Because he was pretty sure Hazel was going to follow through with her plans to leave Turnabout.
And to leave him.
Ward slammed his fist on his desk. This self-pity was getting him nowhere. Time to focus back on his job.
If he couldn’t do anything about the things happening in Turnabout, perhaps he should try following up on some of his leads where Meg was concerned.
He grabbed his hat and headed out the door, turning toward the telegraph office.
Fifteen minutes later, when he returned to his office, he found it was no longer unoccupied.
“Hi, Sheriff Gleason!” Meg came running up to him, arms outstretched for a hug. “Are you surprised?”
“I certainly am, Half-pint.” He reached down and picked her up. “But what’s all this?”
His desk had been cleared of its normal clutter and was now spread with a small cloth topped with a feast. Hazel stood nearby smiling expectantly.
“Miss Hazel said since you were too busy to get your own lunch, we should bring it to you. She called it an office picnic surprise.” Meg giggled. “Isn’t that funny?”
He tapped the little girl’s nose and set her down, meeting the clever dressmaker’s gaze. “Miss Hazel says lots of funny things.”
She had a very smug, pleased-with-herself grin on her face. Did she suspect his reason for cancelling?
Shaking his head at Hazel’s ability to get around his attempts to keep his distance, Ward turned back to Meg. “It looks like you’re feeling better today than you were last night.”
She nodded. “I’m all better. Dr. Pratt is a nice man.” Then she tugged on his hand. “Come see what all we brought.”
Ward allowed her to lead him across the room and studied the food arranged picnic-style on his desk. There were thick slices of roast liberally topped with a rich-looking gravy, butter beans cooked with bacon and some smothered potatoes. And the picnic was staged for three.
He raised a brow as he turned back to Hazel. “You prepared all of this?”
She grinned. “You are not the only person in this town, Ward Gleason, who knows how to purchase food from Daisy Fulton.” She waved him to a chair. “Now, if you will say grace, Meg and I are ready to eat even if you aren’t.”
And for the first time today, the smile that curved his lips felt genuine and unstrained.
Once he’d done as he was told and they dug into the meal, Meg started chattering away about her morning.
“I made a new friend today,” she told Ward proudly.
“You did? That sounds like fun.”
“Oh yes. Her name is Joy. And she has a doll named Rosie so Chessie has a new friend too.” She squirmed happily in her seat. “We had a tea party today and Miss Hazel gave us pretty cups and a teapot to use. And we borrowed one of her music boxes so we would have music for our tea party.”
“That sounds like it must have been a very fine party.” Yep, Hazel was going to make a good mother for Half-pint. Too bad that couldn’t happen right here in Turnabout so he could be a part of it.
Then again, it was probably best he wasn’t. But it was getting harder by the day to remember that being sheriff and having a family didn’t mix.
“I heard about the town meeting that’s been called.”
Hazel’s quiet statement and concerned look reinforced what he’d been thinking.
“There’s no need to discuss that now.” He tilted his head meaningfully Meg’s way.
But she didn’t take the hint. “I just wanted to let you know I plan to be there and so are a lot of other folks who support you.”
“It’s not necessary for you to be there. I’m sure some would find it a little too heated.” Again he indicated Meg.
Hazel got that stubborn, mulish expression on her face that indicated she was about to dig in her heels on something. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it. And by the way, Verity’s aunt will be watching over Joy and Meg this evening so the Coopers can go as well.”
At least she’d thought that far ahead. “There’s still no need for you to go out of your way. But if you must go, there’s certainly no need for you to get too deeply involved in the discussion.” There was no telling what she would say if push came to shove. Hazel was good at giving impassioned speeches when she felt strongly about something, but that was not what he needed right now.
She gave him a haughty look as she stabbed a few hapless beans with her fork. “As a citizen of this town, I have every right to speak my mind on the issues that affect it and that’s what I intend to do.”
That’s just what he was afraid of.
* * *
Hazel’s stomach was churning nervously as she walked to the town hall meeting with Verity and Nate. She hadn’t gotten a clear sense of what Ward was feeling at lunch today and she hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. The man held too much of his feelings inside, took too much blame and responsibility onto his broad shoulders.
What would the mood of those in attendance be—supportive, blaming, undecided? She knew with absolute certainty that Ward would not want her speaking up in his defense if things turned ugly—he’d all but said as much. But she wasn’t sure she could go along with that.
When they walked into the meeting room, it was already crowded. Hazel studied the room itself for a moment. Everything looked as it should—any traces of whatever had happened in here last night were gone.
The people here, however, were another matter. Folks were abuzz with talk. The room was packed and everyone was obviously feeling passionate about the upcoming discussion.
Her gaze immediately sought out Ward.
He sat at the front of the room with the town council but held himself slightly apart.
