A Yuletide Home for the Runaway Bride (Preview)

Chapter One

Boston, 1887

The wedding dress really was fabulous. Allowing her husband-to-be to choose the dress had been a stroke of genius, it seemed.

Selena took a step back, admiring the lengths of lace and silk, flowing down from a tight waistband. It would be the most decadent dress she’d ever worn, and she knew in her heart that if she’d chosen her own dress, she would have picked something simpler and less showy. But then, it was her wedding dress. When could a woman look showy, if not on her wedding day? Besides, Vincent could afford it; everybody knew that. Thoughtfully, Selena fiddled with the silk-covered buttons at the wrists of her gloves. They were another present from Vincent, pale pink gloves that covered her work-reddened hands. He didn’t approve of ladies having rough hands, and that was where the gloves came in handy.

She would have to thank him for the dress. Vincent would fly into a rage if she didn’t thank him properly.

Turning on her heel, Selena hurried down the hallway, heels click-clacking on the stone floor. The house was a large one, with sprawling corridors and endless rooms which even now could confuse Selena if she let it. Vincent did not live here with her of course and wouldn’t until the marriage took place. He liked to do things properly.

Still, he kept a study at the back of the house, and it was toward this room that Selena trotted.

Thank you, Vincent, she rehearsed in her head. The dress is beautiful, truly beautiful. What a pity I can only wear it once! And the cufflinks arrived, the ones you ordered for my brother. Daniel will love them.

Vincent liked gratitude. He’d be pleased to hear her gush over the dress and the cufflinks. And really, that was what married life was all about, wasn’t it? A woman learning how to please her husband. It was something that concerned Selena, as occasionally Vincent would enter a dark, angry mood, and then nothing she said or did could please him.

There was a bruise around her upper arm, a ring of fingermarks which served as a reminder that she should work harder to please him. Selena could not even remember what she had said, but it had been an off-hand remark that he had not liked. His hand had shot out like a snake, fingers curling around her upper arm and squeezing until she cried out in pain.

“Mind your tongue around me, Selena,” he’d snapped, eyes flashing. “Or I shall teach you to do so.”

She’d fled the room, of course, as soon as he released her, and the next day he had been all sweetness and delight, showering presents upon her and telling her how pretty she looked. It made her feel as though she’d almost imagined his anger. The bruises on her arm said otherwise, however.

That thought struck a sort of discord inside Selena, but she carefully put the troublesome idea away and placed her hand on the doorknob of her almost-husband’s study.

Then she heard a voice from inside.

“Of course we had to kill him, Daniel. He would have told the lawmen.”

Selena blinked, frowning. She must have misheard that sentence. Surely, she could not have heard such a thing from her fiancé. A few flights of temper were one thing, but this…

Her heart sank further into her stomach when she heard her brother’s voice in response.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t have touched his cattle,” Daniel ventured, his voice catching. His voice only did that when he was nervous, very nervous. Selena could hear the fear in her twin’s tone. “We could have left him alone and concentrated on the larger ranches to the east and south.”

Selena heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor. “I don’t appreciate you questioning me, Daniel. You aren’t my brother-in-law just yet, remember.”

“Y-Yes, of course. I am sorry, Vincent. I suppose I’m a little on edge.”

It was strange hearing Daniel so nervous. He was stuttering, and he never stuttered.

Although, how do I know that? I never speak to him anymore. Since my engagement, he has become withdrawn and a little sullen.

“On edge? What for?” Vincent snapped with a harsh laugh. “Business is booming.”

The business of what? Cattle rustling?

“Well, the Carlton Bank robbery went so poorly, didn’t it?” Daniel said, and Selena frowned, letting her hand slip off the doorknob. She remembered vaguely reading something in the newspaper about a bank robbery several towns over, before Vincent snatched the paper out of her hand and told her that she would get newsprint ink on her silk gloves.

There had to be a misunderstanding. She was sure of that. This whole thing was some huge joke, and at any moment Daniel would whisk open the door and laugh loudly at the horror on her face.

“We aren’t bank robbers or cattle rustlers, you silly goose!” Daniel would laugh. “Look at her face, Vincent.”

“You really believed us, eh?” Vincent would respond, breaking into a wide grin that she’d never seen on his face before. Vincent did not believe in unnecessary smiles in much the same way that he did not believe in rough hands on ladies.

