Emily knew from the surprise on Gram’s face when she relayed Jesse’s message that it was not normal behavior on his part. She regretted throwing doubt on his reasons for being a sheriff. Her only excuse was that to think of him facing such a risk left her mouth desert dry and her bones weak.
Especially on her behalf.
She didn’t deserve it. He’d rescued her once, but she had no desire to see him shot to protect her...a woman with no past and no future.
She went through all the right motions of helping serve supper, cleaning up and then preparing Mikey for the night.
When she told the boy it was time for bed, he went to the outer door, leaned his head on it and cried. Muffin whined at his feet, but he ignored the dog.
“Honey, what’s the matter?” Emily knelt beside him and tried to pull him into her arms.
He pushed her away and patted the door.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
Gram watched. “He wants to know where Jesse is. So do I. Did something happen?”
Emily studied the floor for a moment but she must own up to her actions. “We had a little spat.”
“You and Jesse? About what, if you don’t mind me asking.”
She explained about the three ruffians on the trail and how he had persuaded them to ride on. “I don’t want him to risk his life for me.”
“Exactly what did you say?”
“I accused him of trying to prove he was a good man.” She hung her head. “I know it was wrong. He is a good man and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.”
“Come sit.” Gram patted the couch beside her and waited until Emily settled. She took one of Emily’s hands. “You may be more right than you know. You struck close to a wound.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m very sorry for my hasty words.”
“You’ll have to tell him that.”
“I will.” She rolled Gram’s words round in her head. “He told me about his mother and the house of ill repute. Is that what you mean?”
“That’s part of it. He was badly hurt when people learned of her circumstances. They judged him for the way she’d lived her life. It’s made him almost rigid in the way he lives and what he expects of others. To him, life is simply black and white.”
“‘A man is only as good as his word.’ That’s what he said to me.”
“Yes. He does not forgive easily.”
She shivered. “That doesn’t sound promising for my intended apology.”
“You do what you need to do and let him work out his way of dealing with it.”
“You’re saying he might not forgive me? That will make it awkward for me to stay here.” She forced a smile to her wooden lips. “Though I hope by tomorrow I will know who I am and can get on with my life.” Surely the doctor could help her recall who she was.
“For your sake, I hope you regain your memory. As to Jesse forgiving you, all I can say is he’s dealt with hurtful things in the past and moved on to become the man he is. A strong, noble man with high ideals.”
Emily wanted to know what hurtful things, but it didn’t feel right to learn his secrets from a source other than him.
She sighed. When had life gotten so complicated?
Long before this. She jolted at the words that came to her. What did her past hold that was complicated?
She smiled. She had Mikey. But he wasn’t hers. What was to become of the poor boy while he waited for his adoptive parents?
The little guy stood with his forehead pressed to the door, his eyes closed.
“He’s going to fall asleep right there,” she whispered.
“Best take him up to bed.”
She scooped the boy into her arms. He made a sound of protest then nuzzled into her neck. He didn’t even waken as she tucked him into bed.
But she wasn’t any better than Mikey. She didn’t want to go to sleep until Jesse came home so she returned downstairs, chose a book from the shelf and sat down to read.
* * *
A light glowed from the living room. Jesse stopped in front of the house and looked at the window. Had Gram left the lamp for him or was she waiting up? He moved to the right and then the left in an attempt to see inside the house. Someone sat on the couch. It wasn’t Gram.
He rumbled his lips. He had stayed out all evening, had gone down the road and followed the tracks of the men who had stopped them. Far as he could tell, they’d continued northward. He hoped that meant they were only passing through and wouldn’t be a bother. Later, he’d taken supper at Miss Daisy’s Eatery. Her sister, Miss Dorie, waited on tables. He spent a considerable amount of time deflecting Miss Dorie’s questions as to why he chose to eat there when his Gram was two blocks away.
“She’s not sick, is she?”
“How can you hope to run a profitable business if you try and dissuade people from eating at your establishment?” He was certain he’d kept the annoyance from his voice, but Miss Dorie sniffed, refilled his coffee cup and marched away to wait on others. Who—if Jesse was honest with himself—offered her more pleasant company.
