Abigail fairly quaked in her shoes at the bold audacity of this woman. The nerve of her to be so boldly touching Mr. Stanton in such an intimate way! He fixed his gaze on her.
"I am allowed to eat while I'm doing my penance, aren't I?"
Abigail swallowed her unwanted and unexpected feelings of jealousy. "You can take a break for lunch if it's all right with Mr. Judson."
Turning his head, Mr. Stanton bellowed, "Alex! Is it time for our lunch break?"
Alex? He was already calling Alexander Judson by his given name? Why the day wasn't even half over yet and already he was on familiar terms with his boss. What was it about this man that made everyone in this town want to be his friend, while she so wanted to dislike him?
From in the back of the shop came the mill owner's reply that Cole could take a half-hour lunch break.
"You have to stay within sight of the building, Mr. Stanton." Abigail threw her shoulders back and stood tall, falling back into her sheriff mode.
"We'll be sure to do just that, Sheriff." Taking Miss McCurdy by the elbow, Cole guided her over to a bench under the inviting shade of a big oak tree that sat in the center of town.
Great, just great, Abigail thought, now everyone would see Mr. Stanton having lunch with that woman. Infuriated with herself for even caring, Abigail walked back to the office. She had work to do and the less she saw of the couple the better!
Beneath his beard, Cole grinned. Abigail sure was in a huff over him spending time with Wanda. He enjoyed her reaction to seeing the two of them together. The way the pink blush tinged her cheeks was a sight to behold. He never would have guessed that she'd be one to fall into the old green-eyed monster trap. But it appeared she had and he was glad of it. The sheriff had a soft spot for him; even if she didn't care to admit it.
"Cole, would you like to try some of this baked chicken?" Wanda lifted the lid off a square tin revealing the fragrant meat.
"Don't mind if I do." He was never one to turn down home cooking, even if it was being offered by a she-devil. Winking at her, Cole helped himself to a chicken leg.
Taking a big healthy bite, he marveled at the tenderness and flavor of the meat, savoring every bit of it. Finishing off the last of the piece, he tossed the bone in the grass and turned his attention to the woman sitting next to him. Wanda McCurdy was up to something and Cole had this itching feeling at the base of his neck that it involved him.
He'd had a lot of time to think while being locked up, and several bits of information concerning his arrest weren't adding up. Oh, the description on the Wanted poster fit him all right and he had been in Albany the week the jewelry store was robbed, however, that was where the similarities ended.
The more interesting fact was Wanda being in Albany at the same time. While he'd traveled around a lot over the years, and letting his hair grow out may have made him look like a criminal, he wasn't. He'd a bad feeling about Wanda McCurdy. She very well could have something to do with the theft. Was it really a coincidence the way she just happened to turn up in Surprise?
Cole was going to have to prove his innocence and Wanda was the key. Turning his head, he looked at her, and sent her what was surely one of his most charming smiles.
"So how are you enjoying Surprise?"
"It's an interesting little town." Adjusting the ties on her bonnet, she fixed it on top of her mass of red hair. "More interesting because I found you here."
"Umm. Except I'm here because I can't leave." Shrugging, he added, "You know the pesky little problem I have of being incarcerated?"
"Yes, it is dreadful. I can't believe that woman sheriff can possibly think you are capable of such a thing." She paused, pursing her full lips together and then said, "I can't believe the sheriff is a woman."
"Me neither," Cole quietly admitted.
While Wanda was distracted by her bonnet, Cole looked at her. She was wearing a dress looking like the latest style. The fabric was shiny and new, with nary a wrinkle or stain to be found. And while he thought the hat she was so obsessed with seemed frivolous, upon closer inspection he noticed that it, too, appeared new and wondered if she'd purchased it from a fine haberdashery.
From what he knew about her, Cole thought it improbable that she was able to afford such fineries. It was clear that she'd come to Surprise alone. So it was safe to assume that she didn't have a man escorting her. He thought for a minute on how many months had passed since they'd parted ways and guessed that it was no more than four.
Then, she'd been just another saloon girl with no family to speak of. There was no way she'd earned enough to buy expensive clothes. When and how had she come into so much money?
"Cole?" Her seductive tone broke through his thoughts.
He found her staring at him with an inviting look in her eyes. "Yes, Wanda."
"Do you like my new dress?" She nudged closer to him, their hips bumping together.
He could smell her expensive perfume. "What's the occasion?"
"I think having lunch with you is occasion enough to wear something special."
"Did you buy the dress just to wear it in this onehorse town?"
"No. I purchased it in Albany. You remember that lovely shop on Quail Street? The one on the corner, we used to stroll by on our afternoon walks." She reached out and, laying her hand across his chest, began to finger his shirt buttons.
Taking her hand in his, he pulled it down to his side. "Wanda, while I like your attention, I don't think this is the time or the place to be carrying on."
She looked around then, as if she were startled to find they were sitting out in the open. "Yes, you're right. We wouldn't want to set any more tongues wagging now would we?"
Cole thought they'd probably already done that, seeing how they were sitting under the biggest shade tree in the center of town in clear view. Wives were going about their daily chores while their husbands worked the fields. Behind him he could hear the saws from Judson's lumber yard buzzing through lengths of tree trunks.
