With his free hand, the sheriff fumbled beneath his suit coat, but Covey surprised him, slamming his elbow into the sheriff’s ribs.
A husky man pushed through the crowd and headed toward the scuffle, and Faith willed him to hurry.
“Archer!” Another of the sheriff’s brothers stepped forward and blocked the man’s way. “Stay out of it.”
Faith gaped in disbelief. Covey was thrashing like a rabid dog, kicking his boot heels up and using his spurs like small knives. She couldn’t tell if he was hitting his mark, but the sheriff’s suit coat was ripped in several places and he’d lost his hold on the man.
Covey leapt to his feet and bolted into the crowd. Several women screamed as the sheriff tore after the thief.
The man named Archer pushed forward, but the sheriff’s brother grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Duke will handle this.”
“Boyd Grayson, unhand me!” Archer struggled against Boyd’s unrelenting grip. “That thief is getting away!”
The sheriff tackled Covey near the huge water fountain.
Boyd grinned. “No, he’s not.”
The sheriff and Covey were so tangled up that Faith couldn’t tell who was winning the fight, but she was on Archer’s side; somebody needed to step in and lend a hand.
Covey reared up and slammed his elbow into the sheriff’s sore shoulder. The sheriff’s pain-filled grunt could be heard across the Common, but unbelievably, no one moved to help him. Faith’s jaw dropped. What was wrong with these people? Why on earth weren’t his brothers helping? There had to be forty men in the park, but they were just standing there watching while that horrid thief swung his elbows and fists like hammers.
With a low growl, the sheriff grabbed Covey’s wrist and wrenched the man’s arm behind his back. Covey cursed and struggled, but the sheriff out-muscled the horse thief and bound his hands with a pair of black suspenders he’d pulled from beneath his coat. Only then did Faith realize the sheriff was without his gun and handcuffs.
When he finally pulled the man to his feet, the sheriff was breathing hard and dripping sweat. Faith knew the extent of his shoulder injury and could imagine the wrenching pain he must be in. But he kept his jaw clenched and propelled the horse thief through the crowd. Nobody said a word until the sheriff pushed Covey inside the brick building on the corner of Temple Street.
“He’s taking him to jail,” Adam said, his face lit with excitement as he pointed to the building that Faith hoped to never visit. “Did you see the sheriff pull that man off that horse?”
She sure had seen it, and it scared her sideways. Even injured, the sheriff wasn’t a man to cross.
Everyone began speaking at once, filling the Common with enough noise to startle the birds out of the maple trees.
“He did it with one hand,” Adam continued with awe. “Those men didn’t even have to help him.”
Faith was trembling so badly she couldn’t bear Cora’s weight another moment. She set the child down on the bright green lawn then led her and Adam to where their aunts and the sheriff’s sisters-in-law were gathered around Nancy.
“Of course these things terrify me,” Nancy was saying. “Duke says it’s senseless for me to worry about him, but a mother will worry to her grave.”
“Surely his brothers or one of those other men could have helped him,” Tansy insisted, apparently as appalled over their lack of action as Faith was.
“They know Duke can do his job.”
“But that man was beating him!” Faith said, her outrage revealing two things she did not want to know: The sheriff’s job was too dangerous, and she was far too concerned about him for her own good.
“I know,” Nancy said, the tremor in her voice belying her brave front. “Believe me, if the situation had turned ugly, his brothers were right there ready to step in.”
If it turned ugly? Faith’s heart was still banging in her chest. How much uglier would it need to get before the man’s own brothers would step in and help?
Chapter Nine
It took Duke two hours to get Covey settled and the horse owner calmed down, and by the time his deputy Sam Wade arrived to guard the prisoner, Duke’s shoulder hurt, the pain almost beyond bearing. And doubt tormented him.
If he hadn’t yanked Covey to the ground and stunned the man, Covey would have thrown him off like a bothersome blanket. When he’d broken loose and bolted into the crowd, Duke feared his brothers and the townsmen would have to bring down the horse thief. This was his responsibility. He’d taken an oath to protect the area residents, and he couldn’t do that with only one healthy arm.
Sick with worry and pain, he struggled to greet people cordially as he made his way to Faith’s greenhouse. When he found the door unlocked and Faith inside alone, he sagged with relief.
“I know it’s Sunday, and that you’re obviously closed for business,” he said, startling a gasp from her, “but I’m prepared to pay any price you ask if you’ll fix my shoulder.”
She pressed her hand to her chest and leaned against a flat of leafy green plants. “Why didn’t those men help you in that fight?” she asked, her face pale. “Your own brother kept a man from helping.”
“I didn’t need help,” he said. Thank God. But next time...
“Surely they could have saved you from getting kicked and... and oh gracious, did Covey cut you with his spurs? You must be in terrible pain.”
“I’m not cut, but I was hoping for a massage with some of that balm you gave me.”
“It should give you some relief,” she agreed. She crossed to the shelves and retrieved a jar of balm.
“Where is everybody?” Duke asked, joining her at the counter.
“Adam’s playing out back. Cora’s napping, and my aunts are in the house. I just came in to pick some herbs to make soup for lunch.”
