by Lydia Olson
Crane said nothing, waiting for Stevens to continue on.
Stevens exhaled, moved to his own desk, and sat down. “I want you to close this matter with the stagecoach,” he said. “And I want you to find out what happened to the missing members of the party. I also want whatever refuse that was left behind from your association with Tucker Willis to be cleaned up. After that, you go quiet. No more side jobs, no more friendships with the sultry characters of this town, none of it. You’re going to keep your nose clean. You’re going to act like a model citizen, you understand me?”
Crane nodded repeatedly. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered. “I will. I swear it, I will.”
“You better,” Stevens said. “Because if I catch you out of line again, if I see that you’re breaking the rules—you’re going to be the next person that gets buried here in Clarendon. It won’t be another witness to your exploits that you’ve so conveniently disposed of. This veneer of respect and being an upstanding member of Clarendon are slipping, and you need to get back on track before someone comes poking their nose into our business around here and doing us in for good. Are you understanding me, son?”
Crane kept nodding. “Loud and clear, Sheriff. Loud and clear.”
The door to the sheriff’s office opened, and in walked Owen Adams. His mouth was open, prepared to say something to Crane and he looked like was in a hot hurry. But when Adams looked at the sheriff, he put on a smile and tilted the brim of his hat.
“Welcome back, sir,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” He looked at Crane. “Uh, Michael, can we, uh, talk outside for a moment?”
“If this is about the stagecoach or the train debacle,” Stevens said, “you can speak with me present. I just got finished telling Crane here that I know everything that’s been going on.”
The color drained from Adams’s face. He looked at Crane, shock in his expression.
“It’s alright,” Crane assured Adams. “We’re not in trouble. The sheriff and I have been discussing everything. Go on, say what you have to say.”
Adams looked at the sheriff one more time before clearing his throat. “We found them, Chief,” he said.
“Found who?” Crane asked.
“Sarah Harris and David Bryant. They’re alive.”
It took Crane a moment to process the news. “Are you … are you sure?” he asked.
“I am,” Adams said. “We spotted them in Atwater. They were getting on the train headed here. We tried to catch up, but the train managed to beat us. They’re here right now, Chief. The train is just rolling into town.”
Stevens looked at Crane. “That’s them?” he asked. “Those are the people you were looking for? Your bride-to-be?”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Crane said, still trying to fathom that Sarah was still alive. “I was hoping she perished after her run-in with Tucker Willis. She saw his face. I was worried that—”
“Well,” Stevens cut in, “you don’t have to worry about that now. She’s here. Go and tend to her.” He looked at Adams. “And you, go find where Tucker Willis is. Crane here just told me he was killed. If that’s the case, then I want you to find the body and bring him back so we can put him on display. The townsfolk will appreciate hearing that he’s no longer among the ranks of the living.”
“Ten miles from here,” Crane said to Adams. “That’s where I was told the body is. Take Schmidt with you. Get it done, quickly.”
Adams said nothing as he retreated from the room. Crane heard the sounds of a train pulling into the station two doors down, just as Adams threw open the door. Crane ducked out of the office, ran up to the station, and saw Sarah Harris getting off onto the platform with David Bryant by her side.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As the door to the train opened, Sarah felt like a door to her new life had opened as well. She blushed as she stood next to David and descended the steps onto the platform. The smell of flowers carried on the breeze and the warm temperature of the sun overhead felt like the scene was being set for a new beginning. The one word that came to mind as soon as her eyes settled on the tranquil little town was: hope.
“Where to first?” Sarah asked David.
David took a look around Clarendon. It was a quaint town, up-and-coming. There were buildings on the other side of the platform, stretching east to west. David saw a church about two blocks north, and for a moment he wondered if that would end up being the location where he would take Sarah as his bride.
“I need to find my uncle’s lawyer,” he said. “I have to figure out—”
“David,” Sarah said suddenly, just shy of a whimper.
David looked up, his mind running to Tucker Willis, thinking that he was out there on the street—but he wasn’t, and after another scan of the area, he wasn’t sure why Sarah sounded so upset.
“What is it?” he asked.
Sarah sighed. “It’s Michael Crane. He’s here. On the platform.”
***
Michael Crane approached and slowly took off his hat. He wore the same pleasant demeanor he gave to most Clarendon residents when he was trying to settle a dispute or enforce the law. Pleasantness and a generally cheerful demeanor were the next best things in his arsenal, aside from his six-shooter.
Crane waved as he approached. His shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun. Good, he thought. Sarah will think I’m teary-eyed over her presence. Be happy. Continue with the plan to wed her. Tucker is dead, and the whole mess is behind you. You won, Crane. You won.
