In the Sheriff's Protection Page 16

  “That wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “Yes, it would have.”

  “I would have still caught Hugh. He would still have been brought here to trial.”

  “But I wouldn’t have been compelled to follow.”

  “Why did you? Why did you come here?”

  Because of you. The words were almost out when she clamped her lips shut. He couldn’t know the truth. She didn’t want to know it. Yet of all the things she hadn’t wanted to know, all the things she’d refused to believe, this one wouldn’t be denied. Wouldn’t stay buried deep inside with so many others. “I already told you,” she said.

  “What if I don’t believe you?”

  Twisting just enough to see his face, his eyes that had never belittled her, never insulted her, and that weren’t now, she shook her head. “Then you can believe whatever you want.”

  “What if I said it was because you didn’t want to see Hugh go to jail?”

  Her heart sank, leaving her chest hollow and aching. Needing to disguise that, she narrowed her eyes to make it look like she’d been insulted, not hurt. “How dare you?”

  “There are a lot of things I dare.”

  There probably were, but hurting someone just because he could wasn’t his way. He wasn’t that callous or heartless.

  “Such as daring to make you see the truth,” he said.

  She already knew the truth, and had been lying about it. To everyone, including herself. She wanted Hugh found guilty and put away for his misdeeds, but she’d wanted that for years and had never done anything to make it happen. She wanted those stolen items returned to their rightful owners, which could prove impossible because she didn’t know whom they belonged to or how long they’d been in Billy’s room. The truth, the real reason she’d forced her two milk cows to walk ten miles to the neighbor’s place, borrowed all they had to loan, and hauled Billy to Oak Grove, was that she’d wanted to see Tom.

  She told herself it was to make sure his leg had healed, but that was just an excuse. He’d changed something inside her. The way he’d treated her, and Billy, had made her contemplate all the things inside her and all the things she’d wanted but thought she could never have. He’d kept telling her she was a strong woman, could do whatever she wanted to, and that was true. But no matter what she ever did, she’d still be who she was—an outlaw’s wife. That would never change. Tom wasn’t only a lawman, he was a respected man, an upright citizen, and as much as she wanted him to be her friend, wanted him to be more than that, she could never have it. Befriending her would tarnish him. Ruin all he stood for. Just as the judge had said not declaring a mistrial would do to him.

  “You were tired, Clara, tired of the life you and Billy had, and you decided to do something about it,” Tom said. “That’s why you came here. That took courage. I don’t even know how you managed it. But you did. And I’m proud of you for that.”

  “Don’t be.” Not about to take the chance he might wiggle the truth out of her, she said, “I have to go check on Billy.”

  “Well, I am proud of you, whether you want me to be or not.” He picked his hat off the bed and put it on his head. “Other people are, too. And I promised a few of them that I’d introduce them to you.”

  Taken aback, she shook her head. “What? Who?”

  He shrugged, and grinned. “Half the town, at least half, maybe more.”

  She pressed both hands to her stomach as it flipped. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Afterward, you’ll have time to check on Billy before court is called back in session.”

  Stalling simply because she had to, she said, “I need to wash my face first.”

  Tom waited patiently at the door while she washed her face with water in the porcelain pitcher and washbasin sitting on the dresser, and then checked her hair. She didn’t want to leave the room, but had to. Because if she didn’t, he’d stay here with her, and that could prove more dangerous than living with Hugh ever had been. Another kiss like he’d just given her, and she’d be begging him to become much more than her friend.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Tom said while opening the door.

  “Other than a mistrial,” she said as all the fears she’d had earlier, and some new ones, settled deep inside her.

  The dining room was full of people, and her stomach flipped again as the occupants of each table leaned closer to one another, whispering, including the two women sitting at the table with Angus. They were certainly twins, which meant they were Mary Putnam and Maggie Miller. She had no idea which was which, or which husband sitting next to them was Steve or Jackson. During the long journey to Oak Grove, she’d thought about each and every person Tom had told her about, and at one point or another, had thought about how wonderful it would be to meet them.

  It didn’t seem so wonderful now. Downright frightening was how she’d describe this moment.

  “Sheriff!” Angus shouted, waving his cane in the air. “Over here! Bring the lass over here.”

  Tom had a hold of her elbow, and gently urged her forward. “Looks like Angus saved us a seat. That’s the Millers and the Putnams sitting with him.”

  “Which is which?” she whispered in return.

  “The man with dark hair on the right is Steve Putnam. The lighter-haired one is Jackson Miller. I’m assuming their wives are the ones sitting next to them.”

  Clara was so busy staring at the table across the room, she nearly bumped into the woman with tight red curls who’d stepped in front of them.

  “Oh, that dress is perfect on you,” the woman said. “I knew it would be.”

  Clara knew this was Martha even before Tom spoke.

  “Clara, this is Martha Taylor,” he said. “Martha—”

  “I know who she is, Sheriff.” Smiling brightly, Martha continued, “You just let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I’ll return the dress—”

  “Return? Not on your life. It’s my gift to you. And you just let me know if you need anything for that adorable young Billy. I can whip something up lickety-split.” Martha stepped aside then. “I’ll let you have your lunch. Angus or the sheriff can show you where my shop is. It’s right by the barbershop that my husband, Otis, owns.” She pointed to the bald man standing at the table beside them.

