He laughed. "We'll add both. I've got some miner's blankets in the back. They're none too soft, but they're warm and they keep away the moisture" He leaned close. "For what it's worth, ma'am ... Being on the town council, I know your salary, and I don't think we're paying you enough as it is. Which makes this all the more kindhearted of you:"
"Not at all, Mr. Mullins. I've been very blessed by my time here in Timber Ridge, and I appreciate the opportunity to give a portion of that back"
A shadow crept over his face. "You make it sound like your time here might be drawing to a close:"
Wishing she hadn't spoken so freely, she also knew it was true. People had to be wondering if she would leave. "None of us knows what the future holds, do we, Mr. Mullins?"
He held her gaze, his features more reflective now than amused. "No, ma'am, we don't. So we best make the most of every day we're given. I'll see that Charlie gets this delivered to Little Italy this afternoon:"
Thanking him, Molly turned.
"One more thing, Dr. Whitcomb:" Ben gestured for her to wait and returned a minute later with an envelope in his hand. "For you;' he said, his tone more businesslike than usual.
Molly eyed the envelope with her name penned neatly on the front, then fingered the bulge at the bottom. She looked at Ben, but he merely shrugged as if he knew nothing. But his expression hinted at just the opposite.
She moved off to the side, slid open the edge of the envelope, and pulled out a single sheet of stationery. Seeing the sender's name, her stomach did funny little somersaults.
Dear Molly,
We haven't seen each other much in recent days, but you've never been far from my thoughts. If you're still open to receiving my company, I'd like to come to your cabin on Saturday evening and fix us dinner. I don't want you to do a thing. I hope you'll be there.
With affection most friendly,
James
P.S. Here's a little something until then.
Molly peeked inside the envelope, and giggled. And smiled as she walked from the store, sucking on a sugar stick.
"Good day, Mrs. Doctor Molly Whitcomb!"
Without looking behind her on the boardwalk, she knew who it was. She slipped the candy from her mouth as she turned. "Good day, Mr. Tolliver" She hadn't seen him in a while, nor had she heard from him, which suited her fine. She'd been curious to see his resort, but since Angelo had told her he wasn't working there anymore, that desire had slipped in importance.
Tolliver's telling glance at her midsection said he'd heard her latest news. An almost comical grin edged up the corners of his mouth. "I hear you're in rather ... full health these days, madam:'
She gave him a sideways look. "I'm feeling quite well. Thank you for your genuine feeling of concern:"
"Oh, my feelings are genuine" He quirked a brow. "They simply lean more toward surprise in this instance. You have considerably more mystery to you than I first judged, which I find to be a most compelling character trait:"
That observation sat ill within her. "I'll choose not to take that as a compliment:"
He frowned. "Well, that's indeed a pity. Because it was meant as one, I assure you:" A sardonic grin lit his face.
Eager to be rid of his company, Molly thought of a way to hurry that along. Perhaps it would even put this man in his place. "I hope you're still on schedule to make your grand opening in January, Mr. Tolliver. I know how hard you've worked and how eager you are to show off your resort'
All mirth fled his expression, as expected. "With the recent snows, that's not looking favorable ... as you're no doubt aware, Dr. Whitcomb:"
Already having heard as much, Molly mimicked his frown from before. "Well, that's indeed a pity, Mr. Tolliver:" With a smile, she turned and continued down the boardwalk, sugar stick in her mouth.
James slammed the cell door and locked it, ignoring the string of expletive-loaded threats the two miners inside hurled at him. One of the men grabbed at him through the bars, and James caught his forearm and wrenched it back. "Try that again and I'll break it next time:"
The miner glared but held his tongue.
James walked back into the office, dabbing at the corner of his mouth and still tasting blood. The miner who'd just tried getting at him again had put up a good fight. The fellow was younger and outweighed him and had gotten in a solid blow to his mouth before James had subdued him. The guy was accustomed to fighting; that was clear. It had been quite a while since James had been in a scuffle like that. It reminded him of days long gone, when he was faster-and younger.
