“Are you taking me to Miss Hazel’s now?”
“No, I’m taking you to see Dr. Pratt. He’s going to make you feel better.” Ward prayed that was true.
He wouldn’t delay getting Meg to the doctor by detouring to Hazel’s place but he did need to let her know what was going on. If for no other reason than that she would be worried if he didn’t show up with Meg at the appointed time. He could drop Meg off with the doctor and then run by Hazel’s to let her know what was going on. But that didn’t—
As he approached Dr. Pratt’s place, he spotted Riley Walker, who lived in the house next door.
The man leaned forward on his porch rail. “Hey, Sheriff, is something wrong?”
“Meg here isn’t feeling well. Would you mind going down to Miss Andrews’s place and asking her to meet me at Doc’s?”
Riley straightened and started down his steps. “Of course.”
That problem taken care of, Ward hurried to the clinic, praying it was nothing serious.
Chapter Seventeen
Hazel practically ran all the way to Dr. Pratt’s clinic. As soon as she entered, she rushed up to Ward and placed a hand on his arm, trying to catch her breath. “Mr. Walker told me Meg was sick. How is she?”
Ward closed his hand over hers. “I don’t know, Doc hasn’t finished examining her yet.”
“What was wrong with her?”
“She’s got a fever and a stomachache.” He gave her a haunted look. “Do you know she was afraid to tell me she was sick because she thought I’d get angry?”
“Oh, that poor lamb.”
Before they could say more, Dr. Pratt came out of the examining room.
They both turned to face him and Hazel braced herself for whatever he had to say. Then she felt Ward’s hand snake around her shoulder and give her a squeeze and she suddenly felt like whatever the news was, the two of them would handle it together.
“Where’s Meg?” Hazel asked.
“What’s wrong with her?” Ward asked at the same time.
“Meg is with my wife, who is giving her a draught to make her more comfortable. As for what’s wrong with her—” he shrugged “—children get fevers from time to time for seemingly no reason at all. It’s part of growing up.”
“But you don’t think it’s serious?”
“No. In fact she’ll probably be her old self by morning.”
Hazel inhaled her first calm breath since Mr. Walker had delivered the news. “What do we do now?”
“Well, since I take it neither of you are familiar with taking care of children who are ill, it might be best to let her stay here overnight, just so we can keep an eye on her. Betty can sit with her.”
Feeling more reassured the longer he spoke, Hazel smiled. “Thank you, that’s a very kind offer. And I think we’ll take you up on it.”
She cut a quick glance Ward’s way to make certain he had no objection. At his nod she turned back to the doctor. “But I don’t want to put your wife to any extra trouble. Besides, Meg would be happier if she had someone she knows sit with her. Would it be all right if I stay?” She was pretty sure she wouldn’t get much sleep at home anyway.
Dr. Pratt nodded with an understanding smile. “Of course.” He spread his hands. “Meg is the only patient here tonight so there are extra beds in the clinic and a couple of comfortable chairs for visitors. Feel free to make use of them.”
Ward gave her shoulder another squeeze, then let his arm drop. “I’ll stay too.”
“If you like.” Dr. Pratt looked from one to the other of them, his expression indulgent, as if they were Meg’s actual parents.
Hazel turned back to Ward. “There’s no point in both of us staying with her.”
But he shook his head. “She’s my responsibility too.” He rubbed his chin. “I tell you what, though, why don’t we take shifts? I’ll escort you home and come back to sit with Half-pint for a few hours. Then, when it’s time for me to make my rounds, you can take over.”
“I don’t know...”
Dr. Pratt cleared his throat. “If you don’t want to go back home, we have a spare bedroom you can use until your shift.”
Hazel thought that over. The doctor’s home was attached to the clinic so she would be only steps away if something happened with Meg. And it made sense that they take shifts. She met Ward’s gaze, giving him her best attempt at sternness. “I want your word that you’ll fetch me if Meg gets worse. And that you’ll let me take my shift.”
He raised his hands palms out in a sign of surrender. “I promise.”
Hazel turned to the doctor. “Then, if you’re sure Mrs. Pratt won’t mind, I’ll take you up on your very kind offer. Right after I go in and say good night to Meg.”
* * *
Ward left the clinic to do some late-night patrolling. He’d got in the habit of making extra rounds the past several nights in an effort to catch, or at least deter, the town’s habitual lawbreaker.
He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. At least it appeared Dr. Pratt had been right, Half-pint was going to be fine. She was already sleeping more comfortably and hadn’t even stirred when Hazel had come in to take her shift.
But tonight’s scare had revealed something to him in a very powerful way.
Half-pint had come to mean a great deal to him, had actually begun to feel a part of him. Discovering she was sick and that he hadn’t even realized it had, for just a moment, put him right back into the skin of that scared youth who’d found his sister twisted and crumpled on the barn floor all those years ago.
Seeing Half-pint in pain had stabbed him with a keen sense of helplessness, knowing he couldn’t take any of it on himself for her. It was a feeling he didn’t like, not one bit.
