiles and laughing. So was she, as I recall.”
Robert face softened further. “We was just talking about something that was nice. I don’t remember what it was. She can be pretty sweet sometimes.”
“Did you know when you left she watched you until you were gone?” Morgan asked. “And she was smiling that same sweet smile the whole time.”
Robert looked away quickly. Was he blushing, really?
“I think she has a little crush on you, Robert,” Morgan said, giving his ribs a poke. “And I think you might feel the same way about her.”
That made me laugh. I knew Robert well enough to know that he’d never—
“You think so?” he asked nervously.
“What?” I said, perhaps too loudly. “What?”
“Shut up, Quinn,” Morgan chastised. She smiled back at Robert. “Maybe if we can spin this time together as a type of courtship, well, maybe things could progress between you two.”
“A what?” I asked. “Morgan, you’re just putting ideas in poor Robert’s head now. We need to—”
“Quiet, Quinn,” Robert said. He stepped closer to Morgan. “Has she ever mentioned anything to you about liking me?”
I was the densest man alive. I’d never noticed any sparks between the two. Of course, in my defense, I’d been a little busy avoiding getting shot.
But Morgan, my darling Morgan — bless her sweet soul — had seen everything. Hot damn. We had our target protected. One less thing for me to worry about.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE
For the next week, I was on edge. Every new face I saw made me reach for my weapon. I even double-checked Art’s gun twice to be sure he’d loaded it, as I’d requested a number of times. Once it wasn’t, but the second time it was. I considered it a moral victory, and I hated moral victories.
Charolette and Robert were actually getting along fine. Hell, better than fine. Morgan had told me that Charolette’s normal phobias had dissipated some and she’d seen the pair holding hands several times. She claimed the young woman had even been happier than normal.
But I was still worried, regardless of Robert and Charolette’s budding relationship. Shaklin wanted a bride for Winston Cutler. He’d promised the family Charolette. From my discussion with Harry, she was still the main course in the deal they’d made.
How was he going to steal the girl? How would they attempt to pull it off? And when?
I deputized a couple more volunteers and posted patrols around the outskirts of town during the daylight hours. That helped my anxiety until I thought more about a nighttime grab.
However, we held the advantage after sundown. I made up my mind that Charolette wouldn’t spend a night in the same place within any given four-day period. We had my place, Ronnie’s place, Art’s small dwelling and Robert’s shack. I knew staying with Art and Robert would remove the cleaning genie from her lamp. But that was just the way it had to be.
A day later, a courier arrived from Sheriff Cotter down in Farmersburg. According to what Art read, there was some type of problem that required my help. As in, a man had barricaded himself and his wife and children inside of his home and wouldn’t come out for anyone.
The situation sounded mundane to me until Art read the last part. “Claims he’ll kill his wife and kids if anyone tries to come near the place. Shots have been fired; awaiting your arrival.” He looked up at me and shrugged.
“And Lucas can’t handle this why?” I asked, wondering what he might be expecting from me. It wasn’t like there was a group of ruthless men and women with guns threatening the town. That was much more my style of problem.
Art flipped the paper over and cleared his threat. “Doesn’t say why, Sheriff. Just says he could use your help.”
“Well, this wasn’t on the docket for my day,” I replied, pushing off of my chair. “Though it does sound a little better than watching Charolette and Robert making goo-goo eyes at each other like I’ve done the past few days.”
My deputy was oddly silent at that point. Usually, he had a comment for everything, much like my significant other.
“Something on your mind?” I asked, strapping my black gun belt around my waist.
“You really believe Shaklin is sending someone to try and take that goofy girl?”
I nodded, reaching for my hat. “Yes, I do, Art. I’m certain of it.”
He looked as though he had another question.
“Anything else before I leave, Art?”
“You think her and Robert are bumping uglies?” he asked in his own gentile way.
“Hadn’t thought about it until now,” I replied. “And I can’t say that it’s any of my business.”
“You and Morgan have a good sex life?” Dear God, where were these questions coming from?
I tried to think of a decent way to answer such a blunt question. Maybe Art would get the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it with him, or anyone else.
“I like to cuddle as much as the next man,” I replied slowly. “Again, not that it’s anything we should be talking about.”
“You know,” he continued in a nonchalant manner, taking a seat on the corner of his desk. “Robert’s wife run off on him a few years back.”
“I remember.”
“Said he was weak in the sack.” He stared at me like I was supposed to respond to him. “Just wondering if he’s gotten better, that’s all.”
“I’ll ask Charolette tonight at dinner,” I replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
His face lit up, missing my point because he was too dense to know any better.
“Art, our only concern with Charolette is to protect her,” I reprimanded. “While me and Petri run down to Farmersburg, I need you to keep an eye on her.”
“Ain’t that Robert’s job?” he asked with absolute confusion.
