“Well, hellooo dear!” an unfamiliar voice called back from the kitchen. Amanda froze. For a moment she wasn’t sure she was in the right house and had to glance around her to place herself properly. No…same rag rug on the floor by the door, her winter project the year she was ten, knotted and bumpy. The stack of books leaning on the table by the door, forgotten there by her studious sister Linda, and collecting dust since she’d left on her honeymoon. The bonnet with the scarlet ribbon hanging on the peg next to the door, that belonged to Sarah, which she wore solely to draw the eye of the young soldiers that had taken over their town of late.
Yes, it was most definitely her house. She walked slowly to the door, cautious about the kind of intruder that would welcome her into her own home. She found a rather roundish elderly woman fussing busily over several aromatic pots and pans. She had her grey hair in a tight bun and a floral apron tied to her waist. Mrs. Willette perpetually wore floral aprons cinched around her waist, the only time Amanda recalled seeing her without it was at services on Sundays. It was rumored that she kept one in her purse on those occasions, just in case.
“Mrs. Willette? What are you doing here?” Amanda looked around quickly as though to ascertain some clue as to why the woman was actually there. To her relief, Rachel was sitting on a chair with her chin in one hand watching the older woman with the carefulness of a wild thing unsure whether the new intruder in its environment was a trap or not.
“Your father, bless his heart, asked me to come and do some cooking for you girls, now that Linda’s gone.” The woman pursed her lips as she tasted the gravy. “Needs more pepper.” She shook her head and dug in the cupboard for the spice in question. She paused, the box resting against her cheek as she sighed a little wistfully, turning to look at Amanda with a certain mistiness to her eyes that Amanda knew from long practice predicted tears, much as a red sky at dawn would predict rain. “Why, I remember when your sainted mother passed, poor dear, how the three of you were such a handful and poor Sarah barely out of diapers…”
“She was nine…”
“And the two of you, you and Linda, putting on a brave show for her even though you were both such infants yet.”
“She was Eleven. I was near grown. Thirteen…”
Rachel put a hand over her mouth to hide a grin.
“Ach!” Mrs. Willette was sighing… or perhaps it was closer to keening “You were always such brave little things…” Her entire body began to shake, and she clutched at her apron and wadded it in frantic hands.
Rachel said something under her breath that sounded like “Here we go again,” and with a sigh crossed the kitchen to comfort the woman, patting her awkwardly on one shoulder. Amanda slowly backed away.
Sarah was coming through the front door as Amanda let the kitchen door swing shut behind her. Amanda grabbed her arm and steered her straight back out on the porch where they wouldn’t be heard.
“Amanda! What in the world are you doing?” Her face was red under the long plume on her blue bonnet. Her second choice for flirting with soldiers.
“Did you know that father hired Mrs. Willette?”
“No! Not Crying Clara? Whatever for?”
“SHHHH!” Amanda looked over her shoulder. “I think she’s our new cook.”
“Cook?” Sarah blinked. “He hired a cook?”
“Yes, he did.” Rachel said with no small amount of heat. She stood in the doorway behind them. “And a good thing too. Do you know I had to take a bath last night? An actual bath? I had corn down my dress!”
The sisters looked at each other and Amanda shrugged. After a moment, Sarah did too. And thus, by long-standing tradition, apologies were tendered and accepted on both parts.
“Wait.” Amanda blinked and turned to the girl. “We didn’t even make corn.”
“I KNOW!” Rachel whined and stamped her foot.
The sisters turned to look at each other and as one turned to the young girl. They shrugged, and Rachel shook her head. “it’s ok. But next week I get to skip the bath.”
“Hopefully by then, that won’t be our decision,” Sarah reminded her. “Your father and our sister will be coming home soon, and we can ship you off to them!”
Rachel brightened. “Why, have you heard?”
