“Something I am hoping to remedy soon.”
She lifted her chin. Thinking he’d have a chance to court her after she discovered him capable of this sort of senseless brutality confirmed that Sheriff Mayfield would never understand the sort of woman she was. “Please bring the doctor.”
Ten minutes later Dr. Richards blazed through the door, carrying his bag. “Why are you in the middle of all my emergencies lately, Miss Jackson?”
“This is only the second one. And you can’t really compare the two, can you?”
He turned to Sheriff Mayfield. “Open this cell and get him on the cot so I can examine him.”
Fifteen minutes later, the doctor exited the cell and shook his head. “He’s bruised, but nothing is broken, and as far as I can tell he’s not bleeding internally.”
Relief flooded over Rosemary. She turned to Sheriff Mayfield. “Is he free to go?”
“I was going to keep him overnight.” He frowned. “You know, I like you a lot, Miss Jackson, but I’m not accustomed to women telling me how to conduct my sheriffing.”
“I thought I liked you a lot too, Sheriff,” she said through clenched teeth. “But that was before you beat up a boy.”
“Good heavens.” The doctor headed to the door. “He’ll heal best if he spends a couple of days resting in bed. Otherwise, he’s not too bad off.”
When the door closed, Sheriff Mayfield smiled down at her. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that unless you plan to bring charges before a judge, you can’t keep him here. It’s not fair. I think he’s suffered enough, don’t you?”
His lips twisted into a scowl. “I reckon. If you say so. And as long as you’re not too angry with me to cancel our picnic tomorrow.”
Rosemary shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I am going back home tomorrow. As a matter of fact, we could use your help this evening with taking Agnes over to the boardinghouse. She and Marta will be staying there for a few more days while Agnes continues to recover.”
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” he said. “But of course I’ll be happy to help with Mrs. Fischer.” He walked her to the door. “And I deeply apologize for allowing my anger to override my judgment with Rolf. That only happens when someone I care about is hurt.”
“Sheriff Mayfield,” Rosemary said, surprised at his audacity, “you don’t know me well enough to speak to me that way. And besides, I wasn’t hurt.”
“That you know of. Mr. Clayton is a slippery fella.”
Rosemary narrowed her gaze. “How would you know? You’ve only been in town a little while.”
“The mayor told me all about the richest man in the township. Clayton’s had some questionable dealings with homesteaders much like you, and he’s come out better off than those he swindled. Why do you think he owns over a thousand acres?”
“If he is such a crook, why not arrest him?” Besides, something about the sheriff’s statement didn’t quite ring true. The mayor and Clayton were friends. It was doubtful that the mayor would malign his friend’s reputation, no matter how deserved.
He gave a short laugh. “A man like Clayton is a little smarter than your boy in there. He doesn’t get caught.”
“Every evil deed done in darkness will eventually be brought to light.”
“Is that in the Good Book you’re holding?”
“It certainly is. And it wouldn’t hurt you to read about the peacemakers.”
“You win, Rosemary Jackson.” He reached out and brushed away an errant strand of her hair. “He can go when he wakes up.”
“Wonderful.” Rewarding him with a smile she knew showed her dimple, Rosemary walked to the door. “I’ll ask Finn to bring the wagon round and drive Rolf back to the bunkhouse before he goes back to his own fields.”
The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying you’re taking Rolf back to your homestead? Are you daft?”
“I just believe in second chances, that’s all.”
He shook his head. “If I’d known you meant to take him back to your place, I’d have beat him up worse so he had to stay close to the doc.”
“Don’t say that, Sheriff.”
Rosemary left the office, disappointed by her discovery of Sheriff Mayfield’s true character. Finn might not love her the same way he loved Rachel, but at least in asking for her heart, he was honest about it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
...........................
Finn could barely contain his anger as he unloaded Rolf from the wagon and helped him into the bunkhouse.
“Please be gentle with him, Finn,” Rosemary said. Her kindness was almost more than he could bear. “Just remember, you put me out of your house and I still forgave you.”