Deputy Willis slumped on a bench, his head down.
James eased himself into his desk chair, his shoulder sore, but not as sore as it would be tomorrow. "You okay, Willis?"
The deputy didn't look up. "They said they'd come in peaceable:"
"They lied:" James sighed. "Folks have a tendency to do that when they're in a tight spot:"
Slowly Willis raised his head, and James saw the shiner already forming around his right eye.
"Oh.. " James tried not to smile-too much. "Why don't you go on home and let Mary see to that? Stanton's taking the night shift. I won't be here much longer:"
Willis stood, looking steady enough on his feet but lacking his normal swagger. "The mayor will be happy, at least:"
James pulled a kerchief from his pocket and held it to his mouth. Stubborn cut wouldn't stop bleeding. Davenport wanted the rustlers caught, and they'd caught them. Two of them, at least. "He'll be happy for a while, Willis. A short while. Then something else will come up, and your tail-and mine-will be on the line again. That's all part of it. When things are going well in a town, when things are quiet, the sheriff's office is doing a fine job. But when things go bad, whether we could have prevented what happened or not, the sheriff's office gets blamed. Better get used to it:"
"So tell me again, Sheriff... Why is it you do this job?"
James rolled his neck from side to side. "Because I care about the people of this town, and about right winning over wrong. I do it because I think I can make a difference for the better. Same as you can. And same as you will, if you're elected sheriff next spring:"
Willis stared at him, then gave a gentle shake of his head. "I'm not sure I want it"
"Some days.. " James smiled. "I'm not sure I do either. Now go on and see to your wife. How much longer does she have?"
Willis got that look he always did when talking about his soon-tobe-born son or daughter. `About a month, give or take, the doc says:'
"Well, you tell Mary for me that Rachel said she can hardly wait to hold and love on that baby."
Willis briefly closed his eyes. "Her and me both, Sheriff. Her and me both:"
A while later, relieved by Deputy Stanton, James saddled Winsome and made a scheduled stop by the store to pick up items he'd ordered. Ben had them at the ready, along with an encouraging grin that James all but ignored. Mullins hadn't said a thing when he'd left his note for Molly a couple of days ago. But he didn't have to.
Ben could be merciless in his kidding when he wanted to be. And he didn't even have to say anything half the time. He managed it with just a look, which James enjoyed but didn't let on that he did. It was all part of the back and forth between them.
He rode on to Molly's, hoping she'd be there.
If she wasn't, and he returned home early, Rachel might not let him in the house. When he'd told his sister he might not be back until later, then shared the reason, she'd beamed. He'd missed being with Molly, more than he probably should have, given the circumstances. But the extra time he'd spent with Kurt in recent days seemed to be helping-at least Rachel thought it was. He loved that little guy, ornery as he could be at times.
And he had some good news to give Molly from the town council too. At least he hoped she'd see it as good news. He did, when compared to what Davenport had wanted to do. The only thing keeping Davenport from dismissing her immediately was the benefit he hoped to receive from the attention of educators in Denver.
The scantly warm sun flirted with the western peaks, and a fresh fall of snow blanketed the mountains, turning the world to white. For as long as he lived, he didn't think he'd ever get enough of this country. It was inside him now, and he doubted he'd ever leave. November was still a good week and a half away, but winter had made its arrival, bold and unyielding, which boded for hard months ahead.
He had taken a supply of firewood and food staples out to Little Italy earlier in the week. When loading it up, nearly a wagonful, it had seemed like a lot. But when divided among the number of families, it had seemed far too little an offering. He thought about the story he'd read to Kurt and Mitch last night from the Bible, the one about the boy with the scant loaves and fishes and how-with that littlest portion-God had fed thousands. He prayed God would somehow see fit to multiply his efforts and would provide the families what they needed. Before it was too late.
