“I could—that is, well, if it’s the peaches that are the problem, I could help you with them,” the sheriff offered. He forced himself to turn his eyes to Bobby. “Just to be sure you get your homework done.”
The boy smiled. “It’s subtracting.”
The sheriff nodded. “We’ll figure it out—why don’t you bring it along while we deliver the bakery stuff? You can ask me questions on the road.”
The sheriff figured a few questions would keep his mind off the boy’s mother.
Bobby nodded.
“I don’t have any peaches,” Amanda said. She moved a step closer to the sheriff. “But I have a princess. See?”
The sheriff nodded. The girl looked just like her mother must have at that age. He wanted to pat her on the head.
“You can’t see from way up there,” Amanda said.
The sheriff knelt down so he could admire the princess doll. “Well, you’re right, she’s very pretty, isn’t she?”
Amanda nodded. “And she’s going to learn to read big books, too. It won’t be hard for her ’cause she’s a princess.”
“I’m sure she’s going to learn to read all kinds of books just fine,” the sheriff agreed. “Just like you will.”
“You’ll learn to read better next year,” Barbara said as she walked toward the back room. Amanda had not gone to kindergarten so she was behind some of the kids in the first grade class, but the teachers assured her she would catch up. “I’ll just be a minute with that cake.”
“Take your time, ma’—” the sheriff floundered. “I mean, Mrs.—that is, Barbara.”
The sheriff couldn’t help but remember the days in the hospital when he’d called Barbara “dear.” Of course, she was so confused from all the pain medication at the time that she’d never even reprimanded him. She probably hadn’t even heard him.
There was nothing wrong with her hearing now. Barbara turned around and frowned as she walked through the doorway leading to the back of the building. “I’m not a Mrs. anymore. Barbara is fine.”
The sheriff watched her go into the other room. The woman was more than fine. “Yes, Barbara.”
The sheriff wondered if Barbara had any idea of how very perfect she was. Probably not. Unless, of course, someone like Pete Denning had already begun to tell her. The sheriff wondered if the thought of Pete sweet-talking Barbara should trouble him as much as it did.
He sure hoped he wasn’t falling for Barbara Strong in a serious way. He had a feeling it would take a long time to get her out of his system once she married someone else.
And, of course, that’s what she would do. A woman like her could have her choice of the single men around here. One of them was bound to strike her fancy. The sheriff would be a fool to hope otherwise. His days of calling Barbara “dear” were long gone. He’d be calling her “Mrs. This” or “Mrs. That” before he knew it, so he’d best not think of her as anything but “Barbara.”
The sheriff sighed. He sure wished he could go back to calling her “dear.”
But the sheriff never was one to grieve over what couldn’t be helped. He just needed to do something to meet more women. There was bound to be someone sensible whom he could date. Maybe he’d meet someone in Miles City. As he recalled, Charley had a niece some where in Miles City who was single. Maybe he should ask the older man to set up a blind date for him.
The sheriff sighed again. That’s what he should do all right. But maybe he’d wait until he got this stuff finished with Barbara and her children first. Then he’d be able to concentrate on dating someone.
Chapter Seven
The sheriff had never been on his knees around children. Apparently, Amanda and Bobby got under his skin as much as their mother did. “Maybe we should talk about some of those peaches about now.”
The sheriff needed to get back to something familiar, and homework about peaches would do as well as anything, especially if it was math homework. Math was clean and reason able. A man knew when he had the right answer. There was no guessing at what something meant or wondering if there was a better way to say something.
The sheriff felt like he didn’t know anything. Knowing the answer and helping a boy with his homework were two different things. The sheriff knew he shouldn’t just give Bobby the answer to the question, so it took him twenty minutes to help Bobby think through how many peaches Howard would have left to enter in the best peach contest at the state fair if he started with eighteen, then sold four before he got there, ate three himself and gave one to each of five friends he met on his way to the fair.
Bobby had a question about whether Howard was supposed to give a peach to everyone he met along the way or only his friends. The sheriff didn’t know a thing about friends, but he couldn’t say that to the boy, not when Bobby was looking at him as though he knew how the sun and stars were hung in the sky. So the sheriff did his best to answer the question the way he thought Barbara would want it answered.
The sheriff acknowledged that if Howard had given a peach to everyone he passed on the way he would have none left to enter in the contest at the fair. So, it couldn’t be right to give everyone a peach.
Together the sheriff and Bobby decided that a peach only really needed to be given to someone who was very hungry. That was duty, the sheriff explained and it was important to do one’s duty. Giving the peaches to his friends, well, the sheriff reasoned that was something Howard had done because he wanted to do it. It wasn’t related to the job. A wise man, the sheriff counseled Bobby, would look in his basket and count how many peaches were left before he gave them all away.
“But I want to have lots of friends,” Bobby said. “Some body would sure be my friend if I gave them a peach.”
The sheriff was exhausted. He felt as if he’d interrogated a dozen prisoners instead of figuring out the fate of a basket of peaches. There was more to homework than the sheriff had expected. And it didn’t end with Bobby’s peaches.