Amanda’s heart went out to the girl. “Not yet, sweetheart. But honeymoons don’t last forever. Sarah’s just teasing you.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose at the girl who stuck out her tongue. Sarah replied by doing the same and Amanda joined in so as not to feel left out.
“Lessst ssstsay liek thhhissss.” Sarah said hissing through her tongue.
“Ssssssure!” Rachel beamed and looked from one to the other. The front gate opened, and all three of them turned to see the sheriff striding up the walk. His eyebrows shot up under his hat as he took in his daughters and granddaughter facing him with tongues extended.
“Sorry, father,” Sarah said, covering her mouth. Amanda’s tongue shot back into her mouth like a roll-up window shade. She looked at Rachel who was still standing in place, eyes wide and tongue still extended.
She reached over and flicked the tip of the girl’s tongue. Rachel pulled it back instantly.
Sheriff Addams looked at the three of them and shook his head. “I see you’ve met the new cook?”
Chapter 4
“I will NOT!” Amanda stormed into the parlor. Pounding down the stairs, Sarah came in her wake, for once not acting the delicate lady, but more like the rough child she’d been growing up.
“But… you must! This isn’t a barn! You’re actually going to be around people. Real people, not horse people!”
Amanda turned on her, eyes blazing, arms outstretched to indicate her attire. “These are my clothes, and this is what I wear! This is what I’ve been wearing for years now. Even mama said—”
“Mama isn’t here. And even she would say you smell like a horse!”
“Yeah, ain’t that nice?” Amanda shot her sister a saucy grin, knowing she was goading her, as she brushed past her into the kitchen.
“What is all this?” The Sherriff called from the table as she came through the door. “Sit down and eat! Before it gets cold!”
Amanda took a seat next to Rachel, Sarah sat stiffly on the other side, very pointedly not looking at Amanda at all.
“We’ve already said grace,” he informed them, with a dark look for both his daughters. “Next time you might want to be here on time, so as not to hold up the Almighty. As it is, you best start eating before it gets cold.”
“Don’t you want to know what that was all about?” Sarah huffed indignantly, arms crossed, ignoring the plate set before her.
“No.” He shook his head and dug into his eggs with the intensity of a man who intended to get a good breakfast despite the nonsense his family was throwing his way. “I surely do not.”
“She is a working woman! She’s going into an office. To an actual job.”
“Please, tell me…” he said as he poured more syrup, as though drowning his buckwheat cakes would somehow likewise drown out the complaints.
“She can’t go to work dressed like that!”
Amanda spoke around a mouthful of bacon. “I told you, I am wearing my own clothes! I fail to see what’s wrong with wearing my own clothes.”
“In a law office?”
“Law office?” The sheriff looked up. “What’s this? I thought old Jeb down at the barn was giving you some work to do for boarding that horse of yours.”
She’d meant to tell him. It just somehow…hadn’t come up. “I was. I mean I am. But not today. I just…” Amanda sent a quelling look at her sister, “I just… I figured, you know…I…”
“That new lawyer in town,” Sarah broke in, her voice triumphant now that she had everyone’s undivided attention. “That one that interrupted the reception? Him. She’s working for him. Starting today”
Her father’s eyes went to Amanda, puzzled, and maybe even a shade hurt. “Whatever for?”
She should have told him. Had she expected he’d say no? He’d never denied her anything in the past. She set down her fork and stared at her plate. “In exchange…”
“For what?” his voice was sharp. Suspicious. This was the Sheriff coming to the fore.
“Riding his horse.”
“Oh.” her father nodded and, retrieving his fork, dug back into those cakes “Now I understand,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Don’t go worrying me like that.”
“But… she can’t go like that!” Sarah protested.
“Amanda,” he said, glancing up from his breakfast to look her up and down. “What were you wearing when you got the job?”
“These pants and the grey shirt,” she said holding out the plaid shirt from her for his inspection.
“Are those clothes clean?”
“Yes, sir. ‘cept the pants, I wore them yesterday, but they still got a good day in ‘em.”
