Lightning and Lawmen (Baker City Brides Book 5) Read online

  Her father took the leather bag from her. As she picked up her hat box, Ross cupped her elbow in his hand, guiding her to follow the deputies leading the way down the street.

  They walked through town along the main street. As they strolled down the wooden boardwalk, Delilah glanced in shop windows. Spectacular spring gowns in the dress shop beckoned to her with their lovely colors and unique designs. She intended to visit the store soon, once she and her father were settled into their new home. They passed a china shop, a restaurant, and a store selling hardware.

  The two deputies offered commentary about businesses in town. They pointed out some of their preferred places, such as a well-stocked mercantile located a block away from the corner where they stood waiting for a wagon to pass.

  “If the accommodations at the boardinghouse don’t suit you, there’s always the Hotel Warshauer.” Deputy Harter pointed to a building off to their right. “It’s a nice place and the restaurant serves the best food in town.”

  “It looks like a fine establishment,” Ross said. He kept his hold on Delilah’s elbow and guided her around a muddy puddle as they made their way across the street. “Baker City appears to offer a grand assortment of amenities.”

  “Yes, sir,” Deputy Durfey said, smiling at them both. “You’ll find everything from an opera house to a tea room here.”

  “There’s a performance coming up next week. A play by some poet,” Deputy Harter said.

  Deputy Durfey frowned. “I wouldn’t call Shakespeare ‘some poet,’ but the performance of Macbeth should be entertaining.”

  “There are quite a number of impressive homes, here, too,” Ross noted, changing the subject.

  Delilah had often admired her father’s talent at keeping conversations on an even keel, especially when it came to men hinting at an opportunity to court her.

  “Look at that place, Papa. It’s lovely,” Delilah said, indicating a large house, complete with a wide porch and gingerbread trim, on the other side of the street.

  “That’s the boardinghouse,” Deputy Durfey said, looking both ways before they stepped into the street. “Edwin and Hattie Greenfield own it. They came from England last summer for a visit and decided to stay.”

  “Well, how about that,” Ross said, grinning at the deputy as they made their way across the front walk and up the steps. The door opened and a smiling elderly man greeted them.

  “Deputies, what may I do for you gentlemen today?” the man asked, motioning them all inside.

  Delilah breathed in the scents of furniture polish and roasting chicken as they walked into the immaculate foyer. Floors gleamed, windows glistened, and a fire crackled in a nearby fireplace, making her feel like she’d stepped into a long lost aunt’s inviting home. She cast a quick glimpse into the parlor, encouraged by the welcoming appearance of the room.

  “Captain Robbins and his daughter are here to take over the meteorologist station and house, but Sutler left the place in a mess.” Deputy Durfey looked to the older man.

  “A mess? Looked more like a tornado whipped through a pigpen to me,” Deputy Harter said, drawing a chuckle from Ross and Mr. Greenfield.

  “Do you have a room or two available?” Deputy Durfey asked.

  “Of course.” The elderly man smiled at Delilah and her father. “Edwin Greenfield at your service. My wife, Hattie, and I are the proprietors of this establishment.”

  “A fine one it appears to be, Mr. Greenfield.” Ross held out a hand in greeting. “And please, it’s just Mr. Robbins or Ross.”

  “Very well, Mr. Robbins. If you’ll follow me, I’ll see you up to your rooms.” Edwin led the way up the stairs with Delilah and her father close behind him. The two deputies brought up the end of their little procession and deposited the cases in a guest room after Edwin opened the door.

  “We only have three other guests at the moment, so we have plenty of room if you’d like your own rooms,” Edwin said.

  “That would be most appreciated, Mr. Greenfield. Thank you,” Ross said, lifting two of the cases. He followed Edwin across the hall to a room identical to the one in which Delilah stood.

  She looked over the big bed, the matching dresser and washstand, a rose-painted lamp on a small table by the bed, and a rocking chair beneath the window. A colorful quilt covered the bed and looked so inviting, she longed to curl up on it and close her eyes.

