Cabin Fever: A M/M Western Romance Read online

  Emilia Loft

  Cabin Fever

  A M/M Western Romance

  Copyright © 2020 by Emilia Loft

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

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  Contents

  1. Chapter 1: Lockwood

  2. Chapter 2: A New Sheriff in Town

  3. Chapter 3: Barn-Raising

  4. Chapter 4: Gone A'Courting

  5. Chapter 5:A Mind Divided

  6. Chapter 6: The Rain Must Fall

  7. Chapter 7: Pretty Saro

  8. Chapter 8:No Way On Earth to Hide It

  9. Chapter 9: Beat the Devil Aroud the Stump

  10. Chapter 10:Stand-Off

  11. Epilogue

  Also by Emilia Loft

  1

  Chapter 1: Lockwood

  Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the branches of Ponderosa pines dotting the sides of the mountain as the Montana Rail train chugged around a curve. It emerged from a copse of trees to overlook the shining surface of a placid lake, a Cormorant lazily floating in the middle, occasionally ducking its head under water.

  John Jameson watched the scenery pass as the train carried him closer to his destination. He rested back on the bench in his compartment, his booted feet crossed, running a hand over his blonde mustache as he thought about the circumstances that brought him here. Beside him was the telegram that had arrived not more than a fortnight before, detailing his travel arrangements to Lockwood, where he would start his new life and career.

  The United States Army had been his home for as long as John could remember. He’d joined to escape a drunken father and a house with too many mouths to feed at age fifteen. He’d lied about his age and the Army had needed men badly enough that they’d taken in the scrawny, blonde youth with no questions. John learned to survive in the Army because there had been no other option. Now, though still shorter than average, John was all lean muscle and strong resolve. A bullet through his shoulder had ended his Army career, leaving him floundering with nowhere to go. The news of a town in Northwest Montana in need of a sheriff had come just before the bill collectors hauled him away and John had grasped at the opportunity. Though his shoulder still pained him whenever the weather turned, he remained a crack shot and still possessed the iron will that had made him an asset to the Army. Promised a modest cabin and a reasonable wage to keep law and order in the town of Lockwood, John sold most of his belongings and packed a bag to venture Westward into the unknown wilderness.

  He’d also left behind a complicated situation with a friend that was best left in the past. John had met James during his recovery from the shooting and they’d fallen into something more than friendship that John wasn’t quite comfortable acknowledging just yet. Best to forget it, to file it away, and never think of the nights they spent together.

  Lockwood was nestled in a valley, hidden away from view until right at the moment the train rounded a bend off a high bridge and descended into a mountain tunnel. The bustling Western town straddled the line of civilization and the lawless West, rising up amongst the homesteaders and the mining camps to establish its community.

  John observed his new home, growing closer, with serious eyes. He sat up and gathered his things, placing his black cowboy hat back on his head and shrugging into the black, thigh-length coat he’d placed beside him on the bench. The train puffed into the station, slowing to a stop and John could hear passengers emerging from compartments to leave. He rose and retrieved his bag, then exited the compartment and joined the flow of passengers.

  The train station sat at the outskirts of Lockwood, funneling the arrivals onto main street, which was lined with the standard shops you’d find in any small town. A horse-drawn buggy ambled up the dusty main street and John could see people milling the sidewalks outside the general store as he stepped off the train.

  No one was meeting him at the station; the telegram he’d received gave directions to meet with the mayor of Lockwood in his offices near the sheriff’s premises where John would ultimately work. Consulting the scrap of paper, John asked the ticket agent for directions and then ambled off towards Main Street.

  It was spring in Montana and the air was pleasant and warm. John inhaled the fresh air and smiled as he walked, observing the comings and goings in town. He tipped his hat and smiled a greeting to a woman passing by and she returned the smile, bobbing her head and continuing on her way.

  The Mayor’s office was at the north end of Main Street, in a modest, but distinguished, brick building. John ascended the stairs and let himself in through the door. He removed his hat once he was inside and stumped into the office. An older woman, graying hair in a bun, glanced up from her dusting and smiled.

  “Good day, sir.” She said, brushing the front of her blue gingham dress. “May I help you?”

  John nodded. “Good day to you, ma’am. I’m Captain John Jameson, here to see the Mayor?”

  “Oh, yes! He’s expecting you! I’m Mrs. Hudson; I help around the office, do a little cleaning. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “Thank you, kindly.”

  Mrs. Hudson disappeared through a door and John wandered over to the window to look out onto the street. He could see his reflection in the panes of glass and noted how tired he looked. He’d lost weight and muscle during his recovery from being shot and the stresses of life afterwards had compounded those effects. He hoped a new career and life that featured plenty of fresh air and sunlight would return his old vim and vigor, help him regain the strength he’d lost in the days after his departure from the Army.

  “Captain Jameson, I do hope your trip was uneventful?”

  John turned around and came face to face with Mayor Mikael Lofte. The man was tall and slim, with a sharp nose and a ginger mustache, closely trimmed in a horseshoe shape that extended down the sides of his chin. His equally ginger hair was sparse on the top of his head, but combed neatly.

