The Sheriff’s Runaway Bride

by Arlene James

  It wasn’t easy for Vincent to back down, and she well knew of the enmity between his branch of the family and old George’s. As soon as she’d realized the identity of this big man, she’d half expected the situation to devolve to fisticuffs. To “cousin” Zach’s credit, he’d managed to stop Vincent with wit rather than brawn.

  Clearly thwarted, Vincent dithered for a bit before swinging around to stride angrily back toward the church, declaring, “This isn’t over!”

  He shot a vicious glare at her father as he passed. Her dad sighed and shoved a hand through his thinning hair before trudging forward.

  “Kylie, honey,” he said apologetically, “I’m so sorry. I knew that boy was no-account, but you had your heart set on him and—”

  “Oh, Daddy.” She stepped out from behind the deputy to go to her father. “It’s not like that. I—I mean, I was willing to marry him. That is, I thought… It seemed like God’s will at the time, with the business and all.”

  He caught her in his beefy arms and hugged her to him. “Kylie, I tried to tell you that my business with Samuel has nothing to do with you and Vincent.”

  “It’s just that Vincent guaranteed Samuel would buy out your share of the ranch if we married.”

  “Even if that were true,” her father argued, shaking his head, “it wouldn’t be enough to pay off the loan, not with real estate prices falling. God will take care of us, honey. Believe it!”

  “May not be my place to say so,” the deputy spoke up, “but if you’re in business with my great-uncle Samuel, you’ve got enough trouble without bringing Vincent into your family.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that,” her father agreed, putting out a hand. “Gene Jones of Jones Feed & Supply.”

  As he stepped forward to take that hand, the deputy glanced across the green to the feed store on the other side of the tracks north of Railroad Street.

  “Used to be Wilmont’s Feed & Supply back in the day.”

  “We bought him out six, seven years ago.”

  “I was long gone by then. Zach Clayton, Deputy Sheriff.” He tipped his hat to the bride and smiled, displaying a single dimple.

  Oh, my. Vincent was about to be dethroned as the best-looking Clayton around town. “Kylie Jones.”

  “Kylie Jeanne Jones, if I’m not mistaken.”

  She nodded, reaching up with both hands to pluck the combs from her hair and sweep off the veil. Her hair had been rolled up on both sides and pinned at the back of her head with a heart-shaped rhinestone clip, leaving the rest to hang down her back in spiral curls.

  “Would you really have arrested me?”

  “You and Vincent both,” he answered honestly. “If pressed to it.” Grinning, he added, “I think you’d have gotten off. Him too, probably. But the report would’ve gone into the papers just the same.”

  “And you knew Vincent wouldn’t want that.”

  The lawman nodded and said, “You found A.J. Wesson.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’d like to talk to you about that.”

  “Now?” Kylie asked, holding out her satin skirts.

  “You seem to have something more important to do,” he conceded. “But soon. Next week for sure.”

  Dropping her skirts, she sighed. “That’s fine.” She looked to her father, saying, “Right now, I guess one of us better get back to the church and tell everyone that the wedding is off.”

  Gene patted his daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll see to it, honey, while you talk to your mother and sister in private.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry about all this.”

  “It’s just as well, if you ask me. Better to find out he’s unfaithful now than after you’d married him.”

  Kylie nodded, suddenly weary despite the great sense of relief that swept over her. To think that she had very nearly married Vincent Clayton! She felt as if she’d just awakened from a long, confusing dream.

  Lifting her skirts, she began making her way back across the grass, but then she remembered that the new deputy wanted to talk to her about how she’d found A.J. that day. She paused and glanced his way. He was one big, handsome man, all right—but he was also a Clayton, and all the Claytons with whom she had dealt had turned out to be trouble. Nevertheless, this one wore a badge.

  “Our place is out on Waxwing Road,” she told him.

  “I’ll be around.”

  “Okay, then. Oh, and thank you.”

  He doffed his cap. “My pleasure, Miss Jones.”

