Loving the Lawman (Roses of Ridgeway) (4 page)

That drew a gasp from her lips. Pleased with himself, he released her hand and slipped away from her without another word.

He located Gregory near the table, sipping a tumbler of lemonade. He joined his buddy there. "Greg. Why don't you take a look at Miss Valerie now."

They both looked and found her standing in the same spot, looking rather confounded.

Gregory looked impressed. "You got her attention, yes. But let's see how far you can really take this thing. If you can convince her to court you in the next two weeks, I'll take all of your weekend patrols for a month."

"You sound very confident that I'll fail, but I accept." He folded his arms across his chest, squaring off to let Gregory know he wasn't intimidated.

"Folks will talk, you know." Greg held his gaze.

He didn't flinch. "I don't give a damn."

"Don't you want to know what you'll owe me if you fail?"

Noah shook his head. "There's no need. I won't fail." He moved toward the door, and perched his beige Stetson back atop his head. "See you after my afternoon patrol." Not looking back, but pretty sure of Gregory's expression anyway, he swung the door open and strode out into the early afternoon sunshine.

As the cool of evening set in, Valerie pushed her potatoes and meatloaf around her plate. Ever since her encounter with the sheriff, her stomach had been filled with flapping butterflies. Though she loved her mother's well seasoned meatloaf, tonight she had about as much of an appetite as a picky toddler.

Her father, Bernard, had retired to the parlor with his pipe and a book of Tennyson poems, so only she and her mother remained at the table.

"What's the matter, cupcake?" Doris eyed her with concern. "I've never known you to turn down my meatloaf."

With a long sigh, she put her fork down. "I'm sorry, Mama. It's not your food—it's as delicious as always."

Doris didn't press, she simply watched and waited, as was her way.

"I have a bit of an odd problem." She looked down in her lap, wondering how her mother would react to what she was about to say. "The sheriff has made a rather insistent declaration to court me."

In response, Doris broke into a bright smile and clapped her hands together. "Problem? This is a blessing! It's just what we've been waiting for!"

Valerie's head dropped even lower between her shoulders. "We both know it's not that simple."

The unspoken truth passed between them, and Doris' exuberance cooled. "Valerie, I know you feel badly about not being able to carry, but that's not all there is to a marriage."

She cringed as the pain of her situation stung her once again. "I know, Mama. But the men around here don't seem to care much about anything else. They all want a woman who can bear them strong sons." She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat, tears welling in her eyes. "They want a whole woman, Mama. A real woman."

Doris rose from her seat and circled the table. Leaning low, she wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "You are as much woman as me, or Prissy, or any other female in this town, and don't you forget it. I know this is difficult for you, but I think you should give Sheriff Rogers a chance."

She let herself be enfolded in her mother's embrace, and let the tears fall. "I just don't want to be hurt again. Remember Rupert Barnes?" He was the last man she'd courted far enough to let him know of her condition, and he'd turned tail and ran for the hills so fast he'd left a trail of smoke behind him.

Doris tightened her hold. "Oh, come now. We both know the sheriff is nothing like that spineless Rupert character. His mama had such a hold on him, I'm surprised she didn't lead him about on a leash." She stood, whipped out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket, and wiped her daughter's tear streaked face. "Don't run him off, Valerie. He may be just the man you need."

She nodded, doing her best to accept her mother's words. Doris had given her sound advice her entire life, and Valerie knew she had her best interests in mind. There was no good reason not to take her mother's advice—only her own fear held her back.

She drew a deep breath, filling her lungs to calm her frazzled nerves. "Alright, Mama. I promise I'll give him a chance."

Doris smiled and squeezed her cheek. "I'm glad to hear it, cupcake. Now are you going to eat?"

Valerie nodded and picked up her fork. She was almost thirty, and talking to her mother always made her feel better. "Yes. I've gotten my appetite back, thanks to you."

Planting a brief kiss on her forehead, Doris left Valerie alone in the kitchen. In the silence, she finished the savory meatloaf and buttery potatoes, and considered a future as Mrs. Noah Rogers. What would it be like to be the wife of a lawman? She supposed he'd work long hours, and be called away from home at a moment's notice. A man like him would require a truly dedicated wife, one who could deal with the constant demands others would place on his time.

