She pushed her spectacles up on her nose and shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine, Sheriff.”
He should have his mind on Packett and where that money came from, but hearing her say Sheriff after their last conversation about names bothered him. He’d been rolling Amy around in his head ever since he’d left Maddie. Funny, he’d never had any trouble saying her name.
“Do you suspect, perhaps, Mr. Packett stole the money?” she asked.
“I find it mighty strange he’s erratic on his loan payments for months and months and now, all of a sudden, he pays off the whole note. I’ll send some telegrams out, see if there’s been trouble anywhere around. Robberies and the like.”
Of course, he supposed Packett could have taken a train somewhere, committed a robbery, then come back. Or maybe, he simply sold something. But he would have to know paying off the mortgage would make some folks suspicious. Dent had a sense about men, and Tom Packett was a tough customer. He was capable of all sorts of meanness ... and Amy had thought about coming out here alone.
He stole a sideways peek at her. She had a kind of cute up-turned nose, and a rosy flush to her cheeks from the cold. Hair the color of melted caramel swirled gently around her shoulders. “Coming out here to check on Israel was pretty ...” He almost said stupid. And it was, but it was also something else. “Brave. Not the best idea, but brave. You’re getting ...?” he faded off, not sure how to ask.
“Getting better? Braver?” She traced the flowers in her dress. “I think so. I love my students. They are so full of energy and innocence. I don’t know how to explain it, but they bring me peace.”
He studied her more directly and nodded. “I can see that.” She met his gaze and they both half-smiled at each other. “About calling you … ‘Amy’; is that offer still good?”
Her smile transformed to a wide, welcoming grin. “Absolutely.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Amy’s pleasure at Dent saying her first name pleased him as they rode the last two miles to Packett’s place … and vexed him. It’s just a name …
Yet, he liked saying it. She liked hearing it.
As they topped the hill overlooking the small ranch, he reminded himself sternly to focus on things at hand. Smoke poured from a mud-and-twig chimney, and, in the twilight, an amber light glowed from one window. The horse’s hooves and jangling harness announced their arrival, and Dent made no attempt to quiet either. Before he could pull the rig to a halt, Packett appeared on the porch, again holding the shotgun.
“What are you doing here, lawdog?”
Dent clenched his jaw, determined not to let this scum goad him into a fight, not yet. “We came to check on Israel. Miss Tate here said he wasn’t in school today.”
“He’s done with that foolishness. I need him around here to fix up the place.”
“Yeah, speaking of ...” Dent scanned the house and yard. Something was different about the ranch, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “I heard you paid off your mortgage. Where’d you get the money? You steal it?”
A slow sneer lifted the man’s lip. “No, I didn’t. Israel,” he called over his shoulder. “Come out here, boy.”
Dishes clattered inside then Israel stepped outside and stood beside his father. His attention riveted on Amy. “Evening, Miss Tate.”
“Israel, I missed you in school today.”
“Well, I—” the boy shifted uneasily.
Packett motioned with the shotgun. “Tell these fine folks,” his voice dripped with sarcasm, “I did not steal the money to pay off our mortgage.”
“N-no,” Israel stammered, “Pa didn’t steal it. That’s the truth, Sheriff Hernandez.”
Dent sagged a little. He didn’t like Tom Packett. Not one ounce. Israel was covering for him, too, but he wasn’t sure how exactly. Something just felt wrong here, but that didn’t change the fact there was nothing Dent could do. “Israel, your pa can’t beat you like he did. You could press charges.”
Israel took a step forward. “No sir, I can’t do that.” He shook his head. “I mean, I won’t do that.”
Dent refrained from sighing, but it took effort. He’d known the answer before he’d asked it.
“Israel, I hope to see you in school Monday. Your reading was progressing so w—”
“I said he’s done with that foolishness.” Tom Packet stomped to the edge of his porch. “Now, get off my land and don’t come back.”
