by Emilia Loft
He felt her eyes bore into his back as he rode away. He shuddered, thinking that her expression told him she would sooner shoot him between the shoulder blades than say hello to him. He urged Azure to move faster, vowing to ask questions around town about the Moran family.
* * *
Ian’s prediction turned out correct. The deluge of rain began shortly before nightfall, making the ride home cold and uncomfortable once again. The rain continued all night and greeted John in the morning. The slate gray sky offered no respite from the gloom. John cleaned himself and dressed for church service in the weak light of his lantern as the sun remained covered in clouds. He rode into town and secured Azure in front of his offices before walking to the general store to meet Sarah and her father.
Lockwood was a small enough town to require only one church, a modest stone building with arched windows and a cross on the front. John sat in a pew with Sarah and her father, nervously thumbing through a hymnal. He’d never been comfortable in churches, preferring to find his faith in the earth, sky, and sea. But Sarah seemed giddy that he had agreed to attend with them and he supposed attending services was expected of any upstanding citizen.
Shortly before the sermon began, Mikael and Ian Lofte entered and walked to a pew near the front of the church. John felt his heart lift at the sight of Ian, who glanced furtively at him and aimed a small smile his way. He wore a dark suit over a white shirt and a tie the same color blue as his eyes. Mikael wore a similar suit, but with a maroon tie instead of blue. In comparison, John’s own, shabby brown suit seemed worn out and unimpressive.
Throughout the service, John and Ian exchanged quick glances. John barely heard any of the sermon and was surprised when the end of service came so quickly.
“John?” Sarah offered her elbow to John, who acted the gentleman and took it. “Shall we take our leave?”
John, hoping to greet Ian, nodded reluctantly and led Sarah out the door, her father leading the way. They stopped to converse with a few parishioners, but John found himself seated next to Sarah in the wagon all too soon, nary a glimpse of Ian to be had.
Sunday dinner with the Sawyers proved enjoyable, although John still felt distracted with thoughts of Ian and the meal he was missing at the Lofte ranch. He made stilted conversation with Sarah’s father while he forked bites of roast beef and potatoes into his mouth. Sarah contented herself to fluttering her lashes and giggling at anything John said that could be found remotely humorous. She was a sweet girl, John thought. But exhausting and tedious to talk to.
Finally the interminable meal was over and John made his excuses to go. Sarah offered to walk him back to the sheriff’s offices and John reluctantly agreed once Mr. Sawyer gave his blessing.
“I’m ever so glad you came with us today.” Sarah said, her arm entwined with John’s as they walked slowly towards John’s office. “Will you come again next week?”
“Oh… er….” John cleared his throat. “That’s mighty nice of you to ask, Miss Sawyer. However,
Mayor Lofte has asked me to dine at his ranch and I’m afraid I can’t refuse him.”
He hoped his little white lie would go undiscovered. Mikael had, after all, extended the invitation for dinner any night John wished to join them.
Sarah pouted a little. “No, I suppose you can’t. Perhaps we can go for a stroll one evening this week, then?”
“Err… perhaps.” John thought he should be eager court Sarah as she would make anyone a fine wife, but his enthusiasm was lacking. “If I can get away from work, I will pay you a call.”
Not entirely satisfied, but content to take what little he offered her, Sarah smiled sweetly at him as they arrived in front of the sheriff’s office. “Lovely! Well… good night, Sheriff Jameson. I hope I shall see you soon.”
Sarah obviously hoped for a good night kiss, but John instead smiled uncomfortably and briefly shook her hand before turning to leave. “Thank you, Miss Sawyer, for the enjoyable meal and company.”
John hunched down low in his coat, trying to avoid being soaked by the rain, as he rode away. When he looked back, he saw Sarah walking quickly towards home. He turned back to the road ahead, his mind warring with itself over what he should do… and what he wanted to do.
