Gerda's Lawman Read online

  I am acting like an old maid. Just because everyone else is married doesn’t mean anything is wrong with my life, does it? She was a successful proprietor with a comfortable home, good friends, and a family who loved her. But they weren’t a husband and children. Then she felt that deep longing she had harbored since she’d become an adult. She wanted to be loved by a man the way Far loved Mor. The way Gustaf loved Olina. The way August loved Anna. The way Anna’s brothers Ollie and Lowell loved their wives. She wanted a home of her own, not just an apartment above a store. And she wanted children. To feel their arms around her neck. . .to have them call her, “Mother.” Oh yes, Gerda wanted all those things more than she could tell anyone. But that cowboy across the dining room is not the man to give them to me.

  Two

  If Frank had been eating in a tavern or even a small café, he would have lit up a cheroot and enjoyed a smoke with his after-dinner coffee, but it didn’t seem like the thing to do in this classy restaurant. He didn’t want to leave where he was sitting while that beauty was across the room, so he sipped the hot beverage and relaxed in his chair, taking frequent peeks at her. The waitress had filled his cup three more times before the party he was watching got up and left the room.

  When Frank emerged from the restaurant, he felt too restless to sleep. Instead of going to his room, he decided to go outside for a smoke. The sun had set and gaslights flickered along the main street, casting indefinite circles of light at regular intervals along the boardwalk. Frank glanced down the street toward the saloon. Light, noise, and tobacco smoke poured out through the swinging doors. When he was younger, he would have felt drawn to the place, but it held no enticement tonight. He fished in the pocket of his shirt for a cheroot and placed the end between his lips. He then pulled a small box of matches from his vest pocket, withdrew one, and returned the box to his pocket. Leaning down, he struck the matchstick against the sole of his boot and applied the flame to the end of the thin cigar. The smoke curled around his head as he moved down the sidewalk away from the doorway and leaned back against the wall.

  He wondered where the sheriff’s office was. Tomorrow he would need to find it. Frank decided that he would wait and alert the lawman after he’d found the Le Blancs. At that point, he would need assistance, since he was no longer an officer of the law himself. Frank could see a train station past the end of this block. He wondered how often the train came through town. All the lights were off in the depot, so there must not be any more due tonight.

  Frank took another draw on his small cigar. Just then a lamp was lighted in the upstairs room across the street. A large sign spanning the building proclaimed it Braxton’s Mercantile. One of the downstairs windows at the end of the building had Dress Emporium painted in letters that matched those on the mercantile sign. An elegant dress in some shimmery fabric the color of rich cream was draped over a dress form in that window. Frank liked women’s clothing without too many frills. The clean lines of the garment would look good on the woman he had watched during dinner. Of course, with her classic features and perfect figure, almost anything would look good on her. He wondered if she had seen this dress. He also wondered where she lived and if he would ever see her again. Probably not, so I should just quit thinking about her. But he wasn’t ready to release her from his thoughts.

  Earlier in the day, when Frank took his horse to be stabled at the livery, he’d noticed that the building looked as though it hadn’t been there long. The wood was new, not weathered like the smithy that stood nearby. It made him wonder why a town this size hadn’t had a livery stable before this. A few questions about the new business might help him open a conversation that would lead to the whereabouts of the Le Blancs.

  Frank moved away from the wall and leaned against a post that supported the porch. The night felt chilly. He was tired, but not sleepy. He figured he just might as well go to his room, so he threw the stub of the cigar in the dirt and stepped off the boardwalk to snuff it out with the heel of his boot. He glanced up and down the silent street before he entered the front door to the hotel.

  Frank hadn’t lost the feeling that he was close to Le Blanc and his daughters, but it wasn’t any stronger now than when he’d come into town. He was pretty sure they weren’t at this hotel. He hoped he hadn’t missed them once again, but he decided not to dwell on that. It would just keep him from being able to sleep tonight.

