Undercover Sheriff

by Barbara Phinney

  Zane quietly pushed open the door. Her heart leaping in her throat, Rachel watched him also push back his jacket, her eyes widening as they lit upon his revolver. He looked at her. “Stay out here while I see who’s inside.”

  What if Rosa had returned in the night and had forgotten to remove the key? She could have been upset, or so tired she only wanted to fall into bed. Rachel couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay even a minute. She hurried in behind Zane.

  Though the day was bright, these cribs had few windows and the inside sat in relative darkness. Zane stood at the end of the bed, his hand on his revolver as he scanned the entire room. Rachel quickly lit a lamp. When she turned back to Zane and the bed, she gasped. The room looked like it had been turned upside down.

  Except the bed. Even though the bedclothes were heaped in the center, one thing was obvious when the bedding shifted. Someone was in it.

  Without any warning, Zane crossed the room to slam her to the boards beneath their feet, all the while covering her with his frame. On her trip to the floor, she caught a glimpse of his revolver as he pulled it from his holster.

  Two deafening shots rang out. She heard a man cry out.

  Zane!

  Chapter Nineteen

  No, not Zane!

  How badly had he been hurt? He felt like a deadweight atop her. Rachel tried to squirm loose, but couldn’t free herself. All she could do was lie there as whoever was in the bed hit the boards near her head with stocking feet.

  Another shot rent the air, and she tucked her head farther into her shoulders and shut her eyes tight. The door banged wide open as their assailant bolted from the room.

  Everything went silent. The pungent odor of gunpowder lingered. Above her, Zane didn’t move. “Zane?”

  “I’m okay.” He shifted his weight and groaned. When Rachel moved to free herself, she also let out a groan and looked down at her elbow, the source of her pain. No blood. Good. But her whole weight had landed on that arm and it was going to be black-and-blue tomorrow.

  She finally eased herself free of Zane and sat up. He stayed prone beside her. “Zane!”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not moving. Are you hurt?”

  “Yeah, a little. He caught my side.” He raised himself, cradling his left arm as he hugged it to his chest. Rachel gasped and sank down beside him, realizing it wasn’t his arm but his ribs he was protecting.

  “You’ve been shot!”

  “It’s not bad. Here, help me out of my coat,” he said. “He shouldn’t have been able to take me by surprise.”

  Zane’s coat off, Rachel answered, “You pulled out your revolver so quickly!”

  “I was a sheriff, remember? I do know how to defend myself. Or at least, I used to.” He blew out a sigh. “It’s my own fault. I didn’t draw fast enough.”

  “It looked pretty fast to me.”

  “I should have been ready before I entered. I only had my hand on it.” He tried to stand, grimacing as he did so.

  Rachel helped him. “Here, sit on this chair.” She brought it close to him. “Or, better still, lie down.”

  He looked at her with scorn. “I’m not fatally shot, woman. It’s just a graze along my ribs. I could even wrap it up myself, if necessary. But before we bandage me up, did our friend here leave anything behind?”

  “No. I saw him take his boots, because my face was only inches from them. Whoever it was is agile.”

  “What happened here?”

  Both Rachel and Zane looked up to see Eddie in the doorway gripping the jamb. Behind him appeared several of the women, the closest one being Annie.

  “Just a squatter,” Zane muttered. “We surprised him.”

  “What are you doing here?” the bartender asked.

  “We wanted to see if Rosa had returned in the night,” Rachel answered testily.

  “We would tell ya, I’m thinkin’,” Annie snapped back, her tone bitter from being rudely awakened. “We’d hear her.”

  “Did you hear that guy come in here?”

  Annie looked to the other woman whose crib was closer. That woman, Mags, shook her head. Annie followed with the same motion.

  “Then how would you hear Rosa returning?” Zane pointed out, his tone cold. Annie looked away.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Eddie asked.

  “Just Z—the sheriff,” Rachel blurted out. “Annie, did you see anyone hanging around here last night? A man?”

