The Sheriff’s Tender-Hearted Bride: A Christian Historical Romance Novel

by Chloe Carley

  Whatever quarrel there was between the sheriff and Mr. Knox, or between him and the townsfolk, it was of no concern to her. Her employer had been nothing but kind to her, overly generous in fact. She wanted to pay him back for his kindness and there seemed no better way of doing so than with dinner and hospitality.

  “Well, how could we refuse such an offer, Mrs. Hale? I’m sure we’d be delighted, wouldn’t we men?” Mr. Knox said, turning to Clarence and Hector, who nodded.

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” Hector replied.

  “We’d be delighted,” Clarence said.

  “Good, well, that’s settled then,” Aline said. “Tomorrow night at seven. It’ll be something simple enough, I don’t have the skills for anything too fancy, but I promise you it’ll taste good.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will, Mrs. Hale, I’m sure it will,” Mr. Knox said, eyeing the rock bun on the side.

  What have I let myself in for? she wondered, but there was no going back now.

  ***

  The following evening, Aline was a bundle of nerves. She’d never cooked dinner before, not for a crowd, and the range was crowded with pots and pans, steaming and boiling with all manner of things to eat.

  “Oh, Sammy. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?” she worried, turning to the cat, who was sprawled out on the rug in front of the range.

  Sammy just looked at her and purred, as a pot boiled over behind her.

  What would my aunt say? And Sarah? she thought, picking up the pan, which bubbled its contents over the sides.

  “This was all supposed to be simple,” she grumbled out loud, glancing at the clock, which said six thirty.

  She’d laid the table, swept the parlor, and put fresh flowers in a vase. The plates were set out and there was wood stacked up for the range. Aline had made all the preparations she could, but the meal itself was another matter. She’d tried her hand at a seed cake, though most of it had gone to the hens and settled instead on a steamed pudding, the recipe for which she’d found in a book of household management on the shelf.

  “How long has it been steaming now?” she wondered, but of course Sammy made no reply and there was nothing more she could do but glance nervously at the clock, as seven o’clock approached.

  I just hope all this goes right, I don’t want Mr. Knox to think I’m no good as a housekeeper. He won’t want me to stay, she fretted.

  “Oh, my bread,” she cried, pulling open the door to the range, as a waft of smoke came out.

  Fortunately, the bread was baked to perfection, though that was more accident than skill. She placed it proudly upon the table and stirred the stew on top, at least that hadn’t burnt.

  Back home in Massachusetts, she’d hosted all manner of men and women to dinner. But out here it felt different. Out here, she was playing host as well as cook and it was certainly more stressful.

  As seven o’clock approached, she changed from her apron into a clean dress and made ready to welcome her guests. She’d seen Clarence and Hector out on the ranch earlier that day but there’d been no sign of Mr. Knox since coffee yesterday morning. He seemed to come and go as he pleased, which of course was his prerogative, but Aline couldn’t help but wonder what he did while he was away.

  Does he have another house somewhere? He must do. Where does he sleep? she wondered, checking herself once more in the mirror.

  It was just as she took the stew off the range that a knock came at the door.

  “Here we go, Sammy,” she said.

  With a final glance in the mirror, for though her cookery skills were dubious her appearance was always immaculate, Aline opened the door with a flourish. Standing on the veranda was Mr. Knox and behind him were Clarence and Hector. Her employer removed his hat and nodded his head to her. He was dressed immaculately and, as he stepped over the threshold, his looked around admiringly.

  “Well, well, Mrs. Hale, a very good evening to you. And might I say that you’ve done a fine job with this place. The smell…” he said, sniffing exaggeratedly, “the finest Parisian restaurant surely doesn’t smell like this.”

  Aline blushed. It was high praise indeed, though of course he was yet to taste her efforts for himself.

  “Let me take your coat, Mr. Knox. Won’t you have a seat?” she said, pointing towards the table.

  Mr. Knox handed her his coat and took a seat. He was followed by Clarence and Hector, who offered equally gushing compliments as to the aromas filling the parlor. Sammy had retreated to the back bedroom at the first sight of Mr. Knox and Aline now busied herself with the final preparations for the meal.

  “You know, this ranch truly has a new lease of life to it,” he said, as Aline began to ladle the stew into bowls. “A woman’s touch about the place, that’s what it needed.”

  “Well, I could think of many women with a better one,” Aline remarked, still hoping that the stew wouldn’t taste burnt.

  “You’re too hard on yourself, Mrs. Hale. You’ve already made your mark here and what a delicious dinner this looks,” he said, as the meal was laid before them.

  Clarence and Hector took up their spoons at once and began to eat, but Aline cleared her throat and Mr. Knox raised his hand.

  “I do like to say grace before a formal meal,” she said, and the two ranch hands sat back in embarrassment.

  “Of course, Mrs. Hale. Clarence and Hector just aren’t used to polite company,” Mr. Knox said, scowling at the two men.

