Allison looked at him, wondering what it would be like to be loved by a man who still missed you after so many years. “That makes sense. Most men would probably handle things the same way. And Cilla’s comment fits with something she said yesterday.”
“What’s that?” He took another swallow of coffee.
“She said that she stepped on my glasses because she was standing up for Brady. After I thought about that awhile, I realized that almost every time she gets into trouble, it’s after Brady and I have had some sort of exchange about his schoolwork. I believe one reason she acts out is to take my attention away from her brother.”
Colt looked dumbfounded. “She’s always been protective of him, so that makes a strange sort of sense,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes I think she’s trying to take the place of her mother.”
While Allison tucked that bit of information into a corner of her mind to ponder later, he explained how Cilla was feeling sorry for herself over not having a mother to instruct her in the ladylike pursuits her schoolmates enjoyed.
“She also told me they tried to wreck my relationships because they’re afraid a stepmother might take me away from them, and a new wife will have children that I will love more than I do them.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I assure you I’m quite serious,” he said. “Where do they come up with all these strange notions?”
“Never having had children, I couldn’t say.”
“I may as well tell you that she has a problem with you, too.”
“Me?” Allison’s shock was apparent. “What sort of problem can she possibly have with me? It isn’t as if you’re looking at me as a candidate to become their stepmother.” A rush of color flooded her cheeks the instant the words left her lips.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he replied, his agreement blunt and crisp. “Uh, Cilla says you’re too...happy all the time.”
Allison’s jaw dropped. Amused despite the confession, she shook her head and a totally unexpected and unprofessional giggle escaped her. “Well, that’s one for the books.”
“Here you go!” Ellie said, setting a plate piled high with a mouthwatering array of breakfast goodies in front of Colt and a piece of dry toast and a single soft fried egg in front of Allison.
She eyed his plate of eggs, ham, grits, biscuits and a small bowl of gravy with an expression of pure envy. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a real breakfast? She glanced at Colt and saw that in complete contrast to his earlier grim seriousness, there was the barest hint of a smile in his eyes.
“I tried to tell you.”
A yearning sigh escaped her, but not for the food this time. No doubt about it, the man could be potentially fatal to a lady’s heart!
Get hold of yourself, Allison Grainger. Every single woman in town would agree that he’s attractive. Most of those same women have been dated by him and nixed by his children, so just stop drooling over him like a dog over a ham bone and get back to the business at hand.
Gathering the remnants of her scattered wits, Allison forced a prim smile and picked up her knife and fork.
“I’d be glad to share.”
“No, thank you.” She gave a quick mental thank-you for her food, took a small bite of the egg and chewed slowly. She wasn’t sure why, but she hated eating in front of people she didn’t know, especially men.
“I’m not sure what I can do about my...irritating happiness,” she said after washing down the bite of egg with another sip of coffee. “Except for a few years after losing someone I loved very much, I’ve more or less always tried to have a positive outlook, no matter what came my way. I believe with all my heart that God bestows so many blessings on us that we ought not whine and sulk or be angry when difficulties do crop up.”
“And what about your behavior when you came into my office yesterday?”
Her guilty gaze flew to his. Oh, dear! She hoped this conversation would not decline into another shouting match. To her eternal thankfulness, she saw that he was not provoking her at all. In fact, the expression in his eyes held more curiosity than challenge.
“I was afraid you’d bring that up,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can’t apologize enough. It was not at all like me.”
“I believe you.” The simple acknowledgment made, he asked, “Perhaps I’m prying, but who was it that you loved and lost?”
“My fiancé.”
The shock on his face might have been comical if it hadn’t hurt so much to realize that he seemed surprised that she had caught the attention of any man.
“Believe it or not, Sheriff, some men look beyond the exterior of a woman.”
Once more, discomfiture flushed his rugged features.
“I’m well aware of that, Miss Grainger. All men should do the same. It’s just that Ellie never mentioned anything about you having had a man in your life. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
She regarded him for several seconds. The last thing she wanted was for Colt Garrett to feel sorry for her.
“I do, actually,” she told him. “It’s something I seldom talk about.”
He nodded in understanding and returned his attention to his breakfast, ending that line of conversation.
Allison spoke up, her voice once again professional. “At least what you’ve told me has given me some ideas. I think we should work on involving Cilla in activities that will make her feel as if she has more in common with girls her age. Of course, it will be up to her to decide which pursuits she’d like to try.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I can check to see if Hattie has room for any new piano students.”
“She might like that,” Colt said with a nod.
“As for sewing and such, it so happens that I am quite an accomplished seamstress. In fact, I make all my clothes. But I fear my other handwork is passable at best. My sister Belinda does beautiful embroidery and petit point, and Ellie is quite good herself. I tend to attack it,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Attack it?”
A memory surfaced, and, their earlier tiff forgotten, her lips curved and her smiling gaze met his. “My mother used to tell me that I wasn’t supposed to go at it like I was killing snakes, that it was designed to be a pleasurable ladies’ pursuit, but once I start a piece, all I can think of is how soon I can finish.”