He shrugged and turned to Sarah. “Well, that pretty much settles it then. If it’s good enough for her boss, and it’s good enough for her.”
“But… but Father, it’s… scandalous!”
He took a deep drink of his coffee. He made a grimace and looked into the cup. “It’s gone cold.” He set down the cup and looked at his daughters. “This nonsense has cost me a hot cup of coffee.” He said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “and that is all I am prepared to pay for this topic. Sarah, leave be. Amanda, go change your britches, wear a clean pair for your first day and you…” He pointed to Rachel as he stood. He paused to think a bit. “Well… you just keep being ten. Go catch frogs or something today. Be a child.”
“Yes, sir!” Rachel giggled.
Amanda headed upstairs, leaving Sarah to huff and stare daggers at her meal.
Amanda caught her father as he headed out the door. “Daddy? It’s ok? I mean that I took this job? It’s just some light filing and organizing and such… nothing too much.”
He forestalled her tirade with a raised hand. “Yes, it’s all right. This Richman seemed a good man that day when I met him. That’s saying something, as… well, it’s not making my job all that easier.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… nothing really. Our area here is growing, and maybe it’s growing up a little and so are my daughters…”
“Daddy, I just want to ride the horse.”
Her father looked at her for a long moment with a quiet smile. For that moment, she saw him as he must have been when he was young, whiskey-smooth their mother used to say about him when he wasn’t around to hear it. “Whiskey-smooth and a walk like a tomcat.”
“All right, Amanda,” He said softly, and there was a tender light in his eyes. “Alright. You go ride that horse.” He winked at her and turned to leave the house. She heard him clatter down the front porch and give a greeting to someone passing by as he opened the gate out onto the street.
Amanda ran to change and then realized she was going to be late on her first day.
She arrived at the office out of breath, cheeks flushed and covered in a light sweat from running.
“Miss Addams.” Mr. Richman called when he saw her looming in the doorway. “Good morning.”
“Good… good morning.” She said, blinking, and looking around. The old bank had been remodeled somewhat. The cage where the cashier had sat was gone. In its place was a wall with two doors, each leading to what she guessed would be an office. The lobby held a settee and a pair of chairs with a table between them over on one side. She guessed that’s where the clients would wait. On the other side was a desk, piled high with books and papers. Empty bookshelves stood waiting for the boxes in front of them to be unpacked. The door to what had been the bank president’s office stood open, still opulent with a rich carpet and what looked like heavy mahogany furniture through the door.
All in all, while it was a changed building, it was not altogether unpleasant.
What was disconcerting was the fact that there were three other men there, strangers in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. For some reason, she’d been thinking she was going to be left alone with Mr. Richman. She found she was somewhat relieved that was not to be the case. Less…nerve-wracking. Though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why it made her nervous to be alone with the lawyer.
“Miss Addams is going to be helping us set up, gentlemen.” Mr. Richman called from his office, coming out wiping his hands on a towel, his sleeves rolled up, showing off muscular forearms. A smear of dirt graced one cheek. “Please welcome her. This is Harold Summit” he said, introducing an older man with a great drooping mustache who looked as though he hadn’t smiled in a long time. “And this is Irving Wallace,” a younger man, about Mr. Richman’s age, but thin and pale with thick glasses blinked at her, “and finally, Mr. Joseph Walker.” This last was a young man, not old enough for the legal profession. He lunged forward with his hand raised and tripped on the edge of the desk, sending a cascade of books to the floor.
“Sorry. Sorry…” he seemed to suck up into himself and tried to vanish into the woodwork.
Mr. Richman waved off the apologies, returning his attention to Amanda who blushed under the intensity of the stare. “You’ll find we’re in quite a bit of disarray at the moment, but I trust we’ll have things well in hand shortly.”
