A Sheriff for the Gracious Widow (Preview)

Chapter One

Emily Carter tapped her fingers against the kitchen table. The tapping sound echoed throughout the empty kitchen. A clock hung over the doorway. Its ticking accompanied her fingers in providing background noise in the otherwise silent house.

Things weren’t supposed to end up this way. Emily had been married less than a year ago. She was supposed to be making dinner for her husband in anticipation of his arrival after a day’s work. Emily had hoped that by now, she’d be expecting her first child. 

How she hated the silence! 

Her eyes filled with familiar tears that she blinked away. Instead of love and laughter, her home was filled with quiet. 

The kitchen, the heart of the homestead, was made from rough-hewn logs. Emily and Richard had bought it soon after they were married. It was the first home she had to herself ever since… Emily clenched her eyes shut. No. 

She breathed deeply and took stock of her surroundings. It helped to focus on what was around her. A cast-iron stove stood in the corner, a fire crackling merrily in its depths. She had just finished cooking a meal- a simple but hearty stew that would keep for the next few days. 

She ran her hands along the table’s wooden surface. Her table was worn smooth from decades of use. They had gotten it at a local market. Emily breathed through the pain as she remembered seeing the table at the stall. 

***

“What do you think?” Emily asked, wiping her hand over the table’s surface. 

Richard rubbed his chin and took a step back. “I think the only thing I like about it is the price!” 

The old woman who was selling her belongings scowled at Richard. “There’s no finer table in the whole wide West; I’ll have you know.” 

Richard scratched the back of his neck. His handsome face turned red from embarrassment, and Emily hid her smile. A thrill went through her when she looked at him. He was incredibly handsome, with wide shoulders and a tanned face. His brown hair curled around the nape of his neck, and his piercing green eyes always hinted at hidden depths. 

She had yet to uncover all his secrets, but they had all the time in the world. And who cared if he hid a few things about himself? She certainly hadn’t told him everything about herself yet. They hadn’t known each other that long, but they were bound by a common goal- they wanted a large family. 

Richard was kind, honest, and dependable. He had a good job and he would be a good father. What did the rest matter? 

“I like it.” Emily put her hands on her hips. “It’s fit for a king!” 

Richard’s easy laugh was less reassuring than she would have liked. Was he patronizing her? 

“You heard the lady. We’ll take it,” Richard told the woman. 

“That’ll be ninety cents,” she said, holding her hand out expectantly. 

Richard winced and looked over at Emily, who was already pulling the money from her purse. The woman’s eyebrows rose as she took the money from her. 

“We’re using my inheritance to furnish our home,” Emily said, wanting to fill the awkward silence. “We got married two days ago.” 

The woman didn’t say anything, but gave Richard a searching glance before shrugging and ambling away to help another customer. 

“You don’t need to tell everyone our business.” Richard’s tone was muted, and the tips of his ears were red. 

“I’m sorry.” Emily shrugged as she turned to the table. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“How can it not matter?” Richard ran a hand through his hair. “Not only is your inheritance paying for our furniture, it bought our house too! How can I call myself your husband when you’re the one paying for everything?” 

Emily frowned. “Are you vexed with me? My parents wanted me to use this to establish my home someday. Isn’t that what we’re doing? Besides, we’ll have to rely on your wages from here on out! Well, at least until the rest—” 

Richard’s blush deepened. “Let’s not talk about this now.” 

Emily let out a huff at his interruption. She turned to the table and ran her hand over its smooth surface again. “Can’t you just see our children eating breakfast around this table?” 

Richard’s expression softened. “Yes, of course. In no time at all, we’ll have our very own brood.” 

She beamed at him, relieved that the awkwardness between them was dissipating. 

*** 

Emily leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. Things hadn’t always been easy between her and Richard, but they were getting to know each other better every day. It was true that she had married him because it seemed like the best option at the time, but she had been growing to love him. Or, at least, she thought she was. 

Now, she’d never know. Their hopeful future had been snatched from them in the blink of an eye. It was five months later, and she was still grappling with the loss.  

