Читать книгу Texas Lawman - Carolyn Davidson, Carolyn Davidson - Страница 8

S leeping on a chair guaranteed a miserable night. Brace had realized it before midnight, and by three in the morning he was ready to occupy the cell next door to his prisoner. The fact that she would likely rouse and be wary of his presence a few feet from where she lay kept him seated before his desk. His head finally sought the hard surface and he dozed fitfully, opening his eyes when the rising sun appeared in the window.

Yawning and stretching, he made his way to the cell where Sarah slept, curled on her side, the blanket drawn up over her shoulder, the miserable pillow tucked and rolled beneath her neck. At least she’d had a flat surface upon which to spend the night. Hard and barren of a mattress it might be, but he’d warrant the cot was a sight more comfortable than the chair he’d occupied.

His key rattled in the lock and the young woman’s eyes blinked, then opened fully, and she peered at him blankly for a moment. Then recognition kicked in and she pulled the blanket over her head. “Go away.” It wasn’t even a polite request.

He ignored the words with a grin as he stepped into the cell. “Thought you might want to take a walk,” he suggested, as if it were an option. Either she went now or in an hour or so. And unless he missed his guess, she was going to be mighty uncomfortable if she had to sit on that cot until he returned with her breakfast.

“A walk?” The blanket flew off and she swung her legs over the side, sitting upright and shaking her head as if to clear it. A yawn required covering her mouth with one hand, and then she eyed him boldly. “And where is this walk going to take me? To the gallows?” she asked sweetly. “Or haven’t you had time to get them built yet?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman dependent on my good nature,” Brace said softly. He turned from her and stepped through the cell door.

“Wait.” The single word halted his progress, and he glanced at her idly over his shoulder.

“What for? You all of a sudden decide to be polite?”

She sighed and rose, staggering a bit as she took a single step toward him. An involuntary sound passed her lips and he frowned as she gritted her teeth and shuffled her way to the door where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the accommodations?”

“Not much. The ground was softer, I think. At least I had a little grass under me.”

“Where was that?” Brace asked.

She shook her head. “Couldn’t say. Somewhere the other side of town. Under a tree, next to a creek.”

“Wallin’s Creek, probably,” he surmised. “About four miles down the train tracks and a little to the south.”

“That sounds about right.” She halted in the cell doorway and looked at the back door. “That door unlocked?”

Brace shook his head. “Nope. I’ll have to open it for you.” Easing past her, he brushed against her shoulder and she flinched from the contact. “Sorry,” he said lightly. “Didn’t mean to push you.”

She recovered quickly. “You didn’t. Just caught me off balance.” Her eyes were bright blue, he noted again, just before she lowered the lids, hiding her expression from his sight. Dark hair hung in a tumble of waves and curls over her shoulders and down her back. His gaze was drawn by the sight. He’d thought he preferred golden hair, but with a slow grin he revised his opinion.

In seconds he’d unlocked the door and opened it, waving her through. “Go ahead,” he invited, and then watched as she walked past him and down the short path to the outhouse. She was easy enough to look at, he decided, taking full advantage of the view of her rounded bottom, outlined nicely by the pants she wore. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited patiently until she reappeared.

“I’ll get you some warm water if you want to wash up while I’m gone,” he told her as she walked past him again, heading for the open cell door.

“I’d appreciate it,” she said politely. And then ruined the nicely spoken words with a glare from those brilliant eyes. “How long will it take for you to decide I’m not a threat to your community, Sheriff?”

“You in a hurry to go someplace?” He locked the cell door and stepped away from the bars.

“You know damn well I am,” she said bitterly. “You’re holding me without a valid reason, and you know it. Either charge me with a crime or let me go.”

“All right,” he said agreeably. “I’ll think of something while I go find you some breakfast.”

She settled on the edge of the cot and leaned her chin on her fist. “Don’t forget the warm water. I’d like to scrub the smell of your jailhouse off my skin.”

“Your skin smelled pretty clean to me,” he told her. “I took special note of it.”

Her glare would have melted wax, he thought, and smiled to himself as he strolled back into his office. A bucket from the closet clutched in one hand, he left the jailhouse and walked across the street to the hotel. The alley led to the kitchen door and he pushed it open and inhaled the scent of breakfast.

“You got some warm water I can use?” he asked.