Nearing Molly's, he passed the school building and glimpsed a shadow in the window. He slowed Winsome's pace, wondering if the fading light was playing tricks on his eyes. But no-there it was again. He glanced at the cabin across the field to find a curl of smoke rising from the chimney. Molly was home. So ... who was inside the school?
The door to the schoolhouse opened and a person walked out, followed by two others. Boys. James nudged Winsome in that direction, just wanting to make sure everything was all right.
When he got closer and saw who it was, his gut told him the boys weren't up to any mischief. But seeing them together concerned him, with knowing how the town council had reprimanded Molly for teaching Angelo, and with being able to guess Hank Bolden's reaction should he see his son, Billy, befriending these two particular boys. Not to mention what Billy's uncle, the illustrious mayor, would say.
Billy Bolden was the first to look up. "Sheriff?"
The other two boys turned.
"Evening, boys. How are you?"
"Fine, Sheriff," they said in unison, Angelo's greeting bearing a thick accent.
James saw them each carrying a book, so guessed what they'd been up to. "Dr. Whitcomb hasn't run out of books for you to read yet, has she?"
Elijah laughed, his smile bright. "No, sir, but she will soon. Mrs. Ranslett's already written her father in Washington about sendin' us more:'
James rested his arms on his saddle horn. "That's a fine thing for her to do. And my guess from her father's past response is that he'll be sending boxes of them before the year's out:"
The boys smiled at each other.
Elijah nudged Billy in the side. "Maybe Mrs. Ranslett's father will send more of those women books. Billy read that one and liked it"
"Women books?" Angelo's brief question made James smile.
Billy shoved Elijah back, grinning. "You read that one too! You said you even got choked up:"
"Did not!" Elijah said, but the way he ducked his head said otherwise.
James laughed along with them, remembering what it was like to be a boy, and telling himself again that he needed to read that "women book;' especially it being a favorite of Molly's.
Angelo stepped forward. "Thank you, Sheriff McPherson"-he spoke slowly but clearly-"for what you bring my family ... this week:"
"You're welcome, Angelo. It was my pleasure." James reined Winsome toward Molly's cabin. "You boys be careful, and stay out of trouble:" He said it with a grin, while part of him was very serious. Not that they would seek trouble. His fear was that trouble might seek them.
He guided Winsome up the path and smiled when he saw the curtain push back from the window and Molly's head appear. Frost covered the glass pane, so he couldn't see her expression. But that she'd been watching for him was a good sign.
He dismounted and tethered Winsome on the side of the cabin where the horse would be sheltered from the wind. Then he shouldered the saddlebags full of ingredients. That Molly had lied to him still stung, but after taking inventory of his own life in recent days, he'd noticed a fair number of discrepancies. He was far from perfect, and to continue down the path his feelings for her were leading him and not tell her about his past would be false.
A Southern woman like Molly, of fine breeding from an honorable heritage, with an honorable family name, deserved to know the truth. Even if it might change her view of him, which made the mere thought of the beef stew he planned to make sit ill.
But tonight was a time for mending. A time to put things back in place for them both. His feelings for her hadn't changed. If anything, they'd deepened in past weeks. He didn't know where her feelings were for him now, but he hoped to know more, after tonight.
He climbed the porch stairs, unable to imagine Molly Whitcomb not being in his life. And when she opened the door, one thing became clear. As long as he had breath in his body and she had that spark in her eyes when she saw him, no way was he letting her get back on that train.
37
ames pointed to her empty bowl. "You're sure you liked it?"
Molly smiled, hearing a rare touch of uncertainty in his voice. "Liked it? I had two bowlfuls, James. And I would've eaten a third, but I wanted to maintain some semblance of decorum"
He sighed, sitting across from her at her tiny kitchen table. "That won't ever be a problem for you, Molly."
