Sherri Shackelford - Winning the Widow's Heart

Jo kept quiet, a trait that won Jack’s increasing admiration. At least she wasn’t crying anymore, another positive sign. If she didn’t want to talk, then he sure wasn’t going to force the situation. Looked as if he was going to make it to town before lunch, after all.

She bumped her hand down the length of one dark braid, her gaze focused on the hay beneath her feet. “Mrs. Cole says you were chasing bank robbers when you barged in.” She shot him a sideways glance. “What if you make another mistake? What if someone gets hurt?”

His fingers stilled. He had the uneasy sensation this conversation had nothing to do with bank robbers. “You make a mistake, you make amends. That’s all the good Lord asks of us.”

“How do you make amends for lying?”

He busted the straw in two pieces. Everybody lied, he reminded himself. Just not for the same reasons. “You make up for lying by telling the truth. You wanna start now?”

“I told Mrs. Cole I could deliver that baby. But I couldn’t.” Her chin quivered. “I was so scared I wanted to run away.”

Relief shuddered through him. He’d been expecting to hear something much worse. She was barely more than a child herself, no wonder she’d been terrified. He was making a fast slide past his thirtieth year, and he’d considered running away himself. “You delivered a baby. That’s a grave responsibility. Being scared doesn’t mean you lied, just means you’re human.”

“You ever get scared?”

“Every day.” He barked out a laugh. “You wanna know a secret?”

She scrambled to her feet, brushing at the baggy wool trousers tucked into the tops of her sturdy boots. A voluminous coat in a dusty shade of gray completed the tomboy uniform. She flipped the braid she’d been worrying over one shoulder.

Her clear, green eyes searched his face. “What secret?”

“Truth is, I might have beaten you to the door. I wanted to hightail it out of that room faster than a jackrabbit out of a wolf den.”

“Truly?”

He chuckled. How many times had he done the same? Judged someone’s face, watching for subtle hints to test the sincerity of their answers? “I was terrified.”

Midnight butted against the neighboring stall, reminding Jack of his purpose, of the unfinished business weighing on his conscience.

As Jo absorbed his confession, her shoulders relaxed.

He mentally patted himself on the back for his inspired handling of the situation. A few more words of assurance to wrap things up, and he could leave. He’d have to regroup in Cimarron Springs and interview the sheriff once more. Judging by the lawman’s lazy work habits, the task of gathering information was going to take all afternoon, further postponing his trip.

He’d decided to visit Wichita earlier that morning. Every two-bit thief in Kansas wound up there at some point or another. The frontier city was the key to locating the outlaw, Bud Shaw.

“You’re a brave girl for sticking it out,” he encouraged.

He’d settled Jo’s fears. He’d be in Cimarron Springs by this afternoon.

Jo looked him up and down. “You still chasing them outlaws?”

“Outlaw. There’s only one left.”

“What happened to the rest? How many were there all together? Do you always chase outlaws?”

Jack held up a hand, halting the deluge of questions. “There were three all together. They shot a…they shot a woman during a robbery in Texas. On their way out of town, the sheriff gut shot one of them, a man named Slim Joe.”

“Did he die?” she asked eagerly.

“That kind of wound doesn’t kill a person right off. Slim Joe had a lot of time to talk. He turned over his partners, Pencil Pete and Bud Shaw. We caught up with Pencil Pete right off and threw him in jail. Then we found Bud Shaw. Except, well, I think we made a mistake.”

“Then Bud Shaw isn’t one of the outlaws?”

“I think there are two men named Bud Shaw. I think the outlaw decided to take advantage of a man with the same name, and frame him.”

Jack didn’t want to expand, he’d already said more than he intended. Unease itched beneath his skin. There were two Bud Shaws, of that much he was certain. He’d discovered too much evidence to refute the fact in his own mind. Just not enough to convince the judge.

Jo glanced at him, her expression skeptical. “But what if something else does go wrong?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.” Jack threw up his hands. “Why are you worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet?”

“What if you can’t find him? What then?”

“Standing around here talking about the future ain’t gonna change anything. Why solve a problem before it happens?”

“Don’t get all riled up, Ranger. You’re spooking the animals.”

Jack pressed the brim of his hat tighter to his head with both hands. Women confounded him. He had one female concerned about naming a baby that was too young to answer, and another looking for a solution to a problem that hadn’t yet occurred. What was a man to do?

Gritting his teeth, he forced a smile. “Well, you did real good delivering that baby.”

“Better than you. I thought you were going to throw up.”

“So did I,” he retorted, his voice more forceful than necessary.

She tossed back her head and laughed at his shouted confession. Jack scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. Her infectious laugh soon had him chuckling. The sound rumbled low in his chest, rusty and neglected, then bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d truly laughed, especially at himself.

He used to laugh with his brothers all the time—when they weren’t beating the tar out of each other. They’d roll around in the dirt and blood, bent on killing each other, until one of them said something smart-alecky and the whole group erupted into raucous laughter. He missed that. Missed the camaraderie of his family.

Things had changed after their pa’s death. His older brothers had ceased brawling, and started slicking back their hair. Weddings had followed, and then a new niece or nephew every year after. His mother had reveled in her role as grandmother before she’d died. Lord knew they’d all been lost without her. Jack was too young to take over the ranch by himself, and too old to be ordered around by his brothers.

He’d joined the Texas Rangers instead, and Doreen had supported his decision. Jack pictured his sister-in-law the last time he’d seen her. How the white-linen pillow had framed her ashen face, the growing pool of red seeping through the bandages.

His smile waned. Three months, and he wasn’t any closer to catching the real Bud Shaw than the day he’d ridden out of town. He’d failed the one person who had always believed in him.

“You okay, Ranger?” Jo asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

“Not mine,” he growled.

He’d crushed all the joy from their exchange, but he didn’t care. “How far does a man have to go to find some peace around here?”

He pivoted on his heel, stalking out of the barn. The sooner he brought the right man to justice, the better.

* * *

Elizabeth hoisted the empty laundry basket onto the bed. Her weakened body protested the exertion. The past two days had been so chaotic, so full of change, she craved a task to ground her. A mindless chore. Something familiar and comforting.

She turned, catching her disheveled reflection in the looking glass above the dresser.

“Oh, my,” she groaned.

Her hair hung in a tangled mess down her back. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink in stark contrast to her pale face. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. She looked no better than one of the beggars she used to pass on her way to work in the city. She lifted her brush from the dresser. Tugging the bristles through the snarls, she worked the knots loose. The heavy mass soon smoothed and shined.