Sheriff Takes a Bride (Silhouette Romance)

by Kaye, Gayle

  Was it because these kids suddenly seemed like Cam’s? That she’d been thinking of him in terms of fatherhood?

  She felt like an interloper as they peered up at her. She tried a smile, and the boys responded ever as shyly.

  “Hey, guys, I’d like you to meet Miss Hallie. Hallie, this is Grady, Aaron, Eddie, Levi and Garth.” He named each in turn, ruffling their hair or giving them a friendly sock on their shoulder.

  The boys seemed to love it

  “Say hello to the pretty lady,” he added, and in unison, they all did.

  “Are you the sheriff’s girlfriend?” the one named Garth wanted to know, and Hallie was certain she saw Cam redden slightly.

  “Uh, no—Miss Hallie’s not my girlfriend. She’s just here on...business,” he explained.

  “What kinda business?” This from Eddie.

  Hallie shot Cam a look that begged him not to draw Granny’s...alleged activities into the conversation.

  He didn’t.

  “Just, uh, business,” he said. “Now, you guys run along—we’ll have another session next week, I promise.”

  The boys trooped out, Garth carefully handing Cam back his fly rod before scooting out after the others. Hallie watched them go, realizing she’d just lost five little chaperones. She was alone with Cam.

  And she didn’t yet know what she would say to him about Granny.

  “I think it’s wonderful that you take time with those kids. And it’s obvious they’ve been struck with a bit of hero worship,” she added.

  Cam brushed her comment away. “Just fostering a bit of community spirit, that’s all,” he said, uncomfortable with her praise.

  The sheriff could add modest to his list of other attributes, Hallie decided. “Well, community spirit or not, I for one think it’s great.”

  He carefully, almost reverently, placed his fly rod in the corner beside a worn wicker fishing basket and an old red cooler, as if all were just awaiting a free afternoon of escape. Then he turned back to Hallie. “Before you crown me man of the year, how about you tell me what progress you’ve made with Pearl.”

  So, it was back to business. Or at least an easy change of the subject. Hallie took a seat in the chair in front of Cam’s desk, the same spot she’d occupied the night Granny had been put in his pokey. Suddenly she knew she couldn’t tell him about the recipe. She couldn’t bear to see Granny behind those bars again.

  If that was wrong, well she just didn’t care.

  Granny Pearl was family—and family stuck together.

  She squared determined shoulders and faced Cam. “I didn’t find a still—if Granny ever had one,” she challenged

  To Hallie, at least, this whole case was circumstantial. Cam had found a few bottles of white lightning, and a still only he claimed to have seen.

  Hallie’s find in the flour increased the odds of Granny’s guilt, but Hallie didn’t want to think about that at the moment. To her knowledge it wasn’t against the law to possess an old family recipe, even if that recipe was one for moonshine.

  Cam eyed Hallie closely. He’d been in law enforcement long enough to recognize when someone was lying—or, at least, shading the truth a bit. And he didn’t like to be lied to, didn’t like to be led down the primrose path. Elise had done that. So had his former partner.

  Cam didn’t forget easily.

  Or forgive.

  Hallie had everything to gain by withholding evidence about Pearl. Pearl was her grandmother. Family meant a lot in these parts, he’d learned. In fact, it meant everything.

  He dragged a hand through his hair and tried to decide how best to deal with this.

  Damn, but the woman had him snowed on Pearl’s front porch the other night. Go home, Cam, I’ll search for Granny’s still. I’ll get the truth out of her.

  He’d let a little bit of moonlight, and one set of foolish hormones, allow him to believe that.

  Hallie knew something she wasn’t telling him.

  Life had made him mistrusting to a fault, and now was not the time to change his ways. “I think you know exactly where that still is,” he said coldly. “In fact, you probably helped the old gal move it It won’t do you any good, you know, to protect her. It’ll only get Pearl in deeper than she already is, not to mention yourself in trouble for your...good intentions.”

