Was she thinking of asking him outright to hire her grandfather? Lacy called herself a fool, but that didn't banish the idea from her mind. She loved her grandpa and it seemed he grew more melancholy each day. He had taken such pride in his job as sheriff, and as deputy to Sheriff Murddock before that.
And while there were lots of things to do around the house, like taking care of the chickens, the hogs, and making certain the buildings were in good shape, she suspected her grandpa still felt useless.
Adam's arrival had made matters worse, so it was only right that he should help rectify the matter.
With the decision made, Lacy felt a small measure of relief. Yet the thought of asking Adam for a favor—any favor—made her knees tremble and her throat dry.
She wouldn't put it past the rascal to want something in return.
Something Lacy couldn't give.
Chapter Five
Adam tapped his foot beneath the table while the mayor of Shadow City, Jamis Goldbrick, detailed his life story. The man was a few years younger than Rusty Palmer, as near as Adam could guess. It was the only thing the two older men had in common, but it interested him. Anyone old enough to remember Colt Murddock could be important.
But damn, the old man was windy.
"Havin’ the only lumber mill around these parts made me rich, and I ain't ashamed to say so. The railroad comin’ through was a stroke of luck."
The mayor didn't say how his managed to remain the only lumber mill in a state rich in forestry, but Adam suspected he knew. Jamis Goldbrick kept the competition away, probably by any means he could think of—lawful or otherwise. During the long, lonesome journey on horseback from Wyoming, Adam had traveled through miles and miles of prime timber, most of which he encountered after crossing into Missouri. Plenty for everyone, but he didn't think Jamis Goldbrick was willing to share.
But Adam didn't really give a damn about Goldbrick's personal history, or, for that matter, the weak fools who allowed Goldbrick to stop them from adding to the competition.
Adam's wandering gaze traveled around the large dining room, filled with twelve or so tables decorated with red and white checkered cloths. Absently, he nodded to Dr. Martin, seated about four tables over, near the window. With him was a thin, elderly gentlemen wearing a dark gray suit. Adam didn't recognize him, but made a mental note to find out who he was. He looked older than his grandfather.
The mayor rambled on. So far, the self-centered ass had not mentioned anything of great interest, and hadn't paused long enough for Adam to direct the conversation into more lucrative areas—like Sheriff Murddock, or Rusty Palmer.
Lacy Ross.
Which reminded him. He wondered how she'd reacted to Ben working for Matt Johnson this morning. Ben did such an excellent job on his saddle that Matt asked him to stay and help him in the stables for a while longer. Adam took a chance and agreed on Ben's behalf. He figured Lacy'd chew him good for making Ben late for his lessons. The thought made him smile with anticipation.
If he ever managed to leave this restaurant, Adam mused, he'd have to think of some excuse to go see her, to tell her his theory on Ben. But from the looks of it, they'd be here for supper, too.
Adam tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. They'd been waiting for their food for almost an hour. His stomach had begun to growl in earnest and he was sorely tempted to grab something from a nearby table. Those people had gotten their food promptly.
His restless gaze strayed to the mayor's hands and his collection of rings. A hefty-looking gold nugget, a ruby surrounded by diamonds, more gold rings on the other hand. The man displayed his wealth almost to the point of vulgarity. Adam felt his lips curling in disgust and stopped the action. He couldn't afford to make an enemy of the mayor this early.
Adam wasn't impressed and he'd spent the last thirty minutes trying to figure out what his mother had found to like about the middle-aged, greedy land-hogger. Whatever it was, it continued to elude him.
But she had liked him, and so had his grandfather, if his memory served him right. Jamis Goldbrick had been one of the first settlers of Shadow City, a man obviously respected. He had opened the Lumber Mill, thus ensuring a profitable business for himself and steady employment for many people.
Yet, there was something about him ... something Adam couldn't put his finger on. Shifty? Maybe. The mayor's eyes never stayed in one place long. It was one of the reasons he hadn't informed the mayor of his relationship to Colt Murddock. He didn't trust him to keep quiet.
