Sample of Book 1 - Lone Cactus, Arizona Territory - 1880
“You be a good girl today, now,” Peter said as he leaned forward to give his daughter, Maria, a kiss on her forehead.
“Yes, Pa,” she replied solemnly.
“I’ve got to get into work or Sheriff Compton’ll come bangin’ on this here door lookin’ for me,” he added in a joking manner.
His little lady was only six years-old and he knew, most times, she could do with having someone around who might cheer her up a little, but even his attempts at making fun fell flat. Maria’s eyes widened in concern.
“Would he really do that, Pa?” she asked innocently.
“’Course not,” he assured her hastily. “I was just funnin’ ya.”
Maria blinked her large brown eyes several times as if she was trying to make heads or tails of this conversation, and Peter didn’t blame her. “So, you don’t have to go into the office today?”
“Sorry, Punkin,” Peter replied as he pulled Maria in for one last hug, “but I’ve got to get goin’.
You know Sheriff Compton depends on me.” He released his tight grip on her shoulders and stooped so he could look her squarely in the eyes.
“But don’t you worry none. Barty’ll be around all day and if you need somethin’, you just give ‘im a holler.”
She nodded dutifully and it was then that Peter was seized by a pang of regret.
I hate leavin’ Maria here all alone. She’s so young, and she shouldn’t have to be in this big, empty house all by her lonesome.
But the alternative was too painful for Peter to contemplate again.
He owned a large cattle ranch, but years ago, right after his wife, and Maria’s mother, Eliza, died, he put Barty in charge of overseeing the whole property.
He couldn’t sit around the house because Eliza’s memory haunted every corridor, nor could he bear to be down at the stables, looking at the horse that had bucked his wife, causing her untimely death.
He’d probably have sold the ranch altogether if he’d had a mind to.
But it was a profitable business, and he knew he and Maria needed the money to keep living the way they did.
So, to busy himself and to avoid thinking about the love he’d lost, Peter spent his days working as Sheriff Compton’s deputy.
Lone Cactus was a prickly town and there was always someone doing something they weren’t supposed to, so Peter knew once he stepped out that door, he wouldn’t have to think about his sorrows any more…
at least not until he returned that evening.
Peter took his tall white hat off the peg nearest the door and settled it on his head. He turned to leave, but Maria raced forward and tugged gently on his hand.
Shoot…she looks so much like her mama…Makes me want to cry.
Little Maria had long blonde hair which was the color of the sand out in the desert.
He’d helped her brush the strands into two pigtails this morning, but they already looked a tad messy.
She had a smattering of freckles covering her cheeks and nose, and when she spoke, he could see the evidence that she had just lost one of her front teeth.
Except for her eyes, which were as brown as maple syrup, just like his own, she was the spitting image of Eliza and that made being a good father to her much more difficult than it needed to be.
“Pa,” she said meekly. “Can I go to Sally’s?”
Peter lifted a hand and rubbed the fine layer of scruff on his chin. “I dunno. Would Sally’s ma know that you were comin’ for a visit?”
“Uh-huh,” Maria mumbled. “When I saw them both yesterday, they said if I asked you and you said it was okay, I could come back again today.”
It was nice that his daughter had a friend like Sally Brunes, and Peter even knew Sally’s mother, Jenny, quite well because they’d grown up in this town together.
He didn’t mind in the slightest if Maria spent some time with them, but he didn’t want Jenny to feel like Maria was imposing, either, by running over to their place every day.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea,” he said at last.
Maria’s face drooped as her lower lip pooched. “But Pa, Sally and her Ma were gonna make up some apricot tarts this mornin’. I don’t wanna miss out.”
Peter couldn’t stop himself from snickering. “Well…if Barty’s got time to walk you over there, then it’s fine with me. But I’ve got to get a move on.”
Her face brightened a little. “Thanks!” She raced forward and hugged him around his mid-section once again. “And if Sally’s Ma says it’s okay, I’ll even bring you one of ‘em tarts home later.”
