A Sheriff's Passion

by Michelle Beattie

  “Wouldn’t you rather him mad at you than see him hurt? Or worse?” Her voice broke on a sob. “He has his whole life ahead of him. He’s a good man; he didn’t do anything to deserve this. If I’m there I can distract Quinton, I can keep the target off Shane.”

  Mitch slowly came round. “You’d give your life for his?”

  “Without question,” she answered immediately. “Mitch, I love him. I know I ruined what we had, but my past doesn’t change how I feel. I’ve loved him since I met him. He’s the best person I know.” She bit down to keep hold of the little control she had left. “Let me do this. Please.”

  A battle raged in Mitch’s eyes. Refusal. Temptation. Indecision. And finally resolve as he came back toward her.

  Thank God.

  Silver wiped her eyes and dried her cheeks. She threw herself into Mitch’s arms when he opened her cell.

  “Thank you,” she said, squeezing him hard before letting go.

  Mitch grabbed her forearms, held her firm. “You can’t go yet. Give him time to get Owen and Bruce into position, to get things ready. If you go now, he’ll only drag you straight back here, but if you wait until everything is set, I don’t think he’ll risk the time it’ll take to bring you back.”

  She nodded, willing to do anything as long as it meant she could help Shane.

  Sighing, Mitch let her go. “I hope to hell I won’t regret this.”

  It was the longest wait of Silver’s life. She watched Mitch race through the rain, dodging puddles as he disappeared down the side street that led to the boardinghouse. She paced, always returning to the window. Lightning speared the sky. Rain pelted the roof and thunderclaps shook her to the bone.

  Maybe Quinton wouldn’t come. Maybe she and Shane were overreacting.

  Except she remembered Quinton’s stubbornness, his unyielding determination once he’d decided something and she knew he’d want his money. Besides the rain would provide the perfect cover. A hat pulled low and a slicker’s collar drawn high could mask anybody. That must be why Shane was setting things up so quickly. He must have figured the same thing.

  Silver breathed deep, tried to calm her racing her heart.

  The street was too quiet.

  While she understood it was due to the weather, the emptiness added an ominous feel. As though everything had retreated in fear.

  Peering out the window for what had to be the hundredth time, Silver looked left and right. The rain was coming down so hard the balustraded balcony over Grey’s was nothing but a blur. If Owen was up there, she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything and she had no idea what was going on. Had Quinton arrived yet? Would he come now when the rain was at its hardest or would he wait until sundown and risk the rain letting up? Was Shane inside her saloon yet? If he was, what was he doing? What was his plan?

  There was no way Shane was going to shoot first. He’d try to arrest Quinton and the others, take them peacefully. While she hoped for John Paul’s sake it went that way, she knew it wasn’t likely. One of them, most likely Quinton, had shot the shotgun rider on Katie’s coach. That didn’t speak of someone with patience. A murderer wouldn’t waste time jawing. Which meant he’d draw. Which meant bullets were going to fly. Silver grabbed her skirts, ran for the door. She was done waiting.

  With the driving wind, even the covered boardwalk didn’t protect her from the rain. It drenched her immediately. She hadn’t taken a slicker with her when she’d left the saloon and there was nothing to stop the torrent from soaking her through to the skin in seconds. Silver’s wasn’t that far down the boardwalk but by the time she stepped inside she was cold and shivering. Her hair hung in wet ropes around her head and her teeth were chattering.

  “What in hell are you doing here?”

  Silver shoved the hair out of her eyes. Shane was on his feet, prowling toward her. His temper clearly hadn’t cooled yet. Or perhaps it had and seeing her reignited it. Her gaze flicked to the one chair that wasn’t pushed up against a table. Knowing he wanted her out, Silver veered right, put some distance, not to mention tables, between them.

  “I know you don’t want me here, Shane, but this is where I need to be.”

  “Like hell it is.”

  Silver stood tall. “I can’t help you if I’m in jail.”

  “I don’t want or need your help.”