Colt’s gaze clung to hers a moment longer before he began to saw at a piece of ham with unusual fervor. Like her earlier giggle, the smile did amazing things to her appearance. They ate in silence for several moments...an awkward silence, to be sure.
Allison used her last bite of toast to mop up the rich yellow yolk on her plate. Colt forked up a bite of biscuit, swirled it through some milk gravy and popped it into his mouth, leaving a tiny smudge clinging to the corner of his upper lip. Before she realized what she was going to do, she reached out, leaned across the table and wiped at the smear with her napkin.
Warm, calloused fingers circled her wrist.
She gasped, mortified by her spontaneous action, excited by the feel of his fingers against her skin.
“I...I’m so sorry,” she apologized in a whisper, aware that the pulse in her wrist was throbbing wildly beneath his thumb. “It’s just such a...natural thing for me to wipe tears and runny noses and...” Her voice trailed away and her gaze fell from his to the sugar bowl sitting in the center of the table. “I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” he said, releasing his hold on her as if she’d become hot to touch. Changing the topic, he said, “I appreciate your time and your input, Miss Grainger. When do you suggest that we put our plans into motion?”
She squared her shoulders. “Well, July is more than half gone, and Labor Day will be here before we know it, so the sooner the better if we hope to make enough progress before then to keep our positi
ons. I’ll try to get some letters off today and I’ll speak to Hattie, as well.”
A thoughtful expression filled her eyes. “Cilla is at a precarious age—no longer a little girl and not yet a young lady. Her emotions are all a jumble.”
Colt blew out a breath. “You’re right about that. Some days it’s like she’s all grown up and others, she bursts into tears over nothing.”
“I recall those years as being quite vexing, as I believe most young girls do, but now that we both have a better grasp of the problem, I believe we’ll work through this.”
Though he wasn’t happy at the prospect, he said, “I’ll do my best, but you may have to spell things out for me.” He stood, reaching into his pocket for some money. “I’ll catch up with you later today or tomorrow,” he said. “Or feel free to stop by the jail to talk over any ideas or suggestions if you’re over that way.”
“Thank you. I will. And thank you for the breakfast.”
* * *
After Allison hugged her sister and niece goodbye, she and Colt parted ways. He watched her cross the street and head toward the mercantile, her back ramrod-straight. Unlike her sister, there was not one bit of sway to her hips.
Grunting in frustration, he headed toward the jail, thinking about the time he’d just spent with the spinster teacher. After talking to her, he was convinced that she was concerned about the children, and with her optimistic attitude, he even felt a seed of optimism himself that they might be able to bring about a much-needed change. He hoped so.
As a lawman, he was pretty good at reading between the lines and piecing together things that might seem unrelated but often led him in the right direction when it came to capturing the bad guys, like Elton Thomerson and his buddy. Unfortunately, that talent seemed absent when it came to his kids.
During the time spent with Miss Grainger, he had noticed some very interesting things. For instance, her outward composure was a front that hid a lot of insecurities. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d talked about her beautiful sister, and he’d heard it in her voice when she’d made the offhand comment that he wasn’t interested in her as a wife, and again when she’d said that some men were interested in more than looks. That lack of confidence had been obvious from the droop of her shoulders and the sorrow in her eyes when she’d talked about understanding what Cilla was going through.
Clearly, she was sensitive to the fact that she was not as attractive as her sister. Ellie was tall and curvaceous; Allison was short and plump, thus her skimpy breakfast. Her hair wasn’t the pretty auburn of her sister’s. Allison was a carrottop, and she kept her unruly hair scraped back into a severe knot, as if she were afraid that one loose tendril would mar her image of respectability. Like Ellie’s, her face was oval and her skin was just as creamy and smooth and flawless, except for the overabundance of freckles, which were nothing but a light dusting across her nose.
Her eyes, perhaps her best feature, were a warm brown, framed with long, curling eyelashes that were shades darker than her hair. Her nose was nice, too—one of the few features she and her sister had in common. And the little indentation in her left cheek when she smiled was very eye-catching.
He stopped in the middle of the street. Why was he even thinking about Allison Grainger’s physical appearance? Was he so desperate to find a wife that he was even looking at the town’s spinster teacher as a prospect? No way! It was just a natural thing for a man to look a woman over and catalog her good and bad qualities. He did it all the time. Not that Allison’s flame-red hair and freckles were bad qualities, or even unattractive when taken one by one. There was actually a cuteness about her that some men might find appealing. Just not him.
Then what was that little twinge you felt when she made the offhand comment about you not being interested in making her a stepmother?
Colt gave a grunt of consternation. She’d actually sounded appalled by the idea of being his prospective wife. He didn’t think he was conceited, but neither was he accustomed to ladies looking dismayed at the notion of being linked to him. It was downright demoralizing. He wondered what kind of man she’d loved and what she’d been like before he’d broken her heart.
