Carry Me Home

Chapter 21 – Never Comin' Back

The sheriff of St. Joe, Missouri was a fair man. Aaron Estabrook was his name, and he'd been sheriff for nine years. The town had grown a lot since he took the job, and all kinds of people came through; some settled there. Some moved on and never came back. Some caused trouble before they left. Samantha Crawford was one of those.

Almost four years ago Sam had come into St. Joe and driven all the single men crazy. And most of the married ones, too. She was southern and charming and beautiful, and just about the most devious woman Sheriff Estabrook had ever met. After causing as much trouble among the male population as one woman could cause she came to the jail and claimed that her purse had been stolen. Pilfered from her hotel room while she was at dinner. She gave him a description of the purse and he never saw her again. About ten days later she got into some kind of a disagreement that had the potential to turn violent with a local man, Evan Clancy, and the end result was not good. She shot Clancy and disappeared. It had taken him all this time to locate her and finally get a judge to issue an arrest warrant. And when he wired the information to the sheriff in Dry Springs, New Mexico, no arrest followed.

Sheriff Estabrook returned to town bone weary from riding almost two hundred miles and wasn't pleased when his deputy told him that Miss Crawford had finally shown up in St. Joe. With a slick looking gambling man that was probably her partner. Well, he'd deal with her tomorrow. And the partner named Maverick. The next morning he sent Deputy Smithfield to the hotel to let her know that he was back. Then he sent Smithfield out to Clancy's place to ask him to come identify her. And he waited. And waited.

It was late morning when she finally walked in, and the years had been kind to her. Still a beautiful woman, but a different kind now. You could see by the look in her eyes that she'd been through some hard times and come out a different person for it. And if that was Smithfield's idea of a 'slick looking gambling man' the poor boy needed a better education in reading people. The man that accompanied her was dressed like a gambler, but carried himself differently. This man was educated and intelligent, polite and a gentleman. You could tell by the way he treated Samantha, opening doors and pulling out chairs. And probably not a well man; he carried a cane, which he used on occasion, and appeared thin and pale. Estabrook stood to be polite and offered them both a chair in front of his desk.

"Miss Crawford, you know I have a warrant for your arrest on the charge of attempted murder. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you in jail right now."

Maverick reached across the desk to shake hands with the sheriff. "My name's Bart Maverick, sheriff. I'm a friend of Miss Crawford's. You shouldn't 'throw her in jail' because she isn't guilty of any crime."

"Mr. Maverick, the man she shot identified his assailant as Samantha Crawford." The sheriff was firm on that point.

"Ah, sheriff," Bart answered, "Miss Crawford has already explained that. She reported her purse stolen to you yourself approximately ten days before the shooting incident occurred."

"That's true, Mr. Maverick. That's why I sent Deputy Smithfield out to Evan Clancy's place to have the man she shot come to town and identify her himself. He should be here soon. Can I offer you coffee while we wait?"

"Certainly," Bart replied. Samantha shook her head 'no.' The sheriff walked over to the well-used coffee pot and poured a cup.

Bart turned to Sam. "This Clancy fellow wouldn't identify you out of spite, would he?"

Sam was perplexed by the question. "Why would he? I never even met the man."

"Good." He accepted the cup of coffee from the sheriff and they waited. Within a few minutes Smithfield and Clancy walked into the jail, obviously disagreeing about something. Clancy looked at the sheriff and asked, "What did you need me for, Aaron?"

"I need you to identify the woman that shot you, Evan," Estabrook replied, looking in Samantha's direction.

"Where is she?" Clancy asked.

"Right in front of you," came the answer.

Evan Clancy stepped back and took a good look at Samantha. Then he tipped his hat to her and said "Sorry, ma'am, if this's caused you any trouble." He turned back to the sheriff. "Aaron, this may be Samantha Crawford, but this sure ain't the woman that shot me. The Samantha Crawford that I met wasn't no lady. And she was dark haired and nowhere near as pretty."

Aaron Estabrook looked fit to be tied. "Are you sure? This is Samantha Crawford."

Clancy shook his head and you could hear the displeasure in his voice. "I'm sure. This ain't the woman that shot me." He didn't wait for the sheriff to say anything else, he just turned in his tracks and went back outside.

"Are you satisfied, Sheriff? Miss Crawford would like to be assured that this matter is settled." The only thing the trip had done was give him time to reconsider his earlier decision about him and Sam.

Estabrook was caught between a rock and a hard place. He'd never believed Samantha about her purse and its contents and he was paying for that choice now. "Miss Crawford, sorry for the mix-up. Clancy never gave me a description of the woman that shot him. I just assumed . . . . . "

Samantha finally spoke up. "And you just naturally assumed I was a liar," she finished for him.

The lawman smiled sheepishly. "I hate to admit it, but yes ma'am, I did. And I'm sorry for that."

Sam turned to Bart for his opinion. "That's about all you're gonna get, Sam. Might as well accept the apology and move on."