He didn’t mean to be grumpy but Emily’s accusation ground in the pit of his stomach. What made her think he needed to prove to anyone, least of all himself, that he was a good man? It didn’t even make sense.
But no amount of internal argument had settled the matter for him and now she appeared to be waiting up for him. Not many hours past he would have found the idea appealing.
Now he would have gone to his office and spent the night in the jail cell, but he’d had to sleep there on occasion and found it most uncomfortable. He wanted his own bed. Sucking in air until his lungs could hold no more, he opened the gate and strode to the door. His hand hovered above the knob for two seconds and then he threw back the door and stepped inside.
Emily jumped to her feet. “Thank goodness you’re home. I worried you might have run into trouble.”
“What sort of trouble did you have in mind?” he asked dismissively.
She faltered then answered him. “Those three men might have turned back looking for revenge for what happened this afternoon.”
He hung his hat on the hook by the door and spent several minutes pulling off his boots. Finally, with nothing more to divert him, he straightened. “You don’t need to concern yourself with me. I’m careful.”
“That’s good to hear.” She took two steps toward him.
Not about to let her say anything more to hurt him, he crossed his arms over his chest.
She read his signal and stopped. Regret drew lines from the corner of her mouth.
He had only to reach out and touch her face to rub them away. But a wall of resistance kept him from moving, even though his heart cried out to comfort her.
“Jesse, I want to apologize for what I said this afternoon. It was uncalled-for and untrue. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” She moved closer. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You’re a good, kind man and you know it as well as I do.” She rested her gentle palm on his forearm.
All resistance melted. He covered her hand with his. “The trouble is, there is truth to what you said.” He hadn’t admitted it to himself until this very moment.
“How is that?”
“I told you about my mother.”
She nodded, her eyes never shifting away, even at the awkward topic.
Finding courage in her steady gaze, he continued. “I always thought there was something wrong with me that my mother didn’t see any value in spending time with me. I only believed it more strongly when my friends mocked me. Then I met Agnes.”
Emily nodded. “You told me about Agnes.”
“I didn’t tell it all. She lived here with her family for a time. I courted her and thought she cared for me. But when I told her about my mother, she drew back. After that she refused to see me, and her family moved away a short time later. The only place where I knew people would respect me was in my role as sheriff, so you were right. Through my job I am trying to prove that I am good enough.”
Both her hands now rested on his arm, warm and steady. Not a bit of shrinking back. Perhaps that would come later. When she realized that he was a man with no known father. He’d often wondered why his mother had used the last name Hill on his birth certificate but she’d never told him.
Emily edged forward until he could smell the scented soap Annie had given her and the little-boy smell from having held Mikey.
“Who are you proving it to? Not me, despite my unfair words. Not to Gram or the Marshalls. I venture to say that anyone who knows you knows you are a good, noble, kind man. Don’t you need to believe it, too?”
He considered her words. “Not everyone would agree with you.”
“Do you need everyone’s approval?”
“I suppose not.” But to have the acceptance of a woman who would take him with his past, his present and his future would be nice. Perhaps a dream he wasn’t worthy of.
“Do you forgive me for my unkind words?” she asked.
“Of course. And forgive me for being offended.”
She pulled him toward the couch. “I’ve been reading. You have an excellent selection of titles. Have you read them all?”
“Not that novel by Jane Austen.” He pretended to shudder. “Gram reads it at least once a year and sighs repeatedly at the romance.”
Emily laughed, picked up the book she’d been reading and showed him the cover. “Guess what I’ve chosen.”
He shook his head as if distressed when he read the title, Pride and Prejudice. “Have you been sighing lots?”
She clutched the book to her bosom and sighed, her eyes merry with amusement. “It’s so romantic.” She grew serious—or, at least, she attempted to appear so—as she held the book toward him. “Jesse, you really ought to read it.”
“Would it fix what’s wrong with my life?”
