Dent sighed and stared up at the emerging stars. “I don’t know what I did. But, you’re right, I couldn’t hang him.” He scrubbed his face, weary of second-guessing that one decision. “What if he goes bad like his pa? Kills someone.”
“He won’t.” The conviction of her belief drenched the statement. “Not Israel. He’s away from his father now. He’ll make something of himself. And that one choice showed me your heart more than anything else you’ve ever done. No one could make me happier, Dent. I’m meant for you. No one else.”
“Dillard wants to argue that point.”
“I know.”
And it didn’t matter a wit to Amy. She hooked her arms around Dent’s elbow and the two started walking again. She could enjoy Jeremy’s company while they worked on the library, which right now consisted of one room in the new town hall. She would have to do the work after school and on the weekends, which would cut into her time with Dent—something that wouldn’t thrill him—but the sooner the project was complete, the sooner Jeremy would be gone.
She gazed up at her handsome sheriff, his white shirt glowing against his tanned, clean-shaven face, one rebellious sprig of dark hair trailing down his cheek. No, he was not fancy, or wealthy, or college educated, but he was wise, steady, and hers. She hungered for him in a way she never had for any other man. She almost told him so, but such information, one could argue, would lead only to trouble. She bit down a secret smile. They were both struggling enough as it was.
Laughter and fiddles drifted to them on the breeze and a moment later they could see lanterns for the spring dance glowing up ahead in the twilight, beckoning to them. They approached the teeming town square, where she thought Evergreen’s entire population was milling around, eating scrumptious desserts, or dancing happily to a boisterous version of Maggie’s Schottische.
“Oh, let’s dance, Dent.” Giddy from the spring weather, the surprise of seeing an old friend, the gift of all those books, and the intoxicating nearness of the love of her life, Amy pulled him forward. She wanted to spin and twirl and hold her sheriff close.
“No, I’m sorry.” He dug his feet in. “I don’t dance.”
She tugged, thinking he was joking. “Oh, come on.”
“No, really.” He disentangled himself from her, but held her fingers lightly. “I really don’t know how. I never learned.”
“Then I’ll teach you.” She gripped his hand and pulled.
“No, I really don’t—”
She tugged again, but realized he was quite serious. “You won’t dance with me?”
“I told you I don’t know how.”
“And I told you I can teach you.”
Dent’s eyes darted around at the crowd. “No, maybe another time.”
Amy’s spirits sagged. She loved to dance. One of the few non-bookwormish things she enjoyed, to her mother’s dismay and her father’s delight. “Do you mean to tell me a former U.S. marshal who’s been shot three times and stabbed five, slept too often on the ground in the cold, and nearly starved to death once, is afraid of looking silly to the people of Evergreen?”
The quote was an old joke between them, but her beloved didn’t crack a smile. “I have no rhythm. It’s that simple. I could learn, I suppose, but not here toni—”
Something cut off his words as his gaze shot past her. She followed his line of sight. Jeremy waved at them, straight, white teeth gleaming, and pushed through a group of young people. Amy adjusted her glasses. She had to admit he looked rather dashing in a dark, tailored suit and polished brogans. He’d even made time to trim his caramel hair which stopped now at the very edge of his collar.
Jeremy was handsome, but he was not her sheriff.
“Dent, Amy,” he greeted them on approach.
“I thought you said you weren’t up for the dance.” She allowed him to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
“I got back to my room, comfortably full from your dinner, and then I heard the fiddles.”
“And you just had to come dance?”
“I did. I did.” He passed a quick glance over Dent then to Amy. “I see you’re not dancing. Would you take a turn with me then?”
She sucked in a breath. There was no way to say no without sounding rude, no way to say yes without exacerbating Dent’s fears. But she so wanted to dance.
Jeremy extended his hand ...
Dent wouldn’t be intimidated. He was still walking on air from all of Amy’s praises and his confidence had soared. He released his hold on her. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”
Confusion flitted over Amy’s face, but she recovered quickly. “All right.” She took Dillard’s hand and the two drifted off toward the swirling crowd. But not before Dillard spared Dent a triumphant glare over the top of her head.
