The Lawman's Little Surprise

by Roxann Delaney

  “Of course.”

  “You cooking?”

  “That’s the rumor.”

  “I’ll be there. You can count on it.”

  Kate laughed as he turned and opened the door. “I figured as much.” When he was gone, she turned to Trish. “I really do wish you two would work things out. You couldn’t find a better man.” Her grin appeared, wiping out her concern. “Except for mine, that is.”

  Trish smiled for a brief moment. “I never said I could. But Morgan isn’t interested. Didn’t you notice?”

  “I still say, let Dusty talk—”

  “Absolutely not!” Trish realized she’d raised her voice when several people turned to look at them. “It wouldn’t help, Kate,” she said, her voice lowered. “He made his decision in October, and I don’t intend to try to change his mind.” After the things he’d said the night she’d returned home, she couldn’t think of a reason why she should make the effort.

  Through the café’s large front window, Trish could see Morgan talking to one of the local ranchers. Her appetite vanished, along with the man who had recently made her want to chew nails. But the situation wasn’t over yet and would probably get worse before it got better—if it ever did get better.

  She tried her best to participate in the conversation, but her mind was on other things. When they were finished and leaving the café, she knew this would be her only chance to escape.

  “You two go ahead and start on the list,” she told them as they stood outside in front of the café, discussing what to do first. “I have a quick errand to run, and I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Where?” Kate asked.

  “Just over to Kingfisher. I saw something there I wanted to get for the wedding. It won’t take long, I promise, and then I’ll be back to help finish the errands.”

  “You can’t get it in Desperation?” Aggie asked.

  Trish shook her head. She didn’t want to say any more than she had to.

  Kate shrugged and glanced at Aggie. “I guess we can handle it. Don’t take too long though, Trish. I’d hate to have to call Dusty for a ride home. He’s up to his ears helping Tanner get everything in order with the stock company before we leave.”

  “No longer than it has to take, I promise,” Trish said, moving to her car. When the two had walked away, she climbed in, started the engine and backed out of the parking space. If she could have done this errand in Desperation, she would have, but she didn’t need anyone seeing her purchase the item she needed.

  MORGAN WASN’T LOOKING FORWARD to the wedding rehearsal. He’d pretty much known Trish would be back for her sister’s wedding, but he’d hoped something—anything—might keep her from coming back too soon. And the other night had been too soon for him. If only canceling their wedding had canceled his feelings.

  Opening the door to the Commune the next evening, he stepped inside the entry hall. His job as the town sheriff wasn’t difficult, but before he’d come home, he’d had to lock up John Rutgers for making a scene at Lou’s Place, the local tavern. John was a good man, but when he started drinking, he got mean. Mean enough last June to hold a pistol to—

  From farther down the hallway, he heard a door open. With his foot on the first step of the stairs leading up to his apartment, he stopped.

  “I’ll be back to help with dinner, Freda,” his uncle was saying to the Commune’s cook.

  The door closed and Morgan managed two more steps before Ernie called to him. “There you are. Come on into the kitchen with me while I check on dinner.”

  Morgan didn’t feel up to a conversation with his uncle. “I’d like to shower and change,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it.

  Resting his hand on the newel post, Ernie looked up at him. “I heard you ran into the Claybornes at the café.”

  “I did. Don’t think I hurt them, though.”

  Ernie chuckled. “’Course you didn’t.” He looked around and then met Morgan’s gaze, his expression solemn. “I also heard you had to take John in.”

  “Word travels fast,” Morgan answered with a wry smile. “I could really use that shower, and then I’ll have to take something over for John to eat, so if you don’t—”

  “Ernie, who are you talking to?”

  Morgan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. Hettie had ears like a bat.

  Ernie pressed a finger to his lips. “Just talking to myself, Hettie.” Crooking the same finger at Morgan, he motioned for him to follow.