I felt my hands tighten. “Robert is protecting her. You and Cooley need to watch out for any strangers that come to town. Watch them and see if they ask about the women or start nosing around all suspicious like. Got it?”
His lips tightened as he tapped the desk.
“Yeeees?” I asked, growing more annoyed.
“If I happen to catch them making out, do you mind if I watch?”
I shook my head and left the office in a hurry. I didn’t know if I was anxious to get to Farmersburg and back, or if I just needed a break from my deputy.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY
Farmersburg was a bust. There was a man, the man had a family, and the man was angry. But that was about all that matched the description of what I was supposed to find. When I arrived on the scene, the man was hollering at another man – I think he was one of the local ministers – on his front porch with his family by his side.
“Doesn’t look all that volatile,” I mumbled to Lucas Cotter as I inched in beside him and his deputy. “Another five minutes later and you all would have been singing ‘Kumbayah’ together.”
Lucas grinned and rolled his eyes. “A half hour ago, I thought we’d be digging four or five graves. Father Torrence shows up and bam, he comes out. He’s still pissed about whatever it is that’s bothering him, but at least he’s talking now.”
I sighed before answering. “Wasn’t doing anything all that important anyway. Just waiting around for Shaklin’s next move.”
“How’s that going?” Lucas asked, giving me his full attention. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Keep your eyes open for strangers heading north towards Pimento,” I replied, noticing Lucas was invading my personal space. I stepped away a half pace but he followed right along. Another step on my part and he followed my lead. Hmmm.
“Lots of people I don’t know pass through here every day, Quinn,” he said, reaching to rub one of my shoulders. It was then that I remembered Lucas was a touchy-feely guy. He liked to make you feel welcome. I almost wished I didn’t have my memory at that point.
“Just keep your ears open for anyone that might pass through asking questions about me or any of the women,” I said as his hand wandered to my neck.
“You’re all tight back here, Quinn,” he replied, rubbing harder. “You need to learn to relax, man. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”
I began to shake a little. I had problems, real problems. Someone was after one of my friends and had plans to give her to a madman for a toy. Of course I was tense! How could anyone relax given what I was going through?
“Lucas,” I replied as evenly as possible. “I’ve got a lot on my plate up in Pimento. And until I can figure out what Shaklin’s up to, I can’t really relax.”
He looked at me as though he had a reasonable solution. “According to what I heard from Harry, you need to go work this out with Shaklin himself, not get yourself all worked up about it. Harry says you stole from the man. Not that I call what you did stealing, but maybe if you explained it to Shaklin the way you see things, he’d ease up on you.”
I was so flabbergasted, I could hardly respond. “You’ve met Tony Shaklin, haven’t you?”
“Sure,” he replied as though everyone had met the man.
“Then you know he isn’t the ‘talk it out’ kind of guy, right? Tony’s used to having things his way and his way only.”
Lucas appeared unmoved by my small rant. “Any of this have to do with him screwing you out of all that money or stealing your old wife? You know, getting even for him for past wrongs?”
“Tony Shaklin practices slavery, Lucas!” I shouted. “I got a problem with that, don’t you?”
“Don’t go getting all excited,” Lucas said, raising his hands. “No one’s fond of keeping slaves. But I don’t remember you having a problem with it ever before.”
I poked him in the chest sharply. “You got a problem, Lucas? Or are you just the mouthpiece for Harry? Or maybe Shaklin’s gotten to you.”
“Hey there, buddy,” he said pushing away my hand. “You need to slow down. All I’m trying to do is give you some brotherly advice to keep the peace in the area. I’m on your side; really, I am. But a pissed-off Tony Shaklin means trouble for all of us. I like a quiet town, Quinn, don’t you?”
“You’re unbelievable,” I raged. “I got a shit ton of trouble. I need allies, not an advocate for my foe.”
“Yeah,” Lucas drawled. “You’ve got trouble. But who brought that trouble on you; Shaklin, or you running down there to rescue your girlfriend?”
“She was a slave! Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”
He nodded. “Yes, she was. So, tell me this: why didn’t you just kidnap her? Why’d you go and grab yourself a handful of trouble?”
“They’re my friends, Lucas,” I replied, a little less riled up. “What was I supposed to do?”
His face tightened and he nodded harshly. “So, you decided to piss on Tony Shaklin’s boots all by yourself. What did you think would happen?” He softened slightly, taking a more causal stance. “I’m your friend, Quinn. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But here’s the rub: you did this; you gotta clean it up.”
Though I hated to admit it, Lucas was right. I’d created my own mess with Shaklin. I’d have to deal with it in the end, even if I had to do it on my own.
There was one more option, but I didn’t even want to consider it at the time. I hadn’t spoken with the man in at least three years and our last encounter hadn’t gone well. And even though he hated my former business partner more than me, I wasn’t willing to go to him, begging for his help.
