“Get it.” He didn’t want to talk. Not tonight. He was too outraged, too ready to smash his fists into a wall until he beat the frustration out of his system. In all his life, he’d never been so naive or made such a stupid, drastic mistake.
Worse yet, he’d compromised his integrity tonight by not charging Dahlia for killing Levens. Her deadly shot had probably saved several lives, including her own, which Levens would have snuffed out in his rampage to punish and kill Anna. Levens had hurt both women, and probably would have killed them, but Duke had stopped him. He’d cuffed the man and would have taken him back to prison. Dahlia had known that, and she’d still pulled the trigger.
Duke’s job was to uphold the law, not decide a person’s guilt. That job was for a jury. Once a person bent the truth—or the law—to suit himself, he would bend it a hundred times. Faith was proof of that. Her life was a web of lies.
He didn’t lie, and he’d never supported or approved of prostitution in his life. But now he owned a brothel. His father would roll in his grave.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Adam took Rebecca’s hand and crept up the greenhouse stairs to the second floor where Faith dried herbs. It was closed on Sunday, which made it a perfect place for him and Rebecca to talk. But the sound of voices made him freeze near the top of the stairs. He brought his finger to his lips to warn Rebecca they weren’t alone.
Patrick and Iris were talking quietly, and Iris seemed upset.
Adam ducked lower on the stairs, worried she’d seen him. Rebecca sidled closer, and he knew they should leave, but spying was too exciting.
“I wish I’d have met you years ago,” Iris said to Patrick.
“You would have hated me then. I was afraid of spirited girls like you.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You are such a nice man. You deserve a very special gal.”
“You’re that gal, Iris. You’re very special and I want you to marry me.”
Iris shook her head and looked angry all of a sudden. “Don’t you dare fall in love with me.”
“Too late. I fell the first time I saw you.”
“I’ll break your heart, farm boy”
“I won’t let you.”
She huffed out a breath and seemed near tears. “Do you understand where I come from, Patrick?”
Adam gulped. Rebecca shouldn’t know this.
“Yes.” Patrick lifted her chin up so she had to look at him. “And now I understand why you’ve never met a man you wanted to marry.”
Adam’s mouth fell open. Patrick didn’t care that Iris used to be a prostitute? Is that what he was saying? Because if he didn’t care, maybe Duke wouldn’t care that they’d lived behind the brothel. Maybe Rebecca wouldn’t care either.
“My sweet, wild Iris.” Patrick kissed her very gently and looked sad, like he was dying or something. “I’m a plain, honest man who loves you. Is that enough for you?”
Iris looked like she was going to cry. “You deserve better.”
“I couldn’t find better. Marry me and I’ll take good care of you. Let me give you the love you deserve.”
Adam grabbed Rebecca’s hand and pulled her down the stairs and outside into the windy afternoon. They raced down the bank and followed the creek to a pool and small waterfall near Rebecca’s home.
Adam stopped, chest heaving from their run. “I didn’t know anybody would be there,” he said, but was too ashamed to look at Rebecca. “I think they saw us run out.”
“Will your aunt tell on us?” Rebecca asked.
He hadn’t considered that, but if Iris blabbed, he was dead. Rebecca was supposed to be at a neighbor’s house, and he was supposed to be fishing in the pond behind the greenhouse. If Duke or Rebecca’s father learned they were together, especially in the greenhouse where they would have been alone if not for Patrick and Iris, they would string Adam up by his heels.
Duke had been scowling all week, and Faith was crying a lot for some reason. This wasn’t the time to get in trouble with either one of them. But if Iris told, he was dead.
“No one can know about this,” he said.
Rebecca flushed, but she didn’t look away. “They’re grownups. Why would they get in trouble for being alone?”
“They’re not married. It would ruin Iris’s reputation and maybe Faith’s.” Adam sighed and sat on a rock beside her. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it a secret.”
“Cross my heart,” she said. The soft look in her eyes warmed him. He’d never had a friend like Rebecca. He could trust her.
