A Tailor-Made Husband

by Winnie Griggs

  Could it be the person who’d been causing so much trouble around town? If so, this could be Ward’s chance to finally capture the culprit and put an end to it. She just needed to alert him to what was going on.

  Hazel quietly slipped out of her front door and then paused. What if the intruder left before Ward could get here? Maybe she should try to get a quick look in the window—perhaps she would see enough to make an identification.

  Hazel stealthily moved toward the shop window. The shade was drawn but there was a slight gap on one side. Unfortunately, Hazel couldn’t see anything in the dark interior.

  She was wasting time. Better to let Ward handle this.

  Turning, she hurried down the block and a half that separated her place from Ward’s. Clouds hid the moon and stars but the streetlamps provided enough light for her to see by.

  She had no idea what time it was, only a sense that it must be quite late indeed. The streets were abandoned at this hour, lending an extra air of eeriness to her scurrying progress and raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

  Hazel finally reached Ward’s door and knocked, praying he was a light sleeper and that her rapping wouldn’t wake Meg.

  When he answered the door a moment later, he was fully dressed and fully awake. How was that possible at this hour?

  He frowned. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” His voice was low and almost angry.

  “I heard some noises from the Coopers’ place. I thought you should investigate.”

  Ward immediately transformed from an irritable bear of a man to a businesslike sheriff. “What kind of noises?” He’d already dropped onto the bench next to the door and was pulling on his boots.

  “It sounded as if someone was stumbling around inside. I peeked in the front window—”

  His head snapped up at that. “You did what?”

  “I figured it would help if I could see who it was.” She couldn’t quite keep the defensiveness from her tone.

  His jaw tightened and his lips thinned in an angry line. “Of all the fool notions. If whoever was inside had seen you, they could have tried to hurt you.”

  “Oh pish posh. I assume whoever it is, it’s the same mischief-makers who have been running about town causing trouble. Whoever is doing all this isn’t violent, he’s just trying to stir up trouble. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t see anyone from the window anyway.”

  He stood. “That doesn’t mean they couldn’t see you. We don’t know what this person, or persons, are capable of because they haven’t been confronted. Yet.”

  She heard the determination in his voice. She wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his ire.

  Ward stood and reached inside a cabinet mounted high on the wall near the door. When he drew out a gun and holster, she gasped.

  “Surely that’s not necessary.”

  His expression closed off as he buckled it on. “Let’s hope not. But it’s best to be prepared.”

  Hazel began to regret she’d come here. If something happened to him—

  She saw him straighten, then hesitate, glancing toward the stairs. His expression shifted into frustration and uncertainty.

  “Go do your job,” she said. “I’ll stay here with Meg until you get back.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Lock the door behind me.”

  Did he think someone would be fool enough to break into the sheriff’s home? But she wouldn’t bother arguing the point. Instead she nodded and stepped past him into his home.

  Before he could leave, she placed a hand on his arm. “Please be careful.”

  Something flickered in his expression and his hand briefly closed over hers. Then he nodded and quickly made his exit.

  Hazel locked the door as he’d requested, then leaned against it with her eyes closed, sending up a silent prayer for his safety.

  * * *

  Ward marched down the street, his lips set in a grim line. It wasn’t seemly to leave Hazel in his home, but he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to do his job. Under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be safe to send her and Meg over to her place.

  This was all getting out of hand. Turnabout was a peaceful town for the most part and it was his job to make certain it stayed that way. It was time to put an end to this little crime spree so things could settle back down into some semblance of normal.

  But with all that was changing in his life, he had a feeling that normal would never look quite the same as it had before.

  Ward reached Nate Cooper’s saddlery shop and slipped around to the back. Sure enough, the rear entrance was ajar, the doorframe splintered where the lock had held it closed. He quietly stepped over the debris and slipped inside. He spotted a crowbar propped against the doorframe. No doubt that was how the intruder had gotten in. It was likely also the noise Hazel had heard.

  Things were quiet now, but since the crowbar was still here he figured the intruder was still here as well. Ward moved to the main shop and though he found quite a bit of evidence that someone had been here, the perpetrator was nowhere in sight.

  Borrowing a lamp from the shop counter, he lit it and returned to the busted door. There were tracks all right, and from the size of them they’d been made by a youth or a small man.

  He returned to the shop area and set the lamp on the counter, deciding to search every possible hiding place.

  He spun around when he heard a rustling noise behind him. Then he heard a growled whisper. “Run, it’s the sheriff!”

  He tried to give chase, but one of them sent a large storage shelf crashing in his path. By the time he made his way over the obstacle, the only sign of his quarry was the sound of pounding footsteps off to his left.

  There! He spotted a shadowy form, behind the apothecary shop, sprinting toward Oak Street. Probably planning to cut through the woods and then take one of the half-dozen footpaths that branched off in different directions. If he didn’t catch up with him before he got to the wooded area, he’d never catch him in the dark.

