Longing For The Tormented Sheriff (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “What’s the matter?” Lillian asked gently, “You don’t have to tell me anything you do not wish to divulge.”

  “No, you should know,” Isabella said, pulling herself together.

  “They… These men,” Isabella began, “They took my children.”

  “What?” Lillian exclaimed, “How terrible!”

  “I was fleeing, but I was ambushed,” Isabella continued, “And they took my children,” she wiped her tears away.

  “If Michael hadn’t been looking for you, if he hadn’t been so very determined to find you, no matter what, I worry that I would have lost them… for good,” she sobbed.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Lillian said, pulling the other woman towards her in a tight embrace, “You must have been so scared.”

  “I was,” Isabella cried, but reluctantly pulled herself from Lillian.

  “But, I am so very sorry for what happened to you,” Isabella said miserably.

  “You don’t need to pity me,” Lillian said, trying to reassure her, but Isabella shook her head.

  “It’s my fault that they took you,” she said angrily.

  “I don’t believe that,” Lillian said confidently.

  “I tried to warn you, but I didn’t dare to,” Isabella couldn’t look at Lillian anymore, “I was a coward, and they took you.”

  “Stop that, Isabella,” Lillian said determinately, “My uncle is behind all of this, and he was never going to let me be free.”

  “Your uncle?” Isabella said, turning around to face Lillian again, “Mr. Frazier?”

  “Yes,” Lillian replied sadly, “He betrayed my whole family, and I think it is good that you didn’t manage to warn me.”

  “Why do you say that?” Isabella said, shocked.

  “Well, because from what I have heard about my uncle, he is ruthless and has committed terrible crimes,” Lillian continued, “And if they would have found out that you warned me, possibly helping me to escape, I dread to think what would have happened to you or your lovely children.”

  “I still feel guilty,” Isabella said after a long pause.

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” Lillian said, smiling at Sally, who had tentatively approached the two women. By the worried expression on the little girl’s face, she had apparently been listening.

  “Thank you,” she added to Sally.

  “You are right,” Isabella said, sitting down and pulling Sally towards her and hugging her.

  “The bath is ready, Miss Walter,” Mrs. Hammond said, walking down the stairs. Lillian took a large sip of water and soon another until she had completely finished it.

  “Wow, you were really thirsty,” young Sally giggled.

  “I was,” Lillian said, “But right now, I cannot think of anything as wonderful as a warm bath,” she smiled and gingerly stood up. Isabella offered Lillian her arm, and together they walked up the stairs.

  * * *

  Michael observed Mr. Hammond and Rex riding down the road and turned slowly around. Being still and letting others do the work was uncomfortable, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to ride for a minute longer. Before he entered the house, he looked into the stable where Samuel lay, still sleeping.

  They would need to get Doctor Littlefield over here to take a look at him, but he wasn’t sure how they could do that and remain unscrupulous. Once Michael had made sure that Samuel was, in fact, still breathing, he slowly sauntered towards the house. When he entered, there didn’t seem to be anybody around.

  “Hello?” Michael called.

  “Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Hammond said, appearing from the kitchen.

  “ Miss Walter is upstairs,” she added, noticing the look on his face, “You should sit down. I will give you a cup of coffee.”

  Michael followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table. His arm was beginning to sting him a little, and he grunted, annoyed when he tried to move his arm forward.

  “You are hurt,” Mrs. Hammond stated, as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

  “It’s nothing more than a flesh wound,” Michael dismissed.

  “Well, you should nevertheless allow me to take a look at it,” Mrs. Hammond said sternly. Michael couldn’t help himself from chuckling. She spoke with authority, but her words were filled with motherly warmth and concern.

  “Thank you,” he finally said, enjoying every sip of the coffee.

  “You certainly have influenced our Billy,” Mrs. Hammond smiled as she sat opposite Michael, clutching her own mug of coffee.

  “Is that so?” Michael chuckled.

  “He has not stopped talking about you since the moment he woke up,” Mrs. Hammond said, looking to her right, where a curly head could be seen shaking with giggles.

  “He wants to be a sheriff, he does,” she added loudly, and at her words, Billy stood up from where he had been hiding, with a wide grin plastered on his face.

  “There’s the young sheriff,” Michael said with a wink.

  “I’m gonna be just like you,” Billy said eagerly, “Ride on my horse and catch all the bad guys.” He mimicked a gun and began running around the kitchen, firing at invincible bad-guys.

  “Now go upstairs and help your mother.” Mrs. Hammond ruffled her grandson’s hair playfully.

  “All right, grandma,” Billy grinned and leaped from the room.

  “He certainly seems to have recovered from his ordeal,” Michael said, observing the boy running up the stairs, tripping, and then running again.

