The two girls looked as if they wanted to argue, but they nodded and started whispering to each other while shooting glances at Noah. He let Marina march him out of the sheriff’s office before a chuckle escaped.
“They’re good girls. Really.” She smiled. “You just have to know how to handle them.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’m no good at handling women, period. You can ask any woman in my family.” The laughter died on his lips when he realized what he’d said.
Marina stepped off the wood-planked sidewalk and headed across the road to the restaurant he’d seen when riding into town. A clean-looking place with lacey curtains in the window that lent it a homey feel. Her dark hair swayed softly on her shoulders as they walked.
“Where is your family?”
“Down state aways,” he answered, purposely vague.
“You leave home for a reason or just to get off on your own?” She stopped just outside the door and peered at him with a knowing gaze. Those dark eyes were too shrewd and Noah felt himself squirm under their power.
Noah couldn’t possibly tell this virtual stranger his twisted life story, so he decided to take the easy route and not say anything at all. The last thing he needed to do was lie to the first friend he’d made in town.
“I guess a man’s business is his own.” She touched his shoulder briefly. “I left home for a good reason too, at least it was a good reason at the time. Nowadays I’m not so sure.”
Noah’s mouth opened as if it was going to blurt out the truth, then the moment was broken by a bell ringing on the restaurant door.
“Marina, if you’re comin’ inside, then get on with it. You’re blocking the door.” An older woman with corkscrew silvery curls and a mustachioed upper lip poked her head out the door, frowning at both of them. “Don’t hog the new sheriff now. Get on in here.”
“You heard her. Let’s get inside.” Marina led him through the door, and Noah wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
Inside the restaurant, about two dozen eyes turned to look at Noah. He nodded and kept walking. Marina held his arm tight, giving him silent support. They sat at a table near the window where the petite curmudgeon met them.
“I’m Elsa.” She held out her hand and Noah tried to shake it lightly. She wouldn’t let him. With a grip that rivaled a bear trap, Elsa gave Noah her own bone-crunching version of howdy.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Elsa. Noah Calhoun.” He wondered if Elsa was friend or foe. He hoped it was friend because the little woman was formidable and he’d only known her a minute.
“I know who you are. Johnny’s already been by. Glad to see a young strapping man take over the sheriffin’ in this town. Been a couple years since Johnny’s gun shot straight if ya know what I mean.” She cackled, and her face lit with true humor. “Now sit down and I’ll get y’all meatloaf and taters.”
She walked away and Noah turned his gaze to Marina, who was smiling.
“Elsa takes some getting used to, but she means well.” Marina laced her fingers together on the table. “I’ve never met anyone with a bigger heart in my life.”
“She’s quite a lady,” Noah mused.
“Never meet a finer one. She’s a damn good cook too.”
Noah should have been shocked to hear a woman cussing, but since his mother had always indulged in the same habit, he couldn’t fault Marina. His stomach rumbled and he hoped she was right about Elsa’s cooking. The job was heaven-sent considering it included the food. Noah had spent a lot of time with a howling gut the last three years.
He felt the eyes on him. Each person in the room was judging him, sizing him up, fitting him for the position of protecting their town. He wasn’t sure if he could do it, but he’d be damned if he’d let strangers’ opinions dictate to him.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Noah stood and took off his hat.
“Folks, I’m sure y’all have heard that Johnny Boyton asked me to step into his shoes as the sheriff of Chancetown.” He cleared his throat and willed away the jitters in his stomach. “I’m willing to do the best I can. I hope you can do the same for me. I’m not married, not looking for a wife, but I come from a good family. Um, thank you.”
He sat down and met Marina’s surprised gaze. “Bravo.”
Noah fought the hunched shoulders that threatened. “I figure it’s best to get it out of the way. Now we’ll see if they can accept me.”
He’d battled most of his life against things these good people couldn’t even imagine. The Calhouns had given him a fresh start at fifteen. He’d always wanted to pay that back the best he could. Perhaps now was his opportunity.
