“Do you know where they are?” Seth asked.
Lucas shook his head. “They made it as far as the Colorado. They fell behind after that.”
Relief and gloominess settled in Becca’s chest as she and Seth ambled into town. Putting her past behind her and making a fresh start wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.
The news about her father was equally comforting and disturbing. She didn’t know what to make of it, and the doubt nagged. It was enough to give her pause, but would it be enough to keep Seth from turning her parents in? He hadn’t said anything one way or another, but he was a man of integrity. The knowledge had to be eating at him just like it was at her. Becca knew she should report them herself—in the heat of angry moments, she hungered for revenge—but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Groaning, she shifted in the saddle. Her back ached, her legs cramped, and her bottom was part painful, part numb. “Stop,” she called to Seth when they reached the middle of town. “I’m getting off here.”
His left cheek creased and his lips formed a thin line, making her fear he might refuse. Instead, he gave a single nod. He dismounted long enough to help her do the same, then climbed back on Zeus, holding Cyrus’ lead line. “I’ll be back shortly. Be sure to lock the door.”
Becca nodded and slowly took the steps of the hotel. If she could get away with rubbing more than her lower back in public, she would. Maybe Seth would arrange another hot bath. Then again, maybe not. Money was in short supply and he didn’t have a job.
A large, work-worn hand reached for the door, and she lifted her head to thank its owner for the chivalrous act. The sentiment died in her throat when she saw the stern face staring back at her. Her eyes tracked along a stiff arm, back to the man’s hand. It was pressed flat against the door, not curled around the handle to pull it open.
“Are you Rebecca Garvey?” His voice was gruff, and his tone was as curt as the set of his slate-colored eyes.
“I was.” She took a wary step back. “I’m Rebecca Emerson now.”
“Were you traveling with the Pittman train through New Mexico Territory last August?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the daughter of Levi and Martha Garvey?”
Her lungs drew a dread-filled breath. “Yes.”
“In that case, you’re coming with me.”
“Why? Who are you?”
“I’m Sherman Hicks, Sheriff of Blackwater.” He withdrew a short length of rope from his back pocket. “Hold out your hands. You’re under arrest.”
“Me? There must be some mistake.”
He leveled a dissenting gaze so dark it brooked no argument. “I said give me your hands.”
Becca’s heart flailed against her ribs and a chill swept over her skin. She lifted her arms. The sheriff looped the rope around her wrists as casually as if he was tying shoelaces. He seemed oblivious to the gathering crowd.
She wasn’t. She was mortified. Faces of people she knew dappled the cluster of spectators. Women who’d welcomed her at her wedding supper looked on in horror.
Becca turned her eyes away and stared at a spot on the ground. What would they think of her now?
“Sheriff Hicks,” one of the ladies said. “Is that really necessary?”
His fingers stilled, and he looked up with a mixture of irritation and confusion on his face. “I don’t have a choice. I have to arrest her.”
“But she’s cooperating, and she’s so slight compared to you. Must you bind her like that?”
Supportive murmurs followed, male and female alike.
The sheriff scanned the crowd. He looked back at Becca with slitted eyes and a scowl. “If I untie you, will you run from me?”
Becca swallowed and shook her head.
He removed the rope. As she rubbed the burn from her wrists, Hicks rested his palm on the butt of his revolver. “Don’t give me any trouble.”
He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and squeezed so hard she thought he’d snap the bone. She offered no resistance as he led her down the boardwalk, doubling her steps to match his long strides, but he didn’t let up.
Some of the townspeople hurried away while others followed along in the street. “She seemed so nice,” one of them said. “What did she do to get arrested?” another pondered.
Becca wondered the same thing, but she dared not ask now. Not while so many eyes and ears were trained on her.
The sheriff hauled her into his office and shut the pine door on the crowd. “Are you armed?”
“No. Um, just my knife.”
Becca gasped when his fingers went for the buttons of her coat. He crudely divested her of the garment and hung it on a rack near the door. Next, he reached for her waist. Her pulse shot as high as her arms. He tugged loose the tether and tossed the sheath aside, knife and all. Then, breeching all bounds of decorum, he ran his hands down the sides of her skirt, lifted the hem, and examined her ankles.
Becca’s impulse was to scold him for accosting her, but she clamped her jaw shut and pressed her teeth into her tongue. The stab of fingers digging into her arm affirmed she’d made the right choice. With a viselike grip, he steered her toward the empty cell on the other side of the room and swung open the door.
Becca’s knees locked, and her boots dug for purchase on the dusty wood floor.
Hicks’ fingers curled painfully into her flesh. “Don’t fight me, woman. The only reason I untied you was because the people who voted me into office seem to think you deserve mercy. I don’t share that opinion.”
“Please,” Becca said, quaking under the glare of the ruthless man towering over her, “at least tell me why you’re doing this.”
His lips scrunched as if he’d eaten something sour. “Among other things, your actions on the trail led to an innocent man’s death. I don’t know the way things are where you come from, but here in California, murder’s a hanging offense.”
“Bu— But I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t steal from other people’s wagons?”
“No.”
“You didn’t steal rations and hide from your family?”
