The Lawman’s Frontier Bride Page 16

  "Is something wrong, Nathan?" Sophie asked.

  Nathan stood in the hallway, his tall, broad-shouldered bulk filling the space. He removed his Stetson and ran a hand through his dark hair. He nodded and glanced at Gretchen. Once again, she felt a tremor of unease.

  "I have some news," the sheriff said. He faced Gretchen. "It's about the man who brought you here, Gretchen."

  "Tate?"

  Nathan nodded. "I'm afraid I've had to lock him up in jail."

  Gretchen took a panicked step forward and clutched Nathan's arm. "You've locked him up?"

  Nathan glanced nervously at Sophie. He sighed. "I had no choice. He's on a wanted list. And until such time as I can confirm his story, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep his in jail."

  Gretchen gasped and raised a shocked hand to her mouth. Sophie gazed at Gretchen. Even she looked surprised by this news.

  It looked like Tate Campbell wouldn't be leaving Inspiration any time soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Tate lay back on the bed in his jailhouse cell. The springs creaked beneath his weight. The lumps in the pillow pressed hard against his neck. If he was going to be in jail for a few days he'd have to get used to laying on this bed, he told himself. Still, it was better than sleeping on hard ground. He'd done enough of that these last few weeks.

  Through the bars of the cell, he saw the sheriff sitting behind the wide desk. The early evening light shone into the jailhouse through the open window next to the door.

  Nathan Cameron hadn't been exactly chatty since he'd locked Tate up. In fact, the sheriff was doing everything he could to avoid talking with his newest prisoner. Because Tate knew that was what he was. A prisoner.

  Tate rested his hands behind his head and recalled the conversation he'd had with the sheriff. Soon after Gretchen and Sophie had left the jailhouse, Sheriff Cameron had questioned Tate. For about a half hour Tate had explained every detail of his life during the last few months. Starting with his decision to bring Frank Wolfe and his gang to justice, Tate had described to the sheriff how he'd infiltrated the gang, winning their confidence and even taking part in some of their raids. On hearing that part of his story, Sheriff Cameron had lifted a querying brow and given Tate a dark look.

  Tate had told Sheriff Cameron that, even though he'd participated in the raids, he'd actually done his best to undermine the activities of the gang members. He'd even gone to far as to stop any bloodshed and respecting women and children, leaving them alone. By subterfuge, Tate had prevented bloodshed and minimized harm to innocents. Doing that had raised the hackles of some of the gang members, but Tate had figure it had been worth doing. The fact that Frank Wolfe valued Tate's contributions to the raids had prevented any of the gang members from calling Tate out to a shootout.

  Finally, Tate had described how he had rescued Gretchen and brought her to Inspiration. As Tate told the sheriff about the encounter with the gang, and the trap he'd set for them, Nathan's eyes had widened. After that, he'd taken a real interest in Tate's story. However, it was clear the sheriff still had his doubts about Tate. Even though he'd brought Gretchen to safety, it seemed the sheriff still wasn't convinced.

  So, the moment had come when the sheriff had declared that he'd be locking Tate up.

  Of course, Tate had complained. But he knew the sheriff had no choice. Tate was sure that, if he'd been faced with the same situation back in Laramie, he'd have done exactly the same. As he'd locked the door to Tate's cell, Nathan had explained he'd be sending a telegram to Laramie, seeking confirmation of Tate's claim that he was a US marshal. Tate hadn't carried any identification, judging it too risky while he was living shoulder to shoulder with Frank Wolfe's gang.

  Tate reflected on the fact that he'd delivered Gretchen safely to people who truly cared for her. Having listened to the way the sheriff's wife had spoken to Gretchen, Tate was sure she was in good hands.

  He couldn't help feeling sad about one thing, though. In delivering Gretchen to Inspiration, he'd brought her to a place where she was sure to find a husband. He sighed heavily, thinking about the last few days. About the delights of being with Gretchen.

