Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set

by Julie Ortolon

  “A friend doesn’t leave an expensive parasol on the doorstep.”

  Adam shook his head. “Sir, I haven’t given Rebecca any gifts.”

  “Did you not leave that parasol on our doorstep for her?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Grayson nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. “Rebecca is too young to keep company with you, Adam.”

  In other words, stay away from my daughter. Adam got the message. Mr. Grayson was judging him unfairly, assuming the worst, and it made Adam want to yell at the top of his lungs so the whole world would know he was not a bad person. But he clamped his teeth against his anger, gave Rebecca’s judgmental father a curt nod, and walked away.

  Nicholas Archer was coming down the road, and shouted to him, but Adam sprinted across the apple orchard to escape the boy. He didn’t need two beatings today.

  The sheriff’s place was the next house up the road, and Adam was burning with anger when he banged on the door.

  The sheriff answered, thrust a fishing rod into Adam’s hand then lifted a wicker hamper off the floor. “Let’s go hook some bass.” He pulled the door closed behind him, and they headed across the back yard.

  Adam trudged alongside the sheriff as they crossed a field of shin-high grass and sprawling maple trees with lime-green leaves. Birch, pine, oak, and ash trees hugged the path that cut down into the gorge. Robins and swallows swooped overhead, twittering and singing. Small animals rustled beneath the ferns and sumac bushes, and the burbling sound of water grew louder as they descended into the gorge.

  “My boat is over here,” the sheriff said, pointing to a cluster of towering pine trees. He set the basket on the grass, ducked beneath the low branches, and disappeared from sight. “Put the rod by the basket and come give me a hand.”

  Adam laid the rod aside and ducked beneath the drooping limbs of the pine tree. He found the sheriff standing in a small, shadowy cathedral in the center of the trees. Sunlight shot down in beams from the towering tops of the trees to the thick cushion of pine needles beneath his feet. The scent of pine was heavy and fragrant, and Adam knew he’d never been in a more magical place. “This is… I don’t even know how to explain it,” he whispered.

  The sheriff grinned. “It keeps my boat hidden so it doesn’t tempt anyone to paddle themselves into a dangerous situation.”

  “I could live here.”

  The sheriff laughed, but Adam was serious. It felt safe here.

  They carried the boat twenty feet to the creek. Adam ran back for the basket and rod then gingerly stepped into the boat. The sheriff used the oars to push them away from the bank then worked the paddles with long, dragging strokes that propelled them north on Canadaway Creek.

  Gliding through the water in a boat was a feeling Adam had never experienced, and he wanted to go faster, to race across the water like the wind. Trees that were perfect for climbing lined the shale and earth banks. A white, hairy dog stood with his front paws in the water, long, pink tongue lapping noisily from the creek. From the boat, everything along the banks seemed to tower above him.

  The sheriff lifted his left oar and angled it toward shore. “There’s the greenhouse,” he said.

  Adam viewed it from the back, seeing the little stone addition tucked against the huge white plank building. Faith was hanging laundry in the side yard, but from Adam’s position on the water, she looked like she was on a stage.

  “Faith!” Adam shouted, waving his hand. He wanted her to see him in the boat. “Down here,” he said, rising up so she could see him. The boat rocked up on one side, and he gripped the edge, his heart thundering as he nearly fell overboard.

  The sheriff grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bench seat he’d been sitting on. “The first lesson is to never stand up in a boat.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  The sheriff laughed. “You would have been more sorry if you had fallen in that water. It’s cold.”

  “It’s July.”

  “The water’s not warm enough for me until August.” He nodded toward shore. “Your sister has spotted us.”

  She had, and Faith was smiling. Adam waved, feeling proud.

  When she curtsied to them, the sheriff laughed.

  Adam knew Faith liked the sheriff, and that she would probably marry him if he asked her, but he didn’t care about that today. He wanted to get his hands on the oars and row the boat. They followed the creek through Fredonia, hearing talking and shouting and carriages rattling along the rutted roads. A mile out of the village, water dragons and horseflies buzzed along the banks. Birds chirped, and a woodpecker hammered a tree high above his head.

