When the mayor pivoted and caught sight of Adam, his expression turned downright ugly. He appeared to forget about Lacy altogether. “Yes, I've been looking for you. There's a matter I believe we need to discuss. We'll talk in your office."
Seemingly unperturbed, Adam handed Lacy the material, his eyes roving hungrily over her upturned face. When he winked at her, Lacy found herself returning the wink, surprised at her boldness. Adam did that to her, made her feel bold and reckless. She wondered if Takola felt her shaking, then decided she didn't care.
She had missed Adam. He looked tanned and rugged, and incredibly.... Lacy stifled a laugh over her wicked imagination, watching the two men as they made their exit from the dress shop.
Adam was about to have hell to pay for supporting—and helping—Lester Salvage. The thought sobered Lacy. She hoped Grandpa had warned Adam how ruthless Jamis Goodrich could be when he wanted something.
Or how deadly he could be when he didn't get it.
* * * *
Adam propped his feet onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, knowing his easy posture further infuriated the man pacing the floor in front of him. The mayor's face had turned a deep purple.
"You let Salvage start building again,” the mayor bellowed.
"Yes."
"You didn't come to me and ask, you just took it upon yourself."
Adam nodded. “That's right. Salvage bought the land. He can build whatever he wants."
The mayor stomped up to the desk and leaned over. “You realize that any new business has to be approved by the town council?"
"I believe it was approved months ago, Mayor Goodrich,” Adam stated coldly. “You were the only one who disagreed with the vote."
"I'm the mayor!” Goodrich shouted.
"And I'm the sheriff. The law's the law. That's what you pay me to do, uphold the law. The town doesn't mind Salvage settin’ up his business, so why should you?"
Mayor Goodrich trembled with fury. “You know damned well why I don't want him here."
Adam shook his head. “There's plenty of timber for two mills,” he pointed out. “With the railroad running through, you won't loose a nickel."
"I won't stand for it!"
Adam narrowed his eyes at the mayor, slowly dropping his feet. He leaned forward and with a distinct warning in his voice, said, “If you try to burn Salvage out again, I'll throw you in jail."
The mayor gasped, choked, then sputtered, “You can't throw me in jail, you—you young pup! I'm the mayor."
"So you've said. Several times already. Doesn't matter. You break the law, I'll throw you in jail just like I would anyone else."
"I'll fire you,” Goodrich threatened.
Adam smiled. “And I'll go to the town council with the story. They'll have to know how you burned Salvage out the last time he tried to build, of course."
"You don't have any proof. You can't say that; it would be slander."
"So sue me,” Adam shot back. “You fired Rusty, and if you fire me, don't you think the citizens of Shadow City will wonder? Especially after I tell them about the fire a few months back, and how some folks think you were behind it."
The mayor's face purpled to an alarming shade and Adam began to wonder if the old man would solve the problem by keeling over dead. Shiny drops of spittle gleamed in the corners of his mouth. His eyes bulged. “I hired you to avoid interference of this nature."
"I suspected as much when I heard the real reason you fired Deputy Palmer."
"That's another thing. How dare you go behind my back and hire that drunken son—” He clamped his mouth shut as Adam rose from his chair and took a menacing step in his direction. The mayor began to stutter. “N-now, just a minute—"
Softly, Adam said, “I suggest you leave Rusty out of this. It clearly stated in the letter of acceptance that I could hire a deputy of my own choosing. I've still got the letter, if you'd like to see it and refresh your memory."
"I'll make you regret this, Logan. I swear it."
Disgusted with the whole ordeal, Adam let the words slip, “I don't know how my grandfather stood you."
The air became still between them. Adam mentally kicked himself and his loose tongue. He hadn't wanted the mayor to have that juicy bit of information just yet, dammit, and here he was, blurting it out.
"So, you're Murddock's grandson,” the mayor guessed. A feral gleam appeared in his shifty eyes. “Following in his footsteps?"
Adam jerked. “Is that a threat?"
