“I don’t know why you’d think that, Jeremy,” Amy was saying. “I’m sure there are a lot of women in Evergreen who would love Bronte. She’s not too high brow for us.”
“You know, that sheriff of yours,” he tapped the books into line and turned to her. “He does remind me of Heathcliff.”
“Nonsense.” She handed him two more books. “You just don’t know him well, that’s all. There’s nothing dark and brooding about him.” She frowned for an instant. “At least not anymore.”
Dillard also slid those books onto the shelf, but paused with his hand on the collection. “Do you really believe that? A man with his kind of past ...” He swung around to her. “Amy, men like that don’t just wash off the stink of death.”
Amy stared into the box. Dent could tell she was struggling for a response. He started to respond for her, defend himself, when she tossed her auburn braid over her shoulder and lifted her chin. “You’re wrong about him, Jeremy.”
Buoyed by her support, Dent marched into the room. “Wrong about what?” Dillard and Amy looked startled by his arrival, even a little guilty—or at least she did.
But Amy wiped off the expression and replaced it with a warm smile as she climbed to her feet. “Dent, I hope you’ve got dinner there. I’m starving.”
He lifted the basket. “Susan loaded us up.”
She hurried over to him, kissed his cheek, and took the meal from him. “It smells like fried chicken.”
“Biscuits, potato salad, and green beans, too.” Pretty much feeling like the cock of the walk now, Dent allowed a half-smile for the other man in the room. “Dillard.”
He responded with a smile as warm as a rattlesnake’s. “Sheriff.”
Amy set the basket on the large table in the center of the room, which was mostly covered with boxes and books. Dent stepped in and cleared a few things out of the way to expand their eating area.
Dillard meandered to the food, peering over Amy’s shoulder. “I do enjoy a fried chicken leg.”
Obliging the subtle request, she snapped open a red checked napkin, picked up a chicken leg with it, and handed him the snack. “I can promise you, you’ve had none better than Susan’s.”
Amy and Dent unpacked the plates and together dished food on them. He noted with satisfaction how easy it was to work with her. They had a natural rhythm together. So far, Dillard hadn’t been able to disrupt it.
Munching on the chicken leg, the man wandered the room, eying the paintings on the walls. The collection of art was random as far as Dent knew. One of President Hayes. One of Lincoln. A photograph of Evergreen when only two buildings comprised her main street.
“Sheriff, how many men have you hanged?”
Amy gasped. “Jeremy, that is not—”
“It’s all right, Amy.” Dent straightened up. “Eighteen.” He wouldn’t run from his past. Especially if this jackass was doing the chasing. “And I’ve killed twenty-two in attempts to arrest them.”
“I’m a police officer, too.” Dillard matched Dent’s tense stance. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never even been in a serious altercation.”
That could change any second, Dent wanted to say. Instead, he went with, “Amy was. In my town...and yours. I think our records say more about the different kind of men we are than the towns we watch over.”
Dillard’s face tightened like leather drying in the sun. Dent held his own expression still, but the remark had hit home and he was glad. In his estimation, he’d laid a painful but accurate truth on his fellow law enforcement officer.
Dillard, however, found a way to twist it. “Exactly. I believe there are other ways to handle criminals besides shooting them or hanging them.”
“Gentlemen.” Amy slapped her hands on the table as if to keep them from flying up and slapping one of them. “I insist we keep this friendly or you can both leave and I’ll have the chicken and the library to myself.”
Dent and Dillard squared off with hard looks, but after a moment, Dillard acquiesced with a shrug. “Amy’s right, Sheriff. My apologies. I guess I’m just not used to Western law enforcement tactics. Violence and brute force over civility.”
Dent was inclined to give Dillard a close-up introduction to the tactics, but a tussle would have to wait for another time. In the name of civility, he tamped down the desire to throw a punch at those perfect teeth. “Yes, she’s right. Let’s just have a pleasant meal and forget all about our differences.”
With curt nods, both men agreed to bury the hatchet for the next half hour.