6
Chapter 6: The Rain Must Fall
The deluge kept John busier the following week than he’d been since taking his position in Lockwood. He lost count of how many stuck wagon wheels and horses he rescued from the mud and how many sandbags he packed along the river’s edge to guard against the inevitable flooding the townspeople expected. Every night he barely kept his eyes open as he shucked his mud-spattered clothing before falling into bed. He ignored his shoulder, which grew stiff and sore with the extra labor. The pain crept into his neck, setting his teeth on edge and darkening his mood. He left off shaving to save time and his face was now covered with bristly, golden hair.
John didn’t see Ian during the week as the heavy rains kept him from his usual patrols. He did, however, see Sarah every evening when he’d stop by the sheriff’s office to write up a daily report. She stopped in, leaving behind muffins or a plate of whatever she and her father ate for dinner. Her bright smile never faltered, even when John’s conversational skills devolved into disinterested grunts as he ate. Sarah never overstayed, only lingering long enough to make comments about the weather and to inquire about John’s health. She left the soft scent of roses behind, the flowery smell filling John’s small office until he couldn’t help but associate the smell with her coppery hair and bright-eyed smile. He wrestled with his feelings about Sarah and, moreover, his feelings about Ian. Any man in Lockwood would view Sarah as a fine prize and worthy of taking as a wife. But when he dreamed, John dreamed of dark curls and sharp cheekbones. He dreamed of thin, pale fingers on his golden skin and of the deep timbre of Ian’s voice resonating in his ears.
John was almost grateful for the distraction the rains provided and the added workload, if only because it meant he didn’t have time to focus on his conflicting thoughts and the dreams that filled his head at night.
It was while he worked on a sandbagging team near the river that John met up with Mikael Lofte near the end of the week.
“Sheriff Jameson!” Mikael rode a pale palomino stallion, its legs coated in mud up past its knees. “How fares your day?”
John set the sandbag he’d hoisted down and tipped his hat. “Mayor Lofte, good day. It’s been a rough week, but we’re managing.”
“And doing a fine job of it, too.” Mikael boomed, the tips of his mustache lifting with his broad smile. “I just came by to see if you might take Sunday dinner with us at the ranch?”
“That’s very kind of you, sir. I’d be right pleased to join you.” John grinned. “I thank you for asking.”
“The invitation is always extended, but I thought you might need encouragement to take me up on the offer.” Mikael replied, picking up his reins. “We’ll see you on Sunday, then.”
John felt buoyed with renewed energy at the thought of seeing Ian on Sunday. As he continued his work, the sandbags felt lighter and he barely felt the rain.
* * *
The lightness of his mood didn’t last. On Saturday he was called to the Lofte ranch by one of the men who worked for Mikael. This time, the bodies of the mutilated cows were missing and only three heads were left along a creek that bordered one of Mikael’s pastures. The heads had been balanced on rusty railroad spikes that were driven into the ground. The heavy rain washed away all evidence that could have been left and John cursed in frustration. He bade the men to put one of the heads in a sack and see if Mikael’s veterinarian could tell him anything about the circumstances of the cow’s death.
Before he left, John stopped the two ranch hands who helped him. “Tell me, do you two know anything of the Moran homestead? The one with the old farmhouse?”
The men exchanged looks with each other and the older of the two - Frank - grumbled an answer. “Sebastian Moran use
d to work for Mayor Lofte. We caught him stealing from the coffers and he was let go. I don’t know what he’s doing now, but I think he and his wife own the homestead. His brother lives with him, too, I believe.”
“Do you think he’d do something like this?” John swept his hand to indicate the mutilations.
“He were a quiet man.” Percy, the younger ranch hand, said. “But I didn’t like how he sometimes watched us. Something about him weren’t right.”
“Seems as though he might have reason to wish ill on the Lofte ranch.” John observed. “But I have to catch him in the act. Thank you both for helping. May I call on you for assistance again, should the occasion arise?”
Both Frank and Percy nodded eagerly at the prospect of helping the local sheriff and then took their leave. John rubbed at his beard and began his planning to catch Moran and his brother at their dark deed. But first, he thought, the infernal rain would have to stop.