"I don't know what you mean,” the mayor cooed. A full smile stretched his fleshy lips from corner to corner. “You think you're pretty smart, sneaking into town, lying about who you are. What's this all about, Logan? Lookin’ for a ghost?” Cruelty twisted his lips as he added, “I assure you, there are none. Colt Murddock went straight to Hell."
Adam gripped the edge of his desk to keep from smashing his fists into the mayor's smiling face. “I'm not looking for a ghost; I'm looking for a murderer.” He regained some of his control when the color drained from the mayor's face. “I wonder,” he mused softly, “How much you had to gain from my grandfather's death?"
The mayor swallowed hard. For the first time, he spoke without anger. “You're being ridiculous, Logan. Everyone knows Murddock killed himself."
Adam's eyes burned into the mayor's. “Well, now. Not everyone. I don't think he killed himself at all. Neither does Rusty Palmer, who was his best friend. Seems like he oughta know, if anyone did."
"There was a note—"
"He could have been forced to write it."
"The rope—"
"Someone else could have put it around his neck."
The mayor began to recover, gathering his vices around him like a child with his toys. He didn't hesitate to use blackmail. “Looks like a standoff, Logan. You go to the town council blustering about me burning Salvage out, and I go with the story of who you are. They'll run you out of town after they tar and feather you."
Adam forced a laugh, knowing it was important that he bluff his way through. “Are you sure about that? Colt Murddock was a long time ago and memories fade. Hell, most of the people in Shadow City don't remember him at all, except for the stories they've heard. But you and your little bullying ways of keeping all this prime timber to yourself, now that's a guarantee.” He slapped his hands on the desk and the mayor jumped. Adam's smile was without humor. “If there's one thing I've discovered about this town it's that they don't like violence. Now, wouldn't you call settin’ fire to a building an act of violence?"
The mayor made a choking sound. His hands curled into fists and his face reddened again. “You'll regret this, Logan. I swear it.” He lurched around and headed for the door.
"Much obliged for the warning, Mayor,” Adam taunted to his retreating back. The door slammed with a bang and Adam slumped into his chair. Good grief, he'd had no idea what Rusty had been up against. He wondered if Colt had gone through the same dance with the mayor.
Adam settled his chin on his hands, a frown pulling hard at his brows. Should he add the mayor to his list of suspects, which would bring the total to two? He couldn't discount the expression on the mayor's face when he had mentioned he was looking for a murderer.
It had been guilt, plain and simple.
He had to talk to Lacy. He had a gut feeling about how much she knew, whether she was conscious of it or not. The reason he'd waited as long as he had was because he dreaded asking her, knowing she would think he had been leading up to the moment. As suspicious as she was, she'd be convinced every move he had made, the kissing and holding, had been a trick to lure her into softening towards him so he could question her about the day his grandfather died.
Adam buried his face in his hands and laughed at the irony of his situation. His laughter turned to a groan of frustration. Hell, he almost wished she was right, because the truth was, he was going to miss her, and Rusty, and Ben—even Takola. He hadn't realized how empty his life had been until the day he bought that
damned blackberry pie from the restaurant.
Chuckling, he wondered if Lacy had pondered that stain on the seat of his pants when she had laundered his clothes. After Brian and Ed had left, he'd taken his pants out back to the pump and scrubbed and scrubbed, then hung them on the fence, but when they had dried, there had still been a dark stain.
His chuckles turned into belly-rolling laughter as he imagined the look on her face.
Chapter Twelve
"I don't know, Adam,” Rusty said, shaking his head. He frowned at the hot sun overhead and accepted the tin cup of cool water from Adam. “The mayor's a snake—and a greedy son-of-a-bitch—but I don't know ‘bout murder."
Adam glanced through the open door, confirming that Ben was busy sweeping the jail cells. He'd motioned Rusty out back with the pretense of needing a drink so he could get his opinion on Jamis Goodrich. “You didn't see his face when I told him I was looking for a murderer.” He took the empty cup from Rusty and filled it from the pump again, downing the contents in one drink.
"Doesn't necessarily mean he's guilty. Maybe guilty of something—he's always guilty of something.” Rusty shook his head again. “But murder...."
