Texas Lawman. Carolyn Davidson

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       S leeping on a chair guaranteed a miserable night. Brace had realized it before midnight, and by three in the morning he was ready to occupy the cell next door to his prisoner. The fact that she would likely rouse and be wary of his presence a few feet from where she lay kept him seated before his desk. His head finally sought the hard surface and he dozed fitfully, opening his eyes when the rising sun appeared in the window.

      Yawning and stretching, he made his way to the cell where Sarah slept, curled on her side, the blanket drawn up over her shoulder, the miserable pillow tucked and rolled beneath her neck. At least she’d had a flat surface upon which to spend the night. Hard and barren of a mattress it might be, but he’d warrant the cot was a sight more comfortable than the chair he’d occupied.

      His key rattled in the lock and the young woman’s eyes blinked, then opened fully, and she peered at him blankly for a moment. Then recognition kicked in and she pulled the blanket over her head. “Go away.” It wasn’t even a polite request.

      He ignored the words with a grin as he stepped into the cell. “Thought you might want to take a walk,” he suggested, as if it were an option. Either she went now or in an hour or so. And unless he missed his guess, she was going to be mighty uncomfortable if she had to sit on that cot until he returned with her breakfast.

      “A walk?” The blanket flew off and she swung her legs over the side, sitting upright and shaking her head as if to clear it. A yawn required covering her mouth with one hand, and then she eyed him boldly. “And where is this walk going to take me? To the gallows?” she asked sweetly. “Or haven’t you had time to get them built yet?”

      “You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman dependent on my good nature,” Brace said softly. He turned from her and stepped through the cell door.

      “Wait.” The single word halted his progress, and he glanced at her idly over his shoulder.

      “What for? You all of a sudden decide to be polite?”

      She sighed and rose, staggering a bit as she took a single step toward him. An involuntary sound passed her lips and he frowned as she gritted her teeth and shuffled her way to the door where he stood.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the accommodations?”

      “Not much. The ground was softer, I think. At least I had a little grass under me.”

      “Where was that?” Brace asked.

      She shook her head. “Couldn’t say. Somewhere the other side of town. Under a tree, next to a creek.”

      “Wallin’s Creek, probably,” he surmised. “About four miles down the train tracks and a little to the south.”

      “That sounds about right.” She halted in the cell doorway and looked at the back door. “That door unlocked?”

      Brace shook his head. “Nope. I’ll have to open it for you.” Easing past her, he brushed against her shoulder and she flinched from the contact. “Sorry,” he said lightly. “Didn’t mean to push you.”

      She recovered quickly. “You didn’t. Just caught me off balance.” Her eyes were bright blue, he noted again, just before she lowered the lids, hiding her expression from his sight. Dark hair hung in a tumble of waves and curls over her shoulders and down her back. His gaze was drawn by the sight. He’d thought he preferred golden hair, but with a slow grin he revised his opinion.

      In seconds he’d unlocked the door and opened it, waving her through. “Go ahead,” he invited, and then watched as she walked past him and down the short path to the outhouse. She was easy enough to look at, he decided, taking full advantage of the view of her rounded bottom, outlined nicely by the pants she wore. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited patiently until she reappeared.

      “I’ll get you some warm water if you want to wash up while I’m gone,” he told her as she walked past him again, heading for the open cell door.

      “I’d appreciate it,” she said politely. And then ruined the nicely spoken words with a glare from those brilliant eyes. “How long will it take for you to decide I’m not a threat to your community, Sheriff?”

      “You in a hurry to go someplace?” He locked the cell door and stepped away from the bars.

      “You know damn well I am,” she said bitterly. “You’re holding me without a valid reason, and you know it. Either charge me with a crime or let me go.”

      “All right,” he said agreeably. “I’ll think of something while I go find you some breakfast.”

      She settled on the edge of the cot and leaned her chin on her fist. “Don’t forget the warm water. I’d like to scrub the smell of your jailhouse off my skin.”

      “Your skin smelled pretty clean to me,” he told her. “I took special note of it.”

      Her glare would have melted wax, he thought, and smiled to himself as he strolled back into his office. A bucket from the closet clutched in one hand, he left the jailhouse and walked across the street to the hotel. The alley led to the kitchen door and he pushed it open and inhaled the scent of breakfast.

      “You got some warm water I can use?” he asked.

      Bess Casey looked up from the griddle where six round pancakes were browning and waved a hand at the reservoir attached to the side of the cookstove. “You know where it is. Same place it was last time you needed some for washin’ up.”

      “It’s not for me,” he said. “I’ve got a prisoner over at the jail. I’ll need some breakfast right quick, too. And about four cups of coffee.”

      “Bad night?” Bess asked with a questioning look. “You look a sight, mister.”

      “Sleepin’ on a chair’ll do that to you,” he agreed.

      “I suspect you’ve got a perfectly good bedroom in that house of yours,” she told him. “Why didn’t you use it?”

      “My prisoner is a female,” he said, that explanation enough to make Bess nod her head.

      “Good enough reason,” she said. “Does the lady want coffee, too?”

      “I’ll find out,” Brace said, dipping water into his bucket. “I’ll take this to her and be right back.”

      “You’ll have to wait a bit. Got four orders for breakfast lined up already,” Bess told him. “I’ll put more bacon on right away.”

      He nodded and left the kitchen, the scent of hot coffee wafting behind him. If he’d brought his mug along he could have taken a cupful with him.

      The storekeeper was out front, sweeping the sidewalk as if his very life depended on the cleanliness of the wide boards. “Mornin’, Sheriff Caulfield.”

      Brace nodded a greeting. Mr. Metcalfe was not one of his favorite people, but he’d at least be civil. The flagpole in front of the newly built post office was still empty, but even as Brace glanced that way Titus Liberty came out the door with the spanking new flag in his arms. “Morning, Sheriff,” the gentleman said smartly. “You’re up early.”

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