In front of him the town sat in two neat rows of buildings. And aiming straight for him, with purpose in every step, was Sheriff Abigail Monroe.
He noticed right away she wasn't smiling. Then he remembered he'd rarely seen her smile. Too bad, she'd such a lovely mouth, one made for smiling and just maybe a little kissing. Preparing for her angry onslaught, he stood bracing his feet apart.
Holding her pocket watch in her hand, Abigail studied it for a moment, looked to the sky as if checking the sun's position and said, "Mr. Stanton, I believe it's time for you to be back at work."
He so wanted to smile at her, but deliberately kept a straight face. "I was just heading that way." Nodding at Wanda, he thanked her for the lunch. "Miss McCurdy, lunch was delicious. Thank you for bringing it by."
"You're very welcome, Cole." Packing up the remnants of their lunch, she turned to Abigail. "Good day, Sheriff." With a quick turn and a flounce of her skirts, she was off.
A warm breeze fanned Abigail's skirts. Such a nice figure for a sheriff, he thought. She was watching Wanda with her brow furrowed together in deep concentration. Cole would have given anything to know what her thoughts were, but didn't dare ask.
Their relationship was tenuous at best.
Her head snapped around and she glared at him. He raised his hands in self-defense. "Hey, don't look at me like that."
"I assume that the two of you are old friends."
Starting to walk back to work, he waited for her steps to fall beside him before commenting. "Wanda and I met in Albany. She was serving drinks at a local saloon."
"I see," she replied, nibbling on her lower lip contemplatively.
"No, you don't." He wasn't about to explain his relationship with Wanda to her. There really was nothing to say, even if he wanted Wanda and maybe Abigail thinking there was.
Raising her eyes to look at him, she said, "Yes, I do. Let me ask you a question, Mr. Stanton. How does a saloon girl come up with enough money to pay for such finery?"
<
br /> With a quick shrug of his shoulders, he replied, "I don't know." He needed to prove his innocence and Wanda was the only one who could help him do that. He didn't trust Abigail with the truth. After all she was the one who'd chased him down and arrested him. He wasn't sure just how far she'd go to uphold the law. Cole could be sitting in the jail until next year.
As much as Abigail's company was growing on him, he didn't think he could last out much longer being locked up in that tiny jail cell. Something was going to have to be done and soon!
"I suspect she didn't come by her money in an honest way."
As they entered the dusty interior of the lumber mill, Cole mulled over her observation. Could it be possible that the sheriff was thinking along the same lines as he was-Miss McCurdy was hiding something?
Then just like a snap of the fingers, as if the conversation they were having never happened, the sheriff turned to him and asked, "What size pants do you wear?"
"I beg your pardon?" What was she up to now, he wondered, placing his hands on his hips as he stared down at her.
"I'll need your shirt size also."
There she was all prim and proper asking him personal questions. Shrugging his shoulders, Cole decided her asking was just another one of the oddities of this town. Not sure where all this would land him, reluctantly he gave her the information.
"Can I get back to work now?"
"Yes, you may."
The afternoon gave Abigail some much needed time to think. At first she'd been so rattled by seeing Cole with that horrible woman she'd barely been able to concentrate. Then the thought dawned on her; if Cole was as innocent as he professed to be, Miss McCurdy could very well hold the key to his freedom.
As she shopped for his clothing, she began to formulate a plan. Abigail instructed Mr. Jules to put the items on her aunt's account and told him that if Lydia showed up, to let her know the purchases had been made.
With the task completed, she stood back looking at the items laid out neatly on the cot and admired the choices she'd made. Two shirts, one a durable blue cotton material and the other white, so that he could wear it to the Sunday dinners that Aunt Margaret still insisted on having. The trousers had been purchased with the same idea in mind, one pair durable and the other a bit dressier.
She'd set the shaving kit on a small stand near the cot, alongside a white porcelain bowl and pitcher. Abigail tried to imagine what Cole would look like with all that hair shaved off, and couldn't.
Returning to her desk, she set about putting it in order. She was placing the pile of Wanted posters in the top drawer when her gaze fell upon the one with Cole Stanton's description. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she wondered again if she might have acted too hastily in arresting him. Once again after studying the paper, she decided he did indeed fit the description.
The door opened letting in a warm afternoon breeze and her prisoner. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him filling the space in the doorway. Abigail wondered at her reaction to him and wished that she could stop it from happening. She'd no business being attracted to such a man.
After all, she was the sheriff and he was a prisoner for goodness sakes! For propriety's sake alone she had to stop this.
"What's for dinner, sweetheart?" Cole drawled, closing the door behind him.
Through clenched teeth and a jaw set hard as granite, she said, "I'm not your sweetheart!" For an instant Abigail thought he'd lost his mind and then she saw the grin beneath his thick beard and realized he was joking. Ignoring his good humor, she shuffled some papers around the desk, determined not to smile back at him.
"I take it you enjoyed the work at the lumber mill?"
"I did." He sauntered across the room towards the cell like he hadn't a care in the world.