  Annie pulled her coat closer to her thin frame. “No, it was a quiet night.”

  Eddie looked back at the other women, but they shook their heads. When the bartender returned his attention to Rachel and Zane, his expression was tight. “Rosa shouldn’t have left her door unlocked.”

  “She didn’t,” Rachel snapped.

  Eddie said nothing. A man from the bar called out and forced him to twist about. He pushed himself between the women to return to his work. With wary looks, they left, too. None seemed interested in the fact that their sheriff had been shot.

  Rachel felt her shoulders sag. “I didn’t really expect anyone to have seen anything.” She turned and gasped at the sudden move.

  “Sorry,” Zane said, lifting his elbow to check his wound. A blotch of dark red had formed on his light shirt. “I shouldn’t have pushed you down so hard.”

  Rachel set to work hastily. “Turn around, Zane.”

  “What for?”

  “Just turn around.”

  He obeyed, with a grimace and Rachel lifted her skirt to tear a strip from the hem of her petticoat. She then took Zane’s handkerchief and folded it into a small bandage. After lifting his shirt and pressing the handkerchief against his wound, she bound it with the strip of white cotton hem.

  “Thank you.”

  “Just keep this snug until we can clean it up properly.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have done better.”

  “Forget it! You saved my life! I walked right up to that man in the bed, and he would have shot me if you hadn’t shoved me down.”

  “I tried to twist around to shoot him, but it went wide.” Zane searched the ceiling and upper walls.

  “Let’s not worry about him.” She set her hand on the key. “I’ll lock up this place and take the key with me. Rosa will come looking for it if—when she returns.”

  “Rachel?”

  She turned back to him. “Yes?”

  He offered her a bleak smile. “She’ll be back. We’ll find both of them.”

  “With the leads we have? Each day that goes by makes it that much harder to find anything substantial.” She sagged.

  His gaze became thoughtful. “We have more than we realize, but it’s putting all the pieces together that makes it hard. It’s like a puzzle without the picture.”

  Reluctantly, Rachel scanned the room. “All I saw was stocking feet as he jumped out of bed and picked up his boots.”

  Zane pulled a face. “Whoever it was is used to getting caught unawares. Throw back the bedclothes, Rachel. He might have left something behind.”

  She tossed them back. A small clunking sound rang out. Walking around the bed, she searched the floor until she found the culprit. “Here. This was in the bed.”

  She handed a small block to Zane. It was metal and had a letter on it. “It’s exactly like the one I found in Daniel’s pocket. It must be a toy.”

  Rachel looked at it. “It’s got a backward P on it.”

  “Backward?”

  “What was the letter on the other block?” she asked.

  “It was an A.” Zane rolled the block around in his hand. “But I wouldn’t have noticed anything unusual because the letter A is the same forward and backward.”

  Rachel scanned the room for anything else. “It’s a stamp.
I’m pretty sure that block isn’t meant as a toy. It’s too small.” She looked at Zane. “Ink and paint are too expensive to be wasted on children. Even Victoria gives only slate and chalk to Mitch’s children.”

  Zane checked his wound before looking around. “Was Rosa this messy?”

  “No. She was very neat, but she didn’t have much of anything. That’s why I knew she hadn’t left town. She only owned a few dresses and such, and they were still hanging in her wardrobe.”

  “Then we seem to have a squatter.”

  “Well, that’s not unusual.” Rachel walked to the back of the room where a small pitcher and basin stood. “But never mind him—let’s get your wound tended to.”

  “I hardly need a doctor.”

  “Nor do I want to take you to him. What if Alex has a scar or had an injury that the doctor tended?” She peered into the jug, but the water held a film of dust. It had been sitting since Rosa went missing.

  Pulling a face, Rachel announced, “We should tend your wound up at my house. I have all my supplies there, not to mention clean water and soap.”