The door didn’t open. There was no laughter. Instead, there was a long pause, and then Vincent spoke again.

“I trust I can let you handle the bank funds, Daniel?” Vincent said at last.

“Of course.”

“Leave it until after the wedding. I don’t care for distractions. This marriage is meant to bring us closer together, after all. That was the bargain, was it not? You get security and more opportunities, and I get your pretty sister. With a family connection, we can try at last to build a dynasty. Everybody wins.”

Selena’s back bumped against the wall behind her, and her breath caught in her throat. What? This wasn’t how it had happened.

Vincent had proposed to her one month ago. He had told her that he was in love with her, and that he wanted so badly to make her happy. He had pointed out that since he and her brother were engaging in business together, a match between them would be ideal.

Selena had agreed. It did make sense. She did not love Vincent, but such feelings came later, didn’t they? Older women said that it was better that the husband should love his wife more than the wife should love her husband.

Were they all wrong?

I’m part of a bargain, Selena realized in a dizzying rush. Daniel and Vincent managed it between them.

One of her silk gloves snagged on something, and there was a faint tearing sound. She barely noticed it.

I’m nothing to them. Nothing.

“And even when we are brothers-in-law, you’d best mind your manners, Daniel,” Vincent added, and his chair scraped again. “Do not forget who is in charge, not ever, d’you hear?”

Selena heard footsteps and realized, in a sickening rush, that he was crossing the room toward the door. Panic tightened around her chest and she scrambled backward, her long, lacy skirts tangling around her legs and threatening to trip her up. She reached the parlor just as the study door clicked open down the hall.

Should I run?

The idea of fleeing landed in Selena’s mind with a thump, and the thought would not go away. She stared at her wedding dress, its tangled lengths of lacy silk suddenly beginning to look a lot more like a shroud instead of a bridal gown. Bile crawled up her throat.

Then the gentlemen came strolling into the room behind her, filling the delicate, pastel-colored parlor with their loud voices and heavy laughter.

Vincent led the way, his black hair greased carefully back, brown eyes dancing in a well-featured face. He was handsome, a fact which Selena liked to remember when the evenings grew long and the doubts crowded in.

Daniel scuttled behind him, eyes lingering on Vincent like an obedient puppy. At one time, he and Selena had been the ones walking in step in such a way. They resembled each other properly, like twins should, with matching auburn locks, crisp green eyes, and freckled, almost androgynous features. Selena had always thought that the two of them were perfect to play the twins Viola and Sebastian in Twelfth Night.

She couldn’t recall the last time she had spoken to her brother without Vincent around, and the realization of that made her feel faintly sick.

All thoughts of Shakespeare and twinhood fled Selena’s mind as Vincent strode toward her, eyes creasing in a half-smile.

“There’s my beautiful bride,” he murmured, extending a hand. She placed hers in his palm mechanically, as was expected. “Do you like your dress?”

There was a beat of silence, during which Selena struggled to speak. Vincent’s eyes hardened, and he pushed his thumb into the center of her palm, pressing down until pain exploded through her hand.

He draped his other hand over her wrist, two fingertips pressing into her wrist, just at the line of her glove. He pressed hard, as if he were taking her pulse, but it created an awful, sickening sort of pain.

“It’s beautiful,” she managed, pleased that her voice did not shake. “Forgive me, I… I was overcome with delight.”

This seemed to please him. He smiled, and his grip on her hand relaxed. Selena could still feel the mark of his thumb in her palm, and the line of his fingernails against the soft underside of her wrist. He dropped her hand, almost carelessly, and she knotted her fingers together, safely.

Surely, she’d misunderstood. Surely, she had misheard. To be sure, there was a good deal of vagueness in town regarding how Vincent had his money, but all of Selena’s doubts had been wiped away when Daniel began to work for him. With him. If there was anything amiss, anything dishonest, Daniel would surely never have gone along with it.

Would he?

How long has it been since you spoke to Daniel? How long has it been since this distance sprang up between you?

Oh, and there was distance between them now. Like a boat drifting away from shore, she had not quite realized just how far apart she and her beloved brother had grown until now. And now, of course, was entirely too late.

Selena’s gaze slipped over Vincent’s shoulders, trying to catch her brother’s eye.