  She turned to make her way back across the green. She didn’t relish what was to come, but the unspeakable relief that she felt told her that she was doing the right thing. Recalling that she’d recently asked God to settle her doubts for her, she had to smile. Like her mama always said, be careful what you ask for.

  Stepping up into the tiny mudroom of the frame house on Bluebird Lane where he had grown up, Zach set down his luggage and hung his cap on a peg. The house had been closed for several years before his sister Brooke had moved in a few weeks earlier. Her silver Toyota Corolla sat beside his Jeep out in the drive, so presumably he’d find her at home and not next door with her fiancé, Gabe. Zach walked into the kitchen, where he paused beside the long, low, narrow island that served as the breakfast table. Five round-backed chairs flanked it on three sides.

  At one time, there had been six.

  Zach tilted his head, listening. The whir of a hair-dryer came to him from the vicinity of the bathroom off the hallway to his left. Grinning, Zach sauntered in that direction, calling out, “Honey, I’m home!”

  The dryer shut off, clattering in the sink. He jumped back as the bathroom door burst open. He’d learned that trick the hard way as a kid when the sudden opening of the door had caught him square in the face and raised a bump the size of a goose egg on his forehead. He no longer had the goose egg, but it had engendered a family nickname that his sisters still used even now.

  “Lump! You came!” Wearing a bathrobe over shorts and a tank top, she threw her arms around his neck.

  “Hey, Gigglebot.” He returned the greeting by hugging her hard enough to lift her off her feet.

  A swatch of her long blond hair clung damply to one side of her face, and she wore not a speck of cosmetics, but the happiness shining in her blue eyes made her utterly beautiful. Zach smiled.

  Pulling back, she looked him over. “So you did it,” she said. “You took the job as deputy sheriff. Never thought I’d see it.”

  Zach shrugged. “Timing was right.”

  Miami had become untenable for Zach, then suddenly Linden Diggers had retired as deputy sheriff, leaving the satellite office in Clayton vacant. Given that, the absurd stipulation in his grandfather’s will, which required each heir to live a year in Clayton, and Vincent starting to stir up trouble again, Zach had decided to step into old Diggers’ boots for a while, just as his late grandfather had proposed. That the old man had been keeping tabs on him galled Zach, but George Sr.’s taped message to his grandson had proved that he had been well aware of all that had happened in Miami, though Zach had not shared that information with anyone in the family. What good would that do? What mattered now was helping his cousins claim their inheritances, five hundred acres and a quarter million dollars each.

  “You caught me all a mess,” Brooke said, touching her hair self-consciously.

  “I have never seen you looking better,” Zach told her sincerely. “You look…happy.”

  She laughed, that tinkling giggle warming his heart all the way through. “I am.”

  Zach smiled. Before their baby sister Lucy had died, at only two-and-a-half years of age, Brooke had run around the house laughing and singing all the time. Afterward, he’d had to tickle her to hear anything approximating that little girl giggle, but it had never been the same. She’d blamed herself for Lucy slipping out of the house and going to the creek. All these years later, he was beyond grateful to hear that happy, joyous sound
again. It meant that she had forgiven herself at last.

  “He must be quite a guy, this Gabe Wesson.”

  “Oh, he is. I’m getting ready to go out to dinner with him and A.J. Why don’t you come with us? He’s anxious to meet you.”

  I bet he is, Zach thought. Zach had called Gabe for a little man-to-man talk after he’d accused Brooke of being negligent in the disappearance of his young son, who Kylie Jones had found in Vincent’s backyard. Brooke had phoned Zach in tears. In full big-brother mode, Zach had rung up Gabe. Now Brooke and Gabe were engaged, and Zach was prepared to let bygones be bygones, provided Gabe was all he seemed.

  “Just let me shower and change out of these clothes. Diggers left the office a mess, and I’ve been working on it all day.”

  “Take Mama’s room. I cleaned it out for you. That way Viv and I won’t have to share when she gets here.”

  If she gets here, Zach thought, but he didn’t bother saying as much. She would come or she wouldn’t. Same with Mei and Lucas. Still, Brooke had wisely made provision. She and Vivienne had shared a room as girls, but as women they obviously needed a measure of privacy, provided, of course, that Vivienne eventually showed up. But that worry could be left for later.