  The sheriff grimaced and paused to rub his shoulder. “I could use a rest,” he said. “Think you could row for a bit?”

  “Yes, sir!” Adam’s heart leapt as the sheriff pushed the oars into his hands. His first uneven stroke caused the boat to swing sideways. Sweat prickled beneath his shirt, but after a few awkward strokes, he got the boat heading north.

  “Now, pull evenly with both oars,” the sheriff instructed.

  It sounded easy, but Adam struggled to plunge in both oars at the same time and at the same depth. His left oar skimmed the surface and flung water across the sheriff’s face and shirt. The right oar sank deep and spun the boat sideways again. Adam waited for the sheriff to cuff him in the head for soaking him, but the man just laughed and wiped his face.

  “I did the same thing to my dad the first time he let me row his boat.”

  “REAlly?”

  “REAlly,” the sheriff said, in a squawking imitation that made Adam laugh. Grinning, he said, “It takes some practice to get a good, even pull with both oars.”

  “I didn’t think it would be so hard,” Adam admitted, looking behind him occasionally so he wouldn’t paddle them into a bank.

  “You’re doing fine, son.”

  A strange warmth filled Adam’s chest. If the sheriff married Faith, he would be sort of like a father. Adam didn’t like the sheriff’s lectures, but it was nice having someone to show him how to frame in a room or row a boat.

  “We’re about to enter Lake Erie,” the sheriff said.

  Adam peered over his shoulder to see a vast blue-green lake of water. His stomach soared with excitement then dove in terror. The lake was huge.

  They didn’t go far from shore, but Adam rowed until sweat rolled down his back and his muscles burned. When the sheriff told him to stop, he almost sighed aloud.

  Their boat drifted and bobbed on small waves while they ate delicious slabs of ham and thick slices of bread that the sheriff’s mother had packed in the wicker hamper. They shared a quart of water then the sheriff baited the fishing hook with a fat night crawler. He cast the line three times to show Adam how to do it. But when Adam tried it, he failed miserably. The third time his distance was better, but he snagged the hook on the lake bottom and lost it.

  The sheriff didn’t seem to care at all. He just repaired the line and handed the rod back.

  Adam wouldn’t take it. “I’ll ruin it,” he said.

  “Adam, I’ve lost more hooks than I can count. That’s part of fishing. The first time I tried casting, I threw my father’s best fishing rod right into the lake. Sank like an anchor. I dove in after it, but the water was too deep to retrieve the rod. That’s one reason I fish close to shore.”

  “Is that true?”

  “I always tell the truth, Adam.”

  Of course he did. He was the sheriff. And he was a Grayson.

  Adam took the rod, but his mind was on Rebecca’s father when he cast the line. The hook and sinker shot over the water and landed with a soft blip six boat lengths away.

  “Nice cast,” the sheriff said, but Adam’s jaw was clenched. He didn’t know anything about a stupid parasol.

  “A fish is going to need a steam engine strapped to his tail to catch that hook you’re reeling in. Go slow and steady.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, sir.”

  Adam drew the rod up and cast the line again.

  “Something eating at you today?”

  “No, sir.” He reeled slowly, but his heart hammered. The sheriff wouldn’t be happy to learn that Adam hated his brother.

  “You remember the talk we just had about speaking honestly, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.” And Adam had just vowed not to lie to anyone ever again. “I’m angry, sir, but believe me, you don’t want to know why.”

  “Is that a polite way of telling me it’s none of my business?”

  A sick feeling rippled through his stomach, but he’d made a promise not to lie. “Your brother thinks I gave a parasol to Rebecca because I’m trying to court her.”

  The sheriff’s eyebrows lowered, but he seemed confused instead of angry. “Did you tell Rebecca you wanted to court her?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you give her a parasol?”

  “No.”

  “Are you being truthful with me?”

  “Yes,” Adam said, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

  “All right then.” The sheriff gave him a nod as if to say Adam shouldn’t worry about this. “I’ll talk to Radford.”