Bess Casey looked up from the griddle where six round pancakes were browning and waved a hand at the reservoir attached to the side of the cookstove. “You know where it is. Same place it was last time you needed some for washin’ up.”

“It’s not for me,” he said. “I’ve got a prisoner over at the jail. I’ll need some breakfast right quick, too. And about four cups of coffee.”

“Bad night?” Bess asked with a questioning look. “You look a sight, mister.”

“Sleepin’ on a chair’ll do that to you,” he agreed.

“I suspect you’ve got a perfectly good bedroom in that house of yours,” she told him. “Why didn’t you use it?”

“My prisoner is a female,” he said, that explanation enough to make Bess nod her head.

“Good enough reason,” she said. “Does the lady want coffee, too?”

“I’ll find out,” Brace said, dipping water into his bucket. “I’ll take this to her and be right back.”

“You’ll have to wait a bit. Got four orders for breakfast lined up already,” Bess told him. “I’ll put more bacon on right away.”

He nodded and left the kitchen, the scent of hot coffee wafting behind him. If he’d brought his mug along he could have taken a cupful with him.

The storekeeper was out front, sweeping the sidewalk as if his very life depended on the cleanliness of the wide boards. “Mornin’, Sheriff Caulfield.”

Brace nodded a greeting. Mr. Metcalfe was not one of his favorite people, but he’d at least be civil. The flagpole in front of the newly built post office was still empty, but even as Brace glanced that way Titus Liberty came out the door with the spanking new flag in his arms. “Morning, Sheriff,” the gentleman said smartly. “You’re up early.”

“So are you, Titus,” he said.

“Almost time for the morning train. Got to meet it and pick up the mail.” Having graduated from a corner of the general store to a building constructed by the government for his use, Titus was proud of his position. “You expectin’ anything in the mail?” he asked Brace.

“Doubt it.” And if he was, he’d have to spend an hour deciphering it. Reading was a problem. He’d about decided to contact the new schoolteacher and see if she’d be willing to take up his lessons where the last volunteer had left off. His lips formed a straight line as he thought of the woman he’d had in his sights and spent more than a year yearning for. Faith was gone, and with her his hopes for a home and family of his own.

Honesty made him recognize that she’d never been his, but he’d had dreams. His pace had slowed crossing the road, and now he turned the handle on his office door and stepped inside. Dust motes floated in the sunlight and he left the door open, allowing the warmth to invade the interior of the building.

“Here’s your water,” he said, keeping an eye out as he approached the cell. Sarah sat on the cot, right where he’d left her, and he placed the bucket on the floor while he opened the cell door. Setting it inside, he nodded at her. “Breakfast will be here in ten minutes or so. I’m going back right now for coffee. You want some?”

She nodded and rose to walk toward him. “Thanks for the warm water,” she said, a bit grudgingly, he thought. The woman was obviously unable to ignore the manners she’d been taught in her lifetime, and he smiled his acknowledgment of her words.

“My pack was tied on behind my saddle,” she told him. “Can I have it?”

“What’s in it?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “Besides the gun.” Doggone. He’d forgotten the dratted thing last night, so besotted with the female in front of him he’d neglected his duty as a lawman.

“A change of clothes,” she told him. “Clean stockings and a few other items.”

He nodded. “I’ll get it for you, right after breakfast. Maybe Jamie will be here by then and he can walk over to the livery stable.”

Her eyes were shadowed as she met his gaze. “How long are you going to keep me here?” she asked. “My nephew is probably being carted off to the next town while we’re standing here talking. I know this isn’t important to you, but that child is my reason for living right now.”

Brace backed from the cell and locked the door. “I’ll check at the hotel and see if the fella’s still there,” he told her.

She nodded, and he thought he caught sight of the glitter of tears as she bent her head. It bothered him, touched him at his very core. Maybe because she was a woman alone—and yet it was more than that. Sarah Murphy was vulnerable, even given her possession of a gun and the small knife she carried. She was a woman—capable perhaps, but nevertheless a female, alone in a situation that threatened that essence of womanhood she possessed.

In less than an hour Brace had fed his prisoner and verified that the man she sought had checked out of the hotel, and was even now leaving town. A muscular fellow, tall and broad of shoulder, he stood in the doorway of the livery stable. Beside him was a child, a boy of about seven, Brace decided. Dark haired and slender almost to the point of being skinny, the boy shifted restlessly beside his father, and Brace could not help but stroll to where Lester Clark waited impatiently for his mount to be saddled.