Daniel was not looking at her. He had pressed himself into a corner and worried his lower lip between his teeth.
His gaze was fixed on the wedding dress, and a single line of anxiety creased between his brows.

How could you do this to me? Selena thought dizzily.

Vincent’s hand tightened on hers, a sure sign that he had noticed that her attention was elsewhere and would like her to stop.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, still all smiles, but with an edge creeping into his voice. “And what on earth have you done to your gloves? This one is torn. I suppose I had better teach you to take care of your things, Selena. You must learn.”

He extended a hand again, and she knew she had to give him hers. She did so, and he closed his fingers gently over hers.

Just a little pressure, and he would tighten his grip on my fingers like a vise. Could he break my hand, if he wanted to do so?

The answer, she feared, was yes. A following question arrived in her head at once.

Would he want to do it?

The answer to that, too, seemed like a nauseating yes.

Selena swallowed thickly. If she showed that she had heard a word of what they had said, her life would not be worth a straw. She had seen Vincent stamping on spiders and insects whenever he saw them, and he loved to hunt and shoot various animals. It occurred to her then that he would treat her in exactly the same way.

“I beg your pardon,” she managed, more coolly than she would have expected of herself. “I shall endeavor to learn, my love.”

***

Three Weeks Later

Selena jerked awake, mouth dry, head hammering.

I dreamed about it again, she thought wildly.

The dream, such as it was, had plagued her incessantly for the past four days. Unfortunately, it was not a nightmare which could be dismissed by reassuring herself that it wasn’t real.

No, the conversation she had overheard was fully real. It all made sense now. Daniel had acted strangely ever since he began working for Vincent. His nudging of Selena toward Vincent had not been subtle. And even Vincent’s pursuit of her had been… well, mechanical. Formulaic. He said he loved her, and Selena was happy to accept that, but when had he shown that he loved her?

She sat stiffly on the over-stuffed sofa, striped pink and green, and faced the dying fire. Selena had fallen asleep in the parlor, and now her neck was aching horribly. The winter was drawing in, and it was getting cold. She wanted to get up and pace wildly around the room, like a caged animal, but ladies did not pace. Ladies sat coolly and composedly and thought.

It was clear that she must escape. She could not marry Vincent, not now.

If only she had somewhere to go.

A tentative knock on the door made her jump. Selena straightened her back a little more, cleared her throat, and spoke.

“Come in.”

Daniel’s red-brown head poked through the door. His face was almost as pale as the white wallpaper beside him.
When did we come strangers? Selena thought with a pang, but there were no answers to be had.

“I’m going into town to pick up some last-minute things for the wedding tomorrow,” he said, offering a faint smile. “Would you like to come?”

Selena considered it briefly. “I think I would. I should like to stretch my legs. I find myself restless.”

Ladies weren’t allowed to be restless. Selena had a number of friends amongst the upper society here in Boston, and she knew how they were meant to behave. They were not meant to complain or fidget or rail against their lot in life. They politely accepted what they were given, whether that was a cup of coffee or a husband who thought of them as nothing more than a pretty ornament to display.

Daniel chuckled. “Nervous, eh? It’s just wedding jitters. All brides are nervous on the eve of their wedding.”

Selena smiled tightly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

One hour later, they were traveling through the town in Daniel’s high-sprung carriage, nodding solemnly to members of their acquaintance. As they passed the post office, Selena cleared her throat casually.

“Let me down here, Daniel. I’ll just step into the post office and see if anything has arrived for me.”

“Are you expecting anything?”

“No, not particularly, but I should like to check.”

Daniel grunted in agreement and carefully drew the carriage over to the curb. Selena dismounted and hurried inside, trying not to seem too eager. When the clerk behind the counter informed her that yes, indeed, a letter had arrived for her, she almost wept. Pastor Hayes’ curly handwriting floated across the envelope – this was the letter she’d waited for.

There was no question of taking it home to read, of course, and she did not want to attract attention by reading it right there in the post office. So, Selena was obliged to stand out on the street, the breeze disarranging her hair and pushing her hat back on her head. She barely noticed. Tearing open the envelope with a pounding heart, she began to read.

