by Natalie Dean
If she had told Sam from the beginning about her Father, what he did for a living, the kind of company he kept, there would have been no need for him to speak to the Sheriff.
But, then, she asked herself. If she had told him either by letter when they first began corresponding, or by word of mouth as soon as she arrived, what would Sam have done?
If she had told him the truth by letter, he might have stopped writing altogether. May have decided that marriage to an outlaw’s daughter was not worth the hassle it would bring.
If she had told him the truth the day she arrived, she would have had to tell him about her father’s history with Sheriff Branson as well. If she did that, it was even more likely that Sam would throw her over.
She knew that Sam and the sheriff shared something like a bond. And, if Sam knew why the sheriff’s hatred of Fiona’s father ran so deep, perhaps he would take the sheriff’s hatred as his own.
A deep melancholy replaced the anger as she moved towards the hotel.
She realized now, even though these doubts still existed about what Sam might choose to do, she would have to tell him the truth. And, after the whole truth was laid bare at his feet, it would be up to him whether or not he wanted her to remain or leave.
When she entered the hotel’s lobby, her mind in firm set resolve, she was met by a figure that drove Sam almost entirely from her mind.
She did her best to suppress a gasp though her eyes widened and the blood drained out of her face as she came face to face with Sheriff Branson flanked by two deputies.
“Fiona Greyson,” Branson said in a serious and official sounding voice. “I’m arresting you on a charge of theft.”
Chapter 5
“Where is she?”
Sam rushed into the sheriff’s office, his heart racing and his breath coming in gasps. He had run all the way there from the hotel where Mrs. Matthews had told him what happened.
“Calm down Sam,” Branson said putting a paternal hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Sam shrugged it off and moved away from him.
“Where is my fiancé?”
Branson looked at Sam with a look of hurt on his face. A moment later, the older man nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.
“We’ve got her in the holding cell in the back room. She’s as comfortable as we can make her for now.”
“Why did you arrest her?”
Sheriff Branson did not answer right away. Instead, he sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest.
“Tell me, Sam,” he said finally. “Did your Miss Greyson tell you what her father does for a living?”
“She hasn’t mentioned it,” Sam answered honestly.
The sheriff nodded and sat forward in his chair once more. Sam felt a hint of something between curiosity and anxiety swell in his chest.
“Mr. Frank Greyson is wanted in four states back east for armed robbery,” Branson said. “They say he has a hideout in Tennessee, but no one’s been able to track him there. Not until your fiancé came along.”
Sam stood silent for a moment. He could not say that this news shocked him, exactly. He knew that Fiona and the sheriff must have had a history. And, he knew that, given Fiona’s reluctance to talk about her father, he must be involved in something not exactly of good standing.
Truth be told, robbery was a much lighter offense than some of the other possibilities Sam had been imagining.
And, besides that….
“You can’t lock up Fiona simply for her father’s crimes.”
“That’s true enough Sam,” Branson answered. “If I could, I would have arrested the girl as soon as you came to me the day she arrived. As soon as you told me her last name, told me she was from Tennessee, I knew who she was. That’s why I’ve kept a close eye on her. The apple never falls far from the tree, you see. I knew she would follow in her father’s footsteps eventually.”
Sam blinked in surprise.
“But, she hasn’t!” he said definitely. “Fiona hasn’t stolen anything. I’ve been with her almost from the moment she’s been here.”
“That’s also true,” the Sheriff said. “But, you weren’t with her two months ago when she left Tennessee to make her way to Laramie.”
“What happened two months ago?” Sam asked.
Branson sat back in his seat again and eyed Sam beadily, as though Sam were a suspect he was investigating.
“Where do you think she got the money to pay for those rings today?” he asked.
Sam blinked again as he remembered the large sum of cash she had pulled from her coin purse.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Sam asked.
“Well, as it turns out,” the Sheriff said. “A sum of that exact same amount disappeared two months ago from a bank in Applewood, Tennessee.”
At this news, Sam sank down into the chair across from the Sheriff’s desk.
What he was suggesting was impossible. No matter what her father had done, Fiona could never have robbed a bank or even participated in such a thing.
Even though he hadn’t known her that long, he knew her well enough to know that she simply did not have a malicious bone in her body. He could not see her harming a horsefly let alone threatening a bank manager with a loaded pistol.
Then again, a small voice in the back of his mind said, hadn’t she lied to him, at least by omission about her father? Hadn’t she hidden the money from him until it was needed at the jeweler’s shop?
“I realize this must be difficult for you, Sam,” the sheriff said. “But, you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. The best of us make mistakes.”
Sam looked up at Sheriff Branson, eyes narrowed.
“You can’t know for sure that Fiona’s money was the stolen cash from the bank,” he said defiantly.
Branson’s eyes went slightly wide, and he looked at Sam surprised. This was clearly not the reaction he had been expecting from the young man.