  He eyed her with wariness. And suspicion. And Hallie didn’t like it. Part of what he’d said was true, she’d get herself in trouble for protecting Granny, maybe even for withholding the fact that she’d un-earthed—or unfloured—the recipe.

  But the part about being a co-conspirator, moving some foolish still she’d never laid eyes on, well, that stung. Worse than stung. It got her dander up.

  She stood up, needing to put herself on a more equal footing with him—although she was still a good ten inches shy of meeting him eye to eye. “You have your nerve, Sheriff, accusing me of complicity in this.” She clamped her hands to her hips. “Just what proof do you have that I’m involved in anything? Or is a person guilty in this county until proven innocent?”

  Her eyes snapped with green fire. She really could look meaner than a junkyard dog when she was riled. And Cam had the feeling her bite could be worse than her bark. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t quite mean...that”

  “You meant something, Sheriff. You were saying it loud and clear, in fact. Tell me, are you always this suspicious of people?”

  “Hey, in my line of work it’s a plus.” Cam didn’t have to defend his attitude. He’d be one poor lawman if he thought everybody he met was a saint. In fact, that kind of thinking could have easily gotten him killed back in Chicago.

  It had certainly derailed his marriage, not to mention his trust in his partner, his belief in his fellow cop.

  Hallie saw a flash of pain cross Cam’s face, his eyes glitter with some unspoken emotion she’d describe as hurt, then he quickly hid it. Or tucked it aside to brood about later.

  She’d touched a nerve. Just who was Cam Osbome? she wondered. And what made him so mistrusting?

  In spite of her fury at the moment, her curiosity was piqued. Cam was a man who had old hurts. She’d read it briefly in his eyes. What were they? And why did she have this irrational desire to touch him, soothe them away?

  Make him believe there was good in people.

  At least some people. Maybe Hallie wasn’t so innocent right now, but she considered herself a good person. And definitely—make that usually—lawabiding.

  As for Granny’s law-abidingness, well, Hallie intended to find out the truth about her relative, but until she did, she refused to accept Cam’s charges.

  “Look, Cam, I told you I’d get to the bottom of this, find out just what my grandmother may or may not be up to, and I mean it. I always keep a promise.”

  Cam sighed heavily. He couldn’t afford to alienate Hallie right now. He’d have to believe her for the moment. He needed her—preferably on his side. He kind of liked Granny Pearl, even if she did consider him lower than a slug in the mud at the moment.

  But he didn’t want Hallie to have that opinion of him.

  He wished he was the kind of man who could look the other way on occasion—but he was by-the-book. Maybe that was colored by his partner’s betrayal back in Chicago. Or maybe he’d never been a man who could bend the rules. He didn’t know.

  All he knew was that he didn’t want to see Granny get in any deeper than she already was.

  Or Hallie.

  “Thanks,” he told her. “Thanks for keeping a careful eye out. Things will go easier for the old gal if she stays out of further mischief.”

  Hallie decided Cam meant it. She had the feeling he had one small soft spot in his cold heart for Granny—though why he should, given her attitude toward him, she didn’t understand.

  She figured also that this was as close to an apology as she was going to get from the man for the moment—maybe ever. But what he said was true, things would go easier for Granny if she didn’t get into any further trouble.


  That was what Hallie wanted as well.

  That and maybe a little softening from the man she’d been butting heads with for the past few days.

  It was nearly time for the town’s July Days Jamboree and Greens Hollow always went all out for the annual event. There were bluegrass bands, barbecue cookoffs, fiddle competitions, possum races, dancing, and the best food the ladies in the county could prepare. It meant extra work for Cam with the crowds that descended on the little mountain town, enforcing security, and corralling the rowdies the partying always seemed to produce.

  So why was he taking such a keen interest this year? Why was he counting the hours, anticipating the big celebration? Why was he supervising the putting up of the booths, making certain there would be ample room for dancing, and that everyone would be able to enjoy the bands?