“No.”
“You didn’t put some of your belongings in Melvin Cantwell’s wagon to throw suspicion off yourself?”
Her eyes rounded. She shook her head to emphasize the point. “No.”
“Well, if you didn’t, then who did?” Hicks’ brows were raised in question, but his lips held a smug curve.
Becca stared at the steely eyes boring into hers. She forced a swallow past the lump in her throat to keep the contents of her stomach from coming up.
“If you have information that can clear your name, tell me.” He gave her arm a shake. “Well, Mrs. Emerson?”
Her parents’ names nudged her lips, but she couldn’t force her mouth to speak. Her knees turned to jelly and her spirit drained from her chest. “I don’t.”
“Hmph. Figured as much.” He shoved her into the cell and locked the iron door behind her with a fatal clang.
Holding a river of tears at bay, Becca surveyed the tiny space. The sheriff’s office was sparse, but the six-by-six room he’d confined her to was bleak. A few rays of light passed through a single, barred window high above her head in the concrete wall. A chipped chamber pot sat completely exposed in the left corner, and a filthy, tattered cot lined the wall to her right. The emotion clogging her nose and throat dimmed the smell, but the foul, musty air made her wretch.
Becca turned around and stared through the bars. Her bladder had been begging for release since two miles out of town, but she squeezed her thighs tight and held her water. She refused to lift her skirts and squat where the sheriff—and anyone else who walked in—could plainly see. She considered sitting on the cot, but the lines of the striped tick wiggled as if they were alive, and stains she couldn’t identify covered more of the surface than the dingy spaces in between.
Crossing the room, Becca hugged herself and leaned against the far wall. She ran he
r hands along her arms to rub away the chill and winced when her fingers brushed the place Hicks had squeezed. She’d have bruises tomorrow.
The sheriff removed his dark brown sack coat and sat at his desk. After slipping on a pair of spectacles, he shuffled through a stack of papers and began writing as if he were penning invitations to a soiree. His calm confidence only heightened her fear.
The door to the office flew upon and light rushed in along with Seth. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.
Becca’s heart thrilled at the sight of him, but that comfort faded faster than a winter sunset. She hugged herself tighter and looked away. He’d surely regret marrying her now.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Seth’s voice was low and seemingly calm, but she knew better. The words had been all but growled.
“I...” She didn’t know where to begin.
“Your wife’s under arrest.”
“For what!”
Becca lifted her eyes. Seth was glaring at Hicks, not her.
Hicks rose. “Well, theft, for starters.”
“What in blazes did she take? And from whom?”
“She stole from other travelers, last year on the trail. It’ll all be sorted out at her arraignment. I sent word to the marshal. He should be here sometime next week.”
Seth paled. “You called in a US Marshal?”
“The crime happened in a territory, not a state. That makes it federal.”
Seth rubbed the back of his neck. His throat bobbed with a swallow. His hand slid from his nape, and he sighed. “Can I see her?”
Hicks glowered for a moment. “Fine. But give me your weapons.” He pointed to Seth’s sidearm and held out his hand.
Seth pulled the Colt from its holster and handed it over butt first.
“I want everything.” Hicks pointed to his boot.
Seth propped his foot on the worn seat of the chair between him and the sheriff’s desk. He slid his knife from its sheath and gave him that, too.
Hicks set the items next to Becca’s knife. “I said everything.”
“That is everything.”
Hicks narrowed his eyes and glowered some more.
Widening his stance, Seth held his arms out from his body and turned his palms to the ceiling. His posture was submissive, but his expression didn’t yield.
“Go ahead,” Hicks grumbled, giving a flick of his head.
Seth swiped off his hat, crossed the room, and stared through the bars. “Becca? Are you all right?”
She nodded and closed the distance between them, dragging her feet when she wanted to run. Looking up into his questioning eyes, she forced hoarse words from her throat. “I didn’t do it.”
His lips curved into a troubled smile. “I know you didn’t.” He stuck his hand through the bars and wiggled his fingers in invitation.
He didn’t have to ask twice. She latched onto his hand with her own.
“We’ll get through this. Don’t worry.” His words were spoken in good faith, but doubt lingered in the shadows. “Do you have the key to our room?”
“No. I never made it inside. He arrested me right after you dropped me off.”
Seth cursed softly. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Becca crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs as tightly as she could. She was about to embarrass herself worse than hiking her skirts in front of a stranger. “Will you stand between me and him? I need a private moment.”
Seth looked in the direction of the chamber pot. His gaze shot back to her, flaming like a fresh torch. “I’ll do you one better.” He turned and strode to Hicks’ desk, muscles coiled and boot heels pounding like thunder. “Step outside with me.”
“I’m not going anywh—”
“Yes you are. My wife needs privacy. Now. Step outside.”
Hicks tossed his glasses down and rose amidst a loud scrape of chair legs, but a strangled noise in his throat betrayed the bravado. Maybe he did have a speck of decency under all that crassness.
Becca nearly wept with relief when the door closed behind them. She rushed through her task, but she didn’t need to. Seth gave her plenty of time.