  “Ma’am,” Otis said. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

  “Yours, too, Mr. Taylor.”

  Clara had no idea how she’d been able to sound so normal. She certainly didn’t feel that way.

  Others nodded at her and said hello as Tom guided her toward Angus’s table. She responded and was overly thankful that Tom hadn’t stopped to talk to anyone else.

  “Sit here, lass.” Angus pointed to the empty chair next to his, and then pointed to the one next to her chair. “Sheriff, got room for you, too.”

  “Thank you, Angus,” Tom said, taking his seat after holding hers while she sat.

  “I ordered lunch for you, too,” Angus said. “Roast beef and potatoes. Rollie will bring your plates right out.” Patting her hand, he continued, “Let me do the honors. This here is the dear lass Maggie, and that’s her husband, Jackson. Then we have Mary and her husband, Steve.”

  The others said hello, as did Clara. There wasn’t time for more because Angus was already talking again, explaining that Jackson had stolen Maggie from right beneath his nose, and how Steve kept Mary hidden for a month at his ranch so no one else could marry her.

  Both Maggie and Mary had long black hair that hung freely, and Maggie tucked several locks behind one ear as she said, “Angus, stop. You’ll frighten her away before we get a chance to talk.”

  That didn’t happen. Clara was soon so engrossed in the conversation and the occupants of her table, h
er face hurt from laughing, something she didn’t even know was possible.

  A split second later, all that happiness disappeared.

  “Sheriff, I need to talk to you before court reconvenes.”

  The man, whom she already recognized, introduced himself as the mayor, and then Angus assured Tom he’d escort her over to see Billy and have her at the courthouse in plenty of time to hear the ruling.

  As Tom walked away, Clara felt the room closing in on her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tom sat in the same chair he had every day since Hugh’s trial had started. Josiah had said he’d told the judge the truth. Tom hadn’t questioned what that truth entailed. He was better off not knowing. However, he’d be doing a whole lot better if Clara had arrived. The room was almost full, Brett had already delivered Hugh to the table, but there was no sign of Clara and Angus. Jackson and Maggie had taken seats in the row behind him, leaving the two seats between him and Steve for Clara and Angus.

  He should have escorted her over to see Billy himself. But that would have meant shirking his duties, and he couldn’t do that. No matter how twisted it left him, he couldn’t do that.

  Judge Alfords entered through the side door and Tom took another long look around the room. His gaze went past Jackson and Maggie, who were also looking, and past Steve and Mary. Steve shrugged and shook his head. Saying he didn’t see them, either.

  The room quieted and Alfords started his opening speech. Tom twisted as unobtrusively as possible, glancing toward the back of the room. Jess Radar, one of Steve’s hired hands who’d been instructed to direct Angus to the front of the room, shook his head.

  Where was she? Angus was old, dang it. Duties be damned, he should have escorted Clara himself.

  When hushed whispers started floating over the room, Tom shot his glance to the front of the room. Alfords was shuffling some papers. So were Josiah and Baldwin. Tom searched his brain, wondering what the judge had said that he’d missed, but there was nothing to remember. His mind had been elsewhere.

  “With that said...” Alfords let his gaze settle directly on Hugh.

  With what said? Tom cursed under his breath, fully infuriated with himself. He’d never not heard, not listened when a judge had been talking. Not paid full attention while in a courtroom. Even while berating himself, his gaze had gone to the back of the room.

  Alfords started talking again, and Tom forced himself to face forward and listen.

  “...fully prepared to render my decision.”

  The room went completely silent: not a soul appeared to be breathing. Tom wasn’t. His lungs were locked tight.

  “I will not be granting the motion to declare a mistrial.”

  The air in his lungs rushed out, and once again, Tom turned to the back of the room. Once again, Jess shook his head.

  Alfords waited until the room quieted down before he told Hugh to stand. Hugh refused at first, causing some commotion, which was handled quickly. The judge then started reading off the charges against Hugh, and pronouncing a guilty verdict after each charge.

  The courtroom erupted as Alfords pounded his gavel a final time. Brett took control of Hugh with ease and Chester cleared a pathway for Brett to haul the prisoner back to the jail. Tom followed as far as the door. Then, glancing left and right, he headed toward the blacksmith shop. The Blackwells lived just beyond it, and that had to be where Clara still was.

  He made it across the street and onto the boardwalk when someone stepped out from under the awning. Sliding to a stop, Tom grabbed Angus by both arms. “Where is she?”

  “I figured it was safer for us to listen outside the side door, just in case that outlaw went free.”

  That might have been a good plan, but not what he wanted to know. “Where is she?”

  Angus nodded across the street. “She just entered the hotel. Said she wants to talk to the judge.”

  Tom spun around, but Angus grabbed his arm. “Only the judge. No one else.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Figured she had her reasons.”