“Rolf betrayed you. That’s different from asking you to leave. I didn’t exactly toss you into the cold.” He shook his head at the comparison. “I even made sure you would have a place to live. It just wasn’t where you wanted to live.”
She grinned at him teasingly. “I was raised to have my own green pastures. How could I have lived in a boardinghouse?”
“Many women do.”
“Not this woman.” She touched his arm. “Thank you for agreeing to take him home.”
He agreed to be kind to Rolf—although he couldn’t help but be a little glad the sheriff had taken the initiative and beaten him. At least now he knew that two men were looking out for Rosemary, whether she wanted them to or not.
Rolf could barely walk, so great was the bruising to his midsection. But the doc had said there were no broken ribs.
“Why is she allowing me back?” he asked Finn.
“Because she doesn’t think you really meant to betray her.” Finn’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “She is certain you’re sorry now and will come back to her side and be more loyal than ever.”
“She is right.” He struggled to speak through cracked, swollen lips.
“She’d better be.” But Finn had his doubts that Rolf could actually stop working for Bart Clayton. Men like that didn’t just let a person leave their employ—especially not a spy and saboteur like Rolf.
Peter entered the bunkhouse. His eyes grew big at the sight of his brother, then he turned and glared accusingly at Finn.
Finn shook his head. “I didn’t touch him.”
“After Mr. Tate left, I thought you would be in jail,” Peter said to Rolf.
“Not enough evidence to keep me,” Rolf said.
His words brought Finn’s anger back. He wanted to pound the guy into the ground. “A real man would have confessed,” he growled.
Rolf nodded. “Probably. But not if he wishes to stay alive and to keep his family alive. Which I do.”
“Miss Jackson will allow you to keep your position?” Peter’s tone sounded incredulous—exactly the way Finn felt. Personally, he felt she should publicly humiliate the boy and then fire him. That way no one else would hire him.
Observing Peter, he couldn’t help but wonder how the two brothers had turned out so different. “Are you keeping the sheep out of my field?” he asked.
“Yes. They are on the other side of the land.”
“Ian is with them now?”
Peter nodded.
“Get back out there, then, and help him keep the sheep out of my field. We’ll start building a fence tomorrow.”
“Mr. Tate…” The hoarse words drifted up from Rolf’s bunk.
Finn wanted to ignore Rolf, but he’d promised Rosemary that he would be kind, and for that reason alone, he turned his attention to the boy.
“Do you need something, Rolf?”
“I need to tell you about the receipt.”
His interest piqued, he walked to Rolf’s bunk and bent down. “Talk, then.”
Rolf explained why he’d taken the receipts, at the same time revealing Clayton’s scheme to steal Rosemary’s land. Sabotaging the sheep was only meant to be a distraction as Clayton worked out his plan.
Finn’s gut tightened with urgen
cy. “If you’re telling the truth and we avert this thing,” he said to Rolf, “you’ve just absolved yourself.”
He ran outside the bunkhouse. “Peter!”
The boy ran back. “Yes, Mr. Tate?”
“Take care of Rolf. And be nice to him.” He swung around, pulled Charity from her stall, hastily saddled the mare, and galloped into town at breakneck speed.
* * * * *
Rosemary hugged Agnes, and Agnes’s eyes misted as her children sniffled their good-byes to their mother. “You be very good for Fräulein Jackson,” she said, her voice still so weak that Rosemary wondered if she truly should be out from under Dr. Richards’s constant care.
Dottie Franklin had readily agreed to give Agnes one of the downstairs rooms and had brought in a cot for Marta to sleep on so she could be near her mother.
Rosemary was almost sure the elderly woman was disappointed when she discovered the children would not be staying. When the children were there she seemed livelier and less cranky, and baked treats every day. The children had taken to calling her “Miss Dottie,” and as each one hugged her good-bye on the porch, she gave them a treat.
“You children promise you’ll come back and see Aunt Dottie sometime.”
