The Marshal's Surrender (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 3) Page 7

  Noelle looked to her mother, then father. Her attention settled on Gus once more. “A trap set to ensure you walked into their hands, I suppose. They believed I would be enough motivation for you to come.”

  Doubt undermined her statement. Had she escaped, fearing he wouldn’t come for her?

  Utter certainty forced his honest response. “I would walk into the fires of hell to reclaim you.”

  His statement reverberated with the power of an oath. A vow made before her parents, siblings, and God.

  She nodded, her eyes lowered. Didn’t she believe him?

  He’d convince her, though he’d ensure he never had to. He’d safeguard Noelle with his life.

  He wished they were alone so he could reach for her, and wrestled with the overarching question: Why?

  “What reasons did they give?”

  “Boss wouldn’t say. Just ‘catch ourselves a U.S. Marshal.’”

  Marshal.

  Not Sheriff. Priceless information…if accurate.

  During his decade in the U.S. Marshals Service, he’d handled hundreds of cases involving threats against federal judges, and sent scores of men to prison.

  Where to begin eliminating threats?

  He should be grateful for the developments. Any revelations brought them closer to apprehending the criminals.

  “I don’t understand why they’d want to capture you.” Mrs. Finlay set a platter of piping hot biscuits on the table, then dished two onto Gus’s empty plate. “Eat up. You must keep up your strength.”

  She pulled platters of bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs closer. “Eat.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He filled his plate, hungry beyond measure. The family resumed eating, and Gus’s mind whirled through cases, but he kept coming back to one nagging, unanswered question.

  “Noelle, tell me. How did you get away?”

  She spread butter over a biscuit and reached for the honey. “I couldn’t sit there, waiting for them to capture you.”

  He swallowed, humbled by her bravery. “Go on.”

  “I said I needed the necessary and hurried out. They figured I had nowhere to go, it was getting dark and I was hungry, so I’d return. They foolishly trusted me.”

  Eight armed men. Hardly believable they let a captive attend to her needs unsupervised. How many minutes could have passed before one or more of them came after her? Five, ten?

  The snow had ceased falling. They could have tracked her, recaptured her within minutes.

  More like it, they’d set it up. He’d bet his bottom dollar they’d goaded her into escaping.

  Why?

  What motive could they possibly have?

  Had they waited at a distance, watched until she found her way to safety? Would they have intervened, had she been lost? Had they banked on her carrying the slim fragments of clues to him?

  Why kidnap a woman when leaving a note would be a surer bet?

  He watched Noelle eat her honeyed biscuit with a fork, his heart beating too fast.

  The puzzle pieces would not fit, no matter how he turned them this way and that…until, with a sudden and sickening click, that new puzzle piece locked into place. He saw his sketched map in his mind’s eye.

  Every attack had one thing in common.

  Him.

  He had visited every damaged ranch, homestead, and person. Many were his friends.

  With his heart pounding, he met the many pairs of Finlay eyes, watching him with concern.

  All those residents in town. The deputies. The silly girls who brought him lunch and persuaded him to pay calls.

  Were they next?

  “Sheriff,” Phil Finlay said, concern in his voice. “What is it?”

  “The Ruffians are watching me.” His head spun. Thoughts of where he’d been, all he’d done…

  He needed to warn folks he interacted with.

  Based on the dates he’d tracked on the map… “They’ve been observing me for two months.”

  He’d communicated with far more people in those eight or nine weeks than had been targeted by the Ruffian Gang. Were they aiming to hurt the people nearest and dearest to Gus?

  He wasn’t close to Widow Boczowski. He’d been to her place once. How had the bandits known Irene had wanted an arrangement? In arrears, he could see her gussied-up appearance, the manner in which she’d taken his arm and walked him to the house, and the hour he’d spent declining her offer. A town sheriff couldn’t take up with a mistress if he wanted to safeguard his reputation.

  Nothing had happened.

