Wedding Guests - Val and The Widow

“Well, lookie what’s comin’. I do believe I got competition at bein’ the best dressed gent attendin’ this matrimonial swav-vaaaay.”

An eyebrow arched at the mispronunciation. “I think you mean soirée, little brother.” Scott’s focus fell on the man inspiring Johnny’s attempt to broaden his vocabulary horizon: Sheriff Val Crawford. 

Val Crawford and Kinsey Furlong had locked horns from the moment they met. Grant it, their relationship got off to a rocky start when Crawford was called upon during Kinsey’s less-than-stellar interaction with Green River’s mayor… which led to her administering a kick to the sheriff’s shin… which led to her bustle getting bounced into a jail cell… which led to establishing Scott’s role of playing referee between the two. 

It took sitting in Val’s office on the day Green River’s sheriff learned of the attack on the little cousin in Melbourne for Scott to realize Crawford actually had a fondness in his heart for Miss Furlong. A wedding invitation retrieved from Val’s desk drawer confirmed that feelings were mutual, thus ending an older cousin’s position of mediator.

“Let’s say we go ‘n give a howdy.” Johnny’s skewed grin spoke of more than just a howdy.

“Let’s say we go ‘n toe the mark.” Scott knew his big brother directive would be ignored due to the fact the person currently gracing Val’s arm was the Widow Patterson. 

Bedelia Patterson received her handle of widow two years before Scott and Johnny discovered their connection as Murdoch Lancer’s sons. However, considering small town scuttlebutt travels about with the fluidity of a gossiping tongue, the boys soon heard of the fateful night Phineas Patterson stepped in front of the eleven-o-five train, abruptly ending his career as husband and consumer of hard liquor.

After an adequate period of mourning, Bedelia joined Green River’s workforce and reentered social circles. Her ability to bake the best damn apple pie west of the Mississippi provided the widow financial stability through sales at the hotel restaurant and the town’s boarding house. Whereas her charitable benevolence encouraged Bedelia’s community volunteering, her fine looks eased the widow back into the cordial entertaining of suitors. 

And who graduated to the front in that column of courters? Truth be told, and much to Scott and Johnny’s surprise along with the citizens of Green River, it was none other than Sheriff Val Crawford.

“Johnny.” Scott served up his brother’s name with a generous helping of side-eye. “If you refer to Val as pretty, I will not stop the man from shooting you.”

“Never entered my mind, Scott.”

Right. In one ear and out the other. Smile. “Sheriff Crawford. Mrs. Patterson. Welcome.” Executing a slight bow, Scott swore he detected the subtle scent of apples and cinnamon. “It’s a pleasure to see you both.”

“My-o-my, look at these two handsome young men standing before us, Sheriff.” 

“Ah, now, ma’am. I’m thinkin’ you’re standin’ next to the most handsomest fella here today.” Johnny zeroed in. “Why, Val, you look positively… regal.”

The game’s afoot. Scott slowly exhaled. 

“Regal.” Pause. “Uh-huh.” Crawford sized-up the complimenter. “Can’t say that word has ever landed so close to my name.”

“Glad I had the honor of being the first t’do so.” A palm placed over a heart established current campy candor knew no bounds.

“When Val… I mean… ” The Apple Pie Goddess blushed. ”Sherriff Crawford came calling without sporting his badge and pistol I thought to myself -  why Bedelia Patterson, who do we have here?”

Minus his six-pointed star of authority and sidearm Crawford did remind Scott of a child’s wooden map puzzle missing a piece. However, good guessing placed the badge being tucked away in Val’s vest pocket along with a matchstick or two. As for Crawford’s peacemaker, chances were a Deringer discreetly resided somewhere on the man to be reached for if necessary.

“Bet you’re feelin’ downright naked as a jay bird.” Lancer’s self-appointed punster leaned in to clarify. “Figure a speech there, Val.”

“Uh-huh. Guess it could be put that way.” Eyes narrowed. “Although it wouldn’t be my first choice as a wise description.”

Jay birds? Scott glanced skyward. Hell, no, Johnny. Those are buzzards circling. “May I suggest, Mrs. Patterson, sampling the hors d’oeuvres being offered before the ceremony begins.”

“Oh, thank you. I can only speak for myself but Sheriff Crawford and I shared a slice of apple pie early this morning which has kept me feeling quite satisfied."

“Nothin’ gets a day rollin’ better than a hearty piece a pie.” Johnny rubbed his hands together. “How ‘bout it, Val? You feelin’ satisfied?”

“Well… ” Green River’s constable cocked his head. “Way I see it, John, satisfaction comes along in many a manner, nourishment being one of them. Now you have some men say reparation to the deserving delivers the finest dose of satisfaction. I might have to agree with those fellas.” 

“Are we talkin’ about just desserts here, Val?”

The hangman’s leaden steps drew closer. Clearing his throat, Scott loosened the noose Johnny’s carriwitchets were creating. “Refreshments perhaps?”