  He usually grumbled and groused at the additional workload, added two temporary deputies to the payroll, and made certain all the locks worked on the jail in case it received an influx of inhabitants from the day. Beyond that, he took little interest.

  But this year Hallie would be there, and for some reason he didn’t want to think about too closely, that made all the difference in the world.

  He should recognize that as a danger signal and look upon the town’s festivities as just another event. He should confine his contact with the two Cates women to the pending legal situation Granny was in, and nothing more.

  But he found he couldn’t help thinking about snaring Hallie from the crowd for a dance or two, holding her in his arms, and drinking in that delightful feminine scent of her.

  Another kiss might not be out of the question, either.

  He hadn’t seen or heard from her in almost a week. Trust wasn’t something that came easy to him anymore, but he had to trust that Hallie had things under control around Pearl’s place, that she might even be getting a few answers out of the old girl. Or at least, the best he might hope for, that Pearl was keeping her nose clean.

  At first he feared Hallie might have gone back to Fort Worth for a while, since she hadn’t been seen in town for a few days, but last night he’d driven out that way and found her car still parked in Granny’s gravel drive. He’d tried to come up with an excuse, a believable one, to stop in, just to see her, just to say hello, but at the last minute he’d decided against it in favor of good sense.

  He’d be seeing her soon enough at the jamboree. It was only two days away. And besides, he’d be plenty busy until then, anyway.

  “Hey, Sheriff, I got my gun all oiled and ready,” Junior Phelps, one of the deputies he’d hired, said as he strutted into the jail.

  Cam groaned inwardly. The man put him in mind of Barney Fife. But what Junior lacked in expertise, he made up for in loyalty.

  And Cam appreciated loyalty.

  “Uh, Junior—why don’t you leave the bullets out this year?” he cautioned. “I don’t think you’re going to need them.” The guy was liable to blow his foot off, or worse, someone else’s foot.

  “No self-respecting lawman goes around without bullets in his gun,” Junior lamented.

  Cam rubbed his right temple, which had begun to pound with a real headache. “I think we’ll all be safe enough without ’em.” Safer, he decided. “Did, uh, you check to see if we have enough barricades to block off the streets around the square?” Maybe with a little luck he could deter “Barney” here from his macho posturing.

  The man’s shoulders slumped a little, but he re-holstered his gun. “I’ll do it right now, Sheriff.”

  “You’re a good man, Junior.”

  Cam shook his head as the deputy swaggered out. He only hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in hiring him. There’d been no incident last year, but he’d had to keep a tight rein on the man’s... enthusiasm for the job.

  He returned to the paperwork on his desk. This might be the last chance he had in the next few days to complete it. He’d have plenty to do before the big shindig.

  Maybe he’d even get a fresh haircut, have his thick head of hair shaped in that fancy new shop over in Eureka Springs.

  Granny Pearl loved a party. All she’d talked about for the past week was the town’s upcoming jamboree. Her excitement about the day even bubbled over to Hallie, making her forget, at least temporarily, the trouble Granny was in.

  If the woman was busy planning and baking thirty pies for the occasion she wasn’t out getting into mischief, Hallie decided, and pitched in to help with the pastries.

  Would Cam be at the big event? she wondered, not for the first time in the past few days. Or would he hide out at the jail? All work and no play.

  She’d made no excuses to go into town this week; she’d been too caught up in Granny’s high spirits, and too busy baking, to spare the time.

  Fort Worth held many local events, and so did Dallas, but they couldn’t compare to this one small county pulling together. It was something special, something palpably alive.

  And she found herself looking forward to it.

  By the time the day dawned, Hallie was more than excited—she was downright nervous. The pies were boxed up and ready to be loaded into Hallie’s car. Granny was dressed in her best gingham frock, but Hallie couldn’t decide what to wear herself. Suddenly nothing she’d brought with her seemed right.

  She should have made a little side trip to Eureka Springs to buy something special, something that would make her look feminine, desirable.