  “Will you be okay here, Miss Robbins?” Deputy Durfey asked, lingering in the doorway with concern causing vertical lines to crease his brow.

  “The boardinghouse is perfectly splendid, Deputy Durfey. Thank you.” Disconcerted by the look in his eyes as he held her gaze, she spun around and walked over to the window. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts and composure.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Miss Robbins. Have a pleasant evening,” the deputy said.

  “I plan to, Deputy. Thank you, again.” She kept her gaze outside rather than face him. When Deputy Harter stopped by a moment later to wish her a pleasant evening she refused to be distracted by his presence, continuing to stare at the yard below the window.

  The familiar scent of her father’s aftershave lotion floated around her a moment before he settled his hands on her shoulders. “Well, Lila, what do you think? Can we make a go of things here?”

  “I suppose we’ll learn the answer to that soon enough,” she said, spinning around and giving her father a hug.

  He ducked beneath the brim of her hat and kissed her cheek before taking a step back. “The deputies both seemed quite friendly and helpful. Deputy Harter said the sheriff is out of town with his wife and daughter, but should be back in a few days.”

  “I suppose it’s nice to know the local law enforcement officers are approachable and inclined to be of assistance.”

  Her father winked at her. “And they both seemed more than a little taken with you.”

  Delilah glowered at her father. “Don’t you think we should unpack a few things and tidy our appearances before dinner?”

  “We should,” Ross said, glancing at a watch he drew from his vest pocket then snapping the lid closed. “In fact, you probably have time for a nap.”

  “I plan to take a bath before I do anything else. I’ve got a week’s worth of soot and dirt embedded in my skin.” Delilah grinned at her father. “In the near future, you ought to consider making an acquaintance with a local barber. We really should have taken time for Mr. Langley to trim your hair before we left home.”

  “Probably,” Ross said. He ran his hand through hair that was once as dark as Delilah’s, but was now peppered with streaks of gray along the temples. “Thank you for coming on this venture, honey. If I’d had to choose between staying there with you and coming here alone, I wouldn’t have accepted the position.”

  “I know you wouldn’t have, Papa.” She pulled out her hatpin and removed her hat. “It was time for us to embark on a new adventure.”

  “And it’s been quite an adventure so far. Tomorrow, we’ll go see what we can do to set that house to rights. Tonight, we’ll enjoy a fine meal and rest.”

  “I like the sound of that, Papa.” Delilah kissed her father’s cheek. “Now get out of here and let me indulge in a hot bath.”

  “Yes, my darling, ever-bossy girl.”

  Delilah gave her father a playful nudge out of her room then sank onto the bed when he closed the door. It took her no time at all to yank off her shoes, step out of her clothes, and climb into a tub full of steaming water in the bathroom connected to her room.

  She washed her hair then sank back, letting the water work wonders on her travel-weary muscles. As she relaxed, a pair of long-lashed blue eyes and a crooked smile filled her thoughts, rousing her curiosity about Deputy Dugan Durfey.

  Chapter Two

  Dugan Durfey stared through the darkness up at the ceiling, waiting for morning. Sleep had come to him in fitful snatches and he’d finally given up on getting more rest.

  Instead, he crossed his arms beneath hi
s head and let his mind linger on the moment he first noticed Miss Delilah Robbins.

  He’d been walking down the street during his rounds through town to ensure all was peaceful on the warm spring afternoon. After a stop at the lumberyard to say howdy to owner Ian MacGregor and his foreman, he continued on his way.

  The house the meteorologists used stood in front of him as he headed down the street toward the heart of town. Painted white with pale green trim, the one-story home wasn’t large or imposing, but five years ago, it had been brand new and well built.

  The building itself was still in good shape, but Eugene Sutler, and the men who worked as meteorologists before him, were one step above cavedwellers when it came to maintaining a home.

  Dugan couldn’t blame Miss Robbins for thinking the house had been pillaged for all the mess that greeted her the moment she opened the door. Unfortunately, it looked about the same as it had the day Sutler took off, loudly exclaiming his plans to make a fortune mining gold.

