The Marshal & Susanna

The Marshal & Susanna

Dakota Lawmen Mysteries, Book 3

By

L.K. Campbell

Copyright © 2018 by L.K. Campbell

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in relevant and critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, businesses, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Photo © Dreamstime.com and © KathySG / Shutterstock.com

Cover Design © L.K. Campbell

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Excerpt: The Deputy & Mirabel

Author’s Note

About The Author

Chapter 1

Dakota Territory

1884

THE MAN SEATED opposite Susanna shrugged off his dark brown coat. Her gaze traveled from the silver badge pinned to his vest to the gun holstered at his side. He removed his wide-brimmed hat revealing short, raven-colored hair. While the lack of lines on his face made him appear young, his eyes told a different story. She’d wager that he’d seen a lot in life and not all of it good.

How do you do? He looked at her and then at her father who sat next to her. I’m Marshal Seth Davis.

Her papa extended his right hand across the coach. Stanley Washburn, sir and this is my daughter, Susanna.

Marshal Davis nodded and smiled at her. Nice to meet you.

As the stagecoach got underway, she leaned toward the window. They had left open plains behind and were heading into rugged, hilly territory. I suppose that means a bumpy ride for the last leg of our trip.

Where are you folks headed? Marshal Davis asked.

We’re on our way to Red Gorge, her papa said. Have you heard of it?

No, but I haven’t been in these parts since I was a small boy, he said. From what I’ve heard, a lot of mining towns have sprung up with the gold rush.

My nephew, Jared Hopkins, facilitated the purchase of a business in Red Gorge. I’m a clockmaker by trade, but my wife died last year, and I needed to get out of Philadelphia and make a new start.

Stanley Washburn had never met a stranger, a trait which made him a successful shopkeeper but in recent times, he’d grown more reserved. Life had been difficult for him since her mama died. She’d watched after him during the worst days when melancholy had threatened to consume him. She’d seen him turn gray, lose weight, and begin to have poor health. It couldn’t have been easy to lose his companion of forty years—the mother of his six children. Watching him open up and talk to the marshal brought a smile to both her lips and her heart.

Receiving word from Jared that the saloon in Red Gorge had been put up for sale was a godsend, her father continued. Of course, running a saloon will be a new experience for me, but Jared said that it’s a two-story building with rooms above the barroom. I have it in mind to convert the business into an inn.

In the beginning, Susanna had gone along with him without question. For the first time in months, she’d seen him excited about something and didn’t want to spoil it for him. A change of scenery might have been exactly what he needed, but now that they’d traveled many miles without passing through any large communities, she’d begun to have doubts.

My nephew came out here a few years ago and got into the gold-mining business. He went to work for a wealthy lady named Julia Fitzgerald and now he’s her mining supervisor. He paused long enough to take a breath. Are you married, Marshal Davis?

No, sir, he said.

Well, you must remedy that situation. I don’t believe that we’re meant to be alone in the world. Everyone needs a companion.

Susanna grasped his arm. Papa, I’m sure the marshal will decide when he’s ready to marry.

The coughing sound in his throat meant that he was perturbed with her for interrupting his story.

You reach a certain age in life, Marshal, and your daughter suddenly becomes your mother.

The marshal snickered, and she shook her head.

Actually, I am eternally grateful for everything that Susanna has done for me. He paused and patted her hand. This young lady has forfeited her own life to assist me through a rough period of time.

Susanna wouldn’t have said that she’d forfeited her life. Her father made it sound nobler than it was. She’d simply changed jobs—leaving the florist shop to take her mother’s place as his bookkeeper and store manager.

Papa, she whispered. May I see the map that Jared sent us?

After passing the paper to her, he removed his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. His eyelids drooped. He had to have been worn out from their trip. They’d traveled by train from Philadelphia to the town of Yankton in the Dakota Territory. From Yankton, it had been a slow journey by stagecoach with many stops along the way.

She turned her attention to Jared’s map. She hadn’t seen her cousin in a few years, although he was more of a brother than a cousin. He’d come to live with her family after his parents died in a cholera outbreak. At eighteen, he had taken off for the Dakota Territory after reading a newspaper article about the Black Hills gold rush. For a long while, he hadn’t written, but one day, they’d received a letter from him informing them of his employment with a Mrs. Fitzgerald who owned a mining operation in Red Gorge.

How much longer before we reach Red Gorge? she asked her papa.

He took out his pocket watch. Thirty minutes if we arrive on time.

Thirty minutes until we find out if Papa has bought a pig in a poke. She retrieved her sketchpad and pencil from her bag. She skimmed through the renderings she’d created during the trip and found a blank page. Drawing had always been one of her favorite hobbies. As a child, she would go up to the rooftop of their townhouse to sketch scenes of the city. When she’d been hired at the florist shop, one of her jobs had been to take care of the plants and flowers grown in the hothouse. Using watercolors, she’d created a catalog featuring every flower.

She began her new drawing by sketching the inside of the coach. She watched the marshal remove a book from his leather satchel and open it to a page where he’d used a small envelope as a bookmark. Soon his likeness took shape on her drawing paper. He had strong features—square jaw, high cheekbones. His unique face didn’t resemble anyone’s that she’d ever seen in the past. He was handsome, yes, but not enough to cause him to be conceited about it. She’d known a few men who fit that description. They’d only been interested in the best girls from the best families—prizes to hang on their arms like fine jewelry. As she continued to work on the details of the marshal’s face, Susanna couldn’t help wondering what kind of woman would interest him.

What is that you’re drawing? her papa asked.

She flipped back a page before he could see that she’d begun a sketch of the marshal. Nothing important. Just the passing scenery.

Leaning her head against the faded, velvet-covered seat, she closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized that she’d dozed off or that they’d arrived at their destination until the coach jerked and tossed her forward. She grabbed the edges of the bench to steady herself.

Daughter, it looks as if we’ve arrived.

The driver opened the door, and her papa went out first. She gathered the hem of her dark blue skirt and held it up high enough to keep from tripping on the coach’s narrow step. The driver offered her his hand to assist her.

Marshal, I’m going to water the team and let them rest for a few minutes before we head on to Rapid City, the driver said. Would you like to stretch your legs?

"Yes, I would. Thank you."

She had hoped to say her goodbyes to the marshal, but her papa crooked his index finger at her.

Come this way, Susanna.

He waved across the dirt street at Jared who stood on the wooden sidewalk under a hanging sign that read, The Lucky Seven Saloon. The building appeared to be sturdy enough, but the rest of the town left her with strong doubts concerning her father’s purchase. His plans for turning the saloon into an inn now seemed improbable. Other than being a stop on the stage route and a hub for the gold miners, it didn’t seem that Red Gorge had much to offer. A few wooden buildings dotted either side of the dirt road and beyond that were several small shacks and canvas tents. Where is the church? The schoolhouse? Oh, Papa, where have you brought us?

Jared hurried over to them. He was more robust than the last time she’d seen him. For one thing, he’d lost his boyish countenance and grown into manhood. He’d even sprouted a red beard and mustache to complement the dark auburn hair that ran in their family. His physical strength was evident in the hug he gave her.

Susanna, you’re skinny as a rail, he said. We’ll have to put some meat on your bones.

I like my bones just fine, she said.

He and her father embraced.

You two are a welcome sight, he said. Let me help with the baggage.

Thank you, her papa said. We traveled light since your letter said that the saloon’s former owner had left everything behind.

Yes, sir,