The Widow's Little Secret

by Judith Stacy

  And that was that.

  Mattie gulped down the lump that rose in her throat. She needed that job. Without it and the money it would generate, her restaurant would continue its decline. It would wither away. She’d have to close it. Close the Cottonwood Café.

  Unbearable. Mattie pressed her fingertips to her lips, trying desperately to hold her raging emotions in check.

  The Cottonwood and all its memories, gone? Taking her future with it?

  What would become of her? Her and her baby?

  “Mattie?”

  Jared. The sound of his voice washed through her. She turned and there he stood, tall, strong and sturdy. Jared, who always seemed to be in front of her at her worst moments, who somehow seemed to make them better.

  Tears sprang to Mattie’s eyes. She blinked, trying to hold them back, and gulped hard.

  He came forward, frowning. “What’s wrong, Mattie? What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Her throat tightened, and despite her efforts, tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I—I’m all right.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m mad!”

  He just looked at her for a few seconds, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.

  Mattie didn’t resist him. She sobbed into his shirt, twisting her fingers in the fabric.

  How easy it was to lean against him, to let her problems flow into him, knowing he would soak them up. Just as he had the night of Del’s funeral.

  But it wasn’t like her to fall apart like this. She almost never cried.

  “I—I don’t know why I’m carrying on so,” she managed to say between sobs. “It’s just—”

  “The baby. I know,” Jared said, and gently rubbed her shoulders.

  Finally, when her tears subsided, Jared gave her his handkerchief. Even as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, he kept his arm around her.

  “What’s got you so mad?” Jared asked.

  Mattie hesitated. She stepped away from him and tucked the handkerchief in her pocket.

  “You can tell me,” he said. “Maybe I can help. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

  She glanced up at him. “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  “Anything?”

  Jared paused. “I’d prefer not to have to sing or dance, but yes, I’d do anything.”

  A little laugh bubbled up, and like quicksilver, it turned to tears. Mattie fell against him again, crying. Jared held her tight without saying a word, until she quieted.

  “I heard about your plan for those Eastern investors,” Jared said. “Is that what this is all about?”

  She looked up at him, wiping her nose again. “How did you find out what I was doing?”

  “I’m the law in this town. It’s my job to know everything that goes on.” Jared nodded toward the mayor’s house. “I take it Rayburn didn’t like your idea.”

  “Oh, he liked it, all right. Only he won’t consider me for the job. Just because I’m having a baby. Women all over Stanford are having babies, and they’re going about their business just fine. But for some reason I can’t, according to the mayor.”

  Jared nodded. This morning, standing in front of the jailhouse, he’d noticed a half-dozen expectant mothers, something he’d never paid much attention to until Mattie became pregnant.

  “Putting on that supper will be a lot of work, Mattie. To tell you the truth, I’d be worried about you myself.”

  “Yes, it is a lot of work. But that’s not a good enough reason for the mayor to forbid me to do it,” Mattie said. “No one has better food than the Cottonwood. Not the Silver Bell or any of those other, smaller restaurants in town.”

  “I know how bad you need this work,” Jared said.

  Mattie gasped, then huffed. “Oh, wonderful. Now I suppose the whole town knows, too?”

  “No, I was told in confidence. It’s not common knowledge,” Jared said. “But if you need money, Mattie, I could help you out.”

  She looked up at him and shook her head. “I intend to handle my business myself. I don’t want your—or anyone’s—money.”

  Hearing her say those words annoyed Jared, but he couldn’t fault her for them. She had her pride, and there was nothing wrong with that. She’d told no one her problems, hadn’t gone around whining or conniving or complaining when things got tough. She’d not even mentioned what a bad husband Del Ingram had been, or how he’d left her with his debts.

  Just one more reason to love her…as if Jared needed another.

  Suddenly, Mattie looked tired, the emotional distress of the situation taking its toll. Jared saw it as the opportunity he’d been looking for.