  From the moment he'd met her in Refuge, he'd known she was someone special. In fact, Tate had never met any woman who could compare to Gretchen. During his life, Tate had encountered women. In his line of work it was inevitable. But he'd always held back from getting too involved with anyone. He'd just never had the time for a serious relationship. And there had been many quiet moments, in the dark of night, when he'd wished he had someone in his life. Someone he could love. Someone with whom he could build a new life. A family life.

  Tate had seen the way Gretchen had watched him back at the homestead while he'd been showing Nathan how to use a rope. He'd seen the careful look she'd given him, as if she'd realized he was more than just a cowpuncher. That he could also be a family man. As he'd instructed Nathaniel, Tate had played with the possibility that, one day, he could have children of his own. That he could have a wife like Gretchen.

  But, the instant he'd let that thought enter his mind, Tate had done what he'd always done. He'd shut that possibility back in the darkest recesses of his mind. While he was a US marshal, he could never have a family. He'd never be able to provide that happiness to someone.

  For the last few days, he'd shown Gretchen the true side of his character. He was a protector; a seeker after justice. And that was what he would always be.

  The sheriff rose from his chair and walked casually across to the cell. Tate sat up from the bed and stood, facing the sheriff through the bars of the cell.

  "I've been thinking about what you told me," the sheriff said. Then he surprised Tate by smiling broadly. "First off, let's just get on first name terms."

  "Yeah?" Tate replied.

  "Call me Nathan," the sheriff said. "And I'll call you Tate. How does that sound?"

  Tate nodded. "It sounds good to me," he admitted.

  The sheriff tilted his head and examined Tate through the bars. ""I've been doing this job for a few years. And I reckon I know when a man is telling me the truth." He touched a hand to his belly. "I can feel it in my gut when a man is lying to me."

  "You can?"

  Nathan nodded. "And I just don't get that feeling with you."

  "Well, that's a start, I guess," Tate said feeling relieved. Maybe his stay in jail was going to be short, after all.

  "Your story rings true, Tate," Nathan said. "I've lost some good men over the years. Facing down evil doesn't always go smoothly. But I guess you already know that."

  Hope rose in Tate's breast. He stepped eagerly toward the cell door. "So you believe what I've told you?"

  Nathan paused a moment and fixed Tate with a long, patient look. His eyes narrowed, as if he was weighing things up one final time. Finally he nodded. "I do."

  Tate dragged in a deep breath and smiled. Things were looking up.

  Nathan leaned a hand against the metal bars of the cell. "You said that Frank Wolfe will probably be bringing his outfit into town tonight?"

  Tate thought back to his conversation with Wolfe back at the mountains. Wolfe had insisted on acting quickly. Tate had tried to dissuade Wolfe from coming into Inspiration so soon. But Wolfe had been adamant. Now that he believed there was gold in the town bank, he wasn't going to wait around longer than was necessary.

  "I think Wolfe and his men might hit town tonight," Tate said.

  "You reckon?" Nathan replied and lifted his brows. He thought for a moment. "I've got some good men in town. They volunteer when I need them. A sheriff can never have too many deputies."

  Tate grinned. "You're right." He thought back to the many times he'd been a deputy back in Laramie. Tate reckoned it was part of his civic duty to take care of the community. He was pleased to see that the men of Inspiration thought the same.

  Nathan ran his gaze across the cell bars. "You know I'll be taking a chance if I let you out of here."

  Tate grasped the bars and pe
ered at Nathan. "I understand that, Nathan. I'd feel the same if I was in your shoes. But I know these men. And they'll be expecting me to be here. Waiting for them."

  "If Wolfe and his men are coming to town tonight, I can't wait until I get confirmation about your identity from Laramie." Nathan frowned. "Time isn't on our side."

  Tate watched as Nathan battled with his understanding of the risks involved.

  Nathan furrowed his brows. "We're talking about springing a trap, Tate. You know how dangerous that could be."

  "I do." Tate glanced at the silver star on Nathan's shirt. "But I reckon you're the kind of man I'd want by my side. If I'm going to bring this to a conclusion, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have at my side than you."

  Unmoved by Tate's compliment, Nathan's jaw tightened. "We'll need about ten men. And they'll have to be positioned around the bank."

