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The air in the crowded coach was stifling. Catherine waved the fan harder, willing the coach to start moving again soon. She was pressed between a matronly woman in blue and a very smelly businessman who had spent the last fifteen miles trying to explain to her the dangers of frontier life for a single woman. She hoped he wasn’t working up to a proposal. It wasn’t the type of memory she wanted for her second one. Her first one was a poor enough memory.
“...so the woman that I marry will be well off, once I get my business rolling. I just need a few...”
The coach titled slightly as the large woman leaned forward, a menacing look on her face. “Will you stop bothering this poor girl! She is too polite to tell you to shut up, but I’m not.”
The businessman stared wide eyed in unbelief for a few seconds before sputtering a response, “Well... I never...”
“Now you have, so be quiet. She’s not giving you money and she is not going to marry you either.”
Catherine mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to the woman, who smiled and patted her leg. “If he bothers you any more I’ll have him thrown off the coach. He can walk back.”
The man sputtered for a moment more, and then fell abruptly silent as the woman glared one last time. Satisfied, she sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Turning her head slightly to hide her smile, Catherine continued to wave the fan, angling it slightly to give the woman some of the breeze.
Just then the coach finally started to move. Catherine couldn’t believe how long it was taking to get to her sister’s town. Her sister had moved west several years ago with her husband, Theodore, and set up a home in the middle of nowhere. Theodore’s brother had come up with a grand idea to start a town, so they pooled their money and started one centered around a store. They named their town Cobbinsville, after Theodore and Frederick’s last name, Cobbins. She had laughed at the name when her sister’s letter had arrived explaining how they founded a town. It seemed kind of... conceited, to give a town your own name.
The town was founded anyway, and had been for a couple of years. Fred died last winter, so now it was Ted’s, and her sister Elizabeth’s, of course.
She hoped the ride wouldn’t take much longer. She had never had to ride this long to go anywhere back east. Closing her eyes, she wondered what all of her friends thought of her leaving. After Alfred had been arrested for stealing from his work she had been so ashamed. Breaking off their engagement hadn’t been enough, she had to leave town.
When Elizabeth’s letter had arrived and mentioned her coming out, it had seemed like a wonderful opportunity.
The stage jolted violently, throwing the passengers against each other.
“Sorry,” The teamster hollered from outside. “Rock in the trail.”
Straightening herself in her seat, Catherine had to roll her eyes. Some wonderful opportunity; the chance to get thrown into smelly sweaty people on a 12 hour stage ride.
The teamster’s voice sounded out again, “Town’s ahead, people. About ten more minutes.”
Relieved, she sat a tad straighter. She couldn’t wait to see her sister.
******************
JAMES CLICKED HIS TONGUE, urging the horse to move a little faster. It was hot out. He could feel the sweat running down his back as he rode, and couldn’t wait to get out of the sun.
He had been riding all morning. The Church was planning a social that was coming up in a few weeks, and Parson Stone had put him on the committee. He hated committees, almost as much as he hated riding a few hours to get a simple question answered. He had to run all the way out to Parson’s ranch to ask about music.
He pulled his kerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from his face. It didn’t matter, it had been a good visit, and he was almost back to town anyway. He had a nice gourd full of cool water hanging in his office, waiting for him to drink.
He liked his job. He had grown up in this area; his Pa had come west and settled here in the 1830’s, back when it was empty and desolate. When he was growing up the nearest town had been Grover, a few dozen miles south of his Pa’s ranch. When the railroad planned to put the tracks over fifty miles north, the town just died, and people moved away.
Cobbinsville was started by Fred and Ted Cobbins a few years ago while he was off fighting the war. They hadn’t cared about becoming a thriving metropolis; they just wanted a nice place to live.
It was just that; a nice, quiet place to live with no real problems. He liked being a lawman here. Ted Cobbins ran the general store, and Maude Evans ran the restaurant next door. No saloons, no drunken cowboys firing shots at the citizens, or anything like that.
And now they finally had a Church.
They had only finished the Church building last month. Most of the local families had chipped in time and labor to get it finished after they had offered Parson Stone to take the pulpit.
He had known Parson Stone since the war. They fought in the same company from ’61 until the Battle for Atlanta in ’64. He’d lost track of the Parson after being shot, and eventually ended up being sent home to recover.
Things had been difficult for him at home though. The war ended not long after he got back, so he tried to put it all behind him. There were too many memories of the war though, bad memories that the quiet of home didn’t cover up. One day he mounted up his horse and drifted south through Colorado and New Mexico, then across through Arizona before making it back home. He had worked here and there, trying to stay busy enough so the memories could have time to fade. He’d finally found his calling after hiring on as a deputy in a little Spanish town called ‘Las Placitas del Rio Bonito’ in New Mexico. He always thought the name was funny, meaning something about a town by a river being pretty or some such nonsense. He’d enjoyed working there for a few years, until a ‘businessman’ began cheating people out of their money and land. That was about the time they finally changed the name of the place to something he could spell, Lincoln.