She sipped her tea, grateful things were more comfortable between them again. Conversation came with little prompting, similar to the ease they'd shared before she had confessed to being with child, though the topics hadn't strayed into anything overtly personal just yet.
She'd looked forward to this time with him since receiving his note yesterday, but wasn't about to fool herself into believing that this dinner was about anything other than mending a friendship. A cherished and treasured friendship, but that was all it would be. James McPherson would never allow his heart to lead him in a direction where his honor and integrity could not follow, which made her unacceptable for him. And, unfortunately, made him more attractive to her.
"That looks like it would hurt:" She indicated the cut on his lip.
He shrugged, his gaze thoughtful. "It doesn't ... much:"
He'd told her about what had happened with the miners that afternoon, and it brought closer to home what he must face day to day as the sheriff of Timber Ridge. Rachel had said she sometimes worried about him, and no wonder. Molly was grateful he hadn't been hurt any worse, and that the rustlers had been caught. Now the incidents should stop, which would lessen the pressure he was under.
She summoned her most formal tone. "I'll make some coffee and we can retire to the parlor:" Smiling, she gestured to the sofa three feet away and started to stand.
"Not just yet:" He gestured for her to wait. "First, I've got something to tell you. And I think it's good news, everything considered:"
"From the town council?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "Davenport received a telegram this morning, from the men who came to observe your classroom. They were very impressed, Molly. Both with you and your students. They'd like to send another group to observe your work. This time, a group of teachers:"
She wasn't sure which pleased her more. The news, or the tender pride in his voice.
"Along with that, the town council is asking you to continue teaching until the Christmas program you've got planned. Then they'll close the school until they can find another teacher, which hopefully, for the children's sake, won't be long. Though you're leaving awfully big shoes to fill, Dr. Whitcomb:"
Molly smiled, appreciating him while contemplating the news. She sorted through the weeks ahead, thinking about the progression of her pregnancy along with all she wanted to accomplish before her final day of teaching. The Christmas program was mid-December. Her baby wasn't due until the first of February, so she would have to find some other place to live during the interim. That was doable. Under the circumstances, she considered the council's decision most generous. "I'm grateful to you, James, for all you've done to work this out for me. I know your hand was in it:"
He shook his head
. "This is due almost entirely to your own merit, Molly. And the fact that Ben Mullins is one feisty cuss when you get him riled:"
She laughed along with him.
"And now.. " A gleam lit his eyes. "How about some dessert?"
"You're making dessert too?" She'd been craving sweets, but since she hadn't seen any ingredients for dessert, she'd assumed it wasn't part of the night's menu.
I didn't forget your sweet tooth." A sheepish look came over his face. "As I remember, Rachel started wanting more sweets about now when she was carrying the boys:"
Molly's cheeks warmed at his mention of her baby, and at the attention he was showing her. "The same thing is happening to me;' she said softly.
"Well, I aim to remedy that. For a while anyway." A wry grin tipped his mouth. "It's time for some homemade Colorado ice cream:"
Her mouth watered. "Ice cream? Really?"
He laughed. "Do you have a bowl?"
She grabbed one from the cupboard and followed him outside to the porch.
"Stay here;" he said, and strode out a few feet from the cabin and scooped several handfuls of snow into the bowl. He stamped his feet before returning inside. "I've got some milk and honey in my saddlebags there:"
She found them and met him at the table.
He picked up a spoon. "I'll stir while you add just a touch of milk and a little honey. But we'll have to hurry because it melts fast:"
Molly added enough milk to make it smooth, then added some honey. And more honey. And a little more honey. "I like mine sweet," she whispered, feeling him staring at her from the side.
I gathered that:" Once he stirred it together, he dipped the spoon and held it out. "You take the first bite:"
She did and closed her eyes at the cold, smooth sweetness of it. "Oh ... why have you not told me about this before?" She did her best to hide her smile. "But where's your bowl?"
Beyond This Moment Page 35