  “He is too young to really know what happened,” Mrs. Hammond said, her smile faltering, “But my sweet Sally, she woke up every hour screaming, terrified the men were coming to take them away again.”

  “We are going to make them pay,” Michael said seriously, “You mark my word.”

  “I believe you,” Mrs. Hammond replied with a small nod, “After what you have done for our family, we will never be able to repay you.”

  “There is no need for anything of that sort,” Michael dismissed.

  “You should at least allow me to take a look at your arm,” she added, standing up to fetch a small basket with her medical supplies.

  “Sure,” Michael said and stood up to take off his shirt. The sleeve clung uncomfortably to his wound, and once he ripped it free, it began bleeding again.

  “Here, allow me,” she said, taking a clean cloth and pressing over the wound. Slowly she cleaned the wound, taking great care in keeping pressure on the wound. Finally, she applied a yellow-looking ointment, which made Michael hiss with pain.

  “What is that?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “It a remedy for wounds, which my great-grandmother made,” Mrs. Hammond said, and she began covering the wound with a white cotton cloth.

  “It works wonders, but does hurt like the dickens,” she chuckled, “You are done.”

  “Thank you,” Michael said, standing up.

  “Let me fetch you another shirt,” she said, taking his filthy one with her, “We should simply burn this one.”

  “I don’t mind,” Michael replied.

  “Well, I do,” Mrs. Hammond said and walked to the back room, behind the kitchen. After a short while, she returned with a clean white shirt and handed it to him.

  “It’s the least we can do,” she said with a smile.

  “Thank you again, Mrs. Hammond,” Michael said, but suddenly had an idea, “I think there is something else you could do.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “In your stable is a young man, very badly injured,” Michael began, “He is one of the captors that took Lillian; however, he tried to help her. Lillian begged me to bring him along. We are going to see if we can have him help us, but he is in bad shape.”

  Mrs. Hammond looked at Michael for a while, thoughtfully. Finally, she said, “ Miss Walter trusts him?”

  “Yes,” Michael replied simply.

  “I will take a look at him,” Mrs. Hammond said.

 
* * *

  Lillian relaxed in the warm water, allowing the stress and pain of the past days to ease from her aching body. The warm water felt wonderful, but it did magnify her injuries. She observed her red and chaffed wrists, and as she looked down her legs, she noticed many bruises and small cuts from her time in that horrible warehouse.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t stand being in the water anymore. She stood up from the grandiose bathtub and put on the robe Isabella had left for her. She sat on the bathtub ledge and tried to suffocate the feeling of panic and dread that had washed over her like a dark cloud on a sunny day. Lillian felt unsteady, and she grabbed the bathtub ledge for support. She hardly heard the soft knock on the bathroom door.

  “Lillian?” she heard Isabella calling softly.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yes,” Lillian replied softly, not sure if Isabella had even heard her. The door opened slowly, and Isabella entered, carrying a folded dress in her arms.

  “I brought you some clothes,” Isabella said, but when she saw Lillian, she put away the clothes and hurried toward her.

  “Come on now,” she said consolingly, “Let’s get you dressed.”

  “Yeah,” Lillian said softly, standing up. Isabella helped her get dressed, and once she began buttoning up the dress, she took a look at Lillian’s wrists.

  “Oh, dear,” Isabella sighed, “Allow me to mend these.” The two women walked from the bathroom, towards a room at the far end of the hallway. Isabella opened the room and guided Lillian to sit down on the bed.

  “You poor thing,” she said, “Let me fetch mother’s medicine basket. I will return in a short while.”

  Isabella left the room, and Lillian could hear her children following their mother, asking loud questions about the pretty woman with the torn dress. Lillian chuckled and stood up to look at herself in the mirror. The dress Isabella had given her was a plain, but a pretty everyday dress, cream-colored, with lace trim at the neck and near the sleeves.

  She observed herself in the mirror, noting how tired she looked and how very pale her complexion was. Nevertheless, her cheeks had a tinge of pink, and her eyes were wide awake. She had survived, and being here at the Hammond house was energizing her, slowly but surely.

  Lillian missed her mother an awful lot. Dorothy must be worried out of her mind. And to think that Jacob would no doubt be right there at her side, comforting her as he did after father died, Lillian thought bitterly. She looked again at her reflection and noticed that her eyes had a glint in them, and she felt a sense of rage that drove away all fear.

  “I’m back…” Isabella said as she re-entered the room, but she looked surprised to see Lillian standing in front of the mirror.

  “Are you all right?” she asked tentatively.

  “I will be,” Lillian replied slowly.

  “You look different,” Isabella pointed out as they sat down on the bed, and Isabella rummaged through the basket, finally taking out a small jar with yellow ointment.

