href="#u9017a2ae-0b00-561c-8bc4-5bb20207c36b">Chapter Twenty-Three
Granite, Texas October 1887
Sheriff Josiah Miller peered out his cabin window into the darkness, searching for a plausible explanation for the uneasiness shivering down his spine. What had set off the warning bells in his body?
His twin daughters snuggled deeply under their covers, sleeping soundly on this cold winter’s night, and for that he was thankful. No worries on that front because he’d just checked on them. So what accounted for the dull disquiet that had him pacing the floor, looking out the window every few seconds?
They were in the midst of a fierce snowstorm and it was only October. Maybe that’s what had him skittish as an unbroken mare. Signs pointed to a harsh winter. He dreaded it. Lonely nights out in the cold could work on a man’s mind. He shrugged his shoulders in mock resignation.
Dratted snow! He blamed the white stuff for his dismal thoughts.
Josiah stopped pacing midstride and slowly turned back to the window. Snow swirled about, creating almost zero visibility. In spite of the fire that burned in the fireplace, he shivered, not only from the cold pressing against the glass but from the banshee-like wails of the wind.
On nights like this he missed Mary the most. If she were alive, Mary would be humming and the aroma of fresh baked bread would draw him to the kitchen. How often he’d slipped up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, kissing her, tickling her, till she cut him a slice. She’d scold him for his impatience, but always with a twinkle in her eyes that belied her words. She knew how to make a home cozy and warm; a place where he longed to be. Now, when it was too late, Josiah realized how much he missed her and the home they’d shared.
Perhaps he should begin looking for a wife so that his twin daughters wouldn’t have to grow up motherless. Raising them alone was hard. Finding a babysitter even harder. They needed a mother’s love and he needed help.
Shadowy movement beside the barn caught his attention. Josiah focused intently on the area. There. Right at the front edge by the door something moved again. His eyes weren’t deceiving him. What in the world could that be?
He cupped his hands around his face and pressed his nose against the cold windowpane. His breath fogged up the glass. Josiah wiped away the condensation. Could it be an animal? Had his horse gotten out of the barn into the snow and cold? Josiah grunted, tempted to leave the beast to his own devices, but he wasn’t a coldhearted man and knew it was a disgruntled thought he’d never act upon. A lawman’s horse was as important to him as his right arm.
At the door, he eased his warm feet out of his slippers and into heavy boots. He pulled his fur jacket off the coatrack, thrust his arms inside and then put on gloves. Pulling his hat down tight on his head and wrapping a long woolen scarf around his face, Josiah stepped out into the freezing, swirling snowstorm.
Gripping the rope he’d tied from the rail of the porch to the barn door, Josiah gave a little tug. It held fast. That was reassuring. Some men got lost in a storm like this and died feet away from their barn or house. Josiah had no intentions of dying like that.
After he’d inched away from the house, he glanced over his shoulder. He could barely see the light from his front window. His chest bumped into something and he turned back around. “Well, I’ll be.”
A small mule waited patiently, head down, nose almost touching the snow. “So it was you instead of my faithful horse that I saw out here.” Josiah reached out and touched her nose. Warm air filled his glove. “Poor thing, must be half-frozen,” he muttered.
A soft thud sounded beside the animal as its rider fell into the snow. Josiah eased around the mule to see who it had been carrying. Yards of dark fabric covered the woman’s legs. A scarf much like his own covered her face. He reached down and lifted her out of the snow.
The woman sagged against his chest. In a weak voice that sounded low and scratchy she moaned, “Please, take care of my mule.”
He couldn’t make out her face, but her voice sounded familiar. Her wet dress, slightly frozen in places, pressed against his coat and he felt no warmth from her whatsoever. Big brown eyes beseeched him, glazed with what he could only assume was a fever. “Now don’t you go fretting, ma’am. I’m not one to leave an animal out in this storm.”
Josiah looked to the mule. He could take care of only one of them at a time. “Sorry, lil’ feller. I’ll be back as soon as I get your mistress settled.” He weighed his options for a few moments, then decided there was nothing for it but to place the woman over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He had to have a hand free to hold on to the line and be guided back to the house. Expecting a fight, he immediately knew her condition to be serious when she only groaned slightly. He grabbed the rope in his gloved hand and headed back to the house.
His thoughts bumped together as he worked to get there. What a night for being out in this weather. Where had she been going? And why couldn’t it have waited until after the storm. The woman slumped limply against him as she lost consciousness.
Out of breath from his battle through the snowdrifts, bearing the slight weight of the woman, Josiah gave a sigh of relief to find the bottom step of the porch. He pulled her closer to his chest and carried her the rest of the way to the front door.
Wet clothes added weight to her body. In the light from his window he could see that her hood had fallen back and brown hair spilled out over the fabric. Deep brown eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, causing Josiah to gasp as recognition gripped him.
“Anna Mae?”
“Josiah.” His name whispered across her lips as she slipped back into unconsciousness.
His name, spoken in a weak and tremulous whisper, was the sweetest sound he’d heard in a long time. As long as she could speak, he had a chance to save her. His heart leaped in his chest with fear as her breathing became raspy. Josiah pushed the door open and carried her to the couch. He laid her down gently. Now what was he going to do?
“I suppose I should get that wet cloak off of you. I’m sure you’ll feel much better once that is removed.” Whiskers scratched his palm as he rubbed his jaw.
Carefully, he shifted Anna Mae up and about until he was able to remove the heavy, wet cloak. He lowered her. Brown hair that he’d only seen up in a bun now cascaded about her shoulders in a soft curtain of silk.
Anna Mae Leland was the town’s schoolteacher and a good friend of his sister-in-law, Emily Jane Barns. What had she been doing out in this weather? He’d known her only a few months but Josiah believed her to be a sensible woman. So why was she traveling in a blizzard? And where had she been going?
He walked to the door and looked out at the shadow of the mule. His gaze moved back to Anna Mae. Both of them needed immediate care, both needed warmth.
Josiah tossed more wood on the fire and then went into the bedroom where his girls slept. He pulled blankets from the chest at the foot of the bed and carried them back to her. Should he try to make her more comfortable by getting her into dry clothes? Or leave her in the wet dress?