WOMEN OF SURPRISE 01: A Surprise For Abigail

by Tracey J. Lyons

  "Wanda ... I mean, Miss McCurdy and I have known each other for several years. We are just acquaintances, nothing more."

  Now, why, Abigail wondered, was Cole making such an effort to distance himself from Miss McCurdy when she so obviously wanted Abigail to think the two shared a past?

  Deep down inside Cole had been hoping that the Sheriff and Wanda would never have met. But in a town this small he knew that would be impossible and was surprised it had taken this long for the two of them to run into each other.

  Wanda McCurdy couldn't hold a candle to Abigail Monroe. Wanda was brash and bawdy, while Miss Abigail was very much the lady. Glancing at Abigail's face, Cole recognized the doubt shadowing her features. Even if she didn't realize it at this moment, Abigail had more class and manners in one little finger that Wanda did in her entire body.

  He knew she had pluck and wanted her to show it now.

  As if she'd read his mind, Abigail said, "Miss McCurdy, I'm afraid that now isn't a good time for Mr. Stanton to have a visitor."

  Wanda looked downright insulted by this turn of events. Cole knew she expected to be the center of attention in any situation that involved her.

  "I see." Her face was flushed as her brown eyes flashed. Cole wanted to tell Wanda to put those claws of hers back in, but he figured the sheriff could hold her own in this battle.

  Facing off against Abigail, she asked, "When do you suppose would be a good time for Mr. Stanton to have a visitor?"

  "You can stop by the jail after dinner is served. Mr. Stanton is allowed one visitor before I lock up for the evening."

  Wanda was a bit put out by the answer, then turned her back and stomped off in the direction of the mercantile.

  Following the Sheriff into the shadows cast by the pole barn, he thought about how good if felt to be out of the cramped cell. He didn't care if this work release program was a bit unorthodox-it was refreshing to be outside.

  A man dressed in blue work pants and a heavy cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows walked towards them. Cole assumed he was the owner of the lumber yard.

  "Howdy." He greeted them as if they were paying customers. "You must be Cole Stanton."

  Cole nodded.

  "I'm Alexander Judson. Right pleased to have you around to help out. Seems like there was nothing going on in this town for months on end, and now everybody wants to build something."

  Removing his felt-brimmed hat, he rubbed his arm across his brow. "According to Miss Margaret and the Sheriff here, you're going to be here every day until the circuit judge comes along."

  "That's right, Mr. Judson," Sheriff Abigail said. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Cole noticed that the Sheriff was getting all fired up. Her fists were clenched by her side and her lips were pursed together. If that didn't signal a female hankering for a fight, Cole didn't know what did. He sure was glad that he wasn't going to be the one on the receiving end of her wrath this time.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Judson, did I hear correctly, you say you've spoken to my aunt about this?"

  "Well Mr. Wagner came over on her behalf."

  "Really."

  He nodded and Cole was amused to no end to see Mr. Judson being the one who looked like he'd swallowed a sour grape.

  "If you have everything under control, I'll just leave Mr. Stanton with you and come back this afternoon."

  "That'll be fine, Sheriff."

  Abigail was spitting mad at her aunt. She was going to get the matter of exactly who had control over the law in this town settled once and for all. Her brisk footsteps left small clouds of dust in their wake.

  "Abigail! Wait for me."

  Oh dear, in her haste to get home, she'd completely forgotten about Lydia. Slowing her steps, she waited for her cousin to catch up.

  "What has gotten in to you?" Lydia puffed as she kept pace with Abigail.

  "Aunt Margaret. She insists on my taking over as Sheriff and then she won't let me do my job. It's infuriating the way she controls this town."

  Pushing back a stray lock of her red hair, Lydia suggested, "Perhaps she wants to make sure that you're safe."

  As the mammoth house came in to full view, Abigail felt her anger cooling. "I can understand that, Lydia. In order for the people of this town to respect me, they have to be able to trust that I can make the right decisions when it comes to upholding the law. Right now, everyone seems to think Aunt Margaret came up with the idea to put Mr. Stanton on this work release program."