It took the sheriff another ten minutes to reassure Amanda that she was a smart girl and would learn to read better at the right time and, when she did, that she’d be able to do the kind of homework that Bobby had in front of him right now. And, yes, Bobby would, of course, give one of the peaches to her. Sisters came before friends in the peach line.
The sheriff half expected to feel sweat on his forehead when he rubbed his hand over his face. He wasn’t used to talking to children at all. He certainly had never been called upon to help in questions like this.
“I’m ready,” Barbara called out from the back room just before she came back out with a triple-layer cake in a square box with a cellophane window.
The sheriff wondered how the woman did it. She was obviously doing a great job of raising her kids. She probably handled a dozen peach questions every day. And she made it all look so easy.
The sheriff rose to his feet when Barbara came into the room. Not only did she raise the kids, she also made one great-looking cake. No wonder Pete was flirting with her. The sheriff could see through the cellophane to the flaky coconut topping of the cake inside. She’d even tied a blue ribbon around the box to make it look festive.
“That’s very nice,” the sheriff said. He noticed that a long strand of dark hair had escaped the clip that Barbara had used to pull her hair back and away from her face. She was wearing a pressed white blouse and jeans. If she hadn’t been carrying the cake box, he was sure her hands would have been gesturing all around. She still didn’t wear any rings on her fingers.
“I’ve got the note right here,” Barbara said as she used her chin to point to the card that was slipped under the ribbon. She sounded triumphant. “I copied it word for word. If it contains some secret message for Neal, he’ll get it.”
“That’s good,” the sheriff said. The sheriff looked down at Bobby and Amanda. The two children had moved closer to him as he helped them with their homework and they had stood up shortly after he had. Amanda was leaning against his leg and Bobby was standing just inche
s away from him. The sheriff put a hand on each of their heads. “I guess we’re ready to go then.”
The sun had risen several hours ago, but it hadn’t brought any heat with it. The sky was overcast and the sheriff figured spring would take its sweet time in coming to Dry Creek. It sure wasn’t making an appearance today. The air was cool and a breeze was coming from the north.
Barbara and her two children were gathered with him around his car as it stood parked beside the front steps of Lizette’s place. The road came close to the building, but there was a lane left bare for parking and the dried ruts of car tires from previous rains had turned the ground uneven. Everyone was wearing a sweater and the baked goods were packed in the trunk of his car.
The sheriff decided the odds were good that it would rain before the day ended and that was fine with him. If the day got cooler, it would only make the inside of his car feel cozier.
He was glad he had the use of the full-size official sedan. There were no bucket seats in the car and, if Barbara were so inclined, she could slide a little closer to him on the ride back later today after they’d made all of the deliveries.
Some thing about thinking about all of those peach friends of Bobby’s made the sheriff want to draw a little closer to someone. Maybe life wasn’t always about having enough peaches to enter the contest. Barbara’s children had slid closer to him this morning when they did their homework, the sheriff reasoned. Maybe it was just a sliding kind of a day since it was cold and gray. Speaking of the children, they would probably be napping in the car by the time they were all driving back from Billings, especially if it was still drizzling outside.
If the afternoon was cold, the sheriff told himself that maybe he’d put on some slow-moving music in his cassette player to make the inside of the car feel warmer. It wasn’t poetry, but a man couldn’t go wrong with music. Maybe Barbara would slide over and not even realize it. They might even have one of those comfort able conversations they’d had by her hospital bed, those long talks that had been about nothing and everything all at the same time. If they talked like that for awhile, maybe Barbara would forget all about trying to find a husband like Pete Denning.
Yes, a rainy day would be good.
If the sheriff hadn’t been dreaming of impossible things, he’d have noticed sooner that they had a problem right here and now that had nothing to do with the weather or peaches or music. It was Barbara who pointed out the problem. There was nothing for the children to sit on when they rode in his car.
“I have hand cuffs,” the sheriff offered after a few seconds as he bent down to peer into the backseat of his car, hoping to find more than he knew was there. “Of course, they don’t lend them selves to much height, but they would keep the kids in place if we cuffed them to the seat straps—”
“You can’t put hand cuffs on my kids!”
“Well, it wouldn’t be for criminal purposes, it would be for their safety in the car.”
“I can’t believe the county doesn’t supply you with booster seats.”
“So far we haven’t had any prisoners so short they need extra seats,” the sheriff said. “If we do start to arrest them, I guess then we’ll get the seats.”
“I did my home work,” Bobby said softly.
“I know you did, son,” the sheriff said as he reached over to put his hand on the young boy’s shoulders. The sheriff smiled down in the most reassuring way he could. “Like I said before though, it’s not an official crime with the state if you don’t do your homework some days.”
Barbara looked at him a little strangely, but she didn’t say anything.
For the first time in his life, the sheriff wished he had a way with children. He knew some men were just natural Pied Pipers. Children followed them anywhere, giggling and smiling. The sheriff wasn’t the kind of man whom children considered fun. Look how nervous he’d made Bobby even before they’d talked about peaches. The boy had thought he might be arrested at any minute for failing to do something as simple as his homework.
