Every Little Thing About You
(The Yellow Rose Trilogy #1)
Lori Wick
What a time it's been. This book has been with me for literally
years. I was ready to begin writing in 1992, but the Kensington
Chronicles came along. They in turn led to other works,
so Texas was shelved for a time. But because of that, the Yellow
Rose Trilogy has taken on better form and dimension, and I think
the books might be better man the first drafts in my mind.
All this to say, I'm so excited to finally put this first book
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down on paper. The people I need to acknowledge have patiently
helped me come to this point. A huge thank-you goes to:
Phil Caminiti. Your wisdom as we walk through the book of
Mark has been invaluable to me. Thank you for your insight, love
of the Word, and humble desire to be more like Jesus Christ.
Thank you for teaching the student, not the lesson. My world is a
bigger place because of you.
Denise Caminiti. The time in your Bible study has been a joy
and a delight I love your honest approach and easy agenda.
Thank you for your patience with me and for never failing to
show me love and acceptance. I consider you a friend so dear.
The women from Bible study. If I try to name all of you, I will be
sure to miss someone. Please allow me to thank all of you for your
love and kindness. I learn so much from you and Thursday mornings
are a highlight of the week for me.
The elders' wives at BECC. Thank you for what you've shared
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and taught me. I am privileged beyond measure to know and fellowship
with you. Thank you for your hunger and humility and
the way you bring glory to God.
My own precious Bob. You hung in there, Wickie! This book
was put on the back burner so many times, and still you waited
in silence. Thank you for being patient and for cheering the
loudest along the way.
Did I laugh before you were born?
Not quite so often, I'm sure.
Did I know about a mother's love before you?
Not by half.
Keep growing, keep trusting,
and never forget that I love you.
For my Tin Man.
September 1881
Austin, Texas
the midafternoon sun beat down unmercifully as the
7
cowboy, a Texas Ranger, rode into town. Heat waves shimmered
on the horizon, and the blowing dust caused the
horse's eyes to squint as Slater Rawlings tethered the dark
roan animal to the hitching post. Other than seeing that the
horse could reach the water trough, Slater gave little heed
to Arrow's comfort. For weeks the rider had been working
on the courage to tell his boss about his decision, and now
it was time to do the job. It was a relief to arrive at the
Austin office and walk in the door.
#"
"Why can't you do both, Slate?" Marty Bracewell asked
one of his best rangers just 15 minutes later. "Why does this
faith thing mean you have to leave?"
'It's not my faith--just as it is, Brace," the younger man
tried to explain. "And it's not the job itself. If s the travel.
I'm tired of tracking and being out on the trail. I want to
settle in someplace for the winter, possibly longer." What
Slater Rawlings didn't try to explain was the need to get to
8
church on Sundays--die ache inside of him for fellowship.
Brace, whose life was the Rangers, would never have
understood.
8 lori wick
"You'll be back," Brace said with confidence, the desk
chair creaking as he leaned back with ease. "It's in your
blood, just like it's in Dakota's. You'll be back."
Slater didn't even reply. He stood, lifting his hat to his
head.
"Take care, Brace."
"I'll do that. You do the same. I want you coming back
fit."
Not only did Slater not reply to this, he didn't even look
back as he placed his badge on the desk. With a hand to the
doorknob, he quietly let himself out. Just moments later he
was back astride Arrow and headed out of town. With a
thought of how cool the hills would be, he headed west.
//^
9
October 1881
Shotgun, Texas
friday afternoons were normally quiet. Saturday nights
were a little more rambunctious, but most days and evenings
in Shotgun were peaceful It was for this reason that Liberty
Drake was surprised to be needed. Being called out of the
sheriff's office to one of the saloons was the last thing she
expected, but Shotgun had laws about carrying firearms into
the saloons or after sunset, so she had a job to do. She
strapped on her holster and followed Jep, the saloon
owner's 11-year-old son, down the street. The boy ran, but
Liberty walked, not apathetic, but not certain she needed to
be out of breath when she arrived.
And indeed, things were quiet when she pushed
through the swinging doors of the Brass Spittoon. Jep's
father, Gordie, nodded his head to a table in the corner. Liberty
took in three men. Two were daytime regulars, but the
blond was a stranger. There wasn't even a drink in front of
10
him, but Liberty had no choice.
"Excuse me," Liberty began politely, waiting for the
man to look at her. "I need you to surrender your firearm
to me. Shotgun has outlawed firearms in the saloons and
after dark."
