"We'll start polling folks tomorrow." Noah sat up in his chair, leaning forward. "This isn't our fault, you know. You're a good man, Greg, and a dedicated deputy."
Greg's lips turned up in a slight smile. "Aw, shucks. You're pretty good, too, as sheriffs go. I guess the times are just changing."
"They are. But we'll adjust. That’s what folks have always done." He stifled a yawn. It had been a long day, and a new day would soon begin. "As for right now, I'm going home to my bed." He rose from his seat, grabbing his hat from the hook on the wall near his desk.
Greg passed him, sitting down where he had been. "See you in the morning, Noah."
Tipping his hat to his friend, he stepped out into the cool air, and nearly crashed into Valerie
Stopping abruptly, he reached out to right her before she fell. She looked to be wearing her cloak over her nightclothes.
"Valerie? What are you doing out so late?"
She looked up into his eyes, with red-rimmed eyes of her own. "I couldn't sleep."
He said nothing else, but wrapped an arm around her small waist.
CHAPTER 7
Comforted by the warmth of his embrace, Valerie walked with Noah down the plank walk. She was still on edge from what happened to Prissy, so much so that she hadn't been able to wind down. Not wanting to wake her parents, she'd crossed the street to the sheriff's office, hoping to find him there.
As he walked her back toward the mercantile, she sighed. "I don't want to go back home. I can't sleep."
Noah shook his head. "I don't want you out this late at night alone. It's safer if you go home."
"Noah..."
"Don't argue. Stay up and read if you must, but stay inside. Who knows what could happen to you wandering the streets alone at night?" He opened the gate that led around the side of the mercantile with his free hand.
She entered reluctantly. Gazing up into those glittering blue eyes of his, she spoke. "Stay with me for a while?"
He hesitated for a moment. Then, he stroked a gentle finger down her jaw. "Alright. Just for a moment."
The longer she looked at him, the more she could see the exhaustion lining his features. She was keeping him from his bed, and she knew it, but she needed the strength and safety of his nearness if she was ever going to get to sleep. Something came over her, a boldness she'd never felt before in her life. She lifted her open palms, cupping his scruffy face between her hands, and leaned up.
Their lips met a second later, and she couldn't remember ever having felt so alive. She'd caught him off guard, but soon he was kissing her back, his lips pressing against hers with the same enthusiasm she felt.
Both his arms wrapped around her waist, and her arms wound around his strong shoulders. The kiss deepened, filling her with the heady sensation only a powerful man like Noah could invoke.
He pulled away, breaking the seal of their lips. "I should go."
She knew he was right. Here they were, kissing in the moonlit darkness, with her dressed in nothing more than her nightgown and cloak. It was about as improper as it could be. "I know."
He released her from his embrace, and walked to the other side of the gate, closing it behind him. As he effectively put the physical barrier between them, he touched the brim of his hat. "Goodnight, Valerie."
"Goodnight, Noah."
He strode away, and she watched him leave until he was out of sight. Drawing her cloak tighter against the chill in the air, she climbed the back steps to the upper apartment, and slipped inside without a sound.
**
Draining the last few drops of his strong coffee, Noah stood by the front window of his office, looking out onto the street. The citizens were out today, moving to and fro. Some drove, some were on foot, some stopped to hold conversations. It was a typical weekday in Ridgeway, and as the lunch hour drew closer, the size of the crowd would increase.
He put his mug down on the surface of his desk and stretched, raising his arms high over his head. As he rubbed his eyes, he did his best to perk up. After only a few hours of sleep, he was the antithesis to all the hustle and bustle outside his door. Still, regardless of his desire to go home and crawl back into his nice warm bed, his duties as sheriff demanded he go out into the fray. Retrieving his hat from the peg, he placed in on his head. He grabbed the leather vest he often wore from the back of his chair, and shrugged it on over his blue shirt. His gun belt fastened to the waist of his denims, and the pad and pencil tucked in his back pocket, he stepped out into the crowd.
