by Emilia Loft
Pausing to collect himself, John shrugged. “We seem to have an appreciation of the land around us in common. No sense in us being enemies, is there?”
Ian shook his head, still staring. “Th-thank you, then. I may take you up on the offer.”
“I hope you will.” John placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted Azure, settling himself securely in the saddle. “Good evening, Ian.”
John swept his hat back onto his head and tipped it at Ian before nudging the mare with his feet and setting her to a slow canter.
Ian stood outside, watching them leave, until John and the Blue Roan mare disappeared around the curve leading to the cabin.
2
Chapter 2: A New Sheriff in Town
A blue-bottle fly had found its way into the cabin. It buzzed lazily around in circles over John’s bed, as spring flies seem to do. It was the buzzing that raised him from sleep, consciousness seeping in as slow as the fly’s circling above his head.
In the distance, from the direction of the Lofte’ ranch, John heard a rooster crowing in the dawn. He squinted his eyes open, focusing on the fly circling above him. Pale rays of sunlight filtered through the uncovered windows of the cabin, growing brighter as the sun peeked above the mountains. John sat up and scrubbed a hand over his whiskery face. The day stretched ahead of him, full of tasks to complete. A trip to the general store was in order, as well as his first patrol around town to get a feel for Lockwood and its citizens. Knowing he shouldn’t tarry, John rose, stretching the ache of his long train ride from his bones. He pulled at the sagging bottoms of his long, cotton underwear and shuffled out to the porch. A water pump stood just off of the porch and John filled a bowl with a few pumps of the handle. Returning to the cabin, he pulled out his shaving kit and lathered his face with soap. Deftly wielding the straight razor, he scraped the stubble off his cheeks and trimmed around his mustache. John finished and rinsed the remains of soap off his face, splashing the cold water over his hair and using an old rag to wash the sweat of the day before off his body. Satisfied, he ran a comb through his still-wet hair and turned to the clothes he’d laid out the night before.
His daily uniform would now consist of high-waisted, black canvas trousers and an ivory, long-sleeved shirt with a banded collar. Over that, he wore a simple black waistcoat; John pinned the sheriff’s badge Mikael had given him at the waistcoat’s breast, then fastened a red neckerchief around his neck to help keep the sun off his skin. He finished by buckling his gun belt around his waist and pulling on the woolen stockings, black leather boots and black canvas duster he’d invested in before making his trip West. Looking at himself in the wavy, foggy mirror mounted to the wall above his dresser, John wondered how long it would take him to look like he wasn’t just pretending to be Sheriff.
Turning to leave, John snagged his hat. It was still new, a silver-gray made of beaver fur-felt and trimmed with a black cord. The brim was just large enough to shield John’s eyes from the bright sunlight and when he wore it, he felt like a cowboy. John ran his fingers of the velvet surface of the hat and memories came rushing in of the day he’d been given it as a gift.
* * *
“When do you leave?” James’s lips were pressed into a thin line as he stared seriously at John while he leaned against the kitchen table in the tenement where they lived.
“Next week.” John answered cautiously. “I’ve got a few things to purchase before I leave.” James nodded, staying quiet.
“I’ll write.” John offered, needing to break the silence.
“It won’t be the same.” James answered wistfully.
“It can’t be the same.”
“I know.”
John wanted to cover James’s hands with his and assure him that they were fine, promise that he wouldn’t leave, kiss away the sorrow that lingered at the corners of his mouth. But he straightened his back and pushed down those emotions. What he shared here could never continue and the only solution John could see was to leave.
“I brought you a gift.”
John was broken from his reverie by James’s soft proclamation. “Pardon?”
Instead of repeating himself, James disappeared into their shared bedroom and emerged with a box. He placed it reverently in John’s arms and stepped back, looking at him expectantly.
“You shouldn’t have bought me anything.” John grumbled, his cheeks growing warm. He pulled the top off the box to reveal a silvery gray hat, just like he imagined all cowboys wore. He stroked the soft brim and let out a breathy “Oooh.”
