Sheriff Reagan's Christmas Boots

by Lynnette Bonner

  Kin swallowed. He stared down at the apples for a moment. He felt a bit like he’d just walked onto the stage in the middle of a theatrical drama and it was his job to instigate the resolution. He cleared his throat. Rubbed his jaw.

  The sheriff frowned at him. “Was Charlotte in the boardinghouse kitchen just now?”

  “Yes. Are these your apples?” More precisely, Mrs. Callahan’s apples. The ones she planned to use to make pies so she could buy the sheriff a pair of boots.

  The sheriff leaned a little closer and sniffed. “You been drinking again, kid?”

  “No, sir.”

  The sheriff plunked his hands on his hips. “Of course these are my apples. I wouldn’t be trying to sell them, if they weren’t.”

  Kin worked his tongue over his lips. “What I mean to ask is...are these all the apples you have?”

  The sheriff waved a hand. “Yes. But don’t worry. This will be more than enough to buy her the bolt of lace she’s been eyeing. So do you think she’ll be busy for awhile?”

  Heart falling, Kin glanced back toward the street. How did he fix this?

  The sheriff stepped closer. “You are acting mighty strange. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. Fine. I was just— I’ll buy the apples from you! What price did Mr. Hine’s offer?”

  The sheriff frowned. “He’s offered me five dollars per basket.”

  Kin swallowed. Ten dollars! And he’d have to beat Mr. Hines’ price to boot. But he didn’t really have much he needed money for. And—he could hear the tinny piano in McGinty’s plunking out “Clapham Town End”—it would likely save him from drinking the money away, anyhow. Besides his friendship with Wash, Mrs. Callahan had been one of the first bright spots in his entire life. She’d always encouraged him to do better, but never with the condescension that some had directed his way. And the sheriff was a kind man, even if he did enforce the law with exacting measure. Kin dipped his chin, decision made. “I’ll pay you six dollars per bushel.”

  The sheriff blinked at him. “Why do you need this many apples?”

  Kin shrugged. “It’s Christmas.” He grinned, hoping the sheriff would let the matter drop with that. He felt a sudden joy in what he was about to do.

  The sheriff scratched his jaw. “Well, I guess I didn’t promise Jerry I’d do it. We only discussed what his price would be and I said I’d think on it.” He stretched out a hand. “So you have yourself a deal.”

  Kin shook his hand and paid him, then watched as the sheriff, new-found cash in hand, carefully glanced both ways before dashing across the street to the mercantile.

  Kin transferred his attention to the two bushels of apples stacked at his feet. He gave a little shake of his head, hefted them, and hurried toward the Callahan place. He needed to get these back into the Callahan’s cellar before Mrs. Callahan got back to her place.

  Chapter 6

  “Yes, Miss Kastain!” the children chorused as Charlotte stepped through the back door of the church which functioned as Wyldhaven’s schoolhouse during the week. Surprised to hear the children addressing Zoe, Charlotte poked her head around the partition that separated the classroom from the back doors as she tugged off her gloves.

  Zoe stood at the blackboard, instructing the children in long division.

  Charlotte frowned. She searched the room, but didn’t see Mr. Haversham, the town’s teacher. Where was he?

  Noticing her, Zoe hesitated, which drew the attention of all the children to the back of the room.

  “Mrs. Callahan!” Several of the older ones leapt to their feet and rushed to envelope her with boisterous hugs. Even though it had been months now since she’d last been their teacher, it felt good to know that some of them still remembered her with fondness.

  Charlotte chuckled and coddled each of them for a moment, but then urged them all back to their seats.

  She met Zoe’s gaze. “Where’s Mr. Haversham?”

  Swiping at chalk dust on her fingers, Zoe couldn’t seem to meet her gaze. “He, uh...”

  “Mr. Haversham rarely makes an appearance before morning break.” Grant, the youngest Nolan brother, piped up from the back of the classroom where his long legs were crammed beneath the too-small-for-him desk. He gave a definitive nod. “Zo—er Miss Kastain—does most of the teaching.”