“Please, Miss Tate. Leave,” the boy implored her with a tense expression.
Amy sighed and leaned back, admitting defeat?
Dent studied the yard and ramshackle home one more time, unable to pin down what bothered him exactly. “We’ll leave. But men like you always give the law a reason to come back. Lay another hand on that boy, and I’ll be out here faster than you can blink.” He raised the reins, ready to snap them. “And I’ll find something to arrest you for.”
The buckboard rumbled and bounced its way down the dirt road as twilight slowly died to full dark. A handful of lights glittered in the distance, letting Amy know the town wasn’t too far away. The empty expanse of rolling hills and treeless plains could have frightened her, perhaps would have under different circumstances, but her heart was too full of pain for Israel.
She was upset about the boy’s situation, but she couldn’t help being impressed by Dent’s promise to deal with Packett if he touched his son again.
“I guess that was no way to start an evening out with a pretty lady.”
Amy wiggled her fingers, the cold sinking in from sitting still too long. “Actually, Dent,” she smiled at the way his name rolled off her tongue, “I was thinking about how you tried to help Israel.”
Dent heaved a great sigh and shook his head. “But he won’t let me help him. And he won’t help himself. That father of his is going to drag him down with him.”
“He was coming to class every day, and I was tutoring him. He was doing so well. He wants more out of life than his current prospects offer.”
“That may be true, but he’s got to keep making good choices. If he really wants a better life, Amy, he has to get out from under his pa ... and stay away from people like him.”
Amy cut into a huge chicken pot pie dripping with steaming broth that ran quickly off the ladle. “Oh, hurry, give me your plate.” Dent obliged and she served him a heaping helping of Milly’s Friday night special.
“Mmmm,” he hummed, inhaling. “That sure smells good.”
Amy filled her own plate then bowed her head and said a quick blessing. When she opened her eyes, she discovered Dent staring at her. “What?”
He reached for his fork and acted nonchalant. “I was thinking what a shame Israel didn’t have a ma like you.”
The statement stunned Amy, and she felt the blush spread over her cheeks. “You don’t even know me that well.”
“I have a good sense of people.” He stabbed a piece of chicken and swirled it in the golden sauce. “Some bring good things into the world, most don’t. If I asked you what’s your favorite thing in the world, you’d probably say ...?”
“Books.”
“And Tom Packett would probably say something like a fast horse and a faster woman—oh, that was crass. My apologies.” Crimson colored his cheeks. “Doc was right. I’m pretty out of practice at making polite conversation.”
“Then we’ll practice.”
She grinned at him, and, after a moment of debate, he returned it. “All right.”
“Then tell me, what is your favorite thing in the world?”
The humor faded from his face and his attention drifted.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Obviously, I said something wrong.”
“No,” he waved his fork at her, went back to his pie. “Memories. Memories are my favorite thing. Fishing with my pa, my ma’s last birthday before she passed.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been, losing your parents, espe
cially so close together …”
He stared at his coffee cup for a moment before reaching for it. “Losing Ma because of a snake bite, that was one thing. Snakes bite. They’re not evil. They don’t seek you out and try to take your life and your property. The men who shot my father, on the other hand, have to face justice, and I’ll find ’em … or die trying.”
Amy licked her lips, wondering if she should push this, but she could see it in his eyes what Susan feared. Dent was losing himself to hate. “Dent,” she said softly, “do you think that’s what your parents would want? Avenging your father’s death won’t bring him back.”
His fork slowed, but then picked up speed again. “Maybe not, but I can make a difference in this world with a badge. I like being a lawman.”
She discovered something encouraging in his words. “Because you want to help people? Like Israel.”
He set his fork down and wiped his mouth, but kept the napkin scrunched in his hand. “It’s been said I’m too quick to pull a trigger. The way I see it, I’ve had the good fortune to be the last man standing when some bad men made some bad decisions.” He took a sip of coffee. “I want to find the men who killed my pa. And if some low-lifes meet justice in the process …” He shrugged. “That’s not very noble, I suppose, but it’s the truth.”
