Lawfully Loved (Texas Lawkeeper Romance) Read online

  Jake put his boot up on the edge of the corral and leaned against it. “That’s a mighty fine piece of horseflesh, Mr. Caldwell.”

  “He is. Comes from a good, strong American bloodline.”

  “Really? Which one?”

  Mr. Caldwell chuckled. “Mine. I breed horses, Deputy. I usually have several at different ages and stages in their training, but other than Moses here, the rest have sold or are being rented at the moment.”

  “In another year, he’ll be ready to sell.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Caldwell stated as he opened the gate to the corral and led the horse into his stall, Jake following after them. As he secured Moses, Mr. Caldwell asked candidly, “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

  Taken aback by his direct inquiry, Jake stuttered out, “Mr. Caldwell, I’m not sure to what you’re referring.”

  “I know you’ve barely met, but she’s my oldest daughter,” he stated as he closed the stall door and walked to the edge of the livery. He stopped and turned to face Jake. “As her father, it’s my duty to ensure her well-being. You didn’t have to come back this morning when she invited you. Also, I saw the way you looked at her last night and the compliments you paid her. I was once young; I know what it means.”

  “Let me assure you, Mr. Caldwell, I’ll respect your daughter at all times.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked—although I’m grateful for your pledge—what I’m wanting to know is if you’re interested in courting my daughter?”

  Jake was shocked by the blunt question and part of him felt guilty for being enticed by Rebecca’s honeysuckle scent and soft golden hair. Since his wife died, Jake hadn’t even looked at another woman, let alone allowed one to enter his thoughts. Yet, even though he should stay away from someone so tempting, he had found his feet taking him to her home just as he promised.

  “Honestly, Mr. Caldwell, I’m not sure I’m ready to make such a commitment. I was married before and she passed away.” He kicked the ground, keeping his eyes averted. “Your daughter seems wonderful, but I don’t want to be disloyal to my wife by courting anyone.”

  “Deputy—”

  “Please, Mr. Caldwell, call me Jake.”

  “Jake, I didn’t know your wife, but I think she would want you to be happy. I’m not saying it’s now or it needs to be with my daughter, but you should find a way to accept your loss before you end up being alone the rest of your life.”

  His eyes jerked up and met Mr. Caldwell’s own. “I’m good at being alone.”

  Mr. Caldwell shook his head. “No one is good at being alone, Jake. We just convince ourselves of that so we can justify keeping others away to not get hurt.”

  Was he right? Was Jake pushing people away because he was afraid? He never considered himself a fearful man, but it was possible he was operating out of such a place. If he continued the pattern, what kind of future would that mean for him?

  Mr. Caldwell interrupted Jake’s thought by saying, “From what I can see, you’re an upstanding man, Jake Bolton. I’ll continue to watch you to determine if my initial evaluation of your character is correct.” Gesturing towards the house, Mr. Caldwell said, “Rebecca is making buttermilk pancakes this morning, and they’re my favorite. We should get inside before my children eat them all.”

  Mr. Caldwell led Jake behind the house and through the backdoor, which opened directly into the kitchen. Rebecca’s head popped up from the stove where she was flipping pancakes on a cast iron griddle. A charming smile crossed her face as she saw them.

  “Good morning,” she said, “there is orange juice and coffee on the table. Help yourself to either.”

  Jake made his way over to the kitchen table and grabbed a cup for coffee. He poured himself a full cup of the liquid heaven. Black coffee had kept him awake many a times when he was working early mornings or late nights, watching men at the jail or investigating clues on cases.

  He took a large swig of the dark drink, and was met with a pleasant taste. Apparently, not only was she a good cook, but she could brew a tasty cup of coffee.

  A few moments later, she brought a platter of pancakes over to the table. After setting them down, she walked over to the edge of the kitchen closest to the front of the house and yelled out, “Lydia, Georgie, it’s time for breakfast.”

  “Your mother isn’t feeling any better?” Jake inquired.

  Rebecca’s head dropped as she shook her head.

  Mr. Caldwell rushed to explain, “It’s not often my wife leaves her room anymore. Don’t take it personally.”

  Jake wondered what ailed the woman. He knew there were all sorts of sicknesses that spread quickly, especially out in the remote parts of the West where medicine and doctors were scarce.

  The children entered the room and sat down at the table. The adults joined them and Mr. Caldwell said a quick prayer before they started eating.

  A few minutes into the meal, the kids started chattering about the town celebration planned for the rest of the day. Apparently, there was going to be a festival with various activities in the afternoon and a dance in the evening.

  Lydia glanced over at Jake with a mischievous smile on her face. “You should come with us, Deputy. I know my sister would like it.”

  Jake’s eyes discreetly wandered to the left where Rebecca was sitting next to him. Her eyes were downcast with her hands folded in her lap and she was red, he assumed, from embarrassment.

  Did she want him to come with the family? More importantly, did she want him to go with her?

  “If all of you would be amicable to me attending with your family, I would be honored,” he said, still staring at Rebecca.

  As if feeling his eyes on her, her eyelids fluttered up exposing her gorgeous blue eyes which were bright with hope. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  They finished the rest of their breakfast and Jake excused himself, stating he would be back at two o’clock to walk with the family over to the festival.