His gaze latched on to hers as soon as she looked his way and the connection was both immediate and intense. The fierce emtional link between them almost stole her breath. She’d already taken a half-step in his direction when his expression closed off and he deliberately looked away. The message was clear; she was to keep her distance.
Still feeling somewhat unsettled from what had just passed between them, Hazel returned to her assessment of the room. People were gathered in small groups and both voices and gestures were animated. How many of these folks were here to support Ward? And how many were ready to turn their backs on him?
One thing was for certain—no matter what Ward’s feelings were on the matter, she would not hold her tongue if insults started flying.
She made her way across the room and noted that several of those she assumed were Ward’s detractors wouldn’t quite make eye contact with her. Being Ward’s fiancée put her into this discussion, whether Ward wanted to admit that or not.
She caught snatches of conversations from various groups.
“The hooligans have no shame! And no one’s doing anything...”
“He didn’t have trouble handling the job until recently. If he’d just put aside these distractions, he...”
“Everyone knows who did it. Why won’t he just...”
Verity touched her arm. “Why don’t we take a seat? It’s almost time.”
With a nod, Hazel walked down the center aisle, head high. She took a seat in the very front row, eyeing Ward defiantly.
Almost immediately, the mayor pounded his gavel and the talk slowed as folks began to take their seats.
Once things settled down, Mayor Sanders called the assembly to order. “This special town meeting has been called today to discuss the crisis that has hit our town.”
Hazel shifted irritably in her seat. The man was being unnecessarily dramatic.
“First, we’ll let Sheriff Gleason give us a report of what progress he’s made in handling these criminal activities. Then we’ll give anyone else who wants to speak on the matter the opportunity to do so.”
The mayor then swiveled his chair slightly to face Ward and leaned back. “Sheriff Gleason, would you please give us a report of what your investigation into this rash of crimes has unearthed to date?”
As if he’d been merely asked to discuss the weather, Ward nodded and got unhurriedly to his feet. “Over the past three and a half weeks, there have been eight incidents involving six different locations. On two occasions, a culprit was spotted but in both cases it was just a split-second glimpse, not enough to make an identification. I’ve investigated each scene and talked to anyone who might have information, but so far I have uncovered very few clues to point to the identity of the perpetrator.”
Glen Bastrop, the town councilman who sat to the mayor’s right, leaned forward. “In other words, you’ve made no progress.” His tone, at least, had been matter-of-fact and not accusatory.
“I didn’t say that. I’ve learned a lot about how this person works and thinks.” Ward shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s not enough to identify the individual, at least not yet.”
“Seems to me the only identifying that needs to be done is which set of Lytle boys are guilty.” The comment had come from somewhere behind Hazel.
She turned to see Saul Carson, the rancher whose horses had been released, standing, feet braced and arms crossed.
Elmer Lytle sprang to his feet across the aisle. “It ain’t my boys!”
Orson Lytle stood as well, his posture even more combative. “It certainly ain’t mine!”
Mayor Sanders’s gavel came down in several hard raps. “Enough! If Sheriff Gleason says he isn’t ready to make an arrest yet, then that’s the way it is. We’re here to discuss, not accuse.” He leaned back again. “Now, does anyone have anything productive to say?”
Tim Hill stood. “This has dragged out way too long. We all want to know, when are you going to be ready to make an arrest?” His question was followed by a swell of supportive murmurings.
“As soon as I have proof of who did this, I’ll make the arrest.”
Did anyone else see how tightly Ward’s jaw was clenched, despite his seemingly impassive demeanor?
Nate Cooper stood. “I for one applaud Sheriff Gleason’s desire to not act until there’s solid proof. It won’t do any of us any good to act in haste and put the wrong person behind bars.”
“I agree.” This time it was Adam Barr who stood. “Sheriff Gleason is a man of integrity and dedication. I think we should trust him to do his job.”
Hazel glanced around the room and was pleased to see a number of heads nodding. Did Ward see it as well?
“That’s all well and good,” Gilbert Drummond, the town’s undertaker, said. “But our town has been growing and changing quite a bit lately. And Sheriff Gleason’s situation has changed as well. He’s acquired new responsibilities, responsibilities that can be distracting for a lawman. While we can all agree that Sheriff Gleason was the right man for the job in the past, perhaps it’s time for him to step down if he can’t do the job we pay him for any longer.”
Arnold Davis stood almost as soon as the undertaker stopped speaking. “This has been building for a long time. Look at how he handled the kidnapping of that little Walker girl last year. Didn’t lift a finger to stop it, didn’t play a part in rescuing her.”
