Page 22 of Montana Lawman Rescuer
“How are they?”
He tipped his head toward the ceiling. “Little guy is asleep. Emily is out in the washhouse.”
“Oh, good. I wanted to offer her a bath but didn’t know if she would think I was commenting on her condition.”
The sound of the back door opening warned of Emily’s return. She wore a red plaid robe and matching slippers. Her hair hung down her back, now dark as new leather gloves. Her cheeks were pink. Her eyes seemed bluer as if darkened by the evening dusk.
She kept her gaze lowered.
He understood she must feel awkward. “Mikey didn’t even stir when I put him into bed.”
She nodded. “I would have emptied the tub, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted done with the water.”
Gram chuckled. “Jesse has it set to drain to my garden. All he does is pull the plug, and the water runs out through a hose. Not that we’re lazy, you understand.”
It was a joke between them, and Jesse added his usual comment. “I prefer to think of it as efficient.”
Emily grinned at them. “It sounds smart to me. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go up to bed.”
“Of course,” Gram said. “You must be very tired.”
“I am.” She hoisted the basket of clothes, slipped past Jesse, and climbed the stairs.
He stood immobile. Was she going to be okay?
Would she have her memory back when she woke tomorrow morning?
“I’m going to make another round,” he told Gram and went out to the dusky street. He sauntered toward the center of town, his eyes and ears alert for any sign of unusual behavior.
A horse galloped past, almost running him down.
Jesse jumped out of the way and reached for his pistol. If the rider was set on mischief, Jesse would soon persuade him to change his mind, though he would use words before he used his gun.
But the horse skidded to a halt before Dr. Baker’s house, and the rider leaped off. “Doc, Doc.”
Jesse broke into a trot. Sounded like trouble. He might be needed.Please, don’t let it be a death.It was the hardest thing he had to do as a sheriff—take care of bodies and let loved ones know.
The man pounded on the door. “Doc.”
Dr. Baker opened the door. “What is it?”
“My boy is having trouble breathing. We done everything we can think to do.”
Jesse recognized Jed Wallace from down by the river. He had a passel of young ones.
“Let me get my bag.”
“I’ll get your horse,” Jesse called, and he jogged around to the back to saddle the horse Doc kept close by.
The others joined him, and Doc swung into the saddle.
Jesse caught the distraught man’s elbow. “I pray your boy will be okay.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.” He mounted and rode away.
Jesse finished his rounds. Everything quiet. A peaceful, safe little town, just as Grandfather Marshall had planned. Except for three men who had robbed the stagecoach, killed the driver and shotgun rider, and left Emily injured. She was alive, and for that, he was grateful. Perhaps by morning she’d remember who she was.
Would she be someone’s wife? Would she have a family, as she’d wondered?
