“What’s happening?” Mrs. Wesley asked, frightened.
“We don’t have time, just go upstairs,” Michael commanded, “And you must keep them silent.”
“All right,” she replied and took Billy in her arms and ran up the stairs.
“I wanna see the horse, mama,” Billy screamed.
“Hush,” Mrs. Wesley pleaded with her son, who seemed to realize that there was something wrong.
“Where’s your sister?” she asked, as she had put Billy into their room with his younger sister Mary, “Where’s Sally?”
Michael stood by the window, out of sight, and peered outside. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he noticed the young girl in the kitchen, clearly visible from outside.
“Lillian,” Michael whispered, “Go to Samuel’s room and stay there.”
“But…” Lillian began.
“There’s no time,” Michael interrupted, “Go!” He commanded and pulled the curtains shut.
“Sally!” Mrs. Hammond said desperately. They could hear the approaching sound of hooves, and Michael saw that Mrs. Hammond was shaking.
“Mrs. Hammond!” Michael said determinately, “You will need to go to the door.”
“What?” Mrs. Hammond yelped.
“If this is one of Jacob’s men, then hopefully, they are coming here to remind you that they still have the children,” Michael said.
“Hopefully?” Mrs. Hammond repeated.
“Let’s not think about anything else right now,” Michael said. He tiptoed to the kitchen, trying to look outside without being seen.
“Sally!” Michael whispered. The young girl looked around, looking surprised.
“What?” Sally replied, much too loudly.
“Remember when I came to pick you up?” Michael whispered, holding eye-contact with her, “I need you to crawl to me, do you understand?”
“Uh-huh,” Sally nodded, but then the horse outside whinnied loudly, and terror-filled Sally’s face.
“Down!” Michael said, and at once, Sally jumped down, but as she jumped, a glass fell from the table, causing a loud cracking sound. She looked nervous, but Michael shook his head and kept his finger over his mouth. Sally understood and swallowed her sob. The house was electric with tension, and the knock on the door caused everyone to jump.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sound of heavy boots scraping across the small pathway towards the front door grew louder and louder. Little Sally whimpered and shook but was thankfully quiet. Michael looked over at Mrs. Hammond, and he wasn’t surprised when he realized that she was white as a sheet and terrified.
Her knuckles were white with the force with which she held her sewing, and Michael was concerned that she would faint. All of a sudden, a booming thud seemed to make the front door almost jump off its hinges, such was the force that the man knocked on the door.
BANG.
He knocked again. Sally vailed softly, but Michael realized that Mrs. Hammond would have to answer the door.
“Answer the door, Mrs. Hammond,” he whispered. Mrs. Hammond did not seem to hear him; she sat still as a statue and looked straight ahead.
“You can do it,” Michael continued, then he loosened his gun from the holster, “And I will be ready,” he added, showing her his weapon. Very slowly, she nodded her head and stood up. Just as the man was about to knock for the third time, Mrs. Hammond opened the door.
“Yes?” she answered curtly.
“Took yer time, didn’t ya?” said the man outside in a deep, menacing voice.
“I apologize,” Mrs. Hammond replied in a monotonous voice.
“Do you know why I’m here?” the man asked tauntingly.
“No, I do not,” she said simply.
“I was sent here to make sure that you or that husband of yours did not make any rash decisions,” he growled.
“We haven’t,” she replied, much too quickly.
“Is that so?” the man said, his voice still and dangerous now. He took a step closer, but to Michael’s great surprise, Mrs. Hammond stood her ground, not moving an inch.
“Yes,” she retorted.
“Then why did I see that husband of yer’s riding off towards Rust Canyon?” the man asked gleefully, tapping the front door with his rifle. Mrs. Hammond turned even paler if that was possible. Michael pulled back the hammer of his gun, ready to shoot if he had to. However, he lowered his weapon as Mrs. Hammond answered at once: “He went to fetch the doctor.”
“The doctor?” the strange man repeated, surprised, “A likely tale,” he then scoffed.
“My daughter….” Mrs. Hammond began, but stopped speaking as her voice broke with emotion, “She collapsed.”
“Aye,” the man said, sounding a little uncomfortable now.
“My husband went to fetch the doctor because we worry that she will not make it,” Mrs. Hammond sobbed, holding her hand over her mouth, muffling her low scream.
“Uhm,” the man said, taking a small step backward now.
“As if losing her husband was not enough, you must take her children as well,” she yelled angrily between her sobs.
“Well, if your husband is going to the Sheriff…” the man barked, but Mrs. Hammond interrupted.
“What Sheriff?” she scoffed, “Your lot have driven him out of town.” Michael had to bite his cheek from stopping his laughter as he stared at Mrs. Hammond in awe.