  The runner was quick—he no doubt had his escape route already planned out. Ward’s only chance to catch him was to cut through the schoolyard and try to head him off before he reached the edge of town.

  Ward was already moving before the plan had fully formed in his mind. His quarry had disappeared into the shadows again, but Ward was confident he was still out there and hadn’t veered course. The faint sound of running footsteps confirmed his gut feeling.

  Whoever it was the first intruder had called out to, the two weren’t running together. Either they’d split up and the partner had already made his escape or he’d decided to hide in the dark until Ward was gone. But there was no time to worry about that right now; he needed to keep this one in his sights.

  He pictured the school grounds in his mind, moving as quickly as he could over the terrain in the dark. Too bad there were no streetlamps in this area. If only this cloud cover would clear so he could get even a glimpse of the runner’s face.

  Then his foot caught on something that wasn’t supposed to be there and Ward found himself pitching forward. He struggled to catch himself, to regain his balance. But his head slammed into something hard and there was an explosion of lights behind his eyes before the darkness overtook him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hazel sat in one of the two chairs in Ward’s kitchen, her hands in her lap. Her options for seating had been limited. The two chairs here at the table. The bench near the front door. And the sofa that was currently made up to serve as Ward’s bed. She’d climbed the stairs to check in on Meg a couple of times now—luckily the child seemed to be a sound sleeper.

  This was the first time she’d been inside Ward’s living quarters and it felt slightly scandalous, like an invasion of his privacy. Still, she couldn�
��t help but be fascinated by this new glimpse into the man himself.

  The place was every bit as small as it had seemed from the outside, and sparsely furnished. Everything was neat and squared away, though there were signs that Meg’s presence was starting to add a more lived-in quality to the place.

  Otherwise, there was a disappointing lack of personal touches here. But there had been one item she’d noticed when she looked in on Meg. There, on the top of his chest of drawers, was a music box, one that had belonged to Bethany. She knew, because she had given it to her friend on her tenth birthday. She’d saved her money to purchase it and brought it home from her visit to New York that summer. Its presence there, among his own things, had seemed poignant, had brought an unexpected lump to her throat.

  There was a sentimental side to the normally no-nonsense sheriff that few people saw. Not that she’d needed this additional proof. She had seen it in the way he was with Bethany. And it was also there in his interactions with Meg.

  Hazel looked at the wooden clock on the mantle. Ward had been gone for quite some time now. What if something had happened? What if this criminal was much more dangerous than Ward had believed? She remembered the weapon he’d strapped on and shivered as she considered the possibilities.

  Rubbing her hands over her forearms, Hazel moved to the front window and pushed aside the curtain. Except for a moth circling the nearby streetlamp, nothing stirred, at least not in her line of vision. What was happening? Had he caught the criminal and was busy locking him up and informing the proper parties? Had he given chase perhaps and was even now circling back? Had there been a fight and he was hurt, needing help?

  She dropped the curtain and moved back to the center of the room, unable to keep still. Why hadn’t she brought some sewing to keep her hands busy or even a book? Just waiting, imagining, was hard on her nerves.

  Should she go for help? Even if she could leave Meg alone, who would she go to?

  She’d thought for a while now that the town should hire a deputy. Turnabout had grown to the extent that it was too much for one man, even if that one man was Ward Gleason. It wasn’t fair for him to be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. In fact, she would bring it up at the very next town meeting.

  Then she grimaced. She wouldn’t be here for the next town meeting. How Turnabout handled its peacekeeping needs would no longer be her concern.

  Then she reconsidered. Just because she was moving away didn’t mean she couldn’t say her piece to the town council before she left. Someone needed to stand up for Ward since he wasn’t likely to stand up for himself.

  And speaking of Ward, what was keeping him?

  * * *

  When Ward woke up, it took him a moment to remember where he was. With a groan he pushed himself up off the ground. How long had he been out? The culprits he’d been chasing were no doubt long gone by now.

  As he shifted to a seated position, he saw a coil of rope in the grass. A student’s forgotten jump rope perhaps? It was no doubt what he’d tripped over.

  He pulled a rumpled handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his head. It came away with blood, but not a great deal. He gingerly got to his feet, testing his sense of balance, then slowly headed back the way he’d come.

  He paused at the Coopers’ place and secured the door as best he could. He’d check things out later; this would have to do for now. He’d left Hazel alone at his place way too long.

  Despite the pounding in his head, Ward approached his home at a fast walk. He’d been gone much longer than he’d intended—from the look of the eastern horizon, it would be dawn soon. It was imperative he get Hazel back to her own place before the town stirred.

  He hadn’t quite reached his door when it swung open and Hazel stood there, a look of intense relief on her face. Surely those weren’t tear tracks on her face?

  “Thank goodness you’re back. I was getting so worried.” The hand she used to push back a tendril of hair trembled slightly.

  She had been worried. And likely scared as well.