  “I was feeling very unsure and powerless before, but something shifted inside me,” Lillian said. Isabella listened and began to apply the cream on her sore wrists slowly.

  “I thought about my mother, and I realized that I will need to be strong—for her.”

  “You really are amazing,” Isabella said in awe, rolling the cotton cloth around Lillian’s wrists, “To come out of a hellish experience like the one you went through, stronger than before.”

  “I never felt truly alone, while I was there,” Lillian reflected.

  “Well, I admire you,” Isabella chuckled, “And now I think you should come and have something to eat. My mother hinted strongly before that a certain sheriff was pacing back and forth, restless to see you,” she smiled.

  * * *

  Lillian walked down the stairs, feeling more like herself. Isabella had given her a brush, and for the first time in days, Lillian combed through her light locks, enjoying the normalcy she felt with this simple task. Although the dress was old-fashioned, it fit her nicely, and the skirt moved back and forth in every step, making her think of dancing. Once she entered the kitchen, she noticed Michael. He stood by the kitchen window and was looking outside, waiting for someone.

  “Hello,” Lillian said softly and grinned as Michael turned around so fast he nearly tripped.

  “Wow!” Michael gazing at her in awe.

  “You look… beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Lillian smiled shyly.

  “I see I wasn’t the only one who got new clothes,” she said, pointing to his shirt.

  “Mrs. Hammond insisted,” Michael said, slowly walking towards her.

  “They really are a sweet family,” Lillian replied, her heart beating fast. Michael looked at her wrists and took her right hand in his. A rush of warmth flowed through her when they touched, and she could hardly breathe as he pulled her towards him, and ever so gently stroked over the bandages. He brought her palm to his lips and kissed it gently. He then repeated the same action with her left hand.

  “I’m sorry you were hurt,” he whispered.

  “I will heal,” Lillian replied softly.

  “I will make them pay for what they did to you,” Michael said fiercely, and Lillian shuddered at the intensity of his words.

  “Oh, Michael.” Lillian trembled and slowly they moved even closer. But before their lips could meet, Mrs. Hammond came bustling into the kitchen.

  “You’re down, how wonderful,” Mrs. Hammond said happily, seemingly unaware of the situation she had just walked into.

  “Thank you for everything,” Lillian said, taking a small step away from Michael.

  “My dear, I’m just so happy that you are safe,” Mrs. Hammond smiled, “Please sit down, there’s pie. I just came back inside to fetch hot water for young Samuel.”

  “How is he?” Lillian asked.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” she dismissed kindly, smiling as her daughter and grandchildren entered the kitchen, “Bella dear, do finish setting the table.”

  “Of course, mother,” Mrs. Wesley smiled, and Mrs. Hammond left the kitchen carrying a basin full of hot water.

  Lillian sat down, but Michael hurried to the window, “They’re back,” he said, and opened the back door next to the stove. Lillian stood up nervously and was about to follow him when Mrs. Wesley stopped her.

  “Please, dear, you should not overexert yourself,” she said concernedly.

  “Will you look?” Lillian asked her timidly.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Wesley said, moving to the kitchen window. Outside Rex and Mr. Hammond were riding up the farmyard, and on the back of Rex’s horse lay a man, bound and gagged.

  “Oh, my.”

  “Did they bring him here?” Lillian asked nervously, “Did they bring Ray Jennings here?”

  * * *

  Michael hurried towards the two men, his blood pulsing. Ray looked pitiful, laying there like a sack of potatoes.

  “How did it go?” Michael asked.

  “Not too bad,” Rex chuckled, “This one over here tried to escape.”

  “Is that so?” Michael said.

  “Yup,” Rex dismounted and looked with disgust at Ray, “He had somehow managed to untie his hands and had pulled himself out of the room he had been in.”

  “But we caught him, now didn’t we,” Mr. Hammond said to Ray with a sneer.

  “Good job,” Michael replied.

  “We should move this scum to the pigsty, cause that’s where he belongs,” Mr. Hammond said with a wide grin.

  “I have no issue with that,” Rex agreed. Together, he and Michael carried Ray to the small, smelly pigsty that was just behind the stable.

  “If I had it my way, we would throw him into a river,” Mr. Hammond spat, “But Rex here has said that he should pay for his crimes.”

  “I have to agree with Rex here,” Michael said, “Although I do agree that his neck deserves nothing but the noose, in my opinion.”

  “Let’s leave him here,” M
r. Hammond said, closing the door and bolted it with a heavy iron rod.

  “That’s quite a lock,” Michael said.

  “We used to have a hog that tried to kick down the door every night,” Mr. Hammond explained.

  “It is hog and scum proof,” he added with a laugh, and together they returned to the house.