“My aunts used to be prostitutes…in a house owned by my mother.”
Rebecca was so quiet, Adam figured she would walk away and never talk to him again.
“She wasn’t much of a mother,” he said. It hurt to admit it, but it was the truth, and Adam wasn’t going to lie about anything ever again. “That’s why Faith has always been more like a mother to me—and Cora like my little sister.”
“Does my Uncle Duke know about your aunts?”
Adam shook his head. “We moved here so my aunts could escape that life. It was terrible for all of us.”
“Maybe my own mother was one. I never met her, but maybe she was like your aunts.” Rebecca hooked her arms around her knees and stared at the rippling water. “Maybe that’s why she didn’t want me.”
“Did your dad say she worked in a brothel?”
“No, he said she was a ballerina.”
“Gosh, that’s a lot better than being a prostitute.” Adam wished his own mother had been a dancer.
“I wonder what my mother looks like.” Rebecca’s eyes sparked. “Maybe I look like her. Maybe if she saw me now, she’d wish she hadn’t abandoned me. That’s what my dad says she did.”
“You’re real pretty. I’ll bet she’d be sorry she gave you away”
A small smile touched Rebecca’s lips and she ducked her head.
“Do you miss her?” he asked.
“No.” She lifted a flat rock with the toe of her shoe and flipped it over so the wet, loamy side faced the gray sky. “I would never want a different mother than Evelyn. But sometimes I wonder about my first mother. You know, what she’s like, what her voice sounds like.”
“Yeah, I wonder about my dad too. Faith thinks he’s in prison or something, but he could be dead for all we know.”
“Do you think he is?”
He shrugged. He had no idea.
They tossed rocks in the creek for a few minutes then started skipping the flat stones across the surface. For a girl, she was good at it, and he liked being her friend.
“I noticed that Nicholas Archer hasn’t been bothering you in school,” she said.
It was because Adam stayed away from the boy and had told everybody that Rebecca was his cousin now.
“I hope you’re going to stay in school this year.” She gave a flat rock a good ride across the creek then faced him. “I like walking to school with you.”
She was so close he could see the gold flecks in her eyes. “I like it too,” he said, his voice rough and shaky, but it didn’t squawk.
“I’m glad we’re friends, Adam.”
Her voice was so soft he wanted to trap it in a jar and keep it with him forever. He wanted to keep Rebecca and her friendship forever.
Before he lost his nerve he leaned forward pecked her on the lips. They were warm and soft, and her brown eyes were filled with so many gold flecks it made him dizzy.
“That was…a surprise,” she said softly, her voice filled with wonder.
The sound of a branch snapping jolted them apart. If her father caught them...
Rebecca stumbled backward over a small pile of rocks. Adam caught her arm and saved her a fall, but Rebecca glared at the trees along the bank. “Melissa Archer is spying on us again!”
“Why is she so stupid?” He scanned the bank but couldn’t see the girl.
“She likes you.”
“Well, I don’t like her.”
“Good
.” Rebecca brushed sand and bits of leaves off her skirt then gave him a warm smile. “I don’t blame her for liking you. I sure do.” She surprised him with a quick kiss then backed away. “I won’t tell anyone about Iris and Patrick. Or about us.”
“We’d get in big trouble if you did.”
“You can trust me.” She grabbed her skirt and lifted it to her shins. “I have to get home before I’m missed.” Then she darted into the trees, tall and beautiful and as graceful as a deer, and Adam knew he would never love any girl but Rebecca Grayson.
Chapter Thirty
Friday afternoon was the first it hadn’t rained in days, and Duke was stuck inside at the town meeting. The good news in an otherwise dismal week was that Arthur Covey had been convicted of horse theft and sent to prison.
Wayne Archer stood up and addressed the Board of Trustees. “I want to register a complaint against the sheriff of our county,” he said. “It’s becoming painfully obvious that Sheriff Grayson is biased in how he upholds the law in our village.”