  Morgan followed him down the hall to the Commune’s office and his uncle’s private apartment. “You can shower here,” Ernie told him. “Freda left a load of laundry in the kitchen, and I saw some of your things in it. You shower, I’ll get your clothes.”

  “Thanks,” Morgan said as he tossed his hat to a nearby chair and strode to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. When his shower was finished, he found the clothes Ernie had brought, dressed in worn jeans and a T-shirt, pinned on his badge and grabbed his hat and jacket.

  He was reaching for the doorknob when the door opened and his uncle walked in, a covered tray in his hands and a large thermos under one arm. “Freda got John’s supper together while you were in the shower,” Ernie explained. When Morgan started to take the tray from him, Ernie shook his head. “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the sofa with a nod. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. It won’t take long.”

  With a shrug, Morgan sat on the sofa while Ernie set the tray and thermos aside.

  “Is everything okay with John?” Ernie asked as he settled in his easy chair.

  Morgan dipped his chin in a nod. “He’s behaving. Not that he hasn’t been drinking, though.”

  “It’s only been that one time, right?”

  Meeting his gaze, Morgan nodded again. “Like I said, he’s behaving.”

  Ernie was silent for a moment, then he shifted in his seat. “Maybe it’s time to tell Trish what happened.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t keep the truth from her,” Ernie said, his voice low. “You’re not being fair to her.”

  Morgan stared at him. “Fair? Was it fair when some hoodlums gunned Ben down in his own front yard? In front of his wife?”

  Ernie shook his head and sighed. “No, it wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean you should live a lie and force Trish to live one, too.”

  “I’d rather she believes I’m heartless.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do mean it,” Morgan insisted.

  “It’s time to put the past to rest and move forward.”

  “I did that when I came to Desperation. I believed bad things didn’t happen here,” Morgan admitted, although it wasn’t easy. “When I asked Trish to marry me, I’d thought those old memories were fading and I’d found some peace. But when John pulled that gun on me, all I could think of was that night in Miami. I swore then that I’d never put a woman through what Connie went through. I meant it.”

  “The thing with John was a one-time thing,” Ernie said. “A fluke.”

  “And who’s to say there won’t be another situation? Maybe John, maybe someone else. There’s no guarantee.”

  “Nobody has a guarantee.”

  Morgan understood what his uncle was saying, but for him, it didn’t matter. He’d rather see Trish with someone else than for her to become his widow. He loved her too much to risk letting that happen.

  Getting to his feet, he avoided looking at Ernie. “I need to get that food to John.”

  Ernie stood, too, and reached out to give Morgan’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Nodding, but knowing there was nothing to think about, Morgan took the supper Freda had prepared for the prisoner and left the apartment.

  He had his hand on the old brass door handle of the entrance to the Commune and was about to open the door when he heard Hettie.

  “Are you leaving? I didn’t know you were here.”
r />   “Yeah, I need to get this food to the jail.”

  “But the committee is here,” Hettie said from behind him.

  He turned to her, completely at a loss. “What committee?”

  Hettie sighed. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten. I asked you three weeks ago to be on the committee planning the New Year’s Eve party. We’ll need help with some of the decorations.”

  “Well, I forgot. And I’m sorry but—”

  Trish appeared in the hallway behind Hettie, not looking particularly pleased. She glanced at Hettie, whose back was to her, and her frown deepened. Morgan sensed she wasn’t happy with their friend, either.

  He’d had enough of Hettie’s matchmaking efforts. “You’ll have to do it without me. I have dinner to take to—”

  “Now, Morgan…”

  He knew he was about to lose his temper, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. “No, Hettie—”

  “Hettie, please,” Trish interrupted. “We don’t need him. I’m sure there’s someone else who’s willing and free to help.”

  “But—” Hettie began, and then stopped.

  Defeat was written all over her face, and Morgan felt awful for treating her badly. “I won’t be gone long,” he said.