  Joyful anticipation filled Jake’s heart as he thought about the upcoming celebration. He hadn’t planned on meeting a family like the Caldwells when he left Abilene the day before. As he briskly walked back to his room at the saloon, he wondered what would it take to help him put his past to rest so he could move on with his future?

  Five

  As Rebecca looked at herself in the mirror, she arched one eyebrow critically, examining her appearance. The sky-blue day dress brought out her eyes and fit her perfectly, but still allowed her to move freely. She opted for a less elaborate dress—although she only had two in the first place and saved them for church—knowing the festival was going to be full of messy activities from pie-eating contests to three-legged races. Although simple, her dress was the most flattering one she owned.

  She heard Lydia giggle behind her. “What are you doing, silly? Why are you making such a funny face?”

  Mortified to be caught primping, Rebecca swirled around to look at her sister. “Nothing. I was just finishing up getting ready for the celebration.”

  With a tiny shrug, Lydia stated, “Your beau’s here by the way.” Not waiting for a reaction, Lydia bounced out of the doorway and headed down the hallway.

  Rebecca left their shared bedroom and headed towards the front of the house where Jake was waiting in the front entry. As she approached him, she said, “It’s good to see you, Jake.”

  He smiled in return, “As it is to see you, Rebecca.”

  “Give me a moment. I need to retrieve something from the kitchen,” Rebecca stated. A few moments later, Rebecca returned to Jake’s side carrying a pan with a cloth covering it.

  “What’s inside there?” he inquired, his eyes wide with anticipation as he looked at the pan.

  Rebecca answered, “Just my peach pie.”

  “Don’t you mean, your award-winning peach pie, Rebecca?” her father corrected. “After all, you won a blue ribbon at the county fair for that recipe.”

  “That’s impressive, Rebecca,” Jake commend
ed. “Many women enter into those competitions and don’t even place.”

  Blushing, her face turned red. “It’s mostly my grandmother’s recipe with a few additions of my own.”

  “I’ll have to make sure to get a piece before it’s all gone.”

  “If you don’t, I can always make you your own,” she offered.

  “I might have to take you up on that,” he said with a wink.

  The children joined them and they exited the house, walking the short distance to the town square situated between the church and general store.

  On one side of the square, there was a puppet theater set-up as well as a shooting gallery and a long table for the pie-eating contest. Next to the activities, an area designated for ring toss and horseshoe games.

  The other section of the square had a dozen round tables and chairs with red and white checkered tablecloths. Several of the local men and women were putting out all the items for the potluck. Rebecca gave her pan to Lydia and tasked her with taking it over to them. A few minutes later the little girl came running back empty handed.

  On the grass of the church, there were sacks and rope sitting in a pile ready for the races with townsfolk gathering to the area.

  “I think the races are starting soon,” Rebecca told the group.

  Lydia clapped her hands and pointed to the races. “I want to enter the three-legged race.”

  The group headed over to the grassy area in front of the church and joined the group in the center. Rebecca saw Paul Breecher, one of the town council members and owner of the general store, talking to several people at the front of the crowd. He was probably getting ready to kick off the celebration like he did every year.

  He was an average looking man who was only a few years older than Rebecca. Mr. Breecher had moved to Rockwood Springs several years ago—after his wife died in childbirth—to take over the general store when the previous owner passed away, leaving no one to run it.

  Mr. Breecher climbed the church steps and turned to face the crowd. “Good afternoon everyone. It’s good to see all of you this fine afternoon. God saw fit to provide a break in the rain to let us celebrate the founding of Rockwood Springs today. We are a small but proud town and grateful for the blessings we have been given. We are going to start the day off with some races. Feel free to watch or join in on the fun. There will be plenty of other enjoyable activities through the day.”

  Georgie started to take off towards the town square when Lydia called out after him, “Georgie, aren’t you going to race with me?”

  He stopped and turned around, shaking his head. “Racing is for babies. I’m going to go sign up for the pie-eating contest.”

  Lydia’s lip came out as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “But we race together every year.”

  “And we lose every year. I don’t want to anymore.”

  Before anyone could object to his rejection of his little sister, Georgie turned back around and took off running.

  The tears her sister had been holding back plummeted down Lydia’s cheeks as she whispered, “I guess I’m not going to get to race this year.”

  Should Rebecca offer to race with her? Granted, she wasn’t fast, but at least she could still participate. Just as the words for the offer formed on Rebecca’s lips, Jake spoke up. “I can partner with you, Lydia.”

  Rebecca’s eyes grew round as they leapt to the man who continually surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to volunteer considering there was a good chance he would fall down and embarrass himself. Most grown men wouldn’t put themselves in such a position, yet he had done it without hesitation to spare a little girl’s feelings. Her heart melted at the sweet gesture.

  “Thank you, Deputy Jake,” Lydia said as the tears quickly dried up. “I think we are going to win.”

  With a lopsided grin, he chuckled. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high, but I’ll try my best for your sake.”

  * * *

  Jake walked over to the pile of supplies and took two pieces of rope. He walked to the starting line and motioned for Lydia to join him. Bending down, he tied his left leg to Lydia’s right one.