Dear Miss Mitchell,

I have news regarding the matter we discussed. I have sent this letter by the speediest post I can afford, and I pray that it arrives before the event of your wedding. I have thought and prayed long and hard, and the solution has occurred to me.

I have a daughter named Grace. She is twenty-five years old and works as a nurse. Our town is a small one, and is plagued with troubles, and she and I can take care of you. The town requires a schoolteacher, and I recall how you always wished to be a schoolteacher. We are expecting you. Travel as quickly as you can to us and give your name as Miss Rose Harper.

It is clear to me that when you leave Boston, your absence will be missed. You’ll be searched for, quite thoroughly. Lie low, for Heaven’s sake. Keep details of your personal life to yourself and trust nobody. A man like your fiancé sounds as though he will stoop to anything.

I suppose a pastor like me ought not to encourage members of their flock to lie. But on the other hand, your safety is my primary concern here. I pray for you to act wisely and carefully, Miss Mitchell. You and your brother were always my favorites when you were children, and I had high hopes for you both. I imagined that you would become a schoolteacher, Miss Mitchell, the way you always wanted.

But enough of that – I am a silly, sentimental man. I’ve enclosed a one-way ticket for a train tonight, leaving your town and going to your destination. Oh, by the way, I suppose I should have straight away – you are going to Colorado, to a small town named Cedar Ridge. You should surely be safe there.

Godspeed, Miss Mitchell. Or should I say, Miss Harper?

Your Friend,

Pastor Samuel Hayes

Selena read the letter twice more, to be sure that she’d absorbed all the important points of it. She took out the train ticket with a shaking hand, biting by a cry of relief.

Just one ticket. What would happen if I bought a second and begged Daniel to come with me? What would he do?

Is it a risk I want to take?

Again, no answer was forthcoming, so Selena let out a ragged breath and put the thought away.

This was good. This was a good sign. Stuffing the ticket into her sleeve, she carefully disposed of the letter, tearing it into little pieces. It would do her no good to keep it.

***

Later that night, Selena lay awake. Outside, frost tightened on the windows, blurring her view of the star-studded sky. As winter moved on, the frost would even form on the insides of her window. Would it be colder in Colorado?

I don’t care if I go to the North Pole, she thought woodenly, so long as I can leave Vincent Garrett and my traitorous brother behind.

Thoughts of Daniel gave her a pang of misery. She considered knocking him on the head and packing him in a trunk, the idea making her smile wistfully. He’d changed at some point, and she could not understand how or why.

Something else is at work here. Where has my brother gone?

Am I ever going to find out?

She thought back and back, trying to pinpoint the moment that Daniel had changed. No particular moment presented itself to her. Perhaps it was a more gradual thing.

She wanted so badly to believe that he was innocent, but then, why would he push her toward Vincent?

Enough of that, she thought, as the clock began to chime midnight. Vincent was not in the house tonight – it was bad luck to share the same roof as his bride the night before the wedding, he’d said – and Daniel was long asleep.

Selena was already dressed, a modestly packed carpet bag waiting for her under her bed. She crept downstairs in her stockinged feet, for stealth, and slipped out of the front door. It was icy cold outside, and her toes numbed as she hopped around to put her boots on.

When her boots were on, Selena drew in a deep, ragged breath, and turned to face the long, dark road ahead of her.

She had pinned a brief note of explanation to her wedding dress, which would not be discovered until eight o’ clock, when the maid came to dress her for her wedding day. It would take her hours to walk to the train station, but her train was due to leave at half past four in the morning.

And then, she thought with determination, walking forward, I’ll be free of this place. I’ll be free of Vincent.

Or so she hoped, at least. Selena exhaled, her breath fogging out in front of her in the icy air like a cloud. Her footsteps crunched on the frosty grass.

She did not look back.

Chapter Two

Cedar Ridge, Colorado

A cup of coffee was plunked unceremoniously down in front of him, making Dean jump.

Some of the coffee splashed over the side, soaking the extreme corner of the piece of paper he was writing on. Biting back a sigh, he whipped the paper away from the growing puddle of coffee, shaking free a few drops.

“I wish you’d be careful, Jim.”

Jim Brown, the deputy, was twenty-one years old and the most heavy-handed fellow Dean had ever met. He sniffed, shuffling back to his own desk.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was busy thinking about all the work we had to get done today. It seems that every holiday brings more and more work. This Christmas will be even more busy than last Christmas.”