  * * *

  Clara turned away from the hotel’s open doorway and let out another sigh of relief. Remorse swam inside her, but she couldn’t talk to Tom, not right now. Hugh had been found guilty. She’d thank the good Lord every night for that. Every night. But that didn’t solve all her problems. In fact, Hugh was now the least of her worries.

  With little idea of what to do, she hurried toward the steps and the room she’d been assigned earlier. She had no means to pay for it, so shouldn’t be using it, but she had to have a moment to contemplate things.

  A moan or groan had her pausing on the first step. Backing down, she glanced around the corner, into the dining room. The sound came again and she entered the room, scanning it thoroughly.

  A door on the far side was slightly cracked, and the sound, which definitely sounded like someone in pain, appeared to be coming from there.

  Clara crossed the room and carefully pushed the door open wider. It appeared to be a parlor, perhaps the family residence of the owners, Rollie and his wife, Sadie. Stepping farther into the room, listening, Clara peeked around the doorway. Her heart leaped into her throat and she rushed forward.

  “Mrs. Austin? Sadie? Are you all right?”

  The tiny blonde woman was bent over, clutching her stomach. As she lifted her head, shock and fear covered her face. “Doctor!” she gasped. “Baby!”

  Clara glanced toward the door, hoping someone would walk through it. People must be on their way here. “I’ll get the doctor,” Clara said, “but let’s get you comfortable first. Is the pain subsiding? Can you walk?” It had been years since she’d given birth to Billy, but she remembered certain things.

  Sadie let out a long breath. “I think it is.” Shaking her head, she said, “It came on so fast.”

  “I know,” Clara said. “And it hurts.”

  “I didn’t expect—” Sadie sucked in another breath.

  “It’s going to be fine, but don’t hold your breath. That makes it worse.”

  Sadie nodded and breathed and nodded again. “I think it’s going away, but I—” She glanced down to the floor.

  A puddle confirmed everything. “Your water broke. Where’s your bedroom?”

  Sadie pointed to a door nearby. This edge of the parlor was behind the staircase, which was the only reason Clara had heard her. “I’ll help you in there. We’ll go slow.”

  “Sadie! Sadie!”

  “In here!” Clara called. “Hurry!”

  Rollie Austin rushed into the room a moment later, and as soon as he saw his wife, he pressed both hands to the sides of his face. The top of his head was bald, but the ring of black fuzzy hair that surrounded his head turned into muttonchops that connected to a bushy, black mustache. “Oh, my. Oh, my.”

  “We’ll need the doctor,” Clara said. “But need to get her into the bedroom first.”

  “Oh, yes, yes, hurry. Hurry,” he said, running to Sadie’s other side.

  The pain had passed, and Sadie didn’t need much help walking into the bedroom.

  As soon as they entered the room, Clara said, “I’ll go get—”

  “No.” Sadie grabbed her arm. “Please let Rollie go get the doctor.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll go get the doctor.” Rollie spun around and ran through the door, only to dash back into the room a second later. “I love you, Sadie.” He kissed his wife on the lips. “Love you so much.”

  “I love you, too,” Sadie said. “And I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Rollie raced back out the door, and Sadie said, “Will you close that, please?”

  Clara did and then wrapped an arm around Sadie. “Where’s a nightgown? We’ll get you out of this dress.”

  Sadie pointed to the dresser. “His first wife died in childbirth.
He’s so worried.”

  “You are going to be fine,” Clara said. “Just fine.”

  “I know you don’t know me, but would you mind staying with me? I don’t want Rollie seeing—”

  “Of course I’ll stay, but perhaps you’d feel more comfortable with one of the other women in town.”

  Sadie shook her head. “I’d like you to stay. I think I’ll do better with a stranger. I’d be so embarrassed to have someone I know—” Her soft words stopped as she looked at the nightgown Clara had pulled out of the drawer.

  “I understand,” Clara said. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  * * *

  Tom didn’t care if she wanted to see him or not—he had to know she was all right. Just a quick glance would be enough. He was about to step through the hotel door when Rollie ran straight into him.

  Catching Rollie before he tumbled to the ground, Tom asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Doctor. Need doctor.”

  Tom’s entire body went hard. “Why?”

  Rollie was shaking his head and trembling. “Sadie. Baby.” Both hands grasped Tom’s vest. “I’m not ready for this. Sadie’s so tiny. So sweet and shy. And tiny. So tiny.”

  Knowing the history of Rollie’s first wife and their child, both dying during childbirth, Tom said, “Calm down, Rollie. I’ll go get Doc Graham, but have you seen Clara Wilson?”

  “Who? Oh, yes, yes, she’s with Sadie. And yes, yes, go get doctor. Please. Go get doctor.”

  Other people were gathering around and Tom turned to the person right behind him. “Angus, send someone to get the doctor, and then send someone over to the saloon and bring a bottle of whiskey for Rollie. He’s going to need it.”

  Tom then ushered Rollie into the hotel and through the dining room to the door that led to the family living quarters. “Where are your boys, Rollie?”

  It wasn’t until Rollie fell onto the sofa in the parlor that he answered. With his eyes on a door that must be the bedroom, he said, “They’re at the Blackwells. I didn’t want them underfoot for Sadie while I was at the trial.”