~ The Widow's Ransom ~

by

Mallary Mitchell

The glass of whiskey River Kirby held in his hand froze halfway to his mouth when she walked in the saloon. Usually he didn’t give brunettes a second look, but something about this one drew his eye away from the three queens in his hand. Like the sun rising in the morning sky, she illuminated the room as she crossed. The stale scent of sawdust and sweat was dispelled by a faint scent of flowers. He tracked her as she passed.

What a pleasant distraction she was. He needed a bit of a distraction today. His future had been looking pretty good until this morning. He and his buddy, Sam, had spent the last week tracking Hollis Wakefield and dragging his sorry behind back to Truman’s Crossing. They recovered the money he’d stolen from the bank and brought all of it, just as promised, to Eustace Foster. Eustace had promised each of them, both River and his buddy Sam, five hundred dollars. It was five hundred River needed to make good on his loan. Five hundred he needed to recoup after a long hard winter that had killed nearly half of his horses. But his run of bad luck was holding true. He had the misfortune of arriving on the same day as the owner’s son-in-law, Frederick Hoff. Frederick hadn’t agreed with Eustace about the reward.

It had taken him hours to convince Eustace to use the reward to pay off his bank note, but today Frederick Hoff unconvinced him. If River didn’t pay soon, the bank got his land and livestock all because Frederick Hoff didn’t think he and Sam deserved the reward.

River sipped more of the whiskey, savoring the aromatic flavor a moment before swallowing it. His eyes traveled back to the woman. Like the fine whiskey he was drinking, she was out of place in this sad excuse of a saloon. Sour mash and fallen women were the usual fare in these parts.

What he wouldn’t give to remove that feathered hat and loose the curls she kept in a disorderly upswept style. He would bury his face in her soft hair as it fell free and trail kisses from her neck to her shoulders. Her bare shoulders, he corrected as an afterthought.

She didn’t look too happy. Her lips turned down like a heavy rosebud on a wilting stem. Her eyes were tired and shadowed. Would his kisses drive away the sadness in her eyes? Could he make her face blossom into smile? He took another drink and decided if he couldn’t get a smile he’d settle for a breathless look of awe.

As if feeling the pull of his heated gaze, she made eye contact with him. River gave a one sided grin. If only she could read his mind... she’d throw the rest of his drink in his face. This was a woman who inspired prose and sonnets. Unfortunately, he was no Will Shakespeare.

Her eyes demurely darted away from his. What the heck was she doing walking into the Dew Drop Inn? Hoyt Wright, the sheriff, walked up to her. Interesting. She nodded and spoke to Hoyt, then lifted her hand to move a stray curl behind a dainty bejeweled ear.

Boy Howdy. Forget the woman. Hello Beautiful.

A revoltingly large diamond ring glittered in the dusty sunbeams of the saloon. Now that just wasn’t right. No one should own something so completely for show.

Shoot, he didn’t want a big diamond all he wanted was a little bitty farm.

After being denied the reward, he’d spoken to the banker about an extension, explained who he was, where he’d come from and why the reward money was so important. Frederick Hoff had listened to him attentively then laughed.

Hoff accused him of setting the whole thing up with Hollis.

“He robs the bank, then you catch him, bring back the cash and get the reward,” he said. But Hoff hadn’t been content to leave it at that. He’d had to rub a little more salt in the wound. He had to ask what a man, half-Irish and half-Shawnee, would want with a farm?

Sheriff Wright spoke, drawing River’s attention back to the present. “I am so sorry to have to call you over here, ma’am.”

“You’re just doing your job, sheriff.” The woman answered.

“But to bring you over here, Mrs. Hoff.”

River’s stomach lurched at Sheriff Wright’s words.

No. Not Mrs. Hoff. Now that would be too cruel.

Surely it was a coincidence this woman had the same last name as that weasel of a banker.

“You say Frederick is in the back?” She tipped her head to the side as she questioned the lawman.

And maybe it wasn’t. He needed another drink.

“Yes, ma’am, your husband is just through here.”