  As he crossed the hotel lobby, the young man behind the desk looked up over the top of his spectacles. “Do you need anything else, Sir?”

  “No, thank you. I’m going to turn in for the night.” When Frank reached the step on the carpeted stairs where he had first become aware of the woman, he turned and looked at the place where she had stood. He half hoped she would be there now, but that was a crazy thought. As he knew it would be, the spot was empty. So was the rest of the lobby, except for the man behind the desk, who had returned to reading his book.

  ❧

  Gerda was glad to leave the restaurant and get that cowboy out of sight and off her mind. August accompanied her to the door of her apartment. He unlocked the door with his key.

  She turned toward her brother and gave him a hug. “Thank you. I’ll be fine now.”

  August looked a little disappointed. He may have wanted to stay and talk awhile, but she was afraid she might blurt out something about that cowboy. Gerda was confident that neither of her brothers had noticed him. She certainly didn’t want to call attention to him now.

  She was glad she’d left one lamp burning. It gave her enough light to get to the others. For some reason, she didn’t want the apartment to be dark tonight.

  Gerda walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. She stayed mostly behind the fabric and looked at the hotel across the street, wondering which room was the cowboy’s. Probably one in the back where it’s quieter. Since they spent so much time out on the range, didn’t cowboys like to be away from the noise of town? Unless he had gone down to the saloon. Although he was dressed like a gentleman at dinner, he might have headed that way afterward. For all she knew, he was just a snake in the grass like Pierre Le Blanc. But she hoped not. How could she have felt that strong connection in the hotel lobby if the man was like Pierre?

  What if he were something besides a drifter? Could Gerda have a relationship with him? What was she thinking? She didn’t know if the man was a Christian or even if he was a decent man. It must have been because of the wedding anniversary and all the talk of children. That was why her thinking had gone awry. She was fine just as she was right now.

  Then an image came to mind of her old maid aunt, who had died when Gerda was a little girl. The woman was dried up. Her skin was wrinkled and her outlook on life was sour. Unlike Aunt Ada, Gerda loved children. Just because Gerda wasn’t married didn’t mean she would end up like her aunt. Besides, maybe God just hadn’t yet brought the man into her life that He wanted her to marry.

  Gerda released the edge of the curtain with a disgusted sigh, then walked into the parlor and picked up the book of poetry August had brought as a housewarming gift after she and Anna moved into the apartment. She sat in the rocking chair and read a few pages but soon closed the volume. Poetry was not what she needed tonight. Too many of the poems were about love. Maybe she should read the Bible. When she picked up the leather-bound book, it fell open to Esther. Gerda read all ten chapters. God had Esther marry a king to save His people from destruction. Surely, God had a purpose for keeping Gerda unmarried so long. She wished He would tell her what it was. . .and soon.

  “Father God, forgive me for feeling dissatisfied tonight. Please help me wait for Your plan for my life. Help me be happy and patient until You bring something else—and help me recognize what You are doing when You do. Amen.” Praying aloud helped God seem more real to Gerda, as if He were sitting on the settee across the room. Although she felt a calmness settle on her spirit, she wished to hear an audible reply from Him.

  She hadn’t been dissatisfied with her l
ife until that tall, tan, handsome stranger connected with her across the hotel lobby. Gerda thought her prayer had been sincere, but she didn’t sleep very soundly that night. She dreamed disturbing things about growing old alone, and the cowboy from the hotel flitted in and out of her nonsensical dreams at odd times and for no apparent reason.

  ❧

  Frank didn’t get ready for bed when he went to his room. He didn’t even light the lamp. One of the gas streetlights was right outside his window. He didn’t pull the shade down, so he could see all he needed from the glow it provided. Frank stood beside the window and studied the area one more time. The lighted windows above the store had curtains on them. It was probably where someone lived. He wondered who. Maybe the owner of the mercantile.