Not yet at least.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE
According to Petri’s wind-up pocket watch, our quick ride to Farmersburg had taken about 45 minutes. We pushed the horses, fearing we’d discover a macabre scene when we arrived. On our return, we allowed our rides to lumber lazily down the crumbling blacktop.
“Say boss,” Petri said about halfway back to Pimento. “Can I ask you something?”
I fought back the urge to tell him he could as long as it wasn’t a stupid topic. Between him, Art and Cooley, our conversations never came close to anything pertinent.
“Sure,” I finally answered, trying to sound overly curt.
“Does killing people bother you at all?”
Huh. A decent question from him, no less.
“I don’t know,” I replied without making eye contact. “I think at first I was so pissed off at the world that I just did it, figured it was part of the job. Given that there were three dead sheriffs before me, staying alive seemed pretty high on the to-do list.”
We rode quietly for a bit before he dared more. “And now?”
That was a good question, one I’d been thinking through for the past couple of weeks.
“Since I’ve got my memory back,” I began, peeking at him. “And since I came back from Shaklin’s, it’s been kill or be killed. The first two just wanted me dead. Those last two wanted the women, but they would have killed me if I hadn’t been ready.”
He pondered my response for a while. I wondered what was going through his mind.
“I ain’t ever killed anyone,” he finally said softly. “I had to threaten to do it a couple of times since the world turned to shit. But I’ve never pulled the trigger. I guess I’m just not sure how I’d react.”
When I turned in my saddle to face him, the leather creaked. “And I hope you never have to find out, Petri,” I replied with a smile. “You’re a good man. Good men shouldn’t have to do what I do.”
He returned my smile with a larger, more sincere one. “Hell, I think you’re a great man, Sheriff. One of the best men I’ve ever met. You’re even a better man than my daddy, and that’s saying a lot. A whole lot.”
My eyes drifted back to the road. I wasn’t so sure the young man had that right. Not sure at all.
When we arrived in Pimento about an hour later, everything seemed the same as when we’d left. Art was snoozing in a chair outside the front of our office in the midday sunshine, Cooley was nowhere to be seen, and in the distance, I could hear Chloe’s dogs barking their lungs out. Nothing ever seemed to change in that small, sleepy town.
Petri took the horses away and Art woke up. Maybe he’d just had his eyes closed. Hard to tell with him and his droopy old eyelids. He rose and stretched, letting a loud yawn escape from his mouth. Maybe he had been sleeping.
“Anything exciting going on?” I asked as I walked into the office.
“Nope,” he replied lazily.
“Where’s Cooley?” He shrugged his reply to that question. “Chloe’s dogs are barking. Any idea why that is?”
“They’re always barking,” he replied, shaking away the last of his sleep. “I swear, those mutts never shut up.”
I glanced at him and shook my head. “I haven’t heard them barking much lately. They weren’t barking when I left.”
He shrugged again and sat at his small desk. “Well, they’re barking now, ain’t they?”
“You want to go check
that out?” I asked, my temper rising. He had the motivation of a garden slug, and that may have been an insult to the slug.
I saw his eyebrows rise. “I’ll go see what Cooley is up to and send him over there. You know, I hate the stink of Chloe’s place. Everything either smells like a wet dog or dog shit.”
“Just go look into it, Art!” I barked. “Just see what’s going on. Please.”
He took no offense to my mood and started to leave the office. “Oh, your wife is looking for you. Wants you to come home when you got back.”
“She’s not my wife!” I shot back.
He grinned and rapped twice on the door frame. “Not yet.” He winked and left, reappearing a second later. “She said it’s not a rush; just wanted to see you.”
When he finally left, I plopped down in my chair and pressed my palms against my forehead. Why was he being so difficult? But I already knew the answer and had since my memory returned. Arthur P. Snappingchat had been a goofball since the day I’d met him. And I doubted he’d ever change.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO
“I just said I needed to talk to you,” Morgan said when I got home. I’d found her in the living room mending a hole in a pair of pants (hers I think). “Just wanted to make sure you were okay and everything was alright down in Farmersburg.”
“Yes to both,” I replied, taking a bite of a gingersnap I’d found on a plate on the kitchen counter. “Who made the cookies? They’re nice and crisp, just like I like them.”
She smiled at me. “I swear you love everything sweet. I think they’re a little overdone myself.” She went back to her mending. “Chloe made them. She said it was Avellyn’s idea. She thought her daddy needed some cookies.”
The way she said daddy made me wonder. I knew Morgan was the jealous type, though she tried to sweep most things away with gentle casualness. But I knew it was an act on her part.
When she found out that Chloe and I had been intimate, she acted as though it didn’t bother her. But it did. And I noticed every time the young girl called me “daddy”, Morgan cringed slightly.