Of course, she might never get that far with him. He had to be the kind of man who could accept her inability to give him babies. She didn't know how he would react to the news, but she would eventually have to tell him. If he turned out to be the kind of man who could accept her barrenness, she'd be as faithful and loving a wife as he could ever dream of.

The sheriff was a handsome man; she'd have to be either oblivious or blind not to see that. That muscular build, the brilliant blue eyes, and the golden blond hair that just grazed his jawline added up to a picture of rugged male beauty. Being his wife would no doubt make her the envy of every sighted woman between here and Boston.

If he turned away from her, though, she didn't think she would ever get over it. Another rejection would likely do her in, and cause her to give up on the idea of marriage, and settle into life as a spinster.

She washed her plate in the basin, and placed it back in the rack with its kin. Her mind still reeling with all the possibilities of a relationship with the sheriff, she wandered down the hall toward her bedroom.

**

Fanning his hand of cards in front of himself, Noah wanted to groan. Instead, he kept his face impassive. Part of the art of poker was being able to maintain the perfect bluff, and he'd perfected his over the years since he'd first learned the game as a hotheaded youth. Just because his hand wasn't worth a pile of horse pies, didn't mean his buddies had to know.

Around the table in the Crazy Eights saloon sat his regular poker mates—Roderick Emerson, the town's main architect, Thaddeus Stern, the only child of the Mayor and his wife, and Ricardo Benigno, the Spanish sea captain turned farmer. The men alternated with two others, Gregory, and young Uriah Stevens, whose mother Eulah served as the town's undertaker, but there were always four of them present at the table for every game.

It was nearing four o'clock, the time they usually ended things so they could clear out before the undesirables moved in. After five, the place would be swimming with lumber workers, farmers, and day laborers who often imbibed too much, and well-dressed card sharps out to separate folks from their hard earned money.

This was the last hand, and Noah was determined to make his friends think he had the best hand a man could get. With all the confidence of someone holding a full house, he scooped up a handful of chips and pushed them toward the center of the table. "I'm in for forty dollars."

Thaddeus, the youngest man present, gave the same wide-eyed look he always displayed when he was being outgunned at the card table. His tell made his decision obvious even before he spoke the words. "I fold."

All eyes turned to Rod Emerson, who casually smoked his pipe as if he hadn't a care in the world. With the cards fanned in his right hand, he slipped the pipe from his lips with his left, just long enough to say, "I'm in." He scuttled his chips toward the pile.

Ricardo, his eyes narrowed as if deep in thought, pursed his lips. "Hmmm. The sea is a harsh mistress, but the hand of fate can be even harsher."

Noah glanced his way. "I'm assuming you fold, Captain?"

Running a broad hand through his dark, wavy hair, Ricardo sighed and laid his cards down. "I'm out, gentleman."

Rod Emerson removed his pipe from his lips, setting it on the table. He lay his cards face down on the table, and hooked his thumbs behind his red suspenders, gliding them up and down. "It's just you and me, Sheriff. Ready to show your hand?"

Recognizing Rod's attempt at intimidating him, Noah gave him a half smile. "Why not show yours first, Emerson?" He leaned back in the chair, propping his boots up on the table. "I got nothing but time."

Rod cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Well, when a hands this good, I don't need to rush to show it." He sat back as well, and folded his big arms across his chest.

Noah shook his head, never taking his eyes off his opponent. "Sounds to me like you're full of bluster. Why don't you just admit defeat now, before I go home with more of your coin that I'm already about to take?"

The mask fell from Rod's face like a flimsy corset fell off a woman's bosom. With a heavy sigh, he laid his cards down. "Dash it all to hell, I fold."

A grinning Noah removed his feet from the table and leaned forward to gather up the $150 he'd just won. As he swept the poker chips into the canvas satchel he kept just for that purpose, Thaddeus spoke up.

"So, what did you have, anyway?"

"Must have been a full house, as cocky as he was." Ricardo folded his arms behind his head and waited for an answer.

All his chips collected, Noah shook his head. One by one, he flipped the cards over. "Actually, I only had two pair." He stood from the table and pushed his chair up. "Nice playing with you fellows, as always."

