Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek

by Janet Tronstad

  The sheriff had a sinking feeling that he knew what year Pete was referring to. “The sheriff’s department always sponsors non-violence.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Well, it’s only Pete,” Barbara finally said as she took a step closer to the man and smiled at him. “How’s everything today?”

  Pete ground his teeth into a smile. “Good morning, ma’am. Everything’s just fine.”

  “Please, call me Barbara. Everyone does.”

  Pete nodded at Barbara without taking his eyes off the sheriff. “I’m just wondering if some folks standing here don’t call you something a little more affection ate than Barbara.”

  Barbara gasped. “Why—”

  The sheriff lowered the booster seats to the ground and took a step closer to Pete. He motioned for Barbara and the children to step back. Pete looked determined to fight and the sheriff wasn’t feeling as opposed to it as he had at first.

  Then he heard a boy’s thin voice coming from behind him.

  “I call her Mommy some times,” Bobby confessed in a rush. “I know I’m not supposed to—I’m going to start calling her Mom. The other boys call their mommys Mom instead of—well, you know. Now that I’m seven, I’m too old for a Mommy. The other boys told me so.”

  Pete’s eyes softened as he looked past the sheriff and down at the boy. “I wasn’t worried about you. I think it’s great that you call her Mommy.”

  “I call her ma’am,” the sheriff said. He knew it wasn’t always true, but usually it was. “Or Mrs. Strong if it’s an official matter.”

  The sheriff might wish he called her something more affection ate, at least when she was able to hear him, but the truth was that he didn’t have the nerve. The only times he had called her “dear,” she’d been in the hospital so doped up with pain medication that she wouldn’t have heard a drum if it was beating nearby. A “dear” like that didn’t count for anything but dreaming.

  The sheriff would fight a man if he had to, but he drew the line at fighting anyone over something that hadn’t even happened.

  “I’m not really Mrs. Strong any more,” Barbara offered.

  “Well, I’ll call you Mrs. or Miss whatever you want,” the sheriff said.

  It occurred to the sheriff that he’d been a little disrespectful here. He hadn’t even asked Barbara if she objected to being called Mrs. Strong. That’s what the FBI called her, and he had gotten into the habit of referring to her by the same name. He’d change that though. “Are you going back to your real name? The one you had before you got married? You should let the post office know.”

  “Forget about names. Can we get back to our problem?” Pete said from where he stood. “I haven’t got all day.”

  The sheriff could tell the ranch hand was weakening in his anger. Confusion would do that to a man. “I don’t have all day either.”

  “We have to finish delivering the bakery orders so we can meet for dinner to work on the sheriff’s campaign,” Barbara informed Pete.

  Pete frowned. “You’re going to dinner together to work?”

  Barbara nodded. “I’m helping with a flyer for the campaign.”

  “So, it’s not a date like Charley said?” Pete asked.

  “Why would he think that?” Now Barbara frowned. “It’s a working dinner. To get the vote out. I thought the men in Dry Creek saw women as equals. You wouldn’t object to a man having dinner with the sheriff to discuss the campaign, but the minute a woman does it, you question her integrity!”

  The sheriff was a little distracted by the pink flush that anger brought to Barbara’s face. He didn’t suppose that now was the time to remark on how cute she looked though. “No one’s questioning your integrity.”

  Barbara turned on the sheriff. “He thinks we’re going on a date!”

  For the life of him, the sheriff couldn’t think why that was such a bad idea.

  “So, it’s not a date?” Pete asked again more cautiously. The ranch hand shifted his weight. He didn’t look ready to fight anymore. He did have a grin growing on his face though.

  The sheriff wondered how a grin could annoy him so much. “It could be a date.”

  Pete chuckled. “Not if it’s just to get the vote out.”

  The sheriff grunted. “Nobody votes around here anyway.”

  “I voted last election,” Pete said. His smile grew even wider. “Of course, I voted for Santa Claus.”

