“Lucas!" called the district chief, catching up to the lawman as Lucas attempted to head home for the night. "I've got a new assignment for you. Seems there's a big problem with a trade town out west, and you’re the only one I trust to handle it. Can you take the case?"
The tall blond frowned slowly, listening to the chief. "A town out west? Wouldn't someone else be better suited?"
But the chief shook his head, holding out the file. "Nah, Devil's Backbone is right up your alley. This place's overrun with bandits and outlaws. I hear their leader's a real piece of work. There's also talk of some odd happenings."
Lucas sighed, finally taking the file. "Chief, I really don't think I can take this job. Isabelle and I are supposed to be married next month-"
"With how quick you sorted out Jacksonville, you should be back in time for the wedding without a problem," the chief countered, giving Lucas a look he knew he couldn't say no to. Then the chief leaned in and continued, "Look, I'd ask Bart to go, but he didn't handle Quinton the way he should've and now I've got a mess of paperwork to deal with. You're the only one I can ask to take care of this."
Another sigh left the blond as he flipped through the file. It looked simple, cut and dry, but he had to admit the town had a problem. The gang—Angband Gang—had over fifty members. The trade town's militia had either died, run, or joined the crew. No one remained to put a stop to their brutality.
And apparently, he wasn't the first to be sent in. About two months ago, some sheriff from another town got a posse together and tried to run the bandits out. The gruesome results revealed the sheriff nailed to a cliff and left for the birds.
A frown of disgust flitted over his sharp features. "How many are you sending with me? Even I can't take care of fifty outlaws."
The chief grinned, knowing he'd won. "I got a team of twenty together. They'll meet you at the station tomorrow morning at 7 sharp." As the chief strode back down the hall, whistling all the way, Lucas could only shake his head.
"What am I going to say to Isabelle?"
Nothing he said stemmed the tide of Isabell's fury. Her beautiful face twisted with anger, she'd slammed the door in his face and left him standing on her family home's stoop. He'd trudged back to his own home under the bright streetlamps, his shoes clopping on the wet cobblestone. After packing the necessities, he'd turned in for the night—but sleep escaped him.
—
Standing on the platform at the station with his arms crossed and his suitcase beside him, Lucas gave off an air of murder. Isabelle had every right to be furious, certainly, but saying he didn't care about her was a step too far. Lucas didn't mind being called a workaholic, he could live with that, and he understood where she was coming from. But not care about her? He wouldn't be marrying her if he didn't care about her.
Lucas had come to care for her, putting aside the lengths his parents had gone to arrange their meeting. His parents wanted the excellent match with an old, aristocratic family. Isabelle hailed from one of the families who still held ties with an old Fae house, an ancient and wealthy house. However, the Greenwoods were more than aristocrats; they had distant ties to the monarch. Lucas's parents would kill him if he let Isabelle slip through his fingers.
But even if Isabelle was right and Lucas was a workaholic, there remained no valid reason to turn down this assignment.
And Lucas had to admit, something felt off, missing from their relationship. He couldn't put words to his misgivings, so he remained silent. Remained distant.
Not for the first time that morning, Lucas sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, wondering if he was making the right decision.
Just then, several other men started to arrive with heavy travel cases, joking with each other. When they caught sight of Lucas, their laughter faded, and they looked away.
So, they're going to be that way about this, hmm? That's fine. I prefer to work alone. He didn't acknowledge their presence, staring straight ahead.
The station manager came over then, informing the group that the train would be arriving in five minutes.
Right on time, the steam engine thundered into the busy station. The lawman and his team of now-silent men entered their private car, stowing their weapon cases and personal bags.
The others spread out in the car, joking again, shoving each other, some boasting about previous successes. A few even started gloating about women they were leaving behind. Lucas found a seat by the window, seeing his bright blue eyes reflecting the early morning light, and shifted his thoughts internally.
Lucas tuned it all out. He wasn't interested in such trivial gossip. He didn't want to be a part of a team, but it was necessary for such a big assignment.
—
With a jolt, he banged his head on the window and woke, bleary-eyed. At some point, he must have fallen asleep. Glancing about, he noted the early dawn light—they'd been traveling all night, it seemed—and Lucas wondered what had woken him. Then he realized the car was silent.
Blinking in the early morning light, Lucas glanced around. Startled, he stood quickly—no one was in the car. They couldn't have gotten to the town already; it was three days by train. Had the men gotten off somewhere and not told him? No, they wouldn't have; he was in charge of them for this mission. But looking around, he noted all their things were still stowed in the car. Maybe they'd just gone to stretch their legs?
Then he heard a chuckle from the back of the car. Turning, Lucas's eyes fell upon a strange man leaning a broad shoulder against the doorframe in the rear of the train. A smirk curled the stranger's lips, long black hair framed his angular face, and sinister black eyes stared straight at Lucas. A hint of pointed ears peeked through the cascades of black strands.
Frowning, Lucas reassured himself with a subtle check for his guns. Both still sat in his shoulder holsters, right under his arms. Good.
"Who are you? This is a private car," the lawman said, his eyes narrowing.
"Was just enjoying the view, that's all," the dark-haired man replied. His voice—strange enough—was deep, silken, with something malicious just beneath the surface.
Lucas didn't trust him.
"You aren't allowed in here. Leave, before I charge you for trespassing."
The stranger grinned and laughed. He moved closer, his eyes never leaving Lucas's face. Lucas reached for his gun, taking his eyes off the stranger. As he pulled his gun from the holster, firm but gentle fingers encircled his wrist, keeping the gun pointed down.
"None of that now…" came the man's smooth voice, low and breathy against his ear. "Just want a friendly talk-"
The train jolted then, and Lucas woke, his head hurting from crashing into the window. A laugh came from his right, and Lucas turned slowly, his frown deep. One of the men gave him a sheepish grin.
"Sorry, boss, couldn't help it," the man grinned. He held a book in his hands, his feet propped up on the seat in front of them. "We've still got a ways to go, so you should get as much sleep as you can."
It was a dream... Taking a slow breath to calm his racing heart and heated cheeks, Lucas turned back to the window, watching the sun slip slowly towards the horizon. Just as the sun crested the tops of the distant mountains, a few of the men started to hand out food. Lucas accepted the meal with a thanks before eating in silence, his thoughts again turning inward.
He had to think of a way to keep these men alive while also capturing the bandit's leader—and after working alone for so long, he wasn't sure that he could.
Checking over the file one more time, Lucas did his best not to worry too much. He was confident he had a good plan. Finally, on the last day on the train, he'd managed to get the group of men to agree to the plan of action.
But this sheriff... he had fourteen men with him. He couldn't help but think that twenty still wasn't enough.
READ THE FULL VERSION ON GUMROAD. Link in the Author's Note.
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