Prisoners of Love Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Hutton , Callie

  The hotel looked inviting enough, but at present, anything would look inviting to Becky. They climbed down from the wagon and shook out their skirts.

  “The first thing I want is a meal not cooked over a fireplace.” Miranda smiled, one of the few smiles Becky had ever seen from the somber woman.

  “The first thing I want is a bath. In a real bathtub. With hot water.” Miss Nellie’s eyes glowed with happiness as she viewed the building.

  Becky was reluctant to voice her desire because what she really wanted was to find out where the sheriff’s office was so she could visit him on occasion. Once he had comforted her after her ordeal with the prisoner, he seemed to avoid her. Perhaps he’d been sorry he had ever been nice to such a ninny as herself.

  “Let’s go register and find our room, and then we can get someone from the hotel to bring our things in.” Miss Nellie was all business now that she was looking forward to a bath.

  The interior of the hotel was cozy and warm after the coolness of the rainy day. Comfortable-looking chairs were scattered around the room, with a colorful rug covering most of the wooden floor.

  Miss Nellie smiled brightly at the young man behind the desk. He’d been reading a newspaper and folded it when they stepped up. “May I help you, ladies?”

  “Yes, you may. You should have received a telegram from Marshal Dane Jones, from Dodge City, requesting a room under the name of Miss Nellie Ward.”

  The young man frowned. “When would that have been?” He glanced down at his book. “I don’t see any notation here, and I’m afraid we’re all booked up.”

  Not one to take these things lying down, Miss Nellie drew herself up and looked down her nose at the clerk. “There must be some mistake. Marshal Jones sent the telegram over a month ago.”

  When he just continued to stare at her, his face growing red, she said, “May I speak with the manager, please.”

  “Certainly.” Looking relieved, the clerk ran off.

  “What are we going to do?” Miranda asked.

  “I have no idea. The young man already said they were booked up, so getting the manager doesn’t seem to be worth anything at all, but I had to say something.” Miss Nellie glared at the man’s retreating back.

  The desk clerk returned with an older, rotund man, with a full mustache taking up most of the bottom half of his face. He wore a white apron wrapped around his considerable middle. Either he was the hotel cook, or bartender, in addition to manager.

  “How can I be of assistance, ladies?”

  “You can be of assistance by providing us with the room that was reserved by Marshal Dane Jones of Dodge City over a month ago. The reservation was for three women: Miss Nellie Ward, Miss Miranda Beamer, and Miss Becky Davidson.”

  The man shook his head. “I am very sorry, ladies, but we are all booked up. I don’t remember receiving a telegram from the marshal.”

  Miss Nellie stared at the man, but he was not fidgeting under her glower as the younger man had done. She sighed. “Very well. Can you recommend another hotel for us?”

  The manager scratched his balding head. “There’s only one other, but I would never send ladies over there.” He winked at Miss Nellie. “If you know what I mean.”

  Good heavens, the place must have been a cat house. Not that Miss Nellie was unused to such things, but she was probably reluctant to bring the two of them there.

  “Well, then. Thank you very much for your trouble.” She emphasized the last word, which finally got a reaction from the manager, who flushed.

  With a regal sweep of her skirts, Miss Nellie turned. “Girls?”

  Like chicks following a mother hen, she and Miranda fell into step behind her, as they left the hotel.

  “Now where do we go?” Becky asked as they climbed back up on the wagon seat. The rain came down harder, and at this point, she was feeling quite miserable. Instead of wishing for a bath or a warm meal, all she wanted was to get out of the rain and off the goldarned wagon seat.

  Miss Nellie took up the reins and snapped them at the mules. “To the sheriff’s office.”

  * * *

  Mace removed his gun belt, draped it over the hook on the wall behind his bed, and flopped on the mattress. It was good to be home. Between the time it had taken to track down Finnegan and his brothers after the bank robbery and then traveling back with them on the wagon train, he’d been gone over two months.