Mercifully, the mayor finally halted his boring recitation and craned his neck around the crowded, noisy room, frowning. “I wonder if they've forgotten us, Sheriff Logan."
Adam swallowed a sarcastic retort. Well, at least they agreed on something. He had a feeling it was going to be just about the only thing. “I've been wondering that for the last thirty minutes, Mayor.” He didn't much care that his drawling answer implied he hadn't been listening to the conversation.
The mayor didn't appear to catch the slight. He tossed his handsome gray head in the direction of a tall woman chatting with the people at a table nearby, clearing his throat loudly to get her attention. “Ellen—where's our food?"
Adam watched the woman turn and dart a nervous glance at him before looking at the mayor. “There's been a little problem ... with ... in the kitchen. I'm sorry, she ... it won't be long now."
Before Ellen could complete the sentence, a harried young woman barreled through the crowd in their direction, holding two heavy plates aloft. Without ceremony, she nudged past Ellen and plopped the steaming food down, then disappeared into the kitchen again.
Ellen appeared even more flustered. “See, there it is. You boys enjoy your meal, you hear? And take your time."
Jamis Goldbrick chuckled, digging into the plate of dumplings. “Well, Sheriff Logan. Do as she says. I think you'll find it was worth the wait."
But Adam wasn't listening. Take their time? He didn't like the sound of that. Hell, they'd already been here half the day! He caught Ellen by the elbow before she could step away. Forcing a polite smile, he asked, “You haven't forgotten about the pie, have you?"
Ellen looked shocked, as if he'd suggested something lewd. She pulled from his grasp and shot a nervous glance at the kitchen door before facing him again. “No, Sheriff. Of course I haven't forgotten the pie. Blackberry, wasn't it?"
Feeling slightly ridiculous for making such a big deal of something so trivial, Adam widened his smile. “My apologies, Ma'am. I should never have doubted your efficiency."
The woman seemed to melt beneath the substantial force of his roguish smile. “That's all right, Sheriff Logan. I know what it's like to get a hankerin’ for something, just to have it snatched from beneath your nose."
She was gone before Adam could recover from her startling words. He stared after her for a moment, wondering how she knew about Ben and the pie. Finally, when no answer came to him, he shook his head and picked up his fork to calm the embarrassing rumbling of his stomach.
By the time Ellen delivered the pie and replaced their empty plates with clean saucers, Adam and the mayor had long since finished their lunch. Never in his life had he wasted so much time eating.
He took an appreciative sniff of the steaming pie, his mouth watering in anticipation. With just the barest hesitation, he offered to share with the mayor.
Jamis Goldbrick patted his stomach and shook his head. “No, sir. I couldn't handle another bite. You go right ahead. You waited long enough for it."
Adam couldn't have agreed more. He cut a large slice and slid it onto his saucer, listening to the mayor with half an ear. Carefully, he wiped his fork with his napkin, not wanting anything to interfere with the taste of the pie.
"That Ellen cooks a mean meal, doesn't she?” The mayor's compliment was followed by a satisfied sigh. “Thought about marryin’ her when she lost her husband, but decided she was too old. Now, the widow Ross, she's more to my likin'."
Adam paused a
t the mention of Lacy, then sank the fork into the warm pie. It was none of his concern how many admirers the widow Ross had. First Dr. Martin, now the mayor. And that sharp little twist in his gut didn't have anything to do with jealousy, he told himself sternly.
"She can cook right fine, too. In fact, she baked that there pie you're eatin'. She bakes all the pies for Ellen, brings ‘em every day just like clockwork. She's a hard worker, and a fine lookin’ woman."
The mayor's informative rambling skimmed the surface of Adam's subconscious as he forked a huge bite of blackberry pie between his lips. He closed his eyes and bit down, fully expecting a wondrous flavor to burst in his mouth.
There wasn't time to reach for his napkin.
He sprayed the salt-laden pie onto the red and white checkered cloth and grabbed for his water. In fact, he couldn't get enough water. After draining his own glass, he slammed it down and reached for the mayor's without asking. He had never tasted anything so awful in his life!