“What if you never find the men who killed your father?”
Before he could answer, Jim and Sarah Harper, two of her students’ parents, strolled by, but stopped when they saw her. “Oh, Miss Tate,” Sarah touched Amy on the shoulder, “we wanted to thank you for the note about Lydia’s issues. We’ve had her eyes checked, and she does need glasses. Thank you.”
“Well, I’m so glad you addressed my concerns and we have a solution now.”
“Sheriff,” Jim stuck his hand out to Dent. “Jim Harper. My wife, Sarah. Thank you for joining us here in Evergreen.”
“Oh,” Dent wiped his hand on his napkin and accepted the shake. “Uh, thank you for having me.”
“We will miss Ben greatly, but a feisty new sheriff like you will certainly keep the riff-raff out of town.” Jim winked, as if the plan was foolproof.
“Yes, the riff-raff.”
Tension around his mouth made Amy think poor Dent wanted to crawl under the table.
“Well, I’ll do my best,” he promised the Harpers with, she guessed, strained enthusiasm.
Sarah clutched Jim’s arm, pushing him onward. “Have a lovely evening then, you two.” Her husband nodded good-bye and moved on.
Amy fiddled with her glasses to hide a smile. “Not used to that?”
“To what?”
“A simple thank-you.”
“No, I usually hear cursing and screaming.”
Amy chuckled softly, but remembered her question. “So, have you thought about the possibility you might never find your father’s killers?”
Dent tapped his index finger on the edge of his plate. “I will. I have to.”
“Then what? Will you stay a lawman?”
He thought a long moment before answering. “The fact that I am not afraid to pull a trigger makes me a better lawman than a lot of the officers out there. We live in a dark world, Amy, where most men have evil intentions. I reckon I’ll keep huntin’ ’em. Like I said, I’m good at it.”
We do live in a dark world, and he can’t see any light, Lord. He needs to see Your light. He needs ... She couldn’t quite think of the word. Then it hit her. Innocence. He needs something in his life that is still brimming with hope and promise, Father.
It occurred to her that she might have just the right thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dent removed his hat, and slipped into an empty desk at the back of Amy’s classroom. How had she talked him into this?
Their eyes met over numerous bobbing heads and waving hands and she smiled. “Class, I have a special treat for you today. We have been discussing government. How the government represents us. The people who work in the government work for we the people. I’d like you to meet one of your employees.” She motioned for Dent to come forward. He stood, and the room was filled with gasps and squeals as the children watched him. “Meet U.S. Marshal, Dent Hernandez.”
Dent started forward, amazed how he could feel the twenty or so eager children eying him, studying the .45 on his hip.
“We call him Sheriff Hernandez for now because he’s working for Evergreen until we have a replacement for Sheriff Hayes.”
Dent marched up and stood beside Amy, ducking his chin at the class. “Howdy.”
“What do we say?” she asked.
All the children wriggled out of their seats and stood beside their desks to speak in unison, “Good Morning, Sheriff Hernandez.”
“All right, class, take your seats.” Amy stepped a few feet away from Dent to give him the stage. “Why don’t we start with questions? Is that all right with you, Sheriff?”
The hands flew up like rockets, and Dent had to chuckle. “Sure.” He pointed at a little girl with bright red hair and thick spectacles, sitting in the front row. “You.”
“How long have you been a U.S. Marshal?”
“For eight years.”
Then a barrage of voices unleashed, tumbling over one another. “Have you ever been shot?” “How many times?” “Have you ever been stabbed?” “How many times?” “Can we see your gun?”
Dent skillfully calmed the class and answered each question with patience and humor. The more he talked, the closer the children leaned in, enthralled with his stories. Amy sat down at her desk and hid a smile behind her hand.