  Maybe he was getting too old for this. He enjoyed the comforts of living that had been denied him most of his life. Perhaps it was time to make use of all that money he’d saved over the years that was sitting in the First National Bank of Santa Fe and buy the house he’d dreamed of since he’d received his freedom.

  Sometimes being a lawman was almost as bad as the outlaw life, since he, too, was always on the run, chasing the bad guys. He closed his eyes and blocked out the shouting of the three prisoners he’d just locked away. His room behind the jail was peaceful most times, except maybe Saturday nights when it seemed the entire town attempted to drink itself dry.

  A home, a wife, and a family. Probably way out of reach for a former slave, but so was working as a well-respected lawman, and he’d done that. A wife seemed the most difficult item to complete his dream.

  Santa Fe’s population boasted many Mexican women he could probably marry up with, but now that he’d met Miss Becky Davidson, they no longer appealed to him. Except he would be plumb crazy to think she would ever have him. Or, if she were crazy enough to say yes, they would be run out of town the day after the wedding.

  “Sheriff Jensen?” Damnation, was he thinking of her so much that he actually heard her voice?

  “Sheriff, are you here?” Now that was Miss Nellie’s voice, and since he would never conjure her up, the women he thought he’d left behind on the wagon trail were in his office.

  He hopped up and strapped his gun belt back on. Grabbing his hat from the hook by the door leading from his bedroom to the jail, he strode past the cells with the Finnegan gang still complaining and came to an abrupt halt.

  Miss Nellie and her two charges stood in his office. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He tugged on his hat. “What brings you here?”

  “I’m afraid we’re in a dilemma, Sheriff.”

  He waved to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.” He moved around the back of his desk and dragged out his chair for the third woman to sit. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip on the edge of the desk. “What’s the matter?”

  Miss Nellie smiled as she must have done for many years to get her way. Unfortunately, with Becky sitting alongside her taking up all his attention, her siren’s smile didn’t affect him at all.

  “Marshal Jones arranged for us to stay at the De Vargas hotel down the street. However, when we arrived just now, they had no reservation for us, and they are booked up.”

  What the hell did Miss Nellie think he was going to do? Stomp down to the hotel and demand they throw someone out so they could stay there? Then he realized, as the sheriff, he had a responsibility to see that everyone in his town was safe. Three women living in a wagon would be fair game for any man who happened along.

  He stared out the window, thinking of where they could stay until he could possibly get the mess straightened out. “Miss Priscilla Gentry has a boarding house three streets over. It’s possible she has an opening.”

  Miss Nellie hopped up. “Excellent suggestion, Sheriff. Can the girls stay here while I inquire if there is room for us?”

  He shook his head. “The rain is coming down pretty hard out there right now. I’ll ride over and see if Miss Priscilla is home.” Before he could come to his senses, he walked to the back of the jail then turned right around and came back to face them. “Don’t go near the prisoners.”

  They ladies nodded, and he left the jailhouse through the back door and saddled his horse, Whiskey. With his shirt collar turned up and the brim of his hat pulled down to avoid as much of the rain as he could, he left the s
table and headed to Miss Priscilla’s place.

  Leaving the women with the prisoners was not a good idea, but after the incident with Becky, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t go near them. He had no idea what he would do with the three ladies if Miss Priscilla had no room. At least they had their wagon where they could sleep until they could make other arrangements.

  This was just the sort of night he wanted to stay inside. He would have a meal delivered from the café and try to catch up on sleep lost on the trail. Instead, he was sloshing through mud puddles, trying to find a room for three women.

  Miss Priscilla’s boarding house was at the end of a block. He wrapped the reins around the hitching post and took the stairs two at a time. Once he was underneath the porch roof, he took off his hat and slapped it against his leg to get rid of as much water as he could. He rang the doorbell, and after only a minute, Miss Priscilla answered.

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff. I assume you’re just back from your trip? Milton Chalmers did a fine job while you were away.” She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Won’t you come in?”