  She sounded so no-nonsense, but a moment later, she found her hands no longer cooperating in the simple task of helping Zane into his coat. It went from bad to worse when she tried to lock Rosa’s door. “Look at me. I’m shaking like a leaf!”

  Zane covered her hand with his, drawing her attention away from the door and up into his eyes. “It’s all right, Rachel. It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine and, most importantly, you weren’t hurt.”

  He took the key from her, and Rachel marveled at how calm he was as he locked the door. He looked down at her, smiling. “It’s all right. Really. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  Was he? She’d been nothing but an irritant to him for days, and yet he’d thrown himself atop her to protect her.

  Her heart stalled. She dared to peer into his dark eyes and found him smiling softly back at her. Her knees turned to jelly and she reached for Zane as if he was the only thing that could stop her from falling. “Hold me, Zane,” she whispered. “I think I need it right now.”

  He took her in his arms, and she clung to him, gingerly, so as not to hurt him further. For a long, comforting moment, she shut her eyes, pushing away all the danger they’d just experienced. As she pressed her left cheek against his coat’s lapel, she felt him stiffen and suck in a sharp breath. She opened her eyes and her gaze fell on the bloodied and scorched hole in the side of his coat.

  Rachel quickly stepped out of his embrace. He’d been shot, and she shouldn’t be foolish, begging to be held as though her fears were more important than tending his wound. She was far stronger than that.

  She tugged down on her jacket, smoothing the front of it. “Let’s go to my house. I can even mend your coat if you like.”

  He nodded. Rachel pocketed the key and hurried down the steps. Thankfully, they were alone, but not wanting to tarry, she propelled him away toward the main street. The sooner they were safe at her home, the better she’d feel.

  * * *

  Zane allowed Rachel to cross her threshold first. Before they’d embraced, she’d been as pale as a fresh layer of snow. And her gaze on him? He’d seen it on Alex’s wife the day they’d married.

  It was a look of trust, mingled with a touch of nerves. Even now, rethinking it as he walked into her front hall, he felt warmth rush through him. It wasn’t because of the woodstoves.

  Zane swallowed. Having Rachel’s trust was attractive. It was dangerous, too. She shouldn’t trust him. He refused to fight for his own honor. And today, he hadn’t even had the good sense to draw his revolver first.

  Rachel led him into the parlor where, a few minutes later, she laid out her supplies on a small table set between two fussy high-backed chairs. She took his Stetson and coat and handed them to the young footman who’d followed them in, his eyes wide. Rachel gently directed Zane into the nearest chair.

  “Oh my! What’s going on here?”

  Both he and Rachel looked up to find Mrs. Smith gliding into the room, a young maid trailing behind. Both were dressed in warm clothes, and Louise was pulling off her gloves as she approached.

  Automatically, Zane began to rise, but Rachel’s hand descended onto his shoulder. “Stay where you are.”

  “What happened?” Louise cried out, having spotted the blood.

  “He’s been shot, Mother.”

  “Shot! We should call the doctor, then.”

  “It’s just a flesh wound, ma’am,” Zane told her. “Hardly worth his bother.”

  Louise peered over Rachel’s shoulder as she began to lift his shirt. Zane watched the older Smith woman, curious about her. Her steely calmness told him that she was tougher than she looked. More practical, too.

  She turned to her maid. “Stoke the fire in here and bring in some boiled water.” To Rachel and Zane she added, “It’s chilly in here and, yes, I agree with you, Sheriff. It’s not as bad as it could have been. I’d like to ask what happened, but, in retrospect, I’m not certain I want to know.”

  “It was behind the saloon, Mother.”

  “What on earth were you doing there this early in the day?”

  “We went to see if Rosa had returned.”

  “Has she?”

  “No.” Rachel returned to her task, her mouth a thin line. She turned to her mother again. “You’ve been out?”

  “We took a basket of baked goods to the Walshes. Mrs. Walsh is in my Bible-study class and has fallen ill. Poor Clare. She’s now stuck looking after those wild brothers of hers on her own.”