Forget it! he thought, stomping up onto the wooden sidewalk. He wasn’t in the market for a woman like her. No doubt in time she would find another man who would care for her, someone who wouldn’t be intimidated by her intelligence, as many would be—himself included. Someone who didn’t mind that his woman was...well, dowdy.
While it was admirable that she made her own clothes, her sense of style left much to be desired. He was no expert, but even someone as unschooled in fashion as he was knew that the styles she favored were not at all flattering. Flounces and ruffles and gathers! He supposed she was trying to hide her plumpness, but all she was doing was enhancing it. She’d looked much slimmer in her cleaning clothes the day before.
Oh, well, he thought, pulling open the door to his office and stepping inside. Her style or lack of it was no concern of his.
He found Big Dan Mercer, his deputy, sitting at the desk, reading the latest St. Louis paper.
“Did you and Miss Grainger get things figured out?”
“We came up with a plan of sorts,” Colt told him. “It remains to be seen if it works or not.”
Chapter Four
Allison left her sister’s café, well aware that the sheriff was watching every step she took as she crossed the street. The knowledge made her even more uncomfortable. Only when she rounded the corner to Hattie’s and was certain she was no longer being watched did she relax.
What a worrisome couple of days! she thought, her mind wandering from one meeting with Colt Garrett to the next. She wasn’t certain which was more troubling—the sheriff’s children or the sheriff himself. She couldn’t deny that she was very aware of him as a man. What woman this side of the grave wouldn’t be? What puzzled her was that he was nothing like Jesse, who had been the yardstick for every man she’d met since he’d said he loved someone else.
So why was she experiencing this sudden, unexpected awareness? She’d met men just as handsome and with much more amiable personalities. Men who had more money than the peace officer of a small Arkansas town. Smarter, better-educated men. But not since her relationship with Jesse had changed from a lifelong friendship to love at the age of sixteen had she met a man whose touch could make her heart race. Truth to tell, even Jesse’s touch had never affected her the way the sheriff’s did.
Remembering the way she’d reacted when he’d circled her wrist with his fingers, she gave a little frustrated groan and fanned at the heat in her cheeks. This could not be happening! It simply would not do! Not with a man like Colt, who could never love a woman like her. She didn’t think she could withstand another broken heart.
Pushing her troubling thoughts of him to the back of her mind, she went to the boardinghouse and asked Hattie about an opening for a new piano student. Hattie said there was a spot available, but when she heard who the prospective beginner was, she shook her head.
“Are you daft, woman? That child is a menace and her brother, too! I heard what they did to you over at the store. Why, I might not have a building standing when she leaves.”
“I understand how you feel, Hattie,” Allison pleaded, “but this is important. I’ve spoken with her father, and I believe he finally understands the seriousness of the situation. We’ve decided to work together to see if we can find ways to help the children.”
Arms crossed over her narrow chest, foot tapping an impatient tattoo, Hattie snorted in contempt of the whole notion. Allison poured on the pitiful details and saw Hattie weakening.
“O’ course, the sheriff is happy to pay for the lessons and we would both really, really appreciate your help with this,” she persisted, knowing that Hattie had a soft spot for Colt.
“‘We,’ is it?” the boardinghouse pro
prietor asked. The impatience in her faded blue eyes had been replaced with a twinkle.
“Don’t start, Hattie,” Allison warned, feeling her face flush hotly. “We’re just working together to help his children.”
“Of course, dear,” Hattie said with a knowing smile and an innocent lifting of her eyebrows. The effect was ruined by her next sentence and wide smile. “This is an excellent thing, Allison. You need a good man like the sheriff in your life.”
“He isn’t in my life,” Allison argued. “Except in a marginal way. The children are sort of like a project we’re working on together.”
“Project?” Hattie snorted again. “That sounds pretty unfeeling, if you ask me.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that it sounds like even though your hearts might be in the right place, you and the sheriff are looking at this all wrong. Ornery as they are, those children aren’t an assignment given to you by the mayor....” After seeing the shock on Allison’s face, Hattie offered a shrewd smile. “Surely you didn’t expect that to stay a secret, did you?”
The idea that everyone in town knew that she and Colt were not only trying to help the children, but that they were also fighting for their jobs, was disturbing to say the least.
“Anyway,” Hattie continued, “Cilla and Brady aren’t an assignment or a project that needs to be done by a certain day. If you and Sheriff Garrett go into it with that attitude, all you can hope for is failure. It will take having the right mind-set to make any meaningful changes.”
Hattie was right, Allison thought. She had been looking at it like a tiresome chore, a necessary duty to be dealt with by the beginning of the school year.
“So,” Hattie said, her voice scattering Allison’s uneasy thoughts, “I’ll agree to help you, at least a time or two, but if that child doesn’t work hard or if she won’t listen or if she talks back, the deal is off.”
Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3) Page 6