  This piece of the puzzle was the first to fit with absolute certainty.

  He knew he was right.

  The Finlays. Panic infused his worry. “By staying here, I’ve endangered you all.”

  “We don’t know that.” Phil didn’t sound convinced.

  The entire family remained at the table, Caroline and the boys, Noelle and her younger sisters, Luke and Effie—everyone—overhearing every word. Included in the conversation and decision-making…even if they didn’t speak.

  Despite the family gathered ‘round, Gus took Noelle’s hand and held it with reverence. “I know.”

  “If you have endangered us,” Mrs. Finlay said, “it’s too late to change things. Don’t you dare run off. We need you here.”

  He thought her statement through, but couldn’t see the point. “They’ll come for me, whoever the yahoos are. That confrontation must not happen here.” He considered mentioning women and children, but knew the Finlays would not forget their most vulnerable members. “You won’t be safe, no matter where I am, until I bring them to justice.”

  Mother Finlay rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder. Patience and understanding mixed with her concern. “We trust you will.”

  There they went, again, trusting him when they shouldn’t. Nothing about his efforts to bring in the Ruffian Gang had progressed as it should. He might be at it for quite some time.

  He might not succeed.

  Noelle squeezed his hand. “I’m in this with you. We’ll work together.”

  He remembered the impact of her first sketch. Was it possible this precious, clever woman held the key to discovering the gang’s identities? “Can you draw their likenesses?”

  She nodded. Mother Finlay brought a stack of papers to the table.

  “Thank you.” Gus flipped through quality portraits of seven men. What a steel-trap of a memory, to save and recall the details when she’d sketched.

  She’d added color, capturing hair tints and eye shades.

  “Are they familiar?” Noelle sounded hopeful.

  He hated to disappoint. “I don’t know. I’ll study these with care.”

  “Good.” Father Finlay scraped back his chair, pushed his empty breakfast plate away. “What’s the plan from here?”

  “I’ll gather a posse.” He’d ridden with townsmen on three separate occasions. Every time, the gang had disappeared like smoke, the posse had lost their trail, and all had gone home disappointed.

  Things were different this time. Now he knew the bandits wanted him. Their escalating frequency and severity of attacks indicated they were ready for a showdown.

  Timothy, who’d listened silently through the exchange shifted in his chair, making the wood squeak. “When do we ride?”

  “First light.”

  Noelle’s father rested one hand protectively on his daughter’s shoulder. “Surely you mean the deputies will lead the posse. You, son, are staying right here, to safeguard Noelle.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Best way he could protect Noelle was to figure out who the men were, and what bone they had to pick with him.

  The Ruffian Gang wanted him. The conflict wouldn’t end until they’d had their chance.

  Gus aimed to give it to them.

  Word of Noelle’s safe return swept through Mountain Home like a blast of cold air from the north.

  While the deputies and a few other posse members were expected, no one anticipated that half th
e town would show up at the Finlay place in sleighs, on horseback, and on snowshoe, demanding Gus round up the Ruffian Gang and end the threats posed to the community.

  The whole main floor of the Finlay house—large though it was—was packed with people. The mayor and his wife, along with their tease of a daughter, Virginia, stood nearest Gus in the front parlor. The most recently retired sheriff, Liam Talmadge, also flanked by his busybody wife and flirtatious daughter, Belle, stood like the other slice of bread, sandwiching Gus in.

  Gus accepted a chair Luke offered and stood on it, to escape the girls and all the better to see over the crowd.

  He wanted to be heard.

  From his vantage point on the chair, he saw folks crowding down the hall and into the kitchen where he knew more townsfolk had gathered. The livery stable owner stood on the stairs with Gus’s Deputy Sheriffs.

  Gus put two fingers between his lips and whistled, long and shrill. The idle conversations ceased and he finally had everyone’s undivided attention.

  “Now’s the time for the community to pull together, as the Ruffian attacks have escalated.”

