December Love

by Mildred Colvin

  “You need to see Dr. McCowan.” Oswald rose from the bench he’d been sharing with Zack and Ida and warily approached Will. His brother-in-law’s reunion with his wife nearly got him killed this morning.

  “First, I intend to have a word with Murray.” The last time he’d seen the scoundrel a young deputy was escorting him to the doctor’s to have his foot looked at. If he wasn’t there, Will knew where to find him. “After that I’ll see about visiting the doctor myself.”

  “Let me go with you, Father.” Zack said before he turned and gave Ida’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll meet you back at Aunt Mabel and Uncle Oswald’s house.”

  A worried look crossed Ida’s sweet face. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  “No,” Will ordered. He didn’t need anyone else getting hurt. “You stay with the family. I can take care of this myself.”

  “Now, Mr. Logan.” The sheriff threw his cloth onto the desk and narrowed his eyes. “We’ve had enough trouble in town today.”

  “I’m not going to cause you any more trouble. I just need to set things straight.” Will tramped across the office floor and paused at the door. “I want to have a few words with the scoundrel.”

  ~*~

  Other than the occasional outburst of voices coming from the front of the building, it was quiet in the back section of the jailhouse. The cells were cleaner than Florence imagined. Not that she’d ever put any thought into the cleaning rituals that went into running such a place. Without any chairs to sit on she gave in and took a seat on the cot. Apparently a thin mattress covered by a rough blanket was meant to serve as both bed and settee.

  Alone and afraid, she released a deep sigh and buried her face in the palm of her hands. Her strong resolve to stand up for herself had unraveled faster than a ball of yarn left to a litter of kittens. She’d really messed up this time and in front of Will of all people.

  What was he doing in town? Mabel must have told him she’d gone to Fort Worth. No, as much as she wished it were true, real life wasn’t like some romantic dime novel. He wouldn’t come chasing after her. He must be here to see the doctor. Zack and Ida had been there as well. In all the chaos of the morning, she hadn’t been able to speak with any of them. The look of shock and horror on Will’s face said it all. She was a disgrace.

  Arrested.

  One of Chicago’s most prominent business women behind bars in a small Texas town ... that was sure to make headlines. She was finished, but her career didn’t matter. Not now, not ever really. Her true desire was for her heart to be set free to enjoy a life with those she loved.

  A verse she’d learned as a child came to mind.

  “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, lean not unto thine own understanding but in all thy ways acknowledge Him and He will direct thy paths.”

  Florence raised her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She wasn’t alone. As a child of God, He was always by her side. This time she bowed her head and prayed for God’s guidance.

  Keys rattled outside the door. The lock turned, and the sheriff entered the hallway. “You have a visitor.”

  Was it Will? Her heart fluttered. She straightened the skirt of her dress and then used her hand to press her hair in place. A man she’d never seen before approached her cell. Tall and thin, his weathered features showed his age. Clothed in an expensive dark suit, he wore a somber expression on his face. His eyes took in the cell, lingering on her for a moment before he turned to the sheriff. “Open the door, Roger.”

  The lawman pulled a ring from a hook on the wall next to the door. The clanking of jingling keys drew her eyes from her visitor. She cringed at the size of the bruise on the sheriff’s face. He fumbled through the set until he found the one needed.

  “Mrs. Foster, I’m Carl Stevens. Oswald asked me to represent you in court.”

  “Court?” Florence gasped. She squeezed her hands on the cot’s metal frame. Of course, she was in jail, but surely paying a fine would be enough to settle any law she may have broken. She’d fired a gun in town. It wasn’t like she’d robbed a bank. Court was for criminals, outlaws, and greedy people with no future.

  “It’s simply a preliminary hearing to be held before the judge.” Mr. Stevens explained. “I strongly doubt there will be any charges filed against you. From what I gather, after speaking with Mabel and Mrs. Bradley, Mr. Murray would be wise to drop any complaints he might have against you. Sheriff Ralston has already consented to do so in regards to his personal injuries just as long as you promise to leave town once the judge grants your freedom.”