Of course, the sheriff knew some other things were more important to a child than fun. And he knew he was some of those things. He was reliable and children could count on him. He’d protect a child with his life. That might not be fun, but it was certainly useful if a child was ever in trouble.
The sheriff moved his hand from Bobby’s shoulder to his back. He felt Bobby lean into his hand slightly.
Barbara was right, the sheriff knew. Even if it was for safety, he wouldn’t stand for someone putting hand cuffs on this young boy or his sister either.
The sheriff took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. Barbara and the children were all standing next to him on the left side of the car. The morning air smelled of wet grass. The sheriff felt the crunch of gravel under his boots as he moved around slightly and he heard the sound of a pickup in the distance. He could tell it was an old pickup because of the grinding sound of the engine. The sheriff thought it was too bad he didn’t have engine trouble with his own car. That would at least buy him some time.
The sheriff didn’t relish explaining his predicament to the entire town of Dry Creek. He was the sheriff; he was supposed to think ahead and be prepared. Now that Barbara had caught that bouquet, he knew people in this town would be measuring the men around her to see who was the best candidate to be a new husband. Pete Denning would probably have thought of booster seats and arrived at Barbara’s door with a bouquet of flowers this morning in addition to the seats. The sheriff was more used to solving crimes than anticipating the needs of a family.
The hardware store was directly across the street from where they all stood and the sheriff could see one or two of the older men stand up so they could see them better out the window.
The sheriff ignored the urge to wave to the men. He didn’t want them to take a wave as an invitation to come over. The older men inside the hardware store were always helpful to anyone in town who had car trouble, and the sheriff suspected the men thought it was mechanical trouble that was keeping him, Barbara, and the children outside in the chilly air, looking at the car instead of just climbing in and driving it down the road.
“It’s just that Amanda is small for her age and really needs one. Bobby is on the edge so he can get by. But we at least need one for Amanda,” Barbara finally said. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her hair was mussed from the slight wind that had started to blow. “I’ll have to get the seats that Mrs. Hargrove uses in her car when she takes us some place.”
The sheriff heard the sounds of the hardware door slamming shut. He hoped that meant one of the men was going to go out to his pickup so he could drive home.
“She’ll lend them to you, but don’t be surprised if she asks a return favor,” the sheriff said. He might not be good at anticipating all of a family’s needs, but he did know Mrs. Hargrove. “She’s recruiting people to help her with her Sun day-school class tomorrow.”
Barbara turned white. Mrs. Hargrove had asked her to bring the children to Sunday school before, but the older woman had never pressed her when Barbara gave an excuse not to accept the invitation. And some of her excuses had been pretty thin. “Maybe instead of helping, I could make her a pie with some of the tart apples Lizette bought before she left. I’m sure Mrs. Hargrove would like an old-fashioned apple pie. Charley said it’s the best he’s ever tasted.”
Barbara had watched the older man as he marched across the paved road from the hardware store to where she stood with her children. He’d obviously been listening to her talk as he walked.
“That’s a fact,” Charley said as he stepped within easy talking distance. The old man was wearing a red-and-black-checkered wool jacket. The jacket swung open and showed a pale-blue cotton shirt underneath. Charley took another step and was close enough to Barbara so he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. “I keep saying it was some of the best pie I’ve ever eaten. Reminds me of the pies folks make around here at Thanksgiving time when the apples are more tart than sweet.�
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The older man paused for a moment, whether out of respect for the apples or because he was caught up in the memory of a long-ago pie.
Then he gave Barbara a look and started again, “Just for the record, my nephew likes apple pie, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a family weakness. If some woman were to make him an apple pie, I reckon he’d propose on the spot. If she threw in a basketful of fresh-fried chicken, he’d even set the wedding date.”
“I’m not looking for a pro pos al—or a wedding date,” Barbara said. She smiled at the older man to show there were no hard feelings. “I’m just looking for car seats.”
“Well, my nephew could get you the whole car, seats and all. Who has a car without car seats anyway?”
“She means car seats for the kids—booster seats,” the sheriff said. He took some comfort in the fact that car seats seemed as be wildering to Charley as they were to him. Maybe Pete wouldn’t have thought of them, after all. At least the sheriff seemed to know more than Charley about them. “Mrs. Hargrove has some—we’re just thinking about asking her to lend them to us.”
Barbara seemed not to have heard anything the sheriff was saying. He heard her continue to mutter to herself.
“I could throw in a batch of donuts. She likes maple donuts,” Barbara murmured under her breath.
The sheriff grunted. “I offered to reroof her house so she’d babysit while we have dinner tonight and she didn’t agree. That’s a thousand-dollar job if she has to hire it out. But she didn’t bite. She said she needs extra help with those kids in Sunday school. That was her only trading offer.”
Charley chuckled. “She’s always looking for help with those kids.”
Barbara shook her head. “How bad can they be? They’re in Sunday school! I wouldn’t think they would dare give anyone much trouble no matter how bored they were.”
Charley laughed. “I’ve never heard any of the kids complain about being bored in Mrs. Hargrove’s class. She keeps it all lively.”
Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek Page 22