  “Well, you need to vote for the sheriff,” Barbara scolded him.

  “Why?” Pete said with a shrug. “He’s going to get the job anyway. I didn’t want to waste my vote.”

  “Do you know Santa Claus?” Amanda’s small voice interrupted.

  Pete shifted his feet and knelt down so he was eye level with the girl. “Well, now, I’ve been known to write the old fellow a letter or two in my day. I reckon he still remembers me. Did you want me to send him a message?”

  Amanda nodded. “Bobby says I’m too old for Santa Claus.”

  “It’s only March. Christmas is more than half a year away,” the sheriff said. He didn’t like that Bobby had slid away from his side and was now leaning against the ranch hand too. “There’s no need to send a message now.”

  “I don’t know,” Pete drawled as he winked at Bobby and Amanda. “Like they say, the early bird gets the worm.”

  “Yuck, I don’t want a worm,” Amanda said. “Unless it’s a princess worm. But it would have to have a crown.”

  Pete nodded thought fully. “With diamonds? I think all princesses wear diamond tiaras. I don’t know about worm princesses though. Diamonds would be too heavy for their heads. And they’re expensive. Where would a worm get enough money to buy a diamond?”

  Amanda giggled. “You’re silly.”

  The sheriff knew before he turned his head that Barbara was smiling at the ranch hand the same as her children. What was it about Pete, the sheriff wondered, that made women and children like him so much?

  The sheriff was beginning to regret that there wasn’t going to be a fight. Taking a swing at the ranch hand would make the sheriff feel a lot better about now.

  Barbara hadn’t heard Amanda giggle very often lately. Pete was right about diamonds. They were expensive. She remembered the diamond engagement and wedding ring set that she had tucked away in her things in the back room of the bakery. She and Neal had bought a matching set of three expensive rings. She wondered how much the two she had would be worth if she sold them. She should get enough money to buy a nice dining room table and chairs.

  Barbara would get more if she had Neal’s ring to add to it though, because then she’d have all three rings. Maybe she could buy carpet for the floor, too. She wondered what Neal had done with his ring and if he’d give it to her to buy carpet.

  After Amanda’s giggle faded, Pete stood up again.

  “We’d best get going,” the sheriff announced.

  Barbara nodded. Since she’d probably see Neal today, she’d just flat out ask him for his ring. That was the best thing to do. He certainly didn’t need it as a souvenir.

  Three hours later, the sheriff sat with his hat in his hands and watched the children. Amanda and Bobby were sitting in a corner of the visitors’ area at the Billings prison. Bobby was reading to Amanda from his book.

  For the first time all day, the sheriff wished there was someone else to watch the children so he could pay more attention to Barbara as she talked to her ex-husband through the Plexiglas. The sheriff wondered how, since he was sitting so far away from both of them, he was supposed to know that her ex-husband didn’t pass her any messages.

  Of course, the janitor sweeping back and forth near Barbara and her ex-husband was an FBI man, so the sheriff figured he’d find out soon enough if any messages had been passed. He just wasn’t sure he liked the fact that Barbara’s voice was low and he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He could see that Neal Strong was smiling, and he hadn’t even opened the card that went with the cake. No, it sure looked to
the sheriff that Neal was smiling just because Barbara was there talking to him.

  Barbara bit her lip. She could see Neal’s face clearly through the Plexiglas and could tell he was trying to be pleasant. He obviously knew, as she did, that they were being closely watched.

  The visitors’ room in the jail had tall ceilings and a faint echo. A row of chairs on her side matched the openings in a long counter with Plexiglas windows. It all smelled of cigarette smoke. There were two other visits going on at the same time that Barbara sat there.

  “I thought the children would do better with their homework if they had a table to sit at,” Barbara said in a low voice. She’d just asked Neal if she could have his wedding ring.

  Neal shrugged. His eyes were rimmed with weariness and his face was unshaven. “Sure. Sell it. I had it on when I came in here. They have it up front some place.”