  Trish took a step forward. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll be here when you get back. I need to get home,” she explained and glanced at Hettie. “The meeting is nearly over, and I’m sure Aunt Aggie and Kate are expecting me home soon.”

  “Drive carefully,” he told her, meaning it. Now that she was driving, he worried about her, especially on the dirt country roads at night.

  Quickly slipping out the door, he sucked in a deep breath of cold night air on the way to his cruiser and felt better. As he drove the few blocks to the town jail, he thought about Hettie’s persistence, but he wouldn’t let it get to him. The clock couldn’t be turned back to a happier time.

  He parked the cruiser and walked into the City Building where all the city offices were located, including his, and the jail. He made quick work of checking on the prisoner and his deputy. Not wanting to stay long and listen to John’s complaining, he returned to his car.

  The drive back to the Commune gave him just enough time to revisit Hettie’s arguments, confirming his belief that there was nothing left to talk about. He’d made his decision six weeks ago, the night before Trish had left on her tour—the night he’d broken their engagement and canceled their wedding. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation—especially Hettie.

  “EVERYONE MAKE CERTAIN you stay clear of the candles,” Theda Baker, the minister’s wife, said, lining up the bridesmaids in the brown winter grass. Headlights from several vehicles lit the area of the park around the large gazebo where the wedding would take place the next evening. “I know the candles aren’t here this evening, but they’ll be lining the main aisle tomorrow night, and we don’t want someone bumping into them and having the whole town going up in smoke. And where have Greta and Travis gone to?”

  “Right here,” Trish answered, standing with Kate’s six-year-old flower girl and ring bearer. “Come on, kids,” she told them, taking them by the hand. “Mrs. Baker is going to give us our instructions for tomorrow night.”

  Tomorrow night. The thought made Trish’s head spin as she placed Greta and Travis in front of Terry Tartelli, Kate’s stand-in, according to tradition. So much had happened since Kate had announced she and Dusty were engaged and there would be a Christmas wedding. They’d had so little time to plan everything, yet here they were, with the wedding only one day away. Her own wedding would have been over and done with, and she’d be a happily married woman, if she hadn’t gone on tour and Morgan hadn’t canceled the wedding. But she was determined not to let any of that spoil the joy of her sister’s wedding.

  In front of the gazebo, Dusty stood with his best man and business partner, Tanner O’Brien, while the ushers, Morgan and Jimmy Tartelli, waited off to the side. Trish could tell Morgan was doing everything he could to keep from looking at her. After Morgan had canceled the wedding, Kate had asked if having him as an usher would be a problem. Trish had told her it wouldn’t. Now she wished she’d told her to find someone else.

  “Fran, if you’ll start the processional…” Mrs. Baker said, signaling the musician, who sat at a small portable organ. Turning to the wedding party as the first strains of music rang out, she smiled. “All right, girls, are we ready?”

  Trish moved into position and looked around. Seventeen-year-old Shawn O’Brien, Tanner’s nephew, was missing. “Shawn isn’t here yet,” she pointed out.

  “He’s at basketball practice,” Jules, Tanner’s wife, said from her spot ahead of Trish. “He’ll be here as soon as he can, but you know how the coach is about his players.”

  Mrs. Baker, obviously not convinced, looked to her husband, who stood inside the gazebo. “It’s all right, Theda, we’ll just use a stand-in until he gets here,” the reverend told her as the strains of the processional died out. “Sheriff Rule, would you mind standing in for the young man?”

  Trish didn’t miss how Morgan glanced toward the street. He was clearly not fond of the idea, but he stood and joined Dusty and Tanner at the steps of the gazebo.

  “All right,” Mrs. Baker called out. “Fran, if you would start again?”

  For the second time, the music began, and Mrs. Baker cued Jules to start her walk down the aisle. A few musical bars later, Trish followed.

  She and Kate had spent hours choosing music, intent on not duplicating anything for the two weddings being planned to take place only two months apart. It suddenly struck her that her choices would never be played—at least at her own wedding—and she felt a sadness that nearly overwhelmed her.

