The Lawman's Runaway Bride

by Patricia Johns

  Carson and Chris Ellison had been identical rascals when she’d known them. Loud, boisterous, but with the biggest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She used to take great pleasure in dressing them up as angels for the Christmas pageant every year...even if they were the noisiest angels to ever step foot on the stage.

  “They were in kindergarten when I taught them Sunday School,” she said, taking a bite of creamy soup.

  “Eighth grade is a lot less adorable,” Chance said with a small smile.

  The front door opened and shut, the bell overhead tinkling. Sadie glanced up to see Ralph Harrison come into the shop. He was an older rancher, who owned about eight hundred acres of cattle ranch land nearby. He wore polished cowboy boots, and his blue checked shirt was tucked into his jeans. Ralph glanced at the counter where the girl was waiting to take his order, and then he spotted Chance and he headed in their direction.

  “Howdy, Chief,” Ralph said with a nod. “Good to see you.”

  “You, too, Ralph.”

  The men exchanged a few pleasantries, and Sadie listened in silence. Ralph Harrison was a wealthy rancher who didn’t defer to many, but she heard the note of respect in his gravelly voice when he’d addressed Chance. And Chance spoke with Mr. Harrison like an equal. Five years ago, there’d been a pretty large gulf between the two men socially. That gap seemed to have closed. They finished up their short conversation and the older man tipped his hat politely at Sadie.

  “Ma’am,” he said with a nod, and then headed back over to place his order. Sadie watched him go.

  “You’ve come up in the world, Chance,” she said quietly.

  Chance met her gaze for a moment, then smiled. “A bit.”

  “Do you need me to call you chief in public?” She was only half teasing. A lot had changed around here if wealthy ranchers were treating Chance Morgan like an equal. He’d obviously earned respect around Comfort Creek, and she’d have to catch up.

  He laughed softly. “Only if you’re going to boss around my officers.”

  She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her first instinct wasn’t always the best choice...something that hadn’t changed, apparently. “I am sorry about that.”

  “Forget it.” He picked up his sandwich. “Weren’t we going to talk business?”

  Sadie nodded, took another spoonful of soup, then wiped her lips with a napkin.

  “I had an idea for the ceremony, actually,” she said. “I know you aren’t crazy about this ceremony at all, but if you’d just hear me out on this one...”

  “Shoot.” He took a bite of his sandwich.

  “I was thinking we could have some simple write-ups about each of the young men,” Sadie said. “While those introductions to the men are being read, I’d like to have each man’s favorite song being played in the background—an introduction to him as a person, not just as a serviceman. I’d also like to have some pictures of family put up onto a large screen, too. Before they joined them military they were boys, teenagers—”

  “No.” Chance’s expression hardened.

  “It would be tasteful, Chance,” she said. “I know you don’t want things to get overdone, but—”

  “I said no.”

  She’d expected this reaction, considering what he’d said during their last meeting, but it was a little too late to take this back. She’d already pitched the idea to the mayor, who loved it. It was now up to her to get Chance onboard.

  “I think it would be fitting to show these men as more than their careers, though,” she said. “They were certainly more than that to Comfort Creek.”

  They were moving away from their earlier comfortable dynamic, and Chance’s posture was straightening, growing more rigid. He put down the sandwich and wiped his fingers on a napkin.

  “I told you before,” Chance replied, his voice controlled and low. “My brother’s personal photos—his memory—are not for public consumption.”

  “He deserves to be remembered, though,” she countered.

  “And he is remembered.” Chance shot her an irritated look. “If he turns into some sentimentalized meme article online, it isn’t his memory that will be passed around, it’ll be something else... I don’t even know what. I don’t want my brother’s personal history being used for someone else’s agenda.”

  “What if we banned cameras?” she suggested.

  “Have you asked the mayor about that?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “He won’t go for it,” Chance said. “The mayor has his own agenda, too.”

  “Is this because of me, Chance?” she asked. “If the mayor had hired another event coordinator—”

  “No, it isn’t personal, Sadie. This has nothing to do with you.”

  His word choice stung. Nothing. She didn’t have a right to grieve for the man she’d walked out on, but she didn’t believe him, either, that he wasn’t being just a little more difficult than he would have been with just about anybody else.

  “What if I could guarantee that there would be no cameras present, and the ceremony wouldn’t be recorded in any way?” she said. “Would that make a difference for you?”

  Chance sighed and looked away. It wouldn’t make any difference—she could tell. Why was he digging in like this? The town wanted to honor his brother, nothing more. Noah had been loved, as had the other young men, and Comfort Creek wasn’t taking their sacrifices for granted. That should matter.

  “Sadie, can we just have a dignified military ceremony, please?” he asked quietly. “Leave the personal stuff out of it.”

  “Actually...” It was time to come clean. “Chance, I’m really sorry, but I already suggested the personal slant to the mayor.”

  “And he loved the idea,” Chance concluded woodenly.

  “He did.”

  Chance closed his eyes for a couple of beats, and she could see the exhaustion written all over his face. He opened his eyes again and fixed her with an unreadable look.