“Such a good girl,” he murmured as he disentangled himself from her embrace and headed to the door.
“Have fun with your friend today and try to stay out of trouble.” She giggled at that because not only was that the same thing he said every day when they parted but they both also knew that Maria would never get into trouble.
She was as good as gold and the one and only bright spot in Peter’s life.
As he sauntered into town, he dragged his feet a little and a whirling bit of dust ballooned around his boots.
Shoulda offered to walk Maria over to Sally’s myself. I coulda spared a few minutes and maybe even talked to Jenny, made sure Maria wasn’t makin’ a nuisance of herself.
While that seemed sensible and perhaps even the appropriate course of action, Peter couldn’t afford to turn around and head back home now.
The Sheriff’s office was always busy, mostly because the town of Lone Cactus was teeming with criminals.
It had been built as a bit of an outpost in the desert.
There was an oasis that offered fresh water and the railway line even made a stop at a station right on the dotted line of the outskirts of the town.
So, to say it was a hot bed for criminal activity might have been an understatement.
While Lone Cactus had its fair share of saloons, and that regularly amounted to men looking to squabble and fight a little, they also had bigger problems, like when bandits came through last week and tried to rob the stagecoach depot.
So many criminals in this town, they all could’ve waited until I took care of Maria.
The idea that he was once again leaving his little girl home all alone pricked his mind, like the way a person feels when they’ve been bitten by an ant.
It doesn’t hurt a whole lot at first, but later, it stings mightily.
The ant is just a small, minor pest, but that minuscule bite can sting for days later.
“You’re always frownin’, Wissman,” Sheriff Compton said in way of greeting as soon as Peter walked into the office.
The sheriff was a small man, with thick, dark brown hair that he wore parted on the side.
When they were indoors, he kept his hat on a hook, mostly because he was proud of his hair and liked to show it off and ‘let it breathe’ as he liked to say.
He was also a little on the boisterous side and he had a booming voice, which served him well when they needed to corral a bunch of rowdy revelers over at Wiley’s Dance Hall and Saloon but seemed almost out of place when it was just the two of them in the office.
“’Mornin’ to you too, Sheriff,” Peter replied with a touch of sarcasm. “We had any business yet this mornin’?”
Sheriff Compton snorted. “It’s still early. Give it time.”
Peter shrugged and walked to his desk. The sheriff’s office was a rather spartan space.
It sat on the corner of Main Street, adjacent to Miss Bertha’s Bakery.
All day long, heavenly aromas wafted in their direction and that made this spot the envy of others in town, but it didn’t change the fact that the sheriff was a no-nonsense kind of lawman.
There were two desks in the office, one for the sheriff and the other for Peter, his deputy.
The desks were not large or ornate, but rather more functional and practical looking.
There were two chairs, again, one for each man, and there was a long, wooden bench along the wall.
This was where they deposited folks who were up to no good but didn’t deserve to be thrown straight into a jail cell.
The walls were whitewashed and there were only two posters tacked on them.
Both featured the information as well as crudely drawn sketches of nefarious criminals who were wanted in connection with a string of crimes.
Every day Peter looked at those posters, wondering if today would be the day one of these terrible people wandered into Lone Cactus and changed his life.
His desk chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it out and started to take a seat. “So, there was really no noise over at Wiley’s or the Bourbon Barrel last night?”
“Why you always come in here lookin’ for trouble?” Sheriff Compton said, returning Peter’s question with one of his own. “Why can’t you just be satisfied that we had a quiet night around here?”
Peter reached into his desk drawer and extracted a thick scratch pad of paper.
He grabbed a lead and licked the tip. “You know the sayin’ ‘bout idle hands bein’ tools of the devil,” he replied.
“I just don’t want the people of Lone Cactus to get too quiet.
‘Cause if they do, there’s likely to be hell to pay for havin’ all that peace later. ”
Sheriff Compton snorted as he brushed a hand through his thick hair.
“You’ve got a funny way of lookin’ at life, Wissman.
Most people’d thank the good Lord above to come into the office and find themselves without a thing to do.