Dillon Pine wandered up just then, scratching his jaw. Dubbed Evergreen’s mail-order groom because he had married Audra Drysdale to get out of jail, he was now in the curious position of courting his wife. He and Dent had become good friends over the last few months, swapping ranching tips and weekend deputy shifts.
“That man,” Dillon motioned after Jeremy, “he’s the one who rescued Amy?”
“Yep.” The grapevine in a small town moved faster than fire on a dry prairie.
Amy was laughing and swirling—a picture of sheer joy—as Dillard guided her with confidence. He was light on his feet. Dent’s mood sagged a little and he wanted to talk about something else. “So, how goes it with you and Audra?”
“It is a strange circumstance I find myself in, Dent. I’m in love with my wife and I’m having to court her.” He rubbed his neck, as if the muscles there stored the tension from his entire body. “It makes for some interesting evenings.”
Dent was familiar with the problem. Leaving Amy every night to return either to a cot at the Sheriff’s office or the cold, lonely ranch was not ideal. But Dillon—he and Audra were married. “If it’s going well, what are you waiting on?”
Long and lean like Dent, but fair-haired and heavier built, Dillon tilted his head and sighed. “Her. It’s hard to explain, but you know how I got here. An arranged marriage, of all things. I want her to be sure. When she comes to me, I’ll know.”
Dent could see the wisdom in that approach, and the challenge. He rubbed the taut muscles in his own neck. Of course, he hadn’t gotten that far yet. First he had to ask Amy to marry him. Until Dillard arrived, he had thought her yes was a foregone conclusion. Watching them out there now, he began to have doubts again.
Dillon studied the dancing couple and crossed his arms, a skeptical dip in his brow. “I’m a royal flop when it comes to reading a woman’s mind, but I can read his. He’s a wolf on the prowl.”
“Said as much.”
“He did? Hmmm ...”
Dent wasn’t sure if Dillon sounded confused or impressed. “I figured I shouldn’t act jealous. To my way of thinking, that gives him the upperhand.”
“Sheriff,” little Audra Drysdale—er, Pine—slipped up beside Dillon and hooked his arm. A pretty thing, she was small, petite, and one of the best cowboys Dent had ever seen. Her marriage to Dillon had saved her ranch and put a murderin’ neighbor behind bars. He had quite a lot of respect for these two, but couldn’t imagine the oddity of their situation. She tsked at him. “What you should worry about is how Amy sees things. It’s her opinion that matters, not that fella’s.”
“You sayin’ I should be jealous?”
“I’m saying every woman wants to know her man is a little jealous. The trick is don’t overdo it or you’ll look like an insecure fool.”
With effort, Dent refrained from passing a frustrated hand over his face. This romantic dance was becoming too complicated. “I’m not jealous.”
Audra shook her head. “No. Why would you be jealous of a tall, handsome stranger whose teeth are white enough to light up a room? And he sure likes showing them to Amy.”
Dent clenched his fingers, eager to disagree. But she was right. Dillard was clearly en
joying spinning Amy around the floor. Holding her.
Dent wanted to kick himself. If he had just been willing to dance with the woman—but he had no idea how to and wouldn’t risk that humiliation ever again.
5
Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air over the spring dance. The musicians sweated as their fingers plucked and strummed. Friendly faces greeted Amy with enthusiastic nods as she swirled and dipped with Jeremy. Oh, how she missed dancing, though she would have given anything to be in Dent’s arms instead. She knew the game Jeremy was playing. He could pour out all the charm he liked. Her heart was with the brooding sheriff over there on the side.
“Let’s talk about books,” he suggested, subtly moving her to the other side of the dance floor.
“Oh, yes, let’s.”
“The shipment is still sitting at the depot. I’ll have them moved to wherever you say tomorrow.”
“There’s a room in the new courthouse waiting for them. I won’t be able to get there until about two or so, but you could start an inventory and I’ll assign the Dewey decimal numbers.”