Nearby, a stack of split logs and kindling were neatly arranged. The stack had taken two whole days of hard labor on her part. It was yet another chore that had fallen to her after his death. Her hands and back still ached from the exertion. 

The shelves lining the wall in front of her were filled with simple earthenware, tin cups, and a few precious pieces of china, sent to them from Richard’s parents in the city. She’d never got the chance to meet them, and now she never would. 

After his death, she’d looked for a way to contact them, but Richard hadn’t kept any of the letters. She informed the sheriff of her dilemma, and he had promised to take care of it. 

It didn’t sit right with Emily, but what could she do? None of it sat right with her. 

A loud knock split the air. 

“Emily! Are you home? I need to borrow sugar again.” 

She sat up with a start and went to the front door. Her friend, Amy Harrow, stood on the other side with an embarrassed half-smile. 

Her black hair was tangled in a mass of curls that bounced as she nodded. Amy was a warm, friendly person who drew others to her. She was the first friend that Emily had made in Willow Creek. 

“Did you start baking without checking if you had all the ingredients?” Emily forced herself to smile. 

Amy chuckled. “It’s your fault, you know. If you didn’t keep saving me out of a bad situation, I’d have learned my lesson by now.” 

“Same old Amy.” Emily rolled her eyes. “You’re always blaming others for your mistakes.” 

Amy stuck her tongue out at Emily. Although they were around the same age, they were vastly different. Emily was short while Amy was taller, with sun-kissed skin and a strong physique. Meanwhile, Emily was pale and burnt easily.  

Emily shrugged and motioned for Amy to follow her. They made their way to the kitchen, where Emily stepped into her pantry. The smell comforted her. She kept the essentials, such as preserves and flour, packed neatly along the shelves. Everything she needed was always within reach. 

In a world where she struggled to keep her head above water, her pantry was where she found the most control. 

“This food smells heavenly,” Amy said, sniffing the air. “But you haven’t touched it! What’s the use of being such a good cook if you hardly ever eat?” 

Emily emerged from the pantry with a jar full of sugar. Her eyes slid over the stew, freshly baked bread, and a block of cheese on the table. “It’s a force of habit.” 

Amy shook her head as she cut herself a piece of bread. “You should come live with us. My poor father is so sick of our cooking. You know how scatterbrained my dear mama is. She keeps forgetting she’s got food on the stove, and it always burns. Thank heavens he’s a baker, otherwise we’d never eat a decent meal.” 

Amy brushed her curls out with her fingers. 

Emily smiled and tucked her own light blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair was as straight as a ruler, and she had always envied girls with natural curls. 

“Your mama is wonderful,” Emily said, measuring out sugar into a tin cup. “And how come you never go to the bakery to make your confections? Your father has a fully stocked kitchen.” 

“Yes, but if I do that, then he’ll want to sell whatever I make,” Amy pointed out, raising her eyebrows. “And I’d like to keep my creations all to myself. Well, I don’t mind giving you a little.” 

Emily handed the sugar to Amy and sat down. Should she ask Amy to stay? Her friend probably had baking to get back to. Thankfully, she didn’t need to worry about it that much, as Amy made herself comfortable in the chair. 

“How are you doing, darling?” Amy draped her arm over the back of the chair. 

Emily swallowed hard. She looked beyond Amy’s head. Her worn shawl hung on a peg next to Richard’s Stetson hat. They’d brought it to her when they found him in the creek. She had automatically hung it on the peg next to hers. That’s where it had always gone, and she hadn’t known what else to do with it. 

“I’m fine.”

Amy chewed on her bread and scrunched her nose. “Try again. I can always tell when you’re lying.” 

Emily sighed as her shoulders drooped. “I’ve had better days. Every time I think I’m making progress, I fall right back into melancholy thoughts.” 

Amy listened silently, her eyes large and sympathetic. “Grief takes time. At least, that’s what they always tell me.” 

It was ironic. Amy, who’d never lost anyone in death, was giving Emily advice on grief. Emily had lost everyone who was ever dear to her. A part of her was beginning to believe that her love was a fatal curse bestowed on the unwitting. And yet, she yearned to love and be loved in return. 