“Well, we certainly have more than enough for you to do around here…” Mr. Wallace said, still blinking, looking crossly at the piles of boxes stacked near the bookshelves which seemed to be his domain. Several volumes already graced the topmost shelves. “That is, if you can read.” He blinked at her. Amanda was becoming mesmerized by his eyes. If an owl could take a man’s body, it would look like this.
Amanda shrugged. “My sister is the school teacher for the entire county.”
“Then perhaps we should have hired her?” Mr. Summit said slowly, his great mustache hanging morosely as he spoke, moving with the speed of a sleepy sloth to examine a box in the pile with measured scrutiny, as though the secrets of the universe were inscribed on the label.
“I can read.” Amanda shot back. “I read quite well, thank you.”
“Fine.” He said and gestured toward the large sheaf of papers cascading out of a box set on the desk. “On the top of each page, there is a case name and number. Someone…” he looked around her to the young man who blushed furiously, “didn’t secure the files in the box so much as he dumped the files into the box. They have to be resorted, first by name and then by case number. Think you can do that?”
“Of course.” Amanda didn’t know what the old man’s problem with her was, but to insinuate that she wasn’t able to do such a menial job, and then to take an air like that when they’d only just met…
He picked up the box to hand it to her, still giving her such a dubious look that she wound up snatching it from him and looked for a likely place to work given the desk was all but buried.
“Joseph, lend our Miss Addams a hand, will you?” Mr. Richman called from across the room.
“Yes, sure, of course.” He reached to take the box from her, and she pulled away. “I got this one, how about you get the other?”
“How did you know that there were others, Miss Addams?” Mr. Richman asked, eyeing her curiously.
“Cause there ain’t… there aren’t enough papers in here to fill the Territorial Criminal Records for the last ten years like it says here,” she nodded to the files in the box. “and it’s a safe bet to say that paperwork improperly stored once will happen again in the same move.” She smiled at him. To her relief, he smiled back. He had a nice smile, charming, lots of white teeth.
Not that she was noticing.
Mr. Richman laughed. “Joseph, grab the other two boxes and show Miss Addams where she can set up. I suggest you clear off the table in the file room in back, since that’s where those will be going anyway.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that he turned to go, moving easily with long strides back into what she as
sumed was his office.
Amanda had been horse crazed for as long as she could remember. From the day she got off that train, she’d been watching horses walk and trot and move. On this day, it wasn’t a horse, but a man, Mr. Richman, who caught her eye.
“Miss Addams?” the boy grunted, straining under two heavy boxes. “Please?”
“Good conformation.” She said and whistled without thinking.
“Please?”
She turned and saw the boy about dying under the strain of carrying the two boxes. She shook her head and set her own box down, taking the two from him. “Why don’t you take the other,” she said with a smile. “Where to?”
Joseph stared at her.
Now what’s got into him? It’s not like they’re all that heavy.
Even so, the kid was noticeably rattled. “F-f-f-f-follow me.”
She shrugged and trailed after him, aware that behind them, Irving Wallace watched them leave, eyelids blinking noticeably behind the thick glasses - censure in his gaze.
Chapter 5
Amanda hadn’t stood in one place this long in years. She was used to running, riding, and even learned how to rope cattle, though she never told anyone that. She knew that her father would only indulge her just so far and the risk of roping a bull from horseback was not one to be taken lightly. It was better he didn’t know.
But the time seemed to pass quickly. She’d emptied one box, the young boy was fervently helping her, trying to make amends for creating the fiasco in the first place. She wondered what it would be like for him, traveling to a distant, semi-wild land alone, only to find out you’d completely failed in the simplest of assignments.
Her heart went out to him for the first couple of hours, though that was strained just before lunch when he brushed a stack of papers on the edge of the table that fell and fluttered across the floor. To enhance the boys’ shame, two of the pages escaped entirely and fluttered out into the main room attracting the attention of the dour Mr. Summit.
At First Sight (The Sheriff's Daughters Book 2) Page 3