“Already done. Every book in the collection was tracked, catalogued, assigned its number, and put in its proper place. All we have to do is unpack them. Your father even had library cards inserted in the backs of the books.”
Amy was ecstatic. “That cuts down our work significantly. I thought we’d be working on this for a month. We should be able to have the library up and running in a matter of days.”
“Yes, we’ll make quick work of it. Sadly.”
Amy didn’t meet his gaze. While she was delighted at the new library and her father’s generosity, she felt crowded by Jeremy, and downright pressured. Why did he have to show up now? She couldn’t let him get the wrong idea. “Jeremy …” she adjusted her glasses using her bad arm and was pleased there was no twinge of pain. “I’m so glad you brought me the books and my jewelry, I truly am... “
“But?”
She missed a step and they laughed. “I’m sorry. Was that your foot?”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll not complain.” The good humor faded from his face. “All joking aside, Amy, I have to ask. With his penchant for violence—well, what in the world are you thinking?”
“That’s a rather impertinent question, Jeremy.”
“He seems to attract trouble and you’ve been in the middle of it twice now. Forgive me for saying so, but you’re lucky to be alive, no thanks to him.”
Amy took a deep breath to buy a moment to think before she responded. And a thought did come to her. “Jeremy, I realize you saw me at my worst. I was broken, afraid, confused. Needy.” She let the word settle before continuing. “God is good. I’ve healed from all that and I’m even stronger than I was before. Dent has been a huge part of my recovery. You wouldn’t know that because you didn’t know me before the attack. I’m a grown, intelligent woman, and I can make my own decisions.”
“I can see that.”
They danced a few minutes in a tense silence. Amy didn’t want to leave on an unpleasant note, especially since they had to work together on the library. Before she could find a way to bridge the gap, however, he spoke again.
“You have changed, grown. Perhaps you should look at Dent and me with fresh eyes. I came because I wanted to see you again. Not a day has gone by that I didn’t think of you. My feelings are the same, Amy. Now I won’t mention them again. If your affections toward me haven’t changed by the time the library is ready, I’ll kiss you goodbye and return to Swanton. Does that sound reasonable?”
Agreeing would bring peace between them and in a few weeks, he would be gone. “Yes. I think you’ll be disappointed with the final result, but yes.”
Amy stepped into the room that would soon be Evergreen’s new library. The musty scent of books and fresh lumber wafted over her. She took in the chaos of pine shipping crates strewn about the large room, tables with books stacked willy-nilly on them, half-stocked rows of shelves, and Jeremy, arms full of books, walking from one bookcase to the other, setting them in their new homes.
She turned to Doc Woodruff, the grizzled, wise town physician, and—due to Coker’s departure—the interim mayor now. “Look how much he’s gotten done today.”
“Pretty impressive.” Scratching his chin, he stepped with her into the room.
“Jeremy, I can’t believe how much you’ve accomplished.”
He set an armload of books down and approached her, brushing the dust from his hands. “I have been a busy man. It keeps my mind occupied tracing down all those Dewey decimals.”
Amy chose to ignore the subtle hint and motioned to Doc. “I’d like you to meet Doctor Henry Woodruff.”
The two shook. “Nice to meet you, son.” Doc surveyed the room again. “This is a mighty lot of books. We are going to have one fine library. We’ll be the envy of every town in Wyoming. All because of our school teacher here and her friends. Thank you for helping.”
“Ah, Amy knows I’d do anything for her. Setting up a library doesn’t seem like hard work at all.”
A troubled crease grooved Doc’s brow. “Yes, I suppose we’d all do just about anything for her.” He patted her on the shoulder. “She is a treasure to the town.”
“Absolutely,” Jeremy agreed, being too pointed with his gaze. “Priceless.”
“Uh, well,” Doc pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “I’ve got an appointment at my office. Amy, I’ll send Dent by in a bit to escort you to dinner.”