  He looked down to the empty street below. When he glanced back across the street, a woman was pulling the shade down on one of the windows. All he could see was her hand and part of her skirt.

  Leaning his weight on the hand that rested on the window frame, Frank wondered how long it would be before he could find the Le Blancs. He would make discreet inquiries tomorrow, because he didn’t want to alert them that someone was after them. Stepping away from the window, he rubbed his hand through his unruly curls. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to just shave his head when he shaved his face. Then his hair wouldn’t be such a problem to control. Maybe it was time to visit the barbershop. He’d noticed a red-and-white-striped pole on one of the buildings near the saloon. A barbershop was a good place to obtain information.

  Frank opened his saddlebags and retrieved the papers he had been collecting. Papers that chronicled all the crimes he was sure the Le Blanc gang had committed. Frank wanted to be sure they were in order when he took them to the sheriff.

  As he shuffled through the pages he had collected, each one brought uncomfortable memories. If only the Old Man had been with Frank, he never would have insisted that Frank give up. Seeing all the devastation left behind by the Le Blancs, there was no way Frank could do that. As a lawman, he’d tried to protect people from evil people like Pierre Le Blanc. He couldn’t allow other people to be destroyed by him, too.

  Frank’s hand stopped on the information from Cheyenne, Wyoming. He withdrew the slip of paper and moved to the window, reading the words in the glow from the gaslight and the moon. He didn’t really need to see the words. He couldn’t forget the stricken look on the face of a rancher who had been wiped out when his life savings were taken. Unfortunately, the man—like many others—didn’t trust banking institutions. He’d hidden his savings under his mattress. That year had been hard, and the rancher was counting on that money to build up his depleted herd. He was even going to pay his hired hands with some of the cash.

  Frank threw the paper down on the bed and stalked across the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. The man had lost heart along with his cash. When Frank left Cheyenne, the rancher was contemplating going back East to work in his brother’s store—something he had declared he would never do.

  Frank sat on the side of the bed and replaced the paper in the stack. He straightened the stack and started to slip it back into his saddlebag.

  There was another face that Frank couldn’t banish from his thoughts. A woman from Topeka, Kansas. The Le Blancs had taken jewelry from her—jewelry that had been in her family for over five generations. It had come from Europe with the ancestors who’d settled in Kansas while it was a wild land. When Frank met the woman, her eyes were red from weeping. She had shut herself off from most people, but the sheriff convinced her to talk to the marshal. She mourned the loss of the legacy she wanted to pass on to her daughters. While Frank questioned her, she showed him a portrait a traveling painter had done of her wearing some of the jewelry. They were beautiful pieces. Ever since then, he had been on the lookout for them in every town he passed through as he followed the trail of the Le Blanc gang.

  Frank wondered what Le Blanc did with the jewelry and silver he stole. There wasn’t much of a market for things like that in smaller towns. Perhaps he took it back East to sell. If so, Frank knew the owners would never see them again. It was a shame for a family to lose heirlooms like that.

  While he undressed and got ready for bed, his thoughts returned to the graceful beauty. She was the kind of woman a man brought home to Mother, if his mother were still alive. He didn’t know that for a fact, but he thought he could tell that much about her. She walked with a regal bearing. The beauty would make a good mother for some man’s children. Were the men in this town blind, or just stupid, to let a woman like her remain unmarried? Then another thought hit him. Was she a widow? Maybe she had been married. Perhaps there were children.

  He could be mistaken about her. Maybe she was married but didn’t wear a ring for some reason. But he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that she was unattached. Frank had been good at reading people. He had to be in the business he was in.

  Frank shook his head to clear it of the thoughts that haunted him. He crawled between clean sheets, which smelled like sunshine, and pulled up the colorful quilt that had been draped across the end of the bed. He was glad to be in a hotel that believed in cleanliness. He had slept plenty of times in beds with used sheets.