She held her breath, for surely by now he'd noticed the items lying on top of the cot. Silence filled the room while she waited for his reaction. It wasn't that long of a wait.
"Sheriff, would you mind stepping over here for a minute?"
Nibbling her lower lip, she stood up and slowly made her way over to him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Stanton?"
He turned so quickly that Abigail was forced off balance. She stumbled against the steel bars, catching herself. His dark eyes widened.
"Yes, there's a problem!" he barked.
He stood toe-to-toe with her, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. It penetrated her clothing, making her feel a tad uncomfortable.
"There's no need to yell, Mr. Stanton."
The skin about his beard reddened. He swallowed and then said, in a softer tone, "What is the meaning of this?" He pointed an accusing finger towards the cot.
"You mean the pants and shirts?"
"Stop acting coy." Hands on his hips he was looking down at her.
Coy? He thought she was acting coy? Abigail didn't think she possessed a coy bone in her body, but come to think of it she rather liked the idea of being coy.
Folding her arms, she countered with, "What did you think I needed your pants and shirt size for, if not to buy you some?"
"Don't you think it's a bit personal to be buying clothing for a man that you barely know?"
"Really, Mr. Stanton, it seemed the proper thing to do. You've been traipsing around in the same clothes for as long as you've been here. I didn't see your traveling bag."
He smirked at her. "For your information, my clothing bag was stolen."
"Hmm. Yes, I do remember someone mentioning that to me."
"Would that someone happen to be your cousin Lydia?"
"As a matter of fact, yes it was."
"Miss Lydia seems to know an awful lot of what goes on around here. She's spunky."
It was one thing to have to contend with his feelings about Miss Wanda McCurdy, but quite another to have him saying such a thing about her cousin. "I was the one who picked them out," Abigail said before she could stop herself.
She didn't like thinking how much she'd enjoyed picking out clothes for him. It was hard enough knowing it mattered Mr. Stanton knew she'd been the one to do it.
There you had it though, in as much as she shouldn't care one way or the other, Abigail wanted to please this man.
He smiled at her remark; a slow languid smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"I'll pay you back once I'm free and working for pay„
"There's no need to do that. Aunt Margaret is taking care of everything."
"Tell her, I'll pay her back." He turned to pick up the white dress shirt and black pants.
Abigail sensed his pride was at stake and acquiesced. "I'll let her know." Several minutes passed before he saw the shaving kit.
"Growing tired of my beard?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.
Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, Abigail wondered what he looked like for real, without all the dark locks of thick hair.
His voice was low when he spoke. "You don't have to say a word, the answer is written all over your face."
"We were just giving you options, Mr. Stanton."
"Hmm, no doubt that was Lydia's idea again."
"Yes. But-"
"I know, I know," he interrupted, "you were the one who picked it out."
Actually, Mr. Jules picked the items out and Abigail didn't see any need for Mr. Stanton to be made aware of that.
"I'll need some hot water."
It was a full minute before she realized what he was implying. Stunned by his quick decision, she asked, "You're really going to shave the beard off?"
"I am. Now hurry up and bring me some hot water before I change my mind," he said with a smile.
Abigail left the cell and went to the stove where a low fire was kept burning to keep her tea water warm. Picking up the copper kettle, she carried it to the cell and poured the steaming water into the washbowl.
"Thank you." Cole was unbuttoning his work shirt when Abigail turned around.
Feeling flustered, s
he said, "I'll just leave you."
Before she could go, he reached out and laid his hand on her wrist, stopping her. "Just one more thing, Sheriff-you and I need to strike a bargain."
His long fingers closed gently around her wrist. Her flesh felt on fire from his touch. "A bargain?" she squeaked.
He laughed. "Yes. If I'm to accept the clothes and shaving kit and actually use the razor, then you have to agree to start calling me by my first name and allow me to do the same for you. Another thing, let's be civil. I'm not such a bad person."
She searched his eyes for any sign of who he really was. Whether or not he was a bad person remained to be seen.
"You want me to call you Cole and you're to call me Abigail, and you'll shave off your beard for that?"
"Correct."
What harm could there be in accepting his terms? They were together for a fair amount of their days anyway. But if she stopped calling him Mr. Stanton then he might not respect her authority. Abigail wasn't sure what to do.
"If I let you call me by my given name will you still respect me as the sheriff?"
"Yes." He gave her wrist a quick squeeze, which she was certain was meant to encourage her, but it had quite a different effect altogether.
The heat from his touch sent her pulse racing so she thought she might swoon. Abigail had to leave before she made a fool out of herself. "You have a deal, Mr. Stanton." She hoped her voice didn't sound as breathy as she felt.
He raised his eyebrows.
"I meant to say, Cole."
"Thank you, Abigail."
Hearing her name come from his lips sent shivers racing down her spine. Never in all the time she'd spent courting Edwin did she ever feel like this. Come to think of it, near the end of their relationship the only thing she'd felt when he called to her, was dread.
This was a far better feeling. She smiled.
"You should do that more often."
WOMEN OF SURPRISE 01: A Surprise For Abigail Page 7