  She removed her hat and jacket and handed them to the footman. “I don’t know what that family is going to do with those boys if she gets any sicker. Clare will have to stop working, but that could easily put them in the poorhouse.”

  Rachel’s head shot up, but all her mother did was hand her a clean cloth even before she reached for it. Zane lifted his brows. As brusque as Louise appeared, she was rational and efficient in her movements. He knew right then where Rachel had acquired her no-nonsense attitude. Her mother had it, although the older woman’s was tempered by decorum.

  “There, Sheriff,” Louise announced after she’d supervised her daughter’s ministrations. “You’ll be just fine. I wouldn’t go riding or tackling the evils of this town head-on for the next few days, though. Give that wound a bit of time to heal, in case it becomes septic.”

  “Mother’s right,” Rachel said softly. “If it gets red or swollen or hot, you may have to see the doctor. But for the next day, don’t remove the bandage.”

  Louise swept from the room, calling with a heavy sigh over her shoulder as she went, “You’ll be off doing what you want in no time at all. Although I expect it will be something equally dangerous as today’s adventure.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rachel couldn’t stop her mother’s words from cutting into her like a thousand tiny knives. Zane would mend soon enough for he was robust and healthy, which meant he would indeed get right back to doing what he had come to do. He’d find his brother. And then he’d leave.

  His wound had been deeper than she’d first thought, though. It would take time to heal. Mother was right about being careful it didn’t get septic. Surely her warning would be heeded?

  Gathering up her supplies and stowing them back in her basket, Rachel tossed a look over her shoulder at Zane. “I can mend your coat.”

  “Never mind. I will ask Mrs. Shrankhof to do it. I need to be getting back to work.”

  Rachel whirled. “Mother and I agree that you shouldn’t work for a few days.” She cleared her throat. “We rarely agree on things, so you should listen.”

  Zane shrugged into his coat. “I’ll be careful. I need to speak with the mayor. I’ve been ordered to report.”

  “What if Mrs. Shrankhof as
ks what happened to you?”

  “I’m the sheriff and I’m sure she expects some days to be like this. I imagine she’s already heard the whole story by now anyway.” He stared at her, his gaze sweeping up and down her frame.

  The moment lingered for far too long. She stood in front of Zane like a dumbstruck teenage girl. Panic swelled, a thoroughly unwanted emotion she couldn’t check. She wanted to blurt out to Zane a series of foolish orders.

  Do not go back to work.

  Do not find Alex. Don’t learn the truth about Rosa.

  Don’t get even more hurt.

  Again, Rachel swallowed, but the lump that had formed in her throat returned, hard and hot as ever. As long as Zane recuperated, as long as Alex was just missing, and as long as Rosa was just a big question in the investigation, Zane would still be here.

  And all the while, Alex would still be in danger.

  Oh, what an awful person she was.

  Rachel tightened her jaw, set her shoulders back slightly and refused to relent to the selfishness inside of her. She had no right to lecture him that honor meant something. Where was her honor? She wanted time to stand still. What about her work? She was there each night trying to dispel a guilt that would never leave. She’d already started to doubt her work and her faith in Rosa. There was nothing honorable there, either.

  “Is there something wrong?” Zane asked.

  She forced out a firm smile. “Nothing. I was just concerned for your wound, that’s all.”

  Zane walked to the door, where Rachel saw him reach gingerly for his Stetson, resting on the small table. “I promise to treat my injury with the utmost tenderness.”

  She didn’t believe him. “No riding.”

  “I promise. But, Rachel, someone shot at us. I need to investigate it now. I can’t let it wait until I heal.”

  “You have a deputy.”

  His expression darkened slightly as he bade her farewell with his thanks before disappearing out the parlor door. Rachel stood in the center of the room like a silly woman, and she fought the urge to cry. What a horrible person she was. No wonder Zane had made a hasty exit.