A Hard Ride Home by Emory Vargas

ma'am," he said, tipping his hat to her before braving the gauntlet of petticoats on the way to Jesse's room.
    Jesse didn't answer when he knocked quietly on the door. It was slightly ajar, just enough that Emmett didn't feel too guilty giving it a push and peering inside. The room looked exactly as it had before, cluttered but carefully so, the way riverbeds looked like God had painstakingly placed each smooth rock to make it just right.
    His boots made the floorboards creak and groan, but Jesse didn't stir where he lay on his back on the small bed, his fingers curled loosely in the blanket that twisted around his body.
    The room had a sharp, medicinal scent, but it didn't smell like illness or rot. Jesse didn't seem unwell save for the muddy-looking color of the skin that ringed his eyes and the two-day-old stubble that made him look older.
    "I'll come by another time," Emmett murmured, unable to bring himself to disturb a sleep that deep. He turned to leave and spotted a letter on Jesse's bedside table.
    Before good sense took over, he bent to pick it up, and scanned the childish, scrawled handwriting.
    Ma,
    I am well. I miss you and check the post for your letters with regularity. We will be departing on a cattle drive next month when the rains let up and the river pass opens. Mayor Grady says I can take Tiger. You remember I told you about him. He only listens to me so he isn't no good to anyone else when I'm gone off on the drive.
    Silver Creek is a quiet town yet. I come down once a week to buy provisions for the Mayor. General Store has real silk. I will send you a package. Yellow or red?
    We got papers from the city with advertisements for a real play. Have attached a clipping.
    "Sheriff," a voice said quietly from the doorway, startling him. He set down the letter hurriedly, nearly overturning a small amber bottle with a cork stopper.
    Emmett removed his hat and swallowed. "Miss Delia. I was—"
    "Snooping." She crossed her skinny arms.
    "I read," he nodded, walking up to her and keeping his voice low. "Why does he say all those things? He's no cowboy."
    "He rides! He'd run cattle or go on to the city. He'd leave if your daddy would let him."
    Emmett pushed the door shut and leaned over Delia, speaking slowly to keep his voice even and quiet. "What do you mean if he'd let him?"
    Delia glanced at the bed and back at Emmett, her eyes wet and afraid, but her jaw set stubbornly. "You really don't know nothing?"
    "Tell me what you mean."
    "Your daddy snatched him up when Willie's gang first moved into these parts. He makes him—"
    "That was years ago," Emmett said, grabbing her arm. "You mean to say—" He couldn't voice it. The arithmetic made his belly clench up. "He's been here all that time?"
    "The mayor fancies him the best. He keeps Jesse's ma in Fairhaven, safe from Willie long as Jesse stays sweet on him." Delia looked down, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He's a bad man, Sheriff. If Jesse don't mind him, he'll kill her, he will."
    "I know." Emmett let her go and leaned into the wall, his skin prickling up all over. This was different from the deception and treachery Evelyn had warned him about; a kind of bad he couldn't wrap his hands around. "What about you? And the other girls. Are you being held here against your will? Does Evelyn—"
    "It's not like that. Some girls got their reasons, or debt, or just got nowhere else to go. Miss Devaux treats us nice and don't let no one rough us up. 'Cept… well, the mayor and Jesse. He—"
    "That's enough," Emmett said, gut-sick. "I understand."
    "Will you help, Sheriff?" Delia asked, tears spilling down her face.
    "Yes, yes of course." Emmett drew a slow, careful breath. "Why is he sleeping like that? What's wrong with him?" He gestured at the bed, where Jesse hadn't stirred despite their hushed conversation.
    Delia wiped her face with both hands and sniffled. "Miss Elsie gave him a nip of laudanum in treacle."
    "For pain? Is he hurt?"
    "For nerves. Missus says