“Well, it won’t help you find those bad guys who held up the stagecoach, but it will provide a little romance in your life.”
Their gazes melded. He wished he could see to the core of her being and know who she was.
He felt her searching just as deeply and held back only a portion of his thoughts. “Do I need romance?” His voice had deepened. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.
“I think we all need love and romance.” Her eyes held the color of the last blue of the sky just before the light of the sun vanished. He could almost see the flicker of sunlight behind the darkness of her irises.
“Do you need love and romance?” Would she accept it from the likes of him—a man marked and marred by the life his mother had lived?
She blinked and the moment ended. “What I need is to get my memory back and learn who I am.”
How had he forgotten that he didn’t know who she was? For all he knew, she might be married. By not taking into account a woman’s marital status, he acknowledged he wasn’t all that different from his mother. He would apologize to Emily, but she had no idea of the direction his thoughts had gone and he feared to say something that would only make Emily uncomfortable.
She laid the book aside. “I will say good-night now.”
“Sleep well.”
“I will, now that you have forgiven me.” Her smile filled him with warmth.
He listened to her footsteps on the stairs and as she walked down the hall. Her door closed with a faint click. He picked up the book and stared at the title. Pride and Prejudice. How fitting. It was the latter that marred his life. He’d developed the former to protect his heart.
His gaze drifted to the window. She’d been worried about his safety. Concerned that her words had hurt him. Apart from his grandmother and the Marshalls, who were like family to him, he’d never known that kind of caring from anyone else.
Tomorrow he would go with her to the doctor, if she would allow it, and hopefully learn how to help her regain her memory. Would knowing who she was make things easier or more complicated?
The truth shall set you free. He nodded as he recalled the scripture. It would set her free to resume her life. What would it do for him? It would surely make it possible for him to resume his life, as well. A sheriff who did his duty and guarded his heart.
He put the book on the side table and turned out the lamp. For some reason, he felt compelled to make sure the doors were firmly latched. Gram had left open one window in the kitchen to let in the cool night air and he closed it. She would complain in the morning, but Emily was right. There were men out there who would not hesitate to harm others. He couldn’t be looking for them and guarding Emily at the same time. In the morning, he would deputize Clarence and send him out to look for a man wearing silver-toed boots and a horse with an odd-shaped shoe. And anything else that might lead them to the murdering trio.
* * *
“Do you want me to go with you?” Jesse asked the next morning, as Emily nervously prepared to leave the house to visit the doctor. At his words, he watched the tension drain from her.
“I would appreciate it, but don’t you have a job to attend to?”
“I’ll look around as we go there and thus do my job at the same time.” As soon as he got the verdict from the doctor he would find Clarence and then take care of the paperwork that dogged his heels. He liked being a sheriff but didn’t much care for being his own secretary. It was part of the job, though, so he did it to the best of his ability. There were often letters from other sheriffs asking him to keep an eye out for someone. Or asking about a family that they searched for. Today he was more anxious than normal to open his mail, hoping there would be something about a missing young woman and child. Except no one would know of their circumstances. The Newmans had moved on. Whoever had sent her would think she was with them. But, sooner or later, some information would surface.
Emily turned to Gram. “Are you sure you don’t mind watching Mikey?”
Gram chuckled at the little boy and the dog playing in the backyard. “It’s a pleasure to see Muffin enjoying Mikey’s company. You two run along. We’ll do just fine together.”
Jesse steered Emily down the step to the sidewalk. “Don’t look so regretful.”
“I know she has sewing to do and I’m keeping her from it. Just as I know I am keeping you from your work.”
He tucked her arm around his elbow, liking the feeling of taking care of her. He told her about some of the letters he’d received. “So, you see, it’s my job to find lost individuals, as well.”
She increased the pressure of her hand on his forearm. “Well I’m glad I am giving you meaningful work.” Her laugh lacked mirth. “I welcome your company. I confess I am afraid.”
“Of what? Of not getting your memory back? Surely the doctor can fix that.”
“I’m as afraid of what I’ll learn about myself when my memory returns as I am that my memory won’t return.”