“You have to look like a Sheriff.” James mumbled. “And it’s hot in the summer. It’ll keep the sun out of your face.”
“It’s perfect.” John turned his eyes up to James and swallowed back the lump of emotion that had formed in his throat. “Thank you.”
“The color reminds me of your eyes when you look at me in bed.” James whispered, trying one last time to lure John back to him.
John replaced the lid on the box. “I’ll think of you when I wear it.” “So you’re still going?” James’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “You know I have to.”
* * *
Mouth twisting into something between a smile and a grimace, John blinked away the sting of unshed tears as he stroked the hat’s brim once more. Sniffing loudly, he fixed the hat on his head and, taking a deep breath, swept out the door.
Azure was alert and ready in her paddock and she whickered gently at John as he entered the barn.
He let her nudge her smooth nose into his palm as she pawed at the ground.
“Ready to ride, girl?” He soothed, brushing his hand over her silky mane.
Mikael had sent over some hay and feed shortly after John had left the ranch and he now dumped a small amount of grain into her trough while draped a saddle blanket across her back and fastened the saddle securely around her middle. He waited for her to finish eating and drink some water before putting on her bridle and attaching reins. Azure followed John easily as he led her out of the paddock and into the yard. He mounted her easily and nudged her forward. She shook her head once, then cantered towards town.
* * *
John tied Azure to the post outside the sheriff’s office and sauntered down to the general store. He tipped his hat to a few citizens milling around and they greeted him with openly curious stares, their gazes drawn to the gold star at his chest.
A bell above the door tinkled as he entered the dark interior of the store. A young woman with her red hair up in a braided bun emerged from the back and smile.
“Good afternoon, sir! What can I help you with?”
“Ma’am.” John nodded a greeting. “Name’s John Jameson, I’m the new sheriff in town. Mayor Lofte told me he set up an account in my name, to get some essentials to set up my cabin?”
“Oh, of course.” The woman beamed. “I’m Sarah Sawyer. My father owns the store, but I help him with the daily running of things. Do you have a list?”
John fished out the crumpled piece of paper he’d scribbled a list of things he’d need and slid it across the counter. Sarah took it from him and soon had the counter piled with items - a lantern, oil, matches, and a cast iron skillet among the many purchases.
“Would there be a way to have these things delivered to my cabin?” John wondered as Sarah tallied up his total to apply to his account. “I’m just outside town.”
“Yes, I think we can arrange that.” Sarah smiled warmly at him. “My father has a carriage and would gladly run these by for you this evening.”
“I thank you, kindly, Miss Sawyer.” John said, returning her smile.
Sarah gazed up at him through her lashes and her smile broadened. “My father and I would be delighted to have you for dinner one of these evenings, after you’ve settled in, of course.”
John’s stomach flipped as he realized the young woman was flirting with him. He blushed to the roots of his hair and cleared his throat. “I, uh… well, that sounds just fine, ma’am.”
; “All right, I’ve got everything recorded on your account, if you’ll just sign here.” Sarah slid a receipt across the counter to John.
John scrawled his signature and offered another smile. “Thanks for your help, Miss Sawyer.”
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Sheriff Jameson.” Sarah trilled, waving as he left the store.
John walked back to the sheriff’s office, thinking about the conversation that had just taken place.
He knew he’d be expected to eventually establish a family in Lockwood. Surely it won’t be so hard.
He thought to himself. Time to fall in line and do your duty, Johnny-boy.
The weight of his choices weighed heavy on his shoulders as he returned to his office. John pulled a few rolled up maps from one of the cabinets and spread them out on his desk. He quickly planned a route around Lockwood and then returned to Azure, who was waiting for him.
“Let’s introduce ourselves to Lockwood.” He said, climbing on her back and urging her into a walk.
