“I mean it, Joe.” There was a flash of irritation in her blue eyes. “Since you and Reagan don’t plan to ride out to the camp until tomorrow, go back to town. Tess and I will be fine now.” The tremor in her hands belied her words.
Joe felt like a steam engine about to explode. He reminded himself to gentle his voice. “You either have a death wish, or you have no idea what Hunt is capable of.”
She swept a strand of hair off her forehead with one wrist. “I assure you that I’m neither pining for my grave, nor naïve enough to take my eyes off of a snake like John Hunt. But he won’t even hear about his men’s arrests till morning. We’ll be fine.”
“Well that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. You don’t have to give me a blanket, but know that I’m not leaving.”
She blew out a breath, hands stilling in the dough. “Joseph Rodante, be reasonable! I’m only trying to protec—” All her attention plunked back to the dough, and her hands set to pummeling it again.
Everything in him stilled. “Wait a minute. You’re not worried about me are you? I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not worried about you being able to handle John Hunt. It’s just… Never mind. Just please, go back to town.” Defeat washed her tone.
He watched her butter the loaves and shape them into the loaf pans. And realization struck. It was his reputation she was concerned about. Hadn’t he just been pondering on the fact that she’d gone out of her way to guard his reputation on multiple occasions? This was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so stand-offish with her. If he had treated her like she deserved to be treated, she would know what a treasure she was in the eyes of God and maybe the townsfolk would have seen it too, by now. Sometimes people simply needed someone to lead the way.
He strode to where she rinsed her hands at the sink. She stiffened at his approach so instead of turning her to face him, as he’d intended, he only said, “Look at me, please?”
She searched his face quizzically, water dripping from her hands into the sink.
Taking up the towel, he thrust it toward her. “Tess? Can we have a moment?”
The girl complied without hesitation. “I’ll just get on to my room.”
Joe had been prepared to launch into a lecture, but now that he stood alone with her, words failed him. Mostly because he suddenly realized how much he wanted to declare his love for her.
Love? Hang it all. He was in love with the woman. When was that going to sink in and feel real?
Liora plunked her hands on her hips, one of them still gripping a towel. She tilted him a look. “Joe, you are acting all-fired strange today. What has gotten into you?”
“I told you I wanted to marry you. But what I didn’t say is that I’m in love with you.” The words blurted out before he could lasso them into submission.
Her eyes shot wide and she spun to face the sink. “No, Joe. No, you can’t—You don’t love me!” She set to working the pump handle for no apparent reason.
Joe’s hands trembled and he thrust them deep into his pockets. “Liora, you tell me you don’t have…” He ground to a stop. It would be too easy for her to lie undetected if she wasn’t facing him. “Look at me. Please?”
She angled a glance over one shoulder.
He would have preferred to take her face in his hands to ensure she couldn’t look away, but he wanted her to have her freedom. Holding her gaze with his own, he swallowed and started again. “You tell me you don’t have any feelings for me and I’ll not press the issue. But I’m begging you to be honest.”
White teeth clamped down on her lower lip. “Joe, of course I have feelings for you.”
His heart started an elated pounding, but caution held him in place.
“You’ve been a good friend since the moment we met. And it’s because of you that I came to know the Lord.”
She paused and he held his breath. Some of his elation seeped away. He sensed a “but” coming.
“But this thing between us can never work. I could never… I’m simply not…wife material. And for your own sake, I hope you will abandon this foolishness.”
Again, he was filled with a sense of discouragement over how he had failed her. She truly saw herself as unworthy. Unworthy of others’ respect. Unworthy of love.
There was nothing he could do about the past, but he intended to change the future. The problem was he knew it was going to be difficult to convince her that he spoke the truth when he said he loved her. He would just have to show her. Starting now.
“I know you don’t want me to stay here. And I know that’s because you worry about what the townsfolk will think, both of you and of me. But the truth is, not one of those folk would begrudge another woman protection if something like this happened to her. So I can’t see why things should be different with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. So you’ll pardon me for refusing your request that I go back to town tonight.”
Her eyes were as wide as a newborn calf’s, and he knew he needed to depart before he gave in to the urge to pull her into his arms and show her just how ardent his feelings for her were. He tipped her a nod and pushed out into the night.
Liora felt her jaw drop as Joe closed the door behind himself. That stubborn man! He was going to shatter his reputation and there obviously wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
As he clicked the door shut, the icy draft of his departure swept in around her ankles and it struck her how cold he would be on this autumn night, sleeping outdoors without cover.
She rushed across the room and flung open the door. “Joe, wait.”
Before he even turned, she sped toward the trunk beneath the parlor window and withdrew the two thick quilts she had set aside for future girls. She reached the kitchen door as Joe was stepping back onto the porch.
Holding the bulky quilts with one hand beneath and one atop, she thrust them toward him. If he was going to be stubborn enough to stay, at least he could be warm while he did it.
“Thank you.” He reached to take the bedding and his hands covered hers, top and bottom. He paused right there. His gaze drilled into hers and one corner of his mouth tipped up.