“We will know where he goes, so if you’re lying, your daughter can kiss away any hope of ever seeing her children again,” he growled, taking yet another step backward. Mrs. Hammond covered her face with her hands and kicked the door closed. They could hear the man curse outside, but after a while, he began walking away from the house. Everyone remained still until they heard hooves riding down the road, away from them.
“He’s gone,” Mrs. Hammond said in her normal voice. Michael jumped up and looked at Sally, who was cowering, face down.
“Sally,” he said gently, “It’s all right now.” Slowly she looked up, and when she saw her grandmother smiling at her widely, she sat up, looking relieved.
“That was some performance!” Michael exclaimed.
“I just hope he believed me,” Mrs. Hammond replied nervously.
“I have no doubt,” Michael laughed.
* * *
Benjamin Hopper sat in the Sheriff’s office. Suddenly, he felt as if he was taken back in time, just after Flemming senior had passed away. Then he had sat here at this cold office, feeling inadequate. He just wished he knew how he could help Michael. There had been no news since they visited Mrs. Wesley’s empty house.
Benjamin had stayed at the office from the crack of dawn until it was almost too dark to ride. He had dark circles under his eyes, which Fanny did not stop mentioning. She was bringing him both breakfast and lunch now, clearly worried he was going to starve judging by the amount of food she brought him. But she always cooked when she was nervous. And Fanny Hopper wasn’t the only one.
There was a strange feeling settling over Rust Canyon, Benjamin thought. Women walked in pairs, clutching each other’s arms tightly, and people would stop outside the Sheriff’s office and stare and point inside. They didn’t even bother to keep their voices down anymore. Endless whispers about the much too young Sheriff, how he must have cracked—not even lasting a year on the job.
It drove Benjamin mad, but he knew better than try to argue with these folks. Benjamin wasn’t sure where it had come from, but more than one of the old ladies who had known his father well had approached him and told him that it really was a shame that he had never been interested in the Sheriff’s position. There was something odd about the way they mentioned it, and it did not flatter him; it only caused him concern. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to bear this much longer.
Benjamin stood up and decided to take a short walk, as his legs were stiff from sitting behind the desk all morning. He put on his hat, made sure to lock the office, and walked up the main road. The sunshine felt good o
n his skin, and he inhaled deeply. Once all of this was over, he was determined to take his boys on a long hike.
His reverie about spending more time with nature was cut short by the sound of an approaching horse. Benjamin looked up and noticed a man dressed in black, looking severe, dismounting his horse, and walking towards him.
“Benjamin Hopper?” the man asked,
“That’s me,” Benjamin replied.
“You’re Sheriff Flemming’s assistant, correct?” he asked.
“I am,” Benjamin said curtly, “And who are you?”
“My name is Rex Rodgers,” he replied.
“Rex Rodgers,” Benjamin repeated astonished, “You’re the…”
“The bounty hunter you wrote to, yes,” Rex finished.
“You should come by my office, I mean, the Sheriff’s office,” Benjamin flustered, gesturing towards the house.
“There’s no need,” Rex replied, “I just came to inform you that the trail has gone cold.”
“What do you mean?” Benjamin asked suspiciously.
“There is no indication that the perpetrators that took young Miss Walter are still around these parts,” Rex explained.
“How can you possibly,” Benjamin spluttered.
“Listen, son,” Rex interrupted, “I’ve been much longer in this business than you have.”
“Which has what to do with anything?” Benjamin retorted angrily.
“Which means that I know when it’s time to go and chase other leads,” Rex said. This frustrated Benjamin beyond measure, but he had to contain himself lest he scream with anger.
“What other leads?” he asked after calming down a little.
“That’s not for you to know,” Rex said, looking around as if the conversation bored him.
“Then what is the purpose of this visit,” Benjamin spat.
“A professional courtesy,” Rex said with a small grin.
“That’s a laugh,” Benjamin replied.
“I’m heading up north,” Rex said, “And I must say, that it is mighty suspicious that a fair young woman goes missing, just weeks after a new, inexperienced Sheriff takes over.”
“How dare you say that!” Benjamin barked.
“I’m only saying,” Rex said, taking a step closer to him, “You shouldn’t trust anyone,” he finished reaching out his hand. Hesitantly, Benjamin shook his hand but was shocked when he felt Rex surreptitiously handed him a small note. Rex gave him a significant look and mouthed, “Not here.”
“Good day,” Rex thundered as he led his horse away and mounted it.
“Good day,” Benjamin replied, clutching the note in the palm of his hand. He hurried back to the Sheriff’s office and nearly dropped the note in his haste to unlock the door. Once inside, he walked to the far end, with his back facing the window, he opened the note. It said: Be ready at our usual place, tonight.
There was no signature, not even a letter, but Benjamin recognized that handwriting at once.