"Money can change a person, cause them to do things they wouldn't ordinarily do,” Adam said quietly.
"You're right. You're right, at that.” This time Rusty sounded less doubtful. “Could be you're right about the other, too. If you are, you need to be looking over your shoulder, son. The mayor isn't gonna stand by and let someone accuse him of murder."
Adam wasn't worried. If something happened to him, folks would know Jamis Goodrich had something to do with it. Telling Rusty about his suspicions was his insurance. With a shrug, he said, “Let him try. He'll prove my point."
"Won't do you any good if you're dead!” Rusty nearly yelled. “And I'm not too sure the townsfolk would believe me over the mayor, Adam, if that's what you're countin’ on.” Angry now, he jerked the cup away from Adam and began pumping furiously. Water rushed up the pump and drowned the cup, soaking the sun-baked earth at their feet. “I didn't think you came here to get dead, you ornery cuss. If I'd known that, I wouldn't be helping you."
Adam brushed Rusty's worries aside with a careless shrug. “Nobody's going to kill me, you old fart. Now stop pumping that handle—you're flooding the yard."
Rusty quit, standing back with his hands on his hips, glaring at him.
Adam sighed. “I need to talk to Lacy, find out what she remembers. If she saw the mayor anywhere near that office the day she found Colt...."
"Then you'd better hurry,” Rusty growled at him. “She's ridin’ out to the old Henderson farm west of town to welcome the new family. Salvage bought it, and his wife and kids came in on the train yesterday. She's takin’ them some vittles."
"She goin’ alone?"
"Always does. Never know when folks might take a dislike to Takola, and Ben's busy here. Farm's about seven miles west, give you plenty of time to have that long talk you threatened to have with her."
Adam smiled. “I did, didn't I?"
Rusty forgot his anger. He grinned back. “You did. Might want to stop at the pond on the way back and rest a spell. Plenty of shade, won't be nobody around ‘cause it's too hot to fish."
"Much obliged,” Adam said. He peered through the open doorway and bellowed, “Ben! Run and saddle Sandy for me, would ya?” He started inside, but Rusty held him back with a firm grip on his shoulder. Surprised, Adam turned to the older man.
"You remember that old shotgun Lacy pulled on you the first day you were in town?” Rusty inquired with innocent, unblinking eyes.
Adam nodded. “How could I forget? Hard to believe that was only a month ago."
"Well ... that old shotgun still works, if you get my meaning, son."
Adam did, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing. But the serious expression on Rusty's face stilled his mirth. Gravely, he said, “I would never hurt Lacy. You should know that."
Rusty gave his shoulder a hard squeeze. “That's what I was hopin’ you'd say.” Apparently satisfied his warning had been taken, Rusty clapped him on the back. “Now, you sweet talk her first, you hear? Talk about anythin’ and everythin', and then lead up to Sheriff Murddock...."
Adam bent his head to listen. Rusty knew Lacy better than anyone, and Adam wasn't about to let a little thing like male pride stand in his way.
* * * *
Lacy tucked the large basket of eggs in the far corner of the wagon. The straw would keep them from breaking, and she had also prepared a barrel of coarse salt and unslacked lime so Mrs. Salvage could preserve the eggs. The mixture could keep the eggs for several years, if necessary.
Chickens squawked in a cage—five of her best laying hens—along with a rooster. Preserves of peach and blackberry, a smoked ham, a slab of cured bacon, a bolt of calico for making curtains, several crocks of butter, a round of cheese and five loaves of bread filled the wagon.
Lacy nodded in satisfaction. Some of the supplies had been donated by the other townsfolk, gathered by Carrianna, Susan, and Mary Ellen. And this morning as Lacy gathered the items together, Takola presented her with two cornhusk dolls to give to the little girls, and a rattle made from a dried gourd, painted and decorated with bright feathers and beads.
They had learned from Mr. Salvage that Mrs. Salvage was expecting a third child. Lacy was touched by Takola's thoughtfulness, and hopeful it was a sign she was beginning to realize not all white people were bad.