“You’re right.” Emily smiled. 

Comfort was comfort, no matter the source. Besides, Amy meant well. 

“I suppose it’s harder for you to move on, given your suspicions,” Amy commented, cutting a slice of cheese as she spoke. 

Emily blanched to hear the words thrown about so casually. “There’s nothing I can do about it. The sheriff said I was being paranoid.” 

Amy shook her head. “When’s the last time you went to town?” 

Emily shrugged. “About two weeks ago.” 

Her friend’s eyes widened.

“There’s just so much to do here that I hardly ever venture into town,” Emily explained.

Amy didn’t say anything but bit into her bread. The silence caused Emily’s mind to work overtime, bringing her suspicions to the fore. 

“Do you think I’m being ridiculous?” Emily asked, looking around cautiously. 

Amy shook her head. “Not at all. You knew Richard better than any of us.” 

“He didn’t tell me he was going fishing,” Emily said before biting her bottom lip. “He couldn’t swim! Why would he go so close to the creek after it had just rained? Richard never went fishing before, so why would he choose that miserable, rainy day to start?” 

Amy munched on her food as Emily spoke. She didn’t need to respond, as she’d already heard all this information before. Emily hadn’t told anyone but the sheriff and Amy about her suspicions. And Amy was the only person who took her seriously. 

“I’m sorry.” Emily ran a hand through her hair. “I know how tedious this must be for you. You’ve heard this diatribe of mine more times than I can count.” 

Amy leaned forward and touched Emily’s hand. “I’m here for you, just as I know you’ll be here for me should I ever need you. Like I said, you knew him best. If you smell a rat, then you’d better follow the scent.” 

It was a strange analogy, but it caused her to smile slightly. Even though they were in completely different phases of their lives, Emily had come to rely on her. Her friend was a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Amy reached out and placed a hand on Emily’s arm. 

“The reason why I asked if you’d been in town lately is because the previous sheriff retired suddenly and there’s a new sheriff in town.” 

“What?” Emily’s mouth dropped open. “When did this happen?” 

“A week ago.” Amy shrugged. “Everyone in town’s still talking about it. We were all shocked. Old Man Rutters has been the sheriff for as long as I’ve been alive. No one expected him to retire. Apparently, one of his daughters married a well-off man and the whole family’s gone to Nebraska to live on a ranch with them.” 

It was welcome news. Emily’s mind raced. Sheriff Rutters had always treated her like an ignorant child and had dismissed all of her concerns. Hopefully, the new sheriff would be a little more supportive. 

“Who’s the new sheriff?” Emily stamped down on the hope blooming in her heart. 

“Jacob Turner.” 

Emily leaned back in her chair. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put a face to it. 

“He worked under Sheriff Rutters for six years as his deputy,” Amy explained, her eyes shining slightly. “Come now, you must have seen him in town. He’s always got a girl trailing after him with love in her eyes.” 

Emily shook her head. “Jacob? He’s hardly older than us!” 

“He’s five years older than us,” Amy said. “He grew up around here, and everyone agrees that he’s a good sort. At least he’ll hear you out before sending you on your way.” 

Emily picked at the skin around her thumbnail. “Do you think it’s worth going to see him?” 

Amy sighed. “I don’t see how else you’ll get any answers. I like Jacob well enough; he’ll hear you out. That’s more than Sheriff Rutters ever did.” 

Emily made a soft noise of assent. “Something is always better than nothing.” 

All hope had ever done for her was let her down. Who knew if the new sheriff would be any better than his predecessor? It was worth a shot, but it certainly wasn’t worth getting her hopes up. Emily was only nineteen, but she had already been sorely disappointed by life more times than she could count on her fingers. 

Amy leaned forward and took Emily’s hands in hers. “Do what you need to move forward, Emily. You’re still young and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I hate seeing you shut yourself away like this. It’s time to rejoin the land of the living.” 

She sighed and looked over at the shawl and the hat on the pegs. Emily loved what they represented. It was as if Richard would come in at any minute. Was she ready to leave the life she could have had with him behind? She wasn’t sure, but it was about time that she did something useful. And the first step was visiting the new sheriff. 

