Chapter Six

9.8K 443 38
                                    

"If you've got a moment, Sheriff, I'd like to have a word with you."

Ezekiel Porter stood wringing his hands in front of his broad chest, looking at the sheriff of the town of Blackwell who sat in his chair just outside the jailhouse. The lawman's rifle was propped against the wall next to him as usual and his revolver remained at his side, but the sheriff wore a calm expression that came with years of experience as a man of the law. However, Zeke was anything but calm.

"I've got the time, Zeke. C'mon up here and have you a sit-down."

The livery owner nodded and made his way up the short steps of the jail. He took a seat in the rickety wooden chair beside the sheriff. The chair creaked beneath the large man's weight, but it held nonetheless. Zeke nervously rubbed his sweating palms against his legs. He really did not want to have this conversation with Sheriff Wyatt. Unfortunately, it was necessary.

If only he could get the words out...

The Sheriff, sensing his old friend's hesitancy, asked, "Somethin' wrong? Has there been some trouble at the livery?"

"Well... uh... y-you could say that, but I wouldn't say this type of trouble would require the law 'xactly..." Zeke watched as his hands continued their path up and down his legs. He didn't meet the sheriff's eye and for good reason. "I'm here to talk to you as a parent, Wyatt, not as a sheriff."

Wyatt furrowed his brows, an expression of confusion flickering across his face. He sighed faintly, maintaining his patience even though he was very eager to learn why exactly Ezekiel Porter was here, acting so strangely nervous, at the moment. "Are you sayin' one of my girls is in trouble?" Wyatt asked carefully. Protectiveness settled in the lawman's gut. He loved his daughters - they were his world - and if someone was threatening them that didn't bode much safety for the accused.

Zeke risked a glance at the sheriff only to be met by two simmering green eyes, as expected. The livery owner knew he'd need to be careful how he worded his next statement. He didn't want to be the one who was on the receiving end of Wyatt Harris' loss of patience. Even though the lawman was highly respected and revered for his composure, Zeke had the words that might just send the man well over the edge. "I saw somethin' the other day, Sheriff... and I don't think you're gonna like it one bit. I wasn't spyin'. I was just goin' 'bout my business, y'see, an' I was gonna head to the office in the livery. I was just doin' my work, Sheriff. I wasn't intendin' on nobody bein' 'round at the time and I- Well, I-"

"Zeke, what did you see?" Wyatt asked warily, narrowing his green eyes suspiciously.

Ezekiel took a deep breath and anxiously licked his lips, as they suddenly felt dry. He felt like he was a fly caught in a spider's web. There was no going back now. He had to tell the sheriff. The man had a right to know. So, with apprehension churning in his stomach, Ezekiel Porter let the words spill from his mouth and he told his account of what he had seen nearly two days prior taking place in the livery across town.

__________________________________________

Edith wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to forget the kiss. Even now her skin began to heat as she thought about it while putting hay into the corner of the small barn that belonged to Puck, the horse. Edith's life had always been very mundane, but she was perfectly happy that way. She liked knowing how the days would go. Dangerous situations weren't something she craved. She had no need for adrenaline or risky situations. She was more of a down-to-earth sort of person and living her life that way had always satisfied her.

The kiss had been completely unexpected and improper. Even Edith had to admit that it simply wasn't done. Sneaking kisses in the livery without a chaperone or even an announced courting was just preposterous! She'd heard women called harlots for less! Yet, she'd enjoyed every moment of it, no matter how brief. And, if she was being honest, she craved another kiss from Cal.

Blackwell BountyWhere stories live. Discover now