“Mornin’, stranger,” Brace said mildly. “Anything I can help you with?”

A dark glance from beneath lowered brows was his reply, and then as if he’d caught sight of Brace’s badge, the man shook his head. “Just trying to get an early start. Once I get my horse I’ll be out of your way.”

“You headin’ west?” Brace asked. “The road is a pretty straight shot from here, but you’ll run into some rough spots. We’re kinda isolated here.”

“I’ll make it,” the man answered, his speech clipped and concise.

“Pa?” The boy looked at his father appealingly. “You said we was gonna look for Aunt Sarah. Is this where she is?”

The glare was a demand for silence and the boy appeared to shrivel before Brace’s eyes as he bent his head and considered the dirt at his feet. “I just wondered,” the child murmured, and was delivered a sound, open-handed blow to his shoulder for his trouble.

The narrow shoulders hunched, and a stifled sob reached Brace’s hearing. It was the opening he’d hoped for and he bent, one knee on the ground as he crouched beside the child. “You lookin’ for your aunt?” he asked quietly. And then with a quick glance at the child’s father, he continued. “Maybe I can help you find her.”

Better that this encounter take place within his jurisdiction, he decided, than on the road to Wichita Falls. If Sarah Murphy confronted this man on her own, she might not come out the winner. In fact, her chances of such a thing happening were next to nothing.

“We don’t need any help,” the stranger said. “The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But, Pa—” An upraised hand formed a fist and the boy was silent.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Brace said flatly.

“He’s my kid. I’ll do as I please.” The force of his anger reddened the man’s complexion, and his eyes shot darts of flaring rage in Brace’s direction.

“Not in my town, you won’t,” Brace told him, rising, one hand resting on the butt of his gun. He knew he presented an intimidating picture, dressed in black as was his usual custom, standing even taller and broader than the man who faced him.

“I’m leaving, Sheriff,” the stranger said, reaching for his horse’s reins as the mount was led toward him.

“That’ll be fifty cents,” Amos Montgomery said, his gaze moving quickly from one to the other of the men before him. And then he caught Brace’s eye. “Problems, Sheriff?”

Amos Montgomery was stalwart, muscular and had a body that reflected his line of work. Being a black smith seemed to go right along with running the livery stable, and Amos did both with strength and purpose. Now he allied himself with Brace in a manner that could not be mistaken.

“No, I don’t think so,” Brace said easily. “This young’un and I are going to pay a visit to the hotel and find us something to eat.”

“He’s my son,” Lester Clark said harshly. “You have no right to haul him away like this.”

“I have every right. This is my town,” Brace said, aware that he was infringing on parental rights, and found that he was uncaring as to Lester Clark’s rights, as a parent or a citizen. The man rubbed him the wrong way. Abuse of a child was about as low as a man could go. And unless Brace missed his guess, the man’s motives were not as pure as they might be. He certainly wasn’t showing any degree of love for the little boy right now, anyway.

The child’s small hand crept into Brace’s palm and nestled there, his fingers trembling as if they sought refuge. Looking upward, the lad bit his lip and then glanced with a sideways look at his father. Donning his lawman’s scowl, Brace looked at Lester Clark, daring the man to defy his edict.

“It may be your town,” the man said, “but as a citizen I have rights. Mainly as it pertains to my boy.”

“Well,” Brace said, his words slowing into a drawl, “let’s just let the doc take a look at your boy, Mr. Clark, and see if he finds any traces of abuse.”

“I can treat him any way I want to,” Lester blustered. “He belongs to me.”

“Last time I heard, it was against the law to own another human being,” Brace said in that same soft, low voice. “You can own a horse or a dog, but there’s no way you can put your brand on a child.”

“Where’s the judge in this godforsaken town?” Lester asked harshly.

Brace smiled, a feral grin that he’d been told turned him from a nice, decent gentleman into a wolfish creature who could scare the britches off the devil himself. He stood taller, his hand once more touching the butt of his gun. From beneath the brim of his black hat he cast a scornful glance at the man before him.

“The judge comes into town every two months or so,” Brace said. “He should be here in a couple of weeks. Would you like to wait for him in one of my cells?”

That the second cell was currently holding a young woman was information Lester Clark needn’t know, Brace thought. Especially since she’d just as soon shoot the man as look at him. And for a moment he wondered which of the two was the more dangerous.