Husband. It figures. River made a decision then and there to rob her. She probably married Hoff for his money. Any woman who would marry a man like that deserved to be robbed.

“River?” The man at his side spoke hesitantly. “You foldin’ or what?”

He cut his eyes over to Sam, his forgotten poker partner. He shook his head to clear it. “I’m in.” Forgetting the momentary distraction, he threw in his bet.

“Weeell,” Sam pulled his mouth to one side and eyed his cards. “I call.”

River didn’t show any expression as he laid down his cards--three queens and two fives. “And I win.” He raked the pot over his way and was instantly two dollars and fifty cents richer. At this rate he only needed to win two hundred more games and he would be able to pay off the remainder of the loan. Yeah, right.

~ * ~

The handsome stranger had stopped looking her way. Abigail peeked surreptitiously at the man in black from under the brim of her feathered, peach-colored hat as Sheriff Wright walked to the back room for a moment. The man appeared to be counting his winnings. He looked up and caught her. Once again she locked eyes with him.

He was scruffy and dirty and had the most incredible dark brown eyes she had ever seen. She took in his finely arching brows and his sooty lashes. There was no judgment or flirtation in his expression, just a challenge. A surprising jolt of awareness flooded over her. It was unexpected and exhilarating at the same time. But quite inappropriate.

She averted her eyes. Abigail, behave yourself! Your husband is injured.

It was funny how her inner voice sounded remarkably like her teacher at the finishing school back in Abingdon. She looked away, up, anywhere but at the man with the long black hair. Luckily, the sheriff returned to distract her.

“What exactly happened to Freddie, sheriff?” she asked. “What was the nature of the accident? Have you called a physician?” The lawman fidgeted with his handkerchief, folding and refolding it before returning it to his pocket.

“Ain’t no need, ma’am. That, um, woman he was with shot him dead.” The sheriff looked down as he spoke.

“Dead?” She searched the sheriff’s face as her lips parted. “Did you say dead?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I... are you sure?” The fact Freddie was dead was inconceivable. But, how very appropriate. She had wanted to leave her home in Virginia so badly. She had wanted a chance to prove herself and had finally persuaded her father to entrust this venture to Freddie. Now he was dead. “No hope?”

“Quite sure.” The sheriff nodded.

“And where is he?” She was still trying to comprehend his revelation as he pointed to the back hallway.

She closed her eyes inwardly groaning at the misfortune.

Wonderful. As soon as Father finds out, I’ll be sent packing straight back to Virginia. Returning to Virginia was the last thing she wanted. She buried her head in her hands.

To the rest of the room, she imagined she looked overwrought, or grieved. Not so, she was just angry and annoyed. Worm that he was, Freddie had his purpose. He was absolutely no use to her dead. Marriage to Freddie had given her freedom of a sort, at least the type of freedom a married woman enjoyed. Thank you again, Freddie, for ruining my life in yet another way, you vile piece of rubbish.

“Is there an undertaker in this town?” She tilted her head and cut her eyes at the outlaw looking fellow then looked away.

“I’ll send for him.” The sheriff, whose name she couldn’t recall, patted her shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Missy. It may seem difficult now, but things will look better in time. I guarantee.”

“Thank you for those kind words of encouragement,” she replied and watched the dark eyed man walk over to the bar. He ordered a drink and leaned a little closer to where she stood. He placed a rolling paper on the counter top then sprinkled in tobacco.

“I imagine you’ll need some time to get his affairs in order.”

The sheriff touched her arm in a comforting gesture.

“Yes. This is all such a terrible shock. Thank you for your assistance during this difficult time.” She sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her eyes but there weren’t any tears.

“Just doing my job. You know, you don’t have to go back there in that room at all. It’s not a sight for a little thing like you to have to see. When he’s fixed up all proper, I’ll send Bob over for you and we can make the final arrangements.”

“Thank you, sheriff. I do think I will go back to the hotel and lie down a bit.”

She turned for the door and walked slowly by the man at the bar and as she passed, he tipped his hat.