Emma's Wish

Almost before the blacksmith had finished talking, they had mounted and were heading down the main street towards the weathered sign in front of the cafe.

***

Sam's stomach was twisted into knots by the time they'd finished telling their story to the sheriff.

The elderly man stuffed a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth. He set down the fork then scrubbed a checkered napkin across his mouth and dropped it on the table. "Well, now, that's quite a tale," he said, his tone suspicious.

"We're telling the truth," Emma blurted out. "Why don't you believe us?"

"Now, ma'am, it isn't that I don't believe you, but the law--"

Sam bounded up, throwing the chair off balance. He caught it just before it toppled over. "The law gave me custody of my kids. The Howards kidnapped them. If you won't go and get them, then I'll do it myself."

"Now wait a minute--" The sheriff's face reddened, and he stood up.

Sam took several deep breaths. He had to calm down. It wasn't going to do any good to get on the wrong side of the law. He needed the sheriff's help, and if he wasn't careful, he would be the one behind bars before the night was out.

"Look, Sheriff," Sam said, using every ounce of control he could muster to keep his voice calm. "I understand you need proof. All you have to do is go to the telegraph office. Sheriff Holt sent a wire this morning."

"Telegraph office is closed."

"Then keep them here until it opens in the morning."

The sheriff laughed. "Telegraph office won't be open until noon." Picking up his coffee, he drained the cup in one gulp.

"Noon? They'll be gone by then."

Emma took a step to stand in front of Sam. Her eyes filled with tears and ran unchecked down her cheeks. "You have to believe us ...”

"Now, ma'am, don't go getting weepy--"

"Sheriff, do you have children?"

He smiled. "Four. And seven grandchildren."

Emma gave him a tremulous smile. "Then you must understand how desperate I am to see my children. Why, if anything happens to them ..."

The sheriff got up."Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to go and talk to these folks. Then we'll see."

***

Emma's legs could barely support her as she followed the three men into the hotel lobby. Fatigue, fear, and anger all warred with each other inside her. Her heart pounded inside her chest, and tears hovered just inside.

After speaking to the bespectacled little man who was apparently the proprietor, the sheriff led them up the stairs to the rooms the Howards were occupying for the night.

The sheriff stopped in front of a heavy oak door. "They've got the room next door, too," he said to Sam, indicating another closed door a few feet down the corridor. "There's a door between the two inside. Dangdedest thing I ever heard of," he muttered. "Who'd ever want a room with a door to the one next to it anyway?"

Sam raised his hand to knock at the door, but the sheriff pulled him away before he had a chance. "I want you three to stay out of sight and let me handle this."

"Look, sheriff--" Sam started to say.

"Sam," Fred put in. "Let the sheriff do his job."

Sam nodded. The muscle in his jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. Emma could tell it was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to break down the door and charge inside. But he took a few steps back, out of sight of the door.

As for her, her heartbeat was so loud in her ears she could scarcely hear what the sheriff was saying.

Emma could hear a child crying on the other side of the door. A harsh voice spoke, and the child's cries faded. She rested her hand on Sam's arm. "Oh, Sam, it's Nathan." Turning to the sheriff, she pleaded. "Please hurry. Something's wrong with my son."