Loving the Lawman (Roses of Ridgeway) (2 page)

“I hereby call this meeting of the Ridgeway Ladies' Society to order.”

Hearing the dry, monotonous voice of Ella Stern, Valerie ceased her conversation with Lilly Benigno and faced forward. The women of the society were gathered in Lilly's den, as they did every
Saturday evening.

Ella waited until she had everyone's attention, then spoke again. “Let's begin with old business. Mrs. Chase, can you report on that please?”

Prudence Chase, wife of the minister Derrick Chase, also served as secretary for the society. She stood from her seat, revealing her full height of nearly six feet, and read from a few sheaves of paper in her hand. “Well, we've collected twenty-five blankets so far to send to the Mount Saint Mary's Orphanage in Grass Valley, and we'll finish our knitting this evening, bringing the grand total to thirty blankets.”

That drew a smattering of applause from the small group.

Hearing of the donation to the orphanage brought her a wonderful sense of accomplishment. Run by Mother Mary Baptist Russell and the Sisters of Mercy, the orphanage had begun taking in children back in '66, and was the only orphanage in the entire state of California. She sincerely hoped the blankets would bring plenty of warmth to the sisters' young charges. Since she'd learned of her barrenness, she'd thought of adopting a child from Mount Saint Mary's. However, without a husband, such a thing would be improper, and not in the best interest of the child.

“Also, we have raised seventy-five dollars toward the fund to expand the schoolhouse. I turned the money over to my father this afternoon, and he says it will go far in purchasing more supplies. He and his crewmen will start the work after school lets out for the year.” Prudence took her seat.

“Thank you, Mrs. Chase.” Ella turned her eyes on Lilly. “Mrs. Benigno, may we have the treasury report?”

Lilly stood dutifully. “With the interest earned last month, we have a total of three hundred six dollars, seventy-two cents in our account at Ridgeway Savings and Loan.”

“Good.” Ella gestured to Valerie. “Then I'll turn things over to our vice president. Miss Ridgeway, if you please.” Ella took a seat in the circle of chairs as Valerie stood and went to the center.

Standing there, she looked out over the faces of the women around her. All were her trusted friends save for the less than jovial Ella Stern. Prissy, the straightforward one. Lilly, the sweet one. Prudence, the serious one. She loved them all like the sisters she'd never had. But lately, she hadn't seen as much of Lilly and Prudence, since they were both busy with husbands and children. Lilly's son Leo was three years old, and Prudence's daughter, Chloe Grace, was nearly two. She knew they were busy, and she didn't begrudge them their families. But sometimes, being with them hurt, as they served as constant reminders of the family she'd never have.

Clearing her throat, she spoke. “Thank you, Mrs. Stern. And let me say that I hope the mayor has a full and speedy recovery from that unfortunate coach accident.”

Arms folded across her chest, Ella nodded tersely. “He'll be fine, the stubborn old goat.”

Lilly stifled a giggle.

Valerie raised a hand to her mouth to cover her smile. “Well, then. This week, we've selected Mark Twain's book T
he Prince and the Pauper
for our reading. Prissy has checked out copies for all of us, and we'll begin discussion on it in two weeks.” She paused, glancing in Ella's direction for the inevitable objection to the book selection, but Ella only frowned. “Is there any new business to cover?”

Prudence raised her hand. “We've had a few membership inquiries.”

She nodded. “Let them know of the dues, and tell them they are welcome to join us. Anyone else?”

Lilly spoke next. “I know it really isn't society business, but my seamstress shop should be ready to open in a few weeks time. Ricardo and I have been working on it day and night.”

Valerie smiled. “Of course it's society business. We're all terribly happy for you.”

The patter of footsteps sounded on the wooden floor, followed by the cooing of a small voice.

"Mama!"