“In what way?” Duke asked, growing weary of Archer’s constant attacks. He had returned the fancy parasol to Archer weeks ago, but hadn’t told Archer where he’d found it, because it would have only confirmed the man’s suspicion that Adam was the thief.
Duke didn’t know who’d taken the parasol, but since it was returned, and both Adam and Rebecca claimed no knowledge of how the item got to her house, Duke had let the incident rest.
“Not only have two swindles taken place under your nose,” Archer accused, “but there is a thief in town who is living in your home.”
Duke shot to his feet, but he kept himself from planting his fist in Archer’s face. “Until you can provide a witness who saw Adam take your parasol then you’d best not cast accusations, Wayne.”
“I’m not referring to the parasol. My best fishing rod was stolen out of my barn last Sunday afternoon. My daughter saw Adam take it.”
Duke’s gut twisted. Archer was playing dirty to bring this up at the town meeting days after the alleged theft, but the man had never before been a liar. “I’ll talk to your daughter,” Duke said. “Let’s get this business taken care of right now.”
“That’s just the beginning of my concerns.” Archer turned back to the board members, his chest puffed up, his fingers tugging on his vest. “I have reason to believe Sheriff Grayson’s wife is running a house of ill repute right here in our village.”
“What?” Duke grabbed Archer’s arm and spun the man to face him. “On what grounds are you making this ridiculous accusation?”
“Dr. Milton claims he’s been getting private massages from Aster Wilde on the second floor of the greenhouse.”
Maybe he was. Aster and the doctor had grown quite friendly, and Duke suspected they were past courting, but it wasn’t his business to chaperone a grown man and woman.
The board members stared, mouths open, eyebrows raised.
Duke released Archer’s elbow and faced them. “As you probably know, Dr. Milton suffered a carriage accident in early July. He was skeptical of my wife’s business, so he limped into her greenhouse after his accident and tried the herbal bath and massage to test her claim that it would help him. Since the doctor is still taking treatments, I assume it’s because he’s finding them beneficial to his health.”
“But the doctor isn’t the only man who’s enjoying those private treatments,” Archer said. “My wife stopped there to buy cooking herbs and saw Cyrus Darling at the top of the stairs kissing a blond woman quite passionately.”
President A. C. Cushing scowled at Duke. “Is this true?”
Who knew? Duke didn’t. No doubt Archer had sent his wife to snoop, but if she had seen Cyrus kissing Tansy then anything was possible. He should have stopped those baths and massages when he married Faith. But he admired her skills and knew her treatments improved painful conditions like his shoulder injury.
“I’m unaware of any sordid activity,” Duke said truthfully, but he was going to put a halt to the rumors immediately. Feigning calm, he nodded to Archer. “I’ll look into it along with your claim that your fishing rod was stolen.”
Archer spoke to the board president. “I would caution all of you that we are discussing the sheriff’s family, and that it’s very possible he will act with bias.”
Duke grabbed two fistfuls of Archer’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. “If you insult my integrity or my family again, Wayne, I’m going to take off this badge and answer your insults with my fists.”
Board member Gideon Webster gripped Duke’s shoulder. “Wayne not only underestimates your patience but our intelligence. We’ve depended on your integrity and judgment for eight years, and won’t be swayed by anyone’s petty rumors.”
His confidence rubbed salt in Duke’s festering conscience. He had been biased when he didn’t charge Dahlia with murder. He could honestly argue self-defense on her behalf, but a jury should have decided her innocence, not him. And knowing Faith’s aunts, there probably was something tawdry going on in the greenhouse. For all he knew, Adam could be the thief Archer accused him of being.
He shoved Archer away from him. “Let’s go talk to your daughter about that missing fishing rod of yours.”
Duke excused himself from the meeting and strode alongside Archer to his house, feeling more like a criminal than a law enforcer for the first time in his term as sheriff. Archer was a pain in the neck, but he wasn’t all wrong.