“You told me to believe I am a good man. I’m asking you to believe you are also a good person.”
“I’m trying. Truly I am.”
He noticed how nervously she glanced about as they crossed the street. Did she have a reason other than her loss of memory to be fearful? He hated the doubts arising within him, and yet his job and his life had taught him to be cautious.
They reached the doctor’s house and entered the office door. A young man and an older woman were already there. Jesse knew them both and they exchanged greetings.
Emily sat on a bench waiting for the doctor to call her. Her hands twisted together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. If they’d been alone he would have taken her hands between his and told her not to be afraid.
Instead, he remained standing, her tension reverberating along his nerves. He tried to imagine how it would feel not to know who he was. No doubt he, too, would wonder what sort of person he’d been. Maybe the hurtful comments others had sent his way would feel true. That must be how it was for Emily.
Doc saw the waiting woman. A few minutes later she emerged, then the doctor saw the young man.
Jesse sat at Emily’s side. “Whatever happens, you have friends here. Don’t forget that.”
She darted a glance his way. “I’m hoping they will still be my friends if I learn something awful about myself.”
“I can’t imagine there would be anything like that.”
The doctor opened the door. “Which of you is the patient?”
Emily jerked to her feet. “Me. But I want Jesse to come in, too.”
“Very well.”
They followed Doc into the examining room. Jesse looked around. Where was Albert Stevens, the young man who had become Doc’s assistant when Doc’s daughter, Kate, married Conner?
Doc saw his curiosity. “Young Stevens has gone to check on Mrs. Adams and her new baby. Now, what can I do for you, Miss Emily?”
Emily perched on the edge of the hard chair. “My memory hasn’t returned. What can you do to help?”
Jesse knew his hat would be permanently crooked if he didn’t quit twisting it, but he couldn’t make himself stop.
Doc leaned forward. “Are you having headaches?”
Emily shook her head. “I feel fine. I just need to remember who I am.”
Jesse wondered if Doc heard the way her voice trembled.
“My dear, sometimes our brain blocks something fearful or hurtful and doesn’t let us remember until we feel the danger has passed. I suspect that might be what is happening with you.” He studied her a moment, his face swathed in sympathy. “Do you experience fear or perhaps sorrow?”
She blinked rapidly as if keeping tears back.
Jesse wanted nothing so much as to take her hands and comfort her.
Her voice crackled as she answered the doctor. “I worry I might not like who I am. I wonder if I’ve done something awful. I feel nameless fears.”
Doc considered her answer for a moment. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you anything to help you remember but I can suggest a few things you can do.”
Jesse caught his breath, heard Emily do the same as they waited for Doc’s recommendations.
“First, realize your fears might be false. Our brain can do strange things to us. So can our hearts. The Bible says ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.’ In part, that means what we tell ourselves is not always true. Second, stop trying to remember. Go out, visit people, do fun things. Live as normal a life as you can. I believe doing so will make your brain relax. And last, but by far not least, trust the good Lord.” He came around the desk and patted Emily’s shoulder. “He has good things planned for you.”
Emily nodded. “I feel like that man in the Bible who said, ‘I do believe; help my unbelief.’”
“Keep praying that and you’ll do just fine.”
“Will my memory ever return?” she asked.
“I can’t say. But I know you can’t wish it back or force it back.” He patted her shoulder again.
She slowly got to her feet. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“I wish I could be of more help.”
Jesse led the way out of the doctor’s office. They fell in side by side. He guessed she was as unsettled by the doctor’s words as he. Trusting God wasn’t always easy. And relaxing when it was the last thing one wanted to do was nigh unto impossible. He decided right then and there that it was up to him to help her do both.
“Do you want to see my office?” he asked, suspecting she wasn’t ready to return to the house.
“I’d like that.” They passed the schoolhouse, now silent as the children spent the summer with their parents, helping with farmwork and gardening and tending younger siblings. They reached the town square.
“It was Grandfather Marshall’s idea to have a little park in the center of town, a place that invited friends and neighbors to exchange greetings and visit for a bit.” The benches and flowers added to the inviting atmosphere.