* * *
Miss Molly Hooper
Boston, Massachusetts
My dearest Ian,
How my heart ached for you when I read of Mikael giving away Azure! Surely another horse would have suited the sheriff just as well? I swear, Ian, when I am in Lockwood, your brother and I will have words about his treatment of you. There is nothing wrong with you, my dear friend, and you know it! Do not let your brother’s worries cloud your mind. Stick with your drawing and your teaching. Do you still play the fiddle? I miss listening to your compositions while I’m at my needlework.
Mama has begun prodding me about our wedding. I am now forced to sit through endless fittings for the dress she’s sewing for me. If I had my way, I’d wear trousers just like yours and we’d get married by your lake sometime in the summer. But of course, that wouldn’t do for a lady.
Have you learned anything more of your sheriff? You did not write much of him, but I know you far too well, Ian, to not know that he’s caught your eye. Take care that you don’t give your heart to someone unwilling - I would hate to see my friend hurt.
Spring in Boston is as crowded and dirty as you surely remember. If I can escape mama’s endless wedding torments, I’m going to drag Sally down to watch the Beaneaters play at South End. Stop making that face - I can see it all the way through this letter! It will be my last season to watch them play as I doubt I’ll find much baseball in Lockwood, will I?
Take care, Ian, and write me more of your sheriff and whether he’s let you visit Azure or not.
Yours, always,
Molly.
* * *
The rains slowed by Sunday to a listless drizzle. John woke to a fire in his shoulder and neck, the pain nearly enough to make him cry out. He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed liniment into the ache until he could finally move his arm without gritting his teeth and hissing each time. He decided to skip Sunday services that morning, hoping the townspeople would understand after his long week of work.
Instead, he took his time getting ready for Sunday dinner at the Lofte ranch. He thought of trying a bath in the spare horse trough in the barn, but even at the thought of packing that many buckets of water across the yard made his shoulder twinge. Instead, he stripped down and poured cold water from the pump over himself, scrubbing away the week of sweat and dirt with a hard puck of lye soap. Shivering, he dried himself off with some flour sacks and pulled on his Sunday clothes. His shoulder wouldn’t allow for a full shave, so instead he trimmed his beard to make it as neat as possible. He wore a gray pin-striped shirt with a banded collar and high-waisted riding pants in a dark gray. He added a burgundy shawl collared vest since this would be Sunday dinner and tugged on a pair of black cowboy boots with silver stitching.
He checked the time on the pocket watch he’d started carrying and shrugged on his duster.
Grabbing his hat, he went to the barn to put on Azure’s saddle.
After much grunting and cursing as his shoulder protested the lifting and tightening of the saddle, John was ready to head to the ranch. He climbed on Azure and clicked his tongue, coaxing her into motion.
* * *
The dinner table at the ranch was a great deal more crowded than the last time John had dined with them. Several of Mikael’s ranch hands - including Percy and Frank - sat at the table, along with Mrs. Hudson, Mikael’s man Jennings, Mikael himself, and Ian. John nodded in greeting as Ian caught his eyes, flashing a small smile his direction.
“I apologize for my lateness.” John said, taking the seat offered to him across from Mikael. “But I thank you for hosting me.”
“Not at all!” Mikael replied, smiling. “We’ve only just sat down.”
Dinner was buttermilk fried chicken, hot, crispy, and oozing with juices when John bit into a piece. Fresh corn, scalloped potatoes, and crusty rolls with fresh-churned butter accompanied the meal, followed by several homemade pies. John ate his fill while he made polite conversation with Mikael and the ranch hands. His eyes darted to Ian several times during the meal, but the young man kept his head down as he pushed his food around on his plate with his utensils.
“My men told me of the nasty business with my cattle yesterday, Sheriff.” Mikael said, dabbing at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “They say you suspect one of my former hands?”