“Why, now that you mention it, I have gotten rather bothered with the sudden rise in temperature.” The widow squeezed her escort's arm. “Although, I’m certain Sheriff Crawford would vote for something a bit more indulging.”

Hot? Bothered? Indulging? Without warning, sweet, kind, Pastry-Baking Patterson pulled the trap door lever on Scott’s imaginary gallows, resulting in a strangled guffaw. “Well, ma’am, it is a fact - a cup of punch won’t be remedying this situation any time soon.”

“Oh look boys, there’s your father… and Sam! How delightful!” The widow beamed.

“Go on over and say hello, Bedelia.” The softer side of Sheriff Crawford patted the apple of his eye’s hand. “I’ll be joining shortly. Got some important business to discuss with these gents here before the festivities commence.”

“My-o-my.” The widow’s finger wagged in a playful scolding. “You can remove the badge from the sheriff but not the sheriff from the badge. Don’t keep these young men too long from this day of celebration.”

Val’s congenial smile headed south with Bedelia’s departure. “Gentlemen, if I’m not mistaken, the strong stench of disrespect is in the air.”

“That’s Johnny’s cologne.” Scott grinned. “Stand upwind.”

“Uh-huh.” As predicted, a pocketed matchstick appeared and took its customary corner-of-the-mouth residence. “Well, some of it got splashed on his older brother. Maybe we need to get you boys’ pappy over here with a cake of soap.”

“Aw now, Vaaaaal.” Johnny’s drawl reflected the innocence of morning dew. “We were just havin’ a little fun pokin’ the bee’s nest.”

“Uh-huh.” The fire splinter danced across Crawford’s lips. “My boot toe’s about t’sting you in the ass.”

Thespian Lancer took a stab at mending fences. “Shakespeare once said - there is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.” 

Silence. 

“All right.” Scott studied his humorless audience of one. “How about - Something is rotten in the state of Denmark?” Silence. “Look, Val, we didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Well, let’s see if you two can redeem yourselves. Got a telegram from Constable Britches in Melbourne, the one mentioned in that newspaper clipping.” 

“You mean Constable Birch.”

“Uh-huh. Now which one of us isn’t appreciating a man’s wit?” 

Scott’s chin dipped with a grin. “Well played, sir. Please continue.”

“Seems like there was a bounty on our snot-nosed dingo friends, Yarra and Mannheim, to the tune of four hundred dollars.”

Johnny’s low whistle tipped his hand of being impressed.

“Uh-huh. Thought that might get your attention. And since you two are responsible for their rounding up- ”

Scott raised his palm “Hold up. You were a big part of that capture, I think the money- ”

“Quit thinking and just listen. Rumor has it Murdoch Lancer told his oldest to let Sheriff Crawford do his job and, I’m pleased to say, that’s what I did… my job… the one the good folks of Green River pay me to do. Now, which of us do you want to disagree with so you can continue your lecture on who deserves what? Me or your pappy? And the answer to that is neither.”

A slow nod concurred. Scott once told Kinsey her older cousin’s reprimands were a cut above the rest. It was time to step down. Val Crawford had just earned that honor.

“So, gentlemen, what do I tell Constable Birch regarding where to wire the money?”

“Johnny?” Scott’s gaze shifted to his brother. “You took the brunt of Yarra’s fists. Call it.”

“Yeah. Well… ” Johnny squinted up at the sky. “The way I see it, Half-pint had been dealt lousy cards long before that. Guess we know what she’d say.”

“Agreed. Val, do you know Leonard Sussman? The bank president?” As soon as the query tumbled out of Scott’s mouth, he knew another dress-down was in his future.

“Now what do you think?” Crawford’s matchstick became a pointer. “I’m the goddamn sheriff. Of course, I know Sussman, the bank president. I also know Henry, the bartender, Miss Fanny at the boarding house, Lenny down at the livery stables, the first names of all eight Hillard boys… ” Bedelia’s laughter danced across the courtyard and lassoed the men’s attention. “Sam Jenkins - Healer of the Sick… ” 

Scott secretly grinned. The doctor's name pausing Val’s rant didn’t go unnoticed. “Have the bounty money wired to Sussman for Sister Rosa. He’ll know what to do.” 

“Thought you gents might be leaning that way.” Crawford’s wide smile showed the silver incisor that matched his badge. “Consider yourselves redeemed. Well…” The matchstick returned to its vest pocket. “Best catch up to Bedelia.” A hail towards the widow signaled his intention. “People are flapping that I’m one fortunate fella. Can’t argue the point. She’s a good woman. Someday you boys will be fortunate fellas too.”

“Yeah..” Johnny rubbed his chin. “I best locate the McGuire sisters.”

“You brought along the twins?” The corners of their friend’s eyes crinkled to introduce the final jest. “That ain’t good fortune, son. That’s goddamn brave.”

Spotting Emily in conversation with Jane Stanford, Scott sent his own wave across the courtyard which was greeted with a delicate blown kiss.

Well Val, let me be the first to start some new flapping.

Grin.

Scott Lancer is one fortunate fella.