  A few seconds later, a gun fired in the air and the ten pairs of racers took off. At first, Jake and Lydia didn’t look like they were going to get far, but within about five strides, they found a rhythm and started to catch up to the back of the group. By the middle of the race, they were in the middle of the pack and just as they reached the finish line, they crossed in second place.

  Lydia and Jake were laughing as they untied their legs at the side of the race area. As Rebecca and her father came to join them, Lydia said, “It was so much fun, Deputy Jake. Thank you for racing with me.”

  “Why don’t you just call me Jake from now on?” he offered.

  She nodded her head, then stood up and ran off shouting, “I’m going to go see what group of contestants Georgie is in for the pie-eating contest.”

  “I think I’ll go keep an eye on those two youngins’,” Rebecca’s father stated as he turned around to leave.

  Was he trying to give them time alone Jake wondered? He wouldn’t put it past him. Mr. Caldwell had made it clear he was accepting of him courting his daughter.

  Jolted out of his pondering, Jake felt Rebecca’s hand on his arm as she challenged, “Do you want to show me what you can do at the shooting gallery?”

  “I’m not big on competing in such activities,” he stated as he folded his arms across his chest.

  With a wry smile, she narrowed her eyes and countered, “You seemed quite at home competing with my little sister just a few minutes ago.”

  He shrugged, “It’s not quite the same thing, but if you insist—”

  “Oh, I do,” she said, cutting off any further protests.

  A few moments later, they were in front of the booth and Jake had his pistol in his hand. How did he let her talk him into this? Of course, he knew the answer immediately; he wanted to impress her.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t shoot or that he wouldn’t if he had to—both were untrue. He needed to be capable of both as part of his job; his life depended on it. His issue was that when everyone saw him shoot, it was going to bring gawkers around.

  “Are you ready, Deputy?” the red-headed man asked as he placed the targets on the front most boards closest to Jake.

  He nodded and took a deep breath, steadying himself as he squared his feet and shoulders. He raised his hand, pointed the gun at the target and pulled the trigger, all in one fluid motion. He repeated the methodical process, hitting all four targets dead center in rapid succession. Finished, he placed his gun back in its holster with quick precision.

  Just as Jake worried, he was gathering a crowd. Several of the men started to stand around the booth as murmurs and whistles of appreciation circulated around him for his handiwork.

  One of the men—a tall skinny fellow with thinning brown hair—stepped forward and shook his head. “It has to be the gun. You’re used to it and know how to manipulate it. I bet you can’t do that with any other gun, Deputy.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” one of the other men in the group shouted.

  There was another few grumbles in the crowd and suddenly a random gun was being shoved into his hands.

  “Move the targets back, Jerry,” one of the men yelled.

  The booth operator complied and darted out of the way.

  Jake didn’t want to do this; he knew it would only lead to all sorts of questions he didn’t want to answer. If he was lucky, it would only be questions, but there was a good chance someone might recognize him.

  He looked around the group and realized refusing wasn’t an option either. It would enrage most of the men present and likely result in a brawl.

  Internally, Jake sighed as he resigned himself to having to shoot again. He tilted the lighter gun in his hand from side to side, adjusting to the change in weight from his own six-shooter. He pointed the gun at the fresh targets and rapidly pulled the trigger, movin
g his hand purposefully from target to target. Every shot hit their mark again, causing the crowd to be astonished.

  “By golly, he did it again,” one of the men stated with shock. “I can hardly believe it. What are the chances of that?”

  The skinny fellow shook his head and stated adamantly, “Very, very low. Something is odd here.”

  “Don’t be mad, Bobby, just accept the man’s a skilled shot. He can’t fake that. He even used two guns.”

  With narrowed eyes, Bobby demanded, “Jerry, you need to take down the paper targets and let him take a crack at the mechanical ones.”

  “But those are used only in competition, Bobby. I only had them set up so if the kids wanted to shoot at the moving ducks with bee-bee guns they could. This fella might be a deputy, but he won’t stand a chance against those targets. You don’t want to embarrass the man, do you?”

  As Jake looked at Bobby, it was clear from his resolved expression, it was exactly what he wanted to do. It seemed Jake wasn’t getting out of going another round against the new targets.

  Tired of being pushed, Jake focused his attention back on the target and lifted the gun in his hand. He watched the pattern for several seconds, letting his eyes and body follow the rhythm. With expert accuracy, he knocked down duck after duck until the gun was empty, then pulled out his own gun and knocked down six more. With a couple of spins around his finger, he returned his gun to its home.

  “I can’t believe my eyes,” one of the men blurted out.

  Another one stated in disbelief, “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t think it could happen.”

  “How is this possible?” Bobby asked, dumbfounded.

  Pushing through the extremely large crowd, a burly man with a thick, long beard came up to stand next to Jake. He placed his arm across the deputy’s shoulders as he stated, “It’s possible because this here is ‘Bullseye’ Bolton.”

  There were several gasps around the crowd and a few questions about who the man was speaking of. Jake stiffened under the scrutiny. He wanted to bolt before his past in the military was discussed publically.