Emily glanced about. “It’s a nice place.”
He understood her distraction. They angled across the street to his office, which was next to one corner of the park. He occasionally sat a spell on the bench closest to his office to watch the activities of the town. From his open window he could enjoy the scent of the flowers.
He held the door and let her precede him into his domain.
She circled the small room, paused to examine the likenesses on the wanted posters. “I wish I’d seen their faces.”
He knew she meant the men who had held up the stagecoach.
She continued on to the small cell. “This get used often?”
“Often is a relative term. It would suit me fine if it never got used.”
She looked at the rifles racked on the wall and came full circle to face him.
He leaned on the front of the desk. “What do you want to do for fun?”
The way she blinked, he knew she hadn’t taken the doctor’s orders to heart. A teasing light flashed through her eyes.
“Perhaps I could challenge someone to a horse race.”
He eyed her. “Do you ride?”
She shrugged. “If I don’t, there’s no time like the present to learn.” The teasing ended abruptly. “I hoped he could fix me.” She flung away to press her forehead against the front window.
While she sorted her thoughts, he went through the unopened mail on his desk looking for anything concerning Emily and Mikey. He found nothing and shoved aside the mail to deal with later.
“Would you like to come with me to find Clarence? I have an errand for him.”
She looked ready to say yes, then shook her head. “Do you mind if I stay here a few minutes? I need to think what I’m going to do.”
He didn’t like to leave her and certainly didn’t want her wandering about on her own. “On the condition you stay here until I get back.”
For a moment he thought she would argue, then she shrugged. “I’ll wait here for you.”
He trotted down the street, found Clarence helping his father at the feed store and sent him to look for the culprits. The three men who had bothered Jesse and Emily yesterday plus other men—one riding a horse with an oddly shaped horseshoe and one with silver-tipped boots. They could all be members of the same gang or two different groups of men. He hoped it was the latter and the three that had confronted him on Sunday had continued riding away from the area.
That task done, he headed back to his office. He took a little longer returning as he considered his options.
Doc had given no timetable for Emily’s recovering her memory. He hadn’t even given assurances that it would return. It was up to Jesse to discover her identity and to guard her until he did, but he couldn’t stay at her side continuously.
He reached his office. Emily sat on the wooden armchair, leaning over her knees. His throat tightened at her despair and he knelt by her side.
She looked at him.
“Emily, let me take you around town so you know where the different businesses are.”
“I suppose it won’t do me any good to sit here trying to remember who I am.”
“Nope. You need to follow the doctor’s orders.” He pulled her to her feet and led her outside and past the town square. He wanted her to relax and stop worrying, but he also wanted her to feel confident enough to move about freely.
They passed the hotel and Miss Daisy’s Eatery. “Miss Daisy does the cooking, and her sister Dorie does the serving. It’s a friendly place. Don’t hesitate to stop in.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
He didn’t push her to consider going in. She had much to think about and deal with.
“This is Marshall’s Mercantile.”
“Grandfather Marshall’s other son? I met him and his wife on Sunday but I have to admit I barely remember them.” She chuckled rather mirthlessly. “Big tall man with fading blond hair.”
He led her into the store. No other customers were present, which would make it easier for Emily to relax. “George has about anything you’ll need and if he doesn’t, he’ll order it.”
George hurried forward. “Nice to see you again, Miss Emily. Feel free to look around.”
She thanked him and headed for the yard goods to finger several pieces of fabric.
Jesse watched her. Did she wish for more clothes? No, he understood she wished for her own clothes and hoped something in the many bolts of cloth would trigger her memory.
She turned away, disappointment darkening her eyes. “You have a very nice store,” she told George as she headed for the door.
Jesse followed her outside. They continued down the street. “The assay office. Across the street is the barber and then Mr. Eugene’s office. He’s the local lawyer.” He pointed out several more businesses that they could see from the corner. “Behind the assay office is the boardinghouse.”
