The Sheriff's Guns (The Texas Riders Western #13) (A Western Frontier Fiction) Page 2

  Mayor Rudolph Irving was already inside. He turned as the door shut and greeted Timothy with a friendly smile that reached all the way to his brown eyes.

  The smile lasted only a moment as he gave Timothy a once over, the corners of his lips frowning ever so slightly. But then the smile returned and he walked toward Timothy with an outstretched hand.

  Timothy shook it. “Good to see you again, Mayor Irving.”

  He’d only met the man once before, when he’d come to Blackgate to talk to Timothy about taking over as sheriff. He was big in the middle, and the beginnings of gray hair dotted the brown still growing out of his scalp. He smiled a lot and was made all the more likable for it.

  “And you,” said the mayor. “We were starting to get worried. I expected you some time ago.” The mayor dabbed at his neck with a handkerchief, wiping away his sweat.

  Timothy removed his hat and pulled a handkerchief of his own. It was a hot day, and the Texas heat was doing its best to make every man, woman, and child swelter under its gaze.

  Clear Water was a small town. There weren’t a lot of places to cool down. No rivers or oceans. Not here. The closest was a narrow stream that he’d crossed on his way in. A few kids had been playing in it, splashing around. They’d looked at him for only a second, more interested in the water than him.

  From the east end of town where he’d entered by, up to the center of town where the sheriff’s station was, he’d passed a couple of handfuls of shopfronts. The gun shop, blacksmith, and the general store had looked in good enough repair, but the rest of the stores had looked a little rundown, which was putting it nicely.

  The haberdashery’s front window had a big crack running in a jagged scar from one corner to the other at a diagonal; the bakery’s window was boarded up though a sign on the door said open, and the smells of freshly baked bread wafted out when it opened and closed.

  The haberdashery’s window was fine, but the hats on display were far from it. Hats styled from five years ago sat upfront on the shelves collecting dust, and he had the feeling if he’d inquired after something more modern, he’d have been met with a dazed look by the proprietor and a scratch of the head.

  Modern? Here? This is Clear Water.

  About the only store he’d seen that looked up-to-date was a little dress shop with a dark green awning out front and a welcome sign hanging on its door. The dresses in the window had looked of high quality, and he suspected the owner of the shop was well-trained in her craft.

  The sheriff’s station also seemed right enough. The door had squeaked loudly as Timothy went through it, but otherwise, the wooden structure seemed solid. There was no paint on the walls, just solid wood splintered here and there but nothing too bad.

  Two desks sat in the middle of the single room, a third desk sat against the sidewall. Two jail cells lined the back of the room.

  There was no jailhouse in Clear Water. The town wasn’t big enough for one. That suited him okay though. He hadn’t had one as a deputy in Blackgate, either.

  Standing behind the mayor was a tall man about Timothy’s own age. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was glaring at Timothy as if he were one of the outlaws in the posters tacked to the back wall. The mayor introduced him as Wyatt Hardin, Timothy’s new head deputy.

  “Nice to meet you,” Timothy said, shaking Wyatt’s hand.

  Wyatt’s glare only deepened. “You too, I guess.”

  Mayor Irving shot Wyatt a look, but Wyatt ignored it. “Do you always arrive to your first day as sheriff dressed like a beggar?”

  The mayor shook his head. “Wyatt, we talked about this. You said you could handle yourself.”

  Wyatt looked at the mayor and shrugged. “It was just a question.” His eyes returned to Timothy, waiting for an answer.

  “I stopped to help fix a broken wheel on a wagon carrying a mother and her child,” Timothy said.

  Wyatt’s jaw tightened, but the mayor looked vindicated. “I thought as much,” said Mayor Irving, turning Timothy toward two more men, both who looked barely old enough to grow whiskers. “This is Joe and Homer Morin, Clear Water’s youngest deputies.”

  “Youngest and best,” Joe said, shaking his hand. “Anyway, I figure we’re in good company, seeing as how you’re the youngest sheriff Clear Water’s ever had.”