  “For these and all thy bounties God’s holy name be praised, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” Aline said.

  “Amen,” Mr. Knox echoed loudly as Aline herself sat down to eat.

  “Please, do start, it’ll get cold otherwise,” she invited and the four of them tucked in.

  When Mr. Knox laid down his spoon, he gave a deep sigh of satisfaction and smacked his lips together. He’d wiped the last of his gravy with a hunk of bread and now placed his hands on his stomach and sat back with a smile on his face.

  “That was quite simply the best meal I’ve ever eaten, Mrs. Hale,” he said, and the two other men nodded their heads through mouthfuls of bread.

  “Oh, come now, Mr. Knox. You must have eaten in some of the finest restaurants in the east. You’ve been to New York City, haven’t you? I hardly think my humble stew is comparable,” Aline replied, blushing a little at the exaggerated compliments.

  “Ah, but those fancy restaurants don’t have what you have, Mrs. Hale,” he replied, and she gave him a puzzled look.

  “And what’s that?” she asked.

  “Your care. A meal cooked with care is tastier than anything cooked by a fine chef. A meal cooked because you want to, not because you’re making money out of it,” he replied, causing her to blush even further.

  “There’s still the steamed sponge pudding, I’ve some nice golden syrup for the top,” she replied, standing up and beginning to clear away the plates.

  “Now tell me, Mrs. Hale, you’ve come to know Sheriff Redmond a little, haven’t you? What do you make of him?” Mr. Knox asked.

  Aline had been dreading such a question. She’d still not fathomed out what the connection between the sheriff and Mr. Knox really was. The two had history, that much was certain, but the precise nature of it still eluded her.

  “He’s been most helpful,” she said carefully, laying the plates of steaming pudding before them, “and he’s encouraged me to be as independent as possible.”

  “Is that right?” Mr. Knox asked, taking up his spoon.

  “Actually,” she replied, blushing a little at the memory, “the other day, when he let me drive the horse and trap back here from town—I’d never driven one before, I don’t even ride, but he was patient with me.”

  “How kind of him,” Mr. Knox said, glancing at the other two.

  “It’s not bad for a city girl. I’d never even sat up front before I came here, back home I was… always taken everywhere,” she said, the thought reminding her just how different her life out in Lakestone was, compared to
that back home.

  This is home, she reminded herself. Forcing a smile, as she offered another helping of dessert.

  “You’ll be a cowgirl before you know it, Mrs. Hale,” Mr. Knox said, grinning at her.

  “Well, Sheriff Redmond has kindly offered to come out to the ranch and give me some riding lessons,” Aline replied.

  At these words, Mr. Knox seemed to lose his composure for a moment. His lips pursed and the smile left his face, as he glanced again at Clarence and Hector.

  “Oh… here? Well… isn’t that kind,” he replied, a forced smile returning to his face.

  “Is it a problem, Mr. Knox? I’m sure that we…” Aline began, but her employer just shook his head.

  “Mrs. Hale, Sheriff Redmond is a good man and there’s no better to teach you how to ride than him. There’s plenty of horses here for you to practice with and miles of empty prairie in every direction ride across. You’ll be saddle sore before you know it,” he replied, laughing and slapping his hand on his leg, as Clarence and Hector joined in.

  But Aline couldn’t forget the look on his face when his composure was lost. He seemed worried, hostile even, to the sheriff’s presence and, as she cleared away the plates, Aline couldn’t help but think there was more to this than she knew. And it worried her, given the events of her past.

  Very curious, she thought.

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d happily borrow one of the horses,” she said, returning to the table.

  “Of course it’s all right with me, Mrs. Hale, This is your home, what’s mine is yours. But tell me, I’m worried about all this business with the cattle rustling—has Sheriff Redmond made any mention to you about it?” Mr. Knox said, sitting back and folding his arms.

  Aline wondered how best to reply. Should she be frank and tell him everything the sheriff had said, or hold some of it back and feign innocence in the face of his questioning?

  I suppose he’s just worried it might happen here, she reasoned to herself, though wondering if perhaps she were being somewhat naïve.

  “He’s still looking into it, as far as I know. The mayor is clamoring for answers, but he doesn’t have any leads—at least, that’s how I understand it,” she replied, and Mr. Knox nodded.

  “Lakestone is lucky to have a man like Sheriff Redmond looking out for its best interests. I only ask because, of course, we ourselves have the ranch to think of,” he replied, glancing again at Clarence and Hector.

  “That’s right,” Clarence said, “it’s good to know that Sheriff Redmond has… everything in hand.” He gave a wry smile.

  “I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before these men are brought to justice. The mayor can wait and let the sheriff do his job,” Mr. Knox said.

  Talk turned to the ranch and Aline’s plans for life in Lakestone. It was a most convivial evening, and when Aline bid her guests good night she felt proud at having hosted such a successful dinner.

  “And why do you always hide away whenever Mr. Knox appears?” she asked Sammy, as the cat appeared from the back bedroom and wrapped himself around her legs.

