Loving the Lawman (Roses of Ridgeway)

by Alexander, Kianna

  "Yes?"

  "Promise me you'll keep yourself safe until these brutes are caught." His eyes held such seriousness, it gave her pause. "Don't walk or ride alone in the darkness, and always be aware of your surroundings, alright?"

  She nodded, noting how relieved he looked to have her agree. "I'll do my best."

  "Good." He caught her chin in his hand, and lifted it gently. "Because if anything ever happened to you, I couldn't bear it."

  She trembled, and before she could form a response to his sweet words, his brought her up to his kiss.

  As his lips crushed against hers, she became lost in the sensation. Her insides seemed to be melting as he drew her even closer to the muscled lines of his body, his tongue delving into the cavern of her mouth.

  All sense of time and place fell away, until there was nothing in existence but the two of them, and his magical presence.

  When he pulled away, she was breathless, dazed.

  "Noah, about my being barren..."

  With a brief shake of his head, he dismissed her. "We don't have to talk about it."

  She sighed. "I want to know how you feel."

  His arms still around her, he averted his eyes. "I don't know how I feel about that. But I do know how I feel about you." There was something in his voice, a slight change in tone she could detect, but couldn't define.

  She felt the tears coming to her eyes. "Noah."

  Releasing her from his embrace, he stood. "I must get back to work. If I stay..." he paused, letting his eyes convey his desire, "I may never go back."

  That started the trembling again, but doing her best to ignore it, she responded quietly. "I understand. I'll see you later, Noah."

  He touched the brim of his Stetson, and with a few long strides across the grassy field, he was gone.

  Valerie remained at the pond for several long moments, not wanting to get up. As she gazed at the mallards, and listened to the soft sounds of the insects and the wind, she replayed the kiss in her mind, over and over again.

  **

  Rifling through the papers in the lower drawer of his desk, Noah, pulled out several documents and lay them across his desk. Finally, after all the tedium of filing paperwork, he'd found some cogent use for it.

  He thumbed through the copies of reports that had been filed in the neighboring towns. Each month, the sheriff in Oakland, which was twenty miles to their west, as well as the lawman in Marysville, located across the Sacramento River from Ridgeway, sent their report filings to him, and he responded in kind. The idea was to pick up on trends in crime that might lead to major arrests.

  When he'd been on the road outside of town the day Miss Smart had been found, seeing the broken trip rope had triggered something in his memory. He'd read about a similar recent incident in one of the neighboring towns. He couldn't recall where the crime had happened, but he remembered the report.

  He spent a few moments skimming the text of the each report until he came across the one he was looking for. It was from Oakland, referring to an incident that had taken place less than three weeks prior to Miss Smart's assault.

  Report Date: September 2,1883

  Taken by: G. Vickers, Deputy Sheriff

  A female citizen, Miss Clara Kane, asserts that she was riding alone at dusk, returning home from her family visit. Her horse fell victim to sudden injury- upon inspection the beast's forelegs were injured by a rope, which had been strung taut across the road. Hearing some sounds, Miss Kane ran back toward town, and was pursued. However when she reached the town borders, and engaged another citizen leaving the saloon, the unknown assailants fled.

  Actions Taken: Increased evening patrols by sheriff and appointed deputies, Miss Kane advised not to travel alone.

  The case was eerily similar to Miss Smart's, save for the fact that Miss Kane had been lucky enough to escape such horrid treatment. Setting the report aside, he shuffled his small stack of wanted posters.

  One caught his attention. His lawman's instinct began vibrating through him, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck perk up as his mind processed the information.

  The poster had the sketches of three men, known as The Bitters Gang. Beneath the men’s portraits were lists of their accused offenses. The first, "Crazy Charlie" Paul, was wanted for horse theft and armed robbery. The second, "Mad Joe" Nims, was wanted for attempted rape, assault on a female, and public drunkenness. Bud Bitters, the leader, was wanted for a long list of wrongdoing, including cattle rustlings, unpaid bar tabs, armed robbery, and more.

