Page 50 of Redeeming the Outlaw
“Whit! It’s good to see you!” Whit turned to see Mrs. Ardenhad come out of the mercantile and was sweeping the porch. “Are you back? We have fresh coffee on the stove.”
He waved to the shopkeeper’s wife. “Not right now, but maybe later.”
“Dillon has saved all the papers while you’ve been gone.”
“Tell him thank you, Mrs. Arden.” Turning back to Bobby, Whit pushed the boy back toward the store. “You need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later. Be good,” he added as he reached the door to the marshal’s office.
He stepped through the familiar front door, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. The comforting smell of paper, dried ink, and stale coffee mixed with drying beeswax wafted through the air, but Whit couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease which settled in his chest.
Briggs was sitting hunched over his desk with a furrowed brow, reading a letter. Whit’s gut clenched as Briggs dropped the paper and pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shaking.
Was Briggs crying?
“Everything all right, boss?” Whit asked as he walked to the potbelly stove in the corner.
It would allow Briggs a few minutes to pull himself together. Taking a mug from a peg on the wall, he blew the dust from the interior before pouring himself a cup of coffee. Briggs quickly folded the paper and shoved it in his vest pocket, shifting in his seat to look out the window. Whit afforded his friend the privacy he needed as he dragged a chair from the wall to the corner of the marshal’s desk.
“Just some news I wasn’t expecting.”
“What kind of news?” Whit blew on his coffee; it was too hot to drink. Putting the mug on top of some papers, he folded his hands across his belly and slouched in the chair.
Briggs sighed heavily, running a hand over his weathered face before turning to Whit. “The kind which makes a man question everything he thought he knew.” He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. “It’s going to take some time to wrap my head around it.”
Whit leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you can turn back time.”
“Not in the cards today, I’m afraid.” Whit lifted the mug of coffee and gently blew on it once more before taking a cautious sip. His face twisted into a scowl of distaste. He glanced over at Briggs, who was leisurely sipping his own coffee with a smirk on his face. “Ugh. Briggs, this coffee is horrible.”
“Probably left over from yesterday.” Briggs lifted his cup in a silent toast. “I went to see Rose.”
“I’ll go to the mercantile then.”
“Speaking of expectations. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You hadn’t stopped by the house, and I needed to see you.”
“I just returned to town this morning. What’s going on?”
Whit sat up in the chair and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Marshal, I owe you an apology. Shooting you, not capturing the entire gang. I feel like I let you down.”
Briggs waved off his concern. “Nonsense, Whit. You did an excellent job out there. We lowered their numbers significantly.” He leaned back, studying the younger man. “Takes guts to stand up to the likes of the Richards. You showed true courage. You found out what the Richards gang was planning.” He tilted his head. “Took quite a beating for it. Saved the girl and Hart, too What more could I ask from you?”
Pride swelled in Whit’s chest at the praise, but he couldn’tshake the nagging feeling he should have done more. “Still, I can’t help but feel responsible Brodie and Ma Richards are still out there. I should never have gotten caught.”
The marshal’s expression grew somber. “Whit, you did better than any law officer could do under those circumstances. I apologize I couldn’t do more for you.”
Whit nodded, understanding the challenges Briggs faced. “I can only imagine, but the people of Flat River need you. They rely on you to keep them safe. Have you heard anything more about where Brodie and his ma might be?”
“Not yet. I found out there are four more brothers. Younger ones.”
“Four more?” Whit shook his head in disbelief. “If the Richards are popping up like daisies, then they won’t stop until they see us all in Boot Hill.”
A chill ran down his spine at the thought of the ruthless brothers still out there, plotting their next move.
“And the cousins?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.
“None left. Esther mentioned a sister, but I’ve not been able to locate her.”