When the mayor's glass was empty, Adam managed to croak, “Did you say Lacy Ross baked this pie?"
Maybe he hadn't heard the mayor right. But he knew better. Who else would do this to him? Now he knew why she hadn't slapped him when he had stolen that kiss; she'd been planning a different retaliation.
Concerned, the mayor leaned forward, eying Adam's thunderous expression. “Yeah, the widow Ross. Ellen don't like folks to know it, but she can't make ‘em herself. Somethin’ wrong with the pie?"
"I'm gonna kill her for this,” Adam said from between clenched teeth. He could just imagine her, standing over the pot and pouring in the salt, probably wearing a great big grin.
His furious gaze landed on the innocent-looking pie. When Lacy Ross least expected it, he'd get his revenge.
* * * *
That week, Lacy's daily routine kept her busy as usual. She had no time to stand around jawing about Adam Logan, which seemed to be the new favorite pastime for the rest of the townsfolk.
By Thursday, she was mighty tired of hearing about the new sheriff, from Ben, her grandpa, and anyone else she happened to run into. Adam Logan was a gentleman. Adam Logan was strong and honest. Adam Logan was handsome and unmarried. Adam Logan would make a fine addition to the growing population of Shadow City. He was trustworthy and fair.
"A wolf in sheep's clothing, more likely!"
Mumbling beneath her breath, Lacy lugged the butter churn out to the backyard to enjoy the slight breeze while she churned. The wash swayed gently on the ropes her grandfather had strung from tree to tree; the garden had been weeded during the cool, early hours of the morning and the chickens pecked happily at the crushed corn she'd strewn about. From the time she had risen at dawn to stoke the fire in the stove for coffee and breakfast, Takola had worked steadily at her side, seeming to anticipate Lacy's every need.
How had she managed her workload before Takola? Lacy smiled at the small Indian girl standing outside Big Red's pen. She was scratching the huge hog behind the ears as he made grunting noises of pure pleasure.
Settling herself on a stool, Lacy began to rotate the wooden stick in a circular motion. Shoulder muscles strained in protest, sore from a hard day of washing clothes. She paused often, staring down into the sweet, creamy mixture without really seeing it, her thoughts as jumbled as the cream.
It was Ben's turn to churn the butter this week, but when she couldn't find him, her grandfather informed her that Ben had promised to help Adam build a new set of shelves to replace the old ones in his office.
Ben had forgotten his chores.
"Fiddlesticks,” Lacy said aloud, blowing a damp curl out of her eyes. In the week Adam Logan had been in town, he'd managed to turn everyone's head, young and old alike, man, woman and child—with the exception of herself and Takola.
Lacy began the monotonous circular motion with the churn again, her mouth pursed in a grim line. She might as well admit it, at least to herself. She was a little jealous of Sheriff Logan. Her grandfather spent most of his time visiting Adam at the jail house, Ben with him more often than not. And her grandpa didn't appear the least bit resentful anymore. He seemed content to help her with the daily chores and spend his idle time at the jailhouse talking about Lord knew what with the sheriff.
It was the same wherever she went.
The regular Tuesday night quilting bee had turned into a gossiping session about the new sheriff, instead of their usual exchange of recipes, dress patterns, talk of children, and what Reverend John preached on Sunday.
Why, nobody even mentioned the upcoming festivities in September. Every year, the townspeople planned a grand gathering to celebrate Shadow City's official birth. The celebration had grown with the town until it resembled a fair of sorts. People came from miles around to join the festivities, bringing prize cattle, crafts, and food to enter in judging contests or sell from small, hastily constructed booths set up in the park. This year would be extra special, since it marked Shadow City's twentieth year.
Lacy remembered her exasperation by the end of the bee, wondering how many of the single young ladies would make fools of themselves like she had. She wanted to warn them, but couldn't without becoming the subject of their gossip, so she remained silent. It hadn't been easy, especially when her close friend, Carrianna Simmons, blushingly announced to the entire room of girls that she was going to bake a peach cobbler for Sheriff Logan.
Carrianna's announcement, much to Lacy's disgust, prompted others to confide their plans for welcoming Adam ranging from a new shirt, to a set of new curtains for the office window.