“Who’s the biggest outlaw you ever brung in?”
“Brought,” Amy corrected.
“Frank Darnell and his gang?”
“How’d you catch ’em?”
The back-and-forth went on and on, until, Manuel Lopez raised his hand and asked, “How many men have you killed?”
The glow left Dent’s face. He pulled back from the class a little. Amy leaped to her feet. “I think that is enough questions for now, don’t you think, Sheriff? We’ve certainly kept you long enough. I’m sure there are some ruffians in town who need arresting.” The class giggled.
“Not in Evergreen,” Manuel muttered.
“Well, it’s been my pleasure,” he said to the class then he winked at Amy. “And thank you, Miss Tate. I did enjoy this.” He sounded pleasantly surprised.
Dent grabbed his coat from the hook and slipped it on outside. Standing on the school’s stoop, he breathed in the scent of pines blanketing the quiet, peaceful, nearly crime-free haven of Evergreen … the town in which he had just spent an hour talking to children.
Children.
This time last year, almost to the day, he and Marshal Tyrell Ridge had hunted down and captured Cherokee Bob and Ned Salter in Utah, after a long and bloody shoot-out.
And today he had been the guest speaker in a classroom. Of children.
He slid his hat on and shook his head. The worst part was he was kind of ... glad about it.
Amy stared into the fire, her mind still in the classroom with Dent rather than here at home, the dozen or so book reports in her lap. She smiled, recalling the way he’d drawn the children in with his stories, their faces alight with excitement, his alight with humor.
Her thoughts drifted to the way his dark hair curled a little right behind his ears, and turned up at his collar. And she wondered how he’d gotten a tiny scar, slightly below and to the left of his bottom lip.
A knock on her door nearly jolted her out of the rocking chair. She sprang to her feet, and the book reports scattered at her feet.
“Miss Tate, I mean Amy, it’s me, Dent.”
Her heart lunged to a wild speed, not out of fear, now, but excitement. “Just a moment.” She bit her lips to add a little color to them, assumed her cheeks were pink enough, and hurried to the door. A swirl of little snowflakes followed him inside. “Oh, it’s snowing? It’s only Octo
ber.”
“Flurries,” he said, pulling off his gloves. “Probably won’t stick.”
“Can I get you some coffee? I have some on the stove.”
“Yes ma’am, I sure could do with a cup.”
“Please make yourself at home.”
He peeled out of his coat and laid it across the back of a chair while Amy poured two cups.
“Say, what happened here? Everything all right?” He walked over to the mess she’d left of the book reports.
“That’s nothing. I was grading them by the fire. Your knock startled me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He immediately bent down and gathered up the papers. When he stood again, she was holding his coffee. They traded items, and she walked the papers over to her kitchen table. From behind her, he said haltingly, “We … missed you at supper tonight.”
Amy couldn’t stop a silly grin. She picked up her own coffee and joined him by the fire. “Sometimes teachers have homework too.” She let her eyes travel from his square jaw, covered in a little razor stubble, to his hat. He realized his mistake, snatched it off, and let her take it from him. She hung it on the hook at the door and kept her back to him for a moment. “So, what brings you by this evening?”
“Well, I guess you could say I’ve gotten into such a habit of walking you home, I felt like I ought to check on you.”
She turned slowly and assessed him over the top of her glasses. “Ought to?” she dead-panned. “That’s very commendable.” But it wasn’t. She didn’t want to be a burden. She wanted him to want to come by, and not in the peace-officer sense.
He chuckled and scratched his nose.
“Did I say something funny?”
“No.” He grinned sideways, a most adorable smile that made Amy’s breath catch in her chest. “You just have this way of eyin’ me sometimes, over the top of your spectacles. Like you approve of me ... and you don’t, at the same time.”
Hang Your Heart on Christmas: A Clean & Inspirational Western Historical Romance (The Brides of Evergreen Book 1) Page 10
