Fiction by L.K. Campbell

Red Gorge, Dakota Territory

December 1884

MIRABEL FINDLEY ARRIVED in Red Gorge with winter’s first blizzard. Jumping off the stagecoach, she sank calf-deep into a snowdrift. As she tried to tug her suitcase free, her left foot slid, and she nearly fell back, but the stage driver caught her arm and steadied her. She sighed, whispered thanks, and he tipped his hat before trudging off.

An older man stepped out from the nearest building and picked up her baggage, setting it on the sidewalk with a strained look. She’d packed everything it could hold, rushing to leave Yankton with no plans to return.

“Thank you, sir.” She accepted the hand he offered to help her onto the sidewalk. “Could you direct me to Sheriff Findley’s office?”

“Keep walking straight ahead, ma’am,” he said. “Last building on your left.”

She set out in that direction, dragging her luggage behind her. When she saw the burnished wooden sign, she paused in front of the door. Her chin dropped against the knot in her wool scarf. Why did I come here? Because I would’ve rather had a tooth pulled than crawl home to Illinois. Facing Mama and Papa with my news is the last thing I want to do. On the other hand, she needed Jack’s never-failing, sympathetic shoulder—especially if that marshal changed his mind about her. Oh, please be sympathetic, Jack.

A bell rang above her head when she opened the door. A tall, slender man rose from a desk at the rear of the office.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

She noticed Jack’s name and title etched on a brass plate attached to a large desk at her right.

“Is Sheriff Findley here?”

“No, ma’am.” He crossed the room and stopped a few feet away from her.

His eyes captured her attention. I’ve never seen eyes the color of Swiss blue topaz.

“I’m his deputy. Is there something I can do for you?”

She shifted her gaze to his silver badge. “It’s personal. May I wait for him?”

He massaged his dark blond beard. “That’s fine, ma’am, but I’m not certain how long he’ll be gone.”

Mirabel shrugged a shoulder. “I have nowhere else to go.”

In the relative warmth of the office, she felt comfortable removing her topcoat. She draped it over one of two wooden chairs next to Jack’s desk and sat down in the other chair. The seat’s hard surface wasn’t built for relaxation, but she’d spent seven days riding in a stagecoach. I’m used to discomfort.

The deputy motioned toward a kettle on the wood stove.

“Would you like a cup of coffee while you’re waiting?”

“Oh, thank you, that’s a kind offer. I came in on the stage from Yankton, so I’m chilled to the bone.”

“I can imagine,” he said. “Did it snow during the whole trip?”

“No, it started a few miles past the last way station.”

“I’m hearing a lot of talk about a rail line from Yankton to Rapid City,” he said. “It will sure make for an easier trip.”

She tugged on the fingers of one glove to remove it, but stopped when the deputy hollered.

“Dammit!”

She jumped up.

“Are you injured?”

He drew in a short breath through his teeth. “I burned myself on the kettle.”

Mirabel rushed outside and formed a small snowball. She brought it inside, placed it in his hand, and curled his fingers around it. She couldn’t help noticing his scarred palms like those of men who’d performed hard labor.

“That’s better,” he said. “I’m sorry for my bad language, but I felt stupid for grabbing the kettle handle without using a potholder.”

“You’re going to need more snow.”

She scanned a table next to the stove. That large tin cup will do. She carried it into the street in front of the office and filled it with snow. Upon re-entering the building, she saw that the first snowball had become a puddle at the deputy’s feet. His handsome features displayed a grimace.

“This should stop a mild first-degree burn,” she said.

He pressed his fingers into the snow. It seemed to give him instantaneous relief.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad you know some doctoring.”

Spotting a rag on the table, she used it to wipe the water from the pine floor.

“I’m a nurse. By the way, my name is Mirabel Findley.”

His countenance brightened. “You’re a relative of the sheriff’s?”

“Yes, we’re cousins.”

He seemed to study her face for a moment. “Okay, I see that you favor each other.”

She smiled. With the exception of their sable-colored hair and dark blue eyes, they bore no resemblance. Jack took after the Findleys, while she, on the other hand, inherited her mother’s long, angular nose, short stature, and hourglass figure subject to becoming plump in later years.

“Our fathers were brothers,” Mirabel said. “But I don’t remember Jack’s father. He was killed near the end of the Civil War when I was only three.”

The deputy nodded. “Sheriff Findley has mentioned that.” He removed his fingers from the cup. “The burn is easing off, now. I never did pour your coffee.”