It took him a few moments of scanning the crowd before he saw someone who looked like a suitable person to poll first. He was a young farmer with a family, and he was presently leaning against the hitching post in front of the barber shop, smoking a cigar. Approaching the young man, whom he only knew in passing, he greeted him by touching his hat. "Morning, Billy."
Billy removed the cigar from his mouth and exhaled a cloud of spicy, pungent smoke. "Mornin', Sheriff. What can I do for you?"
Removing the pencil and pad from his back pocket, he readied them as he spoke. "Just a few quick questions. Have you heard of the crimes that have taken place here in town over the last few weeks?"
Billy looked thoughtful for a moment as he tapped his cigar against the hitching post, the ashes falling and being carried away in the breeze. "Well, I heard about some horse thefts, and a purse snatching. That what you mean?"
He nodded. "Yes. I was wondering what you think about the increase in crime in the area?"
"Sign of the times, I suppose. More people moving West, only some of 'em are up to no good, know what I mean, sheriff?" Billy took another draw from the cigar.
"What would you think about paying just a bit more in taxes so the town could have a regular posse for protection?" He jotted down Billy's name, and prepared to take his answer.
Billy scoffed. "No way, Sheriff. I already pay plenty, and I ain't parting with a cent more of my money, 'specially not for that old blowhard Stern."
Noah was a bit taken aback by the younger man's words. "What about your wife and daughters? Don't you want them to be safe?"
With a snicker, Billy shrugged his shoulders. "I got a Winchester, and my wife's got two little purse guns of her own. I think we already got all the protection we'll be needing."
Noah wrote Billy's sentiments down, then put the pad and pen away. "Thank you for your time, Billy. You've been a great help."
"No problem, Sheriff." The young man tipped his hat, and dropped his cigar into the dirt. After crushing it beneath his boot, he disappeared inside the barber shop.
There on the walk, Noah looked around for someone else to poll. This time, he chose a female citizen, Angel May, who worked the bar at the Crazy Eights saloon. She dressed in an unorthodox fashion for a woman, favoring tight fitting denims over skirts and gowns, but still donning lacy blouses. He strode across the street and approached her, where she was sweeping the walk in front of the saloon. Upon seeing his approach, she straightened and set the broom aside. Her dark lashes fluttering, she made eye contact with him. "How can I help you, Sheriff?"
"Morning, Angel." He tipped his hat. "Just wanted to ask you a few questions. I'm polling the townsfolk."
"Alright." She continued to stare at him, as doe-eyed as could be.
He ignored her overt flirting, and posed the same questions to her that he'd just asked Billy. Much to his surprise, she echoed similar sentiments.
"I don't think things are all that bad in town, Sheriff." Angel leaned against the facade of the saloon, crossing her ankles. "Me and my boss can handle the drunks in the saloon; if not, we just call you."
He couldn't hold back his sigh. "What about the safety of the other ladies, and young-ins in town?"
She shrugged. "I can handle myself, and I ain't got no babies, so..." Her nonchalant expression let him know her attitude about the situation. She was only concerned about herself, and considered the plight of her neighbors out of her sphere.
After writing her name a
nd opinion on the pad, he tucked it away. "Thank you, Miss Angel."
"Anytime, Sheriff." She smiled and held his eyes. "And if you ever get bored with Miss Ridgeway, you know where to find me." Gathering her broom, Angel sashayed through the saloon doors.
Shaking his head, he walked a few feet to the benches in front of the Taylor Hotel. Two remained since Mayor Stern's coach accident, so he took a seat on one of them to gather his thoughts.
So far, things were not going as he'd expected. He'd only polled two people, but both of them had been of the right age range to represent the majority of the citizens in and around town. In the past several years, the population had shifted to a more youthful one, with more young families than the town had ever had in the past. Those mid-twenty somethings had the most to lose should Ridgeway become a haven for criminals, yet they seemed roundly unconcerned about the latest illegal activities that had taken place right in their own backyard.