James sighed at the memory. He’d enjoyed enforcing the law, but since the businessman... he frowned as he tried to remember the man’s name. Murphy. Lawrence Murphy.
He nodded to himself, pretty sure that was his name. Since Murphy had political connections, He was protected from the law hindering his endeavors. Not that the Sheriff of that town was too interested in hindering him, considering the kickbacks he was getting paid. He had no interest in taking bribes, so he turned in his badge, and started heading for home.
When he finally made his way home, the town offered him the job as Sheriff. It was right after that that Parson Stone had also moved to the area and ended up marrying Widow Stanton.
He topped out on a hill that overlooked the town. Sighing, he tugged the reins, and pulled the horse to a stop as he looked out over the valley.
Yeah, he was happy here now. Even in the quiet.
Movement in the distance caught his eye. He could see dust rising off the trail; probably the stage coming in.
Nudging his horse, he began moving down the hill toward town.
******************
CATHERINE STRETCHED as she stepped out of the stage. Her entire body ached from the long ride and cramped quarters.
“Excuse me.”
She moved out of the way as the smelly businessman pushed past her and stood in the street looking around. “Where’s the saloon? I need to get a drink.”
“No saloon in this town mister, but we got about fifteen minutes while we change horses if you want a bite in the restaurant,” The teamster spoke from the top of the stage where he was untying her trunk.
“No saloon?” The businessman whined.
Catherine struggled to remember his name, Carver or something...
“Catherine?”
She turned at the familiar voice, squealing as she recognized her sister. “Elizabeth!” She rushed forward, almost tripping on the stairs as her dress caught on the rough wood of the step.
Her sister caught her in a tight hug before stepping back, “Let me look at you! You’ve changed so much!”
Laughing, Catherine stepped back and curtsied, “Yep, all grown up now.” Her smile faded a bit as she looked around at the town. “This place is... smaller than I thought.”
Elizabeth beamed, “It’s small, but it grows on you.”
“Can we hurry this up?”
They looked up, the teamster had Catherine’s large trunk balanced awkwardly on the edge of the coach. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Let me get someone...” She opened the door to the store, and yelled in, “Teddy! Can you come out and help with Catherine’s bags?”
Catherine stood on the edge of the boardwalk eyeing the town critically. There wasn’t much to it; the building they were in front of was a front for two businesses; the store and... she leaned to the side to get a better look at the sign... a restaurant. There were a few houses on either side. Turning, she looked across the street. A solitary building stood across the street. It was a squat, ugly building that was easy to recognize by the bars over the window. It was the jail.
Further down the street was a large barn with a corral. A man was leading some horses from the barn, evidently to switch out with the stages. She wiped her face with her handkerchief; it was hot out here.
“Ah, Sheriff Matthews, it’s good to see you! This is my sister, Catherine...”
Catherine turned; a man was talking with Elizabeth. He was tall. He stood a good foot higher than her 5’1” and his clothes were soaked with sweat. He smiled, taking his hat off, and bowing slightly.
“Ma’am, nice to meet you.” He offered his hand.
Smiling sweetly, she stepped forward, taking his hand. He gripped hers tightly; her eyes widened at the firm grip.
“I’ve known your sister for a bit. Good to meet you. You gonna be here for a while?”
Catherine blinked back the tears. He needed a bath, badly. She wondered absently if all men out west smelled this bad. “Yes, for... a time.” She smiled again, stepping back, “I just need to get my trunk...” she was looking for any reason to step away from this smelly... she glanced at the badge on his chest... Sheriff.
“Oh, I’ll get that.” He stepped forward, following her down the steps.
She hurried down, intending to grab the trunk from the teamster. She was surely strong enough; she had hauled it from the train to the stage in Laramie after all. She reached for it as the teamster started to let it down, “I’ve got it.”
“Ma’am, it’s awful heavy looking,” the Sheriff warned from the side.
She gripped the handle, and started to pull it from the teamster. “No, it’s not...” she broke off as she got the full weight of the trunk. She reeled backwards, fighting for balance as the heavy trunk came down hard, striking the sheriff in the side of the head as they both fell to the ground.
“Oh my goodness!” Elizabeth exclaimed from the boardwalk. “Are you all right?”
Catherine sat up, embarrassed, as she tried to get up from the ground. Her dress was covered in dust and dirt. The teamster had jumped down, apologizing profusely. As she got up, she noticed Sheriff Matthews sitting up, blood running down the side of his face.
******************
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED this preview of Sparks of Affection. Look for it, and Flames of Endearment –Book 3, as well as Light of Devotion – Book 4. Now Available
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