“We will,” Heinrich said. The young man had been quite a help to her, working in her garden and running to the general store for this or that. Rosemary knew he would miss town and Dottie as much as the elderly woman would miss him.
“I promise we’ll be back in a few days to visit,” Rosemary said.
Horse hooves pounded down the main street, kicking up dust.
“Land sakes. Someone’s in an all-fired hurry,” Dottie said. “Must be a fire or a new baby.”
Rosemary frowned and peered through the dust. “That’s my horse, Charity, and Finn is riding her.” Her chest tightened. “Something’s wrong.”
Charity was lathered and heaving as he pulled her up fast. In one fluid movement, he slid from the saddle and handed Afonso the reins. He grabbed Rosemary’s arm and pulled her away from the others.
“Finn, what is it?” She could barely breathe as she pictured the new barn burning, the sheep dead, her house demolished. “Tell me!”
“Do you trust me?”
Without hesitation, she nodded. “You know I do.”
“Then you and I need to leave right now, but not past the land office or anywhere Clayton’s people can see you, and that includes Sheriff Mayfield.”
“Tell me.”
“We have to leave the children, and you need to come with me to Montrose.”
“I can’t leave the children, Finn. Agnes is too ill. Dr. Richards said they will slow her recovery.”
“Fine, then. They’ll just have to come along.”
“Why do we have to go to Montrose? Everything in that town is right here in Paddington.”
“Everything but the preacher. He went from here to there, and he’s leaving in the morning.”
Rosemary stopped short and pulled her arm from his hand. “Finn Tate, stop this instant and explain yourself. Why on earth do we need to go to Montrose and find the preacher?”
Finn took hold of both her arms, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard on the lips. He held her out from him. “Because you, Rosemary Jackson, and I, Finn Tate, are getting married today. If you trust me, then just trust that I’m doing the right thing. I’ll explain on the way.”
Knowing there had to be more to this than Finn’s stubbornness, Rosemary didn’t argue anymore. By the time they reached Montrose and located the preacher having supper in the home of a Mr. and Mrs. Smith, he had explained everything and done any with all her objections.
The children fluttered about in excitement, and Mrs. Smith sat them all down, insisting that they eat. When the meal was over, Finn bent down and whispered something to Elsa. She ran outside and returned a couple of minutes later with a bouquet of wild roses, handing them shyly to Rosemary.
“Wait,” Mrs. Smith said. She reached into a drawer and drew out a pink ribbon. “A bouquet needs a ribbon.”
Rosemary took the wild-rose bouquet and smiled up at her groom.
They stood before the reverend with Heinrich Jr., Afonso, Elsa, Gerta, and baby Sarah as witnesses. They recited their vows and said, “I will.” Then the reverend pronounced them husband and wife. Finn bent down and kissed her softly on the lips.
Rosemary knew her cheeks were blooming, but she didn’t care. Everything had happened so fast that by the time they climbed back into the wagon and headed to her ranch, the sun had set, the children were asleep in the back of the wagon, and Rosemary cuddled Sarah to her, trying to take it all in.
Finn seemed tense next to her, and Rosemary didn’t know what to say. “I appreciate this, Finn,” she said.
“Don’t say it like that,” he said, his tone gruff.
“Like what?”
“As though I’m doing you a favor. Like this is a business arrangement.” He stopped the wagon and turned to her, slipping his arm around her. “When Rolf told me exactly how Clayton planned to waylay you next week on the day before you turned twenty-one, I realized that the very thought of him taking your land, stealing something you loved so much, was unacceptable. I also realized that if he won and you lost the land, I would lose you.”
Rosemary shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t have, Finn. I would have married you.”
He nodded. “I know I would have had you physically. But your fight would have been gone. You’d have always been disappointed. You would have helped me tend my land and build a home for our daughter and whatever children God blesses us with, but inside, you would be empty.”