Slater looked up at the woman beside him. She was
dressed in baggy men's clothes, which did nothing to hide
her gender, and he could only stare. Was that really a sheriff's
badge on her vest? His hesitation cost him. With a move so
9
10 lori wick
fast and smooth that Slater blinked, the woman's gun
cleared leather as swiftly as she lifted his own gun from the
holster at his hip.
"You'll need to come with me, sir," Liberty said calmly.
"What?" Slater returned, finally uttering his first word.
Liberty gestured with the gun and moved so he could
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stand. "This way, please," she ordered congenially but
watching every move as he slowly rose. One of the other
men handed saddlebags to Liberty, and after she'd thanked
him and draped them over her arm, she moved Slater
again with the motion of her gun.
As though he'd been frozen from the cold, Slater
moved very slowly as he walked through the saloon. At the
table he had stopped just short of reaching for his pocket to
show his Ranger's badge when he remembered it wasn't
there. He also remembered what such a move would look
like. He didn't want to run the risk of having this woman
shoot him. She had cleared leather very smoothly, but that
didn't mean sh
e could shoot straight. Barely managing to
keep his amazement concealed, he walked ahead of her
and out onto the street. He made the mistake of turning to
her as soon as he was outside and felt cold steel press into his ribs.
"Just turn back around," she said evenly, "and lead the
way straight up the walk."
Now seething inside, Slater turned and obeyed. He
didn't know when he'd been so angry. At six foot, he was
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not a huge man, but this small woman with the badge,
clearly too full of herself, had him at her mercy. With a
prayer for calm that was slow in coming, Slater did as he
was told. They hadn't walked for a minute when she
spoke.
"In here," she directed, and Slater, already aware of the
location, went through the door of the sheriff's office. He
heard the door shut behind him and turned.
Every little Thing About You 11
"Empty your pockets onto the desk, please," Liberty
ordered, all business, as she put the saddlebags out of reach
on the floor. "Nice and slow will do fine."
Slater did so without ever taking his eyes from her,
which meant he couldn't miss the way she watched him in
return. She was calm; he had to give her that. As he looked
into her eyes, he knew with a bone-chilling certainty that
she would shoot if she felt she had to.
"Now your boots," she instructed.
Slater hesitated and heard the gun cock.
13
"All right," he said smoothly. "I'll just tell you, though,
I do have a knife in my boot. I won't use it--I just wanted
you to know."
second to eye the Bowie knife that appeared. Not a heartbeat
later her eyes were back on her prisoner, who was
removing his boots with slow, measured movements.
"Your belt now," Liberty said as soon as he stood back
to full height. He was a taller man than she liked to deal
with, but she didn't think he was going to threaten her. She
couldn't, however, take any chances.
"Turn around," was the next order, once all of Slater's
belongings were on the desk. "Head into the cell"
Slater did so, the feeling of unreality washing over him
again. He turned as soon as he was inside and watched as
the door was shut and locked. He also watched as Liberty
holstered her gun, set his on the desk, and began to speak.
"Dinner comes at 6:00 this evening, and breakfast
tomorrow at 7:00. You're expected to be neat and quiet.
Unless you're wanted for something, the charge to get out
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is ten dollars."
"Ten dollars!" Slater growled in outrage. "You can't be
serious."
Liberty shrugged. "We need a new jail, and this seems
like the most obvious way to come up with the money."
12 lori wick
Slater's mouth fell open. He couldn't believe what he
had just heard. How in the world had he thought this was
a nice little town?
"I don't suppose you have it/' Liberty said now, her
voice resigned as she studied him.
"Why would you say that?" Slater was just irritated
enough to ask.
Liberty's brows rose. "You can't even afford a haircut
and a shave." There was no censure in her voice, only calm
reason. Slater swallowed his rage as she turned away. He
turned his back on the bars. The cell was standard fare, but
he saw what she meant--repairs were needed.
With a sigh that he made no attempt to hide, Slater
15
walked to the bed and collapsed on the straw mattress,
which sent up a musty odor. He leaned against the wall
and tried to stay calm. Nothing worked. Wrong as it was,
he was furious, and for right now he was going to stay that
way.
Ten dollars, he thought once again. That'll be the day.
*3r
"How'd it go?" Griffin Drake asked the moment he
stepped into the sheriff's office--his office.
"Just a newcomer in town. He wouldn't give up his
gun."
Griffin's eyes went to the cell, where he could see long
legs stretched out from the bunk but no body or face.