  Her shoulders slumped under the weight of his words. She blinked back tears and raised her chin. This was more serious than she’d imagined. All she’d wanted was to protect herself from being blackmailed, and yet she was the one to stand trial!

  “Have no fear.” At least her lawyer appeared professional and seemed to have things well in hand. “The complainant is to meet with me this afternoon in my office. Once I explain the charges we will file against him should he file against you, I’ve no doubt he will recant. Just leave it to me.”

  ~*~

  Will stormed into the Golden Slipper Saloon. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior. He ignored the customers’ stares and whispers as he scanned the room. Just as he expected, Murray sat in the back corner with a bottle in one hand and a shot glass in the other. He looked up from his drink and a fake smile quickly replaced the look of surprise on his face.

  “Howdy, Mr. Logan.” Murray squared his shoulders and greeted Will while he approached the table. As if there was nothing wrong, he tipped his head toward a chair where he’d propped his left leg. He only wore one boot. His left foot was wrapped in a bandage. “Quite an interesting morning, wouldn’t you say?”

  Will crossed his arm over his chest and stood silently. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. The surroundings of the saloon seemed to slip away as he focused on Murray.

  “I’m surprised to see you this far from the ranch.” Murray shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Care to join me for a drink?”

  Without saying a word, Will continued to glare at the crook. As much as he wanted to yank the man from his chair and teach him some manners, this wasn’t the time or place. Will wasn’t a violent man, but the thought of Murray upsetting Florence, threatening her, following her from one town to another chilled his blood.

  “I never touched her.” Murray set the bottle down and raised the palm of his hands.

  “You took money from her.”

  “We had what you could call a business deal.”

  Will made a fist and stepped forward. Murray leaned away and brought up his elbow to shield his face. From somewhere near the bar a woman let out a sharp gasp. Surprise and shame washed over Will. He was standing in a saloon ready to get into a fist fight. All his adult life he’d tried to teach his boys to follow Christ by living a godly life. Fighting was not the way to handle this situation.

  “That’s right, walk away.” Murray’s voice rose with each step that took Will farther away and closer to the exit. “I did nothing wrong and there’s no one that can convince me otherwise. The crazy woman shot up my foot for no reason. She’s where she belongs.”

  Outside where the air was fresh, sunlight nearly blinded Will’s eyes. He crossed the street to get as far away from Murray and the saloon as possible. While taking a deep breath he scanned the area and pressed a fist into the burning ache in his upper abdomen. He sucked in air through his clenched teeth and checked his pocket watch. Three more hours before the judge could see Florence. He’d have to be patient. Meanwhile, he’d promised the family he’d see the doctor about the pain in his heart that flared up without warning.

  The diagnoses he’d gotten back home had been as useful as a bucket of dried leaves for putting out a fire. It had come as a shock, but he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. Will had lived a long and prosperous life. His boys were grown and able to handle every aspect of the ranch. At this s
tage, whether he lived or died didn’t make much difference … until he met Florence. Now that there was a sliver of a chance at winning her heart he had something to look forward to, someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was time to see a real doctor and get this heart situation settled. Then he’d be able to pursue the real desire of his heart, if that was God’s will.

   

   

   

   

  Chapter Eight

   

   

  This time the sound of keys rattling caught Florence off guard. She raised her head and let her hands settle onto her lap. For the first time since leaving the Logan Ranch peace cloaked her like a shield. Bathed in prayer, she was ready for whatever awaited her.

  “Court ended early today.” It was Sheriff Ralston, and he was alone this time. He glanced her way before unlocking the cell. The iron bars creaked as he swung the door wide open. “Judge Jordan says he can see you in his office now.”

  Florence rose to her feet. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and paused. The sight of the lawman’s face caused her to cringe with guilt. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “What?” His brow creased with confusion. He’d backed into the hall, waiting for her to exit the cell.