  “You know, Mattie,” he said softly, “if you do have to close the Cottonwood, there’s no need to worry about your future. I told you I’d take care of you, and I meant it. I’ll marry you—you just say the word.”

  She seemed to steel herself, drawing on some internal well of strength. Mattie straightened her shoulders.

  “Marriage isn’t something to be tossed around casually,” she said. “You have no idea what it means.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No. You can’t possibly know unless you’ve been married.” Mattie shook her head. “If what you said earlier is true, Jared, if you really want to help, if you’d really do anything to make me happy, figure some way for me to host that supper.”

  “Look, Mattie—”

  “That is what would make me happy. That is the kind of help I need.”

  He stood fuming silently as Mattie walked away. The pride she’d displayed a few minutes ago that he’d thought so highly of seemed downright irritating all of a sudden.

  Still, he couldn’t blame her. Mattie wanted to run her own life. It would take her a while to warm up to the idea of letting him be a part of it, too.

  So that left him with a dilemma.

  Jared glanced at Mattie, then back at Mayor Rayburn’s house. If he didn’t go talk to the mayor, convince him to give Mattie that job, she’d lose her restaurant for sure. If he didn’t say anything, Mattie would be forced to marry him. He’d have her for his wife.

  But was that how he wanted her? Penniless? Her spirit broken?

  Sure, she’d marry him. But would she love him?

  “Damn it…” Jared took another look at Mattie, then at the mayor’s house.

  He wasn’t exactly the mayor’s favorite person right now. In fact, Rayburn had threatened to fire him.

  Still, Jared had to do something. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Yeah, he’d help her. But he’d do it his way.

  “Maybe if I talk to the mayor on your behalf it will help,” Mrs. Nance offered.

  “I doubt it will do any good. He didn’t seem of a mind to listen to reason,” Mattie said, seated at the worktable in the Cottonwood’s kitchen. She looked up from her writing tablet. “Maybe if I approach Mrs. Pomeroy. If I can get her and her committee on my side, perhaps then the mayor will be convinced.”

  Mrs. Nance didn’t appear encouraged. “Well, maybe.”

  Mattie sighed and turned back to her tablet. Even Mrs. Pomeroy wasn’t likely to change the mayor’s mind. But something had to be done. Tonight, Mattie had once more closed the Cottonwood early. There just weren’t enough diners to keep it open. Here it was, not quite dark outside, and the restaurant was closed.

  “What if I talk to the town council myself?” she mused.

  “Go to the council after the mayor’s told you no?” Mrs. Nance made a little tsking sound. “You’re not likely to win any favors from the mayor like that.”

  Mattie hopped off the stool. “I have to do something. I can’t stand idle and let this golden opportunity pass by. Those Eastern investors are just what I need. Something like this isn’t likely to happen again.”

  “Too bad Del’s gone. He could have convinced the mayor to let you have the supper.” Mrs. Nance took off her apron and plucked her shawl and handbag from beside the back door. “Well, go
od night, dear. See you in the morning.”

  Mattie slumped onto the stool again and leaned forward, covering her face with her palms. Del…would that man ever stop haunting her?

  She sat there, bone weary, trying to muster the energy to come up with a plan to secure the supper for her restaurant, trying to make herself get up and wash the dishes piled high on the sideboard. Both, it seemed, were impossible tasks.

  With a deep breath, Mattie dragged herself off the stool. The sooner she got these dishes done, the sooner she could go home and lie down. And at the moment, that prospect seemed the only bright spot in her life.

  A commotion out back drew her attention. A second later Jared opened the door and strode into the kitchen.

  “Evening, Mattie,” he called. He looked behind him. “Come on in here.”

  She craned her neck and saw Mr. Hopkins follow Jared inside. “What’s going on?”

  “The sheriff’s office has a new policy. I’m calling it my community assistance program,” Jared announced, looking altogether pleased with himself. He turned to Mr. Hopkins and pointed to the sideboard. “Get to it. And if you break anything, it’ll cost you another day in jail.”

