Loving the Lawman (Roses of Ridgeway) (9 page)

She coughed, a rattling sound from deep within her petite frame. Then a string of words tumbled out in a rush.

Noah's brow furrowed. "What is she saying?"

Doc Wilkins shrugged. "I don't know.
I haven't been able to make any sense of it
."

Noah nodded. Doc was a skilled physician, but he was also getting on in years; his hearing wasn't the best. Noah looked to Janice, hoping she would speak again, and he could make out what she said.

Her eyes remained shut. She spoke again, and he understood her clearly. "Don't be so rough on her, Joe. Save some for me!" As the words left her, she writhed on the bed, as if fighting off some unseen assailant. Her legs kicking and her hips twisting, she clawed at the thin sheet covering her.

"That's it." The old doctor covered his mouth with a hand. "Sweet Lord in heaven."

Her private horror seemed to pass for a moment, and she stilled. The next sound that came from Janice's mouth was a deep, heavy sob.

As she wept quietly, her eyes still closed, Noah felt his chest tighten. He knew the Christian tenets stressed forgiveness and mercy, but as he looked upon his neighbor, suffering from so much inner turmoil, he could muster neither for the people who had done this to her. His jaw in a hard set, he rose from his chair. "Thanks for calling me around, Doc." Part of him wanted to rush out, because it was so difficult seeing Miss Smart this way, but he paused. "Do you think she'll ever be herself again?"

"Physically, her wounds are healing. As for her mind, there's no way to tell." Doc Wilkins looked up at him, his expression grim.  “I've wired a psychiatrist over in Stockton. He'll arrive in town in the next few days ."

He nodded, then left the way he'd come in, snatching his hat from the rack on his way out.

Even though she didn't know it, Janice had just confirmed his suspicions.

Bud Bitters' gang was responsible for all the chaos that had befallen his town, and they were going to pay with their lives.

Wiping the back of her hand over her brow, Valerie set her paintbrush down in the empty can.  Looking over her work, she felt quite pleased with herself. It was Thursday evening, just past seven, and she and the remaining members of the Ladies' Society had gathered in the old millinery shop to help Lilly make the final touches for the opening of her new dress shop. Behind her, Lilly, Prissy, and Prudence were busy with various tasks.

Seated in a chair near the door was Deputy Simmons. Noah had insisted the deputy keep watch over the all-female gathering, for protection. Considering the recent events in and around town, none of the women had objected. He'd barely spoken the entire time, instead seeming content to read from the open book in his lap.

She sidestepped and gazed out the window. Outside, the sky had taken on the ominous dark gray that preceded a storm. A clap of thunder sounded, and she knew the storm wasn't too far off. "We'd better finish up, girls."

Lilly gathered up the old cloths that had been protecting the floor from paint splatters. "You're right."

Gregory spoke, but didn't look up from his book. "Weather's taking an ugly turn. You ladies better pack it in."

A flash of lightning punctuated his words.

Prudence and Prissy appeared, dragging Lilly's sewing table from the storeroom in the back of the building.

Prissy leaned against the oak table. "Where do you want this?"

Lilly waved her hand. "We'll see about it later. We need to get on home before the weather gets too bad."

The two women pushed the table against the far wall, and before they could even get it in place, the sky opened. From her vantage point at the window, Valerie could see the fat, heavy raindrops falling diagonally outside. "Oh, boy. Think we can wait it out?"

Gregory put his book aside and stood, straightening the heavy looking gun-belt around his waist. He came to stand next to Valerie, and observed the scene outside. "It's pretty rough out there. We'd better wait a bit, see if it's just a passing squall."

Valerie wiped her hands on the old apron covering her denims and work shirt, hoping to remove a bit of the white paint. She and the other girls tidied up as they waited for the storm to pass, or at least calm enough for them to get out of the building.

When they'd put away their supplies, they all gathered behind Gregory, taking seats on one of the cloth draped tables Lilly would be using to display some of her goods.

No one spoke.

The wind howled like an angry wolf as big raindrops continued to fall, pelting the roof and windows like tiny stones. Thunder rumbled just overhead, signaling how close the storm was. Every few moments, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the darkened sky.

In the past, Valerie had taken pleasure in thunderstorms. The sounds of nature had always brought about a sense of peace for her, and she'd often curl up in her window seat and take a nap
as the storm raged outside.

But this storm was different.

There was something ominous in the swirling winds, heavy rains, and the rolling thunder. A dark, frightening edge that she'd never felt before.