  Barbara nodded. “I’ll tell the kids that you wanted to help with the table.”

  “Yeah, well. What ever.”

  Barbara thought she saw guilt in Neal’s eyes.

  “I didn’t exactly plan for it all to end this way,” Neal finally said. “They’re good kids.”

  Barbara nodded. “Yes, they are.”

  “I’m glad you came so I could tell you that,” Neal said.

  Neal looked over her shoulder and Barbara knew he was watching the children where they sat in the corner.

  “I wouldn’t have except for the cake,” Barbara said. She didn’t want Neal to think everything was forgiven and for got ten. She’d never forget.

  Barbara had given the cake to the guard when she first arrived for the visit. The sheriff had told everyone about the card so Neal was allowed to have the cake and card. Barbara assumed the FBI was hoping Neal would respond to the card and give them some kind of a tip. But Neal didn’t. He didn’t even seem to notice the cake.

  “The cake has some coconut, but I kept it light,” Barbara said. “I know you don’t like coconut.”

  Neal nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Well, I’m going to be going then,” Barbara said. She thought of all of the angry things she had thought she’d like to say to Neal if she saw him again, but now she didn’t want to say any of them. He looked so defeated.

  Barbara looked around and signaled for the guard.

  “Ask him if I need to sign something so you can have what was in my pockets when I came here,” Neal said.

  Barbara nodded. “Goodbye, Neal.”

  The sheriff opened the car door for Barbara. The visit with her ex-husband had been fruit less. The guard had reported that Neal had signed over his be longings to Barbara and that she had taken them, but the FBI had already examined everything he had in great detail so there were no new clues there.

  “Keep your eyes open for any new purchases though,” one of the FBI men had told the sheriff as they whispered outside the jail while Barbara started walking the children back to the car. “That’s the only way we’re going to know if she’s in on any of this.”

  “Don’t you think the fact that she told me about the cake pretty well clears her?” the sheriff asked.

  The FBI man had shrugged. “Telling you about the cake got the cake to him, didn’t it?”

  The sheriff shook his head as he walked away from that discussion. Those FBI men saw too much crime. They’d be suspicious of their own mothers. As far as the sheriff was concerned, Barbara was in the clear.

  “Let’s get out of here,” the sheriff said as they finished walking to the car. Barbara already had the children settled in the back seat and was opening the door on the passenger side of his car for herself.

  Barbara nodded as she sat down in the seat. “I feel chilly.”

  “I’ll turn the heater on in the car,” the sheriff said as he sat in the driver’s seat. He didn’t like the whiteness in Barbara’s face.

  The sheriff noted that the sky was overcast. He was right about it being a cold afternoon. With the heater going nicely, the children would probably doze off in the back seat before they were ten miles down the road. He didn’t have much hope that Barbara would want to slide closer to him and snuggle, though. He only hoped she wasn’t going to cry.

  Chapter Ten

  It was five-thirty in the afternoon when they arrived back at Barbara’s place in Dry Creek. All of the bakery items were delivered. Now that they were back, the sheriff offered to carry a sleeping Bobby inside to a bed. Barbara didn’t usually have visitors in this back room where she slept with the children, but Bobby was too heavy for her to lift, so she nodded her agreement.

  Barbara was the first one through the outer studio and stopped at the doorway of the back room. She winced as she looked around. She wished she’d at least taken the time to paint the room before she’d moved into it several weeks ago. The walls were drab and made everything look worse than it was. Not that drabness was the room’s only problem.

  “This is only temporary,” Barbara told the sheriff as she stepped into the room so he could also enter. She switched on the overhead light, hoping it would make things look cozier. It was late afternoon and dusk seemed to be creeping in earlier than usual, probably because the day was still overcast. The extra light didn’t do much for the room in Barbara’s opinion. Maybe it would have been better to leave everything in shadows instead of turning on the light in the ceiling. “I plan to find us a real home soon.”