  “Your nose,” she pointed toward the red swollen spot on the side of the man’s long nose.

  “I’ve had worse.” He mumbled and used his hand to motion for her to join him in the hallway. “Get your things and let’s get going. You don’t want to keep the judge waiting. He wants to wrap this up before lunchtime.”

  All she had was her purse and the book responsible for breaking the lawman’s face. Her cheeks warmed with shame. She gathered her belongings and followed him through the office and outside the building. The sun was bright and the streets were filled with carts as well as men on horseback. A busy little town, but nothing compared to Chicago. Still, Fort Worth was far more active then Mesquite Gulch.

  With few words spoken, the sheriff marched across the street to the courthouse. With her head held high, Florence kept her eyes trained on his back as she followed. Instead of entering through the front of the building, they went around to the side alley where a door led right into the Judge’s chambers.

  Heavy curtains covered the windows. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the room. After a moment, she noticed Mabel and Oswald as well as Mrs. Bradley seated on a couch next to a bookshelf. Mabel gave her a quick nod. The smile on her friend’s lips brought tears to Florence’s eyes. It was good to see a familiar face. With a wave of his hand, the sheriff instructed her to take a chair facing the large mahogany desk in front of the windows. She glanced around the room as she took a seat, but there was no sign of Will.

  How silly of her to expect him to be there. He’d made his feelings, or lack of them, clear when he let her leave the ranch. She squared her shoulders and gave Mabel a tight smile. How she wished they could chat, but a heavy silence permeated the room.

  It wasn’t long before the interior door opened and the judge entered. She assumed he was the judge. A large man with a round face and a kind smile, he wore his dark cloak open in the front. A plaid shirt and pants tucked into the tops of his boots were a stark contrast to his formal robe.

  It struck her that this was a man Will would like … appropriate yet practical. Not afraid to be his own man. She wished Will was here. Oh, why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

  “Good morning,” Judge Jordan made his way across the floor and rounded the desk. “Are we ready to begin?”

  “No, your honor, we’re waiting on Mr. Stevens and one more person.” The sheriff answered and continued to explain as the judge took his seat. “My deputy went to get him. They should be here shortly.”

  Mr. Stevens, her lawyer, had sounded confident about the outcome of her case when he spoke with her in the jailhouse. What if he didn’t show up? As fear started to rise in her chest she recalled her time in prayer. This was in the Lord’s hands. There was no need for her to fret. Whatever God’s will, that’s what she wanted.

  A knock came on the outer door and butterflies filled Florence’s stomach until she saw who was responsible for the sound. Murray filed into the room followed by her lawyer and a young man with a badge pinned to his shirt. Her tormentor wore a sullen expression and kept his eyes on the carpeted floor as he hobbled to a seat against the back wall. The room was large, but the crowded chambers couldn’t hold many more people.

  “All right, now that we’re all here, let’s proceed.” Judge Jordan folded his hands and leaned back.

  It didn’t take long for Mr. Stevens to lay out the case. He had both Mabel and Mrs. Bradley confirm the facts. When it came time for Murray to give his side of the story sweat beaded his brow and his eyes darted about the room.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” the judge bellowed.

  Murray jumped from his chair and bolted for the door. The young deputy made a move to block him, but he easily pushed the lawman aside. Sheriff Ralston pulled his gun and one of the women on the couch screamed.

  The door opened just as Murray reached for the handle. Will’s solid frame filled the entrance. Cursing under his breath Murray came to a halt and the sheriff pulled out his handcuffs.

  “Am I late?” Will’s confused gaze darted about the room until landing on Florence.

  Ignoring the quickening of her pulse, Florence tore her attention from Will and turned to face the judge. Mabel motioned for her brother to join her and Oswald on the couch. Although he crossed behind her, Florence was aware of every move Will made as he took his place.

  “Under the circumstances, I believe it’s advisable to drop all charges.” Mr. Stevens spoke once the chaos in the room settled down.