  He wove around a table, still trying to close in on her. Silver maneuvered behind another one, edging toward the bar. Not only was it the furthest point from the door, she kept a shotgun there. Not that she had any intention of hurting him, but maybe if he saw her with it he’d realize she could be of value after all. Even the six-shooter riding on his hip couldn’t stave off three men at the same time. And while she hated to think of John Paul either firing at Shane or being fired upon, it was a possibility and much as she loved her cousin, she loved Shane more. Keeping Shane safe was Silver’s only priority.

  But he caught her as she made the last dash for the bar, grasped her around the waist.

  “You’re soaking wet.” He hissed through his teeth.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Shane shifted his grip from her waist to her forearms. The heat of his hands felt heavenly through the cold fabric of her blouse. Then, much like Mitch had, he shook her. Although he shook a little harder.

  “You can catch a fever running around in the rain.”

  Silver tried to yank free but Shane was stronger. He held tight. She met him glare for glare.

  “It wasn’t raining when I left here earlier.”

  His dark eyes glittered. “It wasn’t raining in jail either.”

  “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? Why don’t you go back to watching the door and I’ll get a fire started in the stove?”

  He’d already lit the lamps and bright yellow light filled the saloon.

  “I have a better idea.” He grabbed her, dragged her to where he’d been sitting. Taking his slicker from the chair he wrapped it around her shoulders and herded her toward the door.

  “Go back to my office and do me a favor, stay there this time. I can’t leave in case your cousin and the others show up.”

  Silver dug in her heels. She had no intention of going anywhere and he could just—

  But then the saloon doors burst open and Quinton rushed in, danger pouring off of him like the rain dripping from his hat and slicker. Shane sprung into action, shoving Silver aside as he pulled his gun.

  “I wouldn’t try it,” Quinton warned. He lifted his gun from the opening of his slicker, pointed it at Silver. “Drop your weapon, Sheriff. I’d rather not shoot and have folks come running until I have what I came for but if you move I swear I’ll kill her right now.”

  “Don’t do it, Shane,” she begged.

  If both she and Shane were unarmed there was no telling what Quinton would do. At least if one of them had a weapon they stood a chance. Unfortunately, Shane did as he was told. Slowly, he bent down, set the gun at his feet.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Quinton ordered.

  Again Shane complied, raising his hands up. Only then did Quinton look at her. Silver’s stomach fell when she saw the soulless look in his eyes.

  “Did you really think I was going to just tuck my tail and leave? I knew you were hiding something.” His lips curled into a sneer. “I figured when we rode through town and saw this place that it was yours.” Greed filled his eyes. “This here is a real nice saloon.”

  Silver shivered and not only because she was still icy-cold.

  “Where are John Paul and Dirk?” she asked, trying to buy some time.

  “Your cousin”—he sneered—“had a change of heart. He decided not to come. Dirk should be here soon.”

  Silver’s heart sank. “You murdered John Paul, didn’t you?”

  Quinton’s teeth flashed. “You’ll soon learn, Sylvia, what happens to those who don’t obey me.”

  Silver cursed Quinton to hell when Shane’s head whipped her way.

 
“Sylvia?” Shane’s face was ashen. “You even lied about your name?”

  Nothing she said would make it better but she tried anyway. “I was going to tell you once this was all over.”

  Shane cut her down with a glare. “Don’t. Just don’t. I thought I knew the kind of woman you are but I don’t know this woman standing before me.” His jaw pulsed. “And I don’t want to.”

  Quinton’s gleeful cackle bounced off the wooden walls. “Isn’t this sweet. The sheriff fell for the crook. You did know she was a thief, didn’t you? And a mighty good one at that. Not to mention lying. She’s even better at that.”

  “So I’m learning,” Shane growled.

  With her attention on Shane she didn’t have a chance to anticipate Quinton’s sudden move. He lunged forward. She squealed as he grabbed her.

  “But she won’t lie to me, will you, Sylvia?” He pressed the gun against her temple. “Folks like us who come from nothing, we don’t trust banks. Do we? We like to keep our money nice and close. I know you’ve got some hidden here and you’re going to give it to me.”