She snatched her hands back to her sides, doing her best to ignore the tremor that swept up her arms and seemed to squeeze the very air from her lungs. Oh how she wished she could appreciate it when a man looked at her thus. Yet naught but terrible memories accompanied such a look.
He cleared his throat softly and took a step back, but he didn’t release her gaze. “Wanted to ask if you’ll be busy tomorrow after work?”
Caution made her hesitate. Why would he want to know that? “No. Not really. I’d planned to stop by Mrs. Callahan’s before work and ask if she might have some darning to employ Tess with, so I might need to swing over and pick her up when I get done at Dixie’s, but other than that, I’d only planned to return here.”
He gave the barest hint of a nod. “Good. See you in the morning.” And with that, he slipped off the porch and disappeared into the darkness.
Liora shook her head and returned inside.
She had planned to spend the evening talking to Tess to see what sort of skills she might need to teach her, but the girl hadn’t come out of her room since Joe had asked for some time alone with her, and she supposed they’d had a trying enough day that the girl was probably already sound asleep. She would leave her be for now. Lord knew she was tired enough to fall straight into bed herself.
In fact, as soon as she banked the fire and swept up the kitchen, she might do just that. And hopefully she would be able to sleep and not worry about one stubborn man sleeping in the elements just so he could ensure her safety.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Reagan Callahan!”
At breakfast the next morning, Reagan sipped from his coffee and grinned at Charlotte over the rim of his cup. Hang it, but she was beautiful when she was riled. He wasn’t going to let a murder investigation or the nefarious deeds of any outlaw taint this mom
ent.
Still standing next to his ma’s table with her hands on her hips, she tilted him a look that, if he were smart, would have sobered him right up. But he was feeling courageous, perhaps even as brave as the prophet Daniel must have felt just before descending into the lions’ den, so he stood his ground. “I don’t see why we have to wait a whole long while. Your family could be out here from Boston by the end of the month, and…” He reached for her hand and tugged her closer, giving her a pump of his brows. “Now that we’ve made the decision, I find I’m rather looking forward to being an old married man.” He stood and settled his hands at her waist. “So? What say you?”
Her cheeks had turned a rosy pink. Her lower lip pooched out slightly and she tapped his chest with one finger. “You don’t play fair.”
He grinned. Had he actually won her over that easily? “So you agree to my suggested date, then?”
Still she hesitated and he could see her considering and checking things off on one of her perpetual mental lists.
He didn’t mind the wait. He could hardly believe his fortune to have a woman such as this agree to spend the rest of her days with him. How had he gotten so lucky?
Finally, she lifted her gaze to his. “All right. I’ll telegram Mother and Father to see if they can make it that soon.”
“They’ll make it.” Reagan settled more comfortably into his heels, pushing away the small niggle of concern over whether her parents would like him or not.
Charlotte looked pensive. “I can hardly believe that it’s been nearly two years since I saw them last.”
“I’m sure they’ve missed you just as much as you’ve missed them.”
“I’m certain you’re right. It’s only that I hate to have them come all this way and then have us head off on our wedding tour only a few days after they arrive.”
Reagan pondered. “We could delay our tour for a couple weeks? That would give us time to get settled into our place, and time to visit with them before we all go our separate ways again.”
Charlotte wrapped her arms around Reagan’s neck and leaned back to look up at him. “I think that’s why I fell in love with you, Sheriff. You are such a thoughtful man.”
He grinned down at her and then lingered over a kiss, wishing he didn’t need to get to the office first thing this morning. By the time he’d gotten back to town last night, it had been so late that he’d decided to leave his interrogations until today. And then he’d have to ride out to confront John Hunt about the attack and the possible murder Liora and Tess had witnessed.
Reluctantly, he pulled away. “I’d best get. It’s going to be a long day.” He lifted the Seattle newspaper that had come in with yesterday’s mail, and tucked it under one arm.
Charlotte turned and picked up her satchel from where it waited by the door. “Yes. Me too. Poor Belle Kastain is going to be devastated when I walk into the classroom today with this ring on my finger.” She tossed him a wink.
He rolled his eyes. Charlotte was forever giving him a hard time about the girl, but the truth was, Belle had acted like a perfect lady toward him ever since her father had been shot that fateful day nearly two years ago now. The man still lived, but he’d never been the same since. Reagan playfully kicked Charlotte out the door and she scampered ahead of him giggling like a little girl.
He escorted her to the church, which now functioned as a schoolhouse during the week, and then made his way back across the street and pushed into the jailhouse.
Four sets of eyes glowered at him from the two cells at the back of the building.
He didn’t envy them the night they had all spent on the small uncomfortable cots. “Morning, gentlemen.” He plunked the newspaper onto his desk and set about making a pot of coffee, letting the spoon do plenty of clanking against the pot to ensure he had all their attention. “First one of you who’s willing to tell me what you all were doing out at Miss Fontaine’s place yesterday gets a nice hot cup of coffee. I also have cream and sugar, if you like.” Judging by the hungry looks on all their faces, he added, “I’ll even throw in a plate of bacon and flapjacks from Dixie’s Boardinghouse.” A moment of pause emphasized, “It will be Ewan’s porridge for the rest of you.” He allowed a few beats before he tacked on, “I also heard there was a murder in Camp Sixty-Five, yesterday. Would any of you know anything about that?” He pinned his gaze on Pike.
