by Natalie Dean
The two women walked forward, and Sam began to follow in their wake. In light of their more than awkward introduction, he was beginning to hope that this entire arrangement had not been a horrible mistake.
“Mrs. Matthews!”
A voice from across the street caused all three of them to turn. When they did, they saw the potbellied figure of Sheriff Branson making his way towards them.
As he did, Sam heard another gasp, barely audible come from the direction of his bride. When he turned to her, he was more than surprised to find that her face had gone pale and her blue eyes had grown wider than he imagined possible.
Her gaze did not stray from the figure of Sheriff Branson across the street.
“Mrs. Matthews,” Sam heard the sheriff say as he approached them. “I wanted to have a word with you about a few of your tenants.”
“Sam,” Fiona said quietly, glancing at the sheriff as though making sure he was still too far away to hear them.
“I am exhausted. Do you think Mrs. Matthews would mind if you showed me to my room? That way we can leave her to her business.”
“I…I suppose not,” Sam said. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Fiona grabbed hold of his arm and led him to the open door of the hotel.
Her hold on him, though surprisingly fierce, was also warm and decidedly feminine. A shiver, much more pleasant than the anxious pounding of his heart a moment earlier, ran up his spine.
Despite this pleasant sensation, it could not deter his naturally curious instincts.
“Fiona, is there anything wrong?” he asked as soon as they stepped inside the hotel.
“Of course not,” she said with an uneasy smile, her eyes still glancing to the sheriff and Mrs. Matthews talking outside the window.
“Are you certain?” he asked. “You seem…rather anxious.”
“I’m tired, that’s all,” she said. “Speaking of which, I believe you were going to show me to my room.”
Sam’s initial instinct was to continue pressing Fiona until he got a straight answer. But, after months of writing back and forth, he knew that any attempt to force her to talk would not be fruitful.
Best to ease her into it.
So, he gave her a smile and began to lead her down a long hallway where her room stood.
“I hope you had a safe journey,” he said gently. “We were a little worried when your wagon was late.”
“That had to do with the two gentlemen who came out before me,” Fiona said giving a surprisingly genuine chuckle. “Apparently they had a long night at the saloon at our last stop. Needless to say, they were slow to wake this morning.”
Sam smiled back at her. Glad that he now had something interesting to say.
“It’s amazing how having a saloon in town can change men’s working habits,” he said. “Since the one across the street from the hotel moved in, many men have found themselves too exhausted to devote themselves to morning work.”
“I’ve seen the effects of it first hand,” Fiona admitted. “My Pa…”
She stopped suddenly, and the smile fell from her face as though she had nearly said something that she should not have. They stopped outside the door to her room, and she swallowed, allowing her smile to return.
“Well, let’s just say that my father and all of his comrades were well acquainted with such places.”
“This was back in Tennessee?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” she said hurriedly pursing her lips. Sam opened his mouth to ask her for more about her father and his ‘comrades’ as she had called them. But, as soon as he did, she began to speak again.
“Thank you, Sam, for bringing me to my room,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should rest until dinner.”
A hint of frustration threatened to bubble over as Sam gave her a reluctant smile.
“Of course,” he said. “Rest well, Fiona.”
This time, before he could second guess himself, he reached out and took her hand in his. For half a second, he wondered if he should kiss her knuckles.
But, in the end, he left it too long and only stood in the hallway, holding her warm, soft hand in his grasp.
“Thank you, Sam,” she said giving him a smile. Before he could think of anything more to say, she pulled gently away from him and, with another shy smile, closed her bedroom door.
Sam stood outside the door for several moments, his mind reeling before he finally convinced his feet to move down the hallway.
Even here, questions about this young woman danced through his mind, twisting and turning before he could catch hold of one.
Why had Fiona suddenly been so eager to retreat into her bedroom?
No doubt it was for the same reason that her face became pale when she spied Sheriff Branson walking towards them.
He remembered that the sheriff had once told him that he had spent some time in Tennessee as a lawman. Had the sheriff and Fiona crossed paths there? And, if they had, why should that cause Fiona to be fearful of him?
Surely Fiona had not found herself in trouble with the law. He tried to imagine this shy, educated girl as a thief or some kind of outlaw.
As hard as he tried to picture it, it seemed impossible. The idea was even laughable.
But, Fiona had mentioned her father. Or, rather, she’d mentioned him reluctantly.
Sam recalled how hesitantly she had spoken of her father and her past in general.
There was no question that she was hiding something from him. But, it was impossible for him to know what that might be. And, he knew pushing Fiona for answers would not do him any good.
However, if his theory was correct, there was one other person who might be able to enlighten him.
As he reached the end of the hallway, he marched towards the front door of the hotel. From there, he made his way across the street towards the sheriff’s office…
Chapter Four
Hiding her past from Sam was becoming more and more difficult.