  “You believe me?” he asked, shocked.

  “Yes, Adam. I’m trusting you to be truthful with me. Now go on and cast that line. I’d like some fish for my supper.”

  Stunned, mind reeling, Adam obeyed, but his hook had barely hit the water when the rod dipped.

  The sheriff gripped the pole and gave it a quick upward thrust. “You got him.”

  “A fish?”

  “Either that or a mermaid.”

  Adam winced at his stupid question. “Should I reel him in?”

  The sheriff released the rod and shook his head. “This fella wants to run. We’ll have to tire him out before we net him.”

  The fish was pulling so hard he was towing the boat! Adam panicked. “I don’t know what to do.” His heart pounded and he tried to hand the rod to the sheriff, who wouldn’t take it.

  “Just keep your grip firm and don’t let him run the line out.” He looked at the reel then at Adam. “When the line slackens, reel it in. If he fights hard, give him a bit of line to run with. He’ll get tired before you do.”

  The reel spun as the fish fought the hook. Adam locked his fingers around the rod, reeling when the sheriff said to reel, holding steady when the sheriff warned him to hold the line. Sweat burned his eyes, and his heart banged wildly in his chest, but he didn’t let go of the rod. The sun glared on the water and made his eyes tear, and half the time he couldn’t tell whether the fish was zigging or zagging.

  “I’ll bet it’s a bass,” the sheriff said.

  More like a whale, but Adam knew there were no whales in Lake Erie.

  Whatever it was, it wanted loose. Adam kept a firm grip on the rod, sweating and reeling and praying, until finally, he landed the fish.

  The sheriff let out a low whistle as he lifted the net and plopped the biggest fish Adam had ever seen into the bottom of the boat. “Looks like you’ll be bringing home supper tonight.” He propped his elbow on his knee and grinned at Adam. “Good job, son.”

  Sweat stung Adam’s eyes and his arms ached like they’d been wrenched from his shoulder sockets, but he felt ten feet tall.

  Chapter Nineteen

  *

  WAYNE ARCHER THUMPED his fist on his counter. “I’m telling you, Sheriff Grayson, the parasol was stolen. We displayed it in that stand right by the door, and Miss Richards has had her eye on it for two weeks. It was our fanciest sunshade, and I can assure you I would remember selling it.”

  Duke rolled his shoulder to ease the tension that was climbing his neck. “Could Mrs. Archer have sold the parasol?”

  “Certainly. That’s why I checked with her. My wife didn’t sell it.”

  “Did you sell it, Nicholas?” Duke asked Archer’s son, the boy involved in the incident at school with Adam and Rebecca.

  “No, sir.”

  Wayne scowled. “I’ve asked all the necessary questions, Sheriff. We conducted a thorough search of our store and could not locate it. The parasol was stolen.”

  “All right.” Duke sighed, wondering if he’d been wrong to trust Adam. He didn’t want to be wrong about the boy. “I’ll need a list of everyone who has been in your store since Saturday.”

  Wayne’s chin dropped. “That’s impossible. Nearly everyone in Fredonia frequents my apothecary.”

  “It’s only Monday, Wayne. Surely you can remember who came in on Saturday and today?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” he said belligerently.

  “As a candidate for sheriff, you must know how important it is to have a good memory. If you can’t name the people who have been in your store—”

  “I can name every one of them.”

  “Good. I’ll come by in the morning for your list.”

  “I’ll have it ready. Not that it will do any good.”

  Archer had publicly condemned Duke for allowing two swindles to take place in town. After the unfortunate incident with Henry Oakley, the farmer, Duke had warned the residents not to sign notes for anybody, but Ernie Lorenzo did it anyhow and got swindled. Now Archer would add petty theft to the list of crimes Duke hadn’t stopped. The man was as relentless as a mosquito, and Duke had to walk out of the apothecary before he squashed the annoying man.

  The man who’d swindled Oakley and Lorenzo was probably several towns away by now, working his cons on other unsuspecting farmers. Duke had sent a telegram with the man’s description and crime to every township in the county, and one to Buffalo, and another to Erie, Pennsylvania. That was all he could do unless the man came back to town. The parasol incident was an altogether different issue, though, and one that nagged him as he walked to his family’s sawmill in Laona.