  He purred as she lifted him up and carried him around the parlor over her shoulder, extinguishing the oil lamps and getting ready for bed.

  Well, at least I passed the test. He thinks I can cook and keep a tidy home, it looks like I’m staying in Lakestone, she thought as she got into bed a short while later.

  But there was still something strange about Sheriff Redmond’s dealings with her employer. Mr. Knox’s expression had said it all when she’d mentioned taking riding lessons from Thomas, and Aline was determined to find out what it was.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Sammy, whatever it is,” she whispered through the darkness. Her thoughts turned to Thomas and she hoped it wouldn’t be long before she saw him again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thomas was awoken by a loud knocking on his door. He rolled over, stretching out, as he came to his senses and sat up.

  “Who is it?” he called, for the sun was only just rising, its first rays streaming through the window.

  “It’s John. Sheriff, you need to come now. There’s been another rustling,” came the reply.

  At these words, Thomas leapt out of bed and began to pull his clothes on at double speed. His room in Lita Morrell’s boarding house was untidy, for he rarely entertained visitors, and he had to search through a pile of clothes to find anything clean to wear. After splashing water on his face and pinning on his sheriff’s badge, he opened the door to find the deputy waiting for him on the landing.

  “Well, what’s happened?” he asked as they clattered downstairs.

  “I was just about ready to make my way home when Jackson Jacques came bursting in. He was all breathless, sweating like anything…” John began.

  “You mean Mr. Jacques from Bison Gully?” Thomas wondered, and the deputy nodded.

  “He said there were three of them. They came in the night, out of nowhere. He and his wife had stayed up late—one of the children is sick or something—and he happened to glance out of the window and there they were. Well, he gave chase, but they fired off some shots and he ended up running for his life,” John said.

  There was no time for the breakfast Lita Morrell offered and soon Thomas and John were in the sheriff’s office, where a frightened Jackson Jacques recounted the story once more.

  “And you’re certain there were three of them?” Thomas asked, and the frightened rancher nodded.

  He had a graze to side of his head and his clothes were all dusty, as though he’d scrabbled about in the dirt with the outlaw’s bullets flying off above him. His brow was still clammy and he clutched nervously at the hat he held in his hands, looking around himself furtively as though he expected the outlaws to appear again at any moment.

  “Nasty business,” he said, “nasty business.”

  “Would you recognize the faces of those men?” Thomas asked, his mind turning to the number three and the faces of his half-brother, Clarence, and Hector.

  “It was dark, this was the middle of the night. I don’t even know how many cattle are gone yet. I came straight down here just as soon as it happened. Billy, that’s the ranch hand, he’s up there with my wife and the children. When are you going to get a handle on this, Sheriff?” Jackson said, and Thomas shook his head.

  “Let’s get up there, find out how many cattle you’ve lost and see if there’s any trail. My hunch is that these men are operating out of Westfort. The trail from Lakestone Creek Ranch led that way, and I’m betting it’ll be the same from Bison Gully. Come on, it’s all right. I’ll ride back with you.” Thomas placed his hand on the rancher’s shoulder.

  He looked up fearfully, the whole ordeal clearly having shot through his nerves. But he nodded, getting to his feet and sighing.

  “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but those men. They were ruthless. All I’m trying to do is earn an honest living and look after my family, then this happens,” he said, shaking his head.

  “And we’re going to find who did this, I promise you,” Thomas said, though he cast a doubtful look at John Hoskins, who looked just as uncertain.

  “I’ll hold the fort here, Sheriff. Who needs sleep…?” he said, smiling.

  “It’s all right, John, you get off and rest. There’s no point in a deputy falling asleep on the job. I’ll be all right. Come on, Mr. Jacques, the sooner we get back the easier this trail will be to find,” Thomas said.

  The two men stepped out into the early morning sunshine. Lakestone was still waking up. Mr. Ford had just opened his grocer’s shop and the veranda of the Anaconda Hotel was just being swept. Thomas glanced over towards Mayor Gould’s office, knowing that sooner or later he’d be summoned to give testimony as to his progress.

  I’ve got to find them, he thought as he climbed onto Scout’s back and made ready to ride out.

  Bison Gully was just a couple of miles in the opposite direction to Lampeter Ranch, but on the same trail toward Westfort a
s Lakestone Creek. A pattern was emerging, and Thomas was becoming more convinced that it would be Westfort where he’d find the answers he was seeking.

  But what about Harrison? Surely he’s mixed up in all of this, he wondered, following Jackson Jacques into the ranch yard.

  The operation at Bison Gully was a small one and apart from Billy, the ranch hand, Mr. Jacques lived there alone with his family. At the sound of the horse’s hoofs, Billy emerged from the house, boldly brandishing a shot gun, which he only lowered when he saw who it was that approached.

  “It’s all right, Billy, it’s just the Sheriff and I,” Mr. Jacques said, having lost some of his earlier nerves on the ride home.