  Wyatt scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t say what was on his mind, but it was easy to figure out. Wyatt didn’t like Timothy. Maybe later Timothy could figure out why.

  For now, he shook hands all around and learned that Homer was the younger of the two brothers by a year. He was also the shorter of them, not quite catching up to Joe’s six feet. Homer was maybe five-ten, if that.

  The Morins were nineteen and eighteen to Timothy’s newly turned twenty-three. And it was his first time as sheriff. Up until now, Timothy had only served as head deputy. Mayor Irving had taken a bit of a chance on him, and Timothy swore to himself he wouldn’t let the man down.

  Joe and Homer both seemed all right, ready and willing to accept him as their new sheriff. Wyatt was another matter. Timothy assumed it had something to do with the last sheriff. Maybe the two of them had been especially close.

  It was only natural, in that case, for Wyatt to feel a certain amount of resentment at Timothy’s taking over. By all accounts, Clear Water’s last sheriff had been a good man. If typhoid hadn’t taken his life, he’d still have the job.

  “I’m not here to fill anyone’s shoes. Your last sheriff left shoes too big to fill, anyway,” Timothy told his new deputies. He wanted them to know that he respected the memory of their old sheriff. “I only want to keep Clear Water safe.”

  Mayor Irving and the others smiled at him, all except Wyatt. “Walk me out,” the mayor said, casting a glance at Wyatt. They left the station together, and Timothy walked the mayor a few doors down before they stopped.

  “I want to tell you something about Wyatt,” the mayor said, dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again.

  “Was he close with the last sheriff?” Timothy asked, thinking the mayor wanted to explain his sour behavior.

  “Yes, but that’s not the problem.” The mayor drew in a breath. “Wyatt wanted to be sheriff. He asked me to let him step up, but I had to turn him down flat. He’s a good man, but his temper’s not right for the job. Not yet, anyway.”

  Timothy nodded. The right temperament was important for a sheriff, just as much as for a mayor. “I take it he’s not too happy about me coming here, then.” At least now he knew why Wyatt didn’t like him.

  “You two are the same age, and you both served your time as head deputy. But Wyatt...” The mayor paused. “A couple of years back, his mother and sister were killed by three thieves who broke into their home during the night. Did what they wanted with the women, then shot them and left them for dead.”

  Timothy’s muscles twitched. Losing your family like that was tough. Timothy didn’t need telling. “Did they get the men who did it?”

  Mayor Irving nodded. “Two of them. They stood trial and were hung, but the third man got away. Wyatt hasn’t been quite right since. He’s got some things he’s still working out, I think. Only I’m not sure he ever will.”

  Now things made sense. “I’m glad you told me,” Timothy said. Understanding the problem was halfway to fixing it.

  He said goodbye to the mayor and went back into the station. Wyatt was at his desk. Joe and Homer shared the desk at the side of the room.

  “How about you and me get a drink later,” Timothy said to Wyatt. “I’m buying.”

  Wyatt looked at him a long moment before shaking his head. “I don’t drink with people I don’t like,” he said and buried his head in some papers.

  Timothy sighed. If things stayed like this, his time in Clear Water was gonna be long and hard.

  * * *

  chapter 0 2 ✪

  * * *

  Timothy and Wyatt’s desks were side by side, and more than once Timothy caught his head deputy looking at him as though he were picturing Timothy’s head on a serving platter. When the looks continued on the second day, Timothy decided to step out of the station and give them both some breathing room.

  Maybe all Wyatt needed was time to adjust. He hoped so because the alternative was not a friendly one. Timothy was willing to put up with a few glares, but he had to know the men he worked with could be counted on.

  If Wyatt’s attitude didn’t improve, neither would Timothy’s confidence. And Wyatt was mistaken if he thought Timothy would let him stay on as head deputy if he felt he couldn’t trust the man. But getting rid of Wyatt so soon after his arrival wouldn’t win any favors with Homer or Joe, probably not the mayor either.