"Did he give you any trouble?"
"No, but he's bigger than I like to deal with." .
Griffin smiled. Liberty was always honest.
Brother and sister born heard movement in the cell just
then and turned to see the prisoner coming to stand at the
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bars.
"I'm Griffin Drake," Liberty's brother volunteered,
"sheriff here in Shotgun. What's your name?"
Even/Little Thing About You 13
"Slater Rawlings," the prisoner said, his eyes going
between them. "You're the sheriff?"
"Yes."
"And you want ten dollars from me?"
"Unless you're wanted, and then no amount will gain
your release."
"How was I supposed to know about guns in the
saloon?"
"It's posted above the bar," Griffin told him calmly.
"I didn't go to the bar. I don't even drink."
"Then what were you doing in the saloon?"
/ can't spend all my money on the luxury of a hotel room, and
there's no place else to go in this town after you've slept out in
the woods, Slated thought to himself, but he wasn't about to
admit that to them.
17
Griffin waited calmly for an answer, but the man
turned away. Griffin and Liberty exchanged a glance.
"He doesn't like you, big brother," Liberty said, her
voice low but her eyes lit with a smile. "He was much nicer
for me."
Griffin smiled back. "Let me guess, Lib. You were
Liberty laughed a little and stood. "I'd better get home
so I can help Mam with dinner."
"All right," Griffin said as he walked Liberty outside.
"Thanks for your help." There was no missing the contentment
in his voice as he looked up and down the street and
even back at the sheriff's office, not new by any stretch of
the imagination.
Liberty said her own goodbyes, thinking not for the
first time that her brother was the perfect man to act as
sheriff in Shotgun. He loved this town, believed in it, and
trusted the people who helped run it.
3-S'
18
%r
14 lori wick
When Griffin moved back inside to his desk, he saw
that his prisoner had returned to stand at the bars.
"Don't tell me you let your sister walk the streets
alone." Slater's voice was mildly sarcastic "It's getting
dark She might be harmed."
Griffin did not rise to the bait. On the way to the desk,
he said, "Not my sister. She's the fastest gun in town."
Slater shook his head in disgust Was the man a fool?
He certainly didn't look tough enough to be the sheriff. He
wasn't small, but he had the face of a boy--merry eyes,
smooth cheeks, and all.
"I don't suppose you want to tell me if you're wanted
anywhere," Griffin commented as he lifted a stack
of
wanted posters and flyers onto the desktop from a drawer.
"It might save me some time."
"I'm not wanted," Slater said coldly, knowing the
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lawman would have to check anyway. Slater watched him
start on the stack. Twice Griffin rose to hold a picture up to
the fading light at the window and then look toward the
bars. But he only went back to the desk.
"So tell me," Griffin began after a good ten minutes.
"Why didn't you just give up your gun?"
Slater sighed. "You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
"I was stunned. I honestly didn't think she could be
serious."
"I believe you," Griffin said conversationally. "It's happened
before." This said, Griffin reached for the wallet
Slater had been commanded to put on the desk. He could
see a few bills without even opening it "If I don't find you
in this stack, it looks like you could pay your way out of
here."
"Don't count on it" Slater's voice was decidedly cool.
"Ten dollars is robbery, and we both know it."
Griffin shrugged. "The food's not bad, and it doesn't
get noisy until Saturday night"
20
Every Little Thing About You 15
Slater didn't reply. Neither did Griffin. It would be
easier for the sheriff not to have a man locked up, but he
would leave it up to him.
The stack was still rather high when Griffin needed to
move around a bit He scooped up Slater's belongings and
took them to the safe in the corner. There wasn't much
inside, but the wallet, knife, timepiece, papers, belt, and
saddlebags just about filled it. He then checked the boots
for weapons and set them by the bars.
"What time is it?" Slater asked.
"Coming onto 6:00. Supper will be here soon."
"I can't say as I'm very hungry."
"Suit yourself," Griffin replied in his calm way, and
Slater knew a moment of respect. One of the hallmarks of
a good Ranger was calmness. Another was politeness, and
he knew he'd failed there. But this was so irritating, and at
the moment he couldn't think why God would put him in
this place. He had fought the Lord for weeks about leaving
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the Rangers, and now that he'd talked with Brace, he found
himself in jail.
Slater shook his head as he went back to the bunk. He could well imagine Brace's face if that man could see where he was, not to mention his brother Dakota's. Slater made
himself sit back against the wall before he tried praying
again.
S-*3$
"All