SHERIFF: His Town. His Laws. His Justice.

by Maggie Carpenter

  SHERIFF

  His Town. His Laws. His Justice.

  MAGGIE CARPENTER

  ADULT ADVISORY

  This book is for adults only, and contains scenes of spanking, graphic sex, bondage, sensory deprivation, and are fantasies only, intended for adults. This book is not for children, nor does it condone corporal punishment of children. This book also contains scenes of violence. This book does not support nonconsensual spanking or any other nonconsensual activities, sexual or otherwise.

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  PROLOGUE

  Her back pressed against the wall of the building, her heart pounding and her panic rising, Violet Parker tried to calm her desperate breathing. The unnerving high-pitched shrill of the police whistles were drawing closer. If she was caught it would mean prison, and even worse, an interrogation by the dreaded Detective Connelly. At the end of the alley was a pile of junk, and for a moment she considered hiding beneath it, but it was a foolish notion. The constables would surely hunt through it and she'd end up a smelly mess for no good reason.

  "What can I do?" she muttered frantically. "There must be…"

  Then it came to her. An idea so outlandish it would have to work.

  Running down the short narrow lane she hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off, then removing her skirt she rolled them together, and stuffed them under a crate. Her reddish-brown hair was pinned under a pink bonnet, and hastily removing it she took away the hair pins letting her long locks spill around her shoulders. But her bag. Her precious bag. It didn't just contain her clothes and personal items, but the only money she had in the world. Dashing to the opposite side of the mess, she hurriedly hid it under a pile of boxes.

  The whistles suddenly grew louder!

  The police were perilously close.

  Throwing herself on the ground, she winced as she hit the rough dirt, but there was no time to think about the sharp pain throbbing through her elbow. Sprawled on the earth in her undergarments she closed her eyes and waited to be found.

  "HEY! OVER HERE!"

  She could hear feet running towards her. She'd made it with seconds to spare.

  "Miss, Miss, are you all right?"

  Opening her eyes Violet saw a worried young constable crouched beside her. Wanting to fluster him further she rolled on her back, exposing her ample cleavage. It had the desired effect. He blushed beet red.

  "A woman, she attacked me," Violet whimpered, covering her chest with her arms in feigned shyness. "Dear Lord, I'm so embarrassed."

  "Don't you worry," he said urgently, hastily unbuttoning his jacket. "You're safe now."

  As he laid the jacket over her she spied two more officers marching down the alley. Slowly sitting up she covertly scrutinized them as she wrapped the coat around her. They didn't look familiar and she let out a breath of relief. One was another young constable, but the other was older. She'd need to be careful with him.

  "Easy, ma'am," the older man said, pushing the wide-eyed youth out of the way. "Are you all right?"

  "I think so, just my elbow. I'm so embarrassed," she repeated, looking at him woefully.

  "May I see?"

  "Uh, all right, I suppose," she murmured, in the best timid voice she could muster.

  Stretching out her arm from under the jacket, she was surprised by the injury. It looked worse than it felt. The skin had been ripped away, and blood was oozing from the nasty gash.

  "That will hurt for a bit, but you'll be okay," the older policeman said reassuringly, with the slightest hint of an Irish accent. "Tell me what happened."

  "I was just walking down the street minding my own business when this woman suddenly shoved me into this alley. She even had a gun. I was so scared. She made me take off my dress, then she put it on right in front of me. Not over her own clothes, I didn't mean that. Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I'm just so upset. She pushed me to the ground then climbed over that wall."

  "What was she wearing?"

  "A pink bonnet, a white blouse and a grey skirt. She stuffed them under the mess over there by that crate. What am I going to do? She didn't just rob me of my clothing, she took my purse as well," Violet lamented, tears beginning to dribble down her cheeks. "How will I get home?"

  "What color was your dress?"

  "Powder blue with pink flowers, and it had lace around the waist. It was one of my favorites," she mumbled, her face crinkling in despair, then dropping her head into her hands she began to sob.

  "Take a breath. We're here now. Tell me your name."

  "Marigold," Violet lied, sniffling as she raised her head. "Marigold Adams. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so upset."

  "It's understandable, ma'am, and you're right, we can't have you wandering around the streets, uh, like you are. How would you feel about wearing that woman's clothes just long enough to get you out of here?"

  "I, uh, I suppose."

  "Griffin," he said sharply, turning to the young constable standing behind him. "Dig them out, and be quick about it. I need to make sure everyone knows to look for a woman wearing a blue dress with pink flowers."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Try not to worry," he said warmly, turning back to Violet. "I'm sure we'll catch this woman and get your purse back."

  "Thank you for helping me."

  "Just doing my job."

  "It's going to feel strange putting on her things. Your men won't mistake me for her, will they?"

  "I'll have Constable Griffin escort you home so you can change, then you'll have to come down to the station and give us a statement."

  "I'll be happy to, but yes, I definitely need to clean up and change."

  "Tell me, Marigold, was the woman carrying a bag?"