  For now, Timothy was content to wait and see what happened over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, he might as well learn the town. He’d only passed by the storefronts so far, he hadn’t been inside anywhere yet. Other than his home, that was.

  The house Timothy was living in came with the job. It was small but it was all his, and it suited him just fine. Mayor Irving said if he ever wanted to upgrade, the expense would be on him. Timothy was fine with that too. He wasn’t planning on having a wife and family, so all he needed was exactly what he had.

  The barber, a jolly fellow with a larger belly than the mayor, said hello when Timothy stepped inside and offered him a free trim and a shave to go with it. Timothy thanked the man but declined the offer. If he wanted a trim and a shave, he’d pay for it like any other man in town.

  Passing by the dress shop, Timothy thought he might as well stop in and get acquainted with the ladies of Clear Water as well as the men. A middle-aged woman with a full figure and a short frame greeted him with sparkling eyes and a lively smile.

  There wa
s gray in her once-dark hair, but that did little to alter the jauntiness in her voice or the bounce in her step. She was one of those women who would be forever youthful, even after the wrinkles had set in.

  “Good to meet you,” she said after he’d introduced himself. “I’m Lou Ellen Brown. Everybody here calls me Lou though.”

  She gave his hand a hard pump that surprised him with its strength, and he felt the calluses on her fingertips from hours spent with a needle and thread. He liked her immediately.

  “I hear Wyatt’s giving you trouble. Just send him over to me, I’ll set him to rights.” Lou threw her head back and laughed.

  “I guess word travels fast in Clear Water,” he said.

  “Faster than most towns, anyway,” Lou said.

  The shop itself was small, like most things in Clear Water, but it was exceptionally tidy. Both every day and special occasion dresses lined the walls. Lou proudly told him she made them all herself and took on special orders for any woman in town who wanted something custom, without charging them an arm and a leg for it.

  “You should meet my assistant. Best girl I ever had,” Lou said and turned and shouted toward a back room that was curtained off from the rest of the store. “Ashley, come out here a minute, would you, please?”

  A blonde woman with a shapely body and familiar blue eyes stepped out of the back. She looked at Timothy and her jaw dropped open. Pink lips formed a silent “O”, and her hand reached out for something to steady herself with.

  “Timothy?” she said in a shaky voice.

  Timothy looked at her. “Ashley?”

  For one moment, he was transported back eight years to Slim Hollow. The last time he’d seen her was the day his parents had been murdered by Buckley Snider. He’d given up his search for her long ago, and now here she was.

  He stepped forward. “You live here?”

  She nodded silently, her hand still shaking. Her face was white.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said. “How long have you been in Clear Water? We should have dinner. I’ve often wondered what became of you.”

  Ashley’s mouth opened and closed then opened again. “Forgive me, I left something unfinished in the other room. It was good to see you, Timothy,” she said and turned away from him. She ran behind the curtain and out of his sight.

  * * *

  In the back of the shop, Ashley tried to catch her breath. Her head felt light. How long had it been since she’d seen Timothy? Eight years, at least. Clear Water was the last place she’d expected to find him. It was nowhere near Slim Hollow, which was why she’d come here in the first place.

  She heard the curtains brush aside and knew Lou Ellen was standing behind her. “What just happened out there?” Lou asked

  Ashley picked up the dress she’d been hemming, a custom order gown for a woman who had little money but needed something nice for her daughter’s wedding. Lou had given her a good deal on it, as she often did for the women of Clear Water when money was an issue.

  Lou was still standing there. Ashley turned her head halfway and saw Lou’s hands planted firmly on her hips. “What?”

  “I asked you what happened out there,” Lou said.

  Ashley shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  Lou sighed, exasperated. “Don’t you do that with me and think you can get away with it. I’ve lived long enough to recognize two former lovers who are still in love when I see them.”