In a way, he could understand their point of view. After all, they had only their own families, property, and land to think about. He, however, was burdened daily with the enormous responsibility of ensuring the safety of all the citizens of Ridgeway. It was a duty he took very seriously, and he would do everything in his power to perform it honorably. He worked long, grueling hours, and wasn't paid nearly as much as the sheriffs in bigger towns and cities like Oakland and Sacramento, but he was sworn to protect and serve, and he did so to the best of his ability.
He thought of the people he knew, who lived and worked alongside him. Valerie and her parents. Miss Parker, the librarian. Ruben Gray, the postman and telegraph clerk. Miss Smart, and the children who attended Ridgeway Primary School. The Taylor family, and their staff at the hotel. They were all his neighbors and friends, and they all depended on he and his deputy to keep them safe.
As a boy, he'd been privy to the brave actions of his pa and two uncles, who were lawmen in Indian Territory. His pa, Irvin, had been a marshal, and his uncles, light horsemen. Growing up several miles outside of Wewoka, he and his two younger brothers had been regaled with tales of foiled train robberies, squelched raids on the reservations, and all manner of exciting deeds. His mother, Violet, had not been much of a talker, but she'd always beamed with pride at her husband's actions. After his uncle Isaac had been killed during a bank robbery, Noah's pa had retired from his post. His parents now lived on the coast in San Francisco.
He snapped himself back to the present, recalling the important work at hand. He would continue his polling, until he'd gathered at least twenty opinions, but the trend still worried him. If the other townsfolk shared a similar view, and refused to pay extra taxes for a posse to be raised, there was no need for him to bother Mayor Stern with the idea, no matter how sound he thought it was. He leaned back on the bench, ran a hand over his face. This was likely to be a very long day. When he felt he'd taken a long enough break, he got to his feet and went about his work.
By the time supper rolled around, he returned to the office, where Gregory was waiting for him. Hoping to hear a good report, he sat down on the edge of the desk. "What results did you get in the outlying areas?"
Greg, seated behind the desk, shook his head. "Polled seventeen folks between here and Oakland. Only three of them were willing to pay more in taxes for the posse."
That drew a long sigh from Noah. "Dang it. I polled thirty-five, and only six were willing to pay. Looks like our idea is sunk."
"I can't believe people don't want to part with another eagle a year for their own safety."
"Nobody seems to be taking these crimes very seriously. They all think it's just a fluke because of westward expansion."
"So, what now?"
He scratched his chin. " A volunteer posse, maybe? I'll wire my pa in San Fran. He's liable to have some kind of advice for us."
Shaking his head, Greg gazed out the front window. "I just wonder what’s gonna have to happen around here before folks see the need for a full time posse."
Noah felt a chill shoot down his back like a spider scuttling on his skin. "I don't know, but I'd sure hate to find out."
CHAPTER 8
With little Leo Benigno squirming in her arms, Valerie waved to Lilly. "We'll be fine. You and Ricardo go on to the shop." They were standing in the side yard next to the mercantile, just inside the wooden fence.
"Okay." Lilly, still holding Leo's chubby hand, looked hard pressed to part with her son. "We really should. We've got to get some work done in that building if I'm ever going to open my dress shop." She kissed the boy's chubby cheek once more, and released her hold on him. "Bye, sweetheart. Be good for Auntie Val, okay?"
Leo's answering "Yes, Mama," was a sweet as sugar cane. At three years old, he was quite talkative, but still did more giggling and fussing than actual intelligible speaking. With his bright green eyes, caramel skin, and mass of dark curls, Leo was the cherubic double of his father.
The handsome Ricardo, his long black hair bound at the base of his neck, stood on the walk, waiting for his wife. He was dressed for the work ahead, wearing a pair of worn denims and a faded brown shirt. Even in that attire, Valerie thought he looked every bit the dashing sea captain he was before he'd married Lilly.
Ricardo called out to his wife. "Come, dearest. The walls won't paint themselves."
With a final wave, Lilly dashed off to follow her husband, leaving Valerie alone with Leo.
The poor little tike broke into a wail as soon as his mother was out of sight. Arms flailing and head tilted back, he fussed something fierce, with fat tears streaming down his face.