The table erupted into grumbling, but none as loud as Rod Emerson's. "You're the spawn of Sam Hill for sure, Sheriff. I had a straight flush!"

Noah chuckled as he walked away. "A good bluff is a powerful tool, gentlemen." While the other men continued to complain about the crushing defeat, he went to the bar to cash in his chips. Once he had the bills in his wallet and tucked away in his vest pocket, he headed for the door. There, he replaced his hat on his head, tipped it, and bid his companions a good evening.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, but it was still a good couple of hours until sunset. He thought of the bold declaration he'd made yesterday to Miss Valerie, and decided he'd pay her a visit. On a Tuesday evening, he knew he was likely to find her at the library. She was an avid reader, a trait he could appreciate in a woman. He'd had his share of encounters with empty-headed women, whose only intelligent thoughts involved how they should style their hair.

He headed up the walk spanning Founder's Avenue, until he came to the intersection of with Town Road. Passing the open doors of the Taylor Hotel, he crossed the road and entered the library, which sat on the opposite corner, facing south.

Inside, a few folks were milling about, searching the shelves for some volume or other. He scanned the space as he tucked his hat beneath his arm. In the sitting area near the door, a young woman sat, quietly reading to a small child perched on her lap. He smiled, thinking of how he'd like to see a similar scene taking place in his own home one day—his beautiful wife reading to his strapping young son.

He waved a greeting to the librarian, Miss Parker, and made his way toward the farthest shelf, which stood against the back wall. There, with her graceful hand extended toward a book that was much too high for her to reach, was the lovely Miss Valerie.

He was looking at her back, but he recognized her petite frame instantly. As he neared her, he took in the sight of her womanly shape, clad in a midnight blue skirt, soft blue blouse, and one of those tiny-netted hats she favored so much. Though she was dressed for modesty, as any proper lady of society would be, the clothes did little to obscure the shapely feminine curves of her body. The flare of her hips was like a siren's song to him, and it was all he could manage not to lick his lips as he entered her space.

As if sensing him there, she made a slow turn in his direction. Her eyes cast downward in a coy way that put fire in his blood, she acknowledged him. "Why, Sheriff. I didn't see you there. Hello."

He gazed down at her, and couldn't decide which trait was more bewitching—her play at being shy, the dark fan of lashes spanning her wide eyes, or the pert breasts on display beneath that demure ruffled blouse of hers. "Evenin' Miss Valerie. Seems you could use some assistance."

"I could." As she made the quiet admission, she finally looked up at him, her brown eyes connecting with his eyes. "I was reaching for that volume of love poems there. The one that says Browning on the spine." She pointed up to the book she wanted, extending a slender, long boned finger.

He let his gaze shift away from her long enough to locate the tome, then took it from the shelf. Holding it, he read the title aloud. "Sonnets from the Portuguese. Sounds interesting." He passed the book into her waiting hands.

She clasped it to her chest and gushed, "I've been waiting for the last person who checked it out to turn it in so I could read it. I hear it's quite a collection." The light in her eyes and the contentment in her voice conveyed her excitement at getting her hands on it.

While the way she held the book obscured his view of the swell of her chest, he loved the exuberance she displayed. It was akin to that which most women might display over a new dress or an expensive bauble. It pleased him to know Valerie's mind was likely as well-rounded as her figure.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" He watched her face, waiting.

She shook her head. "No, I already have our book club selection to read aside from this one."

As she turned toward the desk where the librarian sat, he staid her with a light touch on the arm. "I know I was a bit crass yesterday, but I hope you understand that I mean to court you, if you'll have me."

The shy look that set him ablaze crossed her face again. Then she raised up on her toes, and beckoned him down with a finger. He stooped, and she cupped a hand to his ear. The words she whispered to him were as sweet as anything he'd ever heard in his life. "I'll have you, Sheriff." Her secret disclosed, she stepped back and walked away, gliding toward the librarian.

Feeling his lips stretch into a broad grin, he strolled to the doorway and took up a post there, leaning against the east wall while she made her transaction. He noticed the smiling and tittering she did with Miss Parker, and shook his head in amusement. Things like that were inherent to females regardless of age, at least as far as he could tell. As long as she was smiling, he was fine with it.