  Tate felt excitement well up inside him. This was how it was going to end. With Frank Wolfe and his renegades being brought to justice by the good men of Inspiration. Tate hadn't felt this hopeful since he'd left Laramie months ago, his mind set on bringing Frank Wolfe in for the death of Jack.

  Nathan turned quickly and went to his desk. He scooped up a metal ring full of keys and came back to the cell. When Tate saw Nathan turning the key in the lock, he stepped back, waiting for Nathan to pull the door open. But Nathan didn't do that.

  Instead, he leaned his hand against the cell door and peered at Tate through the bars. "I'm trusting you, Tate. You understand?"

  Tate nodded.

  Still holding the door closed, Nathan peered at Tate. "You did a good thing for that young woman. Bringing Gretchen to safety proves to me that you're a man I can trust. A man who can help me bring Frank Wolfe in."

  Tate nodded slowly. "Tell me what you want me to do."

  Nathan sighed. "I don't want you leaving this jailhouse. Not until we're ready for Wolfe. For now, you stay in there. If you're needed in a hurry, at least you can get out of this cell."

  Tate understood the sheriff was trying keep all his options open. And that included allowing Tate free access to Main Street in the event that Wolfe showed up before he was expected.

  "He'll come after dark. Probably when everyone is asleep," Nathan said thoughtfully. Then he peered through the bars at Tate and smiled. "But there'll be one thing he won't be expecting."

  "What's that?" Tate asked.

  Nathan's gaze darkened. "That you, me and the other men will be wide awake. And waiting for him."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  "I think that's everything," Sophie announced as she looked down at the tray on the kitchen table. On the tray were two plates laden with food. The aroma of chicken and vegetables filled the air.

  Gretchen held a large white cloth in her hand. "Do you want me to carry the tray?"

  Sophie frowned. "No. I'll do that." She extended her hand and Gretchen gave her the white cloth. Sophie draped the protective cloth over the food and lifted the tray. "Ready to visit your rescuer at the jailhouse?"

  Gretchen felt her cheeks bloom with heat. For the last couple of hours, while she'd been in the kitchen preparing the food, Sophie hadn't stopped asking questions about Tate. As far as Gretchen was concerned Sophie's fascination with what Tate had done seemed unusual. But then again, she'd only just made the acquaintance of the town matchmaker. Maybe this was what Sophie did every time a new mail order bride came to town.

  Sophie had described some of her many matchmaking success stories. There was the Buchanan family. They were ranchers. A few years ago, she'd found brides for some of the brothers when they'd had a crisis that had threatened the family's livelihood. Sophie seemed especially pleased with that outcome. Sophie described how, year after year, more brides had come to town. Happy families had been the result. There had even been one little baby girl born who'd been named in honor of Sophie.

  Now that she had her trunk back, Gretchen wore one of her most comfortable gowns, a green outfit, edged at the collar and cuffs with pretty white lace. It felt good to be properly dressed again. And, as she prepared to make her way across to the jailhouse, Gretchen realized she was both eager and excited to see Tate again.

  After her initial shock had passed at discovering that Tate was a prisoner in the jail, Gretchen had listened intently as Nathan had explained it would most likely be a temporary incarceration. Relief had filled Gretchen's heart upon hearing Nathan say that.

  Sophie and Gretchen started to make their way up the street toward Main Street. Gretchen carried the tray carefully, anxious that the food wouldn't end up scattered on the dusty ground. It was early evening, and the sun had dropped behind the tall buildings. The air was cool. Gretchen felt delight as she listened to the birds singing in the nearby trees. She sighed contentedly and glanced at Sophie.

  "Does this town always feel so peaceful?" she asked.

  Sophie smiled. "I know what you mean. Maybe I'm just so used to it all." Sophie glanced up at the darkening blue, cloudless Montana sky. "Inspiration is a wonderful place to live." Sophie crinkled her brows and looked at Gretchen. "But you're going discover that all by yourself. Now that you're here to stay."

  For some reason, those words affected Gretchen. She'd been so busy since moving into Sophie and Nathan's home, that she hadn't really considered what her arrival meant.