  "Is that what you think, Lydia?" Her voice raised a half octave.

  "Heavens, no!" Pausing on the steps leading to the front porch, Lydia said, "Goodness, I'd no idea that you were taking this job so seriously."

  "Of course I do, Lydia," Abigail scoffed. It was hard for her to admit, "This is the first time I've felt useful in ages. Edwin Quinn did his part months ago by taking the wind out of my sails, but no more. I enjoy this job."

  Leading the way into the house, Lydia held the door open for her. Smiling, she patted Abigail's arm. "I can tell. I'm sorry about what happened between you and Edwin."

  "Thank you." Squaring her shoulders, she added, "My broken engagement is a thing of the past. I'm starting my life anew right here in Surprise."

  "I'm glad to hear you say those words." Aunt Margaret was in the grand hallway sitting in her wheelchair with Anna standing close by her side.

  Without waiting a second longer, fearing she'd lose her courage, Abigail said, "Aunt Margaret, I need to have a few words with you."

  Her aunt frowned. Abigail could see that she was trying hard to look contrite, but it wasn't going to work this time.

  "This is about my interference in your work release program, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  While Anna turned the wheelchair around and headed back into the front sitting room, Abigail and Lydia exchanged worried glances.

  "Come in and sit, girls. Anna will bring us some tea and cookies," Aunt Margaret said, as if tea and cookies could solve the world's problems.

  With her aunt's wheelchair positioned in front of the fireplace, Abigail chose to sit across from her on a small overstuffed rose-colored chintz covered sofa; Lydia perched herself on the edge of a matching wing-back chair.

  It seemed that all eyes were turned towards her. Looking from her aunt's watery blue eyes, to Lydia's green ones, she cleared her throat purposely.

  "I know you mean well, Aunt Margaret. Don't get me wrong, but the work release program was my idea."

  "But-" her aunt started.

  "I don't like the way you and Mr. Wagner keep trying to control my job without my knowledge. I want it to stop, right now."

  "All right, dear."

  Blinking in surprise at how easily she'd just given in to her request, Abigail managed a shaky smile. "You don't mind?"

  "You are the sheriff, dear."

  Oh, something was fishy here. Aunt Margaret was a stubborn woman who liked to have everything go her way and she very rarely if ever, gave in. Abigail looked to Lydia for some guidance and all she did was shrug her delicate shoulders as she met Abigail's stare.

  "So tell me, how did Mr. Stanton react to his circumstances?"

  "He seemed fine with the idea of being out of jail. I've set the schedule for his work release time and everyone, including Mr. Judson, seems happy."

  Anna wheeled the mahogany tea cart into the room. She poured out three cups of steaming tea, and then picking up the silver serving tongs, placed a delicate sugar cookie on the plate beside each cup.

  Accepting her tea and cookie, Lydia said, "Mr. Stanton may be in a bit of trouble, but he seems like a fine gentleman to me."

  "I have to agree, Lydia. He's been here for Sunday dinner twice now, and has always been a gracious guest. He's well mannered; granted, his using a bit of shaving cream and a sharp razor wouldn't hurt."

  What was it about Cole Stanton that left these women besotted with him? Their conversation continued as if she weren't even in the room. Forcing herself to chew and
swallow the now tasteless cookie, Abigail waited for her temper to cool.

  "I could stop by Mr. Jules' store and pick up a shaving kit for him." That Lydia had the nerve to suggest doing such a thing infuriated Abigail all over again.

  Sipping her tea, Aunt Margaret glanced at Abigail over the rim of the fragile china cup. "What do you think, Abigail?"

  Studying her aunt for a full minute, and not finding any sign that she was just being condescending, Abigail formed her answer slowly, deliberately. "I suppose Mr. Stanton would be grateful for the opportunity to neaten himself up a bit."

  "And what of his clothing, Abigail?" Lydia persisted with her questions.

  "What of it?" she spat out. Aunt Margaret raised her eyebrows in disapproval.