  Noah shook his head as he perused the charges. It seemed these three deviants aspired to the lofty goal of committing every crime known to man. He noticed that of all the crimes that had recently taken place in Ridgeway, each man in the gang had been accused of one of them in the past. Could it be that the notorious Thieving Three had set their sights on terrorizing his sleepy little town?

  He sat back in the chair, rubbing his cupped palm across his chin. He recalled the night Henry Carl's stallions had been stolen, as well as the snatching of Miss Parker's handbag. Whoever had stolen Ray's horses had been riding one of them when the purse snatching occurred, as the distinct Ridgeway Livery markings from the horseshoes had been left in the road.

  The door swung open as Ricardo returned from his coffee break. "Any new breakthroughs?" Ricardo eased into the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  "I think we're dealing with these nary-do-wells." He slid the wanted poster over the surface of the desk, toward Ricardo.

  Picking up the poster and examining it closely, the Spaniard shook his head. "Bitters' Gang, eh? I've heard of them. They're bad news, the lot of them."

  "I know. And I've got a feeling they will be back for more."

  "Don't worry. When they come back, we'll be ready." Ricardo's lips thinned, and he folded his arms over his chest. "No way are we letting them victimize anyone else in our town."

  Noah took a deep breath. Knowing that someone else was helping to shoulder the burden of the town's safety did much to ease his troubled mind. He rose from his desk, with the poster in hand, and strode over to the small closet near the hallway leading to the cells. After rifling around inside the semi-dark space for a few moments, he found what he was after: a hammer, and a small box of nails.

  "What are you about to do?" Ricardo rose from his chair, and followed him as he went to the wooden board mounted just outside the office door.

  "Something I've never had to do before. Hang a Wanted poster."

  "Can I help?"

  "Here, hold the nail."

  Ricardo's brow furrowed.

  He chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't smash your finger."

  With a bit of hesitation, Ricardo did as he was asked.

  Before Noah could drive the nail, however, a female voice called out to him.

  "Excuse me, Sheriff."

  Both men turned to see Mary McKee, Doc Wilkin's nurse, standing there on the walk.

  She spoke again, in her soft, quiet way. "Miss Smart is awake. The doctor wants you to talk to her."

  Noah handed the hammer over to Ricardo. "Looks like your fingers are safe from me for now. Hang the poster, then wait for me here."

  Ricardo nodded. "Give her my best."

  Reaching inside the door for his hat, Noah placed it on his head, then followed Miss McKee over to Doc Wilkins' clinic.

  Inside the space, he removed his hat again, and hung it on the coat rack near the entrance door. Following where Mary led, he was brought to the room in the back where Miss Smart was convalescing.

  The small room was lit by a stream of light flowing from the single small window in the back wall. Other than that, the space was fairly dark. In the center of the room, Janice lay on a short-legged bed, with Doc Wilkins sitting next to her on a wooden stool.

  "Sheriff, she's been talking a lot, and I think you ought to hear what she's saying." The aged doctor gestured to his patient, who lay with her eyes closed, mumbling something.

  N
oah grabbed an empty chair, and slid it close to the bed before sitting down. He looked over the schoolmarm, and was glad to see that a good deal of the swelling in her face had gone down. As a result, she looked more like herself, which he saw as a good sign. "How is she doing, Doc?"

  "Fairly well, considering what she's been through." Doc Wilkins sighed. "She suffered some internal damage to her female parts, from the ravaging, and I've treated her as best I can for that. Odds are she won't be able to bear young ones." He rose, fetching a damp cloth from a basin, and laid it on her brow. "Someone also struck her in the back of the head, and she suffered some trauma from that as well."

  He shook his head. Because of some crass brute's unspeakable acts, Miss Smart might be barren. He wondered what would become of her, so he asked. "What kind of effect has all this had on her?"

  "I'm not entirely sure. I'm a family practitioner, so this isn't my area of specialty." Doc Wilkins pushed his copper rimmed spectacles up his nose. "From my brief study, though, I can deduce that she's suffering from amnesia of some kind. She doesn't seem to know where she is, but she's been mumbling a lot. Every so often, she screams."