  Silver’s knees rattled. Her heart stuck in her throat. Her mind raced to formulate a plan. One where she kept Shane safe. Regardless of what he thought of her, which was next to nothing now, he didn’t deserve to get hurt.

  “I keep it upstairs, in my room.”

  Shane’s gaze pierced hers and she silently willed him not to contradict her. She had a little money, under a hundred dollars though Quinton didn’t need to know that, tucked inside that other cigar box under the floorboards. If Quinton was fixed on her retrieving it, it could give Shane the chance he needed to grab Quinton and disarm him.

  While Shane had no way of knowing what was going through her mind, he must have decided upstairs was a better option because he remained silent. Not that he had to speak. The hatred in his eyes said everything. Silver looked away, pulled his slicker closer. She could have cried when his scent filled her nose. It was all she had left of what they’d had and, when this was over and she had to give it back, she wouldn’t even have that. She swallowed back the overwhelming pain. She couldn’t fall apart now. She needed to keep her wits.

  “All right, let’s go. You”—he pointed the gun at Shane—“lead the way. And don’t try anything stupid.” He jammed the gun back against Silver’s temple.

  Shane turned, hands in the air, and headed for the stairs. But Quinton had other plans. Before Silver could scream a warning Quinton leapt forward, slammed the butt of the gun on the back of Shane’s head. With a grunt, Shane crumpled to the ground.

  “Shane!” Silver screamed. “Shane!” But he didn’t move. Lying on the floor of her saloon he remained still, too still. “No,” she raged, twisting and pulling when Quinton grabbed her again and dragged her toward the stairs. Shane’s slicker slipped off her shoulders and landed near his head.

  Quinton paid no heed. At the bottom of the stairs he yanked her arm, shoved her in front of him. The gun pressed against her lower back.

  “Nice and slow, Sylvia,” he ordered.

  She thought of who she’d been back in Dakota Territory, how sad and lonely she’d been, how desperate she’d felt. Silver’s heart went out to that girl but that girl had stayed in Dakota Territory.

  “That’s not my name,” she stated as she began climbing the stairs, her skirt dripping water as she went. “Not anymore.”

  His laugh mocked her. “Just because you’ve cleaned yourself up, changed your name, and started a fancy saloon, it don’t change who you are.”

  “You’re wrong. I did what I had to in order to survive but I always hated it and you know that. I never wanted it to be my life. I knew I was better than that and I’ve proven it.”

  His laugh blasted in her ear. “By building a saloon with money you stole? Yeah, that’s honorable all right.”

  Silver’s hands curled into fists. It was how Shane saw it as well, and while they weren’t wrong, they weren’t entirely right either.

  “I didn’t have to leave. I could have stayed, joined up with you as John Paul did. I could have turned into a criminal. Nobody forced me to go, nobody forced me to turn my life around, to make it better. I did that all on my own because that’s who I am.”

  “I don’t think your sheriff friend sees it quite the same.”

  No, Shane didn’t. And Silver wished she could say it didn’t matter, that if he couldn’t see the good in her then he didn’t deserve her love. Unfortunately even knowing they had no future, knowing she was going to jail, she wished he could understand. More than anything she wanted his forgiveness.

  They reached the top of the stairs.

  “It’s the second door,” Silver said as she moved in that direction.

  Below them in the saloon Shane groaned. Silver stopped. Her breath shuttered. He was all right!

  “I knew I should have just shot him,” Quinton muttered, turning for the railing.

  Silver didn’t hesitate. Shane was hurt and unarmed, and Quinton’s intent was clear. Besides, she hadn’t lied when she’d told Mitch she’d give her life for Shane’s. He was a lawman. A good man and the town needed him. Besides, it was her fault Quinton had the chance to ride into town. If she’d just told Shane straight away...

  “Stop!” she shouted and threw herself at Quinton. She crashed into him. He grabbed her, staggered backward. Together they pitched over the edge of the landing and plummeted down the stairs.