  ❧

  Frank rode his horse, following Pierre Le Blanc and his two daughters, who were in a fancy buggy. They stayed just far enough ahead that he could barely make out their features, but he was sure it had to be them. They turned off the road and drove up to a farmhouse. A woman came out to meet them. She stood straight with glorious, light blond hair that was pulled up into a poufy hairstyle. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her graceful hand waved toward him. He started to raise his but remembered what he had been doing when he saw her, so he didn’t return her salute.

  He glanced toward the Le Blancs, but they had disappeared. So had the buggy they were riding in. Nothing lay between him and the woman on the porch. He was no longer riding a horse, though he didn’t remember dismounting. He strode across a grassy field toward the beauty who was now clothed in a creamy, shimmery dress that somehow looked familiar. The cool breeze blew the skirt out behind her, and the wisps of hair that fell around her shoulders also billowed in the wind. She smiled at him as if she were waiting for him.

  “Welcome home.”

  Her melodious voice drifted on the spring breeze and caressed his ears. Her arms spread wide as if to emphasize the words, and he walked into her embrace. When her arms closed around him, she lifted her face to receive his kiss. He wanted to put his arms around her when he kissed her, but he couldn’t move them. He struggled against the bonds that held him, but the more he struggled, the tighter they became.

  Frank shook himself, and his eyes opened. He glanced around the unfamiliar place. In the light streaming through his window from the gaslight and a bright moon, he saw the flowered paper covering the walls above the wainscoting. Wind blew through the open window, and the curtains danced in the breeze. He glanced down. His body was trapped inside a cocoon of covers that wouldn’t let him move. Frank snorted a derisive laugh. He must have been sleeping restlessly to become this entangled in his bedding.

  Frank extricated himself from his bonds, got up, and walked to the window. Nothing moved outside, and the windows across the street were dark. He was probably the only person in town who was still awake.

  The dream had seemed so real. He could almost smell the sweet woman who had thrown her arms around him and offered her lips for his kiss. He wished they had connected in the dream before he had awakened. Inner desires tormented him with things that could never happen.

  Three

  Frank knew this night would be a long, sleepless one. It was quite awhile before dawn, but he dressed anyway. He stood at the window, leaning with both hands on the window frame, and studied the quiet street below. In the dream, the house had looked like his parents’ old homestead when he was a boy, only with new paint. Often, his mother had waited on the porch and watched for his father the same way the woman in
his dream had. In fact, when he first saw her standing there, she was wearing a dress much like the ones his mother wore. Perhaps the dream was trying to tell him something. Was he was ready to settle down and have a family similar to the happy family he grew up in?

  The moon had moved across the sky while he slept, and its beams highlighted the dress in the window across the street. It shone like a pearl on black velvet, nestled against the darkness of the store’s interior. Now he realized it was the dress the woman wore in his dream.

  With a disgusted shake of his head, Frank turned toward the door. Maybe a walk in the cold night air would clear his head of the thoughts that plagued him. He needed to focus on the reason he came to this town. When he stepped out of the front door of the hotel, a nippy breeze caused gooseflesh to rise on his arms. He didn’t care. Taking a cheroot from his pocket, Frank struck a match to light it. After taking several draws on it, he realized it didn’t give him the satisfaction he usually felt when he smoked. He looked at the glowing tip before he flicked it into the dirt of the alley he was passing. He smashed it with the heel of his boot before continuing. His steps caused too much noise when he walked on the boardwalk, so he stepped out into the street. Frank couldn’t remember when he had ever felt so restless. It was something more than just being near the object of his search. He couldn’t put a name on the feeling, but he didn’t like it at all. He was used to being completely in control of his emotions as well as his body.

  The moon was three-quarters full, and it was sinking near the horizon. Frank glanced toward the east and could see the first, faint predawn light. He wondered how long it would be before the restaurant at the hotel would start serving breakfast. He went back into the lobby and up to his room to stretch out on his bed and wait until he smelled food cooking.