Cole felt a shiver of something he couldn’t explain run up his spine—excitement?—anticipation? Jesse Calhoun was probably the most notorious lawman in the country. He was a legend.
Cole put his hat and duster on while Jesse did the same, then he grabbed the overnight bag he and Elizabeth had packed that morning. He opened the door and held it steady so it wasn’t blown into the wall. The cold slashed at his exposed skin like a knife. He closed the door behind them, but he didn’t bother to lock up. Carl would be there before long and would bunk in the back room. If there were any emergencies, he would see to things.
He ducked his head against the wind as they made their way across the street. He hadn’t uttered a word since Jesse had told him his name. Questions raced through his mind. Why was President Harrison so desperate to recruit him as a US marshal that he’d send the man with the highest kill and capture rate to hunt him down? Maybe it was symbolic. But everyone knew who Jesse Calhoun was, and the gut feeling that had saved his life more than once in battle was stirring uncomfortably.
“Nothing but trouble,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Jesse asked, still grinning. “I don’t think I heard you right. Wind’s too loud.”
“This is a bad one. Hope you’re planning to stay a few days. If you hadn’t come in when you did, we’d be discovering your body in a snowdrift in a few weeks. A heck of a way to go.”
Jesse shivered and shook his head. “I don’t know how you stand it. This Texas boy wouldn’t last long up here. I’m out of my territory. Snow for that many months in a row would make me crazy.”
“It makes a lot of people crazy. People are already tired of being cooped up, and they’re tired of the cold. And we have at least another three months of snow to go. You can only do so much of the one thing that keeps two people both warm and out of trouble, though that sometimes leads to plenty of trouble in itself.”
Jesse laughed. “People can always find plenty of trouble. Too hot, too cold, or just the wrong day of the week. Sometimes makes you wonder why we even bother at all.”
“Someone’s got to,” Cole said, but he felt the weariness of the responsibility they’d been taxed with. Especially in this part of the country. People wanted to take care of their own in their own way, no matter the result. And then there were others who wanted to take advantage of the remote area and difficult terrain.
“You’ve got yourself a nice town here,” Jesse said. “Lots of progress coming through.”
Laurel Valley stretched out before them, more than a nice town. It had become his home like no place ever had before—not because he’d discovered it, but because he’d finally come back to it, finally stopped running from the ghosts of his past and claimed the legacy his grandfather had carved out of wilderness.
He’d been born here, raised on the O’Hara Ranch that bordered the Ross spread. He and Riley had learned to ride before they could properly walk, learned to rope and brand and mend fence alongside the men who worked for their father. But their mother died when they were barely old enough to remember her, and their father had buried himself in work. So he’d counted down the days until he could leave. The war had given him an excuse, a purpose, a reason to put distance between himself and the memories that haunted every corner of the ranch.
He’d spent years wandering after the war ended—tracking for the army, living with the Sioux, taking private jobs in territories where no one knew his name or his brother’s—always moving, never staying. Riley had wandered too, but for different reasons. Riley had been running toward something. Cole had been running away.
But six years ago, when his father died, he’d come home. The ranch had been struggling, and Cole had realized that home wasn’t something you could escape—it was something that lived in your bones, in the way you knew every ridge and valley, every bend in the river, every stand of pine. This land had raised him, and it called him back. Within a year, the town had elected him sheriff, and he’d been wearing the star for five years now.
The town had grown during that time, mostly because of the railroad they’d built just outside of town. The last train had left early that morning when frost still painted the windows in delicate patterns, and there wouldn’t be another until the storm had passed, leaving Laurel Valley isolated but somehow more itself when cut off from the rest of the world.
The main street was lined on each side with wooden buildings that had all been whitewashed to match. The Laurel Valley Hotel sat right in the middle across the street from the sheriff’s office, and it was three full stories, with fancy glass that had been brought in all the way from Boston. The lights inside were a beacon through the increasingly heavy snow.
The street was newly cobbled, but it didn’t make much difference with the snow. There were hitching posts and watering troughs, but there was no sign of life on the street other than the two of them.
Along with the hotel and the sheriff’s office, the other businesses located along each side of the cobbled street were a blacksmith shop, mercantile, haberdashery, gunsmith, apothecary, and a saloon. There was even a lawyer from back east who’d put up his shingle after the railroad was finished. And he was glad to see everything was dark inside each of the businesses and everyone had gone home.
There was a livery stable with a large paddock set some ways back because the area was often congested with wagons and horses. The bank was located on the other side of the livery, but far enough away to avoid the smell. And at the very end of the street was a white-steepled church, with a bell that was rung on the hour while the train was running.
Laurel Valley was the closest place to shop, restock, or trade for a lot of folks in the area. Otherwise, it was a three-day ride to Boise.
“We’re going to have to make some changes soon,” Cole acknowledged. “With progress comes problems. It’s too much progress for a lot of the folks here. The railroad changed everything. Too many transients. Too much money with the business people coming in from the cities. That means more crime. Train robberies have been as much of a concern as stagecoach robberies.”
“You’re going to need more people,” Jesse said.
“I know. I’ve got three deputies, but I’ve put out the word for more. Will probably have to bring them in from the city. Men out here are already working their own farms and ranches. They’re not going to give that up for the little we can offer them.”
The Laurel Valley Hotel had a wide front, the windows on the left displaying a parlor where guests could gather after dinner, and the windows on the right displaying the restaurant. The double doors were painted bright blue and there were wooden barrels where there were usually flowers planted, but the barrels were filled with snow.
They went inside and were enveloped in immediate warmth. The staircase was a showcase of polished wood that went up three floor. The carpet was the same shade of blue as the front door, and all the wall paneling was white. There was a crystal chandelier that the owner had brought back with her all the way from Paris, France. The art and other decorations were much fancier than Cole ever preferred, but those who visited the hotel always seemed impressed. There was a long counter to the right of the stairs and keys and mail slots were on the wall behind it.
“Sheriff,” Will Clark greeted them as they entered. “We’ve been expecting you. Are you dining with us tonight?”
“Yes, but I’m going to wait for my wife,” Cole said. “I’ll join the marshal here for coffee, black and strong enough to float a horseshoe, while he eats.”
Will was a young man, in his late teens, with dark red hair, bright eyes the color of an icy lake, and a ruddy complexion. His parents owned the hotel. They also owned the mercantile and ran the First National Bank. And Will looked at Jesse Calhoun with a mix of awe and hero worship.
Will was fascinated with tales of the Earp brothers and Wild Bill Hickok. Anytime a marshal came through town, Will would hunt him down and ask question after question about what being a lawman was really like. Cole had the feeling that Will would be off on his own adventure if his parents didn’t have such a tight rein on him.