“Oh, about that,” Amy waved a hand at the library, “I should have let you and Susan know sooner. I need to be here to do my part. We’ll be working till about seven or so probably every night for the next few weeks.” She shifted to Jeremy. “I’ve got papers to grade tonight. I can’t stay past that.”
“Well, I’ve put in a long day.” He picked up his stack of books again. “Why don’t we just go to six and then have dinner.”
“Fine idea,” Doc interjected. “I’ll have Dent bring dinner for all three of you.”
Amy bit her bottom lip to hide her appreciation of the suggestion and nodded. “That’s a lovely idea.”
“You’d best watch him, Dent.” Doc motioned at him with a forkful of chicken. “He’s after your girl.” The doc looked at his wife sitting at the other end of the dinner table. “Didn’t you say you agree, Susan?”
“Amy told me he said some things regarding such, but she put him in his place.”
The news brought Dent a little relief, but annoyed him at the same time. The man was forward, to say the least. Admittedly troubled, Dent flipped a chair around and settled into it, resting his arms on the cross beam. A quick, comfortable way to sit, since he was only picking up food, not joining the doctor and his wife. “You think I don’t have anything to worry about then?”
Glass of buttermilk at her lips, Susan paused. “I didn’t say that.” She finished her sip and considered his question. “Until she says yes and has a ring on her finger, Dent, I don’t think you should consider the competition over.”
Competition? How had this dang-near perfect relationship with Amy suddenly gotten so convoluted? If she wasn’t interested in Dillard—he decided to ask his question out loud. “If she has no interest, no feelings for this Dillard, what do I have to worry about?”
Doc snorted and Susan shot him a glare, her chubby, sweet face flushing. “Don’t gloat, doctor. Just because you’ve been out of the game for forty years.” She softened her voice for Dent. “No woman wants to feel as if she’s being taken for granted. Make sure she knows you appreciate her, Dent. That way, he can’t cloud her vision.”
“I thought I was doing a pretty good job on that front.” Maybe not if everyone in town was advising him to—
“Fight.” Doc said flatly. “Don’t take her for granted. Don’t take him for granted.”
A mild curse slipped through Dent’s mind, but he did not say it aloud. That was progress for him.
“Dent, it’s none of my business, I s
uppose,” Susan laid her fork down, “but did you have anything grand planned for when you ask her to marry you? Something magical?” Her hard gaze suggested he’d better say yes.
Dent felt like an elk staring down the barrel of a rifle. Grand? Magical? In Evergreen? “Not really. I mean, I almost asked her in the schoolhouse, but...no, why? Should I?”
Susan’s sympathetic expression made Dent feel like an idiot. She rose from the table and dropped her napkin in her plate. I”ll pack some dinner for you and Amy.”
“And Dillard,” he growled. “He’s there, too.”
She paused, shooting Doc an uneasy glance. “Yes, of course.”
Of course.
Maybe he could take Amy to Cheyenne. A nice, candlelit dinner in a high-tone restaurant would be magical, wouldn’t it?
Dent switched the picnic basket from his right hand to his left as he jumped up on the boardwalk. No, that wouldn’t do. Not for Amy. Tipping his hat and nodding at a few passers-by, he scowled inwardly. Susan was right. Somehow Dent had to think of something special to dress up his proposal.
But what? He scanned the quaint, clean town of Evergreen, the streets almost deserted now in the settling twilight. Quaint, clean, and boring.
He used to despise this town for those very traits. Once upon a time he had been a man with warrants to serve, criminals to hang. No close attachments. No romantic entanglements. In his selfishness, his life had been simple. He did miss that.
Huffing in disgust, he crossed the street to the town hall. In the foyer, he heard Amy’s rich, clear laughter, entwined, unfortunately, with a deep, throaty chuckle.
Dillard.
Dent softened his footfalls and approached the door to the library, a room just off the main alcove. He spotted the two, Amy on her knees digging into a box, and Dillard stocking a shelf with an armload of books. His jacket was draped over a nearby chair. He looked too comfortable, too natural, in the setting and that tweaked Dent like a mosquito bite.
The Brides of Evergreen Box Set Page 24