  “The mayor thought it would honor our heroes,” she said when he’d been silent for a moment or two. “The intention is positive.”

  “Yeah,” Chance said. “Got it.”

  “Chance, why?” She leaned forward, catching his eye and holding it. “Why is this so hard for you?”

  Chance heaved a sigh. “Because I don’t like to do my grieving in public, Sadie. As police chief, I have a very public job, but that doesn’t mean I’m the kind of guy who likes to share the most personal parts of myself with the whole town. My twin brother—his death—that’s one of the private things.”

  He’d always been a private man. Even when she’d been dating Noah, she used to enjoy trying to pull Chance out of his shell. He didn’t give up his thoughts or feelings easily. He hid them behind that professional mask of his, and it was easy to forget that it was just that—a mask. There were real feelings under there.

  “If I’d known...” She should have known...she could see that now. She’d been gone for five years, and she’d forgotten too much.

  “You might have if you’d bothered coming back before now.”

  “Well, I’m back now,” she said. What else could she do?

  “Just in time to put together a commemorative ceremony for the family you didn’t want to be a part of.” His expression was grim. “Look, Sadie, I don’t mean to be a jerk, but you’re not the right person to be planning this ceremony.”

  “Maybe not,” she said curtly. “But I’m the one the mayor hired.”

  He nodded. “True.”

  “So where does this leave us?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s changed,” he replied with a shake of his head. “We have to work together, but first, I’m going to talk to the mayor myself. That personal slant has to go.”

  That was fair enough. She didn’t really care if the ceremony had a personal element or not. What she cared
about was honoring the fallen men and making sure Mayor Scott was happy with her work. Her guilt and her tangled feelings when it came to Chance Morgan would all have to wait until she could sort them out privately. She had to keep her head clear and do her job.

  Chapter Five

  Chance waited until after dinner before he drove toward the mayor’s house on an acreage outside of town. The sun was slipping down below the horizon, dappling the sky with pink and orange that spilled over the snow-laden fields. He liked this time of day—when it felt like the sunset was painted just for him.

  Lord, I wasn’t ready for her...

  That was the problem with all of this. He could have handled the mayor on his own, but with Sadie in the mix, everything felt out of control. And it didn’t help that with her back in town, he was dealing with all sorts of emotions he thought he’d safely sealed away—anger at the woman who broke his brother’s heart, guilt over his role in her escape, grief over his brother’s death and most uncomfortable of all was that empty hollow loneliness that had been left behind when Sadie left town. No goodbye. No warning. At the very least she could have explained herself. But nothing. She’d just left. And he couldn’t tell anyone—especially not his brother—what that did to him.

  He’d felt incredibly guilty as he helped his brother empty Sadie’s things out of his home, because while he was comforting Noah, he felt that hole she’d left behind, too. And after he’d gone back to his own house again, he’d sat there alone, feeling that ache deep in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He was supposed to be angry on his brother’s behalf. He knew what he was supposed to be, but that didn’t change facts.

  Well, now Sadie was back, and her presence made everything more difficult. She shouldn’t be the one in charge of anything to honor Noah, but she was. And she had the mayor wrapped around her finger. Sadie was still just as pretty and full of life as she’d always been, and somehow that seemed wrong. Noah was dead, and because of that, everyone else had changed—why not her?

  He remembered driving Sadie out to the mayor’s house a few months before the wedding. Noah had been doing a framing job on a guest cottage on the mayor’s land, and Chance had been bringing Sadie out to see her fiancé. It was spring but not exactly warm, and he remembered how she’d been dressed—jeans, pink rubber boots, a fleecy sweater and these white, fuzzy mittens.

  You look ridiculous, he’d teased her. Lose the mittens.

  I’m weather appropriate, she’d countered. Who cares how I look?

  Truthfully, she’d been beautiful—always had been. He just hated admitting that, because she wasn’t his to admire.

  True, he’d agreed. You sure Noah wants to be bugged at work?

  I’m delivering his birthday gift. She’d pulled a small package out of her pocket mysteriously. He won’t mind being disturbed for presents.

  What did you get him?

  It’s a surprise.

  I won’t tease you, promise. He’d honestly been curious at that point.

  It’s hard to tell if you’re serious or not. She’d squinted at him with mock solemnity. You could be arresting me or wishing me a happy birthday, and I doubt your expression would change.

  That day as he drove her out toward Noah’s work site at the mayor’s house, Chance could still remember that overwhelming surge of regret he’d felt as he drove his brother’s fiancée out to see him...because after Noah had been dating Sadie for a few years, Chance was supposed to be over his feelings for her. So he pretended not to feel anything more than brotherly concern, but his professional reserve covered things he didn’t dare reveal.

  That was a lifetime ago now. Noah was gone, and none of those old competitions mattered anymore. But Sadie was back. Sadie was not only his brother’s ex, but she was the one who’d pushed Noah to the edge. If it hadn’t been for Sadie’s callous rejection, Noah would still be taking on carpentry jobs around Comfort Creek. Noah had turned to the army out of heartbreak...and Chance was to blame, too. He’d been hiding his feelings for years, and he should have stayed away. Going to her house the night before the wedding had been reckless. He should have known that something would slip.