  He wore a well-fitted black suit over black trousers. Underneath his suit jacket was a silver waistcoat swirled with embroidery details. A black Western bow tie was fastened at his neck. Shiny black lace-up boots completed his outfit, all of which gave him a distinguished air.

  John straightened his back and stuck his hand out. “Mayor Lofte, sir, it’s an honor to meet you.” Mikael pumped John’s hand up and down several times. “I’m sure you are tired from your trip. I have some paperwork for you to sign in my office and then I shall show you where you’ll work. After that, I can arrange for transportation to your living quarters.”

  John followed Mikael into his office and they quickly took care of the required paperwork. The Mayor withdrew a shiny gold Sheriff’s badge and passed it to John, and then took out a gun and ammunition. John held up his hand.

  “If it’s all the same, sir, I brought my own Colt revolver and would prefer to use that.” John tucked the badge in an inside pocket of his jacket for the time being.

  Mikael nodded and put the gun away. “Perfectly acceptable.”

  The last thing the Mayor passed over was a set of keys to the Sheriff’s office next door. “There’s the key to the front and back doors, as well as the keys to the cell inside. For now I don’t think you’ll have need for a deputy as you’ll find our town is fairly civilized. However, we are growing and if you find yourself in n
eed of help, please let me know immediately.”

  “What about a horse, sir? Won’t I need a horse?”

  “Indeed. I own a ranch not too far out of town. I thought you might come to dinner tonight and look at my horses. I believe one of them will be suitable for your needs.”

  “I’d be honored to dine with you and your family.” John replied.

  “I’m afraid it’s just myself and my brother - our parents passed away several years ago. My brother is… shall we say unique? I do not know if he will join us. But you’ll meet my staff and I’ll show you around the ranch. Now, shall we go take a look at your working quarters?”

  The Sheriff’s office was a small, one-room building with a desk in one corner and a small jail cell in the other. Several sets of file drawers lined the wall across from the desk. A small, pot-bellied stove sat in the middle of the room for use during the cold winters. John walked around the office, nodding his head.

  “Yes, this should serve just fine.” He said. “And my living quarters? You wrote of a cabin?”

  “A small cabin, not too far from my ranch. It’s a 15-minute carriage ride from here. Shall we go?”

  A black, horse-drawn carriage had been summoned and John and Mikael rode in companionable silence to a short distance outside the city limits. The log cabin was small, but sturdy, made of reddish-colored logs and sat in an area of scrub brush and pine trees. Through the trees, John glimpsed the shining surface of a small pond. A stack of firewood leaned against one side of the cabin. Inside, the one-room cabin held a wooden table and chairs, several wooden cupboards for storing linens and clothes, a large stone fireplace with a hook to hold a cooking pot, and a pole bed covered in a faded patchwork quilt. A rocking chair sat in the corner at the end of the bed.

  “I’ve arranged an account for you at the general store.” Mikael said. “They’ll set you up with some necessities to start with. Lanterns, oil, and other staples. As part of your pay, I would like to offer food from my ranch - we have plenty of eggs and fresh milk to spare, as well as food from our gardens. Anything else can be found at the general store, of course, though you’ll be responsible for purchasing your own goods after your initial set-up.”

  “Of course, that’s incredibly generous of you.”

  “I won’t lie, Captain Jameson. The isolation of the West, as well as our harsh winters, has made it rather difficult to keep lawmen employed in Lockwood. If I can offer a modicum of comfort, I shall, if only to keep you pleased with your surroundings.”

  John nodded. “I thank you, sir. My life in the Army was never very glamorous, so I’m sure this will be fine.”

  Behind the cabin, through the back door, John found an outhouse and a small paddock and barn where he could keep his horse. A modest collection of tools hung on one wall of the barn, as well as a spare horse trough that John thought he might utilize as a bathtub when washing time came. Set at an angle from the ground outside the cabin were doors that led to a root cellar. John surveyed everything while nodding, a pleased smile crossing his face.

  “This will do nicely, sir.”

  “We hope to make you comfortable. You are, of course, welcome at Lofte’ Ranch at any time and I hope you’ll let me know if you need anything.”

  John marveled at his luck, that he should have found someplace so accommodating to his comfort. Though the pay was relatively low, the living quarters and support from the Mayor would more than make up for that. Mikael withdrew a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat and flicked open the lid.

  “Now, shall we repair to my ranch so that we may choose your horse before dinner?”

  They returned to Mikael’s carriage, which took them down a winding lane to a large set of gates leading up to a sprawling ranch house and property. John whistled in awe as he took in the large expanse of land.

  “Impressive set-up you have here, sir.” He murmured.

  “It’s been in the family for years.” Mikael answered, smiling smugly. “We’re proud of the legacy and quite a lot of the food and livestock raised here goes to benefit the town.”

  The carriage dropped them in front of the ranch house and Mikael led John to the horse corrals. He showed John four horses - a stallion and three mares - as his options. After examining all four, John chose a Blue Roan mare, her coat stippled with black. Her soft, dark eyes turned to John and she whickered softly, pressing her velvet nose into his palm. Mikael instructed the men working in the corrals to outfit John with a saddle and reins.