  In the end she settled for a soft broomstick skirt that teased around her ankles, strappy sandals and a pale green blouse, open at the neck. She tied her hair up with a matching green ribbon, then thought better of it and let her hair tumble loosely to her shoulders. A touch of pale peach lipstick and she was pleased with her appearance.

  “Quit dawdling in front of that mirror, child, and let’s get a move on,” Granny called, tapping her tiny, but determined, toe by the front door, impatient to be on her way.

  Hallie put on a smile. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to keep her from enjoying this day, she decided—and only hoped she could keep that resolve.

  “Junior Phelps, you move that barricade and let us by. We got a carload of pies here and we ain’t gonna haul ’em all the way from kingdom come,” Granny barked at one of the town’s new deputies who refused to let Hallie drive up closer to the booth-lined street to deliver Granny and her pastries.

  The tall lanky man tried to look tough, but failed. “Can’t do that, ma’am. The sheriff’s put me in charge of these here barricades and told me nobody was to pass.”

  That put a whole new face on things for Granny. “The sheriff, huh! Well, you listen here, Junior. That man don’t know nothing about movin’ pies. I’ll deal with him later. Now you let us through or I’ll whup your hide good.”

  Junior seemed to debate which was worse, Granny’s wrath or an infraction of his boss’s orders. He settled for moving the barricade.

  “I’m gonna be in big trouble for this if the sheriff finds out,” Junior lamented, but he waved Hallie on through.

  Hallie felt badly about this breach of Cam’s directives, but Granny was right. Moving thirty pies from the parking area would be a task.

  They should have gotten here earlier, and they would have, if Hallie hadn’t spent so much time deciding what to wear to the affair.

  “I promise to clear this with the sheriff, Deputy Phelps,” Hallie said and glanced over at her grandmother looking prim and pleased with herself. “Granny will take full responsibility for any of the sheriffs unhappiness,” she added, then smiled up at the man, a smile that made him all but trip over his own two feet.

  “Hmmph! I don’t need you fightin’ my battles, Hallie,” Granny said as they drove on.

  “Well, it seems to me that you do—or you’d still be cooling your heels in that jail of Cam’s,” Hallie returned sharply, bringing another loud “hmph” from Granny.

  All the booths set up around the town’s square were brightly decorated. Granny quickly pointed out hers
, and Hallie parked the car beside it. They received plenty of help unloading the thirty pies, then Hallie left, promising to be back once she moved the car.

  No sense pushing her luck with Cam—and getting one poor deputy in hot water in the bargain.

  She waved to Junior as she slipped out through his staunchly guarded barricades and found the distant parking lot, which was already beginning to fill rapidly. The jamboree looked like it was stacking up to be a real success.

  Quaint old trolleys from some of the surrounding tourist towns had been brought in to shuttle the participants to and fro, and Hallie was able to catch a ride on the second one that came along.

  Her surreptitious gaze scanned the crowds as she neared the center of activity. She tried to tell herself she was just surveying the scene, but she knew what she was really doing was searching for Cam.

  Then she saw him.

  He was directing some young kids toward the game area that had been set up on the grassy open lot just beyond the square. Several of the group were teenage girls, and Hallie didn’t miss the admiring backward glances they directed at the man as they ambled away.

  She couldn’t blame them. Cam looked too good to be real in his freshly creased tan uniform. The silver badge pinned to his broad chest glistened in the bright sunlight. His gun and holster settled on his hip like he’d been born wearing it A light breeze ruffled his hair—Hallie could swear it was a new haircut—and she caught herself wanting to brush it back into place with her fingertips just to feel its silky texture, its brown richness.

  Before she could busy her gaze elsewhere he glanced up and caught her ogling him. He smiled, that all-knowing, irresistible smile she was beginning to enjoy a little too much. She should remember the only business she had with Cam Osbome was, well...business. Granny’s business.

  She also should remember that she hadn’t told the man all she knew.

  She glanced away, but at the corner the trolley stopped to discharge its passengers, and Hallie had no choice but to disembark along with the others.