The man didn’t flinch under his scrutiny.
However, a man in the adjacent cell, the one who’d been left in charge of guarding the attackers’ horses at Liora’s the day before, shuffled his feet.
Burt Pike growled audibly and looked at the smaller man in the cell next to his. “Don’t you say a blamed thing, Tom. Not a blamed thing!”
Tom swallowed and eyed the pot of coffee, his belly yowling loud enough that Reagan could hear it from across the room.
Though his normal practice was to fetch McGinty’s porridge for any prisoner in his jail at this point of the day, today he thought he’d let his point settle a little. He deliberately sank into his desk chair and propped his boots atop the far corner. He pulled over the newspaper he’d brought with him from Ma’s and snapped it open.
It wasn’t long before the scent of fresh coffee wafted through the air. Without a word, he rose, poured himself a cup and returned to his desk. He slurped noisily and smacked his lips, pretending great interest in the paper that didn’t really have anything interesting in it at all.
Reagan was only on his second sip when Tom blurted, “I’ll tell ya whatever ya want to know.”
Burt Pike surged to his feet and grabbed the bars between the cells. “I said you don’t say a word, Tom.” He motioned the man who shared the cell with Tom, toward the smaller man. “Shut him up, Harry.”
Reagan let the cocking of his pistol do his talking.
Everyone froze and looked his way.
He gestured Harry away from Tom with the point of the Colt.
Harry took three reluctant steps, each at the prodding of the gun barrel.
“That’s better. Now, Tom you go on over and sit on that cot next to the wall over there.”
Tom hustled over and did as he was told, wrapping his skinny arms around knees that were so knobby they looked pointed beneath his denims.
Reagan kept his voice low. “Harry, over here by the cell door, please.”
Harry glowered at Tom, but did as he was told.
Reagan slowly opened the cell door and motioned Harry out with the point of his gun. Then, keeping the gun trained on him, he locked the first cell and unlocked the second. This time sweeping his aim to keep all three men in their places, he eased open the door of the second cell. “In.” He motioned Harry into the cell.
With a glum twist of his lips, Harry complied. And thankfully, the other two men were smart enough to hold their places.
It only took Reagan ten minutes to return with the food. He shoved three bowls of McGinty’s porridge beneath the bars of the cell where Pike, Harry, and the third man paced.
Pike had been speaking vehemently to Tom when he’d returned, and for a moment Reagan feared that they might have changed Tom’s mind about spilling what he knew, but when he withheld the man’s plate and asked “You still going to talk to me?” Tom nodded his head vigorously.
Reagan opened his cell door and stepped inside.
Tom’s hands trembled as he reached for the plate, leaving Reagan to wonder when the man had last eaten anything.
Reagan let him eat for a few minutes, and then dove into his questions. “Know anything about the man that was shot in camp yesterday?”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know nothing about that.”
Reagan considered. Maybe he’d work his way back around to that question. He pressed ahead. “All right… Want to tell me what you boys were doing out at Miss Fontaine’s place yesterday?” Reagan had a good idea, but what he really wanted was some evidence that pointed to John Hunt.
Tom sopped up the last of his syrup with the
last bite of flapjack. “We was hired to retrieve…some personal belongings.”
Reagan’s jaw bunched. “You saying that Miss Fontaine took something that belonged to your boss?”
Tom smacked his lips and slurped down the last of his coffee. “In a manner of speakin’.”
“What did she take?”
“‘Twer’n’t a what, but a who.”
“Tess? The girl who was at Miss Fontaine’s house?”
“That’s the one.”
Reagan clasped one wrist behind his back, willing down the anger that wanted to boil over in a pummeling for all four men before him. The girl Tess, whom he’d met the evening before, couldn’t be more than seventeen, if she was a day. “So who does this Tess belong to?”
Reagan held his breath. The word of this no-account wouldn’t hold much weight in court, but it would give him enough evidence to do a little poking around in Hunt’s business. Reagan would like nothing more than to arrest the man and send him away for a good long stretch, but he’d never been able to catch him doing anything illegal.
Tom folded his arms, a smug look overtaking his features. “Well now, I said I’d talk, but that don’t mean I planned to tell you everything.”
Reagan moved so fast, even he was a bit surprised by his actions. One moment he was standing in the cell with Tom and the next he grabbed the man by his shirt and shoved him up against the bars that faced his desk.
Tom’s feet scrabbled for purchase. “Hunt! She belongs to John Hunt!” he hollered.
Curses erupted from the other three men.
“Tom, you’re a fool!”
“Hunt will bury you.”
“Idiot!”
Reagan kept Tom pinned to the bars. “What about the man who was shot?”
Tom trembled. Shook his head. “Don’t know nothing, like I said. I was out in the woods sawing with my crew all day. And when I got back to camp, they said they needed someone to guard their horses and that it paid a dollar. I said I’d do it. That’s the Lord’s honest truth.”
Beauty From Ashes Page 12