  “What,” Mayor Abbott stated in a confrontational tone, “are you doing about this, Sheriff Rose?”

  “Two posses ride at first light. One to the north and one to the northwest—”

  The mayor cut him off in a presumptuous show of good favor from the townspeople. Gus had already fallen several notches in their eyes. Apparently, support continued to wane.

  “Why not today? Miss Noelle returned home last night, did she not?”

  “We’re gathering information and resources.” He still had not identified the gang members.

  “Waiting gives them time to strike!” A man, somewhere near the back, complained loudly. The voice was unfamiliar and Gus couldn’t identify the speaker.

  Chattering continued. Women whispered. This impromptu town meeting was slipping beyond his control.

  “Silence, please.” Gus waited for the hubbub to diminish. “Rushing will endanger lives. I’m not willing to risk our deputies without an adequate plan and necessary protection.”

  “What about the rest of us? Our wives? Our daughters?” The livery owner folded his arms over a wide chest in a combative stance. He was always among the first to criticize, but never rode with the posse and wouldn’t contribute so much as a spare horse.

  Gus planted fists upon his hips. “Exercise caution. Stay armed. In town, keep an eye on each other. Those on outlying homesteads—”

  Noise erupted. Complaints hissed and boos followed.

  He’d expected resistance, but not outright jeering. He’d not seen this kind of mob mentality since the Peterson trial back in ‘95. That had escalated, flashed in an instant. Six men had lost their lives—a situation he could not afford to repeat.

  “Keep weapons handy. Check on your neighbors.” All common sense. No way could he and his small band of deputies protect every last citizen. That’s not how it worked out here, nor in cities like Hartford.

  The volume rose, tempers on a short fuse.

  The people were scared—and they should be.

  “Bottom line,” he shouted over the hubbub, “I can’t protect all of you. Men, step up. Protect yourselves.”

  For the first time in his many years as a lawman, doubts larger than himself expanded, grew, and threatened to overwhelm. Even when green, he’d known what he didn’t know and had superiors to turn to.

  Now, he was alone.

  “You’re the sheriff.”

  “We pay you to protect this town.”

  “You’re the law.”

  The clamor grew. More muttering and dissenting votes. Abundant criticism.

  A soft hand touched his arm, distracting him from the rising tension.

  Noelle. Smiling at him in her soothing way. She spoke, but her words disappeared in the din.

  He couldn’t hear, so he stepped down. The space was so crowded, she stood indecently close, virtually in the circle of his arms.

  She pressed up on her toes, her breath warm against his ear. “I’ll speak. Let me handle this.”

  He hated allowing a woman to fight his battles and defend his honor. But he would not deny her this. He offered his hand and steadied her as she climbed onto the chair. She caught the attention of a few among the crowd and they shushed the others.

  Noelle gazed into the faces of long-time neighbors and friends. Gus couldn’t miss the disappointment flitting over her features. That disappointment socked him in the gut and left him winded.

  One by one, the neighbors, friends, and folks who’d known her all her life quieted. She must’ve sought out a few particular people in the crowd, for he watched as her golden gaze flitted and landed, communicating plenty before moving on.

  “Sheriff Rose,” she said, certainty echoing in her voice, “rescued me.”

  She clutched his shoulder and her touch communicated more than a need for balance. She offered far more support than she took. Warmth seeped through his jacket, vest, and shirt, right along with the pressure of her little hand.

  His heart slid sideways.

  “He risked life and limb, and found me at dark, more than an hour’s ride from home. No one expected him to keep searching, not in the dark. If he’d turned back—”

  Emotion stole her voice. He settled a hand over hers where she clutched his shoulder.

  “If he’d turned back, I would not have lived through the night.” Noelle let that statement rest heavily over the group, let it sink in. “I trust his judgment. I trust him.”

  Gus couldn’t help the swelling in his chest at her words. Amazing how her confidence in him made all the difference.

  …to this temperamental crowd.