  She'd found her home. The one place where she could discover peace and contentment. A godly town where her hopes for marriage and family might well come to fruition. Silent for a few moments, she offered up a quiet prayer.

  Lord, thank you for delivering me into the hands of these wonderful people. And thank you for saving me from all those dangers during my journey. Truly, you are my Lord. The one I love with all my heart. Amen.

  Growing up back in Pennsylvania, her mother had always told Gretchen how important it was to be grateful for every one of God's gifts. And now, as she walked alongside Sophie Cameron, Gretchen's heart swelled with that gratitude.

  One person she was truly grateful to was Tate. He'd brought her to safety. He'd kept her from harm. Even if he hadn't always been open with her about who he really was, or what he was doing, Gretchen still felt an immense gratitude toward the handsome marshal. He wasn't just a drifter, a cowpuncher with no more purpose in life than the next job. Tate was a man who lived his life according to iron-clad principles of justice. That explained why he'd taken upon himself to bring her through the Montana wilderness and deliver her into the safe hands of Sophie and Nathan Cameron.

  Just thinking about what Tate had done for her filled her heart with joy. He was a good man. But was he more than that to her? Could he ever be more than that?

  Throughout their journey Gretchen had grown increasingly fond of Tate. She'd felt her heart stir with feelings toward him. She thought back to that kiss in the homestead cabin. She could still sense the emotion which had stirred inside her when he'd held her in his arms. She'd loved the tender, yet firm, way he'd embraced her. Feeling so close to Tate had turned her world upside down.

  And now? She didn't even want to consider the possibility that Tate would simply leave Inspiration. Surely, after all they'd been through together, he might be persuaded to stay.

  And then what? Gretchen chided herself. Was she seriously hoping that Tate could possibly be a husband to her? Were they really that close? Or was she simply fooling herself?

  "Are you okay?" Sophie asked Gretchen as they started to cross Main Street.

  "Huh?" Gretchen said, dragging her attention back to the present. She'd been so lost in thought, she was momentarily surprised she hadn't taken a tumble and dropped the tray on the ground. She smiled at Sophie. "I'm fine. I was just thinking about the last few days."

  "You've been through a lot," Sophie replied. "You need a good nights sleep."

  Gretchen nodded. "You're right."

  They arrived at the jailhouse. Sophie knocked on the door and went inside. Gretchen followed behind. The sheriff was over by the cell. He appeared to be in
the middle of a conversation with Tate. Seeing Tate standing inside the cell, behind the bars, made Gretchen halt abruptly. Tate peered at her through the bars. When he smiled at her, Gretchen felt her cheeks blush.

  She busied herself by placing the tray of food down on the sheriff's table. Sophie went to her husband and said something quietly. Gretchen couldn't hear what had been said. Whatever it had been, it made the sheriff look up at Gretchen and smile.

  "That food smells real nice," Tate said from inside the cell.

  Sophie curled a finger at her husband and he followed her to the jailhouse door. "Nathan and I have a few words to say to each other," Sophie explained.

  Nathan nodded and looked knowingly across at Tate. "We'll be right outside."

  The sheriff and his wife made their way out to the boardwalk and closed the door behind them. Now Gretchen was alone with Tate, she was at a loss for words.

  He broke silence: "Bring that food over here, will you, Gretchen?"

  She frowned. "You're going to eat it in there?"

  Tate pointed to a little table by the side of his bed. "Just put it there."

  Wondering how she was going to do that, Gretchen went to the tray and swept away the white covering. She lifted one of the plates and a fork and made her way across to the cell. There was a small rectangular opening in the bars, big enough for a single plate to pass through. She moved toward that, intending to pass the plate through to Tate. However, to her surprise, Tate moved toward the cell door, grasped the bars and pushed. To her amazement the cell door swung open. She took a step back, looking in astonishment at Tate as he stood framed in the open door.

  "What!" Gretchen exclaimed. She felt the plate start to slip from her hand. Tate rushed forward and seized it. "I'll take that," he declared.

  He walked back into the cell and placed the plate on the table. Then he turned to face Gretchen.

  "I thought the sheriff had locked you in there," she said.