* * *
Lillian sat completely still at Samuel’s bedside, hardly daring to breathe. Since Michael had told her to leave the sitting room, her heart had been beating rapidly, and she had been silently praying the entire time. She could hear muffled voices outside, and for a moment she feared they had been caught.
The door slammed, and icy chills numbed her skin with fear. She almost screamed when she felt someone touch her wrists. She turned around and noticed that Samuel had moved his hand slightly. It seemed he had been trying to calm her down, judging by the way that he was patting his hand up and down clumsily. His eyes were still closed, but he was moving his head a fraction from side to side.
“Samuel?” Lillian whispered.
“Ughuh,” he mumbled unintelligibly.
“Rest, I beg of you,” she pleaded, “You must save your strength.” He didn’t try to speak again, and Lillian had just managed to calm her nerves from the shock of his touch when the door burst open. Lillian shrieked and cowered.
“I’m sorry,” Michael said at once, apologetically, approaching her.
“Oh, my sweet Lillian, forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It’s…” Lillian stammered, “I’ll be all right.”
“I just came to tell you that he’s gone,” Michael said seriously, then he looked at the squirming form of Samuel.
“How is he?” he added.
“He seems to be waking up,” Lillian said nervously, standing up and walking towards Michael.
“I do hope the Doctor will arrive soon.”
“Yeah, they should be here soon, if…” Michael stopped himself from finishing the sentence.
“If they weren’t caught,” Lillian finished scared.
“He will be all right, and I trust Dr. Littlefield,” Michael said reassuringly.
“How is Mrs. Hammond?” Lillian asked.
“She is one tough momma,” Michael chuckled, “You should have heard her.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she replied with a small smile.
“Will you join us in the kitchen?” Michael asked.
“I hate to leave him alone,” Lillian said, “But perhaps he should get more peace and quiet.”
“Come on,” Michael said, holding out his hand. Lillian hesitated for a moment before she took his hand. At once, warmth seemed to radiate from his palm, calming her and soothing. This felt as natural as breathing.
“Michael?” Lillian said, just before they left the room.
“Yes, Lillian?” Michael replied.
“Thank you for everything,” she said sincerely, “I thank the Lord that you were brought my way, with every breath I take.”
“Lillian I…” Michael began, moving his whole body closer to her, but someone walking through the front door caught both of their attention. At once, Michael took a step in front of her. Together they walked down the hallway, Michael shielding her. Their hands were still interlinked. They walked into the kitchen, but the two familiar voices outside made them both relax.
“Good to see you, Doctor!” Michael exclaimed as he entered the kitchen. Doctor Littlefield looked at Michael surprised, but when Lillian appeared from behind Michael, he was utterly speechless.
“ Miss Walter!” Doctor Littlefield said after a long pause, “You’re safe.”
“She is, and we will need your help to keep her safe,” Michael said seriously.
* * *
“I cannot believe it,” Doctor Littlefield said, shocked, “I simply cannot believe it.”
They sat in the kitchen, huddled around the kitchen table, and Michael had just retold what had happened, why he had left, and who was behind the kidnapping of Lillian. Mrs. Wesley had still not come downstairs again, but after Mr. Hammond arrived, he had sent his wife upstairs to stay with his daughter and grandchildren. Apparently, he wasn’t as quick to trust the good Doctor as Michael was.
“This is mad,” Doctor Littlefield sighed.
“We do not have much time, Doctor,” Michael said urgently.
“We did not bring you here to treat Mrs. Hammond.”
“You did not?” Doctor Littlefield said shrewdly.
“We need you to take a look at a man, a seriously injured man at that,” Michael said, standing up. The Doctor stood up and followed Michael down the hallway, still shaking his head in disbelief. But as soon as he saw the man sitting in the bed, all doubt left him. He hurried towards him, taking off his jacket at once, and began examining Samuel.
“What on earth happened to him?” Doctor Littlefield asked, opening his bag and taking out a stethoscope.
“This is the handiwork of the man that took Lillian,” Michael replied bitterly.
“Is it that brute, that works for Jacob?” Doctor Littlefield said thoughtfully, his brows furrowed, “What’s his name?”
“Ray Jennings,” Michael said with disgust.
“That one is a rotten apple if there ever was one,” Doctor Littlefield snarled.
“One of the maids from the ho
tel came over to my office a few weeks ago. She had a nasty bruise on her forearm, which looked suspiciously much like a handprint. She refused to tell me who it was, only wanted me to help her with a cut she had on her forehead,” Doctor Littlefield recounted.
“But I had seen that Jennings fellow swarming around her,” he continued, “I was convinced that he had been involved.”
Longing For The Tormented Sheriff (Historical Western Romance) Page 27