  “I agree. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a lunch appointment.” Judge Jordan pushed his robe off his shoulders and stood. “Mrs. Foster, you are free to leave. Mr. Murray, I will be seeing you in court.

  “Deputy,” Sheriff Ralston ordered his assistant. “Lock this man up.”

  ~*~

  Like a flock of birds spooked from the bushes, Mabel and Mrs. Bradley swarmed Florence, congratulating her with hugs and well wishes. Oswald shook the Judge’s hand and promised he’d lock up. Apparently satisfied their work was done and ready for lunch, the judge, the lawyer, and the lawman slipped out of the room.

  Will frowned. Florence hardly looked his way. Perhaps she was uncomfortable having a crowd of folks staring at them. Or maybe … his jaw clenched. Maybe she was shutting him out. Distancing herself, just as he’d done the last time he’d spoken to her at the ranch.

  He had accepted her leaving without a fight when he thought his ticker was on its last leg, but he wasn’t about to let her get on her sense of propriety and ride away from him again. Will squared his shoulders. Florence wasn’t going to get away, not if he had any say in the matter.

  “Excuse me,” he pushed his way into the circle. “If you ladies don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Florence.”

  “Will,” Mabel huffed as she ignored his request. “Have you been to see the doctor yet like you promised?”

  “Yes, I just came from his office.” His sister’s lips thinned as she waited for him to divulge more information. Florence hung back, but her eyes remained focused on him. “He says not to worry. All I need is to find a cook who won’t try to kill me.”

  “What?” Mabel’s eyes glared with indignation.

  “Take it easy, Sis.” A chuckle spilled from his chest. It felt good to laugh. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been able to so freely. “The doctor said I need to stop eating spicy foods. Other than that he thinks I’ve got years of life left in me.”

  Mabel threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you listened to me.”

  “What?” He pulled away from Mabel and caught a glimpse of Florence wiping the palm of her hand across her eyes before she turned away. Was she crying?

  “Rememb
er,” his sister proudly reminded him, “I was the one who suggested you see another doctor.”

  Yes of course she was right, as always, but all he wanted was to speak with Florence. Somehow he needed to get alone with her. Before he could come up with a polite reason to be alone with the woman he loved, Oswald stepped between them. “Wife, let’s go get something to eat.”

  “Alright, I just wanted ...”

  “We’re serving beef stew at the inn.” Mrs. Bradley caught on quickly.

  A light of understanding shone in Mabel’s eyes, and a smile spread across her face. “Oh, I see.”

  Finally, they were alone. As if to follow her friends, Florence reached for the purse she’d left on her chair. Will stepped forward, blocking her way. She gave him a questioning glare, but before she could speak he cupped the side of her face in the palm of his hand and placed a soft kiss on her lips. It was tender and brief, but so sweet. She leaned toward him and placed her hand on his chest. Encouraged, he wrapped his other arm around her waist.

  When he pulled away, her eyes were closed and a hint of a smile lingered on her lips. He cleared his throat and her eyes opened wide. A blush crept up the length of her neck as she blinked rapidly.

  “I’m glad your visit with the doctor went well.”

  “Not half as glad as I am your visit with the judge went well.”

  A smile tugged on the corner of her lips until her whole face blossomed like a spring rose. He liked making her smile, and looked forward to years of doing so, but he had to get her to see things his way first. The ranch needed a woman like her, someone to brighten the place up while adding a woman’s touch. He needed her.

  “I’m afraid I made a mess of things.” Her sweet voice pulled him from his daydreaming.

  “Nothing is messed up.” He feigned confusion and glanced about the room as if searching for something needing fixed. “As far as I can tell everything is perfect.”

  “Will, I want to apologize for the way I left the ranch.” She clutched her purse to her chest as she spoke. “We’ve become good friends and you deserved better. You had so much on your mind, being sick and believing you were going to die ...”