———
Rosalyn Benedict knew good slops from bad ones. Elsa’s restaurant definitely had the good eats. It had been her favorite place for a long time. She had a feeling Elsa deliberately put real food in with the slops, but Rosalyn wasn’t going to complain. She ate enough each day to survive, and for that she was grateful. Since it was nearly time to eat, her stomach rumbled with hunger.
She waited in the shadows of the alley, content to listen to folks talking, the clink of forks on tin plates and the hooves of the horses on the street. Her cat, Whiskers, meowed at her feet as if to ask where the food was. Her warm fur swished against Rosalyn’s leg. With a smile, she scratched the calico behind the ears.
“Don’t worry, girl, we’ll be eating soon. Why don’t you go find yourself a juicy mouse?” Rosalyn felt the cat’s purr through her skin. “Go on now.”
Calling Whiskers “her” cat wasn’t entirely true. No one owned the cat; she sort of adopted Rosalyn ten years ago and they’d been sleeping companions ever since. With one final meow, the cat disappeared into the sunshine streaming in at the end of the alley.
The door opened and Rosalyn shrank behind the empty crates. Silent as the cat she counted as her only friend, she didn’t make a sound until the back door closed again. The scent of mashed potatoes and meatloaf tickled her nose.
She waited a full ten minutes, individually counting six hundred seconds before she moved. Even then, she advanced slowly on the bucket. No one else appeared and Rosalyn smiled at the feast. Meatloaf was her favorite.
After pulling her oft-washed handkerchief from her bag, she wiped her hands. As she peered into the bucket trying to decide on the choicest pieces of meat, a hand clamped down on her wrist.
Rosalyn looked up into the warmest pair of brown eyes she’d ever seen. They were attached to a man, a stranger with a strong grip, wavy brown hair and a gleaming silver star on his blue shirt.
“Let me go.” She yanked, but he didn’t move. In fact, he felt like an immovable rock.
“Ma’am, can I help you?”
Rosalyn frowned. “I don’t need help and I sure as hell don’t want any. Let me go.” She pulled again and he budged only half an inch.
“I’m the new sheriff, Noah Calhoun.” He looked down at the slops bucket with a look of pity. “You don’t need to eat scraps from other people. Please let me help you.”
“No.” She couldn’t be clearer than that. Was he touched in the head?
“Ma’am, I can’t go about my business knowing you’re eating slops and”—he glanced at her clothing—“from the look of you, living on the street.”
“Where I live is none of your business.”
He frowned. “It’s my business now. Every person who lives in this town is my business.”
“Well I ain’t one of them.” She tried to step on his foot, but he moved so quickly, even she was surprised. He had the grace of a big cat.
“I just want to help you.” His grip didn’t loosen, and no matter how much she yanked, she couldn’t get her arm free.
Rosalyn sighed. “I don’t want your help. Are you dense or something?”
The sheriff started to pull her toward the street. From there, she knew he’d take her to some woman who would force her to bathe, burn her clothes and say enough prayers to make her eyes cross.
N
othing doing.
Rosalyn opened her mouth and belted out a bloodcurdling scream. His eyes widened in shock and his grip loosened. That was all the opportunity she needed. She kicked him in the shin, got her arm free and ran down the alley toward the street, all too aware of the boots following hot on her heels.
“Ma’am, please wait.”
No way Rosalyn was getting involved with the likes of the new sheriff. The townsfolk had tried it once, some church ladies who made her feel dirty and worthless. She might not have a place to sleep but she wasn’t stupid or less than anyone else. Rosalyn had survived too long on her own to accept feeling less than human from anyone, no matter their intentions.
She turned the corner and nearly knocked over some woman who squawked like a chicken. Rosalyn knew she hadn’t done any harm, so she kept running. Sheriff Calhoun wasn’t so lucky. A grunt and another squawk told her the man had run into the biddy. Good. That would slow him down enough for Rosalyn to get away.