“Well,” Branson said slowly. “I suppose we won’t be sure of anything until we get her back to Tennessee.”
“Tennessee?” Sam asked.
“That’s where the crime took place,” Branson said. “So that’s where she’ll stand trial.”
Sam’s heart began to thud, and he felt his fingers dance along his trousers again just as they had the first day Fiona arrived.
“You…you could send her back when you have nothing more than a few bills from her purse?” Sam asked.
“The boys in Tennessee will want her anyway,” Branson said. “She might be the only person currently in custody who can lead them to Frank Greyson’s hideout. They won’t care why she’s being sent back to them.”
The wheels in Sam’s mind began to turn quickly. He couldn’t let Fiona go back to Tennessee. Not after she’d been so desperate to leave her life there behind.
But, try as he might, his desperate mind was useless to come up with any sort of plan.
“And, I suppose you’ve wired the authorities back east to let them know you have her?”
“I plan on having my deputy send a wire to them first thing in the morning.”
Sam nodded. Half a plan began to form in his head. But, before it went further, he knew there was one more thing he had to do.
“Can I see Fiona, please?” he asked quietly.
Branson’s eyes narrowed at him. The sheriff was now looking at Sam as though he thought the younger man had lost his mind.
“You still want to see her? After everything I’ve told you? Now that you know she lied to you?”
Sam looked down at his hands for only half a moment before turning his eyes back to Branson. His eyes narrowed in firm set resolve.
“Yes,” he said clearly.
Branson heaved a sigh.
“Well, all right then,” he said standing and fumbling with his keys. “Follow me.”
Slowly, Sam stood from his chair and followed the sheriff through the large wooden door and into the back room.
Chapter 6
There was only one cell in the jail house. And, inside that cell, there was only one, small cot.
That was where Fiona sat, her head in her hands, feeling as though she had run five hundred miles even though she had not moved in hours.
She had been so stupid.
It was stupid to think that she would be able to outrun her father’s crimes. It was very stupid to take the money her father had hidden.
But, above all, it was stupid to have fallen in love with an honest man.
She should have known months ago what was abundantly clear now.
No honest man would ever marry the daughter of an outlaw. No decent man could possibly shoulder the burden that a family like hers would inevitably place on him.
Early on, when she had first been thrown in this cell, Fiona thought about cursing the bad luck that had brought her into the path of Sheriff Branson, her father’s old nemesis, just when she thought she had left that world behind for good.
But now, after nearly an hour of reasoning, she decided that luck had nothing to do with it.
It was inevitable. Inevitable that the past would catch up with her. That Sam would discover who and what she really was.
Maybe it was in her blood.
Her father had told stories about her grandfather who had also been a liar and a cheat. Maybe there was no possible way to break the cycle.
With a heavy sigh, she flopped back on the cot and rubbed her eyes.
Either way, she knew, it didn’t matter now. Soon, she would be on her way back to Tennessee. And, she would probably never see Sam again.
Just as this thought crossed her mind, the wooden door to the room creaked open.
“Miss Greyson,” she heard Branson’s voice bark out. “You have a visitor.”
Heart pounding, Fiona sat up on the cot and turned towards the cell door.
There, with his hair disheveled and his eyes wide and shadowed, stood Sam.
A mix of elation and despair filled her as she stood and moved towards the bars of the cell door where he stood.
“Sam,” she said.
“Fiona, are you all right?” he asked urgently, putting his hands on the cell bars.
“I’m not injured if that’s what you mean,” she said.
As she spoke, she glanced at the sheriff who was still standing at the door. He kept his small eyes fixed on her as though waiting for her to do something unscrupulous. Sam’s eyes followed her gaze.
“Sheriff,” he said. “Would it be possible for us to have a moment alone?”
The sheriff’s eyes widened, and he glanced between Sam and Fiona.
“Are you sure, Sam?” Branson asked.
“Yes,” Sam said definitely. Even so, it was a moment before the sheriff moved or spoke.
Finally, he let out what sounded like an exasperated sigh.
“I’ll be in the front office,” Sheriff Branson said. “Knock when you’re finished.”
With that, he closed the door behind him, much harder than was necessary.
“Fiona, don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’ll get you out of here. I’ve got contacts in the newspaper business back east, maybe I can- “
“Don’t you want to know if it’s true?” she asked before he could say another word.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Fiona, you should know that I would never believe you capable of stealing from anyone,” Sam said. “I know the sheriff is wrong about you.”
If the moment were not so deadly serious, Fiona might have laughed at its irony.
Here was Sam, who constantly wanted to know the truth about her past now steadfastly refusing to discuss it. While she, who always avoided any mention of where she had come from, was desperate to tell him the whole tale.
“He’s not wrong about me,” Fiona said. “I did steal the money.”
Sam blinked again.
“I didn’t steal it from a bank,” Fiona said. “I stole it from my father’s home.”