* * *
Ian held the letter Mikael handed him that morning. The creamy paper felt heavy and smooth beneath his fingers. His address was scrawled across the envelope in swirling penmanship. He’d waited for an answer to his last note well over a month and now he grew nervous to read it. Ian glanced up at his students, heads bent over slates as they worked quietly. He worked a finger under the flap of the envelope and peeled it open, removing the folded paper inside.
Miss Molly Hooper
Boston, Massachusetts
My dearest Ian,
I pray that this letter finds you well and thank you for your last missive. The way you paint pictures in my mind with your words is positively delightful! I can almost picture your little lake and the birds that visit you there. How I wish I was by your side to see it all myself.
My days are much the same as always, which is to say they are dull! I envy you your gender, that you are allowed to have adventures and explore the world and work! I am expected to stay inside and work on my embroidery and stay sweet for my future husband.
Regarding your confession to me, I suppose that I am meant to be shocked or scandalized. Perhaps, even, angry. The truth is, my dear Ian, I think I have always known that you have felt that way. I thank you, though, for trusting me with your secret.
I’m sure you know that it is a difficult life you’ve chosen, one that cannot be lived publicly. I am prepared to continue honoring our betrothal and our families’ agreement if you would have me. I am, after all, your friend above all else. I have no interest in being tied to a husband who expects me to be the sweet homemaker and I do not see a future for myself that includes true love. What better future is there than to live by the side of my dear friend, having adventures in the untamed West?
Do think about it, my friend. Would it be so hard to pretend fondness for me?
Yours, always,
Molly
Ian refolded the letter and closed his eyes, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He contemplated Molly’s proposal, but before he could spend any time ruminating on it, his students began to stir and murmur. Tucking the letter away for later, he rose and continued the day’s lessons.
* * *
The land surrounding Lockwood was rich with life; mountains in the distance turned to rolling hills and valleys, all covered with grass and trees. The sky stretched above in a vast, inverted bowl of clouds and vivid blue, a stark contrast to the browns and greens of the land. Lakes and rivers lay tucked away in clearings and John found the forests teeming with wildlife. He rode past a field of Bison feasting on grass and stopped to watch a pair of cranes perform a dance upon the surface of one of the lakes.
He’d ridden the length of town by early afternoon, stopping to chat with passers-by and get an idea of the sentiment in town. Most citizens seemed pleased with their new sheriff and eager to welcome him. John wondered how long that would last, but chose to accept their friendliness as a gift.
The landscape around Lockwood was dotted with farms and homesteads, sometimes separated by miles of wilderness in between. John guided Azure around rocks and outcroppings carefully, preferring to take his first day slowly and not push his steed too hard.
The late afternoon light was beginning to wane when he found he’d traveled full circle and was just outside of the Lofte’ ranch. John glanced through a copse of trees and spotted a lake as he rode by. He slowed and dismounted, leading Azure to the lake and allowing her to drink. He bent and splashed some water on his face, which felt warmed by the sun and slightly gritty from a day riding.
The snap of a branch caused him to look up and he spotted the raven-black curls of Mikael’s brother, Ian, his head bent over a small book that he was scribbling furiously at. John held his breath, not wanting to startle the man, and watched. His slim body was hunched over the notebook and his concentration was so great that he didn’t look up, even at Azure’s quiet snort as she stepped away from the lake. John studied Ian’s lanky form; he rested at the base of a tree, his black-clad legs folded under him. He’d discarded his frock coat and waistcoat nearby and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbow, revealing a slim forearm. Now he reached up and pushed an errant curl behind his ear, exposing the smooth expanse of milky skin that was his neck. John felt his chest grow warm as visions of pressing his face at that spot of Ian’s neck entered his mind. He shook his head quickly and stood up, backing away quietly. He mustn’t go down that road again. John took Azure’s reins and pulled her away, clambering back up and urging her into a trot before Ian noticed his voyeurism.