He returned and grasped her fingers through the bars like before. “I’m going to retrieve your things from our room and get you some supper. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Becca paced the filthy floor, casting occasional glances at Hicks hunched over his desk, absorbed with paperwork. She hated being alone with him.
Seth finally walked back in, arms loaded, and she sent a prayer of thanks heavenward. The half hour he’d been gone had felt like a year. He spread everything on Hicks’ desk.
“What’s all this?”
“Her belongings and her supper. I figured you’d want to search it first.”
Hicks sifted through the loose items. He opened Becca’s valise and peered inside. “This really isn’t necessary. I planned to feed her, and she’s got everything she needs in her cell.”
“She doesn’t even have a blanket.”
“I would’ve given her one,” he said tiredly.
Seth hung his duster and hat on the rack, then gathered everything back up and headed for the cell. He walked in when Hicks opened the door, and Becca had to twist her hands into a knot to keep from throwing her arms around him.
“Well?” Hicks said. “What are you waiting for? Put it down and come back out.”
“Lock me in. I’m staying with my wife.”
Hicks shook his head and sighed. “Suit yourself.”
Seth eyed the cot and frowned. “You got a sheet for this filthy bed?”
“Hang on. I’ll get it.”
Hicks reached inside a small, freestanding cabinet next to the cell and shoved a wad of tattered cotton through the bars. Becca spread it over the cot, trying not to touch the smelly mattress as she tucked under the edges. At least the sheet was clean.
She and Seth sat side by side and nibbled on the roast beef sandwiches he’d brought. She wasn’t sure what occupied his thoughts, but she knew what plagued hers. “They think I hid on purpose and implicated Mr. Cantwell,” she said in a soft voice.
“I know.” Seth looked past her to Hicks. “I pried a few details from him while we were outside.”
Her insides prickled with a flutter of nerves. “Did you tell him about my parents?”
“No.” A troubled expression ghosted over his brow as he turned his attention back to her. “I was planning to turn them in, at first. But after hearing what that lookout said, things don’t seem so black and white anymore.”
They finished their meal and sat in silence.
The office door opened and a rather scraggy young man came in. He glanced at them as he removed his coat and hat, then walked over to the desk and spoke with the sheriff.
“Who’s that?” Becca asked Seth.
“Probably his deputy.”
Hicks cleared his desk and tugged on his coat. He crossed the room to the cell as the young man settled into his vacated chair. “Arnold’s in charge while I’m gone. Don’t give him any trouble.”
The implied threat combined with the sheriff’s stern glare turned the food in Becca’s stomach to stone.
Seth seemed unfazed. “Innocent people don’t make trouble.”
“Hmph.” Hicks frowned as he spun on his heel. He headed for the door, grabbed his hat, and left.
Seth scooted to the end of the cot and turned sideways, resting one boot on the mattress and leaving the other on the floor. Urging her closer, he nestled her in the vee of his thighs and guided her head to his chest. The concrete wall he was leaning against had to be cold and hard, but that didn’t seem to faze him either. He shook out the blanket he’d brought and wrapped her in wool.
Becca closed her eyes and inhaled her husband’s familiar scent. Despite the long ride, he smelled far better than anything else in the cell. The warmth seeping through his flannel shirt and the steady thump of his heart began to soothe her fears.
Seth slid a f
inger along her jaw and tilted her face up. “Are you angry with me?”
“For what?”
“For wanting to turn your parents in.”
She thought about it for the space of a breath. “No. Your integrity is one of the things I love about you. I can’t expect you to forsake that just because it affects me or someone I care about.”
He gazed into her eyes for a long, heartwarming moment, with such bare appreciation that it nearly stole her breath.
His grateful smile turned cocky. “You said that’s one of the things. What else do you love about me?”
Becca grabbed his finger and twisted it playfully. “You can mark humility off the list.”
He chuckled.
She glanced over her shoulder at the pock-faced deputy leaning back in his chair, watching them. He pressed his feeble lips together and rolled his close-set eyes.
“Let him scoff,” Seth murmured when she turned her face back. “He’s just jealous. I mean, look at him—he’s homely and he works nights. I’d lay odds his bed is empty.”
“Seth Lawrence Emerson!” She slapped his chest.
He shook with a deep, rumbling laugh—the scamp—and his twinkling eyes withered her indignation. The way they always did.
“Ah, Becca,” he said, wrapping her in his muscular arms. “Life with you is anything but boring.”
“I’d welcome boring right now.” She slid her arms around his waist. His body was as solid and unmovable as the trunk of a tree, and she clung to it. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” He held her tight. “But don’t lose faith. That lookout—what was his name? Lucas?—he had it right. Rumor isn’t proof. We just have to be patient and give the truth time to sort itself out.”
Becca snuggled closer and stared into the gathering dark. I hope you’re right.
Becca blinked at the pale morning light filtering down through the tiny barred window. Seth’s arm rested heavily across her waist. Sometime in the night, he’d stretch out behind her on the cot and tucked her against him. Warmth from the coal-burning heater near the sheriff’s desk barely reached the inside of the cell. And strangely, she didn’t mind. She preferred Seth’s heat to any other source.
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