  "I heard his bags were stolen right out from underneath him when he was traveling on the train. He could use an extra set of clothing now that he's going to be working. Honestly, Abigail, you've no idea how long he's going to be incarcerated. If it's the town's responsibility to feed and house him, then it should also be our responsibility to supply him with clothing."

  In all the time that she'd missed seeing her cousin Lydia, Abigail realized that she hadn't missed how opinionated the young woman could be. However, she did raise a good point. Mr. Stanton would need clothing. "We will give him two pairs of pants, two shirts, undergarments and nothing more. Do you understand me, Aunt Margaret? Lydia?"

  Satisfied when both women nodded to her, she set down her tea cup and saucer, gathered her wits about her, and prepared to go back to town where she hoped to get some real work accomplished. There was the filing and posting of the Wanted posters and she had to get a fresh change of linens on the cot in the jail cell before Mr. Stanton returned for the evening.

  Her aunt's and cousin's conversation flowed around her while she made a mental list of everything she wanted to get done before sundown. They discussed dinner menus and the latest clothing styles, but it wasn't until she heard Cole Stanton's name that she swung her attention back to them.

  "What's this about Mr. Stanton?"

  "I think he's rather handsome and I don't think he's capable of committing the crime that you've arrested him for."

  Her mouth dropped open at Lydia's comment. It couldn't be helped, she was shocked by her declaration. "Lydia, you hardly know the man," Abigail quickly reminded her. "And furthermore, I had no choice but to arrest him. He fit the description on the Wanted poster perfectly."

  "Perhaps it's a case of mistaken identity," Aunt Margaret suggested.

  She turned that thought over in her mind. It was a possibility she hadn't considered. The fact remained that Cole Stanton fit the description and there was no arguing around the issue.

  "Did you even think to ask him if he was innocent?"

  She shook her head in response to Lydia's question. Even if, ever so briefly, the thought had occurred to her, the fact remained that it wasn't her job to decide such a thing.

  Raising her eyebrows, Aunt Margaret asked, "Well, Abigail, do you think he committed the robbery?"

  Abigail didn't want to think about the question, or her answer, right now. "I have to get back to work." Rising from the sofa, she straightened her skirt, nervously brushing cookie crumbs from the sturdy cotton fabric.

  "Thank you for the tea, Aunt Margaret." Looking to her cousin, she smiled and said, "Enjoy the rest of your morning, Lydia."

  "You too," Lydia chirped, a bit too cheerfully.

  Even though the sun was shining, Abigail didn't feel there was much joy left in her day. Walking from the house, Abigail found her thoughts churning like a whirlpool. The question posed by her aunt was troubling. It disturbed her to consider she might have an innocent man in jail; as much as she was loathe to admit it, the possibility existed.

  Shaking the uncertainties from her mind, she strolled past the site where the new school was going to be built. Long wooden surveyor stakes stuck into the earth marked the perimeter of the future building.

  Nearing Judson's lumber yard she could smell the scent of fresh cut wood. Alexander Judson was a fine man who'd been a widower for going on three years now. With a young son and daughter to support, the extra help would mean he could take on more work and not have to pay for it.

  "Hey, you little scamps! Come back here with my hat!"

  Though she didn't see who was yelling, Abigail managed to round the corner of the lumber mill just in time to see two boys running at full speed across the street. She knew just how to head them off. Running across the street, she quickly skirted around the mercantile and cut the boys off at the pass, so to speak.

  "James Macintyre and Matthew Duncan, haven't you boys been in enough trouble lately?" she scolded.

  "Aw, come on, Sheriff. Let us go. We didn't do nuttin' wrong."

  She held a squirming James firmly by the scruff of his neck. "Yes, you did. Now where did you get that hat from?"

  "We found it on the ground," Matthew chimed in answer.

  While she held onto James, Matthew was busy fidgeting around in front of her. Scuffing his feet around the dirt and screwing up his face, trying to look either mean or innocent, Abigail couldn't tell which.

  "Yeah! Finders keepers," James said with a gleeful smile.

  "That's right, we found it so now it's ours." Matthew stabbed his finger in her direction, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hand.