  She coughed, a rattling sound from deep within her petite frame. Then a string of words tumbled out in a rush.

  Noah's brow furrowed. "What is she saying?"

  Doc Wilkins shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't been able to make any sense of it."

  Noah nodded. Doc was a skilled physician, but he was also getting on in years; his hearing wasn't the best. Noah looked to Janice, hoping she would speak again, and he could make out what she said.

  Her eyes remained shut. She spoke again, and he understood her clearly. "Don't be so rough on her, Joe. Save some for me!" As the words left her, she writhed on the bed, as if fighting off some unseen assailant. Her legs kicking and her hips twisting, she clawed at the thin sheet covering her.

  "That's it." The old doctor covered his mouth with a hand. "Sweet Lord in heaven."

  Her private horror seemed to pass for a moment, and she stilled. The next sound that came from Janice's mouth was a deep, heavy sob.

  As she wept quietly, her eyes still closed, Noah felt his chest tighten. He knew the Christian tenets stressed forgiveness and mercy, but as he looked upon his neighbor, suffering from so much inner turmoil, he could muster neither for the people who had done this to her. His jaw in a hard set, he rose from his chair. "Thanks for calling me around, Doc." Part of him wanted to rush out, because it was so difficult seeing Miss Smart this way, but he paused. "Do you think she'll ever be herself again?"

  "Physically, her wounds are healing. As for her mind, there's no way to tell." Doc Wilkins looked up at him, his expression grim. “I've wired a psychiatrist over in Stockton. He'll arrive in town in the next few days ."

  He nodded, then left the way he'd come in, snatching his hat from the rack on his way out.

  Even though she didn't know it, Janice had just confirmed his suspicions.

  Bud Bitters' gang was responsible for all the chaos that had befallen his town, and they were going to pay with their lives.

  CHAPTER 12

  Wiping the back of her hand over her brow, Valerie set her paintbrush down in the empty can. Looking over her work, she felt quite pleased with herself. It was Thursday evening, just past seven, and she and the remaining members of the Ladies' Society had gathered in the old millinery shop to help Lilly make the final touches for the opening of her new dress shop. Behind her, Lilly, Prissy, and Prudence were busy with various tasks.

  Seated in a chair near the door was Deputy Simmons. Noah had insisted the deputy keep watch over the all-female gathering, for protection. Considering the recent events in and around town, none of the women had objected. He'd barely spoken the entire time, instead seeming content to read from the open book in his lap.

  She sidestepped and gazed out the window. Outside, the sky had taken on the ominous dark gray that preceded a storm. A clap of thunder sounded, and she knew the storm wasn't too far off. "We'd better finish up, girls."

  Lilly gathered up the old cloths that had been protecting the floor from paint splatters. "You're right."

  Gregory spoke, but didn't look up from his book. "Weather's taking an ugly turn. You ladies better pack it in."

  A flash of lightning punctuated his words.

  Prudence and Prissy appeared, dragging Lilly's sewing table from the storeroom in the back of the building.

  Prissy leaned against the oak table. "Where do you want this?"

  Lilly waved her hand. "We'll see about it later. We need to get on home before the weather gets too bad."

  The two women pushed the table against the far wall, and before they could even get it in place, the sky opened. From her vantage point at the window, Valerie could see the fat, heavy raindrops falling diagonally outside. "Oh, boy. Think we can wait it out?"

  Gregory put his book aside and stood, straightening the heavy looking gun-belt around his waist. He came to stand next to Valerie, and observed the scene outside. "It's pretty rough out there. We'd better wait a bit, see if it's just a passing squall."

  Valerie wiped her hands on the old apron covering her denims and work shirt, hoping to remove a bit of the white paint. She and the other girls tidied up as they waited for the storm to pass, or at least calm enough for them to get out of the building.

  When they'd put away their supplies, they all gathered behind Gregory, taking seats on one of the cloth draped tables Lilly would be using to display some of her goods.

