She and Isaac did as Lavendar asked. Chance, still holding Sally, waited with Preacher Grisson. Someone handed a washcloth to Isaac.
“Give us a moment,” he said to the crowd, and people turned away and gave Deborah a moment to at least wash the soot from her face.
She leaned her head closer to Isaac to whisper. “It’s looks like Sally has taken a liking to Chance. Why?”
“Sometimes people just recognize each other.” His warm brown eyes sparkled as he gazed into hers.
Deborah nodded and took his arm. Isaac cleared his throat, and everyone quieted. Deborah’s fingers dug into Isaac’s arm so tightly he winced but did not try to loosen her grip.
He led her down the steps, and then the few feet to Chance who never took his gaze from her face. Those eyes burned into her and warmed her and made her forget her weariness.
Isaac may have said something when he released her. If so, she did not hear. All she was aware of was that Chance clasped her hand again. Her fingers wrapped around his.
Her tears still blinded her, tears of happiness, as Preacher Grisson said, “We’re gathered here today...”
She’d never be able to say, “I do,” but maybe a nod would do the job.
Chapter Ten
Chance was frustrated. Sally Jane had not let him out of her sight the entire night. She slept between them, and when he tried to move her to her own bed, she woke and cried. He’d finally given up on getting closer to Deborah and had finally slept but awakened early. Sally Jane continued sleeping as he quietly slipped from the bed.
He thought of awakening Deborah, sneaking into another bedroom but discarded the idea. The last few days had been hell on her, and she needed her rest.
He went into the kitchen and made the coffee. The sun was up, high in the sky. He’d been dead tired, too, and overslept.
Chance got the fire started in the wood stove, made coffee, and poked around the kitchen. There was not much food around. Fritz had had his saddlebags bulging with food, probably from cleaning out the kitchen.
Chance was strangely calm for someone who had no idea what awaited—if he’d be arrested, or if Deborah would, very likely, both. All his focus was on Deborah, and he cared for nothing else—well, except for the little girl asleep in the bed by his wife.
He smiled when he thought of last night’s events. Deborah’s group of family and friends had all entered the hotel together, he supposed wanting to comfort each other and to speak with Deborah.
Sally Jane, who had been whining in Sophia’s lap, caught sight of him and squirmed to escape her grasp. She’d run to Chance and threw her arms around his neck.
Still holding the little girl, he’d called the sheriff aside, then and there, and told her he wanted to marry Deborah immediately. Partly, it was because of Sally Jane. It had twisted his heart almost from his chest when he’d seen her, looking so forlorn, on the platform at the depot. Someone had to take her, care for her, and he wanted it to be him.
Not that he felt guilty about her grandmother’s death. What were the odds that a bullet would ricochet from the school bell at the exact angle, to the exact distance to where Miss Edna stood? Probably he should have shot the man as he rode by, but he refused to assume that guilt.
It was not his fault, but that of physics, of bad luck, of something... He could not assign it to God, except perhaps God allowed it to happen. Even if it was God’s doing, Heaven was simply a matter of opening a door, of crossing a bridge, going from one existence to another. And if the Bible were to be believed, it was a place where all tears were wiped away. His belief had wavered during the War, when he’d shot his own brother, and then when his parents had disowned him, and his older brother had turned him out.
However, it had led him here, to Deborah, perhaps to Sally Jane. And if he’d learned anything, it was that life was short. His faith was weak but perhaps it would strengthen with time.
So, he had asked the sheriff, although he wasn’t sure if she could have stopped him from marrying, and she’d only studied him a moment before she nodded her assent.
Deborah, Lavendar said, was in the kitchen. He’d looked around at all the folks in the hotel, all the people Deborah cared about, and knew no reason to delay their marriage. Preacher Grisson, sitting on the purple velvet settee, had agreed, and it became a matter of convincing Deborah, and that had been much easier than he anticipated. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune, his wife, Deborah, whom he’d loved from the moment he’d seen her. He was content or would be if the little girl ever allowed him near Deborah.