  "She was. She put my purse in it. I don't know how she made it over the wall with that big thing. Funny though…"

  "What's that?"

  "She looked familiar."

  "You've seen her before?"

  "I think so, but I'm sure I must be mistaken."

  "Where?"

  "I have a cousin who lives on the East side of town. She's poorly, I visit her quite often and I could swear I've seen that woman there."

  "Why do you think you're mistaken?"

  "It's not a very nice area, Sergeant. You are a sergeant, right? I thought that's what I heard."

  "Yes, I'm a sergeant. What you were saying about where you saw her?"

  "Folk from there don't generally come to this part of town."

  "I think there's a very good chance that's exactly where that woman lives. You've been a big help."

  "I have?"

  "Excuse me," the young constable said stepping forward. "Here are the clothes. They're not too bad."

  "All right, Marigold, you get on home and I might see you at the station house later. If I'm not there the constable will take you to see Detective Connelly. He's the one you'll need to speak with."

  "Sergeant, who is this woman?" Violet asked innocently. "Why did she attack me?"

  "Her name is Violet Parker, The detective has been after her for some time."

  "What has she done?"

  "What hasn't she done, more like?" Griffin piped up."There isn't an area of this city s
he hasn't conned someone. Today she confused a butcher exchanging money and walked away with—"

  "That's enough, Griffin," the sergeant declared as he straightened up. "See this young lady home then go back to the station. Goodbye, Marigold."

  "Goodbye, Sergeant, and thank you again."

  "Here you are," Griffin said, awkwardly handing Violet the skirt and blouse as his sergeant marched away. "I hope they fit."

  "Would you mind terribly standing guard at the end of the alley? I'd die if someone were to see me getting dressed."

  "Yes, of course. I should have thought of that myself."

  "It might take me a while. I'm still a bit shaky."

  "Take all the time you need. You join me when you're ready."

  "Thank you ever so much. I never knew what a lovely police force we have here."

  "Thank you, ma'am."

  "Marigold. You can call me Marigold," she twinkled at him. "What's your name?"

  "Uh, George. George Griffin."

  "Very nice to meet you, George. So, will you go to the end of the alley?"

  "What? Oh, yes. Sorry. As I said, take your time."

  "Thank you, George. See you in a few minutes, and when we get back to my place I'll make you some coffee. Is that all right? You being on duty, I mean."

  "As long as we don't tell," he said with a happy grin.

  "Not a soul."

  "Right, well then, I'll just go on up to the street."

  "No peeking!"

  "I wouldn't dream of it, Marigold."

  She waited until he was well on his way before hurriedly dressing, then retrieving her bag she carefully clambered up the mess of junk and peered over the wall. On the other side was a children's playground with not a soul in sight, but it was a long drop. She'd have to remove her shoes to land safely. Looking over her shoulder she saw Griffin standing straight and tall with his hands behind his back. She almost felt sorry for him, but she had no time for guilt. Dropping her bag, she turned her attention to her feet. Though precariously balanced she managed to remove her fashionable boots and tossed them over, then straddling the narrow top, she swung a leg around, gripped the edge with her fingertips, swung the other, then lowered herself down and let go.

  She tumbled as she landed, but it had been planned, and quickly donning her boots, she grabbed her bag and walked swiftly across the playground. She'd been on her way to a stage-coach office when she'd decided to do a last-minute swindle for some extra cash. To her chagrin the butcher realized what was happening and tried to detain her. Though she'd managed to escape his grasp, he'd run out of the store and raised the alarm.

  "Why did I do it?" she grumbled. "If nothing else it was a sign I need to get out of there, that's for sure."

  As she turned down the main road in the direction of the stagecoach office she saw no sign of police officers. They'd be well on their way to her old neighborhood, but she still had to change clothes. The young constable wouldn't stay at his post much longer, then the jig would be up. Spying a dress shop a little further ahead she quickened her pace, and pushing through the store door she could see it would be expensive. It didn't surprise her. It was an expensive part of town.

  "Good afternoon," the saleswoman said, eyeing her up and down as she approached.

  "You must forgive me. I'm in a terrible state," Violet began, feigning an upscale East Coast accent. "I'm afraid I just had a frightful argument with my husband. We're here from New York."

  "New York?"

  "Yes, he's a surgeon. He rather likes the idea of moving to this new frontier. That's what San Francisco is called in our circles. The New Frontier. Anyway, there's a new hospital being built here and he's come to speak to the men in charge about heading up their surgical department."

  "My goodness. I'm well aware of that hospital. Everyone is. How exciting."

  "I suppose it is, except we had a frightful argument and I threw my wedding ring at him. I was so upset I tossed a few things into this bag and left, and now, well, look at the state of me. I was so flustered I tripped as I was hurrying away from the hotel. I have no intention of leaving him. I just wanted to scare him, but now I've hurt my arm. See the blood coming through the material?"

  "That's just terrible. I have some bandages in the back. You must let me help you."