The other thing he’d discovered tonight, if he was being entirely honest with himself, was that Hazel was becoming important to his world as well. Standing side by side with her while waiting to learn if there was something seriously wrong with Meg, watching his own worry mirrored in her expression, had given him a taste of what it would be like to share his responsibilities and burdens with her. It had touched something deep inside him, something warm and vulnerable and yearning.
Something he hadn’t let himself feel in a very long time.
Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to let himself feel even now.
Ward resisted the urge to growl out loud. The lack of sleep was starting to wear on him. He needed to focus on his job, stay alert for any signs that the culprit was skulking about.
It frustrated him that he still wasn’t any closer to capturing the perpetrator than he’d been before. There was something about this whole situation he was missing, some reason whoever was doing this was, well, doing this. At least there hadn’t been any further incidents since the one at the Coopers’ nearly a week ago. Maybe the culprit had finally tired of the whole thing. Or accomplished whatever it was he’d wanted to accomplish.
An out-of-place sound caught his attention, a disruption he couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it had stirred up several of the dogs in the area as well. It appeared to be coming from the vicinity of Main Street.
Ward headed off at a run, praying it was nothing more than someone out for a late-night stroll or a tomcat on the prowl.
But his gut told him it was something more.
He slipped behind the town hall and stopped in his tracks. Someone had pried open the back door, which now hung open. Whoever was doing all this had just taken his crime spree to a whole new level. It took a train-car-load of audacity to break into the governing seat of the town this way.
Ward slipped inside but knew he wouldn’t find the culprit there—the dogs had no doubt marked the progress of the invader’s getaway flight. He lit a lamp, bracing himself for whatever damage he’d see inside.
The large room used for trials and town meetings was in disarray, with chairs tipped over and pictures on the wall tilted crazily, but nothing more than nuisance activity. When he stuck his head in the mayor’s office, however, he found an entirely different story. Books had been pulled off of shelves, papers scattered and torn, an inkwell spilled on a rug in front of the desk and the town map that normally hung on the wall behind the mayor’s desk was down on the worktable and the glass that had covered it was cracked.
If Mayor Sanders wanted another reason to fire Ward, he’d certainly have it now.
Taking a deep breath, Ward moved on to check the rest of the building.
It was nearly dawn by the time he returned to the clinic. He’d spent some time at Town Hall looking for any clues that the intruder might have left behind but they were scant.
Then he’d had the pleasure of waking the mayor and informing him of what had happened. That meeting had not gone well. Ward was definitely ready for some more pleasant company.
He stepped into the clinic to see Hazel sitting in the outer office, sipping on a cup of coffee.
“How’s Meg this morning?”
“A little quieter than normal but otherwise fine. Dr. Pratt is checking on her now.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I never realized all the little worries that go into parenting.”
Is that how she saw herself, as Meg’s mother? He was pretty sure that’s how Meg viewed her as well.
That boded well for the plan that had been forming in the back of his mind. It was looking more and more like no one was going to come forward to take responsibility for Half-pint. And even if some long-lost relative were found, he didn’t think anyone would do a better job of raising, or loving, the little girl than Hazel would. He thought it would be best all the way around if he asked Hazel to take Meg in even if she and he didn’t marry. That would give Half-pint the opportunity to grow up in a good home with a mother who loved her.
Even if that home was in New York.
Ward shoved that thought away as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed a shave.
“Dr. Pratt says I can take her home just as soon as he’s done checking her.”
“That’s a relief. If you don’t mind, I need to get back to my place and get cleaned up before I start the day.”
* * *
Hazel frowned. Had Ward been up all night? Studying him more closely, she saw beyond the weariness in his eyes to the tightness of his jaw. “What’s wrong? Did something happen after you left here last night?”
He gave a short nod. “Someone broke into Town Hall and made a mess of the meeting room. They also did significant damage to the mayor’s office itself.”
“Oh, Ward, I’m so sorry.” Of all places to attack, the criminal couldn’t have struck a sharper blow to Ward other than striking his own place. She saw the frustration and self-recrimination on his face.
“I was too late, again. Maybe everyone is right.”
“No.” She reached out for him instinctively, placing a hand on his chest. She couldn’t bear to hear that self-doubt in his voice. “Don’t even think that. You’re a good sheriff but you’re just one man. You can’t be everywhere at once and no one should expect that of you.”
He placed his hands over hers, pressing it more firmly against his chest. The beat of his heart under her hand was strong and steady and his gaze bore into hers as if seeking some answer there. For an eternity of seconds they stood that way, gazes and hands locked together.
Then his expression closed, he gave her hand a squeeze and he stepped back.
But her spirits fell when she realized her words and his tender gesture hadn’t made any difference, the self-recrimination was still there in his eyes.
“Tell Half-pint I’ll be by to check on her later this morning.” And with a tip of his hat, he turned and made his exit.
Hazel watched him leave, raising her hand to her cheek. She could still feel the beat of his heart, the warmth of his hand capturing hers. Hadn’t he felt that connection between them the way she had?