Chapter Two

Jacob Turner sighed and lifted his hat as he brushed his hair back. 

“Them vagrants are going to steal my turnips!” Mrs. Alcott said, wrinkling her nose. “I want them gone!” 

“Mrs. Alcott, the Branson boys live on your street. They’re not vagrants. They are twelve and eleven years old. Have any of your turnips gone missing?” 

“No,” Mrs. Alcott grumbled, “but they’re thinking of it! I can see it in their eyes when they walk past my house, hootin’ and hollerin’ as they go.” 

Jacob stared at her for a moment, trying to determine if she was serious or not. “With all due respect—” 

“Don’t you give me that nonsense!” Mrs. Alcott waved a finger in his face. 

Her grey hair was standing up in all directions, and her finger resembled a gnarled carrot. Spittle flew from her mouth as she chastised him, causing him to lean back to avoid getting hit. Her dress was so faded that he couldn’t make out the original print, and her shoes were covered in mud. 

Jacob looked longingly at the desk he had occupied as a deputy. It was still empty. He had yet to find someone to fill the position. Jacob had worked as a deputy for the better part of a decade, dreaming of the day he might finally become sheriff. He’d been given all the boring jobs and had suffered through more interactions with Mrs. Alcott than he could count. Now, he was sheriff, but nothing much had changed. 

“Whenever someone starts their story with ‘all due respect’,” she used air quotes around the words as she spoke, “they’re sure to say something disrespectful.” 

“Mrs. Alcott, you can’t believe that you can read those boys’ minds,” Jacob pleaded. “I’ve spoken to Mrs. Branson about it before. She’s tried to be understanding, but she can’t very well lock her boys up all day.”

“Bah!” Mrs. Alcott spat. “Why not? It’ll be practice for when they’re in jail someday.” 

Jacob massaged his temples. “They can’t move house just because you don’t like the boys. And the boys can’t stay inside all day. Now, I’ve asked them to avoid your house, but there’s only so much we can reasonably do.” 

Mrs. Alcott put her hands on her hips and glared at him sternly. “Do more.” 

He sighed. What had he expected her to say? Mrs. Alcott was a creature of habit and had a mean streak a mile wide. Logic couldn’t pierce through that much crazy. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her carefully. 

Before he could say anything, the door opened, and a woman slipped in. His breath caught in his throat. Emily Carter. She’d moved into town less than a year prior with her now-deceased husband. He’d noticed her right away. 

Her looks had certainly played a part in catching his notice. Emily had pretty blonde hair that shone when the sun hit it, and green eyes that reminded him of the forests that surrounded their fair town. However, it had been her demeanor that caused him to look at her again. 

Once, while shopping at the General Store, he’d seen a child drop their candied apple in the street. The child had wailed in distress while his mother tried to soothe him. Emily had walked up to them and presented the child with a new candied apple. It seemed that every time he saw her; she was doing something kind for someone. 

Of course, when she’d first moved to Willow Creek, she’d been married. Jacob had averted his eyes and pushed thoughts of her out of his mind. It wasn’t meant to be. And then her poor husband had died. 

He sat up a little straighter as she walked in and tried to keep his eyes from straying toward her. Jacob must not have been very successful because Mrs. Alcott turned and narrowed her eyes at Emily. 

“What do you want, girl?” 

Emily’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I was only hoping to see the sheriff for a moment. You were here first, though. Please continue.” 

She carried a basket in her hands, and brought it in front of her, as if shielding herself from the older woman. 

Mrs. Alcott scoffed and waved dismissively at Jacob. “I’m just about done. This one’s useless. At least the previous sheriff had some backbone!” 

Jacob’s mouth dropped open indignantly. First off, Sheriff Rutters couldn’t stand Mrs. Alcott, which was why Jacob was always stuck dealing with her complaints. And secondly, why did she have to disparage him in front of Emily? Surely, that wasn’t necessary?

“Oh dear,” Emily murmured. “What seems to be the problem?” 

She glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. It told him that no matter what Mrs. Alcott said, she was already on his side. Jacob tilted his head at her, feeling an instant kinship. They were in this together. He offered her a tentative smile, and the corners of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly in response. 

“Them hoodlums are going to steal my turnips.” Mrs. Alcott put her hands on her hips and glared at Jacob. “He’s not going to do anything about it. Come winter, I’ll starve, and he’ll be tucked away in his home, as happy as a pig in mud.” 

“Now wait just a minute, Mrs. Alcott,” Jacob started with a frown. 

“How terrible.” Emily shook her head, ignoring him completely. “We simply cannot allow you to starve. How about I bring over some wild strawberry jam? And I’m certain you can always get a fresh loaf of bread at Harrow’s Bakery. I was just talking to Amy earlier today, and she was telling me how good her father’s bread is.” 

Mrs. Alcott sniffed. “I ain’t got the money for bread from a bakery.” 

This was almost certainly a lie. Despite her rather ratty appearance, Mrs. Alcott’s husband had left her with a tidy sum after he died. It was more than enough to keep her comfortably for the rest of her days, but Mrs. Alcott was a notorious miser. She would never pay for anything she could get for free. 

Emily shrugged. “I shall have to bring some of my own loaves. I always have far too much bread leftover when I bake these days.”

A shadow of sadness passed over her face. Jacob pitied her situation and gave her a sympathetic look, which she ignored. 

“Well, all right,” Mrs. Alcott sighed. 

She was clearly mollified by the prospect of free food, especially fresh bread and sugary jam. 

Emily beamed proudly, and he gave her a grateful smile. He was still new at this and hadn’t found a way to deal effectively with the likes of Mrs. Alcott. For now, it seemed as though the crisis had been averted. Or at least, that’s what it looked like until she opened her mouth again. 

“I suppose I won’t starve if all my turnips go missing. I’ll have to rig some bear traps in my garden, just in case.”

“Bear traps?” Jacob jumped to his feet as Mrs. Alcott made her way to the door. 

“Yes,” she said over her shoulder, “surely you don’t expect me to sit idly by while those hooligans rob me blind?” 

“What if someone gets caught in those traps by accident?” Jacob asked, walking around his desk. 

“It will be their fault for trespassing on my land!” Mrs. Alcott pointed out. “Besides, there’s no law against setting bear traps in my garden!” 

Jacob sputtered, trying to think of a way to dissuade her from setting potentially deadly traps in her garden. What if she forgot where she put them and went out to water her precious turnips? 

A loud snap echoed in the back of Jacob’s mind. He winced at the thought. 

“If you set bear traps in your yard, there’s no way I’m making the trip to bring you free jam and bread.” Emily raised her eyebrows at Mrs. Alcott. 

The older widow stopped in her tracks, seemingly mulling over Emily’s words. It was a battle of wills between the two as Mrs. Alcott raised her chin defiantly. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Jacob looked between them, at a complete loss as to what he was supposed to do. 

“Fine. I’ll put spikes on my fence and hope for the best.” With that, Mrs. Alcott swept out of the office and Jacob fell back into his chair. 

“You deserve a medal for that,” Jacob said, allowing himself to melt into his chair. 

Emily shrugged and put the basket on his desk. “It was the least I could do. You were thoroughly outmatched!” 

“Arguing with a crazy person is like trying to rope the wind. It ain’t gonna happen no matter how good your aim is.” Jacob shook his head. 

She chuckled at his joke.

“How can I help you today?” Jacob interlaced his fingers on the desk and leaned forward. 

“I don’t know if you can help me if Mrs. Alcott is to be believed,” Emily said good-naturedly as she sat down. 

Jacob winced. “Please don’t judge my abilities based on Mrs. Alcott’s word. She may have praised Sheriff Rutters now, but when he was around, she used to call him a hooligan too.” 

Emily shook her head. “Thank you for the warning. I suppose I’ll have to make up my own mind about your abilities.” 

He inclined his head toward her. “It’s all I can ask of you. Now, what seems to be the problem?” 

Emily sighed and her shoulders dropped. “I need your help, Sheriff… I don’t know how much Sheriff Rutters told you about Richard’s death.” 