Dean tightened his jaw. He’d spent the past week trying to forget that it was December at all.

“Yes, well, it’s our duty to serve the town, Christmas or not.”

Jim snorted, propping his boots up on the table. “And that fine, upstanding attitude is why you’re the sheriff of Cedar Ridge and I’m the deputy.”

“That is not the only reason, Jim. Get your feet down from that desk.”

Dean dragged his gaze from the deputy, who was now slurping his own coffee, and stared down at the pile of paperwork in front of him. Jim might be an idiot, but he was certainly right about their workload doubling. Cedar Ridge was a growing town, and bigger towns meant bigger problems.

Problems which Dean was no longer sure he could manage. The words on the papers blurred into nothing.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at his work and not lifting a finger. His thoughts spiraled into nothing, one after another, and he was inclined to think of a train leaving its tracks, careening into disaster.

A cleared throat made him flinch. He glanced up to find not Jim looming over him, but the mayor.

Tom Brennan was thirty-five, which was considered young to be a mayor, but then he was a fine, upstanding family man with a knack for politics and getting things done, to say nothing of a few gray hairs at his temples which made him seem older and wiser.

“Can I have a word, Dean?” Tom asked mildly. “Might we close your office door?”

Dean’s personal office was little more than a closet with a door. Jim’s desk sat out in the larger area of the sheriff’s office, with a waiting area and a few counters, and a door out back which led to the jails.

When Dean nodded silently, Tom reached back with his heel and kicked the door shut. That’s how small the office was.

When the door shut, Dean caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the fingerprint-smudged glass set in the middle of it. It wasn’t an impressive sight.

Hunched up behind the desk, his usual height and breadth was diminished. His hair needed a brush and wash and stuck up from his head. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were already too light a blue for his dark coloring. Dragging his gaze away from his disappointing reflection, Dean glanced back up at the mayor.

“What can I do for you, Tom? Is… Is Emma okay?”

Tom sighed. “Your daughter is just fine.”

“Did she get to school today?”

“No school today, Dean. The teacher left, remember?”

Dean blinked. “Oh, yes. Of course. I must have forgotten. I… I appreciate you taking care of her. Truly, I do. It won’t be for long.”

Tom nodded, pressing his lips together. “We don’t resent helping you, Dean, but… well, this can’t go on. Mary’s been dead for two years this Christmas, and she is not coming back. You have to go on. She wouldn’t want you dead in the water this way.”

Dean flinched hard at that awful word. Dead. The finality of it all.

Of course, Mary was dead. She was buried up by the local chapel with a nice little gravestone which Dean washed down and took care of the first Sunday of every month. Their new pastor, Pastor Hayes, was a kindly, mild-mannered fellow, and didn’t lecture Dean about working on the Lord’s Day like the previous pastor had. In fact, Pastor Hayes would often come out with a flask of coffee and a little pair of stem-snippers to help the work along.

“What are you getting at, Tom?” Dean responded sharply.

Tom hooked an ankle around a chair and pulled it up toward the desk. He sat down heavily.

“I mean that you have to move on. You must. Mary is gone and we all know you miss her, but Emma is still here. Your job is still here.” Tom tapped a fingertip on the table. “You’re getting sloppy, Dean. You were never sloppy. The town needs a sheriff they can count on. For example, this business with the new schoolteacher. You forgot that we needed a new one, didn’t you? The local children could have gone weeks more without a teacher. Education is important.”

“I’ll hire a new one.”

Tom sighed. “I’ve hired a new one. Dean, I’m not here to kick you up the backside. You’re my friend. You’re a fine sheriff and a fine father, and I know you were a good husband, too. I just need you to help me out, okay? The school board wasn’t happy that you dropped the ball on this one. People are complaining, and I can only quiet them down for so long, you know.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek till he tasted copper. He knew that Tom was right. This last misstep was one too far. Cedar Ridge was growing, and growing towns cared about things like education and a sheriff who didn’t lose himself in hazes of daydreams and grief.

Tom had covered for him long enough, that was for sure. For the first year after Mary’s death, nobody said a word about Dean’s erratic behavior. Tom and his family cared for Emma, and even Jim stepped up to try and pick up the slack in the sheriff’s office.