“Should I come back later?” he asked, praying she wouldn’t ask him to. His back was cramping, and his neck muscles were growing so tight he could barely turn his head.
“I’d rather do it now while Cora is sleeping.”
“Thank you,” he said then clamped his teeth against another back spasm.
She eyed him closely. “I think you need more than a massage, Sheriff.” She gathered an armful of linens and headed toward the back of the greenhouse. “I have a bold suggestion, but you have to promise not to arrest me for making it.”
He smiled, appreciating a bit of lightness in an otherwise dark morning. “I promise not to arrest you.”
“All right then. I’m going to mix a tea that will relax you.”
“I can’t see why I would arrest you unless you add some of those poisonous herbs you grow.”
“If I did that, you’d be dead, and I’d get off scot-free,” she said with an easy laugh that soothed him.
He lowered his aching shoulders and followed her to the small stone room at the back of the greenhouse where he’d hooked up the gas line for her tub. She set the linens on a chair beside the tub which was large enough for six adults. Then she uncapped a jar and poured purplish liquid into the tub. The scent of lavender wafted through the room.
She capped the jar and set it on a nearby stand. “While I’m brewing your tea, you can remove your clothes and settle yourself in the tub.”
She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d kissed him.
She scooped out a bucket of bath water and sat it on a low table beside a dish of soap shavings. “Everyone must wash from nose-to-toes then rinse off before getting into the tub. Don’t worry. We use plenty of herbs to keep the water clean and fresh, and we change the water frequently. When you’re clean, tie one of the linens around your hips before you get in, so I can bring in your tea.”
Maybe Covey’s hard elbow to the temple had jarred his brain.
“A warm soak in an herbal bath will soothe your muscles, Sheriff,” she continued, straightening the linens. “We empty and clean the tub at least once a week, so I can assure you the water is fresh. The tea will relax you and help red
uce inflammation. If you’d rather just have a massage, I’m happy to accommodate you, although it won’t be as effective without the herbal bath.”
“You want me to get into that tub of perfume water?”
“And submerge yourself to your chin for fifteen minutes. I’ll be back in a little while with your tea.” She left the room and pulled the door closed behind her.
The thought of dousing himself with lavender appalled him, but the muscle spasm wrenching his back made the decision for him. He struggled out of his soiled suit, scuffed shoes, and sweaty undergarments then scrubbed himself nose-to-toes with the soap and water she had provided. After rinsing clean, he tied a long thick linen around his hips.
An overturned crate and an old wooden trunk sat on the floor, forming steps beside the tub. Duke climbed them gingerly, testing his weight on them then stepped into the water—and realized too late the tub was deeper than it looked. And hot. He went under face first and came up like a roaring geyser.
“Gah!”
“Are you in the bath?” Faith called from the other side of the door.
“Bath? Ha! It’s a soup pot.”
She opened the door, but her beautiful smile froze when she saw him standing in the middle of the tub. “Is it that hot?” she asked, rushing forward to dip her hand in the water. She swished her fingers through the scented liquid and sighed. “Why, it can’t be much warmer than you are.”
“Believe me, it’s hot.”
Her face flushed and she turned away. “I’ll cool it some.” She set his tea on the table then lifted the long iron pump handle. She pumped it twice and cold water gushed from a fat spigot into the tub.
“You’ll need to sit to benefit from the bath.”
“And blister my behind? No thank you.” Despite the metal grate that kept his feet several inches above the bottom of the tub, the water was much warmer near the burner.
“For someone who can pull a man off his horse and wrestle him into submission one-handed, you’re ridiculously sensitive to a little warm water.”
“I spent twenty minutes in the bath before church,” she said, working the pump handle. “It felt perfectly lovely to me.” After a couple of minutes, she stopped pumping and unbuttoned her cuffs. “Will you treat Covey like you did Adam, and have him work for the horse owner to right his wrong?”
“No. This is his third offense.”
She pushed her sleeves to her elbows and submerged her hands in the bath water, moving slowly around the tub, swishing her hands around. “This ought to make the temperature more comfortable.”
Duke pointed to a linen bag floating near the spigot. “What’s in that sack?” he asked.
“Chamomile, lavender, agrimony and mugwort, with a liberal dose of almond oil. The herbs relieve stiff muscles and aching joints. The oil softens and soothes the skin. The warm water relaxes you. The oils also help keep the tub from rusting.” She lifted her hands out of the water. “That should be more than comfortable, Sheriff. Please sit down.”
He lowered himself cautiously until he was submerged to his neck.
“Are you sitting or floating?” she asked.
“Floating.” And aching in every way possible.
She leaned down and picked up a short-legged metal step stool. Long-limbed and lithe, her movements were as graceful as a dancer’s, and he couldn’t look away.
Sit on this. I’ll get your tea and a towel to put behind your neck.” She dropped the stool into the water and turned away.
He grabbed the submerged stool and dragged it under his bare bottom, feeling ridiculous in her big steamy bath.
“Pull it away from the edge so you’re forced to lean back,” she said, placing the cup of tea on the stand near him. “You need to keep your shoulders submerged.”