  He had a sudden urge to gather her close in his arms and soothe away her worries. It was all he could do to keep his arms down at his sides. “So sorry to have alarmed you. The time got away from me.” She didn’t need to know about his clumsy accident. But before he could say anything else, her eyes widened and she closed the gap between them.

  “What’s that on your forehead? Did that villain hit you?” Her whole demeanor was an endearing mix of worry and outrage.

  Again he had to fight an overwhelming desire to reach for her. All of this unfamiliar emotion must be a reaction to the fall he’d taken.

  “I took a little tumble,” he said, trying not to worry her. “But it’s nothing much. Just a scratch.”

  She didn’t appear the least bit reassured. In fact, just the opposite. “Maybe I should fetch Doc Pratt to have a look at you.”

  That was the last thing he needed right now. “I’m fine. And you need to get on home. We can talk in the morning.”

  As usual, she ignored his concerns. “It is morning. What happened? Did you catch him?”

  Ward shook his head, giving way to his feelings of self-disgust. “No. And I didn’t get close enough to be able to identify him either.” He was beginning to believe he was as inept as folks were starting to hint at.

  She touched his arm, suddenly all sympathy. “Don’t blame yourself. You’ll catch him soon.”

  He ignored the platitude, just as he tried to ignore the enticing warmth of her touch. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly five.”

  He really needed to get Hazel away from here now. “I think it best if you go on home. I need to clean up and try to get a little sleep myself before I start the day in earnest.” Not that he actually expected to get any sleep, but he was trying to play on her sympathy since nothing else was working.

  It worked. She was immediately contrite. “Oh yes, of course. I wasn’t thinking. I can go get Meg and take her with me now if you like. That way you won’t—”

  “No, let her sleep. In fact, I’ll keep Meg with me or find someone else to watch her at least until lunchtime. So feel free to sleep as late as you like.”

  “That’s not necessary, I—”

  “I’ve kept you up long enough,” he said firmly. “We can continue this discussion after we’ve both had some rest.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d escort you home, but—”

  “But you can’t leave Meg alone. Don’t worry—I came here by myself and I can return the same way.”

  The clouds parted just then, allowing the moon to cast a brighter glow over the town, and Hazel gasped. “Your forehead—that’s more than just a scratch. And it’s bleeding.”

  Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at his cut. Using her other hand, she brushed his hair out of the way.

  How warm and soft her touch felt, how sweetly tender. She’d stepped closer, to better examine the cut in the dim light, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, smell the flowery scent of her soap. Her lips looked soft, inviting. Would they taste as sweet as they looked?

  Her gaze met his and she must have seen something of what he was feeling reflected there. Her own eyes widened and her breath hitched. But there was no recoil, no fear, only something very like anticipation. It would take so little effort to close the gap between them that it seemed only right that he do so.

  He’d actually leaned in to kiss her before he realized just how close to disaster he was taking them.

  The sound of a throat clearing broke the moment. Ward jerked his head around and Tim Hill, the lamplighter, was watching them with a shocked expression.

  Ward swallowed a groan. The man was almost as big a gossip as Eunice Ortolon.

  He took a step back, trying to keep his demeanor casual as his
mind whirled with thoughts of what implications Tim would read into what he’d seen.

  Hoping to take control of the situation, Ward addressed the lamplighter. “Tim, would you mind escorting Miss Andrews back to her place? She came by here to report on a break-in at the Cooper place. I’d escort her myself but Meg is asleep and I can’t leave a little girl like her alone, even for so short a time.”

  He sent up a silent prayer that his offhand explanation was enough to nip the gossip in the bud.

  Tim closed his gaping mouth and tipped his hat Hazel’s way. “It’d be my pleasure, ma’am.” But Ward noticed the light of speculation still burned bright in the man’s eyes. The man was clearly not entirely satisfied with Ward’s explanation.

  Hazel, however, smiled pleasantly and fell into step beside the lamplighter. Did she not know how this must have looked? Or did she care so little for her reputation?

  Ward watched until they disappeared from view, then turned and went inside. He shut the door, then just stood there, hands jammed in his pockets. What had just happened? How could he have so lost control that he’d actually considered kissing Hazel? Not only considered it but actually started to act on the impulse.

  Perhaps that blow to the head had affected him more than he’d thought. Whatever the case, he might have just put Hazel’s reputation at risk. And that was something he couldn’t just shrug off.

  He slowly moved up the stairs to look in on Meg. She still slept soundly, Chessie in her arms.

  Pugs glanced up from his pallet on the floor and his tail thumped drowsily.

  Ward turned and went back downstairs where he took a seat on the couch. He’d destroyed his sister’s life both physically and mentally. It seemed now he was in danger of repeating his careless destruction with Hazel, only in her case it was her reputation he had put at risk.

  He bowed his head and began to pray in earnest.

  * * *

  Hazel slowly climbed the stairs to her living quarters, not bothering with a lamp. For just a moment back there it had appeared Ward intended to kiss her. But something had stopped him, even before Mr. Hill had interrupted them.