In the Sheriff's Protection Page 15

  “Go on.”

  “With Tom there, Hugh must have decided to hide things again. He didn’t worry about the money in his saddlebags because he had a receipt for money.” Sighing, she added, “He always had receipts for the money.”

  “So after finding this—” he nodded toward the bag “—you left to come here.”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you arrive?”

  “Yesterday afternoon. I was going to go straight to the sheriff’s office, but...” She didn’t want to put Angus in jeopardy.

  “But?”

  “A man was at the train depot.”

  “I need the entire truth, Mrs. Wilson. It’s imperative and will determine my decision. What man?”

  She swallowed. “Mr. Angus O’Leary was at the train station. He explained that no one was at the sheriff’s office and invited Billy and me to come to the hotel as his guests. My son was very tired, and hungry, so I agreed. After we ate and cleaned up, both Billy and I fell asleep. When I awoke, it was late, so I decided I’d take that bag to the sheriff’s office in the morning.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I decided to take it to you instead.”

  “Why?”

  She pinched her lips together to hold back the truth, yet that was exactly what the judge needed to hear. It was hard because she hadn’t even admitted it to herself. But it was the truth. The whole truth. “Because I didn’t want to embarrass Tom. Didn’t want him to think that he had to help me.” Tears stung her eyes and her throat burned as she pushed out the words. “I’m an outlaw’s wife. I don’t deserve respect or help from a lawman.” She pressed the back of her hand to her nose as she sniffled. “I don’t deserve respect from anyone. I had to do it myself. Just like I’ve had to do everything else. That’s just how it has to be.”

  He leaned forward and patted her knee. “No, Mrs. Wilson, it’s not how it has to be. You deserve respect, and assistance. What you did took courage. More courage than a lot of men have.”

  That wasn’t true. She was a coward. Had been for years and years. “Did I ruin everything?” Swallowing a sob, but unable to hold back the tears, she asked, “Will Hugh go free?”

  “I have to know that how you presented this information wasn’t orchestrated by someone else before I can determine that.”

  “There was no one else. Just me.”

  He took her hand. “I need to know one more thing.”

  She nodded.

  “Since arriving in town, when was the first time you saw Tom Baniff or Josiah Melbourne?”

  “When I walked into the courtroom.”

  “You’re absolutely sure of that?”

  “Yes.” She held up a hand as she’d seen the witness Bella Armentrout do earlier. “I swear, Your Honor.”

  His bushy brows were pushed up again, as they had been several times while talking, and he rubbed his chin while looking at the bag beside him. “I need to keep this for the time being.”

  “I don’t ever want to see any of it again,” she said. “Ever.”

  He smiled. “I meant the bag, ma’am. I’m assuming that is yours.”

  Heat tinged her cheeks at her own ignorance. “Oh, yes, it is.”

  “I’ll see you get it back.” He wrapped his fingers around the bag’s handles. “Tom Baniff is a good man. Well respected and well liked. If I forget, he’ll make sure you get it.”

  The lump that formed in her throat this time threatened to cut her air completely off.

  Picking up the bag, the judge stood and walked to the door. There, before opening it, he said, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention one other thing. As a judge, I also grant divorces, Mrs. Wilson, and will be in town until tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I asked to speak to you and Josiah separately for a reason, and I’m sure you know that reason, Tom,” Judge Alfords said.

  Tom took his hat off as he walked into the judge’s hotel room. “Yes, I believe I do.”

  “Please, have a chair.” Alfords closed the door and waved to the table in the corner near the open window. “As you also know, I just finished speaking with Clara Wilson. Just left her room.”

  Tom sat down, and although there was no need to answer, he said, “I do.”

  “Did you know she was coming to town?”

  He’d hoped for questions he could answer honestly while leaving a few things out. That would leave more of a chance of Hugh being convicted. Since that wasn’t the case, Tom said, “Yes, I did.”

  Alfords’s face fell.

  Tom set his hat on the floor and rested both arms on the table. “I didn’t know when, but I knew she’d arrive soon.”

  “You asked her to come. To bring this evidence?” Alfords gestured toward the bag sitting on the bed.

  “No, I didn’t ask her to come, and I didn’t know about any of that.” Knowing this meeting would go quicker if he simply provided the information, Tom continued, “When I left her place, I went to Hendersonville to catch the train, but before boarding, I asked the livery to send a horse and rig out to Clara’s place. My thinking was, if she had a way to get there, she might go to Hendersonville. If not, with a rig, she could at least get to her closest neighbor without having to walk the ten miles one way.”

  Withholding how much it bothered him to leave her and Billy out there all alone, he continued, “When I arrived here, there was a telegram from the livery, saying Clara’s place had been abandoned, so the driver returned with the horse and rig. I then sent a telegram to Sheriff Puddicombe in Hendersonville and he replied saying Clara and Billy had boarded an eastbound train and he thought she was coming here. Both of those telegrams are in my office.”

  The judge laid both hands flat on the table. “I know you’d like this to get over as quickly as possible, but I have specific questions I need to ask, and will ask that you answer without providing any more information than what I request.”