“I’ll get it. Keep your fingers in that slush for a little longer.”

Before grasping it, she patted the kettle’s handle. Her suede glove provided sufficient protection. She found a ceramic cup and poured coffee into it.

“You haven’t told me your name,” she said.

He grinned. Do I detect a pink blush on his cheeks?

“It’s Micah Hansen.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Micah.”

A frigid gust accompanied the ringing bell. Micah’s posture stiffened. “Sheriff…”

She spun around. “Hello, Jack.”

His jaw dropped and froze in place.

“I know you weren’t expecting me,” she said.

He recovered his composure and hugged her. He’d shaved his beard since the last time they’d seen one another. I wonder if the new wife requested it. Otherwise, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Mirabel, why are you in this part of the territory?”

“It’s a long story.” She cast a backward glance toward Micah. “I don’t mean to be rude, Deputy Hansen, but I need to speak privately with my cousin.”

Micah set the tin cup on the table. “I’m heading over to the tavern, Sheriff. I can smell Leroy’s bean and ham soup cooking from here.” He nodded at Mirabel. “Nice to have met you, ma’am. Thanks for the first aid.”

Mirabel smiled. “You’re welcome.”

After Micah donned his long, brown duster and left, Jack returned to their conversation.

“Now, what’s such a big secret that you couldn’t tell me in Micah’s presence?”

She plopped down into the uncomfortable chair again.

“Dr. Poole fired me, Jack.”

He removed his hat and overcoat and hung them on the coat rack.

“Fired? I can’t believe it.”

“Without any proof whatsoever, he accused me of helping a wounded prisoner escape.”

Jack’s eyes darkened and settled on her face. “You didn’t do it, did you?”

His question cut to the quick. Perhaps, I’ve made some poor choices in my life, but I’ve never broken the law…well…to that extent, anyway. Without hesitating, she spilled the whole story.

“Of course, not. I wasn’t even there during the time he got away. Dr. Poole’s secretary informed Marshal Johnson that I must have left the back door unlocked when my shift ended. Then, the night nurse spoke up and said that she’d heard the man sweet-talking me.” Mirabel slammed a fist onto his desk. “None of it was true. I swear it. I was used as a scapegoat for their negligence.”

Jack shook his head. “Why would a U.S. marshal become involved? Who was the prisoner?”

She slumped against the chair. “His name is Danny McGowan.”

“Danny McGowan.” As he repeated the outlaw’s name, Jack’s face reddened and formed a scowl. “My God, Mirabel, every lawman in the territory is looking for him, including me and Marshal Davis from Rapid City.”

At the tone of his voice, she sank lower in her chair. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t suppress her tears. He doesn’t believe me.

“Don’t yell at me, Jack. I didn’t leave that door unlocked because I didn’t go out that way. I left by the side door that day. I’m not lying…I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He turned his back on her with his hands planted on his hips. “I hope you’re not. You’d be putting me in a terrible position if you helped him.” He swung around. “Wait a minute. There should’ve been a deputy guarding him. What was his story?”

“I was told that Charity—Nurse Brand—checked on McGowan later in the evening. She found the deputy out cold, handcuffed to the bed. The officer couldn’t remember how it happened.”

Jack slid the chair from under his desk and sat down. He massaged his forehead for a few moments. I’ve probably given him a headache. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here.

“This is really bad, Mirabel. Suppose Luke Johnson had believed that you were complicit in McGowan’s escape. He could’ve arrested you as an accessory.”

Mirabel shivered. The possibility of being jailed hadn’t even occurred to her. Using her handkerchief, she dabbed at the tears that had rolled down her cheeks.

“Jack, I didn’t take a liking to the prisoner. Helping him flee the clinic never crossed my mind. Yes, he flirted with me. That part was true, but I kept my distance from him because he…” She paused and swallowed. “Scared me.”

“I’m glad he scared you,” Jack said. “I can read a list of his crimes if you’d like to hear them.”

“No, thank you.”

She reached for the coffee and took a sip. It had become lukewarm, but it still soothed her nerves. Silence filled the space between them for a few moments. I wish I could read his mind.

Jack looked up and halfway smiled. “I believe you. Please, stop crying.”

Thank goodness. Her posture straightened, and she dried her eyes.

“That means a lot, Jack. Now, maybe you can write Mama and Papa and tell them…”

“Oh, no, I won’t. That’s something you need to do yourself.” He paused and flattened his palms on the desk. “But I will add a note saying that I believe you, and I think you were wrongfully accused.”

