The lawyer hurried to the cell surrounded by the sheriff, Eli, Angel and Nate. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned to the sheriff. “Sheriff, I’m sure Mrs. Hardwick can be bonded out.”
“Well, I can’t rightly say.” The sheriff rubbed his chin. “I’m waiting for instructions from New York.”
“I don’t give a damn—excuse me ladies—what New York says. I want her out of here now,” Eli thundered.
Damian turned to him. “Eli, let me and the sheriff discuss this. It will all go much smoother.”
The attorney took the sheriff by the elbow and eased him away from the crowd. “Sheriff, this woman is Mr. Eli Benson’s fiancée.”
The sheriff pulled his arm free and placed fisted hands on his hips. “Damn it man, I know that. What I’m trying to tell you is I have to wait on instructions from New York.”
Damian lowered his voice as he continued to move the man away from the cell. Eli turned in their direction, listening to every word the lawyer said. “Sir, the reason I mention that is because Mrs. Hardwick is obviously not going anywhere. I would like you to release her into Mr. Benson’s guardianship. We will make her available to you when your instructions are received.”
The sheriff rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’ll release her, but you make sure she stays in your house.” He pointed at Eli.
As the cell door swung open, Sylvia collapsed into Eli’s arms, sobbing. Throwing the sheriff a dirty look, Eli walked her out of the office, murmuring, and rubbing her back as they left.
“Sheriff, we would sure like more information on this. Did the police in New York tell you anything else except the charges?” Nate took the chair across from the Sheriff’s desk in the newly quiet office.
“No. Sorry, Nate,” he said, flopping in his chair. “As soon as they tell me, I’ll let you know.”
Damian Lawton tugged his hat back on, and approached the sheriff. “I would like to be notified the minute you receive further information. I will be either in my office, or at home.” With a nod in Angel and Nate’s direction, he left.
Blowing out a huge breath, the sheriff rotated his shoulders, and turned to Nate. “From now on, I’ll let you deal with Eli Benson. That man may be of short stature, but he’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“That’s because he’s very tall when he stands on his money.” Angel smirked, as she and Nate headed to the door.
Lucy sat in front of the gilded mirror in her room, brushing her hair, when she heard voices downstairs. Daydreams of her and Nate in San Francisco were interrupted by sobbing and the low rumble of her father’s voice. Curious, she quickly pulled her hair back and tied it with a ribbon.
As she reached the bottom step, her father and a distraught Sylvia murmured to each other in the front hall. Papa slid his arm around Sylvia, and she sobbed into his shoulder. Lucy rolled her eyes and wondered what tragedy had struck the woman now.
Papa and Sylvia entered the parlor, and Lucy joined them.
“What’s wrong, Papa?” she said with glee, taking in the woman’s distress.
“The idiot sheriff arrested Mrs. Hardwick today. It’s all a mistake. We’re waiting for him to clear it up.”
Lucy’s heart jumped for joy, but she kept a sorrowful expression on her face. “Oh, that’s terrible, ma’am. I’m sure it will all be straightened out soon,” she murmured.
“Lucy, will you please ask Cook to make a pot of tea for Mrs. Hardwick?”
“Yes, Papa, absolutely. Right away.” As she turned to leave the room, Sylvia wailed, “I don’t understand.”
After Lucy took care of passing along her father’s request, she returned to her room. She poured a glass of brandy and sat on the edge of her bed to think.
Mrs. Sylvia Hardwick had finally been arrested. The law had caught up with the common thief. She swung around and put her feet up, then took a leisurely sip of the brown liquid, rolling it around her mouth before she swallowed. A pity that a woman couldn’t enjoy a glass of brandy in public like men could.
If only it had been Angel arrested. Lucy was more convinced than ever the Hardwick women were criminals. She felt almost giddy at the image of both of them being led away with their hands tied behind their backs, the sheriff moving them along with his rifle square in their middle.
Nate braked the buggy in front of the jailhouse, the same time Damian Lawton arrived. They nodded to each other, and entered the building.
“Got information here for you fellas.” The sheriff lifted a piece of paper from his desk and leaned forward, holding the missive next to the oil lamp.
They waited patiently while the sheriff’s eyes flicked over it once more.
“The New York City Police said Mrs. Hardwick absconded with money from her husband’s estate that should have been repaid to depositors. It states in this here telegram that she needs to return to New York to face charges, or, since the country is involved in a war right now, they will dismiss the charges if she returns the money.”
“How much money are we talking about, sheriff?” Nate wanted to know.