Amanda didn’t like arguing with the minister, but she couldn’t let such a statement go unchallenged. “Actually, she was wearing a split skirt, and I don’t believe those are mentioned in the—”
“I don’t care what you call it,” Mrs. Albright’s husband, Carl, said through clenched teeth. “It’s indecent for a woman to suggest she has…has…”
“I think the word you’re looking for is legs,” Amanda said.
The men’s mouths dropped.
Reverend Wellmaker cleared his throat, recovering first. “To make matters worse, my wife helped beat up a man of God.” He shuddered.
“Yes, that was most unfortunate,” Amanda agreed.
Mr. Mooney took charge again. “As the bank president, I insist that you disband your posse at once.”
Amanda fought for control. It was bad enough the mayor tried telling her what to do, but the bank president? “Gentlemen, if you object to your wives assisting me, you’ll have to take the matter up with them. Meanwhile, I have work to do. So if you would kindly leave…”
Mr. Mooney leaned over the desk. “You know what you are? You’re a…a…a home wrecker, that’s what!”
He swung his bulky body around, and he and the others stomped out of the office. The slammed door rattled the windows. Amanda threw up her hands. She’d been called a lot of things in her life, but home wrecker? That was a new one. No sooner had the last man left than Rennick’s laughter rolled into her office like a tumbleweed in the wind. It was a nice laugh. A warm laugh that drew her to the open door separating his cell from the office.
That’s when she got the surprise of her life. At last, he had put the razor to good use, and the difference was astonishing. Never would she have guessed that such a handsome square face was hidden behind that ragged beard and scruffy mustache.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked curtly to hide her quickening pulse.
“You being a home wrecker.”
“Not funny,” she said.
“Sure it is.”
He was always on the move, and today was no different. Holding on to the bars with both hands, he squatted up and down. She tried her best not to notice the muscles of his arms and chest rippling beneath his shirt.
He grinned at her as if reading her mind, and a warm feeling crept up her neck.
“I must say, there’s never a dull moment around here,” he said, bending his knees. “What’s that about your powder puff posse attacking a preacher?”
“They want to be called the Red Feather posse, and the preacher part was a mistake.” She sighed. “They mistook him for a horse thief.”
He straightened, and his mouth quirked with humor. “An easy mistake to make, I’m sure.” He squatted again. “Is it true what they said? Have you been arrested?”
Her cheeks flared. “I’m afraid so. But it was always for a good cause.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That’s good to hear. Nothin’ worse than going to jail for a bad cause.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He shrugged.
As usual, he made it extremely difficult to keep her emotions under control. Every sympathetic look, engaging smile, and encouraging word was feigned for the sole purpose of manipulating her. But even knowing the name of his game, she found herself liking him more each day. It was the oddest thing, and she was at a loss to explain it.
Cheeks flaming beneath his measured gaze, she lowered her lashes, and that’s when she noticed the loose brick at the bottom of his cell. It hadn’t been there when she scrubbed the floor. “You weren’t trying to escape, were you?”
“Be a little hard to do, since this cell is built tighter than a spinster’s corset.”
Refusing to let his choice of words distract her, she said, “Only a guilty man would try to escape.”
Hs straightened. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know. So save your energy.” Unlike many jails in the west, which were flimsy at best, this one was well-built. “No prisoner has managed to leave before his time, and I mean to keep it that way.”
His devastating grin almost took her breath away. Glowering at him, she turned to leave. If he thought he could charm her with his crooked smile…he was right, and she’d better watch her step.
“Always a first time,” he called after her.
Twenty-one
Mary-Louise had agreed to meet Amanda for lunch and was waiting for her at a corner table in the hotel dining room. They hugged before Amanda bent down to peer at the infant asleep in the wicker baby carriage.
Mary-Louise’s pale face and dark shadows indicated a lack of sleep. Her normally well-groomed red hair hung limply down her back, and her gingham dress was wrinkled.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asked. It couldn’t be easy taking care of a newborn while dealing with the aftermath of a fire.
Mary-Louise looked like she was battling tears. “Everyone has been so kind and generous. The hotel isn’t even charging us for staying here. And the church ladies donated all sorts of things for the baby.” She moistened her lips before adding, “John is hoping to sell our livestock so we can start rebuilding soon.”
It was the opening Amanda had hoped for. “That’s wonderful news. Do you have fire insurance?” It was unlikely, as most insurance companies refused to insure wooden structures, but she had to ask.
“Insurance? No.”
“What a pity, but thank God everything is working out. Is there anything else you need? Clothes?”
“We’re fine for now.”
Amanda moistened her lips. “I need to ask you a few questions about the fire for my report. I’m still not clear on how it started.”
Mary-Louise’s expression darkened. “I told you. A piece of burning paper fell out of the stove. Why do you keep hounding me?”
Surprised by her friend’s sharp tone, Amanda sat back in her chair. “I’m not hounding you. As sheriff, I’m required to investigate all fires and—”
“You keep harping on this. It’s like you think I started the fire on purpose.”