All eyes turned toward the sound. There, at the bottom of the staircase, stood little Leo Benigno. Dressed in his tiny blue nightshirt and clutching a stuffed doll, he looked every bit as cherubic and sweet as a child could look. Valerie felt her heart melting as she gazed into his tear damp brown eyes. "Mama! Sleep with you!"

Lilly stood. "Leo, what are you doing out of bed, baby?"

"Sleep with you," he insisted again, his free hand reaching out to clutch her skirt.

The smiling Lilly shook her head, smiling. "Sorry, ladies. I'll have to cut the meeting short. He's so starved for attention lately."

"Where's Ricardo?" Prudence asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Still not back from selling produce to the market in Oakland." Lilly cradled her chubby son to her chest and kissed the top of his curly head. "I'll have to get him settled, or he'll be up all night."

Watching her friend hold her child, Valerie felt a lump of emotion forming in her throat. No child would ever seek comfort at her bosom, and knowing that had shattered a part of her heart. Each day, the burden of being barren seemed to grow harder and harder to bear. Only Prissy, the closest of her friends, knew her secret shame.

Covering her hand with her mouth, she snatched up her purse with the other hand. Ignoring the calls of her friends, she was out the door and in the saddle as fast as she could manage. Clicking her heels into the mare's sides and tugging the reins, she galloped off into the night. As she rode, she let the rippling wind dry the tears of sadness streaming down her cheeks.

***

Noah carried his wooden chair out onto the walk in front of the sheriff’s office and set it down. It was a humid evening, and he figured his overnight shift on duty would be more comfortable if he spent some time outdoors, enjoying the night breeze. Once the chair was in place, he sat and leaned back, propping his feet on the overturned half of a barrel he used as his footstool.

Easing his cigar out of pocket of his leather jacket, he fished around in the pocket for a match. Once he had it in hand, he used his pocket knife to slice off the end. Then he struck it against one of the bricks surrounding the doorjamb, lit the cigar, and settled back for an evening of watching the stream of drunken idiots who would soon stagger out of the Crazy Eights saloon. It was his job to keep them out of trouble, and to see that they made their way home without endangering anyone in the process.

Ridgeway was mainly a quiet town, save for the occasional bar brawl, or privy tipping by some nary-do-well youngster. He liked to think that he and his deputy, Gregory Simmons, had a hand in keeping things relatively peaceful for the citizens. Eyes trained on the swinging doors of the saloon, which was across the street about a block to the east of him, he waited.

The sound of pounding hooves caught his attention, and he let his gaze shift to follow the sound. The rider was approaching from the east, and coming in fast. He dropped his feet to the floor, in case he needed to get up.

Moments later, the female rider streaked by him. Her gender was given away by her billowing skirts, lifted by the breeze she was kicking up.  She slowed only to turn her horse into the narrow alley running next to the mercantile.

Wondering if she might be some newfangled female outlaw, coming to rob the store, he stood from his seat and removed his Colt from the holster on his hip. He ran across the street and slipped into the alleyway, his gun poised. With his back against the building, he sidled closer to the rear, where he'd seen the rider going.

He peered cautiously around the corner ...

And came face to face with Valerie Ridgeway. Her lips were pursed tight, and her face was streaked with wetness, as if she'd been crying.

"Why on Earth are you following me, Sheriff? Don't you know all the real troublemakers are at the saloon?"

He lowered his weapon, and relaxed, but only a bit. Her tone was far less than cordial. "When I saw you riding through town like the very hounds of hell were on your tail, I thought I'd better look into it. Besides, I didn't know it was you."

Sour look on her beautiful face, she folded her arms over her chest. "Well, now you do, so go on back to your office."

He shook his head. Where was the docile creature he'd seen earlier today, looking up at him like he was an Adonis? He much preferred that version of Valerie. "You've been crying. Are you all right?"

She nodded, wiping at her cheeks with a delicate hand. "I'm fine."

He was no expert at female moods, not by any stretch, but something told him she wasn't being honest. Something was bothering her; she just didn't care to share it with him. With that in mind, he stepped back, tipped his hat to her. "Then I'll take my leave. Evenin', Miss Ridgeway."