  Mr. Hopkins ambled to the sideboard, shucked off his rumpled coat, turned back his sleeves and began washing dishes.

  Mattie had seen Mr. Hopkins in town often. Everyone knew him, though no one knew much about him. Nearly fifty years old, from all appearances, he led a solitary life, finding odd jobs, sleeping here and there, spending what little money he earned drinking silently at the Lady Luck, talking to no one.

  “Didn’t you arrest Mr. Hopkins yesterday?” Mattie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  She looked at the old man, elbow deep at the wash-tub, then at Jared. “I don’t understand.”

  “Seemed to me to be a useless waste of time to have able-bodied prisoners lying around the jail when there was work in the community that needed doing,” Jared told her. “That’s how I got the idea for my community assistance program. Mr. Hopkins is working off one day of his sentence by washing dishes.”

  The load on Mattie’s shoulders lifted considerably.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “He’s washing dishes? Here? For me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You can do that?”

  Jared dipped his chin toward his badge. “I’m the law. I can do as I see fit.”

  “Oh, my…” Mattie shook herself. “Well, the least I can do is dry.”

  Jared stepped in front of her as she headed for the sideboard. “If you did that, I couldn’t knock a whole day off his sentence. You don’t want Mr. Hopkins to have to serve more time on account of you, do you?”

  “Oh, well, no. Of course not.”

  “Besides,” Jared said, “I’ve got some business to talk over with you. Come over here and sit down.”

  Mattie allowed him to lead her to a stool at the worktable. He nodded toward the stove as she sat down. “Is that coffee still hot?”

  “Yes, I’ll get you some,” she said, and started to rise.

  Jared waved her onto the stool again, then poured coffee into two china cups.

  “You got any pie or cake?”

  “There’s apple pie. I’ll get it—”

  “Just sit still and point.” Jared followed her finger to the pie safe, cut a wedge for each of them, then sat down beside her, positioning himself to keep an eye on Mr. Hopkins.

  Mattie raised an eyebrow at the pie and coffee sitting in front of her. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been served in my own restaurant.”

  “All part of the service, ma’am,” Jared announced, biting into his pie. “How are you feeling?”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  He glanced at her belly and lowered his voice. “My little girl moving around yet?”

  “It’s a boy,” Mattie told him, touching her hand to her stomach. “And no, not yet.”

  “You’ll tell me when it happens, won’t you?”

  An odd sensation passed through Mattie. Without realizing she was going to, she reached across the worktable and touched Jared’s arm. “Sure. If you want me to.”

  “I want you to.”

  “Then I will,” she promised.

  “Thank you.”

  How odd it seemed that he’d have to ask for the tiniest detail of his child’s life. How humbling that he would. How endearing that he’d thank her for it.

  Mattie sipped her coffee, pushing the thought from her mind. “You have business to discuss?”

  Jared scraped the last bite of pie off his plate. “As it stands, Billy Weaver comes to the jail to fix meals for my prisoners. But the way I see it, even criminals deserve better than beans and bread three times a day. So the sheriff’s office is offering the business to the Cottonwood Café.”

  “You want me to provide meals for your prisoners?”

  “Nothing fancy, just something decent,” Jared said. “You’d be paid for your food, of course.”

  Mattie’s back stiffened. “Oh, I understand. Charity. A pity job.”

  “Business,” Jared told her sternly. He shrugged. “Of course, if you don’t want the job I’ll offer it to the Silver Bell. With all those young-uns they’ve got, they’ll jump at the chance.”

  Mattie laid her hand on his forearm for a second time, unable to keep from doing it, for some reason. “You’re serious? You really want me to do this?”

  “The sheriff’s office has a budget for prisoners and the like, but don’t go thinking you’re going to get rich off of this. It’s steady income as long as I have a prisoner that needs to be fed.”

  Mattie mulled it over, but there was really only one decision she could make. “Sheriff, I do like your offer.” She nodded toward Mr. Hopkins. “And I’m very pleased about your community assistance program.”