“That’s fair enough, I guess.”

Jack stood, walked to the stove, and poured a cup of coffee.

“So what are your plans?” he asked. “I know you didn’t come all the way across the territory just to cry on my shoulder.”

Yes, I did. “Of course, I couldn’t stay in Yankton. Gossip travels faster than the telegraph. Getting another job there would have been impossible. I couldn’t go home only to disappoint Mama and Papa. The nursing school in Chicago, not to mention my room and board, wasn’t cheap.”

He took his seat and leaned back in the chair. “You’re underestimating Uncle Bill and Aunt Agnes. They love you.”

“Yes, but we both know that I haven’t always made it easy for them.”

“Mirabel, whatever you do, you can’t allow this setback to keep you from pursuing your nursing career. You graduated top of the class and have too much to offer.”

Her chin lifted. There’s the reinforcement that I hoped he’d give me.

“I completed the necessary training and received my midwife certification. I’ve been thinking that with few doctors in the more remote parts of Dakota, my skills could be needed here.”

Jack’s mood seemed to lighten. “As a matter of fact, my wife, Camille, is in the family way. She’s four months along, but when her delivery date comes, it would be wonderful to have you nearby.”

“Good, then she can be my first patient. For now, I need lodging until I make permanent living arrangements. Where the stagecoach stopped, I saw a sign for a boarding house…”

“You can’t stay there,” he said. “It’s for men only. My cabin has a loft room for company. You’ll come home with me.”

Mirabel leaned forward and clasped her hands on the desk. “Jack, you just said that your wife is expecting. Having another woman in her household—and a total stranger at that—might be too much to ask.”

“The only other alternative is the Double S Tavern across the street. Mr. Washburn rents rooms to travelers, but not for the long term. Don’t worry. Camille will probably be glad for the company.”

She eyed the stairs and pointed an index finger toward the ceiling. “Is there a room upstairs? I could clear a spot for myself.”

He shook his head. “That’s where my deputy lives. I don’t think it’s proper for you to stay with him.” He stood. “Finish your coffee while I hitch the horse to the wagon.”

 

If there hadn’t been several inches of snow on the ground, Mirabel could have walked to Jack’s home. She’d covered greater distances on foot in Yankton. He helped her down from the wagon, and she took a moment to admire the scenery. During the warmer months, Jack’s log cabin must have been camouflaged by the setting. Now, it seemed conspicuous among snow-covered evergreens and an icy creek that flowed past it. Smoke billowing from the chimney promised there’d be a cozy fire inside. I can’t wait to stand next to it.

He ushered her inside, and a woman greeted them. Shunning the current fashion, she had swept her golden brown hair up from her temples with tortoiseshell combs. The remainder hung loose over shoulders covered by a knitted, olive green shawl.

“Jack, hurry and close that door before you let all the heat out.”

Mirabel heard a southern accent in the woman’s voice. She knew very little about Jack’s wife. She’d received a letter from her aunt with news that he’d married within a week of meeting Camille. I could never rush into marriage. I’d need more time to become acquainted with the man I marry.

“Camille, I’ve brought company. Let me introduce you to my cousin, Mirabel Findley. She arrived on the stage today.”

Jack’s wife had a friendly smile and wide blue eyes that showed signs of fatigue. She extended a slim hand with long fingers—like a pianist—toward Mirabel.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mirabel. I wish Jack had given me some advance notice of your visit. I could’ve tidied the house.”

In Mirabel’s estimation, the living room, at least, looked spotless.

“I surprised him,” she said. “I should have wired ahead, but I left Yankton in a hurry.”

She stepped further inside the cabin’s main room. Warmth from a large stone fireplace urged her to remove her coat and hat. Jack took the garments and hung them in the closet by the entrance.

“I offered Mirabel a place to stay until she gets settled,” Jack said.

“Please tell me if it isn’t convenient. I don’t want to barge in on you.”

Camille clasped Mirabel’s forearm and walked to the sofa. “You’re not barging in. We’re family, and Christmas is coming.”

“It won’t be for long. I promise,” Mirabel said.

Jack bent down to pick up the suitcase. His face contorted as he lifted the luggage. “Did you pack lead weights?”

“I packed everything I could bring. I’m not returning to Yankton…considering.”

“I hope I can haul this up to the loft without putting my back out.” He paused to address Camille. “Mirabel is a nurse and a midwife. Isn’t that good news?”