  “I’ll be ready before you will,” Zach taunted, grinning.

  “True!” Brooke laughed, spinning back into the bathroom.

  Zach smiled to himself. It felt surprisingly good to be home.

  Chapter Two

  He’d known good times here, but tough ones, too, Zach told himself as he carried his luggage to his room, especially when it came to Lucy and his late father. George Jr. and his twin brother Vern, Zach’s uncle, had died in an auto accident when Zach was twenty, some five years after Lucy’s drowning. Zach’s mother, Marion, had followed only a few years ago. After her funeral, Zach had intended never to return here.

  Now, at thirty, he was moving back into the old house. Temporarily. After the required year here, Zach had every intention of heading back to his real life, wherever that might be. He expected that his sister Vivienne and most of his cousins would do the same, especially Lucas, who couldn’t wait to get out of Clayton in the first place and hadn’t even returned for their grandfather’s funeral.

  That reminded Zach that he still hadn’t heard from or about Lucas. He had an old friend with the Florida state police putting feelers out unofficially, but so far he’d learned nothing. Uneasiness prickled the skin on the nape of Zach’s neck, and he sent up a quick prayer that whatever was going on with his younger cousin would be resolved soon and safely. He feared not only for Lucas but also for their cousin Arabella, who lived in Grandpa George’s house with her triplet daughters, Jessie, Julie and Jamie, and her ward, Jasmine Turner. Arabella had taken care of their grandfather for years and deserved to inherit the house, but that would only happen if George Sr.’s other grandchildren gave up a year of their lives to fulfill the terms of the old man’s will. Zach could only pray, for her sake, that everyone could and would.

  Unzipping his bags, he first stowed his personal carry gun in the drawer of the bedside table before quickly unpacking. As he worked, he wondered idly when he would see Kylie Jeanne Jones again. Maybe he’d go out to the Jones place after the Fourth. It seemed likely that she would lay low for a few days after canceling her wedding to one of the town’s most prominent sons.

  Zach couldn’t understand why Kylie had ever agreed to marry Vincent in the first place. All that talk of a buy-out was just so much nonsense. Samuel never parted with a nickel of his own if he could get someone else to do so first. Besides, from what Brooke had told him and what he’d seen already, Vincent hadn’t changed much. Even if Brooke’s fears and suspicions should prove unfounded—and Zach was too good a cop to let his personal prejudices decide the matter for him—Vincent still seemed to be the sly bully that he’d always been.

  After stowing his empty bags in the closet, Zach removed his service gun, holster and belt, tucking them into the top drawer of his mother’s empty dresser. All the while, he considered Kylie Jones.

  She was an attractive little thing, with that waist-length cloud of light-golden-brown curls, those moss-green eyes and perfect lips. He thought of the finely boned shoulders and long slender arms displayed by the strapless wedding gown, the neatly nipped in waist and the flare of the full skirt.

  Attractive? Who was he kidding? She was beautiful, breathtakingly so in her wedding gown. Much too beautiful for the likes of Vincent.

  At least she’d come to her senses in time to save herself. For now. The question was whether she’d stick to her guns or let Vincent wear her down, as he would surely try to do. Vincent didn’t like to lose, even if the “prize” was something he didn’t really want. Zach hoped that Kylie would be smart enough to keep her distance from Vincent, which was probably good advice on his end, too.

  The last thing Zach needed was trouble with Vincent and that side of the family, especially since Vincent’s father Pauley had managed to get himself elected mayor. Thankfully, Zach thought, I answer only to the county sheriff!

  After a quick shower, he changed into comfortable jeans and a simple navy blue T-shirt before performing a fast shave and sweeping his short, ash-brown hair straight back from his brow. He saw that the barber hadn’t quite gotten all of the lighter tips on the top of his head, where the Florida sun had bleached his hair almost blond. That made the contrast between his hair and his darker brows all the more pronounced. No matter. Another trim would take care of it.