Amanda reached for Mary-Louise’s hand. “I’m sorry if that’s how I make you feel. I certainly don’t mean to—”
“I told you what happened.” Mary-Louise pulled her hand away. “I have nothing more to say.” She shot up from her chair. Without another word, she reached for the handle of the baby carriage and wheeled it away.
“Mary-Louise, please—”
Watching her friend storm out of the dining room, Amanda felt a sinking feeling. It seemed there was more to the fire than Mary-Louise was willing to admit. A lot more. The question was what?
* * *
That night, Rick paced the cell, waiting for the deputy sheriff to return. Gunfire had sent Hobson racing out of the office more than an hour ago. Like it or not, the kid was the only chance he had of saving his neck.
Despite his best efforts, he’d gotten nowhere with the lady sheriff. She still didn’t believe in his innocence.
Did Hobson? Hard to know. But that’s what he intended to find out. If there was a weak link in the Lady Sheriff Lockwood’s armor, it was her overenthusiastic deputy.
Rick sure in blazes couldn’t depend on his lawyer. What was his name? Birdseye, that’s it. Bird shit, more like it.
He seemed more interested in making a name for himself than proving Rick’s innocence. His advice? Plead guilty and throw himself on the mercy of the court. What kind of hogwash was that?
It was after eleven by the time Hobson arrived, this time, with two prisoners in tow. Rick waited for him to shove the men into the cell next to his. No sooner did the one—a heavyset man with a sweeping mustache—hit the cot than he started sawing wood. The other one didn’t look that far behind.
“Got a minute?” Rick asked, motioning Hobson closer.
Hobson approach
ed his cell with obvious curiosity. “I guess so. Why?”
Though both men in the next cell were passed out cold, he lowered his voice. “I’m concerned about your boss.”
“You are?”
“Yes. She seems terribly overworked. I don’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have you.”
Hobson’s face turned a vivid shade of pink. “I do what I can.”
“You kind of remind me of…” He glanced at the dime novel sticking out of Hobson’s vest pocket for the name of the latest hero. “Buffalo Bill.”
“Oh, wow!”
Rick cleared his throat. “That’s why I’m asking for your help. I don’t want to put any more on the sheriff’s shoulders.”
Hobson looked interested. “What kind of help?”
“The night Cooper was murdered…I saw someone leave his room. Find that man, and you’ll find the killer. More than that, you’ll be a hero. Just like in a dime novel.”
“You think so?” Hobson looked as bright-eyed as a child on Christmas morn. “Wow.” He thought for a moment. “What did he look like?”
Rick described him the best he could. Unfortunately, the man had no distinguishing features, and the dimly lit hall allowed only a quick glance. “He was about your height. Light hair. Smoked a cigarette.”
Hobson hung his thumbs from his belt. “You just described half the men in this town.”
“He walked funny. Like one leg was longer than the other.”
Hobson frowned. “Lot of cowpunchers walk funny. Like I said, you just described half the men in this town.”
“That’s why I need your help. I’ll recognize him on sight.” At least he hoped he would.
“That’s kind of a problem. Being that you’re in jail and all.”
Rick rubbed his whiskered chin. “Yeah, that is a problem. What do you think Buffalo Bill would do?”
A slow grin spread across Hobson’s face. “I think he’d put on a really good show.”
Rick grinned back. “I think you’re right.” He then explained what he wanted Hobson to do.
“Oh, wow!”
Rick shot his hand through the bars. “We got a deal?”
Hobson grabbed Rick’s hand and practically shook his arm out of its socket. “Deal.”
* * *
Amanda spent very little time at home since taking over as sheriff. She was too busy stopping brawls, hauling drunks to jail, or tracking down Old Man Pendergrass. The former Confederate soldier had the disturbing habit of wandering about town in an advanced state of undress.
The last time he roamed the streets buck naked, three members of the Tuesday Afternoon Quilting Bee broke a city ordinance by fainting dead away and blocking the boardwalk.
Amanda was lucky if she got five or six hours of sleep on any given night. Mama, as always, was worried about her and made her promise to come home that Friday night for supper. Since she was already late, she left Scooter in charge of the daily task of chasing down Pendergrass. Her deputy took it in his usual philosophical way.
“Like Grandpappy always said, a thousand men can’t undress a naked man.” With that, he ran out the door, giving chase.
Smiling to herself, she gathered her belongings and, after locking the office, started for home.
Surprised to find her two sisters and brothers-in-law seated around the dining room table, she kissed her mother on the cheek and apologized profusely for being late.
“What’s the special occasion?” she asked, taking her place next to Meg. Papa looked up briefly from cutting the roast beef on his plate but remained silent.
Mama smiled, her soft-eyed gaze traveling the length of the table. Having her family together made her look as contented as a hen on a nest. “No special occasion. It’s been a while since we all sat down together, and I thought it time.”
Her mother didn’t fool Amanda one whit. She hadn’t spoken to Papa since putting on the sheriff’s badge. What would be the point? She knew where he stood, and they would only argue.
Mama’s answer to everything, even family friction, was to break bread together.