  No one had seen Sutler in the last month or two, but Dugan didn’t doubt he was somewhere in the area. In fact, he questioned whether Sutler might have been involved in an incident that left a miner beaten and robbed several weeks ago. The description the man gave the sheriff sounded a lot like Sutler, but since they hadn’t found him or any evidence, there was nothing to be done about it, at least for now.

  Dugan sighed and let his thoughts drift back to Delilah. He’d nearly swallowed the sassafras drop he’d been sucking on when he walked by the house and saw a woman sitting on the porch, absorbing the sunshine shimmering through the hole in the roof. He’d felt thunderstruck in that moment.

  She’d looked like something from a painting, so serene and breathtakingly beautiful, with the longest, most graceful neck he’d ever seen. Even with her prim posture and attire, she radiated something magnetic, something Dugan couldn’t begin to explain let alone fathom.

  Everything about her exuded warmth: warm brown hair, warm brown eyes, the warmth of her smile.

  In spite of himself, Dugan felt drawn to her from the very moment he clapped eyes on her beguiling face. He’d approached the porch on silent feet. For a long moment, he just watched her, studying the way her eyelashes rested like feathery fans against her cheeks and the fullness of her upper lip that made him want to kiss it over and over again.

  Aware that he should have left her to enjoy the sunny afternoon in peace, he couldn’t help but speak up when he heard her mutter something about the town not being all bad. She’d jumped in surprise as those magnificent eyes popped open and glared at him. He could see a light shining in them, like a flame flickering behind the safety of a lamp’s glass chimney.

  Her soft, melodic voice struck a chord deep inside him, one that had never been plucked or played. One he hadn’t even known existed until that very second.

  Then dang it all if Seth hadn’t shown up with Captain Robbins and turned on his charm. Seth Harter wasn’t just a fellow deputy and man Dugan worked with. They’d been best friends since the day they met. In many ways they were closer than brothers. Yet in some matters, they couldn’t be more different.

  Dugan had no doubt, though, that Seth was the more handsome of the two, the more charming, and the one more inclined to woo the ladies.

  Not that Dugan ever had a lack of interest from the single females in town, but all Seth had to do was cast a smile and he caught women faster than a fisherman dragging in a full net. It didn’t hurt that his friend had hair the color of spun gold or eyes that Dugan had heard a woman in one of the saloons describe as bottomless blue, whatever that meant.

  Dugan had about as much chance with Miss Robbins as a snowball did of surviving in the desert on the Fourth of July, especially if Seth set his sights on the lovely woman.

  A sigh rolled out of him and he sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. He felt along the table beside his bed and struck a match. After lighting the wick in the lamp, he picked up a book he’d been reading the last few days. The clock on the bedside table assured him he had plenty of time before he needed to get up and around for the day, since the hands on the clock had yet to reach four in the morning.

  He cracked open the book, an adventuresome arctic tale by Jules Verne, and tried to focus on the story. Despite his best efforts, his mind continued wandering back to how enticing Miss Robbins had looked with her face turned up to the sun and a smile riding those soft pink lips.

  Determined to chase her from his thoughts, Dugan tossed the book on the table and got up. After making his bed, he pulled on his clothes and went out to see to his morning chores. With just two horses, a milk cow, and a cat, there wasn’t much to do.

  Button had been his sister’s horse, but when she and her husband moved to Portland, she’d asked if she could leave the gentle mare with Dugan. He’d agreed, hoping Darla and her family would visit once in a while. In the two years she’d been gone, he’d seen her only one time, and that was when he’d hauled a prisoner to Portland for a trial and spent an extra day in the city just to see his sister.

  Dugan hung a lantern on a hook and walked down the aisle of the barn to the back. He pushed open the door and stepped into the pasture the cow, Mildred, shared with Button and Dugan’s horse, Barton.

  “Come on, boss,” he called through the darkness to the cow. He heard her shuffling movement and a soft moo before she waddled into the light spilling out the door from the lantern.

