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    My Law Man
    My Law Man
    My Law Man
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    My Law Man

    By DeeDee Lane

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Phebe Brooks is single, cynical—okay bitter—and fighting to stay out of jail by doing community service at the Cowboy and Western Museum. While cleaning a jail cell in the “Lawmen of the West” exhibit, Phebe slips back in time and into the arms of a man who resembles her first love, Rafe Morrow. Newly hired as Eagle Rock's sheriff, Rafe, a former sharpshooter in the Union Army, came west to start anew. This seems possible until his town is overtaken by a sassy female constantly complaining about wearing a dress and then a band of outlaws set on robbing the gold from an incoming stagecoach. Can Phebe and Rafe cooperate long enough to save the town? For Phebe, it's worth the risk. She's determined to let go of past mistakes, get herself on the right side of the law, and have a future filled with love and passion.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThe Wild Rose Press
    Release dateJul 8, 2016
    ISBN9781509208388
    My Law Man

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      Book preview

      My Law Man - DeeDee Lane

      Inc.

      Ever since Phebe stopped screaming

      and stuffed her mouth with bread, he’d been telling her she was in Eagle Rock in 1866. From third grade on, she’d known Eagle Rock was the original name for Idaho Falls and was established in 1865. Through a maze of panic sedated by warm carbohydrates covered in butter, she demanded the sheriff take her to the bridge, the place to cross Snake River. In 1866 it would be the old-fashioned bridge like the tintype pictures she’d seen at the museum.

      Phebe was so absorbed in her inner history lesson she smacked straight into the sheriff’s chest. Damn, he had some muscles. Phebe examined his chest and arms. About six foot two or thereabouts, the man was rangy with a thin build and muscles everywhere. His arms continued to hold her as she flailed around while still clutching the woolen shawl around her shoulders and her bunched up skirts. What she wouldn’t give right now for a puffy parka with a hood, and mittens, and boots, and pants, for goodness sake, pants would be better than all this flipping fabric.

      He pointed dead ahead. Here’s where Harry Rickets used to ferry folks across the river. He gestured further west. And there’s Taylor’s Crossing, the bridge built by Matt Taylor in 1865.

      Phebe gasped. Matt Taylor, as in James Madison Taylor? The bridge was identical to the yellowed pictures she’d seen hanging on the museum walls.

      We don’t use fancy names in these parts, but I think you’ve got it right.

      And the year is 1866?

      Lady, I’m starting to get a mite cross. He took off his hat and swiped his brow.

      My Law Man

      by

      DeeDee Lane

      Slip in Time Series

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

      My Law Man

      COPYRIGHT © 2016 by DeeDee Lane

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

      Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

      Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

      The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

      PO Box 708

      Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

      Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

      Publishing History

      First Cactus Rose Edition, 2016

      Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0838-8

      Slip in Time Series

      Published in the United States of America

      Dedication

      Dedicated to Tuesdays—my favorite day of the week

      when I was a child because

      Tuesday was the day the Bookmobile came!

      Chapter One

      Phebe Brooks stared through the bars of the jail cell at one of the worst mistakes of her life.

      Shoulda known I’d find you behind bars. Tate’s face contorted further into a nasty grin. You always were sexy in handcuffs.

      How in the hell had she ever loved this man? Why’d he even have to come here all clean and condescending, blond and blue-eyed, like he’d stepped onto a country club golf course? Phebe forced two deep breaths through her trembling body, so she wouldn’t let loose with a string of swear words long enough to make the air turn blue.

      Before answering the slimy, jerky, two-timing butthole, she concentrated on the here and now, part of her anger management course mantra. First step, focus on something…the bars of the jail. Wooden splinters poked her fingers, jagged little spikes on the wagon wheels. After rolling down the Montana Trail, the wheels were repurposed, riveted together to make bars. Finally, the whole cell had been moved to the Cowboy and Western Museum as an interactive exhibit.

      Second step, inhale through her nose, and exhale through her mouth; at last she could speak instead of curse.

      What are you doing here, Tate? According to the order of protection you demanded, we can’t have any contact.

      Tate ignored her and roamed the exhibits, touching all kinds of things he wasn’t supposed to touch. You fit right in with this place, Phebe—old, used up, and filled with signs saying ‘don’t touch.’ 

      Phebe couldn’t help remembering a time when Tate’s words had made her feel like the most special girl in the world. The problem was she’d been sixteen and basically raising herself, so Tate became the center of her world. When Tate’s words became harsh and judgmental, she’d convinced herself love could conquer all and hung in there with him for six long years.

      Time to wait him out. Tate would tire of the exhibits soon enough and tell her why he’d dropped by so unexpectedly. Phebe leaned against the edge of the jail cell, part of the Lawmen of the Old West exhibit in the Cowboy and Western Museum. Over the past three months, she had been doing court mandated community service for the museum. After The Incident, the judge gave her a choice, five hundred hours for the museum or six months picking up trash along Interstate 15. Since it was one of the snowiest Januarys Idaho Falls had ever seen…easy choice.

      At first her court mandated visits to the museum had been like visiting her Aunt Elma—boring, predictable, and they plain made her feel stupid. But over time she couldn’t help reading the exhibit cards, listening to the audio tour, and even learning a thing or two about life in the old West. The museum wasn’t like school where she had to sit still and memorize, but like life where she experienced living right alongside people in another time period. Take this jail cell. She imagined a gun-toting criminal locked away until the judge rode in, or his outlaw gang staged a breakout.

      The Jersey Lilly. Tate read a museum placard and toyed with a judge’s gavel nearby. Must be a whorehouse.

      That gavel belonged to Judge Roy Bean. Now put it down and tell me why you’re here. Phebe clamped her lips together. Tate could twist anything she said and make it go against her…and she did not want to end up in a real jail cell. I need to finish cleaning this exhibit.

      The lawman’s exhibit was part of a walkthrough wing in the museum and one of Phebe’s favorites, called Our Town: Eagle Rock. Visitors could walk along wood-planked

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