  …to his battered self-worth.

  A feminine touch settled low on his back—and Gus flinched. That wayward hand did not belong to Noelle. Who?

  He glanced over his shoulder to find frisky Miss Belle Talmadge leaning close. “I’m rooting for you too.”

  He appreciated the sentiment, but her touch made his skin crawl. If he had anywhere to go in the press of people, he’d step away. She stood far too close.

  “Not only do I trust him,” Noelle continued, “I agree with his plan. He and my father discussed this at length. And as I’ve had the unfortunate experience of spending nearly twenty-four hours at the mercy of the Ruffian Gang, my father has a vested interest in their capture and in our family’s continued safety.”

  The crowd listened to Noelle. Listened. And remained respectfully silent.

  In that moment, against every notion he’d carried in his aching heart for fifteen long years, he could picture this woman, Noelle Finlay, in his home. In his heart. Building a life and a family with her.

  Why had it taken a crisis for him to see what had been right there, for a full year?

  Just beyond Noelle, flirtatious Miss Virginia Abbott met his eye and wanted, obviously, to hold his attention. Gus rolled his shoulder as if dislodging a pesky fly, but Miss Talmadge kept her hand on his back. Slowly, she dragged her palm lower until it rested on his waist.

  He shuddered and nearly spun in place to manacle her wrists in irons.

  No doubt she believed her parents couldn’t see her forward behavior, and, with the press of bodies, no one else could, either.

  Gus tossed a hostile glare over his shoulder. Miss Talmadge’s eyes merely rounded with exaggerated, innocent surprise.

  “Likewise,” Noelle said, drawing Gus’s attention once more, “I’m certain you feel the same way about your families. Listen to him. Listen to the well-prepared plan he fashioned. If we work together, we’ll come through this safely.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gus hadn’t been so wrung dry since the day Effie had chosen Luke. What a slap upside the head that had been.

  Today, with most of the town doubting his capacity to do his job, heaped with his own self-recriminations, this day ranked even darker than the miserable Christmas he’d said goodbye to the
love of his life.

  It’d take a miracle to get through this.

  “Sheriff?” Miss Belle Talmadge touched his elbow. Even through his coat sleeve, her grip felt invasive, too much. Not at all like Noelle’s touch.

  The young woman had made a pest of herself over the last year. Initially, when she’d started bringing in picnic hampers filled with lunchtime meals and goodies, he’d been flattered. Just days after he’d lost Effie, he’d needed the bolster to his flagging spirits. The attention had quickly become a nuisance.

  “Miss Talmadge.” He turned back to searching the snow-swept landscape surrounding the Finlay home. He’d braced both arms wide, resting on the porch railing. He’d needed air.

  Even now, some families piled back into sleighs, saying their goodbyes.

  He ought to head out back and find a bit of peace and quiet, keep an eye on the periphery. In all the commotion of people coming and going, the gang could easily slip back in. Anxiety formed a knot in his belly.

  “Sheriff, my parents and I wish to extend an invitation for you to join us for supper.”

  Of all people, this one ought to understand. “I can’t accept invitations now. You understand.”

  “Well, you do need to eat.” She stepped nearer until she stood unbearably close. “You and Daddy could talk through everything. He was sheriff for, well, forever.”

  “I’ll pass. Sorry.”

  “Ah, Gus. You know you need Daddy’s advice and direction.”

  She’d turn into a shrew if she didn’t watch herself. “The case takes precedence.”

  She stuck out her lower lip, pouting in a way she must’ve practiced in the mirror. Pouting women had never been his weakness. He turned his attention back to the jumble of sleighs still hitched and waiting in the front yard.

  “You haven’t called on me in weeks.” With her arm still about his waist, she snuggled up into his side. By darned if she didn’t press her bosom to his arm.

  Little minx.

  He shrugged her off, but she wouldn’t take the hint. “No, Miss, I haven’t.”

  “Call me Belle.”