Chapter 10
Ben was exhausted by the time the judge left his office later that evening. After Roseanna had returned to the living quarters behind the office, he’d spent several hours discussing the details of Sheriff Danbury’s murder with Harlan Lemke.
In the end, the judge decided to remain in Roses Briar over the holiday, his duty to try the rogue Pinkerton Agents his highest priority. Yet, Ben found himself agitated by some of the man’s responses to the situation. And that was why he tossed, then turned, and finally gave up on sleep.
Somewhere during the darkest hours of the night, his head dropped to his desk, and Ben dozed atop the case notes he’d compiled in anticipation of the judge’s visit. When he woke, Roseanna’s marriage certificate was plastered to his cheek, and the frustrated lawman looked it over once again.
Baton Rouge. Why was a single woman, heavy with child, chasing all over the country with three small boys? he wondered. It doesn’t make any sense.
Ben jotted a few more notes, and then he collected all his paperwork into a neat stack. However, the new sheriff couldn’t figure out what to do with it. Arnold Danbury had been an upright, God-fearing man, and a better lawman than most. But he was notoriously bad at organizing the files – as the scattered piles of wanted posters and other documents on his desk attested.
Resigned to a sleepless night anyway, Ben pulled over one of the chairs that sat in front of his desk and used the seat as additional table space. Laying his neat stack of paperwork aside, the determined fellow began to sort the rest of the mess.
Several old wanted posters were tossed into the pot belly stove, as the outlaws had already been apprehended. Many more were jogged into a neat pile, waiting for Ben to hang them on the wall across from his desk.
Notes and other small bits of paper were sorted into some semblance of order, but Ben had no idea what to do with them. Arnold’s haphazard filing system extended beyond the mess on the desk, and Ben had no clue how to approach the disaster waiting in the filing cabinets.
He was rubbing bloodshot eyes when the door between the office and the living space quietly swung open.
“I thought I heard movement,” Roseanna whispered. “I have a pot of coffee, if you are interested.”
“Sorry to wake you,” Ben said through a yawn.
“That’s not your fault, Sheriff. Sebastian wakes every few hours to feed, and the fire was getting low, so here I am,” she answered with a shrug.
“Do I need to bring in more wood?”
Shaking her head, Roseanna tightened the shawl around her shoulders. “No. I only meant that I needed to add a few logs to the stove for warmth.”
Padding softly across the room, Ben accepted the cup of coffee and took a sip. “That’s exactly what I needed,” he groaned in pleasure.
“Hilda brought a few things from the mercantile yesterday. So, I’ll have biscuits ready in a bit. It is something that will keep the boys from fussing when they get hungry.”
Ben hadn’t considered that, or any other needs Miss Sherman . . . No, Mrs. Danbury , he reminded himself . . . he hadn’t considered the needs of the woman, or her children.
“Everything will be closed up today. You know . . . folks will be spending the day with family and friends,” he replied.
“Oh. Of course. That must be why Hilda brought the flour and oatmeal yesterday. I’ll make enough for you to take upstairs then.”
Wholly embarrassed by his lack of foresight, Ben smacked himself in the forehead once the tiny woman closed the door to her quarters. He’d totally forgotten to make provision for his prisoners!
“Lord,” he mumbled, looking toward the ceiling. “I don’t know if I can do this. I never realized how much needed doing outside upholding the law.” Firewood, meals, chamber pots . . . all the things required of him, the things that did not require a badge, seemed to get overlooked.
“I’ve provided a suitable helper,” the silence seemed to whisper back, and Ben frowned.
“Uh, uh,” he mumbled, vehemently shaking his head in protest. “Judge Lemke is mad if he thinks I’m going to tie myself to that woman,” Ben grumbled. “And so are you, if that’s what you’re thinking, God. No way. No how.”
His maker didn’t shout back or send a lightning bolt, so the man snuck a peek at the space above his head and waited. Nothing.
“Alright then. That’s settled,” Ben firmly announced to the empty room before dropping into his chair. But the Almighty’s prompting echoed the judge’s suggestion.
“Mrs. Danbury might not be tried for kidnapping, but she will certainly lose her children if she cannot prove that she can provide a stable home for her sons,” the court representative had shared with Ben the evening before.
Recalling the conversation made Ben break out in a cold sweat. “That’s a firm ‘no,’” he declared to the empty room. “I’m not husband material. And I certainly got no ambitions toward raising a houseful of ankle biters.”
“You spend a lot of time talking to yourself, boy?” Hilda questioned as she breezed into the office with a basket that smelled like culinary heaven.
“Better quality of conversation that way,” Ben mumbled under his breath. Then he grinned. “What’cha got there?”
“Just some hard-boiled eggs and a pan of my super-special cinnamon rolls,” the older woman answered with a wink and a smile.
“Hallelujah!” the Sheriff praised, jumping to his feet. “If it weren’t for Arlo, I’d kiss ya!”
A deep guffaw burst from the woman, and her cheeks pinked with pleasure. “Such a rascal,” she cheerily dismissed with a wave of her hand.