Carolyn Davidson - Texas Lawman

And then in less than five minutes she discovered how wrong she was.

“My name’s Brace Caulfield,” the lawman told her as he approached with one arm full of blanket and pillow, a white towel balanced atop the pile. His other hand held a bucket of water, and he deposited it on the floor while he unlocked the cell.

Ungraciously she sat on the bunk while he carried his bundle inside and placed the bedding on the chair, then lowered the bucket to the floor at the foot of her cot. Only her good upbringing forced her to utter a grudging thanks for his efforts, and she was answered with a brief nod.

From his back pocket he withdrew a candle and several matches and in less than a minute had lit the taper, then allowed the wax to drip onto the floor. The candle was set in place, and its glow illuminated the cell around her, providing comfort she hadn’t expected. She hoped it would last at least until she went to sleep, although that might be a long time from now.

“I’ll be in my office all night,” he told her. “If you need anything, just call out.”

“You’re not going home?” she asked disbelievingly. Surely the man had a home to call his own.

“Not with a female in my jail,” he told her forcefully. “There’s not much chance of danger to you, but I don’t think it’s wise to ask for trouble. That saloon down the street is full of fellas who’d give their eyeteeth for a chance to touch your pretty face.”

“I doubt they know I’m here,” she protested, unwilling to face the thought of him in the next room.

“Well, we’re not gonna give them a chance to come looking, are we?” Locking the door with a quick twist of the key, he stuffed the ring into his pocket and watched her for a moment through the bars. “You’re safe, Miss Murphy. If you’re thinking I’m gonna come in here and bother you, don’t give it another thought. My mama raised me to be a gentleman.”

And somehow Sarah knew he spoke the truth. In the light of her candle, his eyes were dark and shadowed, yet compelling, as if he looked into her very depths and knew the fears she held within her.

The candle indeed lasted, longer than she’d expected, and her gaze focused on it for long minutes as she coaxed her body to relax on the hard cot. It still burned as her eyes finally shut.

She awoke in the dark, aware of another presence nearby, and sat up with a start.

“It’s all right, Sarah. It’s me, Sheriff Caulfield.” The voice came from outside her cell, and as she focused on its source she was able to see the tall, shadowed figure of the man who spoke.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

“No. Just making sure you’re all right. Do you want another candle?”

It would not be wise to give in to her natural inclination, she decided, and refused his offer. Inviting the man into her cell was the last thing she wanted to do in the middle of the night, given her trembling hands and fearful thoughts. He was too inviting, his calm, sure voice offering security and safekeeping. And she needed every bit of independence she could muster for the days ahead.

“No, I’m fine,” she told him, with a fine disregard for the truth, then placed her head back on the thin pillow and closed her eyes, choosing to live with the lie she’d spoken.

S leeping on a chair guaranteed a miserable night. Brace had realized it before midnight, and by three in the morning he was ready to occupy the cell next door to his prisoner. The fact that she would likely rouse and be wary of his presence a few feet from where she lay kept him seated before his desk. His head finally sought the hard surface and he dozed fitfully, opening his eyes when the rising sun appeared in the window.

Yawning and stretching, he made his way to the cell where Sarah slept, curled on her side, the blanket drawn up over her shoulder, the miserable pillow tucked and rolled beneath her neck. At least she’d had a flat surface upon which to spend the night. Hard and barren of a mattress it might be, but he’d warrant the cot was a sight more comfortable than the chair he’d occupied.

His key rattled in the lock and the young woman’s eyes blinked, then opened fully, and she peered at him blankly for a moment. Then recognition kicked in and she pulled the blanket over her head. “Go away.” It wasn’t even a polite request.

He ignored the words with a grin as he stepped into the cell. “Thought you might want to take a walk,” he suggested, as if it were an option. Either she went now or in an hour or so. And unless he missed his guess, she was going to be mighty uncomfortable if she had to sit on that cot until he returned with her breakfast.

“A walk?” The blanket flew off and she swung her legs over the side, sitting upright and shaking her head as if to clear it. A yawn required covering her mouth with one hand, and then she eyed him boldly. “And where is this walk going to take me? To the gallows?” she asked sweetly. “Or haven’t you had time to get them built yet?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman dependent on my good nature,” Brace said softly. He turned from her and stepped through the cell door.

“Wait.” The single word halted his progress, and he glanced at her idly over his shoulder.

“What for? You all of a sudden decide to be polite?”

She sighed and rose, staggering a bit as she took a single step toward him. An involuntary sound passed her lips and he frowned as she gritted her teeth and shuffled her way to the door where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the accommodations?”

“Not much. The ground was softer, I think. At least I had a little grass under me.”

“Where was that?” Brace asked.

She shook her head. “Couldn’t say. Somewhere the other side of town. Under a tree, next to a creek.”

“Wallin’s Creek, probably,” he surmised. “About four miles down the train tracks and a little to the south.”

“That sounds about right.” She halted in the cell doorway and looked at the back door. “That door unlocked?”

Brace shook his head. “Nope. I’ll have to open it for you.” Easing past her, he brushed against her shoulder and she flinched from the contact. “Sorry,” he said lightly. “Didn’t mean to push you.”

She recovered quickly. “You didn’t. Just caught me off balance.” Her eyes were bright blue, he noted again, just before she lowered the lids, hiding her expression from his sight. Dark hair hung in a tumble of waves and curls over her shoulders and down her back. His gaze was drawn by the sight. He’d thought he preferred golden hair, but with a slow grin he revised his opinion.

In seconds he’d unlocked the door and opened it, waving her through. “Go ahead,” he invited, and then watched as she walked past him and down the short path to the outhouse. She was easy enough to look at, he decided, taking full advantage of the view of her rounded bottom, outlined nicely by the pants she wore. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited patiently until she reappeared.

“I’ll get you some warm water if you want to wash up while I’m gone,” he told her as she walked past him again, heading for the open cell door.

“I’d appreciate it,” she said politely. And then ruined the nicely spoken words with a glare from those brilliant eyes. “How long will it take for you to decide I’m not a threat to your community, Sheriff?”

“You in a hurry to go someplace?” He locked the cell door and stepped away from the bars.

“You know damn well I am,” she said bitterly. “You’re holding me without a valid reason, and you know it. Either charge me with a crime or let me go.”

“All right,” he said agreeably. “I’ll think of something while I go find you some breakfast.”