  "That's very kind of you, but it's probably not as bad as it looks. The problem is, everything in my bag will be crumpled as well, and I cannot abide looking like this. I was planning on visiting Gump's but I'd be embarrassed walking in dressed as I am."

  "I'm sure I can find something that will be suitable."

  "You do have a lovely shop, but I'm afraid I left with very little money. Silly me! Would you be willing to send a bill? We're staying at the Palace Hotel, though I have no intention of going back there until the sun begins to set. Let him stew, I say! Men!"

  "I'm, uh, not sure the owner would approve."

  "You're not the owner? Is the owner available?"

  "I'm afraid not. He doesn't come here very often. I'm the manager."

  "I certainly wouldn't want to get you into any trouble…sorry, I didn't catch your name."

  "Mildred. Mildred Thomas."

  "How do you do. I'm Emily O'Connor. My husband is Harold O'Connor. You've no doubt heard of O'Connor Tonic?"

  "That's your husband?"

  "Yes, in fact I have some of the mixture with me. I never go anywhere without it. It's such a cure-all."

  "I have a suggestion," Mildred said, lowering her voice. "We'll find you something and you can sign for it. That way if Mr. Martin, that's the owner, if he says anything I can say you guaranteed payment. Of course by the time he shows up your husband will have taken care of the matter. I just need it in case Mr. Martin shows up unexpectedly. Would you do that?"

  "Of course I will. Thank you, Mildred. You must join us for dinner one night this week. I insist, and I'll make sure Harold lets me come back here to buy more of your lovely outfits."

  "That would be wonderful, Emily. Thank you."

  "Thank you, Mildred. It's the least I can do. Unfortunately this sort of thing happens when we travel. He becomes irritable when he's tired. He was an absolute bear for days when we arrived in London."

  "You've been to London?"

  "Lovely place, then we went on to Paris. Divine, though I don't speak French so it was a bit difficult at times."

  "I have a new dress in from Paris. Let me show it to you. I know you'll love it."

  Fifteen minutes later, wearing a stylish new blouse and skirt, Violet left the store and hurried to the stage coach office to board the first departing carriage. She didn't care where it was headed, she just needed to exit San Francisco. The city had been good to her, but the dastardly Detective Connelly had been pursuing her for almost two years, and after a recent narrow escape she couldn't risk staying.

  Arriving at the depot, she entered the office carrying herself with the aplomb and attitude to match her expensive new clothes, and approaching the counter she had to suppress a grin. The mature clerk perked up the moment he saw her.

  "May I help you?"

  "When is your next coach departing and where is it going?"

  "In about ten minutes, and it's headed south."

  "How far south?"

  "The last stop is a small town called Brownsville."

  "Brownsville," she said thoughtfully, the name conjuring up images cactus and desert. "Do you know anything about it?"

  "It started with a gold mine but the gold ran out. Now it's mostly ranchers and such like. Never been there but I've heard good things."

  "So it's not a desert."

  "Oh, no, it's not a desert. Not like Arizona. Are you looking for a place to take a vacation?"

  "Not exactly," she replied, looking at him with a pained expression. "I'm leaving my husband. I can't take it anymore. I want to go as far as the coach can take me."

  "Are you sure? That's a long, difficult journey for a young lady."

  "Nothing coul
d be more difficult than being with that man a single second longer. He shoved me to the ground. Look what he did to my arm," she said woefully, pulling up the loose sleeve of her new blouse.

  "That's terrible. You should go to the police."

  "I can't. He has friends on the force. Please, sir, if anyone comes in here asking after me, I beg you, don't tell them I've been here or where I'm going."

  "Don't you worry. Your secret is safe with me, Mrs…?"

  "I won't mention my name. That way you won't have to lie."

  "Aren't you a clever lass."

  "Thank you. I just want to be in a nice quiet place for a while, a place I can gather my thoughts and feel safe."

  "I understand."

  "I don't have much money on me. I hope the fare isn't too expensive."

  "I have a daughter about your age, and I'd like to think a stranger would help her if she ever found herself in a pickle like you. Here, take this ticket. We'll just keep it between ourselves. If anyone asks I can honestly say I didn't sell any tickets to any pretty young ladies."

  "Oh, my goodness. Thank you. You're so kind."

  "Best hurry. It'll be leaving soon."

  A short time later, as the carriage rolled through the city streets, Violet let out a long, relieved sigh. She genuinely craved a quiet place to live, and a small town with nice people sounded heavenly. All she wanted was to meet a decent man, marry him and have precious babies.

  "Is that too much to ask?" she murmured. "Dear Lord, I hope not."

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sheriff Cooper Dalton marched down the dusty street, and nearing the brawling hotheads he removed his gun from his holster. The bystanders egging them on immediately fell away, but the fighters weren't yet aware of his presence. It was much easier attracting attention firing a gun in the air than yelling, and raising his pistol he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, and jumping away from each other, the two boys stared around in fright.

  "What the heck do you think you're doin'?" Cooper demanded. "You know I don't allow fightin' in the streets."