  “All right,” Tom said, knowing the judge had his reasons.

  “Did you know Clara Wilson had arrived in Oak Grove prior to her walking into the courtroom this morning?” the judge asked.

  “Yes.”

  Once again, the judge appeared disappointed. “How?”

  “Angus O’Leary told me last night, said he’d put her and Billy up in his room because they’d been hungry and worn-out.”

  “Is Angus known to do such things?”

  “Yes, ask anyone in town. If there’s a passenger down on their luck, they usually get a meal and sometimes a bed, compliments of Angus.”

  “Did you go see Clara Wilson? Talk to her?”

  “No.”

  “Did you give Angus any advice as to what you thought he should tell Clara to do?”

  “No, I did not. Matter of fact, I asked him if she was here to testify and he said he didn’t know. That she hadn’t said that.” Tom laid both of his hands on the table, as if to show he wasn’t hiding anything. “In fact, Judge, I went to bed last night and woke up this morning wondering if Clara was here to testify on behalf of Hugh Wilson.”

  The judge closed his eyes briefly as a smile formed. “Thank you, Tom.” Letting out a long sigh, he said, “I hope my conversation with Josiah goes as well as this one has.”

  Tom couldn’t lie. “I do, too, Judge. I do, too.”

  * * *

  Five minutes later, Tom had the opportunity to make sure that happened, but couldn’t take it. In order for the judge to make the decision only he could make, he had to have the truth from everyone.

  “What did he ask you?” Josiah asked again. “We have to make sure our stories are the same.”

  It would be easy to tell Josiah exactly what to say, how to answer the judge’s questions, because everyone knew how Josiah could bend things to go in the way he wanted them to. He’d done it with the mail
-order brides, and in other situations.

  No, it wouldn’t be easy, because it would be wrong, and he’d fought against wrongdoings too long. Committing one would never be easy for him. “Just tell the truth and our stories will be the same,” Tom said. “That’s what the judge needs. The truth. Not calling a mistrial if there was intentional wrongdoing would damage all Alfords has done in the past and the future. He can’t wager that and neither can we.”

  “I’m not saying I won’t tell the truth,” Josiah said, puffing out his barrel chest. “I just want to make sure Hugh Wilson gets his due.”

  “And he will.” Tom had to believe that. His gaze had gone to the top of the stairs again, where Angus had entered Clara’s room. That had been before he’d met with Judge Alfords, and Angus hadn’t yet exited.

  “I hope so,” Josiah said. “Why did Alfords ask to speak to Baldwin before me?”

  “He needs to hear all sides of this before he can make his decision.” Tired of waiting, Tom slapped Josiah’s shoulder. “Just tell the truth. I’ll see you later.”

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the top in only a few seconds, and knocked on her door just as swiftly. Angus opened the door and planted a hand on Tom’s chest to stop him from entering the room. Clara sat at the window, her back to him.

  “She’s crying,” Angus whispered. “Doesn’t want me to know, but she’s crying.”

  Little made Tom nervous, and a crying woman had never bothered him before, but this woman did. Because it was Clara and he had no idea what to do for her. “Go get some lunch,” he told Angus. “I’ll stay here with her.”

  Angus gathered his cane from near the bed and headed out the door like he hadn’t eaten in years.

  Tom closed the door, and with no idea what to do next, took his hat off.

  “You can leave, too, Sheriff,” she said without turning around. “I’ll be leaving soon to go check on Billy.”

  Hugh had called him Tom a thousand times, acting as if it was the most disgusting word on earth, and it hadn’t disturbed him. Not once. Clara calling him Sheriff left a sting like no other dead center in his chest.

  “I’m not here as a sheriff,” Tom said. “I’m here as your friend.”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  “Sure you do,” he said. “There’s Mrs. Ryan.”

  “She’s my neighbor, not my friend.”

  “Well, you talk to her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I talk to you, too, but you aren’t my friend, either.”

  Not completely sure he was handling this correctly, or if he even knew how, Tom sat down on the bed. “So what would I need to do to become your friend?”

  “Nothing, because you can’t.”

  “Yes, I can. I can do anything I want.” That sounded like something Billy would say, but he didn’t regret saying it because it made Clara turn around.

  Her eyes were red and her cheeks tearstained, which made something powerful rise up inside him. He wanted to hug her again, hug her until all the pain covering her face disappeared. And stayed gone forever.

  She shook her head as a tiny smile formed and then disappeared. “I believe you can do anything you want, but I can’t. I can’t do anything. Not do it right.” She rose to her feet and threw her arms in the air as she walked past the bed. “I ruined it. Tom. I ruined everything. Everything.”

  “No, you didn’t. You provided evidence that—”

  “Has caused a mistrial.” She covered her face with both hands. “Hugh will go free.”

  He stood, and pulled her hands off her face. “We don’t know that. The judge hasn’t decided.”