After ten minutes and a lot of doubling-back, Rosalyn made it to her favorite sleeping area. The back stairs of Marina’s saloon had a cozy spot beneath them, perfect for one woman and a cat. Whiskers sat atop the blanket Rosalyn had rescued from the trash pile outside the hotel. It had a burn hole in it likely from some fella’s cigar, but it was a nice wool blanket that kept her warm in the winter.
Whiskers licked her chops and watched with her wise golden eyes. Rosalyn bent over with her hands on her knees and caught her breath, allowing the air to go deep before she let it out slowly.
“There’s a new sheriff in town.” Rosalyn shook her head. “I expect he’ll do his best to catch me for a bit so we’ll need to be smart.”
She picked up the cat and scooted under the stairs. After settling onto the blanket, she put Whiskers on her lap, grateful for the cat’s comforting warmth.
“Noah. He said his name was Noah.”
His eyes had been an unusual shade of brown, almost like fine whiskey. The left one also had a dark spot in it, like a freckle. A scar bisected one eyebrow while another decorated the corner of his lips.
Holy Mary.
How did she remember all that from seeing the man for one minute? Rosalyn had always been good with details, but this was beyond that. It was a little frightening.
Self-preservation kicked in and her mind scrabbled away from the memories of the too-handsome sheriff. A man like him might try to take advantage of a girl, using his good looks and sweetness.
Rosalyn couldn’t afford to make that mistake again. One smooth-talking stranger was enough to last her a lifetime.
All she needed to do was stay away from him. Far away.
It took nearly five minutes to calm the woman down after he’d knocked her into the wall. Noah used every trick he’d learned from his charming Uncle Trevor to get out of a tough situation. After tipping his hat and saying good day, he was finally able to look for the woman from the alley.
At first he hadn’t been sure it was a woman beneath the snarled black hair, but then he’d seen her face. A heart-shaped face with unusual violet eyes full of mistrust, pride and annoyance. However, there hadn’t been any fear. Whoever she was, he hadn’t scared her, which was good. He wanted to help her, not frighten her.
After a ten minute fruitless search, he found himself back at Elsa’s and an amused-looking Marina.
“Where did you disappear to?”
“I found someone.”
I found someone. The way it came out of his mouth jarred him a bit. Why didn’t he say something different? Like, “There was a woman in the alley” or “I was trying to help someone in trouble.” But no, instead he had to say that he found her.
Had he found her? She likely hadn’t been lost. For all he knew, she had simply fallen on hard times for a bit.
“Really? Who did you find?” Marina turned toward the saloon and Noah fell into step beside her.
“A woman. She was about to eat from the slops bucket when I found her.”
“Rosalyn Benedict.” Marina shook her head. “Sweet kid.”
“Kid? How old is she?” Noah was suddenly fascinated with Marina’s answer, gripped with a burning need to know more about the mysterious woman named Rosalyn.
“I think she’s about eighteen or so. She’s lived on the streets for as long as I’ve been here, maybe ten years. Most folks pay her no mind.” Marina glanced at him. “I think Elsa leaves her food and so does Jacob at the hotel. Folks try of take care of her, but she’s skittish.”
Noah remembered being hungry, begging for food, depending on others for everything. An ancient thrum of pain echoed through him. No matter how many nights he’d slept in a comfortable bed with a full belly, the fear of having nothing never left. Even as a grown man, that little boy existed deep within him, scared and alone. Rosalyn was a kindred spirit.
With a surge of hope, Noah found his first task as the sheriff of Chancetown. He was going to help Rosalyn Benedict.
Chapter Two
When he arrived back at the jail Noah sucked in a breath and the scent of lye and pine oil tickled his nose. Bitsy and Cherry might be a lot of things, but they were dang good cleaners. The jail probably hadn’t been that clean when it was built. Even Johnny’s dirty dishes were washed and stacked neatly on the table in the corner.
He sat at the desk, pleased to be able to call it “his” desk. Never thought that would happen.
“Calhoun?”
Noah looked up at the doorway to see a bald, portly man in a tight navy blue suit sporting a small dark mustache and a toothy grin.