Riley Walker jumped in at that. “Now see here, there’s nothing wrong with the way the sheriff conducted himself. I knew Guy better than anyone and I never saw that kidnapping coming—there’s no way the sheriff could have prevented it. And Guy was captured two towns over, completely out of Sheriff Gleason’s jurisdiction. To want to replace the sheriff over that is—”
Mayor Sanders held up his hand. “Now, now, no one is saying Sheriff Gleason should be replaced. The town council merely wants to gather the input from the town on this very volatile situation.”
Volatile? Hazel had heard enough. She stood, ignoring the warning look Ward shot her way. “I think you’re looking at this in the wrong light.”
“It figures that she’d speak up for him,” someone behind her muttered. Hazel stiffened but didn’t waste time trying to identify the speaker.
“As Mr. Drummond mentioned, the town is growing. And because of that, it’s unfair of you to expect the sheriff to continue to do this job alone. One man cannot be available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I think it’s time Turnabout hired a deputy.”
Councilman Jed Carpenter leaned forward. “So you agree Sheriff Gleason can no longer handle the job.”
“That’s not what I said.” Had the man deliberately twisted her words? “I said that no one man should be expected to do it.”
Someone else stood to speak and so it went for the next forty-five minutes. Some of the speakers were supportive of the job Ward was doing, some were detractors.
It frustrated Hazel that Ward wasn’t defending himself against some of the more egregious statements. The only time he spoke up at all was to answer questions directed specifically at him.
The meeting finally ended with the mayor thanking everyone for their open and honest comments and declaring that he and the council would take everything they’d heard this evening under consideration going forward, but for now Ward Gleason was still sheriff.
Hazel asked Verity and Nate to go on without her and to let Meg know she’d be along to get her soon.
“Ward will walk me home,” she assured Verity. She didn’t intend to give him a choice.
Most of the folks had left the meeting room by the time Ward finished speaking to the mayor. When he turned and saw her still there, he checked for a moment, then approached her. “Where are the Coopers?”
“They headed home to check on the girls. I told them you would escort me back.”
“Did you now?”
She raised a brow. “I wasn’t mistaken, was I?”
Rolling his eyes, he extended his elbow.
With a smile she placed her hand there and the two of them moved to the door, like the happily engaged couple they were pretending to be.
Once they were out on the sidewalk, she gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to sit through that.”
He kept his gaze focused straight ahead. “It’s part of the job.”
“I just got so angry at some of the things that were said.”
Ward rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a sideways glance. “Look, I appreciate your show of support tonight, but perhaps it would be best if you stayed out of this in the future.”
“Why should I? I have just as much right as anyone else in this town to express my opinion.”
“I know you mean well but I don’t need you to make excuses for me or defend me.”
His words stung and Hazel wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
But he wasn’t done yet. “You’re leaving soon, remember. The business of this town will soon no longer be of any concern to you.”
Had he already given up on their promise to pray for direction before making a final decision? Or had he already received his answer?
This time she knew exactly how to respond. “What a mean thing to say, Ward Gleason. Even if I leave here, that doesn’t mean I’ll no longer care what becomes of any of you.”
He grimaced and nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”
She was immediately contrite. Of course he was. He probably hadn’t slept at all last night. And if she knew him, he probably wouldn’t get any real sleep tonight. “I meant what I said about Turnabout needing a deputy. The folks in this town are going to work you into an early grave if you let them.”
“It’s only because everyone is on edge about when and where this culprit will strike next. And I can’t blame them. If I can catch him, things will settle back down again.”
“When, not if.”
He ga
ve her hand a squeeze. “You’re right, when I catch this guy, then things will go back to normal.”
Hazel wasn’t sure what normal was anymore. So much had changed that had nothing to do with the criminal incidents—their engagement, her plans to move, Meg’s appearance in their lives.
Did he realize that things would never go back to exactly what they were before?
And that maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing.
* * *
Ward didn’t tarry when he escorted Hazel home. He made sure she and a sleepy Meg made it inside her home okay and then headed to his place. He’d try to get a few hours’ shut-eye and then head out to patrol again.
That meeting tonight was still eating at his gut. It had been hard to hear people criticize the job he’d been doing. Something that had been made even more difficult because they were right. He hadn’t caught the criminal yet. And he had been distracted by Meg and Hazel’s intrusion into his well-ordered world.
Even Hazel, his self-proclaimed biggest supporter, didn’t seem to think he could handle the job on his own anymore.
And he didn’t see any kind of end to his split focus in sight, at least not until Hazel moved away and took Meg with her.
He reached over and rubbed the forearm where she’d rested her hand as they walked down the sidewalk. It had felt good to have her on his arm, to feel the soft warmth of her touch, the sense of her nearness and comfort in his presence.
No, he just couldn’t make himself wish for the day she boarded that train bound for New York to come any sooner.
Was that wrong of him?
Dear Father, I don’t know what to pray for anymore, so I’ll just pray for this: Thy will be done.
A Tailor-Made Husband Page 17