  Mayor Scott lived on the top of a hill in a large ranch-style house with a four-car garage and a flagpole out front. Chance turned into the long drive and swerved around a pothole. As he pulled up in front of the garage, he glanced over at the flag. It was at half-mast. Still. It had been at half-mast for two years, ever since Ryan was killed.

  The sun had set by the time Chance got out of his cruiser and headed toward the house. The lights were on inside—all of them, by the looks of it. The house positively glowed, but when he knocked at the front door, there was no response.

  Chance glanced at his watch, then knocked again, this time harder. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and he was met with Susan Scott, the mayor’s wife. Her hair was cut short, but not styled in any particular way. Just short and blunt. Gray. She wore some makeup, but it didn’t do much for her—not lately. She used to be a woman who glowed with joy, but her smile looked almost painful now.

  “Oh, hello, Chief.” She stepped back, her slippered feet swishing against the hardwood floor. “Come in. My husband is...” She looked behind her as if expecting to see him, then turned back and sighed. “Come in.”

  Chance wiped his feet on the rug and followed her through the entryway, past the kitchen and down a hallway. The sound of a television newscast came from behind a closed door, and she tapped on it.

  “Susie?” It was the mayor’s voice, and the TV suddenly silenced. “Come in, sweetheart.”

  She opened the door and stepped back. Mayor Scott sat in an armchair facing a now blackened TV screen. He wore slippers, too, and he looked older in that position. When he spotted Chance, he pushed down the footrest and clumsily rose to his feet.

  “Chief! Good to see you.” The smile changed—he was professional again, and Chance momentarily regretted bothering the mayor at home, but he figured that they might be able to talk a little more openly this way.

  “Sorry to intrude, sir,” Chance said. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

  “Of course, of course. Susan—” But when the mayor turned to the doorway, it was empty. His wife had already retreated. The mayor’s smile faltered again, and he shut the door behind Chance. “She’s not doing so well.”

  “Is she sick?” Chance asked.

  “No, just losing Ryan... She’s not the woman she used to be.”

  Chance could see that clearly.

  “She can’t handle the news anymore,” the mayor said, leaning against the edge of his desk and indicating a wooden visitor’s chair for Chance. “I watch it with the door shut so she won’t hear anything that will upset her. She’s very fragile lately.”

  Chance nodded, but he remained standing. “I can see that.”

  “Anyway.” The mayor fixed Chance with a questioning look. “What can I do for you?”

  Chance glanced behind the mayor, out the window to the backyard. He could see the guest cottage his brother had framed in the light from the window. It was the one part of this home that wasn’t aglow.

  “I had a meeting with Miss Jenkins today,” Chance said. “And she told me about her ideas for a personal ceremony.”

  “Yes. Brilliant.” Mayor Scott nodded. “She’s very good at this, you know. I knew that if you two just sat down together—”

  “I hate it.” He hadn’t meant to come out with it quite that way, but the words were honest.

  The mayor raised his eyebrows. “Have you heard her out?”

  “Sir, Sadie Jenkins walked out on my brother. She didn’t want him, broke his heart and humiliated him in front of the entire town. She doesn’t deserve to be the one to plan a ceremony in honor of the man she cast aside.”

  “It is also in honor of Ryan, and of Michael Flores and Terrance West,�
�� the mayor pointed out. “And she’s very talented.”

  “Anyone else, sir,” Chance said. “Please.”

  “Do you think we’re awash in event planners out here in Comfort Creek?” the mayor asked with a low laugh. “I didn’t exactly have a long list of applicants.”

  “Maybe between you and I—”

  “Chance...” the mayor said. “Susan really likes her.”

  Chance glanced toward the closed door out of instinct, then back at the mayor. “Mrs. Scott likes her? With all due respect, sir, I don’t see how that factors in right now.”

  “You aren’t a married man,” Mayor Scott replied with a small smile. “I know you think that I’m just some selfish old fool who wants a ceremony his own way. But it’s not for me, Chance. It’s for her.”

  Chance didn’t want a ceremony, period, but if he had to compromise, he could help to put together something appropriate and impersonal.

  “Sir, we could still have the ceremony, but—”

  “That woman lost her son.” The older man pointed toward the door and his finger trembled. “She lost him two years ago, and the light went out inside of her. She can’t let go, she can’t cry. She just crumbles a little more every day. And when I said we’d honor the boys—do it up right—she liked that, and it brought her back just a little bit. But she didn’t want it to be some cold military event, she wanted it to honor her boy. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes, sir, I can...”

  The thing that would comfort Susan Scott most was the thing that would be of least comfort to Chance and his parents. His mom and dad were the private type, too—just wanting to deal with their loss as a family. But they weren’t crumbling, and Susan was.

  “So I’m asking you to work with Sadie on a ceremony for Susan,” the mayor said. “We all grieve differently, son, and she needs our help right now. So work with Sadie—she knows what I’m wanting, and maybe now you can see why.”

  Chance sighed and glanced out the window at that guest cottage once more. Everything that Noah had built was still there...but it felt different. Susan needed this, and that did change things.