From the way it stood now, Sally Jane was not going to let him have a moment alone with his wife, and it would take time to help her feel safe, safe enough to let him from her sight. A knock sounded at the door.
It was Calvin Meyers. “Good morning, Mr. Hale. The sheriff sent me to deliver a message.” Calvin peered around Chance.
“What are you doing?” Chance asked irritably. He had not even had his first cup of coffee and wasn’t up for chitchat.
Calvin smiled up at him and raised his eyebrows. “I was looking for Mrs. Hale. I heard you and Miss Deborah tied the knot.”
Chance frowned at him. “She’s indisposed. What does the sheriff want?”
Calvin got very still and focused on a spot on the door frame near Chance’s head. “She said to inform you the circuit judge will be in the conference room at the bank at two o’clock sharp. You and Miss Deborah... I mean, Mrs. Hale are to be there.” He looked down at his boots when he spoke his next words. “Said if she had to come after you, you’d be in a sorry mess.”
Chance gritted his teeth and spoke through a clenched jaw. “Tell the sheriff we will be there.”
He closed the door in Calvin’s face and then felt a little ashamed. It wasn’t Calvin’s fault. He was only the messenger.
Chance grimaced. Still, that boy had come to ogle Deborah. Chance grimaced and then laughed at his jealousy of the youngster.
Deborah appeared in the doorway, and Sally Jane pushed past her and made a beeline to Chance.
“You left me,” the little girl accused.
“Look,” Chance said without picking her up. “I can’t carry you with me everywhere I go.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and Deborah frowned at him and made a motion with the back of her hands.
He obeyed his wife and picked the little girl up and took a seat at the table. “Coffee’s on the stove, Deborah.”
“I’ll pour us a cup.” She gave a big yawn. “Who was that at the door?”
“Calvin. He had a message from the sheriff. The judge wants us to meet in the conference room of the bank at two today.”
“Today? But the bank burned, and we need to help clean up.” She set his coffee down in front of him and took a seat across from him, cradling her own cup.
He tried not to look directly at his wife. Even straight out of bed, with tiredness showing in her eyes from the day before, she was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. He spoke to the wall instead. “Only the front of the lobby burned. The conference room is still intact.”
“Thank goodness for that. Father spent a fortune on the table and chairs. Hired a craftsman from southeast Texas to handmake the furniture.” His eyes were drawn to her as she absently wrapped a curl around a finger.
Chance nodded, not really interested in furniture, especially not with his new wife sitting across the table from him. He inclined his head to touch the top of Sally Jane’s. “What are we going to do with her?”
“I hungry,” Sally Jane said.
Chance stood with her in his arms. “Sit with Miss Deborah, and I’ll make breakfast.”
Sally Jane kicked, locked her legs, and refused to bend her knees. “No.”
Chance frowned at Deborah who got to her feet. “Sally, Chance can’t hold you all the time.”
“Why?”
“He has other things he needs to do.” Her eyes met his, and she smiled.
Her silky skin begged fo
r his hand, but Sally Jane kicked at Deborah, and her hold tightened around his neck. Chance loosened her arms, but to little avail. He looked to his wife for help.
She shrugged. “I don’t think we have any food in the house. Why don’t we go to Molly’s?”
Chance smiled. “I’m sure she’s not open today, but it shouldn’t take Tom and Molly long to get the restaurant up and running. How about the hotel?”
Deborah nodded. “All right. We’ll be going by the doctor’s office, and I can stop to check on Curt and Karl.”
Chance nodded, and he prayed they’d find them still among the living. And then he reconsidered his prayer. Karl had suffered a gut wound, and it wasn’t very likely he’d survive. Such a death was agonizing—he’d seen enough of them during the War to know.
His wife, Sally Jane, the meeting with the judge, the damage to the town, and Deborah’s brothers on the brink of death—it all came crashing down. Pressure from all directions squeezed him, pressed so that he had to do something. He paced the floor with Sally Jane in his arms.