  Jared smiled. “So you’re agreeable?”

  “I’m agreeable.”

  Footsteps clattered up the back steps and Billy hurried into the kitchen, wild-eyed and breathing hard.

  Jared lurched from the stool. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’d better come to the jail, Sheriff,” Billy said, holding his heaving chest. “Big Jim Ballard’s come to get his boy back. And he ain’t happy.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jared jerked his thumb toward Mr. Hopkins. “You stay here, Billy, keep an eye on the prisoner.”

  The young man gulped hard, catching his breath. “You mean it? You want me to watch him? Like a real deputy?”

  “Yep.” Jared headed out the door.

  “But, Sheriff? Don’t I have to be deputized or something?”

  Jared stopped. “Raise your right hand. Do you swear to uphold the laws of this state to the best of your ability, so help you God?”

  Billy nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Okay, you’re a deputy—temporarily.”

  “Lordy me!” Billy smiled broadly and puffed out his chest. “Do I get a gun, Sheriff?”

  “No.” He nodded toward Mr. Hopkins. “Any deputy worth his salt can watch this prisoner without a gun.”

  “How about a badge? Do I get a badge?”

  Jared pressed his lips together. “No badge, Billy. Not this time.”

  “Well, all right. I’ll do my best, even without a badge.”

  “Jared?”

  He turned back from the door as Mattie crossed the room.

  “Big Jim is a very powerful man in Stanford,” she said cautiously. “You should know that he’s very protective of his sons, especially Johnny.”

  “’Scuse me, Miss Mattie, but that ain’t exactly so,” Billy said. “It’s ’cause of his wife, that’s all.”

  “What do you know about the Ballards?” Jared asked.

  “Well, for one thing,” Billy said, “Big Jim ain’t happy about his boy being locked up. But that’s mostly because Big Jim’s got that cattle ranch to run and he don’t like having to come into town du
ring the week.”

  “What else?”

  “You see, Big Jim’s got seven other sons. His wife is partial to Johnny because he’s the youngest. Fact is, she’s real partial to that boy. My aunt Frannie says that’s the reason Johnny is always causing trouble, and why he ain’t worth hardly nothing.”

  Jared nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, Billy. Keep an eye on the prisoner. I’ll be back.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll watch him good. I swear.”

  “Good luck,” Mattie said, touching Jared’s arm.

  He knew what she really meant was be nice.

  Jared kept to the alleys behind the storefronts as he headed for the jail. He just didn’t have another smile or pleasant word for passersby in him tonight. When he entered the jailhouse, Jim Ballard was pacing the floor.

  Big Jim had gotten his nickname from his large cattle ranch, Jared figured, as well as his size: he was tall and broad shouldered. His face was tanned and lined from years in the sun, and Jared decided the scrawny, fresh-faced Johnny must have taken after his mama. Ballard wore a leather vest, an open collar and a Stetson pulled low on his frowning forehead.

  “Sheriff McQuaid, I don’t like having my boy arrested and locked up,” he growled, squaring off in the middle of the floor.

  Jared resisted the urge to tell Ballard that Johnny was an embarrassment to young men everywhere, whining like a girl and complaining the whole time he’d been locked up.

  Instead, he nodded in understanding. “Truth is, Mr. Ballard, I didn’t like having to arrest him or lock him up.”

  That seemed to take some of the starch out of Big Jim. He relaxed marginally.

  “The boy was just blowing off steam,” Ballard said.

  “Can’t say I haven’t done that a time or two myself.” Jared nodded toward the chairs in front of his desk. Big Jim hesitated, then finally the two men sat down.

  “The problem is, Mr. Ballard, that your boy started shooting up the town.” Jared shook his head solemnly. “I can’t have that kind of thing going on, with women and children on the streets.”

  Ballard grumbled and pulled on the back of his neck.

  “I know it puts you in a tough spot,” Jared said. “You’ve got a ranch to run. You don’t have time to come into town for something like this.”