  Ashley laughed and turned around now. “You’ve got it all wrong. Timothy and I knew each other when we were children. We grew up together. We were never more than friends. The last time I saw him I was only twelve.”

  Lou’s hands moved off her hips and she took a step forward. “The best lovers are the ones who start as friends,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Ashely blushed and turned away. “I don’t think so.”

  But Lou wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “In the four years you’ve been here, I’ve never once seen you with a man. This is the first man who’s even gotten a rise out of you, and you won’t at least have dinner with him?”

  Ashley paused, considering how much to tell Lou Ellen. She was like a mother to Ashley, only the type of mother Ashley used to wish for instead of the one she’d been born to. But that didn’t mean she wanted Lou knowing everything about her past.

  “It’s been a long time since we saw each other. A lot’s changed,” Ashley said finally.

  Lou frowned. “That’s the point of dinner. You get to know each other all over again.”

  But Ashley shook her head, and this time, when she said no, it was with a finality that even Lou could not argue with. Lou’s frown deepened, and Ashley did not think she could stand to be frowned at like that another second.

  “I’m going out for a bit. I need some air, I won’t be long.” She dashed out the door before Lou could stop her.

  Timothy was across the street and spotted her as soon as she came out. “Ashley,” he said, calling out to her. Had he been waiting for her?

  The idea sparked old fears in her. The feeling that she was always being watched, always being chased, that men were always after her for one thing and would get it from her anyway they could. Those feelings had never left her even after she’d run away, but in the last couple of years, they’d started to diminish. Now they came racing back full force.

  “What do you want?” she said as he stepped toward her.

  He must have sensed her fear because he stopped where he was. “Nothing, only to say hello. It’s been a long time. I looked for you after you left Slim Hollow. Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

  Her mouth was dry. “You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” There was no way she was going to tell him her mother had tried to sell her to Buckley Snider.

  He hesitated. “You know, the last day I saw you was the same day my parents were killed.”

  Her feet felt stuck to the walkway. She wanted to run from him and his questions, but she didn’t know how. “I... I know. I read about it in the papers. I’m sorry.”

  If Timothy knew they were dead because they’d tried to help her, he wouldn’t want to have dinner with her. But she couldn’t tell him that; she wasn’t brave enough.

  “I have to go,” she said, taking a step away from him.

  “Wait. Have dinner with me. Any night you like. I just want to see you.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” This time, when she turned to go, she did not look back.

  * * *

  Wyatt hadn’t meant to be standing in the shadows hiding just a few feet from Sheriff Dean and Ashley. He’d been on his way to see her and stopped at the flower cart off the side of the alley to buy her something.

  If Timothy hadn’t called after her, he might never have noticed them. But once he did, it was impossible for him to look away. Especially once he realized they knew each other. From the way they talked, they were old friends. Or lovers.

  Jealousy sprang up in Wyatt’s veins. He fought hard to keep it under control, telling himself that Ashley was not his, not really. All the times he’d asked her out, she’d never once accepted.

  What bothered him as he watched her with Timothy was that for the first time, he could see a part of her that wanted to accept. Timothy had asked her to dine with him, and she wanted to go. The words that came from her said otherwise, but her face and body spoke volumes to the contrary.

  Wyatt crushed the flowers he was holding, and the cart’s owner yelled at him. Wyatt turned back, apologizing and paying for them. When he turned around again, Ashley was walking away. She’d left Sheriff Dean with a sad, hangdog look on his face that Wyatt wanted to put an end to with his fist.

  Sheriff Dean walked off. Wyatt counted to three, took in a breath, then threw the crushed flowers he’d just bought on a garbage heap. He started back for the sheriff’s station, telling himself he was cool and calm, all while planning out various ways to make the new sheriff squirm.

  * * *

  chapter 0 3 ✪

  * * *

  Buckley sat on a bench just outside Snake Bend’s tiny diner with the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes. James sat beside him, his hat pulled just as low.