  Mace shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m afraid I’m dripping water. I’ve come to inquire about a room.” At her surprised look, he hurried on. “It’s for three women who just arrived in Santa Fe with the wagon train I traveled on. They were supposed to have a room at the hotel. There was a mix-up and the hotel didn’t reserve a room for them, and they are full.”

  The woman tapped her finger on her chin. “Oh, dear. That is a problem, isn’t it? I don’t have any rooms right now, but Miss Esther and her sister are moving out on Tuesday, and I’ll have a room then. That is, if all three of them don’t mind sharing one room. It is quite spacious.”

  “If you could hold that room for them, I’d appreciate it. I’m sure they can live in their wagon for another few days.”

  “Yes, I’ll be happy to do that, Sheriff. Just have them come around tomorrow after church, and I can show them the room.” She raised her eyebrows. “I assume since you are recommending them that they are upstanding women?”

  Although Miss Nellie had owned a brothel in Dodge City that burned to the ground, he kept the information to himself. She had been a perfect lady since he’d met her. “Yes, ma’am. I can vouch for all three of them.”

  “Perfect. Just send them around tomorrow after church.”

  He nodded and placed his hat back on his head. “Have a good day. I will escort them here tomorrow.”

  Now why did he go and say that? He wanted as little as possible to do with the women, especially Becky, who he was having a hard enough time trying to ignore. Or at least ignore his strong attraction to the woman. After holding her while she cried over the young mother murdered in the robbery holdup, he knew it was in his best interests to avoid her whenever possible. What he wanted from her was impossible.

  Luckily, everything was peaceful and quiet when he returned to the jailhouse. Even though it was a Saturday night, he hoped the bad weather would keep a lot of the usual troublemakers at home. With three dangerous criminals and three women to look after, the last thing he needed was a bunch of drunks to contend with.

  The women sat in a circle talking when he returned. Thankfully, they weren’t anywhere near the prisoners, who had quieted down. “Miss Priscilla has a room for you, but it won’t be available until Tuesday.” He shook as much water as he could off his hat and placed it on a hook by the door.

  “Oh.” Miss Nellie looked at Miss Miranda and Becky. “I’m afraid we will have to sleep in the wagon a few more nights.”

  Shoulders slumped, the other two women stood. “All right. I guess we can do it until Tuesday.” Miss Miranda didn’t look very enthusiastic about the arrangement.

  “I’ll tell you what, ladies. I will take you all to supper at the café.”

  Miss Nellie smiled. “I keep having to thank you, Sheriff. Frankly, I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  He could only hope that they would be doing without him soon. Once they were set up in the boarding house, he was sure it would not take Miss Nellie long to find husbands for the two young ladies. They were both attractive, of a personable nature, and did not seem too demanding.

  In fact, he thought, with anything but glee, men in Santa Fe would be lining up to marry them. The sooner, the better. Then he could stop thinking about Becky. She would be another man’s wife.

  He no sooner sat at his desk when the door opened, and all three women trooped back into the jailhouse.

  “What now?”

  Miss Nellie stood in front of his desk, her face a picture in misery. “There was a tear in the top of the wagon, and everything inside is soaked. We can’t sleep there.”

  Mace dropped his head into his hands.

  6

  “Your wagon is wet?” The sheriff almost groaned out the words.

  Becky glanced uneasily at Miranda and Miss Nellie. The sheriff looked as if he wished them all to perdition. Not that she blamed him. They had been a trial to him since they’d met in Dodge City.

  He leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his stomach, and studied them. “All right, this is what we will do. Miss Miranda and Miss Becky will take one of the vacant cells. I need to leave the other two empty for prisoners—which I tend to get a few of on Saturday nights. Miss Nellie, you can take my bed.”

  Miss Nellie’s eyes grew wide, and then she smiled. “Why, Sheriff. I gave that life up some time ago.”