“I do.” John said, nodding. “I ran across the old Moran homestead on my patrol and I got an odd feeling from Moran’s wife. As if they might have something to hide.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear Moran might be behind this.”
“I’ve got to catch him in the act, of course. Would you object to my camping out near your paddocks when the rain clears? They’re working at night and it will be the only way I can catch them red-handed.”
“Of course, you must do your job! Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to ask Frank and Percy to help. I don’t know if Moran is working alone or with someone, so I may need a bit of strength.”
“Frank, Percy, do you object?”
Both of the ranch hands shook their heads and insisted they were eager to help. John promised to arrange a night time observation as soon as the ground dried enough.
“Well, now that business is out of the way, perhaps my brother might entertain us with some music?” Mikael cast a questioning gaze on Ian, who sunk into his chair and tried to ignore his brother’s request.
“Ian?” Mikael persisted.
Ian sighed irritably and nodded, pushing back his chair and exiting the dining room, only to return a moment later with his fiddle case. He pulled out the instrument and lifted it, casting a questioning glance over the table.
“Oh, do The Girl I Left Behind Me!” Percy called out. “I like that ‘un!”
Ian nodded and a lilting tune on the fiddle. After a few moments, Percy and the other ranch hands began singing along.
“All the dames of France are fond and free
And Flemish lips are really willing
Very soft the maids of Italy
And Spanish eyes are so thrilling
Still, although I bask beneath their smile,
Their charms will fail to bind me
And my heart falls back to Erin’s isle
To the girl I left behind me.”
Ian played the song through once more at Percy’s urging, then moved on to play renditions of Shenandoah and The Yellow Rose of Texas. Finally, Mikael held up a hand to stop his playing.
“Thank you, brother mine.” He said as Ian packed the fiddle back into its case. “I think it’s time for evening chores, men.”
As the hands rose to leave, there was a commotion at the front door and Sarah Sawyer came bolting into the dining room, her face stricken. Her eyes found John and she moved to him.
“Oh, Sheriff Jameson! You must come quickly! My nephew, Gordy, just rode in to tell us about
flash flooding near Huntley. It took out the bridge there before my sister and her husband could
cross with their other
children. You have to help, my sister’s with child and it’s almost her time!”
John got up, fetching his coat and hat. Mikael ordered three of his hands to go with him and they hurriedly saddled horses. As John mounted Azure, he glimpsed Ian hovering at the edge of their group.
“I want to help.” Ian said, when John caught his eye. “I’m good with children, of course. Surely you could use my help?”
John nodded, “Saddle a horse, then.”
Ian pulled a face. “I… don’t ride. Not by myself.”
John considered Ian for a moment, calculating whether the young man would be a help or a hindrance. But seeing his hopeful, pleading face convinced him and he scooted back on Azure, extending a hand towards Ian.
“Boost yourself up using the stirrups.” He commanded.
Ian did as he was told, awkwardly clambering in front of John. He settled in the saddle, his back pressed against John, who reached around Ian’s waist and took the reins.
“All right?” He said, his lips close to Ian’s ear.
Ian swallowed and nodded. John signaled his group to go and they all took off at a gallop.
* * *
The Huntley bridge was a twenty minute ride on a galloping horse, but the flooding increased that time to forty. The bridge had been swept away in a torrent of water that surged past the river’s edge, turning the surrounding land into a mire of mud and water. John could see Sarah’s family across the river, their wagon a distance away from the edge of the river to avoid destruction by the forces of nature. A heavily pregnant woman with Sarah’s coppery hair sat in the wagon, her face screwed up in pain. Four children under the age of ten stood near their father, who paced back and forth, shooting worried glances at his wife and the raging river.
John assessed the river quickly and pointed to a spot further down. “The water isn’t as strong there, the flood is easing up. We might be able to get to them that way.”
They signaled to Sarah’s family to move to the point in the river where the water was more calm. John instructed Mikael’s men to secure a rope to one of the rocks and then hold it while John tied it tightly around his waist. Ian, having gotten off Azure, looked nervous.