She gave him a terse nod, and opened her mouth.

Before she could dismiss him, two gunshots disrupted the silence.

He turned, jogging away. He figured those ruffians at the saloon were disagreeing over a hand of poker or some such nonsense, so he headed in that direction.

As he turned the corner, he could see that the commotion was not coming from the saloon.

At the end of Founder's Avenue, he could just make out a rider on horseback, leaving town at a full gallop.

In the middle of the street stood Henry Carl, the livery owner, shouting. "Sheriff! Come quick!"

Noah sprinted down the road until he arrived next to the old man. "What's going on?"

"Bandits! Just made off with two of my best stallions." Carl, a hothead by nature, snatched off his straw hat and tossed it down in the dirt. "You gotta go after 'em, sheriff!"

"Calm down, Carl. Who fired, them or you?"

"I did! I think I clipped one of 'em." Carl shook his head, looking defeated. "I need my stallions back, Noah."

He shook his head, both at Carl's expression, and at his declaration. "It's late, Carl. It'll be morning before I can get a posse together and ready to ride."

Carl huffed like a locomotive. "Can't you just take your deputy and ride out?"

He rolled his eyes. "And what if they come back while we're gone? Or some other varmints show up? Who would protect the townsfolk if we're both gone?"

Carl let out a resigned sigh. "Guess I'm just going to have to let my stallions go." With his eyes cast downward, he trudged back into the livery, letting the heavy oak door slam behind him.

Standing there in the street, Noah cursed aloud. This brazen horse theft left him wondering if the peace he and the citizens of Ridgeway had always enjoyed was about to be shattered.

He turned on his heel and stalked back up the street toward his office, his fists clenched at his sides. For the six years he'd been sheriff, he'd eschewed hobbies, drink, and women, in hopes of keeping Ridgeway as safe as it could possibly be. Now, bandits were coming into town, stealing from innocent citizens, and with only one deputy, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. Sure, he could have rushed off half-cocked and gone after the critters himself, but who knew what type of danger he'd be walking into? He'd likely be out-manned and out-gunned. No, despite the frustration that made him want to punch something, he knew he'd made the right decision. Come morning, he'd have Gregory round up a small posse and send them after the horse thieves.

He returned to his seat in the chair, taking in the night around him. The oil lamps mounted on poles at the intersection of Town Road and Founder's Avenue were lit, and they illuminated the entrance to the Taylor Hotel. The only other lights he could see were the ones form the lamps burning inside the saloon. There was no one on the streets, since it was nearly ten. The only movement he saw were a few fallen leaves being blown down the walk by a chilly breeze. He watched them in sullen silence as they tumbled by.

Tipping his head back, he focused on the starry night sky and tried to clear his mind. Strangely enough, the first image he saw was of the town darling, Miss Valerie Ridgeway. She was an odd female, always flitting about in fancy gowns and frothy hats. She had a habit of reading in front of the hotel, or in the lobby during the colder months- he'd noticed her doing it many times during his patrols. He'd also noticed that she wasn't sweet and coy with the men in town, the way a woman of her breeding ought to be. Rather than flirting or bantering with men, she seemed annoyed by their very presence. He'd never spoken to her at length, and the today’s two encounters with her represented their most extensive interaction to date. She'd been so docile and pliable as she'd sat in the saddle of his horse, her petite frame against his. But the snapping turtle he'd encountered when he went to check on her this evening was more in line with the way he'd seen her act from a distance.

What was it about her that drew his attention? She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Bronze skin, long dark hair, and a feminine figure- with a sweeter disposition, any man would consider her marriage material. Why was she so ornery, anyhow?

He groaned aloud. There was not time to be musing about Valerie and what made her tick. His time would be better spent figuring out what he needed to do to deter thieves and other varmints from sullying his town with their presence.