Jacob raised his eyebrows. Willow Creek had no more than a couple hundred inhabitants. The community was tight-knit and there wasn’t much privacy. He’d heard about Richard’s death almost as soon as it was discovered. No one had talked much about it, however, as no one knew him all that well and there wasn’t anything interesting about a man who died while trying to fish in a flooded river. 

His death had been ruled an accident, and everyone agreed that newcomers should be more careful about where they fished. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her any of that; it would only upset her more. 

“He told me about the accident,” Jacob said slowly. 

Emily frowned and studied his expression. “Did he tell you about my suspicions?” 

“Suspicions?” Jacob echoed dumbly. 

She leaned back in her chair with a grimace. “Of course, he didn’t. Sheriff Rutters never took anything I said seriously.” 

“Don’t feel too badly about that,” Jacob said. “He threw me in the deep end before he left. I’m up to my neck in alligators here.” 

Emily fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve as she listened to him. When she didn’t say anything, he was pierced with guilt. She had obviously come to tell him something important, and here he was complaining about his problems. Jacob shook his head at his folly. 

“I apologize for my bellyachin’,” he winced. “Why don’t you tell me about these suspicions of yours?” 

Emily looked up and chewed on her bottom lip, clearly conflicted. 

“Go on,” he said gently, “you can tell me.” 

“I think my husband’s death wasn’t an accident.” 

Out of everything she had been about to say, he hadn’t expected that. He stared at her in shock for a brief moment. 

“What do you mean?” 

Emily sighed and looked down. “Richard couldn’t swim. He hated water. And I never saw him fishing or talk about fishing in all the time we were married.” 

Jacob’s mind processed her words. He compared what she was saying to what he had heard about Richard’s death. 

“He might not have gone fishing,” Jacob pointed out. “When it rains so much, the creek can be unpredictable. Floods happen in a flash. For all we know, he might have been out for a walk when the water came past and took him.” 

Emily shook her head firmly. “No. You don’t understand, Richard hated water. He wouldn’t have gone for a walk there. He told me his brother drowned when he was younger and he couldn’t face going anywhere near the water again. Besides, the day he left, he told me he was going to see a friend of his.” 

Jacob listened intently and grabbed onto an explanation when he saw one presenting itself. The alternative was that someone in town deliberately killed Richard. He knew everyone in town, and not one of them was capable of murder. At least, he hoped they weren’t. 

“There we have it.” Jacob gestured meaningfully. “Perhaps he went for a walk with his friend.” 

As soon as he said the words, he knew it was a stupid thing to say. If Richard had gone for a walk with a friend, why hadn’t the friend tried to help him when the water got too high? 

Emily’s shoulders drooped. She got to her feet and took a deep breath. “Sheriff Rutters dismissed me, too. Thank you for your time, and have a good day.” 

She turned to leave. Regret bubbled up from his throat. What had he done? 

“Emily, wait… you forgot your basket.” 

She shook her head. “No, I brought some preserves for you and your family. Like I said, I always have leftover food nowadays.” 

Jacob bit down on his lip and looked at the basket. No one had ever been murdered in Willow Creek since it had been founded fifty years ago. Everyone in town was friendly with each other. And why would anyone have a reason to kill Richard Carter? The man had been quiet and had kept to himself. 

And yet… Emily knew him best. She felt so strongly about it that she had approached the sheriff about it. And now she had come to him. He was still young, and the job was new. It was up to him to decide what kind of sheriff he was going to be. 

Jacob was at a crossroads. It was time to make a decision. 

“Emily!” He hurried after her, causing her to look back at him in shock. “Tell me more about your suspicions.” 

Emily raised her eyebrows. “Do you believe me?” 

Jacob nodded. “I’ll look into it to the best of my ability.” 

She smiled and walked back inside. Relief flooded Jacob. Even if Richard’s death was an accident and he was wasting his time, at least he got to talk to Emily a little longer. Although, that certainly hadn’t been why he decided to listen to her. 

This was the first step in proving that he was going to take care of people in town, no matter what their complaints were. They could trust him, and he was going to prove it.