  The sheriff laid Bobby on the bed. “And what makes a real home?”

  Barbara shrugged. “A yard with a white picket fence, I guess. Some thing solid where the kids can feel secure.” Barbara looked at the sheriff and smiled. “At least something with more than one room. They need that.”

  The sheriff nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave her face to look around the room. “That’d be good for all of you.”

  “I can do it, too,” Barbara said. She looked closely at the sheriff so she could judge his reaction. Her ex-husband had never thought she was serious about wanting a home. He had never thought she could do much about it either so it wasn’t surprising that she’d given up on even talking with him about her dreams. She wondered if the sheriff knew what a real home would mean to her children.

  The sheriff nodded. “You can do anything. You just need a little time.”

  The sheriff’s eyes were a mossy green with golden flecks and Barbara could see that they were serious. He believed she meant what she said. She’d do it, too. “I’ll have to work hard. Maybe get a second job.”

  The sheriff frowned and the green of his eyes darkened. “You don’t want to work too much, not with the kids needing you.”

  Barbara nodded. “That’s what has stopped me from taking a second job so far.”

  The sheriff looked like he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. He just ran his hands over his head like he was trying to straighten out his hair. “I need to get Amanda,” he finally said as he left the room.

  Barbara realized she’d never noticed before what a fine head of hair the sheriff had. First his eyes and now his hair. She wondered why it had taken her so long to see his finer points His hair was an ordinary kind of light brown, but it was thick and looked like it had a nice texture to it. He should really leave his hat off more often, especially in the spring when a hat wasn’t needed for warmth or shade. Then people would see his fine eyes and hair.

  Barbara would have to mention the hat to him some day when he was more likely to take her advice. No one seeing this room right now would want to take her advice on anything related to looks and fashion. Maybe it was that realization that made her look at the sheriff more closely. For months, she’d thought of him as plain, but maybe he really wasn’t. Maybe he was like this room and just needed to make a few changes to bring out his positive points.

  Barbara went to the counter that ran along one side of the room and wiped it with a dish towel even though there was no need. The counter was stained, but nothing had spilled on it. The room was clean. It was just al so—well, used up were the only
words that came to mind.

  She was wrong in thinking that the sheriff was like this room. There wasn’t a positive point to this room, and the sheriff had his share of pluses.

  Barbara sat down in a folding chair and rested her arms on the folding table. The table felt as though it could collapse at any time. Everything in the room was old or stained or temporary. None of the dishes matched. The silverware was mostly plastic. Even the lamp by the bed was missing a shade and looked ready for the trash.

  A footstep sounded in the outer studio and Barbara looked up as the sheriff entered the room and then carried Amanda to the bed. Barbara wondered when the children had grown too heavy for her to lift. They were changing, just as Mrs. Hargrove had indicated. They were old enough to notice things like not having a proper home.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” the sheriff said as he pulled a blanket up over the children and looked over at Barbara. “Don’t let them sleep too much or Mrs. Hargrove won’t have a chance at getting them to bed at a reason able hour later. By the way, I’ll pick up Mrs. Hargrove on my way.”

  Barbara stood up. “Don’t worry. They adore her. They’ll probably pretend to go to sleep if nothing else just to please her.”

  The sheriff smiled and nodded. “I’ll be back soon then.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Barbara watched the sheriff walk out of the building. He didn’t appear to have noticed how worn everything was, but maybe he was too polite to remark on it. Just as she was too polite to mention that he should stop wearing a hat. She walked over to the stove and turned on the heat under the teakettle.

  Barbara shook her head. She needed to forget about the sheriff’s hat and do something about a better home for herself and the children. Listening to Mrs. Hargrove talk this morning had made her realize just how much her children thought about everything. She wondered how all of this temporariness was affecting them. They had lived hand-to-mouth all of their lives with their father. She wanted them to know they could trust her to take care of them and give them a normal life.