If he had, he was doing a poor job of showing it.
But she was being selfish, thinking about her own feelings. He’d been dealt a blow tonight and it had obviously hit him hard. The fact that he’d left without looking in on Meg was evidence enough he was not himself.
She wanted to help him but didn’t quite know how.
Why was this person plaguing the town this way? Did he consider it a lark of some sort, a prank to boast of? Was it really a boy or could it be a grown man? Whoever it was, did he have any idea how his actions were affecting good, decent folks even beyond the direct victims?
He should be ashamed of himself no matter how old he was.
Hazel paced across the room and back again.
What would the mayor do? Surely they wouldn’t seriously consider firing Ward? That would—
Dr. Pratt walked in, then paused and gave her a searching look. “Is everything all right?”
She forced a smile. “Yes, of course. I’m just anxious to get Meg back home.”
“Of course. You can go on back to see her. You can take her home as soon as you’re ready.”
With a nod, Hazel headed back to the patient area of the clinic. She pasted a smile on her face, imbuing it with as much warmth as she could muster.
No point in giving Meg something to worry about.
She was doing enough worrying for the both of them.
Chapter Eighteen
By midmorning, one would never be able to tell by looking at Meg that she had been sick the night before. She and Verity’s daughter, Joy, were sitting on the floor in a pool of sunlight by the display window, playing with their dolls while being watched over by an indolent Buttons.
“Does it ever get any easier?” Hazel asked Verity. “Being responsible for a little one, I mean.”
Verity glanced fondly at the little girls. “I’m afraid not. But never doubt for a moment that it isn’t worth every bit of worry. A child is an incredible gift from God, and one that brings such abiding joy.” The milliner touched her stomach in a protective gesture.
Hazel had no trouble relating to what Verity had just said. She might not be Meg’s blood kin, but she loved the child every bit as much as a real mother could.
“I heard about the break-in at Town Hall last night.” Verity’s tone was full of sympathy and understanding.
Hazel grimaced. “You and everyone else in town.”
“I hear the mayor has called a special meeting to discuss this whole vandalism matter with the town.”
“I’m not surprised. He hasn’t been secretive about how unhappy he is that Ward hasn’t made an arrest yet. It’s almost as if folks are blaming Ward for these incidents.”
Verity touched her arm lightly. “Don’t worry. I think the mayor will be surprised at just how many friends Ward has in this town.”
“But how many of those people will be willing to speak up in his support?”
“He can definitely count on Nate and me.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
Ready to change the subject, Hazel waved to the dress form that was situated near the large mirror on the back wall. “What do you think of the progress I’ve made on my wedding gown?”
Verity grinned. “I noticed when I came in that you have it on display. That was deliberate, I take it.”
Hazel nodded with a demure grin. It was strategically placed, putting it in easy view from just about every portion of the shop. “I’m so proud of it that I wanted everyone to see.”
“To see that it’s not yet ready, you mean.”
“That too.”
Eve Dawson came in just then, wanting to speak to Verity about a new hat. Hazel left them to it while she headed for the wedding gown
in progress. Grabbing her pincushion, she went to work pinning a row of lace across the bodice, taking great pains to ensure the row was perfectly straight. There would be two dozen such fussy, overlapping rows before she was done.
As Hazel worked, she imagined what her real wedding dress might look like, the one she would make if she truly were to get married. It would be a smoky blue-gray color, the exact shade of Ward’s eyes, she decided, not this prim ivory.
Rather than a full skirt that would need a large number of stiff petticoats to support it, hers would be narrower, trumpet-shaped.
And no lace. Instead there would be satin cording creating subtle yet elegant patterns and perhaps a richly dressed satin underskirt that would peek out near the hem. The bodice would have some seed pearls or perhaps some soft floral appliqués.
The silhouette would be feminine yet strong.
She could imagine herself in such a dress, walking down the aisle to join her waiting groom, who would look at her with admiration and love.
But of course, imagining it was as close as she was likely to come.
The prick of the pin against her finger brought her focus back to the task at hand. She certainly didn’t want to get blood on the dress she was making. Because if she did go through with this sham of a marriage, she would be stuck wearing this dress.
Which, like the ceremony it would be part of, was superficial and without heart.
* * *
Ward’s day hadn’t gotten any better as the morning progressed. At the mayor’s insistence, he’d hauled in all four of the younger Lytle boys and questioned them individually about the incidents. By the end he’d been more convinced than ever that it couldn’t have been one of them. They were hotheads and were quite capable of destroying things in the heat of the moment. But none of them seemed conniving or patient enough to have planned and carried out these incidents.
Of course that wasn’t the answer the mayor wanted and it still didn’t lead him to any answers. By noon Ward was in a foul mood and sent word to Hazel that she and Meg should go on to lunch without him. Not only did he not want his mood to keep from souring their day, but ever since last night he’d wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to start pulling back from Half-pint a bit. It would help prepare the little girl for the not-too-distant day when he might have to send her away with Hazel.
A Tailor-Made Husband Page 16