“Yes, that’s me.” He stood, wondering why the man reminded him of a snake-oil salesman.
“Sylvester Dickinson. I’m the mayor of Chancetown.” The man glanced around with a wide smile and sniffed. “It surely smells better in here than the last time I visited Johnny.” His too-big grin brought to mind a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“I had it cleaned.” Noah held out his hand. “Noah Calhoun.” Dickinson pumped Noah’s proffered hand until he had to pull it back. This man’s charm oozed out of each and every pore. His initial impression of a big predator hadn’t been mistaken.
“I wanted to stop by and welcome you to Chancetown. Johnny tells me you are an excellent lawman, exactly what we need. Your salary will be paid by the town, by me actually. I wanted to warn you a bit about some pitfalls.” Dickinson’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Some folks will try to take advantage of you.”
“Well, I don’t think—”
“Don’t worry.” Dickinson waved his hand in the air. “I don’t expect you to think, just to work. Don’t get in the middle of the sheep and cattle rancher’s battle. Eventually the sheepmen will be driven out or killed.” Dickinson smiled again. “Do you understand?”
Killed? The mayor wanted sheep ranchers killed? “What are you saying, Mr. Dickinson?” Noah chose his words with care, his temper simmering.
“The town council doesn’t want the battle. Never you mind any more than that. I own the bank and half the buildings on the east side of town, including this one. The town was built from the blood of cattle and there just isn’t enough grazing land for sheep.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “You’ve got the look of a cattleman to me.” The blinding smile appeared again.
Noah took a deep breath, then let it out. He had to do it a second time to rein in the words that threatened to tumble from his mouth. No need to offend the mayor on his first day, but the man had some loco notions.
“I have worked cattle ranches, but my parents own a horse ranch.”
“Ah, see, there you have it. A cattleman.” Dickinson stood and straightened his jacket. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“I owe Bitsy and Cherry from the saloon for cleaning the jail.” And he hoped to have enough to pay for a bath.
“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of that debt for you.” The lascivious grin made Noah’s instincts stand at attention. Something wasn’t right about the man and it wasn’t just his too
-white teeth.
“Anything else?” Dickinson’s eyes appeared like the surface of a calm pond. Couldn’t see much but a reflection, but Noah sensed there was a lot going on beneath.
“Is it possible to get a few dollars until payday? I’d like to get some laundry washed and perhaps a bath or two.” Noah couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hot bath.
“Of course.” Dickinson reached into his pocket and peeled off a few dollars from the fat wad of cash clutched in his hand.
Noah tucked the money into his pocket. “Much obliged, Mr. Dickinson.”
“Good. If you have any questions, you come to me. Lots of gossips in this town like to fill your head with trash, but I know everything that goes on.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“I’ll do my best,” Noah said with a forced smile.
“You do that.” With another look around the jail, Dickinson turned to leave. “I swear I still smell Bitsy in here. She’s quite a woman.” He winked and took his bright smiling face from the building.
After the door closed on his visitor, Noah sat down with a gust of breath and a shake of his head. He didn’t know exactly what was going on in Chancetown, but after his conversation with the mayor, it wasn’t good. There was apparently a feud going on and he expected to be in the middle of it. Good thing his father had taught him how to survive. He’d need all his wits and skills to be razor-sharp.
———
Rosalyn waited until dusk to wash. After hiding from the sheriff in lots of places that hadn’t ever seen either end of a scrub brush, she needed to get the grime off her hands. She was so hungry her stomach nearly rubbed on her backbone, but she wanted to wait to be sure that sheriff wasn’t around. He’d forced her to miss dinner. She’d be damned if she’d let him make her miss supper too.
The horse trough in front of the post office was the cleanest, but it was right next to the jail. She bit her lip, arguing with herself for a good hour on whether or not to do it. When the noise in the street settled down on the north end, and most folks were at the south end in the saloons and restaurants, Rosalyn emerged.
The Legacy Page 2