Tying her bonnet beneath her chin, Lacy climbed onto the wagon seat and flicked the reins. She needed to make good time or the butter would melt, despite the heavy layer of straw shielding it from the hot sun.
"Come on, Grasshopper, let's get goin’ so we can make it back before dark."
Before the mare could respond to her familiar urging, a horse and rider came trotting around the corner of the house. Startled by their unexpected appearance, Grasshopper jerked her head and whinnied a protest.
Lacy gaped at Adam and the huge buff-colored stallion he rode. It was several hands taller than her little mare and Lacy didn't blame Grasshopper for being nervous. “You scared Grasshopper,” she chided as Adam nudged the stallion alongside the wagon. Prudently, she scooted away from the blowing horse, but her eyes fixed on Adam's damp shirt and the shadow of hair beneath. Her mouth went dry.
Adam grinned and shoved his hat back on his head. “Grasshopper? What kind of name is that for a horse?"
Lacy felt an answering smile twitch her lips. It was a silly name, but there was a reason. “What else would you name a horse who eats grasshoppers?"
"What?” Adam laughed his disbelief. “That's a first for me."
A silence fell between them; an awkward, tense silence. Lacy wanted to stare and stare, drink her fill of him. Amusement danced in his blue eyes and he looked so strong and handsome astride the big blonde stallion. She sighed inwardly, feeling curiously sad. “Well ... I'd best get going. Butter's gonna melt under this hot sun."
Adam didn't move. “Rusty said you were going out to the Salvage place to welcome the family.” When she nodded, he said, “Thought I might ride along with you. Sandy needs exercise."
Lacy braced herself against the thrill of pleasure his words evoked. She'd like nothing more than for him to ride along, yet the strong part of her—the self-preservation part of her—knew the smart thing to do would be to run. She feared her heart was already in for an ache when he left Shadow City.
Spending time with him would only make things worse.
"I can't stop you, can I?"
"Do you want to?"
Heat sizzled, and it had nothing to do with the sun overhead. Both were remembering the last time she had asked him to stop, and both knew she hadn't wanted him to then.
She didn't now, either. Lacy tore her gaze away from his, from the promise of passion she saw there. With a feigned, careless shrug, she ignored his deep question. “It's a free country."
Adam chuckled knowing
ly as he dismounted and tied the stallion's reins to the back of the wagon. Lacy gave considerable thought to sending Grasshopper into a gallop, leaving Adam behind to eat her dust.
But she didn't. Instead, she slid over on the bench and handed him the reins, hoping he wouldn't take the action as a sign of passivity. She wasn't handing him control, just the reins, she assured herself.
The wagon lurched as Adam flicked the straps lightly onto Grasshopper's back. The mare moved docilely forward and soon they were on the road leading west out of town. The big stallion trotted behind them, snorting his displeasure. Thick forestry crowded both sides of the dirt road, shading them from the bright sun and a light, warm breeze ruffled the flaps of her bonnet, giving some relief from the heat.
Lacy tried to relax. It wasn't easy with Adam's hard, muscular thighs only inches from her own. The wagon bounced along, often throwing her perilously close to touching him. She wondered how he'd gotten his shirt wet, and why he didn't button those top buttons, for goodness sake.
Finally, she ventured, “You know the way?” She glanced at his profile, at the slight bumps on his nose she'd noticed the first time she had seen him. He had been a stranger then; now she felt as if she had known him forever.
Without looking at her, he asked, “Old Henderson farm?"
"Yes."
"I know the way. Rusty told me."
Silence fell again. Lacy fidgeted on the seat. He didn't seem inclined to talk, but she had a million questions burning in her mind. Besides, he owed her an explanation, had promised her one. Maybe he didn't care what she thought anymore. The possibility panicked her, though she knew she was being foolish.
Adam Logan would leave when his work was done. She needed to accept that fact, and not hope for something that wasn't going to happen.
With the depressing thought in mind, she asked, “Are you going back to your ranch in Wyoming when you're ... finished here?"
Adam jerked his head sideways to look at her, his eyes sharp with suspicion. “My ranch? What makes you think that ranch is mine?"
Secrets In The Shadows Page 17