Fiona Greyson had been in town all of two days. In that time, not only had Sam pressed her about her father, her mother and her home back in Tennessee but, the sheriff had kept a careful watch over her every move.
Branson had taken dinner in the hotel with Sam and Fiona the past two nights. And Sam had told her that was unusual for the lawman.
Whenever Fiona went into a shop in town, even to the church down the road, either Branson or one of his deputies was not far behind.
It wasn’t surprising. As soon as they made eye contact, she could tell Branson recognized her. She knew that it was only by some miracle he had not arrested her on some trumped up charge yet.
Now, as they walked down the street towards the jewelry smith’s shop near the small church, Fiona looked behind her and could see one of the sheriff’s men following behind at a safe, though noticeable distance.
“Don’t worry,” Sam said. She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned towards him, her face growing red at having been caught.
“Why should I be worried?” she asked. She knew she sounded completely insincere as she said this. And, Sam’s chuckle told her as much.
“You’ve been looking over your shoulder ever since we left the hotel,” Sam said. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
When she looked into Sam’s smiling eyes, she tried her best to believe him. But, the specter of the sheriff’s man behind them still haunted her.
To her surprise, Sam looked up from her and glanced back at the sheriff’s deputy as well.
“The sheriff just likes to keep an eye on new comers,” Sam said.
“He seems to be keeping an exceptionally close eye on me,” Fiona said. The shaking insecurity had disappeared from her voice. Strangely, she felt much more at ease now that Sam had acknowledged their shadow as well.
“I have to say I’ve noticed that too,” Sam said. “In fact, I tried to speak to him about it when you first arrived.”
Fiona’s heart sank in her chest.
�
�Did you?” she said, trying her best not to sound too guilty.
“Yes,” Sam said. “But, it turns out that Sheriff Branson is as reluctant to talk about his past as you are to talk about yours.”
Fiona’s face went pink again as they stopped outside the shop. He took one of her hands in his and with the other, moved his hand to touch her jaw. Gently, he guided her eyes to meet his.
“Fiona,” he said gently. “You know you can tell me anything. Nothing you say will change how I feel about you.”
She nearly gave in right there. As she looked into his eyes, everything inside her was desperate to tell the whole story. To tell him who…what her father was. What he had done back home. How she had been involved in his affairs.
She opened her mouth, ready to say all of this to him. But, before she could, she saw the sheriff’s man shift out of the corner of her eye.
When Fiona saw this stranger watching her, his eyes narrowed in distrust, she knew this was neither the time nor the place for a grand confession.
So, reluctantly, she turned back towards Sam and gave him the sincerest smile she could muster.
“I will,” she said. “Soon. For now, let’s enjoy the day together.”
She put her hand over his and before he could respond, she turned and led him into the jewelry shop.
“Sam!” Mr. Borowitz, the jeweler, said as soon as they entered.
“Hello, Andy,” Sam said. “I trust you have the rings for us?”
At this, Mr. Borowitz face fell slightly.
“Well, as it turns out, there were more problems with that than I expected,” he said. Fiona looked up and saw Sam’s face grow slightly ashen.
“I…I ordered those rings over two months ago,” Sam said.
Mr. Borowitz shook his head sadly.
“The train for the new shipment was held up going through Colorado,” he said. “I’m afraid all of the jewelry was taken along with the cash. I do have other rings but, they’re significantly more expensive than the ones you purchased.”
Fiona looked at Sam, his face had now turned red with embarrassment as he glanced sideways at Fiona.
She knew he had spent nearly all his money on bringing her out to Laramie. He barely had enough now to see to his everyday needs let alone to purchase more expensive rings.
“I suppose…” he began quietly. “I suppose we could borrow a pair of rings for the ceremony. Then wait until I’ve saved up enough to buy a permanent set.”
He fidgeted with his hands clasped in front of him. Fiona glanced to Mr. Borowitz who was looking at Sam sympathetically. Even so, the older man’s attention was diverted when the bell of the shop’s front door rang.
“Be with you in a moment sir,” the shop owner called out, still looking at Sam.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said. “I’m not sure what else- “
“How much more would the rings you have cost?” Fiona asked. Her heart sped up as the reckless question escaped her. As it did, her hand instinctively moved towards the small chain purse she carried by her side.
Mr. Borowitz looked at her skeptically.
“It’s a large difference, I’m afraid, Miss,” he said.
“How much?” she asked stubbornly.
With a reluctant glance to Sam, who was now staring at Fiona with a great deal of interest, the jeweler told her the amount.
“All right,” she said reaching into her coin purse. “We’ll take the rings. I assume you have them here?”
She lifted the cash amount from her coin purse and handed it directly to the jeweler who looked from her to the money with eyes wide.
A moment later, he swallowed hard as though recovering from a great shock.
“Of course, Miss,” he said. “They’re in the back of the shop. I will return with them shortly.”
Still staring at the cash in hand as though he could not even begin to imagine such a sum, the jeweler made his way to the back of the shop.