Before Sam could answer, she told him the entire story. About how she had longed to run away from her father and his gang of thugs, about her decision to place her ad in the booklet without her father’s knowledge. About her running away when her father had disappeared on another one of his jobs. And, finally, about the money she had found beneath the floor board in his home.
“I wanted to have my own money,” she explained. “There were a million things that might go wrong on a journey west. I wanted to make sure I was protected. Plus, I felt like he owed it to me, for all the hard times he put me through.”
Sam sat silent for a moment. Fiona bit her lip and braced herself.
Surely, this was the moment he would tell her. This was the moment he would say that he could not marry her. That the stain of being married to a woman with her past was too great. The burden was too much to bear.
Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw a wide grin spread across Sam’s face.
“But, that’s wonderful!” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“If you took that money from your father’s home and not the bank, they cannot prove that it was stolen!” he said. “Not to mention, Branson said that the bank was robbed the day you left for Laramie. That means you couldn’t have been involved! He can’t hold you!”
Fiona shook her head, still slightly shocked by his response.
“Even if what you say is true,” she said. “Branson will find some other way to send me back home. He’s been trying to get to my father for years.”
Sam’s face fell slightly.
“Why?” he asked. “That’s what I still don’t understand. What does the sheriff have against your family?”
Fiona swallowed hard and moved back to her cot, sitting down on it hard.
“My father killed his brother,” she said quietly. “I was very young when it happened. Maybe three or four years old. Still, I remember the day my father came rushing into the home where mama and I were living. I hadn’t seen him in months. Truth be told, I hardly recognized him.”
She blinked hoping that the quick flutter of her eyes would sooth the image of her father as he had been that day. White faced and frightened.
“He told Mama that he’d shot the sheriff in town and he would have to go on the run. Mama was helping him pack when Branson came to the door. I pulled it open even though Mama told me not to. Branson pushed in past me, his pistol drawn. He went into the room where my Father was but, it was too late. My father had already jumped out the window. He was just a speck in the distance when Branson fired a shot at him. He’s been after my pa ever since. But, I suppose he’ll settle for me.”
Sam was silent again. He was looking down at the ground. His eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Even so,” he said finally. “He can’t send you back to Tennessee for no reason. I won’t let him.”
He looked up from the ground, and his eyes met hers.
That tingling sensation rushed down her spine again, and her first instinct was to rush towards him and thank him for believing in her. To tell him that she could not wait to marry him.
But, then she remembered what she had realized the moment the sheriff had shoved her into this cell.
No honest man could ever marry her. Her blood was tainted with corruption and murder.
She could not saddle Sam with her father’s sins.
“Perhaps,” she said slowly. “Perhaps this is for the best, Sam.”
His ruddy face went pale.
“Fiona, how can you say that?” he asked. “Surely you don’t want to be sent back to Tennessee. And in chains like a criminal, no less.”
“It’s not about what I want,” she said. “Someone has to pay for my father’s crimes.”
“If anyone is going to pay, it should be your father. Not you,” Sam said fervently.
“And how am I any different?” Fiona asked. “I stole from my father. I knew it was wrong. I knew he had probably stolen the cash to begin with. But, I did it an
yway. It runs in our family, don’t you see? If you and I were to have children, they would be the same as my family.”
“I don’t believe that,” Sam said urgently.
“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Fiona said. “It’s true. You cannot fix what has been broken for generations.”
“Fiona, you’re not like your father,” he said. “You could prove it to yourself if you stayed here. Built a life here…with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you came here…to get away from that life.”
She looked at Sam’s eyes. Wide and open, more trusting than she had ever known them to be. She felt tears fill her own eyes. She swallowed them back.
“What I want is to go back to Tennessee,” she said. “That’s the only way I can make things right.”
“Fiona- “
“There’s no point discussing it, Sam,” she said. “I’ve made up my mind. Now, I think you should go home and rest. It’s been a long day.”
With that, she laid back down on her cot and turned her back to him.
It was a long while before she heard Sam walk to the door. Even longer before she heard him rap on the door to be let out.
It wasn’t until Fiona heard the door close behind him that she pressed her eyes closed and allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks.
Chapter 7
There was only one place in Laramie to go when one was facing an emotional crisis.
Sam knocked on Pastor Rhode’s door just as he and his wife were clearing the plates from the dinner table.
Neither Pastor Elijah Rhodes nor his wife, Agatha, were surprised by this late visit. More than once, troubled young men and women from Laramie had come knocking on their door needing assistance or advice.
Now, Sam was sitting at the Rhode’s kitchen table cradling a cup of hot tea Agatha had made before leaving the men to talk.
When Sam had laid bare his entire plight, the good pastor took it much better than Sam had anticipated.
“Believe it or not, Sam,” Rhodes said. “Your story is one I’ve heard before. And not only because I am a pastor and therefore a confidant to the entire town.”