3
Chapter 3: Barn-Raising
The first couple of weeks of John’s new post as sheriff of Lockwood proved quiet, if not downright boring. He divided his days between patrols on horseback and setting up his office. He began to wonder if the tales he’d heard of the lawless West had been but fables meant to keep the meek and mild in their safe homes to the East.
He wasn’t allowed complacency for long and the first signs of trouble appeared on patrol one afternoon. The air was thick with humidity and the clouds overhead held the promise of a spring thunderstorm. John rode Azure along the ridge of land just outside the Lofte ranch, occasionally stopping to use his field glasses to survey the plains stretching out beyond the borders of Lockwood. As he swung back, he spotted a tangle of barbed wire along the fence-line of the ranch. He nudged Azure forward, dismounting when they drew close to the fence. The wire had been snipped with some sort of tool, allowing someone access to the Lofte Ranch grazing pastures. As John examined the damaged fencing, a breeze blew towards him, carrying with it the stench of something rotting and dead. He gagged as the fetid smell invaded his nose and yanked the kerchief around his neck up over the lower half of his face. Standing up, John cast a searching gaze around him until he spotted the source of the smell.
The body of one of Mikael Lofte’s pregnant cows lay in the pasture, bloated with flies. Her death wasn’t natural, but rather her stomach cut open with a sharp knife and the calf inside dragged out and left in the dirt, along with her entrails. John covered his mouth with his hand as he felt his gorge rise. His stomach attempted to expel the breakfast he’d eaten hours earlier, but he tamped it down by taking a few calming breaths downwind from the rotting corpse of the cow. After he’d calmed himself, John returned to take down any observations of the scene. He pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, along with the stub of a pencil, to make notes. He judged by the smell and state of the cow that the body had been there for at least a couple of days. Long enough for blow flies and maggots to appear, but not long enough for the carcass to become unrecognizable. John took note of the Lofte brand on the cow’s flank, the swirling H and R flowing into each other. He also noted how disturbed the dirt around the carcass was, as though there had been more than one person committing the crime. The elements of nature took care of any visible footprints and John resigned himself to not finding anything useful in h
is observations. He moved to re-mount Azure, when he spotted something among the grass near the cow. Bending over, he retrieved the burnt stub of a cigarillo, slightly crushed, from a tuft of grass. John turned it in his fingers, examining it, then tucked it into his pocket. It didn’t tell him anything about the killer’s identity, but he wouldn’t leave any piece of evidence behind.
Before he left, John made sure he pushed the cut barbed wire together in a way that might keep any cows from escaping. Then he climbed on Azure and spurred her into a fast trot towards the main house on Lofte Ranch.
* * *
“We noticed the nightly count on the cattle was off.” Mikael observed, his mouth set in a stern line. “But none of my men were able to find the missing cow.”
“I’m sorry to bring you such disturbing news.” John said.
He stood in Mikael’s library, his hat gripped loosely in one hand as he faced the oversized mahogany desk behind which Mikael sat.
“Not at all, you’re doing your job.” Mikael said. “I trust you to track down the vicious thieves who did this and bring them to justice, of course.”
“That’s what I’m here for, sir.” John said, nodding. “I just wanted to stop and let you know about it, so your men can get to fixing that damaged fence. I left the carcass out there as I couldn’t pack it out on my horse. Unfortunately, it’s too late to get any use out of it.”
“Not to worry, Sheriff Jameson. I’ll send some men out to take care of everything. Thank you for stopping by.”
As John turned to leave, Mikael stopped him. “Wait, before you go… there’s a barn-raising taking place this evening at the Thompson home. That’s several miles east of here. Dinner and dancing afterwards. I’m sure the Thompsons, as well as all of Lockwood, would enjoy seeing their new sheriff attend.
John could tell this invitation was more of a command by the mayor. He nodded after only a few seconds of contemplation. “Well, now, that sounds mighty good to me. I’ll see you this evening, then?”