  Charlotte felt her heart began to thump against her breastbone. The town-council wasn’t paying the man to lay home abed while someone else did his work for him!

  Zoe lifted a hand to ward off further questions. “It’s not as bad as it might first seem. What brings you by today?” Zoe gave a pointed look toward all the children sitting enraptured at their desks.

  Charlotte let her gaze drift over the students. She supposed Zoe was correct that this wasn’t the time or place to have a discussion about Mr. Haversham’s downfalls. “When you have a moment may I speak to you outside?”

  “Certainly.” Zoe nodded. “Class copy down your work and then focus quietly on your problems. I’ll be back in just a moment.” She tipped a nod toward the door.

  Pulse pounding faster than ever in her ears, Charlotte went out and waited for her on the small landing. The moment Zoe made her appearance Charlotte stepped toward her. “How long has he had you teaching for him?”

  Zoe sighed. She folded her hands and seemed to contemplate her answer. “I don’t want to get him into trouble.”

  Charlotte’s lips pinched. “You won’t be getting him into trouble. You’ll only be telling me the truth.”

  With the toe of one boot, Zoe scuffed at the porch boards. “Since the beginning of the school year I have been teaching all the morning classes.”

  Charlotte’s teeth slammed together. “And?”

  “He arrives at break time, checks to make sure all is going well, and then goes over to McGinty’s till lunch.”

  “And Ewan hasn’t said anything to anyone?!”

  Still studying the boards at her feet, Zoe mumbled, “I asked him not to mention it. Just like I’ll ask you not to mention it to anyone. I enjoy being able to help the kids and don’t want to lose that.”

  “Oh, you won’t lose it. I’ll see to that. But I’ll not stand by and let you do all the work and him collect all the money! And that’s certain!”

  Zoe’s eyes widened a little. She held her silence.

  Charlotte realized that she’d let her frustration boil over into her tone. She took a calming breath. “Sorry. It just makes me madder than a hungry bear fresh out of hibernation to learn he’s been using you so.”

  “I wouldn’t call it using.” Zoe kicked at a knot in one of the boards.

  “Well, it is. And as soon as you have your teaching certificate, I intend to let the board know I think you should have the job you’ve been doing all these months anyhow.”

  Zoe’s eyes brightened. “You could do that? Oh, that would be such a relief to Ma and the family!”

  “I can and I will. I was so excited to hear that you were taking the teacher’s exam!”

  “I’ve been studying like crazy!” Zoe pulled a face. “But I’m still so nervous!”

  With a wave of her hand, Charlotte dashed away the concern. “As smart as you are? I know you’ll have no problem passing the test.”

  Zoe rubbed her hands together. “I hope so. Is that what brought you by today?”

  Charlotte chuckled. “I heard that you are doing a project where you trace everyone’s feet?”

  Zoe’s frown said she couldn’t figure out why that would have brought Charlotte by. “Yes.”

  Charlotte explained her dilemma and Kin’s idea for the solution.

  Zoe chuckled. “That’s brilliant! Yes. I can ask the sheriff to get his feet measured. In fact, I should ask all the Wyldhaven citizens! And maybe we can have everyone into the classroom to view the display and combine it with a Christmas party fundraiser for some larger desks for the bigger boys. Though it does give me a chuckle to see Lincoln and Grant sitting there with their knees up by their ears.”
She winked.

  “That’s a fabulous idea! I’m sure you could use some funds to buy more books too.”

  “That’s certain.” Zoe grimaced. “David Hines came to school the other day and his arithmetic primer was completely torn in half and missing several pages. He said he’d accidentally dripped some butter on it and then had to rescue it from his dog.”

  Charlotte chuckled and squeezed Zoe’s arm. “Reminds me of Jinx!”

  Zoe nodded and rolled her eyes. “For a taste of butter, Jinx would eat Satan’s socks. Anyhow, I’ll go right down to the sheriff’s office as soon as school’s out for the day and get that measurement for you.”