No, this wasn't just an autumn thunderstorm, passing through town to water the crops.

This storm seemed more like an omen.

In the semi- darkness of Lilly's shop, she raised her hand to her chest, and covered her heart with it.

Something terrible was coming to Ridgeway, something much more frightening than a storm.

In time, the sounds of the thunder grew fainter, and the rain slackened a bit.

Prissy broke the silence. "Lordy. Feels like I been holding my breath this whole time."

The others nodded in agreement, and Valerie wondered if they all felt the same sense of foreboding that had filled her. Thinking it better not to ask, lest she upset her friends, she kept her feelings to herself.

Gregory clapped his hands together. "Alright, ladies. Into your cloaks so I can get you all home."

As the girls shrugged into their outer garments, Lilly stifled a yawn. "I don't feel like riding all the way out to the farm. I'll take a room over at the Taylor."

Prudence, who lived even a bit farther from town, giggled. "I'll be your room mate."

Gregory opened the door, and held it for them. "After you, ladies."

They filed outside, with Valerie going last. The softly falling rain felt cool on her face as they all crossed the street toward the Taylor Hotel.

Once Gregory had seen Lilly and Prudence safely inside, he turned to her. "Miss Valerie, I'll see you to the mercantile, then I'll escort Miss Parker home."

She nodded, and the three of them crossed the road in the opposite direction. A short trip down the walk brought them to the mercantile. Waving to Prissy and the deputy, she ascended the stairs to the upper apartment.

Bernard was sitting in the kitchen, with a lit oil lantern and an open issue of
Fireside Companion
on the table. Next to his periodical was a steaming cup of coffee. "Evening, Val."

"Hi, Papa." She leaned down to kiss his brow. "Where's Mama?"

"Already gone to bed. You know how storms make her sleepy." He sipped a bit of the brew.

Valerie yawned. "They make me sleepy, too. Goodnight, Papa."

"G'night, honey."

She squeezed his shoulders briefly, then slipped down the hallway to her room.

While she lay in her warm bed, the rain continued to fall outside. As the remnants of the storm lingered on, so did the odd feeling of dread. Doing her best to dismiss it, she pounded her feather pillow a bit, then lay back down and waited for sleep to claim her.

**

Draining the last of his morning coffee, Noah set the cup down on his desk, setting eyes on the two men across from him.

Greg was reclining comfortably in a chair, while the nervous looking Uriah Stevens paced back and forth, wringing his hands.

"Uriah. Stop that before you wear a trench in my floor." Noah kept his eye on the young man, who had been pacing ever since his shift had begun a quarter of an hour ago.

"Sorry." Uriah halted his steps, and dragged over an empty chair from the stack kept in one corner of the office. Sitting down, he managed to be still for only a few moments before he started wringing his hands again.

"Alright. I'm going over to Cedarville to pick up the doctor coming in from Stockton."

Greg's face registered his confusion. "Why can't he just take the stage?"

Noah shook his head. "I've been wiring back and forth with the sheriffs in all the neighboring towns, and we've agreed to stop the stagecoach service until we smoke out the Bitters gang. No need to tempt them into committing more crimes."

Greg nodded. "Sounds reasonable. How'd the coachmen take the news?"

"They hate to lose business, of course, but they know the risk is just too high with those ruthless cads skulking about."

Uriah grunted. "We'll catch 'em soon, Sheriff. They gotta slip up sometime."

"I shouldn't be gone but a few hours. Uriah, you're in the office today. Greg, patrol the perimeter of the town, and be on the lookout for anything, and I mean anything, that doesn't look right to you."

Uriah groaned like a child denied a piece of penny candy. "Desk duty again? When are you going to let me go out on patrol?"

Noah looked at the young man, in his blue plaid shirt and denims. He was a bit on the lanky side, but he was tall, and could sit a horse with confidence. "I don't think you're ready for patrols just yet, Officer Stevens."

The young man folded his arms across his chest. "I've been practicing with my sidearm on my own, even after practicing with you. I can do this. Just give me a chance, will ya?"

Noah looked to Greg, who shrugged. "Worse case, he gets plugged, best case, he comes back in one piece. Either way, he'll have done a patrol, and he'll quit pestering us."

"Fine. Greg, you work the office. Uriah, patrol the borders." Noah locked his gaze with that of his youngest light horseman. "But be careful out there. I don't want Mrs. Stevens having to put you in the ground."