  “But he will, and it’s all my fault. I should have stayed home.” Her eyes were full of sadness. “I just...I just thought of all the people you told me about, and wondered if those things I found had belonged to them.” She blinked as a tear slipped out of her eye. “I’d never done that before. Never thought about the people Hugh robbed. But I should have! I—I just never had a name or a face to put with them like I did this time.”

  Full of guilt because it was his fault that had happened this time, he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands while saying, “That wasn’t why I told you about the people here.”

  “I know.” Her voice shook, yet the sadness in her eyes had been replaced with a glint of anger or frustration. “I also know I never thought about the others because I didn’t want to know. Thought if I didn’t know, I could pretend it wasn’t happening, but it was, and pretending it wasn’t was wrong.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself, Clara.”

  “No, I’m not. I haven’t been hard enough. If you know something is wrong and you don’t fight against it, then you become part of it. And then you become stuck, stuck forever.”

  “But you did something.”

  “And it wasn’t soon enough, was it? If I’d done something before, that girl wouldn’t have been shot. That agent wouldn’t have been killed. And they aren’t the only ones.” She spun around, breaking the hold he’d had on her hands. “If I hadn’t been so selfish.”

  “Selfish? You weren’t being selfish, Clara.”

  “Yes, I was.” She walked to the window and pulled aside the curtain. “And people were hurt because of that.”

  “People were hurt because of Hugh, not you. And you weren’t being selfish. You were afraid. Afraid for you and Billy. No one would ever blame you for that.”

  “Maybe not, but they will pity me for it. Pity me for being the outlaw’s wife. I’ve seen pity before. Seen it on Uncle Walter’s face. On Donald and Karen Ryan’s faces. I even saw it on the judge’s face.”

  She sounded so sad, so sorrowful, Tom couldn’t stop himself. Nor could he think of anything else to do. He crossed the room and spun her about. “Pity’s not a bad thing. It just means people feel sorry for you.”

  “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. I don’t—I thought—Oh, it doesn’t matter!”

  She twisted, trying to break his hold, which only made him increase it. In the process of that, she ended up against him, her face looking up at him.

  There was something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite read but it made the memory of kissing her strike. That little fast kiss he’d placed on her lips before riding out had haunted him at times. Right now it made him wish it had been longer, more intense, and that he could tell her pity had not been on his mind then.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her then. And for sure shouldn’t now. She was a married woman. Kissing her wasn’t right. But damn it, at this moment, he didn’t want to worry about what was right or wrong.

  Her breath mingled with his, and she didn’t pull back or look away. An inch more and their lips would touch. Undeniable heat flooded his veins, making his pulse race, and an exhilarating bout of craving raced across his stomach.

  At this moment, he wasn’t a lawman, but a man who was totally engrossed by the woman in his arms. It was impossible to ignore the allure any longer. Her charm and beauty, as well as her strength and courage, had won him over in ways he’d never imagined.

  Slowly, deliberately, he closed the space between their lips. There was no awkwardness, just a perfect merger that made his heart leap. Her lips were incredibly soft, and sweet. So sweet. His palm cupped the back of her head as the pressure between their lips increased. Then, as if of their own accord, their lips began to move in a timeless, effortless dance.

  Kissing Clara, really kissing her, was like nothing he’d ever imagined. Who could have known what it was like to experience something this precious, this perfect?

  The end, the parting, was just as perfect. He folded both arms around her shoulders and held her tight to his chest, just savoring the connection of her body against his. Her arms, wrapped around his waist, tightened as she rested a cheek on his shoulder blade, the tip of her nose settled into
the hollow of his neck. It could have been minutes, or hours, they stood there. He truly had no idea, for time had no meaning.

  She was the first to move, lifting her head to look at him. Tom held his breath as her eyes met his, because he could see the sadness returning. And regret.

  Then her eyes shifted to his badge, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

  Like a cold front, bitter and frosty, the lawman in him returned, cynically reminding him that he was on duty. Was always on duty. She was here because of him. He’d been the one who’d ridden in to her homestead and shattered the only life she’d ever known. And was making it worse.

  Judge Alfords could grant a mistrial.

  Furthermore, there was nothing right or justifiable in his actions. About kissing her.

  She put her hands on his chest and pushed, forcing him to break his hold. Then she spun around. “You need to leave.”

  Regret washed over him with as much force as a flash flood from spring rains. “Clara, I—” He had no idea what to say.

  * * *

  She couldn’t take much more. Couldn’t take much more of anything. Though she kept trying not to look at it, not to see it, the star on his chest kept flashing before her eyes, and the bullet stuck dead center in it. A clear reminder of how her actions had almost gotten him killed. Turning to him, she pointed to her chest. “No, I.” Thudding her chest with her finger, she continued, “Me. I should have done this in the beginning. Told you to leave the moment you walked through the door of my house.”

  “You fainted the moment I walked through the door of your house.”

  Thoroughly flustered, and with a heart still racing from his kiss, she pushed him out of the way and stomped past. “You know what I mean. The first time I saw those holes in your vest, knew what you were, I should have told you to leave.”