Now, though, people were running out of patience.

Dean passed a hand over his face. “You’re right, Tom. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll do better.”

Tom nodded, offering an almost apologetic smile. “I know you will. You know what you need? You need a win.”

“A win?”

“Yes, sir. And I’ve got one for you. Now, the train is arriving in half an hour, and I have it on good authority that there’s a thief on board. Money and jewelry have gone missing on the journey here, between the last stop and this one. I had a rider sent ahead to me to warn me, and my guess is that the thief will cut their losses and get off here. We’ll be ready for them. The victims have been told to sit tight and wait. Can you handle that, Dean?”

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll handle it, Tom.”

Tom beamed. He looked relieved. “Good. That’s good.”

***

The sun shone down, but its warmth was weak. The air was frigid with cold, and snow already piled up thickly in the corners. In the main part of town, the roads were shoveled clear. However, as winter progressed, Dean knew that the snow would become too much to handle. They’d have to content themselves with carving little paths through the snow, winding through the unbroken blanket of white. Colorado winters weren’t something to be sniffed at.

Dean shifted himself, shuffling around so as not to let his extremities freeze up. He could see the distant black smudge of the approaching train, its plume of steam barely visible against the gray clouds.

Jim yawned and stretched beside him.

“So, all I have to do is go through the train and look for anybody acting suspicious?” he repeated.

Dean bit back a sigh. He’d actually given Jim more instructions than that, but it seemed that he was talking to the wall.

“Sure, Jim. Just keep your eyes peeled, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll stay out here, as Tom thinks the thief might try and make a run for it here. The conductor’s promised to stay here a little longer than usual, so we can try to get to the bottom of it all.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully. “So, when you say suspicious, you mean… shifty? Somebody’s who’s funny-looking?”

“What? No, Jim. I mean someone who seems on edge. Looking around as if they’re being followed, maybe walking faster than the others. Somebody’s panicked. Look for sweaty brows, shifting eyes, that sort of thing.”

“Whoever this fellow is, he must be good,” Jim observed. “Apparently a lot of jewels have gone missing.”

“It would be a mistake to think of his thief as only a man,” Dean responded.

Jim shot him a surprised look. “You can’t mean that this thief might be a woman or a child?”

“Why not? Children are more light-fingered than adults, most of the time, and women can be seen as more trustworthy. Remember that, Jim. Nobody can be trusted, not truly.”

Jim was quiet after that, and Dean wondered if he’d been too heavy-handed. Dean himself was thirty years old, and he’d seen a bit of life. Jim, on the other hand, was twenty-one and full of brightness and innocence. Was it right to try and tarnish a person’s naivety? Or was it cruel to let the world come rushing in and do it for them?

There wasn’t time to think about it, because at that moment the train came chugging tiredly into the station, slowing to a crawl. There were a few travelers waiting on the platform, yawning and rolling their shoulders, getting ready to board and find their seats. Catching Jim’s eye, Dean gave him a nod, and Jim wordlessly moved over to the travelers, planning to get on board with them.

Chances were that the thief already knew that they’d been made. They would be poised to disembark right away, probably clutching their luggage to their chest, full of their ill-gotten earnings.

He’d have to be quick.

The station master strolled along the platform, unlocking the doors one by one. The doors opened, and the passengers poured out. Dean deliberately stood in the middle of the platform so that the passengers would have to walk around him.

A family stepped off first, a thin man and haggard-looking woman, balancing bags of luggage and at least six squalling children.

Not them, Dean thought. Next came a couple who were clearly newlyweds holding hands and beaming adoringly up at each other. They didn’t even look at Dean as they passed by. Probably not those two, then.

A stream of elderly ladies followed, clearly all friends, talking and laughing and nudging each other as they hobbled along the platform. Dean stepped out of their way, touching his hat as he did so. It wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that one of the old ladies had taken the jewels, but realistically, their thief was most likely working alone.

At that moment, the most beautiful woman Dean had ever seen stepped off the train.

It took him aback, and he stood there, smack bang in the middle of the train platform, and just stared at her like some sort of gawking idiot.