He scooted the stool out several inches and leaned back against the side of the tub. She rolled one of the linens and tucked it behind his head. “It must have taken you a week to fill this tub.”
“Several hours actually, but we share the duty between the five of us so it’s not so bad. Now drink your tea and relax. I’ll come back in fifteen minutes.”
“Stay.” He caught her hand to keep her from leaving. “If you can, that is. If you’re not too busy.”
“I think you’d be the first to note that it’s improper for me to be in here with you.”
“It will be more improper if I fall asleep and drown in your bathtub, Mrs. Wilkins.”
“Which is highly unlikely. But you’re the sheriff,” she added. She picked up the stack of linens, sat on the chair, and parked the towels in her lap. “What’s going to happen to that man who stole the horse?” she asked.
He sipped his tea and found it surprisingly pleasant. “He’s going to jail.”
“That’s sad. He looked young.”
“He’s twenty-three, and he’s been a troublemaker since childhood. He’s had ample opportunity to change his ways. Covey chose his path, and it’s led him straight to prison. And it’s about time.”
“I take it you’ve dealt with him before?”
“Many times. Five weeks ago Covey walked out of Taylor Hotel and stole a horse belonging to one of the guests. When I caught him in the act, he ran the horse at me like he did today in the park. I made the mistake of grabbing the horse’s bridle instead of Covey. When the horse reared, it jerked my arm up and wrenched my shoulder. Covey got away with the horse, which he promptly sold.”
“And you got a nasty shoulder injury.”
“Doesn’t feel so bad at the moment.”
She smiled. “I told you the bath would help.”
“Maybe it’s your pretty smile that’s making me feel better.” Why not enjoy his visits? He was attracted to her, and he could keep his duty separate from his personal business with Faith. To make sure he didn’t get preoccupied and miss something, he would make that call on Anna Levens and ask her to visit the greenhouse.
Faith’s lashes swooped down to cover her eyes.
“I meant to compliment you, not embarrass you, Mrs. Wilkins”
Faith straightened the stack of linens on her lap, and asked, “What made you want to be a sheriff?”
So much for compliments. “I wanted to redeem myself in my father’s eyes.”
Her lashes swept upward, her face lit with interest.
“It’s true,” he said, wanting to take their conversation to a personal level, admitting and accepting that he couldn’t resist her shy smile and pretty whiskey-colored eyes. He flexed his shoulders in the warm water, enjoying the heat that had nearly cooked his bacon earlier. “I was eight years old when I committed my first and last crime. I took a reel of fishing line from Brown & Shepherd’s store.”
“Well, that explains why you went easy on Adam.”
“Mrs. Brown has had more wayward boys working in her store to pay their debts than any store owner in town. I wasn’t the first boy to work off my mistake. I’d wager that Adam won’t be the last.”
“Did the sheriff make you work to pay for what you took?”
“My father did. He told me nothing can justify lying, cheating, or stealing. I promised him I’d live an honorable life from that day on, and I went right to the sheriff’s office and volunteered to be his deputy”
She smiled as if she appreciated his boyhood sincerity.
“The sheriff was kind enough not to laugh at me. He let me run errands for him when I wasn’t in school or working at my dad’s sawmill. When I turned fourteen, he had me sit as guard on weekends. Mostly I guarded an empty cell, or sometimes a local drunk who’d gotten tossed out of a saloon. I spent most nights reading law books. I got my deputy’s badge when I turned seventeen.”
“Your father allowed this?”
“I had spent nine years running errands for the sheriff, babysitting drunks, and studying law to get that badge. Dad knew how much I wanted to wear it.”
“But that badge put you in danger.”
“The sheriff kept me away from the nasty side o
f the job until I was nineteen. I helped him track down a bank robber. We put the man in jail, and I earned the sheriff’s respect. When he took a job in Buffalo four years later, he pushed me to run for the sheriff’s job. I won the election.”
“That must have been a proud day for your dad.”
“It would have been, but he didn’t live long enough to see me pin on my sheriff’s badge.”
She brought her hand to her chest. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize.”
Her compassion warmed him. Having lost her husband and mother, she must understand how the loss of his father tortured him.
“Dad died knowing I was fulfilling my promise to live an honorable life. I think that was enough for him.”
“I’m sure it was,” she said, but her eyes filled with sadness. “You can leave the bath now, Sheriff.”
Laying two thick towels over the table, she asked, “Do you mind waiting to dress? It’ll make it easier to massage your back.”
“Maybe you should stretch my shoulder, too.”
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I would recommend it, but it’s up to you.”
Forcing his sore muscles to stretch was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn’t wait for his shoulder to improve on its own. Resigned, he sat on the table. “Let’s get it over with.”
“You’ll have to lie on your back,” Faith said then turned herself away while he did so. When she turned back, she opened another linen and draped it over Duke’s hips and legs.
The sheriff glanced down and back up. “What’s that for?”
“I don’t want you catching a chill,” she explained.
“May I call you Faith?” he asked.
He was flat on his back, but the sheriff could easily overpower her. He could make her life miserable, run her out of town even, but it wasn’t his strength or position she was afraid of—it was allowing him to get too close. She should never have offered to treat his shoulder.
“May I?” he prodded.
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