Mindful of baby Sarah, who slept peacefully in her arms, Finn pulled her closer. “When I look at you, I see the only woman who could have stood her ground and taken that land and made me want to help her save it. It’s for you, Rosemary Tate. When I look at you, there’s only you. When I kiss you, it’s you I’m kissing. When I hold you, my arms are surrounding you. Only you, for the rest of our lives.”
As the moon glowed big and round overhead, Rosemary lifted her face for her husband’s kiss. He obliged, leaving her breathless and flushed and happier than she’d ever thought possible.
* * * * *
A week later, on the day before Rosemary’s twenty-first birthday, she and Finn drove the children into Paddington to reunite with their mother in the boardinghouse. Then they returned to the homestead. Rosemary missed the children, but she had to admit, it was nice to have her husband all to herself. Except for Sarah of course.
That evening they were sitting on the porch in the rocking chairs Finn had crafted for her as a wedding present when Mr. Clayton and his four men rode up to the house. The sheriff also rode with them. Rosemary and Finn stood and stepped to the edge of the porch. Finn was poised with his rifle, but they both hoped and prayed there would be no need for it.
The men approached, and the sheriff climbed down from his saddle.
“Sheriff Mayfield,” Rosemary said, “this is quite a surprise.”
At least he had the decency to look ashamed as he approached with papers. “Rosemary, according to these documents that Mr. Clayton has obtained, you are not old enough to legally make a claim on this land.”
Rosemary took the papers, which stated that at the time she’d made the claim, she had been only twenty years old—which was true. She hadn’t known that one of the questions in the paperwork indicated she was supposed to admit she was underage when she filed the claim.
“Yes, unfortunately, I became aware of this a week ago.” She met Sheriff Mayfield’s gaze. “Sheriff, I didn’t know I wasn’t of age to file.”
“I believe you.” He smiled at her. “But I’m afraid I’m duty-bound to ask you to pack up and leave the homestead.”
Finn eyed Sheriff Mayfield. “What Rosemary means, Sheriff, is that we discovered a week ago that Clayton learned about Rosemary’s age and meant to remove her from the land the day before she was of legal age, just
to be cruel.”
Clayton smiled his wooden smile. “Whatever my intentions, the law is clear and Miss Jackson can no longer file. I have put in my name on this plot at the land office. But I’m not an unreasonable man. I can give her twenty-four hours. That should be enough for her to simply move her things next door and for you two to go find the preacher. He can’t have gotten far.”
“Actually, Mr. Clayton,” Rosemary said, “my name is Mrs. Tate now. Not Miss Jackson. And I’m afraid you got to the land office for nothing. You see, my husband and I went to the land office in Williston the day after our wedding last week. As we explained our dilemma and showed my receipt, my husband Finn was able to file on the claim. You know they’ll let a man file twice as many acres now. So all we have to do is plant some trees and keep the improvements moving forward, and by the time our children are grown, we’ll have a virtual forest on this land.”
“I don’t believe you!” Clayton’s face turned purple with rage. “I demand to see the paperwork and the marriage certificate.”
“Certainly, as soon as you show us the proof of ownership of every acre of land you lay claim to, Mr. Clayton.”
The sheriff stepped forward, and Rosemary could see the humor in his eyes. “May I?” he asked, looking at the documents in her hand.
Rosemary nodded and he climbed the steps to the porch as she held out the documents. “Be my guest.”
Sheriff Mayfield perused the papers and turned to Clayton. “Looks legitimate to me. If you have any more complaints, you’ll have to take them up with the land office in Williston, because this is signed and stamped.”
“I’m not leaving here without seeing them put off this land.” Clayton stared hard at the sheriff. “Now you get to it and do what you were hired to do, or so help me, I’ll have your badge.”
Clayton’s men stood poised to fight, their hands resting on their pistols.
Mayfield stood next to Finn and pointed at the group. “Now, you listen here. I went along with your little scheme, and I’m ashamed I did. But these people are legally married and have legally filed on this land. Clayton, if you know what’s good for you, I suggest you turn around and ride off and forget about this claim. It’s not going to be yours.”
Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota Page 23