“You’re not locking me up, mister,” Lester snarled. “I haven’t done anything illegal.”

“Well, don’t ruin your record now,” Brace told him. “I’m takin’ this boy to see the doc, and from there we’ll find something to eat at the hotel.”

“I’m real hungry,” the boy said softly, as if he feared his father might overhear his words. He was about as close to Brace’s leg as he could get without climbing it. The urge to snatch the child up and into his arms was almost irresistible, but Brace settled for bending to the boy, brushing a big hand over the lad’s dark hair and squeezing gently at his narrow shoulder.

“Come along, son,” he said, holding tight to the small hand that was now fisted around his index finger. With a glance over his shoulder at Amos, he sent a silent message, and the blacksmith apparently had no difficulty in deciphering it.

“I’ll keep an eye on things,” he said curtly.

Lester Clark stood in the middle of the road and watched Brace’s departure, and the venom of the glare he cast upon the man and child was almost palpable, Brace noted. The boy trotted along without complaint, and Brace looked down at him as they neared the jailhouse.

“I got somebody inside you might like to see,” he said. “Want to make a quick stop?” And without waiting for a reply, he crossed the threshold of his office. Jamie sat at the desk, his boots propped on its surface, his hat sliding down over his eyes as he dozed.

“You want to bring Miss Murphy out here?” Brace asked quietly, and then had a hard time restraining his smile as his deputy jerked to attention. His boots hit the floor and he was upright in seconds.

“Yes, sir, I can do that,” he said, glancing down at the boy who held Brace’s hand as if it were a lifeline. Snatching up the keys from the desk drawer, he hastened through the door, and in moments Brace heard the rattle of the lock, and then the squeak of the cell door opening.

“What’s going on?” Sarah Murphy’s voice held a puzzled note, and then she was there in the doorway, and the child beside him shivered and uttered his aunt’s name with a pleading sound.

“Aunt Sarah?” Poised beside Brace, the boy tugged his hand free and launched himself at his aunt with a cry of anguish. “Aunt Sarah,” he repeated, and as she bent to receive him, he reached her and clung to her. His legs circled her waist and his arms wrapped around her neck, his small face buried against her throat.

“Let me take him,” Brace offered quickly. “He’s too heavy for you.”

Sarah shot him a look that might have made a lesser man tremble. “Don’t touch him. It’s me he needs.”

Brace pushed his chair toward her instead, waving a hand at the wooden seat. Sarah settled there, rocking the child and crooning words of comfort against his dark head. For a long moment the two men were silent, then Jamie turned away, as though his emotions were caught up in the drama before him.

“Stephen. Oh, Stephen, I’ve been looking for you,” Sarah said quietly, pulling back from the boy’s grip to look into his eyes. “Are you all right?” She held him away from her, scanning his small form, her gaze snagged by a bruise on his forearm. “What happened here?” she asked.

“Nothin’,” Stephen said, as if the purple abrasion were of little account. And it probably was hardly noticeable to the lad, Brace decided, now that his aunt held him close. “Everything’s all right now, Aunt Sarah. I knew you’d find me.”

She looked up at Brace, her eyes filming with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I owe you.” And then she looked toward the doorway and beyond it to the road. “Where’s his father?”

“Over at the livery stable, trying to figure out what his options are,” Brace said. “I offered him a bed here, but he wasn’t of a mind to accept. I suspect he’s gonna stay at the hotel for a while, unless he gives up and heads on down the road. But I wouldn’t count on that, ma’am.”

“He won’t get this child from me,” she said fiercely, her grip on Stephen tightening. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep him safe.”

“Well,” Brace began, his mind working as he reached for her and eased her from the chair, “let’s go over to the hotel first off and feed this young man some breakfast.”

“It’s closer to dinnertime, isn’t it?” Sarah asked, her confusion apparent.

“Yeah, I suspect it will be by the time we make a stop at the doctor’s office, but this boy hasn’t had anything to eat today, unless I miss my guess.”

She looked down at Stephen, whose gaze traveled from one adult to the other in a bid to keep up with the conversation. “Haven’t you eaten this morning?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Pa said we was in a hurry.”

“I’ll just bet he did,” she muttered. Her face dark with anger, she lowered Stephen to the floor before her and he stood where she’d placed him, apparently willing to do whatever she bid him. “Let’s go,” she said, gripping his hand and walking to the doorway. “Lead the way, Sheriff.”