  Charlotte thanked Zoe for her help and left with the promise to check back the next day to retrieve the drawing.

  Chapter 7

  Charlotte was still chuckling as she made her way toward home. But the longer she walked, and the more she thought about what Mr. Haversham was doing, the angrier she became until her dander was all a ruffle.

  By the time she reached the base of the hill, beyond which lay her house, outrage pumped through her. She hefted a double handful of skirts and stomped toward home. Of all the sneaking things to do! Well as soon as Zoe had her teaching certificate the school board would be hearing from Charlotte on the need for his replacement!

  For now, Charlotte’s immediate problem was taken care of. And maybe it was providence that had sent her to Zoe for part of her solution so that she could learn just exactly what Mr. Haversham was up to.

  Charlotte crested the hill and paused to lean against a tree and catch her breath. She’d taken that steep road much too quickly! Hand propped against a trunk, she looked down on the little cabin she and Reagan had purchased from Mr. Jonas’ son just after the old man had passed on.

  Smoke rose in a thin wisp from the chimney due to the banked fire she had left in the stove. And with the mountains beyond, it created a picturesque scene. The barn could be in better shape, but they had worked on one end of it to make it warm and snug for Reagan’s horse. Next year when they had enough money, they would finish the rest of it.

  Movement caught her eye and she stiffened. Who was that coming up out of the cellar behind the cabin? She leaned in and squinted. It was a man. He dropped the heavy, sodded lid back into place, dusted his hands, and looked around.

  Charlotte gasped and stepped to the side of the path behind a tree before he could see her. What had Kin Davis been doing in their cellar? She peered around the tree.

  Kin jogged across the field behind their place. He disappeared into the trees beyond.

  Heart heavy Charlotte took the road down to the house. With a sigh she realized that it was probably best she just go to the cellar and see what he might have taken.

  Of all the shenanigans Kin had pulled in his day, she never would have pegged him to steal from her, or Reagan for that matter. And she’d just watched Susan pay him a goodly sum for the fish he brought to Dixie’s diner! He shouldn’t be bad enough off that he needed to steal food.

  Charlotte hauled up the door to the cellar and descended, lighting the lamp at the bottom of the steps. She shone the light into every corner but nothing seemed to be amiss. She frowned. Not one jar was out of place. There were still six eggs in the basket of straw just as there had been this morning. The two bushels of apples were still stacked in the back corner.

  So what had Kin been doing down here?

  She returned to the house but her heart was heavy all day, for she knew that she needed to tell Reagan what she had seen. No matter that he hadn’t taken anything. He’d been trespassing, uninvited.

  She had a simple meal of beef stew and biscuits ready when Reagan walked in the door that evening. He hung his hat and coat on the pegs by the door and then stepped to the sink to pump water for washing. He gave her a nod and a smile. “Evening. Sorry I’m a little late. Zoe came by right as I was leaving with a hair-brained idea for a last-minute Christmas fundraiser.”

  “Did she get the tracing of your feet?”

  Reagan stilled and studied her. “How did you know about that?”

  Charlotte’s mouth went dry. Idiotic, Charlotte! She scrambled for an explanation with a wave of her hand. “I went to town earlier and stopped by the schoolhouse to chat with her for a bit. She mentioned it.”

  Reagan reached for the towel and set to drying his hands. “I see.”

  Charlotte spun away from him, blowing at a strand of hair in relief. She was such a terrible secret keeper.

  Reagan was quiet as he hung the towel back on its hook and Charlotte pulled the biscuits from the warming oven.

  They said a quick prayer and then settled into silence as they ate.

  After a moment Reagan lifted his gaze to hers. “You aren’t normally this quiet. Is everything okay?”

  She sighed, heart pinching. She really hated to tattle on Kin when he seemed to have done nothing wrong. Yet, he also had no business being in their cellar.

  “Charlie?” Reagan frowned at her.

  Charlotte waved a hand. “It’ll keep. Let’s eat while the food is hot. What did Washington Nolan want so early this morning?”