  Who, other than Adam, would give Rebecca a stolen parasol?

  When Duke got to the mill, Radford was howling with laughter. Boyd’s hands were lifted as if proclaiming his innocence, but the look in his eye said he was guilty. That’s when Duke noticed the soaked front of Kyle’s shirt.

  Kyle set an empty water jar on a drag of maple logs then stalked Boyd. “If you ever again stick a board up my ass when I’m drinking, I’ll beat you with it.”

  Boyd gave him a lopsided grin. “I gave you a goose to see if you were awake.”

  “I’ll show you how awake I am.”

  Boyd danced away from Kyle’s swinging fists. Radford braced his axe on the ground, laughing himself to tears. Duke stood outside their circle, chuckling at Boyd’s shenanigans, but feeling removed from their horseplay. He had been missing too many of their conversations and jokes to fit in. He watched with envy as Boyd and Kyle laughed and wrestled in the sawdust pile.

  Radford went back to chopping bark off a maple tree, but stopped when Duke approached him. “You need something?”

  Duke shook his head. Radford would give him money, a warm place to stay, even his own body to protect his back, but Duke didn’t need any of those things. He needed to fit in here, and to be connected with his brothers. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me frame up Faith’s house.”

  “You’d do it for me.”

  Duke would do anything for his brothers. That’s how it was with them; they shared the load. Always had. Always would.

  “I’m courting her, you know.”

  Radford grinned. “Is that what all that drooling was about last week?”

  As brothers, they had smart-mouthed each other all their lives, but Duke couldn’t join in today. The situation with Adam bothered him too much.

  “If I marry her, Adam Dearborn will become part of our family.”

  “Whoa!” The humor fled Radford’s eyes. “You’ve known this woman a month maybe? You’re falling a little fast, aren’t you?”

  He was. He knew that. But he also knew Faith was the woman he wanted to marry, and that he’d lose the chance if he didn’t move fast. Fa
ith and her aunts were the talk of the town, and any eligible man would jump at the chance to make Faith his wife. Her financial situation wouldn’t allow her a lengthy courtship. She needed a husband and provider now, and would be forced to marry soon. She wouldn’t have to wait or look elsewhere because Duke was eager to marry her. He wanted her companionship, her passion, her love. He wanted what his brothers had with their wives.

  “Marriage will bring you more than a full-time bed-partner, Duke. You’ll be responsible for her aunts and her children. That’s a heavy load to carry, although I suspect Adam could benefit from a little guidance. That boy has a worldly, troubled look in his eyes that concerns me. And it should concern you too, if you’re really planning on marrying his sister.”

  Duke’s sheriff’s pay, added to a generous income from the mill, would allow him to support all of them. Radford, who got an equal cut of the mill profits, would know that; he was just jumping to unfair conclusions about Adam and couching his bias in concern for Duke’s financial welfare. “Faith is his guardian. The boy’s mother died two months ago.”

  Radford’s shoulders lowered and compassion replaced the wariness in his eyes. “That’s a shame. I feel for the boy.”

  “Then let him be friends with Rebecca. He just moved to town, and she’s the only person who has been friendly to him.”

  “He’s being too friendly. He’s giving Rebecca gifts.”

  “Adam said he didn’t give her the parasol.”

  “Rebecca thinks he did.”

  “Did she see him leave it? Or did he tell her he left it?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s unfair to assume he’s guilty. The parasol was stolen from Archer’s Apothecary.”

  Radford blew out a breath. “Which makes this situation even worse.”

  “Which means it could have been left by anyone. Or perhaps Rebecca got it for herself.”

  Radford’s eyes sparked with insult and outrage. “If you’re insinuating that my daughter would—”

  “Of course not. I’m just pointing out that other possibilities exist.”

  “Well, I don’t like any of them. And I’m sorry for Adam, but I don’t want him around Rebecca. He needs to find a boy his age who can be his friend.”