“This isn’t anything permanent, ma’am,” Brace told Sarah. They sat at the small table, watching Stephen devour a plateful of pancakes and eggs, and Brace felt more than a twinge of anger at the man who’d neglected the boy to such an extent.

“I’ll not give him up,” Sarah said firmly. She clasped her hands before her on the white tablecloth and her chin jutted forward as if she had drawn a line in the sand and dared him to step over it. “Lester is not getting his hands on him again.”

“He’s his son,” Brace said quietly. “I broke the law by taking Stephen today, if you really want to know the truth. I can keep him at arm’s length till the judge comes to town in a couple of weeks, but I doubt you’ll have a leg to stand on once we go to court and present your case.”

Sarah leaned over the table. “I don’t care what it takes, Lawman, I won’t give him up again. Did you pay attention to what the doctor uncovered in his office? Didn’t you see the bruises he wears?”

“Yeah, I saw them,” Brace said agreeably. “But the fact remains that Stephen’s place is with his parent. That’s legal and binding, no matter what you and I think about it.” He leaned back in his chair and shot a grin at the boy, whose wary gaze was once more following the adult conversation that concerned his future.

“Isn’t there any way? Legally, I mean?”

“You’re a nice lady, Sarah, but you’re a woman alone. No matter how bad the boy wants to be with you, you won’t be considered a good risk, not stacked up against a father’s claim, anyway. In fact, you’re gonna have a tough time finding a place to stay while we wait for the judge. You aren’t going to be safe here, not with your brother-in-law running around town.”

“If I leave, he’ll never find us,” she said quietly. “We can skin out of here after dark, and by morning he won’t have a trail to follow.”

Brace sighed and shook his head regretfully. “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you do that. You’re gonna have to stick around till the judge shows up. I can’t let you run off.”

“You can’t stop me,” she said harshly.

“Yeah, I can,” he said. “If I have to I can stick you back in a cell and take the boy home with me. That way I’ll know where the both of you are.”

“No.” The word was accompanied by a violent shake of her head. “Anything but that,” she whispered. “Don’t take him away from me.”

“I’m not leavin’ you, Aunt Sarah,” Stephen said stoutly, thrusting his chin forward in a fashion much like that of his aunt.

“Well, we can try something else,” Brace said, leaning back in his chair. “You could both come home with me. I’ve got a couple of extra bedrooms I never use. As a matter of fact, I rarely even use any part of the damn house. I spend a lot of nights here at my desk, or, on occasion, at the hotel instead of going all the way home.”

“Why?” she asked, confusion alive in her face. “Why don’t you stay in your house?”

“It’s lonely there,” he said simply. “And sometimes I need to be handy in case there’s trouble at one of the saloons.” His smile was sheepish and he knew it. “It’s no fun to rattle around in an empty house.”

“Will there be a problem if we stay there?” she asked. “Will you be in trouble with anybody in town if you let us move in?”

He shook his head. “I don’t see why. It’s my house, bought and paid for with hard cash. I’d think I can pretty much do whatever I want to with it, including inviting company to stay if I want to.”

“I don’t want to damage your reputation,” Sarah said softly.

“More likely that I’ll damage yours,” he answered with a slow grin. And for the first time he wondered what had possessed him to make such an offer. The woman was about as appealing as any he’d ever met. Dressed in her pants and shirt, she drew every eye, especially those of the men who’d had a hard time keeping their gazes from her as she walked from the jailhouse to the hotel. She was slender, but rounded in all the right places, and he’d probably do well to park her somewhere other than his front bedroom.

But the offer had been made, and Brace Caulfield wasn’t a man to back down once he’d made a decision. “I picked up your pack from the livery stable. I kept the gun, just in case you planned on using it.” He watched her closely, noting the wary expression she wore. “You’ll be safe with me,” he told her, and as he watched, she nodded slowly.

“I suspect I will. I found that out last night.”

“About last night,” he began, and halted when she held up a hand to silence him.

“Let’s not talk about it,” she said, glancing at Stephen. “You were within your rights, and the way things have worked out, I’m not going to complain.”

“All right.” And wasn’t that an easy resolution to the issue. He’d thought he’d have to mend fences, but apparently Miss Sarah Murphy wasn’t a woman to hold a grudge.

All in all, this might be an interesting proposition.