  Her calf bawled and kept step beside her as she meandered into the barn. “Settle down, Daisy,” Dugan said, rubbing a hand over the calf’s back as it pranced past him.

  Mildred moved into a stall and contentedly munched her breakfast while Dugan fetched the milk pail and a stool. He’d barely started milking her when the calf butted against his arm.

  “Daisy, you best behave or I’ll lock you in the stall next door. We all know that’s not a fun time for any of us.”

  The calf nudged him again then turned and nosed the barn cat waiting for her morning share of milk.

  “Open up, Prudence,” Dugan said, squirting milk at the black and white spotted cat. With her black nose, the feline looked as though she’d been sniffing around in a coal bin. The cat opened her mouth and lapped at the milk Dugan shot her way.

  He chuckled and gave the cat another squirt before he continued filling his pail with milk. When he finished, he filled an old crockery bowl and set it in the barn aisle for the cat before he placed his pail of milk on a work bench and covered the top with a cloth.

  “Time to go out, Mildred.” His hand settled on the cow’s broad rump as he pushed her out of the stall. She gave him a long look and then slowly made her way outside. The two horses trotted over and Dugan gave them both plenty of attention before he tossed hay to them and filled the water trough.

  He closed the barn door, grabbed the milk pail, and returned to the house. After straining the milk into a pitcher, he took it out to the springhouse, rinsed the bucket at the pump, and left it in the barn.

  Although he’d just cleaned the barn the previous morning, he quickly shoveled out the manure, spread fresh straw in Mildred’s stall, and then carried the lantern back to the house.

  “I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to help Mr. Robbins and his daughter with their house cleaning,” he mused aloud as he washed up and changed into a clean blue and white striped work shirt. After tying a blue and burgundy paisley neckerchief around his neck, he slipped on his dark blue vest. He took the watch out of his pocket and wound it, then slid it back in before he combed his hair and brushed his teeth.

  Quickly shrugging into a canvas jacket instead of his long duster, he settled his black Stetson on his head, fastened on his gun belt, then made his way outside.

  The two-story house on ten acres he called home had belonged to his sister’s husband’s family. When they left for Portland, they’d sold him the place at a price he couldn’t turn down. He’d sold his mother’s house in town and readily moved to the little farm located on the east end o
f Baker City. His was the last place in a few scattered homes on the edge of town before sagebrush opened up to the road that headed toward Richland.

  Generally, it only took him about five minutes to walk from his front door to the sheriff’s office. This morning, though, he headed straight for the meteorologist house. He couldn’t explain why he felt a need to help clean up the mess there, but he did. And since it was barely five in the morning, he had a feeling he’d be able to get in an hour or two of work before anyone detected his presence.

  As plumb tuckered out as Miss Delilah Robbins appeared when he left her at the boardinghouse yesterday afternoon, he wouldn’t be surprised if she slept the day away. He knew Hattie and Edwin Greenfield would both fuss over her and make her feel at home. The couple might not be American, but they definitely knew a thing or two about hospitality and making folks feel welcome at their place.

  Dugan had enjoyed many meals with them — some at their home, others at the homes of friends. He’d never once found them to be anything other than gracious and kind. His thoughts lingered on the caring couple and their mutual friends as he walked up the porch steps at the meteorologist house and turned the knob on the door. It swung open and he stepped inside. If he remembered correctly, the house had been wired for electricity. His fingers slid along the wall until he found the button that clicked on the lights in the entry hall.

  He glanced around, trying to decide if the place looked worse or better in the glow of the sconces on the walls. Determined to do what he could to help clean up the disastrous state of the house, he shucked off his jacket, removed his hat, and left them on the broken coat rack near the front door. Most likely, the majority of the furniture and household goods left in the house were better suited to a burn pile than anything else, but he’d leave that up to the Robbins family to decide.

  In the meantime, he went down the hall to the kitchen, clicked on the lights and ignored the upheaval. After opening the back door so fresh air could flow into the stale rooms, he found an empty box on the small back porch and carried it to the front entry where he began gathering pieces of broken dishes and trash.