But you—you’re practically chompin’ at the bit, itchin’ to get out there and stir up somethin’.
” He paused before adding, “Everythin’ okay at home with little Maria? ”
Since Peter and Sheriff Compton had known each other a long time, there were no secrets between them.
He was privy to all Peter’s misgivings about constantly leaving Maria home alone and he likely knew how much time Peter spent grieving over the loss of his beloved wife.
“She’s fine…We’re fine,” Peter amended. “But I just wish we could be…better. Ya know?”
“Sure do,” the sheriff said as he picked up a newspaper off the corner of his desk. He swatted a fly that was buzzing around the office, then dropped the paper right on top of the scratch pad Peter had been about to use.
“What’s this?” Peter asked as he squinted down at the fine newsprint.
“I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ about your problem,” the sheriff replied.
“My problem?” Peter countered. “I’m still a little sad and I know Maria needs me to be a better father, but…
” He stopped talking and stared at the newspaper that sat in front of him, reading aloud from the advertisement that was visible.
“I don’t think a dram of snake oil is gonna do either of us any good. ”
“I ain’t suggestin’ you spend your money on snake oil,” Sheriff Compton said as he made a motion in the air, indicating that Peter should flip the paper over and read from there.
“What?” Peter asked as he followed directions. “The bridal adverts?” He scoffed as he slapped the newspaper right back onto the desktop. “Those are nearly as helpful as the snake oil.”
Sheriff Compton shook his head. “You’re not thinkin’ through matters clearly.
” He picked up the newspaper once more, cleared his throat, then read aloud, “Widow, age 29, hoping to move out west and start a new life with a gentle and kind man. Sewing, cooking, cleaning, gardening, and horseback riding are all skills that I possess. Contact the editor for further details.”
Peter stared at the sheriff. “So?”
“So,” Sheriff Compton replied after sucking in a big breath, “That lady might not be the one for you, but she doesn’t sound too bad from where I’m standin’.
She’s a widow, so she’ll be able to understand how you feel after losin’ Eliza and she’s got plenty of skills that’ll make her an asset on your ranch.
Besides, she’s twenty-nine. If she doesn’t have kids of her own yet, and it seems like she might not, I’m sure she’d be real happy to help you raise Maria. ”
“I’m not gonna just pick up the newspaper and spark up a…” He paused as he tried to remember the right words. “…courtship correspondence with a lady back east.”
“Why not?” Sheriff Compton prompted. “If you don’t like this one, there’s about a hundred others here. One of ‘em is likely to suit your fancy.”
“I can’t believe we’re havin’ this conversation,” Peter said as he stood and angrily pushed his chair back underneath the desk.
Sheriff Compton snorted. “And I can’t believe we ain’t had this talk years ago.” He lowered his voice so that it was quieter than Peter had ever heard it before. “The thing is, Wissman, you’re a nice man and your Maria—she’s a sweet gal. Any lady would feel lucky to help you raise a kid like her.”
“I dunno…” Peter began, but the sheriff was insistent. He folded the newspaper and pressed it to Peter’s chest.
“Yes,” the sheriff continued, “you do. You come in here, every day, wishin’ you could do more for Maria—so do somethin’. Reach out to one of these women. Ask ‘em if they wouldn’t mind moving west and helpin’ you take care of your little girl.”
“I’ll…I’ll think about it,” Peter replied. He took the paper away from his chest and folded it neatly so he could tuck it into his vest pocket.
“Hey…hey…” Charley Mayer stood in the open doorway. He was huffing and puffing, trying to catch his breath. “Sheriff…We’re gonna need some help.”
“Where?” Sheriff Compton asked as he snapped to attention and Peter followed suit.
“Over…over at the mercantile.” Peter had no idea what sort of issues might have cropped up at Bolton’s Mercantile this morning, but he didn’t waste any time thinking over the matter.
He just raced toward the door and said a silent prayer that he and the sheriff would make it in time to alleviate the situation and keep the people of this town safe.
~*~*~