  Shane’s head felt like a steam engine had just slammed into it. His ears rang. The back of his skull throbbed. What the hell had happened? He opened his eyes, saw his slicker beside him. That was when he felt the floor beneath this cheek. Floor? It came back to him then, a flood of memories that made his head feel as though it was going to crack open under the pressure.

  Then he heard Silver’s voice talking about how she’d turned her life around. He set his teeth, both against the pain in his head and her words. Maybe she had changed her life but she’d claimed to love him all the while keeping huge secrets from him, including her name.

  Clearly, she hadn’t changed as much as she claimed.

  He couldn’t worry about that now. He could hear them on the stairs. If he could just get to his gun...

  But he underestimated how hard he’d been hit. When he pushed himself up, the saloon spun around him. His stomach pitched and he was unable to keep the groan from escaping.

  The next thing he heard Silver scream, heard them thunder down the stairs. His gut clenched, knowing how dangerous a fall like that could be. Gritting his teeth he wobbled to his feet blinked when he saw double.

  The gunshot blasted through the saloon.

  Shane ducked. He nearly choked on the bile that rose up his throat at the sudden movement.

  With a final thump and groan, Silver and Quinton landed at the bottom of the stairs. Silver was sprawled over the outlaw. Neither moved. Shane no longer felt the pain in his head. He didn’t feel anything but cold dread and icy fear as he scrambled for the gun he’d set down earlier.

  He grabbed the gun, cocked it, and walked toward the staircase.

  “Don’t move, Sheriff, or she gets another bullet.”

  Shane went dead still. Another bullet? He reminded himself it could be a bluff, a distraction, but Silver wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything. Please, Jesus, no. His hand wanted to shake but he forced it still. Just as he forced his attention to stay on Quinton. But when the man clambered out from underneath her, without so much as a peep out of Silver, Shane knew a deep, awful fear he’d never felt before.

  The saloon doors burst open. Quinton spun at the sound. Shane didn’t hesitate. He shot the bastard. Then, seeing it was Mitch in the doorway, with Owen closing in behind him, Shane tossed aside his gun and raced to Silver’s side.

  And knew true terror when he saw the crimson stain spreading over her chest.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Get the doctor!” Shane barked as he raced for Silver and dropped down at her side. There was blood, lot
s of it and Shane knew he had to stem the flow. He ripped off his shirt, dimly aware of the buttons pinging against the floor. He pressed it to her wound.

  “I’ll get towels,” Mitch said.

  “Get the goddamn doctor!” Shane roared.

  Mitch’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Owen’s doing that now. I’ll fetch some towels.” Despite Mitch’s calm tone, his steps were hurried as he disappeared behind Shane, presumably heading for the kitchen.

  Shane had seen Silver spitting mad, glowing with happiness, and just earlier today sobbing with remorse. But he’d never seen her as defenseless as she was then, lying pale and still, spilling blood faster than he could mop it. Gently, he brushed her hair from her forehead. Both were cold. Hell, she was still soaked from the rain.

  “Bring me a blanket from upstairs,” he said, taking the towels from Mitch. He tossed aside the bloody ball of his shirt, replaced it with a clean towel and pressed it back to the wound. It nearly undid him when she didn’t so much as flinch.

  “Stay with me, Silver,” he begged.

  There was more he wanted to say, more he needed to say but the words couldn’t get past the lump in his throat. He pressed his lips to her forehead, instead, wished foolishly that somehow he could pour his life into hers.

  He couldn’t lose her, not like this. Not with her believing he didn’t love her anymore. Nothing was further from the truth.

  Shane didn’t hear Mitch’s return but suddenly he felt the wool blanket brush his hand.

  “The doctor should be here any minute.”

  Shane pressed another kiss to her forehead. Knowing that keeping her warm was as important as staunching the blood, he lifted the blanket to her chin, ensuring it stayed over his hand so he could keep the towel on the wound. Already the towel was warm and sticky with her blood. He switched towels, determinedly not dwelling on the fact that, counting his shirt, this was the third one.

  Hoping the contact would let her know she wasn’t alone, would give her a reason to fight, Shane reached under the cover with his other hand and when he found hers, squeezed tight.