  He wondered how soon his tan would fade. Probably not for a few months. He recalled that Kylie Jones had smooth, ivory skin, with just a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Turning off that thought, he pulled on a pair of black cowboy boots. Then he took the compact 9 mm from the drawer in the bedside table and slipped it into the holster hidden in the small of his back, making sure that it was secure and easily accessible. By law, all peace officers were required to carry a handgun when off-duty. It seemed unnecessary around here, but Zach would have felt naked without the thing. And he had learned the hard way how helpless a cop could be without firepower.

  Properly dressed, he went to the kitchen and helped himself to a cold glass of water. Brooke came out of her room a few minutes later dressed in patriotic style, the softly gathered skirt of her red-white-and-blue plaid sundress swirling about her ankles.

  “Come on. Gabe’s waiting!”

  Chuckling, Zach left the glass in the sink and walked his sister next door to meet the man who had put that silly smile on her face.

  Though a wealthy businessman from Denver, Gabe turned out to be unexpectedly down-to-earth. His home displayed a certain tasteful affluence well above the norm around Clayton, but Gabe himself came off as an average guy. The look in his eyes when he welcomed Brooke told Zach that Gabe felt as much for Brooke as she did for him. Best of all, Gabe’s little boy flew into the room and literally threw himself at Brooke’s knees. She lifted him up onto her hip with such fond ease that Zach found himself clearing away a sudden lump in his throat.

  He’d prayed to see Brooke as at ease with a child as she appeared to be with this one. After Lucy’s death, Brooke had vowed never to have children of her own. Now here she stood, rubbing noses with little A.J. and making goo-goo eyes at him while Gabe looked on with fierce pride and obvious love.

  They moved into the living room to visit for a few minutes. Talk centered on the day’s events, starting with Zach’s swearing in that morning and culminating with the breakup of Vincent and Kylie. Though shocking, the news that the wedding had not taken place pleased Brooke.

  “We weren’t invited, of course, being from George’s side of the family, but I couldn’t help wondering if she knew what she was getting into.”

  The two brothers—George Sr., Zach’s grandfather, and Samuel, Vincent’s grandfather—had come to a parting of the ways more than fifty years ago. Sadly, the two sides of the family considered themselves enemies.

  “Kylie was very kin
d that day,” Gabe said, stroking A.J.’s tiny head. The boy had gone missing while in Brooke’s care and been found by Kylie a quarter mile away in Vincent’s backyard.

  Eventually the little party began forming up to leave. “So, where are we going for dinner?” Zach asked.

  Brooke and Gabe looked at each other, then turned as one to him. “To the Cowboy Café. Where else?”

  Zach chuckled. He had thought that they might drive over the mountain to one of the more touristy communities with their review-rated restaurants. Evidently, his little sister had well and truly settled back in Clayton. Leaving town hadn’t even occurred to her.

  Some minutes later—getting a child into and out of a vehicle proved to be more complicated than Zach had realized— Zach followed his sister, Gabe and A.J. into the little café in downtown Clayton.

  The old place hadn’t changed, despite the little American flags peppering the place. A couple hands from the ranches outside of town turned on their stools at the counter running down one side of the long, narrow room to see who had come through the door. Others sitting at the rustic tables crowded into the front of the room looked up to wave or nod as a raucous country and western tune blared from the jukebox near the door.

  Gabe and Brooke chose a table in one corner near the antique cash register at the end of the counter, helping themselves to a battered booster seat along the way. While they settled A.J., Zach shook hands with an old schoolteacher who had recognized him. He’d barely put his backside to the chair when a slender dervish in skinny blue jeans and a red T-shirt plunked down glasses of water, including a plastic cup with a lid for the toddler. The long, golden-brown braid hanging down her back swung across her shoulder as she bent to bring her face close to A.J.’s.

  “Hi, sweetie! How are you? Gerald’s made up some mac and cheese that you ought to love.” She tapped the tip of his nose with a bare, neatly trimmed fingernail and straightened. “Meatloaf to go along with it for the rest of you, if you’re interested.”