Good try, Mama. Unfortunately, it would take a lot more than Mama’s delicious roast beef and blueberry pie to smooth Papa’s feathers.
“Yes, it has been a while,” Meg was saying.
Meg’s husband, Grant, raised his glass to Amanda. “And it’s not every day that I get to dine with a lady sheriff.”
A tall, clean-shaven man, Grant was born and raised in Boston. Though he’d picked up a slight Texas drawl, he still called the parlor the pahlah. A lawyer by trade and graduate of Harvard, he met Meg when she was the plaintiff in a breach-of-promise lawsuit. Since he was the lawyer for the defense, it was a miracle they ever got together.
“Time goes so fast,” Meg rushed to say, with a slight shake of her head at Grant. “I can’t believe we’ll soon be celebrating our first wedding anniversary.”
Amanda placed her napkin on her lap and said nothing. Apparently, any discussion of her job had been deemed off-limits. Mama’s idea, no doubt, to keep peace in the family.
Across the table, Ralph reached for Josie’s hand. A pale-faced man with a concave chest, he wheezed with each breath. “And we’ll soon be going on our sixth.”
Josie seemed especially quiet, but it was the bags under her eyes that worried Amanda. Did she know Meg was expecting? Or was something else going on?
“Pass the salad, will you?” Meg asked.
Mama handed the salad across the table. “Speaking of which, has anyone seen my good salad bowl? I’ve searched high and low for it. You girls didn’t borrow it, did you?”
“Not I,” Josie said.
Meg helped herself to salad and passed the bowl to Amanda. “Nor me.”
“I’m sure it will turn up,” Papa said, relieving Amanda of having to confess that the salad bowl in question was still molding felt for a hat she had started to make before taking over as sheriff. Now, she didn’t know when or even if she would have time to finish it. Her dream of opening a hat shop seemed far away.
“Are you feeling all right, Meg?” Mama asked, seeming to have forgotten her salad bowl. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”
“I’m fine,” Meg said, making an effort to chew.
Grant rubbed his wife’s back. “I think we should tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Ralph asked, helping himself to another roll.
Meg bit her lower lip and cast a glance at Josie. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Mama’s face lit up. “Oh, Meg!” She clasped her hands to her chest. “That’s the best news ever!”
“Spectacular,” Papa agreed, holding his water glass aloft. “This calls for a real celebration.”
Josie looked no less delighted. “I’m so happy for you, Meg,” she said, then promptly burst into tears.
Alarmed, Meg dropped her fork. “Oh, Josie, I didn’t want to tell you… I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Josie dabbed her eyes with her husband’s handkerchief. “Sorry? What are you talking about? I’m your sister. Why wouldn’t you want to tell me?”
Meg inhaled and swiped a blond strand away from her face. “I just thought—”
Josie brushed away her concerns with a shake of her hand. “This is great news. I’m going to be an aunt.”
Amanda frowned. She was just as confused at the others. “Then why are you crying?”
“Oh, this—” Josie palmed away the last of the tears and struggled for control. “I’m just sorry that I w-won’t b-be around to see the b-baby grow up.”
A stunned silence followed, punctuated by Josie’s sobs.
Papa set his glass down. “What do you mean, you won’t be around? What nonsense is this?”
Josie turned to her husband. “You t-tell them.”
Before he had a chance,
all twenty-two clocks adorning the dining room walls struck the hour of seven p.m. Chimes, bongs, and cuckoos filled the air but did nothing to snap the waiting tension that stretched across the table.
Sensing bad news ahead, Amanda set her fork down and reached for her napkin.
Papa, as usual, pulled out his watch to check that it was accurate. Seemingly satisfied, he slipped the watch into his vest pocket without making any adjustments.
Josie was visibly upset, but Amanda was more concerned about her brother-in-law. Tonight, he looked especially pale and appeared to have lost weight. Even more worrisome, his lips were tinged blue.
Ralph tugged on the collar of his shirt and took a swallow of water. The moment the last of the clock chimes faded away, he began. “As you know, I have a lung problem.”
Fearing the worst, Amanda dug her fingers into her palms. She had grown so used to his heavy breathing that she’d hardly noticed it in recent months. Now that attention had been drawn to his condition, his breathing problems appeared to have gotten worse. A whole lot worse.
“I’m sorry to say my lungs aren’t getting any better.” He glanced at Josie, and she squeezed his hand.
Amanda held her breath. Surely, Ralph wasn’t going to…
As if to guess her thoughts, Ralph pulled his gaze away from Josie. “The doctor advised me to move to a climate with less humidity.”
Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Relief was immediately followed by dismay. “You’re leaving?”
Josie took a sip of water before answering. “Yes. We’re moving to Arizona Territory where the air is dry. The Texas humidity is only making his condition worse.”
Meg looked stricken, and Mama gasped. Papa said nothing. He just stood and left the room. His actions came as no surprise to Amanda. There was nothing he hated more than his daughters leaving home to make lives of their own. But to actually leave Two-Time—to altogether leave the state—in his mind, that was unthinkable.
A Match Made in Texas Page 14