Silver Creek - G.L. Snodgrass Page 0,57

smaller one cursed. “Our fine’s been paid.”

“Son,” Luke said as he glared at the man. “I ain’t in a right friendly mood. I see you in town, I might think you was gunning for me. Which means I might shoot you on sight. But you do what you think is best.”

The cowboy swallowed hard then joined his friends to limp across the street to the Red House.

Luke, watched them for a few minutes then turned to Jake. “You watch our guest in the back. I’m tired of eating behind my desk. I’m headed over to the restaurant.” Then, turning to Becky, he raised an eyebrow.

She smiled at him then slid her arm into his and leaned her shoulder against his.

His heart jumped. The woman didn’t hate him. A minor miracle but he wasn’t going to question it. Instead, he was just going to enjoy being loved by a woman like this. Most definitely one of those major miracles in his book.

Chapter Twenty-Two

For the next two days, life settled into something almost normal. The Circle B boys kept quiet. Felton stayed in the hotel. But a tension was building. Two miners got into a knockdown drag-out fight over a bar girl in the Bull’s Head. The next night, someone fired off a dozen shots into the air but disappeared before Luke could get there. It felt like a prairie storm approaching, that charged, buzzing feeling like death was just around the corner.

How would it go down? he wondered. How would Felton make his next move? He had to hurry or the Marshal would be here. And if he went up against federal lawman, the army would step in and he would lose any opportunity at getting his brother free.

Would he try rushing the jail with a dozen men? Or use that gun hand, Dawson? Either that or maybe they planned on breaking Mark Felton out after the trial, maybe while he was being shipped back to the penitentiary.

One thing had been decided. Sheriff Reed would live. He was still wobbly on his feet and stricken with massive headaches. But he would live. So there wouldn’t be a hanging.

Sitting back in his chair, Luke put it all aside as he returned to his most pressing problem. Who killed Tom Johnson? And why had the Felton’s bought his ranch? The letters he’d sent off to the Marshall and to the Army had asked for any information on this Henry Travers. But it might be weeks before he heard anything.

“Hey Sheriff,” his prisoner called from the back. “Any chance on getting something other than steak? God, what I wouldn’t give for a plate of tamales.”

“You’re lucky you ain’t on bread and water,” Luke scoffed.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the door opened as Becky stepped in with two plates. His heart jumped as always when he saw her. The light shining through her golden hair, the curve of her waist called at the man inside of him.

The savory aroma of a cooked meal permeated the jail. “Thought you might be tired of steak,” she said, lifting up one of the plates. “I made some fried chicken, potatoes, and sweet corn.”

“Chicken!” Felton called from the back.

“Not for you,” Becky said to him. “The town ain’t paying me to cook you special meals.”

Luke’s insides softened with pure happiness. She had done this just for him. Her way of showing how much she cared. God, he couldn’t wait until they could start their life together. That thought was immediately followed with a sense of fear at all he had to lose.

If the Feltons took him out. He would never know what it was like to share Becky’s bed. He’d never bounce his son on his knee. Never get a chance to pass along all the things Zion had taught him. No, he’d just become a forgotten memory to most people. The man who had foolishly stood up against the Feltons.

Becky would be sad. But she was young. Somewhere down the line, she would find another to love. The thought sent a shaft of pure pain to his heart. He should want that for her. His head knew it was only right. But his heart refused to see it that way. No, she was his, his alone.

“Thank you,” he said as he took Felton’s steak back to him. When he returned, Becky had placed a gingham napkin next to his plate and sat in the chair across from him.

“How much longer?” she asked.

He shrugged