  Becky had no idea that Negroes could blush, but there was a definite red flush under the sheriff’s caramel-colored skin. He shook his head furiously, shooting Becky a guilty glance. “No, no. I mean, I will sleep out here, and you can have my bed. Alone.”

  Miss Nellie burst out laughing. “Sheriff, I’m sorry to tease you, but I couldn’t resist. I knew what you meant; I was just having some fun at your expense.”

  Not looking as though he enjoyed being the butt of her fun, he stood. “Fine. Let’s go get supper. I want to get all of you settled before the saloons start tossing the drunks and brawlers into the streets for me to deal with.”

  The café the sheriff led them to was a good-sized restaurant, serving a considerable crowd, despite the continuous rain. Luckily, it had been a short walk from the jailhouse to the café.

  Mouth-watering smells wafted from the café right to Becky’s nose as soon as they opened the door. The thought of eating a well-cooked meal that she didn’t have to prepare or clean up from raised her spirits considerably and made her forget for a little while that they had nowhere decent to sleep for the next few nights.

  The sheriff was apparently well-liked, given the reception he received when they entered. He received many pats on the back and “welcome home” comments.

  Once they had settled into their seats, Miss Nellie leaned her elbow on the table and regarded Sheriff Jensen. “I would say this town is quite fond of you.” She looked around at the few diners who continued to study him, as well as the three women.

  “I think they’re probably wondering if we’re the outlaws you went after,” Becky said.

  He chuckled. “No, Miss Becky. I never bring my prisoners out to supper.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Just like I never suggest anyone have contact with them, either.”

  Good Lord, would he never forget her foolishness? Cussing her red face, she studied the menu on the wall and decided on the meatloaf.

  A slender woman with wide brown eyes and the reddest hair Becky had ever seen approached their table. “Well, howdy there, Sheriff. I thought you would never get back. Milton did an all right job in your place, but I think we all feel safer with you back.”

  “Hi, Aggie, yeah, it’s good to be back.” He waved at the three women. “These ladies are here on a special mission.” He winked at Miss Nellie. “This is Miss Nellie, Miss Miranda, and Miss Becky.”

  The waitress’s eyebrows rose. “A special mission?”

  The sheriff grinned. “Yep. They’re all looking for husbands.”<
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  Aggie’s eyes grew even wider. “Now why would y’all want to go ahead and do something foolish like that? I had to run my last husband off with a shotgun. The fool man kept taking my money.”

  Since there didn’t appear to be any response to that, they just placed their orders. Aggie poured them all coffee and headed for the kitchen, shaking her head.

  “When are you planning on starting your husband search? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to announce your plans. At least as far as Aggie was concerned.” They all had a laugh over the sheriff’s words.

  “As soon as we can get settled AT Miss Priscilla’s boarding house,” Miss Nellie said.

  “And how do you expect to do this?” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t have any idea how these things are done, and I won’t have anything illegal going on in my town.”

  Miss Nellie smiled and shook her head. “No worries, Sheriff. I am quite knowledgeable in how to get men and women together.” She grinned as he shifted in his seat. “But this is very different, of course.” She leaned her elbows on the table and regarded him. “All teasing aside, this is a serious task the marshal has set me to.” She waved at Becky and Miranda. “They deserve the best of men for husbands.”

  “I agree.”

  “Does the town offer dances and other sorts of entertainment that would bring attention to the girls?”

  “It’s not your plan to take out an ad in the newspaper like I see men looking for a mail-order bride do?”

  “No.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I want to do this right. There’s no reason to take a stranger when the girls have an opportunity to meet several men and make up their own minds.”

  “Very noble of you, Miss Nellie.”

  “Yes. Noble, I am.” She gave him a sad smile as the waitress walked up to their table loaded down with plates of food.

  Everything looked wonderful, and Becky couldn’t wait to dig into her meal. She practically groaned when she took a bite of the meatloaf. They all must have been quite hungry because the only conversation that took place were things like “please pass the salt,” or “may I have one of those biscuits?”