  Don’t think about it. Just don’t.

  She reached her place at the gazebo and turned to see her sister watching the rehearsal, a nervous smile playing on her lips. She caught Trish’s eye and winked. Kate had always been the tomboy of the two of them and had at first tried to talk Dusty into eloping. Trish blessed him for insisting they do it the old-fashioned way. Tonight Kate looked like the epitome of the blushing but nervous bride—a bride in blue jeans, boots and a Sherpa jacket, her long auburn braid tossed over one shoulder. Trish instantly forgot her own troubles and returned her sister’s mischievous wink.

  Reverend Baker took over the rehearsal and explained each step of the ceremony. Five minutes later, a shout was heard.

  “Sorry I’m late. Blame Coach,” Shawn called out, rushing to join the rest of the wedding party. “Where do you want me?”

  “Here,” Morgan said, quickly stepping back and indicating the spot where he’d stood. He moved away to where the last row of the chairs would be, even before Shawn rushed to take his place.

  “We’re glad you could make it, Shawn,” Reverend Baker told him. “How’s the team doing this year?”

  “Good,” Shawn answered, looking a bit embarrassed that the spotlight was still on him.

  “Glad to hear it. I was just running through the steps of the ceremony,” Reverend Baker explained. “Now that you’re here, we’ll go through them again quickly for everyone. I’m sure you’ll catch on.”

  Trish focused on the Reverend’s instructions. The last thing she wanted to do was mess up during her sister’s wedding. And it helped her forget, if only for a little while, that Morgan was there, watching.

  “Any questions?” Reverend Baker asked. “No? Then we’re done. Try to get some rest tonight, although I know for some of you it won’t be easy.”

  “Please come to the rehearsal dinner, Reverend,” Kate urged.

  Reverend Baker glanced around the area. “You have many friends to help make it a memorable night, Kate. I’m sure I won’t be missed. But thank you again for the invitation.”

  Tanner was talking to Morgan, but stopped. “It’s Kate’s cooking, Reverend. Are you sure you want to miss it?”

  Reverend Baker tipped his head back and laughed, the sound filling the d
ark evening. “The temptation is strong, but I’ll still beg off.”

  Trish watched as Kate stepped up and gave the older man a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Kate,” he said.

  Turning around, Kate looked over the group waiting for instructions. “Fifteen minutes, everybody. Don’t let the food get cold.” Looping her arm through Trish’s, she led her back up the makeshift aisle to the park’s entrance. “It went well, I’d say. Now let’s hope the wedding goes off without a snag.”

  “It will,” Trish replied, “and everyone in Desperation will be talking about it for months.”

  Kate laughed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  They were interrupted by Dusty, who swept Kate into his arms and gave her a noisy kiss. Friends chuckled in the background, and Trish eased away.

  Dusty touched her arm, stopping her. “Where are you going?”

  Needing to escape, if only for a few minutes, Trish stepped back. “I think I’ll go on to the café and see if they need any help setting up.”

  Dusty shook his head, then jammed his cowboy hat lower onto his head. Still keeping an arm around his bride-to-be, he took Trish’s arm. “Nope. That’s not the job of the maid of honor. They have plenty of help over at the café. Aggie made sure of that. And you’re going to walk over with us.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Kate said, her stern voice sounding much like Aunt Aggie’s. “I know this isn’t easy for you, what with Morgan here and everything, but I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “I’m fine,” Trish assured her, not wanting to worry her sister at the most important time of her life.

  Kate studied her closely, but spoke to Dusty. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes?”

  Dusty appeared to be put out, but his quick smile made a lie of it. “In a little over twenty-four hours, you’ll be all mine, so, no, I don’t mind. Just don’t be long.”

  “Is something wrong?” Trish asked, after he’d given Kate a quick kiss and strolled away to join the other men.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”