The woman was about twenty-one or two, he guessed, and most certainly not a local. She was small and neat, wearing a simple gray dress that seemed to be made out of good, expensive material, clutching a carpet bag to her chest. She had the most vivid auburn hair Dean had ever seen, a shade of red hair that would send the Cedar Ridge school board into fits, and a pale, smooth face. There was something almost androgynous about her, but there was no denying that she was a woman, and a beautiful one at that.

She took a tentative step forward, tightening her grip on her carpet bag, and glanced nervously around the platform. It was pretty clear that she had no idea where she was going, her bright green eyes darting here and there, looking for clues. That vivid gaze swept over Dean, pausing for only an instant.

Drawing in a shaking breath and visibly steeling herself, the woman began to walk forward across the platform. She held herself very stiffly, eyes swiveling around constantly. She even kept looking behind her, into the train carriage, as if she might be pursued.

She was just about level with Dean, a few feet across from him, when he realized just how stupid he had been.

It’s her, he thought belatedly. She’s the thief. Nobody would object to a pretty woman like that coming close to them. She’ll mesmerize them like she just did me. Her mistake is being too pretty – nobody will forget her face when they realize their gold pocket watch is missing.

He cleared his throat and took a step toward her. She noticed him at once, shying away like a nervous deer.

“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he drawled, moving toward her. “But I wonder if I could have a word?”

She backed away rapidly. “I… I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to talk to you.”

She had a genteel sort of accent, but there was a twang of something coarser underneath, as if she’d had elocution lessons at some point in her life.

He gave a tight smile and tapped the shiny sheriff’s badge on his chest.

“You see that, missy? Sheriff Thornton. That’s me. And I’d like a word with you.”

If she was innocent, she wouldn’t have anything to fear from a sheriff, so she should relax a little. Dean was on the lookout for that, waiting for her to tense up or to relax. He would act accordingly.

She tensed up.

“What is this about?” she asked, her voice a little too loud. Some of the other passengers were glancing their way now, frowning at the sight of a tall, bulky sheriff looming over a petite, pretty little woman. Dean sighed.

“Let’s not make this difficult, ma’am. I don’t want a scene. Just come with me.”

Her jaw tightened and her eyes hardened. That was all the warning Dean had before she bolted.

Boy, the woman could run. She lifted up her skirts and raced as far as her short legs could carry her, the carpet bag jammed under one arm. Her limbs pumped the air, and her hair came loose from its bonnet, streaming out behind her in a ropelike braid.

“Hey! Hey!” Dean bellowed, racing after her.

She was nippy to be sure, but his legs were much longer than hers. He pounded down the hard-packed dirt road of the main street, the distance narrowing between them. She must have known that he was closing on her, but she kept running and running, the desperate sort of running that only came when a person had nothing to lose.

When he was close enough, Dean snatched her up. With a larger person, he would have to tackle them to the ground, but this lady was small enough for him to snatch up in his arms. She screamed and began to fight him, dropping the carpet bag. Dean pinned her arms to her sides and held her up enough so that her kicking legs wouldn’t catch him.
There was no sign of Jim, which was just typical, so Dean had to wait until she’d tired herself out enough for him to tuck her under one arm and reach down to get the dropped carpet bag. There’d be evidence in there, and by evidence, he meant the stolen jewelry and money.

Of course, quite a crowd had gathered around them, watching with mingled horror and amusement.

“Nothing to see here,” Dean called. “Just sheriff’s business.”

“Some sheriff you are,” the woman suddenly said, her voice resigned and bitter. “Let me go. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Sure you haven’t.”

“I was invited here.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

She wriggled again. “Then let me go.”

“You’re going to jail, missy.”

She gave a short, sour laugh. “Jail? How did he wrangle that, I wonder?”

This seemed like an odd speech to Dean, but he shook his head and stopped thinking about it. With the carpet bag tucked under one arm and the woman under another, he set off at a brisk stride toward the sheriff’s office. He’d fill Jim in on what had happened when the deputy brought himself back.

“It was Pastor Hayes who invited me,” the woman spoke up, after a moment.

Dean frowned at that but ultimately kept walking. Tom was right – he needed a win, and capturing a bold jewel thief was going to be just the win he needed. Glancing down at his prisoner, who’d gone limp and miserable in his grip, Dean swallowed down a sudden feeling of unease.

I sure hope I’ve got the right person, he thought worriedly.