They'd soon discover Adam Logan appreciated nothing. Not once had he mentioned to Ellen what he thought of the blackberry pie he'd wanted so desperately. Not one nice comment! Nor had he mentioned the meal she took him that fateful day, and he hadn't returned the plate.
Her grandpa eventually brought the dish home, without a word of thanks from Adam.
Then there was Ben. As far as Lacy knew, he hadn't stolen a single crumb of cake in at least a week. Either the townsfolk weren't telling, or he was getting even better at it than before. If Ben did manage to finally overcome his impulse to steal food, she was glad, she really was. But it pricked her pride to realize that what she hadn't been able to accomplish in several years, Adam Logan had accomplished in a single day.
Of course, Lacy sniffed, he'd scared the living daylights out of Ben. But Ben wasn't afraid of him now. He talked about the sheriff enough to set her teeth on edge.
She seemed to be the only one who knew Adam for the rascal he was, and that was the problem. Why was everyone else blind to his faults?
She couldn't decide, and since she managed to avoid him—or was he avoiding her?—she didn't have the opportunity to wonder if the problem was actually her.
That suited her just fine. Adam Logan had enough of the townsfolk falling all over themselves to please him. He didn't need her, and she didn't need him. Not by a long shot. He was too—too rough. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. Rough and ill-mannered. And dangerous.
As far as asking him to consider hiring her grandpa as his deputy, well, she would get around to bringing it up if and when she saw him. With a town this small, they were bound to run into each other eventually. But lately, the matter didn't seem quite so urgent, with her grandpa in such a confounded cheerful mood.
Steeped in her puzzling thoughts, Lacy jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. She swung around to find Takola standing beside her. “Oh, you startled me, Takola. What is it?” Lacy's eyes lit on the pile of small tin crocks Takola cradled in her arm. “Oh, is it ready?"
Dazed, she looked into the heavy churn. To her amazement, she saw that the butter was indeed ready to be spooned into the containers. After that, she would take them to the general store, where she would trade the butter for flour and sugar. With the money she made from selling her pies and doing laundry, she bought coffee, tea, and any other items she might need.
This month, she planned to buy Ben a pair of new
boots, and Takola could do with a dress or two with money she had saved. They never went without any of the necessities, and although Lacy wouldn't dream of mentioning it to her grandfather, they were getting along just fine without his sheriff's pay.
Thank goodness she had more important things to do than sit around thinking about Adam Logan.
* * * *
"Damn, I'm out of nails.” Adam turned the sack upside down and shook it. The new shelves were nearly completed; the ancient, warped shelves lay in a broken heap in the tiny, enclosed backyard of the jailhouse.
Adam twisted around, looking for Ben. He found him searching the floor for rusty nails. “Ben, will you run to the general store and get more nails? Those old ones are weak and keep bending when I hammer them.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of copper pennies. “And keep the change. Buy yourself some candy."
Ben took the pennies and carefully slid them into his left pocket. His right pocket held the money he'd made working for Matt Johnson. He'd already confided to Adam that he was saving it to buy Lacy something nice. Shyly, Ben asked, “Mind if I get Takola a licorice whip? She likes ‘em a lot."
"Go ahead, and if you have enough, bring me a peppermint stick.” Adam smiled faintly as Ben shot out the door.
Seated comfortably at the desk, Rusty chuckled, but his eyes studied Adam shrewdly. “You're as bad as Sheriff Murddock, with that sweet tooth of yours. He liked his sugar. In fact,” Rusty added softly, “He'd get down right ornery if he didn't get what he was cravin'. Just like you."
Slowly, Adam put down the hammer and braced his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at Rusty's seemingly innocent expression. “Is that a fact?” he drawled.
Rusty put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes as if preparing for a nap. He chewed slowly on a toothpick. After a moment, he opened one eye and looked at Adam. “That's a fact."
"How long have you known?” He should have guessed Rusty would notice the resemblance sooner or later. But he would never have guessed his sweet tooth would give him away.
Secrets In The Shadows Page 7