“What’s wrong?” Deborah asked him.
“Nothing and everything.”
“You mean the judge? I don’t think we’ll go to prison... Do you? I mean the money was not stolen...” Her face turned up to his, and she searched his eyes.
“Yes, but you and Lydia broke us out of jail. We led the sheriff on a merry race, leaving the town unprotected from that gang.” Tightness entered his chest and threatened to choke him.
“You think Sheriff Vic could have stopped the gang from—” She broke off and looked at Sally Jane as if she’d thought better of what she planned to say.
Chance shrugged. “Who can say? I don’t mean to worry you...”
A smile spread across her face. “Funny, but I’m not worried. I suppose so much has happened that whatever our fate, it seems insignificant. Do you feel that way?”
“Yes.” He loosened Sally Jane’s arms and held them to the side as he bent to plant a kiss on his wife’s warm lips.
Her eyes darkened. A flicker of excitement passed through her eyes. “If prison awaits us, perhaps we need to redeem the time while we can.”
His breathing deepened as ease and excitement eased in his stomach. “We have a slight problem.”
Deborah tilted her head. “When we stop to check on my brothers, I’ll talk to Abby. She has a way with children.”
He certainly hoped so, but he wasn’t sure. “Go get ready.”
“Are you in a hurry?” Her eyes sparkled, teasing him.
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He freed a hand and reached out to her, capturing and holding her hand against his cheek.
And she pulled away, laughed, and ran from the room. “I’ll be ready faster than you can say Jack Robinson,” she called over her shoulder.
Chapter Eleven
Deborah brushed away her irritation. It wasn’t Sally Jane’s fault. Who could blame her after all she’d been through? Too bad the little girl latched onto Chance with such ferocity that it made it impossible for Deborah to get close to her own husband.
The short time it had taken Chance to bathe and dress had turned to pure agony for Deborah. Sally Jane’s pouts had turned to tears and then to screams before Chance emerged. He offered an apology, but he had no need. He’d taken no more than ten minutes.
After they checked on Curt and Karl, and finding them unchanged from the day before, she’d asked Abby for help, as she had promised Chance. All Abby told her was to have patience. Even Mathew’s son Ethan could not entice Sally Jane from Chance’s lap nor could the temptation of sweets at the hotel. Sally Jane stuck to Chance like a tick.
They stayed at the hotel, in the lobby, whiling away the time, hoping to distract the little girl. Nothing worked. She’d fallen asleep in Chance’s arms.
The weather had warmed, and they found a sunny spot on the veranda of the hotel and waited. Deborah looked at the sleeping girl in Chance’s arms. Her irritation must have shown.
His face held a tender expression. “She’ll adjust, Deborah.”
“I suppose. Eventually.” Deborah laughed, not without some bitterness. By the time Sally adjusted, they might both be serving prison sentences.
“Maybe we need to search for her mother.” He pressed his lips together and looked away as if it had pained him to say it.
Deborah raised her eyebrows. “I thought we were going to?”
He shot her a quick glance. “Sophia made it sound as if her mother abandoned her. I see no need if that is the case.”
“The woman is still her mother, and we need to find her. And even if she does not want her, it’s possible Miss Edna had other family.” Not that she didn’t want Sally to stay with them. Her heart ached for the young girl.
Chance’s words, when he spoke, were innocuous, but his eyes were guarded. “What time is it?”
“Quarter till. I suppose we can walk toward the bank.” The weather was warmer than it had been for the past few days, although still cool.
The sun shone brightly, but the smell of smoke still hung heavily in the air. The walk depressed her, and the brightness of the day brought home the amount of destruction. The burnt front of the bank affected her the most, her father’s pride and joy. Deborah was sure Fritz or Klint had taken measures to secure the gold in the jars. If she’d opened that jar of marmalade, how different might things have turned out? But it was too late now. The past was immutable.
To drive the dreary thoughts away, she turned to Chance. “Do you want me to carry her?”