  Reagan spread butter on a biscuit. “Seems some bandits broke into his Pa’s barn and stole buckets full of milk. The cow was nearly dry come morning and the buckets were missing.”

  “Someone stole milk? How crazy! Do you have any leads?” Charlottes mind flashed to the image of Kin coming out of the cellar. Could he have had something to do with it? But at the Nolan place? Surely not! He and Wash had been the best of friends since they were both in short-pants. And yet… she’d thought Kin respected her and Reagan enough that he would never do anything like that to them, yet there he had been coming out of the cellar. She sipped her broth, reminding herself that she hadn’t been able to find anything out of place. She tried to convince herself that there could be a perfectly innocent explanation for his trespass, yet logic seemed to defy that option. She came to and realized that Reagan had been speaking and she’d missed most of what he'd said.

  After that, she tried to keep up her end of the conversation but as soon as he had finished his last bite of stew, Reagan pushed his bowl away and tossed his serviette down on the table. “Come on, Charlie. Something is wrong. You’ve not been yourself all evening.”

  Charlotte curled her hands around her mug of hot apple cider and released a breath. She supposed the time had come. “I went into town this morning, as I already mentioned. And when I came back, I saw someone coming out of the cellar.”

  “What?” Reagan stood and reached for his hat, obviously intent on going out to check on it immediately.

  “You needn’t bother going out. I’ve already been down to look and nothing is amiss. But…” She hesitated. Did she tell him she knew it was Kin? What would happen to the boy? She clenched her teeth. In truth, Kin Davis was no longer a boy, but a full-grown man. One who should know better than to go skulking through others’ cellars!

  “But what?” Reagan urged.

  Charlotte gave in. “I saw who it was.”

  Reagan searched her face, brows arching.

  “It was Kin Davis.”

  Reagan’s expression changed subtly. He returned his hat to the peg, and then sank back down at the table, fingers drumming. He frowned at Charlotte. “Nothing was missing?”

  She shook her head. “Not a thing.”

  Reagan rubbed one hand across his jaw. “Maybe…he took…a few things that you didn’t notice? Like…apples?” He lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No. I was just down there this morning before heading into town. Everything is exactly as I left it. The two bushels of apples are stacked right in the corner where they were this morning.”

  Reagan sputtered coffee and quickly swiped at it, snatching up his serviette to wipe his mouth.

  Charlotte frowned at him. He must have inhaled wrong trying to talk and drink hot liquids at the same time. “You all right?”

  He no
dded. Batted away her concern.

  She let it go. “Anyhow, like I said…nothing seemed disturbed. I have no idea what he was doing down there.”

  “Well, I’ll swing by and talk to him about it first thing in the morning. For now, let me help you with these dishes.” He rose and took his plate and utensils, and the biscuit plate, leaving Charlotte to follow in his wake to the kitchen.

  She frowned as she gathered the rest of the items. She tossed a glance toward where he was already pumping water into the sink. It was almost like he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  But why would that be?

  Chapter 8

  The banging on the parsonage door the next morning sent a nail straight through Kin’s temple. He groaned and rolled over, tugging his pillow over his head. Blast but his skull felt like a blacksmith had taken a hammer to it in the night. Maybe melted it down and tempered it a few times too.

  He shouldn’t have given Ewan that last dollar for that bottle of rot-gut.

  Had the parson heard him come through his window in the night?

  Whoever was at the door banged again.

  “Coming. Coming.” The parson’s voice drifted through his door.

  Kin pried one eyelid open.

  And frowned.

  Tommy sat on his bed across the room, palms pressed together and tucked between his knees as he rocked forward and back. He stared at Kin. “Y-You broke the chair.”

  The chair that he used to make late-night entry easier, lay in several pieces beneath his window. Kin sighed. Tommy was right. He must have broken it somehow when he came in last night.

  “P-parson is m-mad.” Tommy’s rocking increased.

  Which meant the parson had definitely heard him come home.