She looked up at Sam who was still staring at her, eyes wide.
“I…” he began. “If I ask how you came across that money will you give me a straight answer?”
His eyes narrowed as though he was not certain he should believe her, no matter what answer she did give.
“Does it matter to you where the money came from?” she asked. “You told me not ten minutes ago that you would not throw me out because of my past.”
“I also said that you could tell me anything,” he said pointedly. “If there’s something you’re hiding…” here he took her hand in his. “I need to know. Maybe I could help you.”
Looking into his eyes, she wanted to tell him the truth right then. There, in that little shop, she was tempted to say everything that was on her mind. About her father, about what he did to earn his living, about his money....
She opened her mouth to begin. As soon as she did, she heard the bell chime, signaling someone leaving the shop. Glancing over Sam’s shoulder to the door, she saw the deputy stepping out of the shop and moving hurriedly to the other side of the street.
Her hand grew lax in Sam’s grip, and her heart sank.
She could not imagine what the young man could possibly report back to his boss. After all, it was not a crime for a woman to have cash on hand.
None the less, the young man’s sudden departure made Fiona nervous. It also reminded her of a truth that, looking into Sam’s eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand in hers, she had nearly forgotten.
The more Sam knew, the more trouble he would be in with the sheriff. Now that Sheriff Branson knew who she was, he would seek out everyone connected with her.
She couldn’t put Sam in that position.
So, reluctantly, she pulled her hand out of his grasp.
“It’s best if you don’t know much about it, Sam.”
“That’s exactly what the sheriff said,” Sam told her. Her eyes grew wide as she looked back at him. Her heart began to beat quickly.
“What else did he say?”
Her voice had grown small and begun to shake again.
“Truth be told, he was nearly as silent on the subject as you are,” Sam said. “He told me he remembered a family called Greyson back in Tennessee. Then he said that it was best I didn’t know too much about what happened there.”
Fiona’s heart sank as she stepped away from him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“I didn’t think I had any other choice,” he said. “I knew you were afraid of something. You wouldn’t tell me what it was. I had to find out somehow.”
“It doesn’t concern you, Sam,” she said quietly taking another step away. She was nearly at the shop door now. “Why didn’t you just leave it be?”
Now his face fell as he looked at her, his eyes now filling with remorse.
“Fiona…I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think…”
“That is apparent,” she said more harshly than she’d intended. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and she felt anger at her fiancé rising up to replace the fear she had known a moment before.
“I told you time and again in my letters that I had no interest in dwelling on the past,” she said. “I did not ask for you to treat me like a curiosity or a story for your newspaper. I came here…I agreed to marry you…because I wanted a new life.”
“I know that Fiona,” he said. “But, you can’t have a new life if you’re always looking over your shoulder, terrified that the old one might follow you. If you’ll just let me- “
He took a step towards her and held his hand out to her. She stepped hastily away, her back now colliding with the door.
“I will return to the hotel and dress for dinner,” she said, instinctively turning the knob. “I trust you can see to the rings yourself.”
Before he could answer or call her back, she opened the door and rushed out.
Now, walking down the street, the anger she had felt facing Sam in that shop began to dissipate.
After all, was it truly hi
s fault that Branson happened to be the sheriff of this town? Was it wrong of Sam to want to know what had frightened his fiancé upon her arrival?
The longer she walked, the more she thought about what had transpired, she realized the only person she could truly blame for her predicament was herself.
If she had told Sam from the beginning about her Father, what he did for a living, the kind of company he kept, there would have been no need for him to speak to the Sheriff.
But, then, she asked herself. If she had told him either by letter when they first began corresponding, or by word of mouth as soon as she arrived, what would Sam have done?
If she had told him the truth by letter, he might have stopped writing altogether. May have decided that marriage to an outlaw’s daughter was not worth the hassle it would bring.
If she had told him the truth the day she arrived, she would have had to tell him about her father’s history with Sheriff Branson as well. If she did that, it was even more likely that Sam would throw her over.
She knew that Sam and the sheriff shared something like a bond. And, if Sam knew why the sheriff’s hatred of Fiona’s father ran so deep, perhaps he would take the sheriff’s hatred as his own.
A deep melancholy replaced the anger as she moved towards the hotel.
She realized now, even though these doubts still existed about what Sam might choose to do, she would have to tell him the truth. And, after the whole truth was laid bare at his feet, it would be up to him whether or not he wanted her to remain or leave.
When she entered the hotel’s lobby, her mind in firm set resolve, she was met by a figure that drove Sam almost entirely from her mind.
She did her best to suppress a gasp though her eyes widened and the blood drained out of her face as she came face to face with Sheriff Branson flanked by two deputies.
“Fiona Greyson,” Branson said in a serious and official sounding voice. “I’m arresting you on a charge of theft.”
Chapter Five
“Where is she?”