  No one spoke.

  The wind howled like an angry wolf as big raindrops continued to fall, pelting the roof and windows like tiny stones. Thunder rumbled just overhead, signaling how close the storm was. Every few moments, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the darkened sky.

  In the past, Valerie had taken pleasure in thunderstorms. The sounds of nature had always brought about a sense of peace for her, and she'd often curl up in her window seat and take a nap as the storm raged outside.

  But this storm was different.

  There was something ominous in the swirling winds, heavy rains, and the rolling thunder. A dark, frightening edge that she'd never felt before.

  No, this wasn't just an autumn thunderstorm, passing through town to water the crops.

  This storm seemed more like an omen.

  In the semi- darkness of Lilly's shop, she raised her hand to her chest, and covered her heart with it.

  Something terrible was coming to Ridgeway, something much more frightening than a storm.

  In time, the sounds of the thunder grew fainter, and the rain slackened a bit.

  Prissy broke the silence. "Lordy. Feels like I been holding my breath this whole time."

  The others nodded in agreement, and Valerie wondered if they all felt the same sense of foreboding that had filled her. Thinking it better not to ask, lest she upset her friends, she kept her feelings to herself.

  Gregory clapped his hands together. "Alright, ladies. Into your cloaks so I can get you all home."

  As the girls shrugged into their outer garments, Lilly stifled a yawn. "I don't feel like riding all the way out to the farm. I'll take a room over at the Taylor."

  Prudence, who lived even a bit farther from town, giggled. "I'll be your room mate."

  Gregory opened the door, and held it for them. "After you, ladies."

  They filed outside, with Valerie going last. The softly falling rain felt cool on her face as they all crossed the street toward the Taylor Hotel.

  Once Gregory had seen Lilly and Prudence safely inside, he turned to her. "Miss Valerie, I'll see you to the mercantile, then I'll escort Miss Parker home."

  She nodded, and the three of them crossed the road in the opposite direction. A short trip down the walk brought them to the mercantile. Waving to Prissy and the deputy, she ascended the stairs to the upper apartment.

  Bernard was sitting in the kitchen, with a lit oil lantern and an open issue of Fireside Companion on the table. Next t
o his periodical was a steaming cup of coffee. "Evening, Val."

  "Hi, Papa." She leaned down to kiss his brow. "Where's Mama?"

  "Already gone to bed. You know how storms make her sleepy." He sipped a bit of the brew.

  Valerie yawned. "They make me sleepy, too. Goodnight, Papa."

  "G'night, honey."

  She squeezed his shoulders briefly, then slipped down the hallway to her room.

  While she lay in her warm bed, the rain continued to fall outside. As the remnants of the storm lingered on, so did the odd feeling of dread. Doing her best to dismiss it, she pounded her feather pillow a bit, then lay back down and waited for sleep to claim her.

  **

  Draining the last of his morning coffee, Noah set the cup down on his desk, setting eyes on the two men across from him.

  Greg was reclining comfortably in a chair, while the nervous looking Uriah Stevens paced back and forth, wringing his hands.

  "Uriah. Stop that before you wear a trench in my floor." Noah kept his eye on the young man, who had been pacing ever since his shift had begun a quarter of an hour ago.

  "Sorry." Uriah halted his steps, and dragged over an empty chair from the stack kept in one corner of the office. Sitting down, he managed to be still for only a few moments before he started wringing his hands again.

  "Alright. I'm going over to Cedarville to pick up the doctor coming in from Stockton."

  Greg's face registered his confusion. "Why can't he just take the stage?"

  Noah shook his head. "I've been wiring back and forth with the sheriffs in all the neighboring towns, and we've agreed to stop the stagecoach service until we smoke out the Bitters gang. No need to tempt them into committing more crimes."

  Greg nodded. "Sounds reasonable. How'd the coachmen take the news?"

  "They hate to lose business, of course, but they know the risk is just too high with those ruthless cads skulking about."

  Uriah grunted. "We'll catch 'em soon, Sheriff. They gotta slip up sometime."