  “Does she have a name?” John asked.

  “I believe my brother named this one. What did he choose, Jennings?”

  The man choosing John’s saddle looked over. “Azure, sir.”

  Mikael smiled tightly. “As I said, my brother is rather eccentric. You’re welcome to change the name if you choose.”

  “Azure.” John murmured, stroking the mare’s black mane. “I think that will do nicely.”

  “I’m glad we have that settled, then.” Mikael said, leaning back on his heels. “We’ll arrange for hay and feed to be delivered to you regularly. Shall we go inside? I believe dinner will be served quite soon.”

  John’s stomach growled insistently at the mention of dinner and he followed Mikael inside the ranch house and into the large dining room. They were served plates of thick cut pork chops, fresh corn, and mashed potatoes with rivulets of rich gravy dripping down the sides. Chilled glasses of lemonade accompanied the meal. John, finding he was hungrier than he’d realized, ate in silence, savoring the first home cooking he’d enjoyed in years.

  A commotion at the dining room caused John to look up in time to see a young man with raven black hair clatter into the dining room. He was tall and thin with fine-boned, pale features. Brilliant blue eyes above sharp cheekbones stood out against his porcelain skin. His black curls were slightly too long and flopped over his forehead. He wore a black double-breasted frockcoat that flared slightly at his waist and fell to mid-thigh. Beneath that, a deep blue waistcoat, and a white shirt with a small, ruffled cravat. His trousers were black, as well, and fitted, and he wore slim, black lace-up boots. His long-fingered hands waved manically in the air as he stormed into the dining room in a flurry of words.

  “I know, I know. I’m late! You’ll never guess what species of bird I saw at the pond, Mikael. I—” The young man stopped when he noticed John, his eyes growing side and his mouth snapping shut.

  “I believe I told you our new sheriff was dining with us tonight, Ian?” Mikael asked, his eyebrow arched and his face disapproving.”

  “I-I do apologize.” The young man - Ian - bowed his head to John. “Had I known we had company, I wouldn’t have burst in so suddenly.”

  “Quite all right.” John dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “I’m Captain John Jameson. Or rather, I suppose I’m now Sheriff John Jameson.”

  “This is my brother, Ian.” Mikael inserted. “He’s the schoolteacher at our little schoolhouse, aren’t you, Ian?”

  Ian nodded mutely and sat down in a chair across from John. A dinner plate was soon placed in front of him and he began to eat quietly.

  “You like to watch birds?” John asked, curiously.

  Ian, barely able to meet his face, nodded and muttered into his plate. “I like all manner of wildlife. I study it in my spare time.”

  “My brother fancies himself a naturalist, John. Waste of time if you ask me.” Mikael grumbled.

  “I saw a Cormorant on my way here.” John said, trying to make eye contact with Mikael’s brother. “It was floating on one of the lakes we passed. I’m not used to seeing so much wildlife.”

  “Oh, you’ll see a lot more than that!” Ian eagerly launched into a description of the various flora and fauna he’d cataloged around the area, his words jumbling together in his excitement.

  “That’s quite enough, Ian!” Mikael snapped. “You’re putting me off my dinner.”

  “Of course.” Ian returned to staring at his plate and pushing his food around. “Apo
logies, Sheriff Jameson.”

  “Not at all, I find that sort of thing interesting.” John said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the young man.

  Dinner was finished in relative silence. The sun outside dipped low in the horizon and soon John scooted his chair back.

  “I should probably get back before dark.” He said. “Mayor Lofte, Ian, it was a pleasure dining with you. I thank you kindly for the hospitality.”

  “Not at all, not at all.” Boomed Mikael in a jolly voice. “As I said before, you’re welcome here at any time. Ian, would you mind showing Sheriff Jameson out? I’d like to retire to my study to finish some paperwork.”

  Ian nodded and rose. “This way, Sheriff Jameson.”

  John followed Ian out the front door of the ranch house, where the Blue Roan waited. John watched Ian closely and noted his face fall at the sight of the mare.

  “Oh.” Ian said flatly. “You’re taking her.”

  “Is that all right?” John asked curiously.

  Ian turned his head away, swallowing audibly. “If my brother gave her to you, then he means for you to have her.”

  “I can choose another horse, if this one is yours.”

  “She’s not mine.” Ian stared at his hands and spoke softly. “I don’t ride.”

  “Your brother said you named her. Azure?”

  “Yes, that’s her name. I like to visit with the horses sometimes.”

  “Ian.” John stepped closer and ducked low to try to meet Ian’s eyes. “Are you sure it’s all right if I take her?”

  Ian chewed on his lip indecisively. “Will you care for her?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll treat her as well as I treat myself. And you’re welcome to come visit her if you’d like. My cabin’s just up the road.”

  Ian’s head came up at the offer and he met John’s gaze. The air between them snapped and fizzled with electricity and John found himself short of breath and he was lost in the stare.

  “Really?” Ian asked quietly. “Why would you do that?”