"I will." Uriah couldn't seem to sit still, and began squirming in his seat.

Greg rose and went to the storage closet, returning with a gun belt. He tossed the leather belt at Thad, who caught it. "Well, your reflexes are all right. You might have to add another notch to that thing, to get it to fit your narrow waist."

Uriah got to his feet, and tried the belt. It was too big, until he used the tip of his pocket knife to add a hole that made it fit perfectly. With the belt on, he inserted his pocket knife, as well as the Colt he'd had tucked into his waistband, into slots on the belt. When he finished, his face was beaming with pride.

Noah couldn't help smiling. While he still had his reservations about letting Uriah do a patrol, he remembered what it was like to be a green lawman, just itching for some action. He hoped for Uriah's sake that it proved to be a quiet day.

Rising from his desk, he gathered his pack, shrugged into his long duster, and placed his hat atop his head. "Greg, see that Officer Stevens is properly outfitted. See you two later this morning." With a wave, he stepped out into the still-dark morning.

It was just before sunrise, and as he dropped his pack onto the seat of his old wagon, he could see the band of light hanging low on the horizon. He was getting an early start on purpose, so he could be away from town for as short a time as possible. Buggy traffic on the main roads between towns would only increase after the breakfast hour, so by leaving now, he hoped to beat the rush.

Climbing up on the seat, he snapped the reins and urged Justice forward.

**

Valerie hitched up her voluminous silk skirts and ran as if her life depended on it, because, as far as she could tell, it did. All the odd feelings she'd had during last night's storm now seemed perfectly justified. The street, filled with the muddy remains of yesterday's rains, hampered her speed, but she dared not stop her flight. Behind her, someone was there, bearing down on her like the very hounds of Hell.

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that one of them was chasing her. The man, with his long, dirty blonde hair peaking from beneath a battered bowler, was a few yards behind her. Seeing him so close spurred her on, and she picked up her pace. If she'd had it to do over, she'd have chosen a simple day dress instead of the traveling costume that was now weighing her down.

Two more bandits had exited the Ridgeway Savings and Loan, filling the saddlebags of their horses with the hard-earned money of the townsfolk. Seeing her step out the newspaper office, where she'd gone to give her opinion on her father's new position as mayor, they'd given chase. She had no idea what made them target her, but she assumed they thought her wealthy because of her fine dress and fancy heeled slippers. She cursed the infernal things now; while fashionable, they were not made for running.

All around her, chaos reigned. Gunshots rang out, sending frightened horses and other beasts scurrying about. Women hurried inside the butcher's shop, pulling their children along to seek safety. Men of the town raised their rifles to defend their families and businesses.
Henry Carl, the blacksmith, stood on his stoop, his Colt 1877 aimed
.

"Look out, Miss Valerie!"

As she ducked away, Carl fired a shot that clipped the leg of her pursuer.  The man cursed a blue streak while the bullet whizzed into the side of the library, splintering the wood.

Sending a silent but sincere thanks to her neighbor, she headed for the mercantile, where she dearly hoped her parents were safely inside. Even though he was the newly elected mayor, Bernard insisted on continuing to run his store, as opposed to "sitting on his duff" in the mayor’s office.

Valerie saw the mercantile door swing open. Her barrel chested father stepped onto the plank walk, a pistol in each hand. Relieved beyond measure, she crashed into him as he folded one arm around her, keeping the other pistol trained on her pursuer. She wept her fear into his shoulder, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. "Compose yourself, my dear. We have guests." He was normally an easygoing fellow, but today, his steely tone made it clear he was a man prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect what belonged to him.

A second later, Valerie heard the telltale pop as a shell exploded from one of her father's pistols. The strong, acrid smell of the gunpowder filled her nostrils. She didn't have to look to know that the man chasing her had been felled. She heard his scream of pain and the thud of his body hitting the ground. Her face still buried in her father's chest, she heard him shout, "Where the hell are my lawmen?"

Deputy Simmons staggered out of the sheriff's office, clutching his shoulder. Blood spurted from behind his hand. His voice filled with pain, he shouted to those who passed him. "Somebody, ride for help!"

In answer, a female voice called out, "There's Sheriff Rogers!"

Raising her head, Valerie could see him off in the distance, coming from the edge of town. Where he had been this morning, she had no idea, but she dearly wished he'd been at his post this morning instead. He was astride the black stallion, leaning forward and galloping in fast.