Chance had to be tired from carrying her around all day. Sally slept peacefully and might not awaken if Chance placed her in her arms.
He shook his head, his face grim. “I can manage.”
They walked down Main Street and saw no one about. Folks were probably tired from the events of the day before and were resting. The town was eerily quiet, quieter than Deborah ever remembered. Thomas Reed, one of the few people on the street, stood outside of Molly’s Restaurant, surveying the damage.
“Do you need any help?” Chance asked.
Deborah did not understand why. There was very little he could do with the little girl in his arms.
“No. The supplies disappeared quickly from what was left of the general store. Some men have gone over to Woodland to bring back more.”
That explained some of the quietness, but surely not everyone had gone.
Thomas looked to the sleeping child and then raised his glance to Chance. “She’s a pretty little thing. A shame about Miss Edna.”
Chance gave a nod but did not answer.
Deborah spoke, her head slightly bowed, afraid Sally might awaken. “It certainly is. Please give Molly my regards.”
She raised a hand in good-bye, and they turned to walk up North Main Street. Her heart ached. The Brokkens needed to help out the reparations of the town. She’d speak to Fritz when she saw him.
The butcher shop had burned to the ground, and Missy sat in front of where her father’s shop used to stand.
Deborah smiled a tentative greeting.
“Are you going to the bank?” Missy asked them.
Deborah nodded.
“I’ll walk with you.” Missy stood and brushed the dirt from her dress. “Sheriff Vic is already there. I’m staying with her,” she confided.
“For how long?” Chance asked.
“I will stay for my father’s funeral. I have family back East, and Sheriff Vic will telegraph them after she ... finishes at the bank.”
Deborah pressed her lips together, surprised that the girl seemed so little affected by the burning of the shop and the death of her father, although she’d heard the butcher had been a hard man with little patience.
Missy’s eyes were red-rimmed. Perhaps she was one of those who hid their emotions. “Did you say you were staying with the sheriff?” Deborah asked.
“I had nowhere else to go. I suppose I could have stayed at the hotel, but I’d rather stay with the sheriff.”
They reached the bank, and Missy held out her arms. “If you’d like, I’ll keep Sally with me.”
Chance frowned at her and shook his head. “She’s no trouble. I’ll hold her.”
Deborah was not so sure. If she awakened, she’d probably make a fuss. And what would the judge think? But a look at Chance made her reconsider her words she almost spoke aloud. If they were lucky, she’d sleep through the meeting.
The smell of smoke was heavy throughout the town, but Deborah choked with more than the smoke when she entered through the front of the bank. Some smoke particles had not yet settled and swirled as they passed. Luckily, the cuckoo clock had not burned.
She looked to Chance for help and sighed. Klint or Fritz would take it down for her, and she’d make sure her grandfather’s clock was protected until the bank was repaired. At least, someone had swept out the heavy soot. Chance called her name and cocked his head at the door. She opened the conference room door for him.
The judge waited with the sheriff, their heads bent together over a sheaf of papers. When they entered, Judge Davis gave a short nod, and they took a seat.
The judge ignored them and instead read the papers he held in his hand.
The sheriff cleared her throat, cast a glance at the judge, who remained engrossed in reading, and then slid an envelope across the table to Chance. “Please do not open it until this is over.”
Chance’s forehead furrowed. “What is this?”
“For once, do as I say and ask no questions.” The sheriff leaned back and crossed her arms.
Chance shot Deborah a look. She shrugged. He picked up the envelope and folded it to fit into his pocket, shifting Sally so he could do so.
Fritz, Lydia, and Klint joined them within a few minutes, and the sheriff nodded at the judge to begin.
Judge Davis took his gavel and struck the table. Deborah winced, afraid he’d left a mark on the wood. He shuffled the papers in front of him while he spoke. “This is a preliminary hearing to determine how we are to proceed. Sheriff English has informed me of extenuating circumstances and has provided me with a detailed report of all that has occurred.”
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