The meal continued, and out of respect for Amy, the tension settled to a low boil. Dent suspected at some point he and Dillard would have to settle things the Western way—with violence, brute force, and all. He looked forward to it.
Dillard didn’t say anything else on the matter. In fact, he didn’t have anything else to say to Dent at all. Finished with his third piece of chicken, he wiped off his hands and ambled over to his coat. “I believe I’ll head on back to my room. We’ve done enough here today, don’t you think, Amy?”
“Certainly. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.”
“I’ll be here.” He smiled, a charming expression for her, but it melted away instantly when his eyes met Dent’s. “Sheriff, please give the doctor’s wife my thanks for the food.”
Dent nodded, a quick, curt movement.
When the outer door closed, Amy let out a long, heavy breath and hit him with soulful, pleading eyes. “Does it have to be that hard every time you two are around each other?”
“If you’ll recall the conversation, I didn’t start it off badly. He did.”
She strolled over to him and laid her hands on his chest. She didn’t speak, but her sultry expression invited him and he hooked his hands behind her back. “No, you didn’t start it. He was rude. I just wish you two could be friends.”
“I suppose anything is possible.”
She chuckled and held his gaze. Every time he caught his reflection in her spectacles, he wanted to...well, marry her for one thing. The open window behind him allowed in a breeze that stirred the delicate wisps of hair around her face. Then the soft strumming of a neighbor’s lilting guitar reached his ears.
Amy heard it, too. “What a shame you don’t dance.” She slid her arms around his neck. “That song is called Darcy Farrow’s Lament and it is a simple melody. I love to dance and I would love to dance with you. Why don’t you let me teach you?”
He warred with pulling her closer or letting her go as an answer. Before he could choose, she tightened her grip. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I just don’t dance,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers. “Isn’t that good enough?”
Pouting, she pulled back. “I don’t understand you. Most men find holding a young lady in their arms and twirling to the strains of a romantic ballad...enticing. Am I not enticing?” She peered seductively at him over her spectacles.
Enticing? Just the thought of how enticing she was made sweat pop out on Dent’s lip. He swiped a hand across his mouth. “I made a fool of myself once in front of the whole town. There’s plenty of folks here who would remember it. I don’t care to repeat the disaster, is all.”
“What happened?”
“I was fourteen and Bonnie Stiles tried to teach me to dance at her sister’s wedding.” The memory still made him want to turn tail and run. Bonnie had never lived it down, which is why she now resided in Denver. “I was horsin’ around instead of trying to be serious. I got us all tangled up and we hit the floor...and Bonnie’s skirt flew over her head and showed everybody at the wedding her bloomers.”
Amy laughed, but bit it off like a door closing when Dent scowled at her.
“Yeah, I know it sounds funny but she never got over the humiliation. Every boy in town called her Bonnie Bloomers till she left Evergreen.”
Amy pondered the strange story. After a moment, she reached up and touched Dent’s face. Her hand was warm and felt like silk. “Sometimes, I would argue, you are
blinded by pride.” She paused, he assumed, to let that sink in, then sighed. “It hurts a little that you won’t give me the gift of a dance.”
“But I’d give you my life.” It came out sounding so much more serious than he had intended. But he meant it. “Truly. I’d take a bullet for you and not think twice about it. That doesn’t mean anything?”
Perhaps not the most romantic thing he could say to a woman, but her stance softened nonetheless. Once again she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know, Dent, it’s possible for a man and a woman to give their lives to each other and no one need die in the process.”
6
Amy pulled her brush through her hair and studied her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her hair shimmered like strands of molasses in the low lamplight. Dent liked her hair. Loved her. She smiled as her mind drifted back to her conversation with him. She would take a bullet for him, too. But then her forehead creased. Amy couldn’t fathom what made the bond between them so strong, so real.
She had no doubt he would take a bullet for her if the circumstance arose. Sometimes, though, things needn’t be so deadly. Sometimes, a woman just wanted to step into her man’s arms, look into his eyes, and twirl about the dance floor. No gunplay necessary to prove affection.