She studied it, a serious look on her face. “Perhaps I should move in there until—”
“That’s not necessary, and Mikey wouldn’t have the freedom to run about and make as much noise as he’d like.”
Her countenance brightened and she laughed. “He can be rather noisy at times.”
Relieved to see her more cheerful, he grinned. “Especially when he’s playing with Muffin.”
A horse and rider thundered down the street toward them. Jesse stepped out to wave him down and warn him to slow down in town. He recognized Ernest Davis, a small-time rancher from east of town. Normally a cautious man. Jesse’s nerves twitched.
Ernest reined up hard. “Sheriff, just the man I want to see.”
“What’s the problem?” He kept his voice calm, and his thoughts composed, even though he knew he was about to learn of trouble.
“The supply wagon has been robbed.”
Jesse’s heart sank. “Bo?” Had the driver been killed?
“Shot but still alive.” Ernest gave a snort of amusement. “He’s madder than a cornered badger. Took four of us to get him into a wagon.” He glanced back down the street. “They’ll be going a lot slower than I did, but they should be along shortly.”
“I’ll wait and talk to him before I ride out to the scene.” He thanked the man for all he’d done then looked at Emily for the first time since he’d intercepted the rider.
Her eyes were dark as a midnight sky, her lips set in a hard line. “It could be the same men.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I want to hear what Bo has to say. In the meantime, I need to get you home.” Despite his hope that she would feel free to move about town, he wasn’t prepared to leave her wandering around, especially with robbers in the area, and they made their way back to the house.
He paused with her at the front door. “I wish I didn’t have to rush away.”
Her smile was wide but her eyes were still dark, indicating troubled thoughts. “Thanks for taking care of me. But you needn’t worry. I’ll get myself sorted out.”
That didn’t sounded much positive as resigned. But he couldn’t stay and help her, even if he’d thought he could be of help. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He squeezed her shoulder and hurried away.
Even though Gram was there, he felt as if he had abandoned her. He stopped at the manse and asked Annie to pay Emily a visit. “She’s rather discouraged after Doc told her he could do nothing.”
“Evan has been asking to play with Mikey, so I don’t mind going to see her.”
With that he had to be satisfied for now.
A wagon stood in front of Doc’s house and Jesse hurried in. Before he opened the door, he heard Bo roaring. He went into the examining room where Doc prepared to remove a bullet from Bo’s arm.
“They meant to kill me,” Bo yelled. He saw Jesse. “You go catch them. Bring them to me. I’ll learn ’em not to mess with me.”
Jesse ignored Bo’s anger. “Can you tell me anything about them? How many were there? Did you see their faces?”
“Three men. They kept their faces covered. After they shot me and left me for dead, they rifled through my goods and scattered them all over.” He half sat. “Doc, I gotta get my supplies.”
Doc pushed him back to the table. “Lie down. You’re not going any place until I get the bullet out. Hang on now, son. I have to dig a little.”
“I’ll make arrangements for your things,” Jesse said, and he slipped away as Bo roared like an angry bull.
He arranged for a couple of men to ride east and take care of the supply wagon, then he got his horse. “Come on, Rocky. We got work to do.” It took twenty minutes to reach the wagon. He arrived before those coming with another wagon to get Bo’s things. Jesse shook his head at the senseless way the goods had been scattered about and bags of flour and oats torn open. He dismounted a few feet away and left Rocky waiting. Studying the ground for clues, he circled the area.
And what he saw turned his stomach sour. The same misshapen horseshoe. The same trio who had robbed the stage and killed the driver and his guard.
Jesse straightened and stared down the road. He needed to ride after the robbers before he lost the trail, but what if they made their way to town? Would they recognize Emily and see her as a threat?
They’d left her for dead. Had no reason to suspect she’d lived. Likely they hadn’t even looked at her, so they wouldn’t recognize her. He was worrying needlessly.
He returned to Rocky and followed the tracks of the robbers.
But all the while his gut complained, warning him that Emily could be in danger. After all, how long would a person have to be in town before they heard about the woman who had been rescued from the stagecoach robbery?