  Looking down at the ladies hat, that in a few more minutes would surely have been ruined beyond repair, she began to develop a punishment for the boys; hopefully, one that they soon wouldn't forget.

  "So, you think the hat should belong to you, James?"

  He nodded fiercely.

  She smiled ever so sweetly at the two urchins. They had no idea what was coming and were probably thinking that she was going to let them go. Well, they would be wrong.

  She continued smiling and said, "Let's see how it looks on you."

  "You want me to put it on my head?"

  "I sure do. And then we can see how it looks on Matthew."

  "I can't do that, Sheriff. What if somebody sees me?"

  "You should have thought of that before you stole it from the lady." Releasing her hold on him, she placed her hands on her hips, ordering, "Put the hat on."

  His little Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. She felt sorry for the little scamps, but it was their doing that had gotten them in this mess in the first place.

  Slowly he placed on his head the floppy hat with the bright pink dried flowers adorning the brim.

  "Now turn around and show Matthew how it looks."

  James did as he was told while his friend howled with laughter.

  "I wouldn't be so happy if I were you. You're next." Lifting the hat from James' crop of blond hair, she gave the bonnet to Matthew. "Your turn."

  He shook his head. "I'm not putting that ugly thing on."

  "Come along then." Taking hold of his skinny arm, she started to lead him around the front of the building.

  "Where are you taking me?" His bottom lip quivered.

  "To jail," she answered sternly. "If you don't want to wear that hat and show James how you look in it, then you can sit in my jail cell for the rest of the day."

  "Put the hat on Matt. It's just me and her that's going to see you," his friend cajoled.

  "I ain't wearing no lady's hat!"

  "Your pa is going to be mighty mad at you when he has to come get you out of jail."

  She had to hand it to James, he was trying his darndest to keep his pal out of trouble. Matthew's being stubborn made her wonder just how long he planned on holding out.

  Abigail helped his decision along, saying, "You can run along home now, James. Matthew will be spending the rest of the day in jail."

  The boy dug his heels into the ground. "I've changed my mind, Sheriff Abigail. Give me the stupid hat."

  Obliging him, she handed him the ruined bonnet and watched, barely containing her amusement as he paraded around in front of his friend. A
fter a few torturous minutes she took the hat from him.

  "Boys, you run along now and stay out of trouble. The next time I catch you up to no good I'm going to speak with your parents."

  The two were around the building before she could finish her sentence. Still carrying the hat, Abi gail went in search of its owner. It didn't take her long to figure out who it belonged to.

  Wanda McCurdy and her pile of dyed red hair sidled up so close to Mr. Stanton that Abigail couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

  "Cole, those two rascals stole my hat. They snatched it right out from my hand." Miss McCurdy was busy batting her long lashes at Cole and didn't seem to notice Abigail, who was now standing a mere two feet away from them.

  Abigail cleared her throat and the woman turned to look down her nose at her. She noticed right away that Miss McCurdy had added a few accessories to her wardrobe. Pretty earrings dangled from her ear lobes, and upon closer inspection of the hat, Abigail decided that it wasn't your run of the mill simple dime store version. The ribbon was a fine satin and the label inside the brim indicated the bonnet came from a fine haberdashery in Albany.

  She couldn't help thinking how interesting it was the way the clothes didn't seem to fit the woman.

  "Oh, Sheriff, I see you've found my hat." Taking the hat from her without so much as a thank you, she continued on, "I hope those two boys are being punished."

  She'd barely heard what Miss McCurdy was saying. Cole was standing there with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and a thin sheen of perspiration covering his forehead. He looked as if he'd been working hard. He also looked mighty handsome.

  "Sheriff? Did you punish those boys?" Miss McCurdy persisted.

  "I sent them both home with a warning," Abigail answered.

  "Good," Miss McCurdy sniffed. Turning her round eyes towards Cole, she said, "I've brought you a picnic lunch. You must be famished after all these long hours of work." Reaching out, she ran a hand over his brow. "Look at you just dripping with sweat."