“Yes,” Camille said. “One thing we lack in Red Gorge is medical care. Mrs. Fitzgerald’s mine foreman knows some first aid, but I wouldn’t want him to deliver my baby.”

Mirabel laughed. “I should say not.”

Camille motioned for her to sit. “Dr. Bell over in Rapid City said that I’m beginning my fourth month. It surprised me when Jack and I conceived a child so quickly. My previous marriage lasted two years, and we had no children.”

“You were married prior to Jack?”

“Yes, my first husband deserted me for another woman, but in retrospect, his leaving was the best thing for me.”

Mirabel folded her hands in her lap and lowered her head.

“I was divorced once, too.”

“You weren’t divorced,” Jack said as he descended the loft stairs. “She and her little boyfriend ran off to the next county, where they lied about their ages. Uncle Bill had no trouble getting it annulled, and the judge said that they were lucky they didn’t end up in juvenile court for committing fraud.”

Embarrassment swelled within her. “Jack, did you have to…?”

“And a month later, Prince Charming ran off to join a traveling circus.”

Mirabel’s cheeks grew hot. “Jack, I think Camille has heard enough. I may have been sixteen and only married for two days, but it’s a heartbreak I’ve scarcely forgotten.”

Camille scooted closer. She placed an arm around Mirabel’s shoulders.

“Heartache is never easy—especially when we’re young, but the right one will come along and make up for past disappointments.”

Jack coughed and tugged on his gloves. “Since you ladies are talking romance, I’ll return to the office.” He leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I’ll try to be home earlier than usual.”

The halfhearted smile on Camille’s lips gave Mirabel the impression that Jack had worked a lot of late nights recently. A large gust almost blew the door from Jack’s hand. It sent a chill through Mirabel.

“The blizzard is getting worse, it seems,” Camille said. “But we’re well-stocked with firewood and provisions.”

“I hope you don’t mind my being here. I’d be happy to find other accommodations.”

“The only other accommodations are an hour away in good weather,” Camille said. “It’s an even longer trip in the snow. Besides, having a nurse here gives me a sense of security. I feel a little nervous about my pregnancy.”

“Have you been experiencing problems?”

“The sickness is dreadful, and I’m afraid it’s hurting the baby.”

Mirabel placed a hand over Camille’s. “Some women have extreme cases of morning sickness. It doesn’t adversely affect the baby. Does the General Store carry any candy? Peppermint helps with nausea.”

“Yes, Mr. Milton should have it,” Camille said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Take heart, if you’re four months along, you should be past it soon.” She paused and looked toward the loft stairs. “I need to unpack and change into fresh clothes. I’ve worn these for three days. I won’t be long, and then we can talk some more.”

Mirabel gathered her skirt’s hem and climbed the steep stairs with care. Her fear of heights caused her to keep a firm grip on the banister. On a brass bed covered with a patchwork quilt, Jack had placed her suitcase. She unlocked it, opened the plain pine armoire, and began hanging her clothes. Her linen nurse’s uniform had wrinkled in her haste to pack it. It will need ironing if I have the occasion to wear it again. Since she’d been fired, Mirabel had constantly recollected the events of the worst day of her life.

McGowan had been brought to the clinic with a bullet wound in his right arm. As the nurse on duty, she’d assisted Dr. Poole. While she’d changed his bandages later in the day, he’d tried to impress her with fancy talk. She’d brushed him off and tried not to seem flattered because she hadn’t needed or wanted any temptation in her life. The next morning, she’d been confronted with accusations of aiding in his escape. Did Charity Brand leave that door unlocked and let me bear the blame?

She left out her burgundy dress with the black chevrons across the bodice. I’ll change into this one. She took off her green velvet jacket and skirt, draping them over a chair. I’ll hang the garments outside to air out, depending on whether the bad weather breaks anytime soon. She untied the drawstring holding her bustle in place, and stowed the apparatus in the armoire until she had another opportunity for dressing up.

After changing clothes, she checked her appearance in the mirror. A fleeting memory of that nice deputy crossed her mind. I wonder if he has a lady friend. Oh, good grief, Mirabel, put that right out of your mind.

“Mirabel,” she heard Camille call out to her. “I’m brewing a pot of tea.”

She leaned over the railing. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll be right there.”

There’s no need to question anything now. I have to put the terrible McGowan incident behind me and concentrate on my future—whatever it is.

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ISBN-13:9780463265703
Words: 38,544
Published: Oct 30, 2019
Categories: Fiction » Western » Adventure » Mystery & detective » Historical » Romance » Western

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