Sarah, and the man beside her, who Crane was certain was David Bryant, met him on the platform. They looked a little worse for the wear, their clothes covered with grim and dirt, and it appeared to have been a few weeks since David’s face saw a razor.
“Sarah,” Crane said, keeping his distance. “Is … is that you?”
Sarah smiled. “Michael? Michael Crane?”
Crane nodded, then he outstretched his arms for an embrace. Sarah hesitated for a moment, and then laughed—unconvincingly—before placing her arms awkwardly around him. Crane took note of the man David and saw that he looked uncomfortable by the embrace. Good. I don’t know who the heck this man is, but his time with Sarah has come to an end.
Breaking the embrace, Crane gently took Sarah by her shoulders. “I thought the worst had happened,” he said. “I heard everything about the stagecoach stickup. Are you okay?”
Sarah nodded. “I am, yes. It’s been a long journey. I’m just happy that it’s behind me.”
“Well, don’t you worry,” Crane said, beaming proudly. “The bandit that attacked you has been dealt with.” Tell her the fabricated story. “He was apparently shot by some of his fellow bandits. My men are out right now trying to locate the body.”
“Thank God,” Sarah said with a hand to her chest. “I was worried that man was still looking for me. Did you happen to find the woman that escaped? Her name was Samantha.”
Crane hung his head. “Yes, unfortunately,” he said with a forced sympathy. “Her body was discovered, and funeral arrangements have been made.”
Tears were now in Sarah’s eyes. “That poor woman …”
Crane waved her off. “It’s okay, now. I’m glad that you are alive.” He breathed deeply, his smile dissolving a bit as he turned his focus to David. “You must be David Bryant.” He extended his hand. “I can’t thank you enough for returning my bride-to-be. It’s been a rough few days, wondering what happened to her.”
David shook Crane’s hand. “It’s my pleasure,” he said. “I’m glad that we finally made it to Clarendon.”
Gesturing behind him, Crane said, “Well, I want to make sure you two get settled in, but I need to take a statement from each of you to settle this whole Tucker Willis thing. I need to forward it to the stagecoach company for insurance reasons and so forth.”
“I’d be glad to,” Sarah said. “It’ll be like closing out this whole chapter.”
Crane rested his hand on her lower back. “Very good,” he said. “Now, I’ll go a
head and talk to Sarah first. David—please feel free to go to the saloon across the street. I have a tab there. Put anything you want on it, and I’ll come fetch you when the time comes to take your statement.”
“Uh …” David began as he looked at Sarah, who nodded to him. “Sure. Yes, absolutely.”
Crane clapped his hands together. “Excellent.” He looked lovingly at Sarah. “Please, my dear, come with me. We’ll get this finished and then figure out, well, our next steps.” Crane guided Sarah toward the sheriff’s office. David departed for the saloon across the street and Crane noted that the two of them sought reassuring glances from each other the entire time.
***
A glass of water was placed in front of Sarah. She was seated in front of Michael Crane’s desk, having just said hello to Sheriff Stevens and accepting his condolences for her “adventure” before he departed the office. A pencil was in Crane’s hand as he jotted down the tail end of the story that Sarah had just told them about their entire journey, and though Sarah was happy to talk it all out, to recite back all the facts for her own piece of mind, she was nervous about confessing to Michael Crane her newly found love for David. She was timid about his reaction and was still pondering the notion that he might be the corrupt lawman in cahoots with Tucker Willis.
“My God!” Crane exclaimed as he placed down the pencil and sat back. “That’s a tale meant for literature. I can’t believe you managed to make it out in one piece.”
“Believe me,” Sarah said wearily, “I thought the same on more than one occasion.”
“It’s a good thing your friend was with you. I owe him an incredible debt of gratitude for getting you here.”
“Yes. David Bryant is a good man.”
“I can tell. So, what brought him to Clarendon? I’m curious.”
“David is taking possession of his uncle’s ranch.”
“Who is his uncle?”
“I’m not sure,” Sarah said. “David never mentioned his name.”
“Hmm, perhaps it’s Fletcher.” Crane snapped his fingers. “Yes, it has to be. Fletcher Bryant. I don’t know how I didn’t make the connection quicker. Yes, Fletcher Bryant was a good man. Very wise. I was saddened to hear of his passing.” Even though it was my doing. Old man shouldn’t have poked his nose where it didn’t belong. Hopefully, his nephew won’t be the same way. “Anyway, your friend certainly is inheriting quite a property. Very spacious. I’m sure your friend will be happy here in Clarendon.”
He seems to be mentioning the word “friend” a lot, Sarah noted. Sounds a bit like he’s setting the table.
“Yes,” she said, “I’m glad that David was by my side during this whole ordeal.”
Crane moved the papers aside. He was smiling in that fond, gentleman suitor kind of way. Sarah wanted to appreciate the fact that Crane was trying to dote on her—but instead, she felt uncomfortable.