She nodded in agreement. "I'm sure you're right. Very well, Sheriff Estabrook, apology accepted." Back to Bart. "Let's go. I don't like jails." She stood and waited for Bart to get up. He was a little slow and the sheriff read concern in her eyes. He wondered what relationship these two had.

"I don't either," Maverick remarked. He took her by the elbow and guided her to the jail door, which he opened for her. As he turned to leave he tipped his hat to Estabrook. "Sheriff."

Outside Evan Clancy was standing with his horse. "I'm awfully sorry, ma'am, that Aaron made you come all the way here. From New Mexico, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Clancy, from New Mexico."

Clancy continued, feeling that he had to explain Aaron Estabrook. "I gave him a description at the time, ma'am. Maybe he's forgotten. Sheriff's a good man."

"I'm sure he is, Mr. Clancy. I think he just doesn't like me."

"No, ma'am. It's not you. He's just got an odd way about him. Doesn't like some of the riff-raff in this town. Good day, ma'am." And with that Clancy mounted his horse and rode away.

"What was all that about?" Samantha wondered.

"Don't know," was her escort's reply.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Doesn't what bother me?" He hesitated for just a moment, shifted the cane to his other hand, and leaned on it as he walked. He'd used the cane more today than any time recently and she was concerned that something was troubling him that he wasn't discussing.

"The way some people think about gamblers in general and you in particular."

"What, riff-raff? I've been called worse. Does it bother you?"

Yes, it bothered her, but she wouldn't admit it. "No. Shall we go shopping?"

XXXXXXXX

They were standing in the general store and she was trying on a hat. She'd already found a new dress and a riding skirt, and Bart, true to his word, had surprised her. He'd bought two shirts and a tie, and a pair of arm garters. It was the first time she'd ever seen him spend money on anything but food and poker.

"Well, what shall we do now?" he queried her.

"I'm not done shopping!" she protested.

"Yes you are," he laughed. "Let's get a buggy and go somewhere."

"A buggy ride? You are full of surprises today, Mr. Maverick."

"Come on. There's gottta be a livery around here somewhere. We can ask when you buy your clothes." 'Please ask,' he thought to himself. His back had been in terrible shape since they started the cross-country journey, and it just kept getting worse. That's where the heavy dependence on the cane was coming from. He was not about to tell Sam anything about it.

"Alright. If that's what you want to do."

"It is."

Sam paid for her purchases and asked the clerk about a livery stable. There was one right down the street, the clerk pointed out. She and Bart took their packages and headed that way.

An hour later they were in the St. Joe countryside, headed for a small lake the livery owner had given them directions to. They had a basket of food and a blanket with them, and Bart handling the reins, hoping the movement in his shoulders would help stretch his back out.

Samantha was happy to be out in the sunshine and not trapped inside a dreary stagecoach. She still didn't know where she and Bart were headed, literally or figuratively, but she was willing to hang on and see what happened. Now that the mix-up with Clancy, Estabrook and the Samantha Crawford imposter was settled, they could spend some time just being together.

Bart saw the lake up ahead that he was looking for and headed the horse for the north shore, where there was a small grove of red maples and willow oaks. A perfect place to spread out the blanket and lie down. And maybe catch up on some of the sleep he'd missed last night.

Which is just what he was about to do after they'd eaten. He was lying on his back, on the very edge of sleep, when Sam asked him a question out of the blue. He struggled to stay awake enough to answer her.

"How long do you want me to stay?"

"Hmmmm? Oh, as long as you can." What did she have to hurry back to? The cattle were sold and the house was being rebuilt. All things Jess and Randy could certainly handle.

"When are you going to look for a poker game?"

"Maybe tonight. Or tomorrow night. Not sure yet." He rolled over onto his side and was surprised to be looking into Sam's face. When had she lain down? She was certainly beautiful, and he traced the lines of her cheeks and lips with his finger. Then he kissed her, softly, and felt her sigh.

"When are you coming home to the ranch?"

It was not the question he'd expected. When had the ranch become home to Samantha? Sometime after the fire burned the house down, he suspected. She'd actually considered selling the place – now it sounded like she had no intention of leaving it. "I'm not, Sam."

"What does that mean? Never? You're never coming back?" There was fear in her voice and fear in her heart.

He hadn't been ready to share his answer with her, not yet. It was something that he'd figured out somewhere along the way to St. Joe. He couldn't go back, not if he was ever going to be free of Caroline. She was everywhere he looked, everywhere he turned. Even with the house burned to the ground, she was there. "I can't come back, Sam. I can't find any peace there. I should have figured it out sooner. There's no room in my heart for anyone but her when I'm there. If we have any kind of a chance to make this work you have to stay out here with me. Maybe not traveling forever; maybe there's someplace to settle down. But not Dry Springs." He thought about Silver Creek. 'Maybe in Montana. With some of the family.'

Somehow she knew. She'd heard it in his voice; seen it in his eyes. The ghost of Caroline still haunted her husband when he was at the Double C Ranch. The only place on earth he couldn't stand to be. The only place on earth she couldn't stand to be away from.