Valerie held him close to her heart and shushed him, bouncing him up and down. She was quite used to Leo's outbursts, as she'd watched him for Lilly before. He was as attached to his mother as any child she'd ever seen, if not more so. Still, she didn't fret about his hollering, for she knew he'd soon tire himself out and fall asleep.
To speed the process along, she slipped through the gate, closing it behind her, and began to walk. As the rocking motion of her steps set in, her charge's wailing grew more quiet, and his tiny body less tense. Nodding to those she passed, she set her feet in the direction of the stretch of land beyond the diner, where she could sit with him and enjoy the evening breeze. It was an hour past suppertime, and she wanted to enjoy the last bit of remaining daylight.
Leo finally quieted as they neared the picnic table beneath the tree. Sitting down, she shifted him into her lap, surprised to see that he was still awake. She gave him a kiss on the forehead, then let him down. A second later, he was scampering about in the grass, chasing a butterfly.
From the bench, she watched his carefree play, and felt a fluttering inside her heart. Leo was so young, so full of awe and curiosity in the magical way all children were. It was a large part of why she wanted children.
And why it hurt so badly to know she could never have them.
Years back, when she'd first learned of her barrenness, she'd felt guilty about not being able to give her mother the grandchildren she craved. As time passed, she'd been met with a new pain, as she discovered her own maternal yearnings. Watching her friends bring life into the world, and nurture their little ones, had been a bitter pill to swallow.
Not wanting to let the melancholy wash over her, she contented herself with watching this sweet little boy at play.
She was so enraptured with watching Leo that she didn't see Noah until he was almost upon her. He was crossing the grass, wearing the white shirt, brown leather vest, and tight fitting denims that constituted his uniform. His blond hair was covered by the light brown Stetson he always wore, and the silver star glistened on the right side of his vest.
When he came to stand next to the table, he touched his hat brim. "Evening, Valerie."
She gave him a shy smile. "Evening, Noah. Care to join us?" She gestured to the empty space on the bench beside her.
"Sure." He sat down, and eased close to her. "Watching Leo for Lilly, I'm guessing."
She nodded, l
ooking at her handsome companion. Even under the shadow of the brim of his hat, his attractive features weren't dampened. The blue eyes were just as striking; the full lips, just as tempting. "She and Ricardo needed to do some work in her new dress shop."
He leaned back, stretching his big arms across the table's surface behind him. "How are things coming along with that?"
"Lilly says if all goes well, they'll open for business in the next two weeks." They were making small talk, it was obvious. But having had so little experience with courting, she assumed this was how it always began. "Any luck with finding the bandit who took Prissy's purse?"
"Nope. But I wired the sheriffs in five surrounding cities. Something'll turn up in a few days."
She swung her gaze back to Leo, who was still running around in the field. His lighthearted giggling filled her ears and her heart.
Until he tripped and fell over some unseen object in the grass. Then, his plaintive wail pierced the air. She knew she had better tend to the poor little dear before he woke the dead with his yowling.
By the time she made a move to stand, Noah's long legs had already carried him halfway to Leo. She watched as Noah scooped the boy up in his arms, speaking softly to him.
"There, there, little one." He examined Leo's left knee as he brought him back to the table. Sitting Leo down on the seat between them, he continued. "It's just a scrape. Let Uncle Noah fix it." He reached into his vest and produced a handkerchief, which he wet with a bit of water from the canteen he carried on his gun belt. He applied the damp cloth to Leo's knee, and the child's wailing immediately ceased. His green eyes still welled with tears, but at least he was quiet.
Amazed at his rapport with the child, she smiled. "Thank you, Noah. Your skill with boo-boos is truly impressive."
Still holding the cloth in place with one hand, he used his other to soothe Leo with gentle pats to his small back. "I have two younger brothers, so I'm used to tending to scrapes."
That was another tidbit about him that she hadn't known. "So, you have brothers. Where are they now?"
"My middle brother, Peter, is newspaper man in Philadelphia. My youngest brother, John, is a poker player."