“So,” he said, “what are your plans for this evening?”
Sarah grabbed her glass of water to clear her dry throat. “Well,” she said before taking a sip, “I’d like to get cleaned up, for starters, that’s certain.”
“Yes,” Crane said enthusiastically, “I can certainly help accommodating you in that regard.”
You’re getting close to telling him, she thought. The words are about to come out.
“I’ll want to rest,” she continued on. “I think I’m due for a good night’s sleep.”
Crane flashed a smile. “Well, lucky for you,” he said, “I have plenty of space in my house. It’s a quarter of a mile from here. It’s a two-story house. Quite lovely. I’ve already arranged for you to take the guest room while we get you situated. And, I’d love to have dinner with you tonight. Oh, and your friend. I owe him that much.”
This is it. You need to tell him. You need to tell him now.
Sarah took another sip of water and mustered her courage. She breathed deeply, and then she placed her hands gently in her lap. “Michael,” she said, “I’d like to discuss something with you.”
“You can discuss anything with me,” Crane said smugly. “Please, don’t ever worry about saying anything that will offend me. If we’re to be married, it should be an equal partnership. I mean,” he laughed, slapping his knee as he did so, “you’ll be the one tending to the motherly duties, when the time comes, but you understand what I’m saying.”
After hearing those words come out of his mouth—Sarah’s apprehension eased up slightly.
“Michael,” she said softly, “something happened during my journey with David Bryant.”
Crane looked at her, wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”
“Something happened with David, something I should tell you about.”
His fingers curled into a fist. “Did he harm you? Did he touch you?”
He did, Sarah thought, but I’m not going tell that to you.
“No,” she said, “it’s nothing like that.” She closed her eyes. “What I’m trying to say …” She opened her mouth, but no words came out. “My goodness, this is so difficult.”
Crane reached out and rested his hand on top of Sarah’s. “Please,” he said softly, “just tell me.”
Sarah took a moment. She pulled air into her lungs, held her head high, remained strong, and said, “I’ve fallen in love with David Bryant, Michael. It was not planned. I never foresaw the journey turning out that way. Understand, it is not my intention to upset you or cause you pain, but I love that man. I truly do. And … I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
Crane appeared frozen in place for a spell. His expression remained the same—but a hint of a fire started to shimmer in his eyes. He slowly withdrew his hand. He sat back, then he interlaced his fingers and rested them on his chest.
“You fell in love with David Bryant,” he said in a flat tone.
Sarah hesitated—and then she nodded. “I have,” she said. “Again, it was not planned.”
“And you wish to be with him? Yes?”
Sarah nodded again. “I do, Michael. And because I know I’m going against our arrangement, I plan on paying you back for all of the expenses you undertook for my trip out here, every last penny. I want to be honest with you. I want you to know how grateful I am. And I truly hope that we can still be friends when this is all over.”
One second passed. Two.
Crane perched forward in his chair. “I spent a lot of time and energy bringing you here,” he said with a sad inflection. “I worried about your safety the entire time you were missing.”
“I know, Michael,” she said. “And I’m so sorry. But again, I will make it up to you however I can.”
Crane lifted his hands. He rested his chin on top of them, elbows on his desk. He turned away, looking as though he was contemplating. “You fell in love with David,” he said, reciting it like he was reading a supply list. “You tell me you no longer wish to marry me. I dispatched several deputies to find you …” He turned and faced her, ferocity in his eyes and a scowl on his face that caused Sarah to shudder. “And,” he said, “you think that paying me back money is how you’ll make this right?”
Sarah mouth slowly opened as her skin turned pale. “Michael, I—”
Crane slammed a fist on the desk.
Sarah immediately ceased speaking.
“Now, you listen,” Crane said as he pointed at her, “and you listen good. I don’t care what happened between the two of you. In fact, I don’t care to hear about this rumor of you being pregnant, if that’s indeed the case—”
My God, Sarah thought. How does he know about that ruse David pulled on Tucker?
“—but nevertheless,” Crane continued, “our arrangement will be honored. You will marry me, and you will do so willingly.”
I can’t let him do this. I simply can’t.
“Michael,” Sarah said as she closed her eyes, “I love David. I want to be with him. I only—”
“I don’t care
,” Crane cut in viciously, “about what you want. Marrying me is your obligation, plain and simple.” He paused before his eyes went wide. “Oh, what—you think you can do whatever you want? You think that you’ll be able to go against the deal we made? Tell me, who is the law here? It’s me. What do you think will happen if you turn your back on me now? You think you’ll be able to live your little life with that fool you’ve been with? You think that everything will be all fine and dandy, and I’ll simply stand by like some kind of cast-off? Huh?”