Melissa Archer swore shed seen Adam sneaking out of their barn with her father’s fishing rod last Sunday afternoon. She claimed it was half past two when she finished her piano practice and headed outside to play. And she described Adam perfectly, even mentioning the shirt he had been wearing that afternoon.
Duke expected Archer to act smug, but the man gave him a look of pity. “I don’t envy you your position, Sheriff.”
Who would? What man wanted to discover that his son was a thief? Melissa’s detailed account made her a convincing witness.
Duke left and walked out Liberty Street then cut through the field behind his mother’s house and followed the path down into the gorge where he kept his boat. He needed time to think before going home. His dad had always worked out his problems while fishing in the gorge or running the saw at the mill; Duke needed to do the same. But when he reached into his boat to get his fishing pole, his problems grew by one expensive fishing rod.
“This can’t be,” he said, lifting out the rod Archer claimed was stolen. Only Adam and Duke’s brothers knew where Duke kept his boat. Did Adam think he could stash the rod here and make Duke believe it was one of his own? Did the boy think Duke would be that gullible? Why not? Duke huffed in self-disgust. He’d never suspected Faith’s lies. Why shouldn’t Adam try to hoodwink the blind sheriff too? Faith would try to protect the boy, but it was time for Adam to face the consequences of his actions.
And for Duke to face reality.
He gripped Archer’s fishing rod and walked home with it. He found Adam helping Faith and Cora rake leaves. A smile covered Cora’s face as she ran to greet him with a hug. He tweaked her side, and set her back on her feet. “I need to talk to your mother and Adam alone,” he said. “Go play on the swing for a few minutes.”
“Will you push me?” she asked.
“I can’t, princess. I’m working.” He gave her a pat on the head, and she scampered off.
“What’s the matter?” Faith asked, tugging a pair of worn gloves off her hands. She approached him warily, like a snarling dog she was unsure of.
He couldn’t blame her. He’d snapped at her a dozen times since learning about the brothel. Her attempts to stroke his hackles back into place only antagonized him. He needed to work out his anger alone, and figure out how to get them out of this mess without losing everything he and his family had worked for.
A worried look creased Adam’s forehead as he dropped the rake, but when he saw the fishing rod, his eyes lit up. “Did you get a new rod?” he asked, stopping
in front of Duke.
The genuine excitement in his face unbalanced Duke. He’d expected to see fear or feigned innocence, not boyish enthusiasm.
“Where were you last Sunday afternoon, Adam?”
The boy’s gaze shifted slightly and became guarded. “In the gorge.”
“Did you at any time go into Wayne Archer’s barn and remove this fishing rod?” he asked, finding that a direct question could sometimes shake loose an honest answer.
“No, sir,” Adam said, his scowl deepening. “I don’t even know where Mr. Archer lives.”
“Melissa Archer said she saw you leaving her father’s barn with this fishing rod Sunday afternoon at two-thirty.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “She’s lying.”
“Then you’re saying you were in the gorge?”
Adam’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”
“What were you doing in the gorge?”
“Skipping stones.”
“You told me you were going fishing.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Did you put my rod back in my boat?”
“I didn’t take it out. I just stayed in the gorge and skipped stones.”
“Then you never went to my boat?”
“No, sir. I haven’t been there since the day you took me fishing.”
“If you’re telling me you didn’t take this rod from his barn then I want to know how it got on my boat.”
Adam clenched his jaw and said nothing, his stubborn silence increasing Duke’s ire.
“Adam...” Faith rubbed his shoulder, coddling him, which made Duke madder. “Do you know anything about this?”
The boy shook his head.
“All right then.” She glanced at Duke. “I believe him.”
She would. It irritated Duke that she accepted Adam’s word without considering the facts. “How did this rod end up on my boat if Adam didn’t put it there?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I know when Adam isn’t telling the truth.”
“Do you? Then why couldn’t you tell he was lying when he was skipping out of school?”
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