The joke slowed the brush in her hand, then it stopped. He’d hung eighteen men. Killed twenty-two.
Men like that don’t just wash off the stink of death.
Yes. Yes, they do. Don’t they, Lord? Dent wasn’t so hardened by his life as a manhunter that he couldn’t love—couldn’t be selfless and giving?
Couldn’t give her one dance?
A knock on her door snapped her out of the gloomy musings. “Just a moment!” She snatched her robe off the foot of her bed and hurried to the front door, sure Dent had decided to come back for one more goodnight kiss. Only, she was once more disappointed. “Jeremy? What are you doing here? I was about to go to bed.”
He twirled his derby in his hands with short, crisp movements, like a man with troubled thoughts. “I—I ...” He shrugged. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”
Amy leaned on the door, sad for him. “Jeremy, I’m sorry. Are you sure you should be here? I mean in Evergreen.”
He sighed and gazed up at the roof. “I just wanted a cup of coffee.” He came back to her and winked, trying to be charming. “You can leave the door open.”
That wicked grin of his always loosened her resolve. “Very well. Yes. Fine.” She stepped back. “But you’re right, the door does stay open. Better yet, stay on the porch and I’ll bring the coffee out.”
She and Jeremy sat in silence for a spell, enjoying the rhythm of rocking chairs, the fresh coffee and peaceful song of crickets. Within a few minutes the moon rose, washing her yard in silver shadows.
“This is nice,” he said softly.
“Mmm-hmmm.” But she wished for another to be beside her.
He drummed his fingers on the rim of his cup, as if he was searching for something to say. “He’s the interim sheriff. When is the election?”
“September. He’ll win. He’s been a fine sheriff so far.”
“You don’t think he’ll get bored staying in this one little town? No outlaws to chase down? No hangings to officiate? Evergreen strikes me as pretty tame for someone like him.”
“I suppose it would suit you better?” She had to admit, Dent had a made a good point regarding their policing records. He was a man of action and courage, if somewhat brash. Jeremy was amiable and loathe to act in violence. Evergreen did fit him better than—
Would Dent get bored? The thought hadn’t occurred to her until Jeremy had brought it up. But Dent hadn’t come to the decision to stay in Evergreen lightly. He knew what he was walking away from. He had made the choice to pursue a more peaceful life here.
“Amy,” Jeremy leaned toward her. “I know this kind of man. He’s a warrior, not a husband. A soldier, not a father. He’ll need something to do and Evergreen won’t give him the chance. He’ll chafe at the bit.”
“You don’t know that.” Her temper sparked. Jeremy didn’t know anything about the past Dent had let go of...even the decision to quit looking for the man who had killed his father. “He wants a life of peace now. He wants to start a family. You don’t know him well enough to say such things about him.”
“Maybe.” Jeremy absently rolled the mug between his hands. “I think I do. And I just wanted you to know...I’ll be here.”
At first she thought he meant emotionally. But his gaze said something else. “You mean here in Evergreen?”
He nodded.
“You’re not going back to Ohio?”
“Not right away. I want to buy a place here first. See about a job or buying a business.”
“Why?”
“I want you to know my intentions are pure, sincere, and passionate.”
Amy pulled back from him. “You’re wasting your time. I’ve tried to make you believe that, Jeremy. I don’t want to lead you on.”
“You’re not. But I believe you will see Dent’s true colors sooner rather than later. I want to be here for that.”
“You care that much about me?”
“I thought I was abundantly clear on the issue.”
“You love me?”
“Deeply and with all my heart.”
Amy discovered to her surprise she was flattered and annoyed at the same time. Flattered by the attention, annoyed that Jeremy seemed intent on watching Dent fail. He was so sure. She found his confidence unnerving.
Dent loves me. He would die for me. “Would you take a bullet for me, Jeremy?”
His eyes widened at the question. “I—I … Well, yes, of course.”
Amy wasn’t sure why the question had leaped out of her mouth, but Jeremy’s answer—the surprise, the hesitation—sealed his fate as the runner-up. No greater love... “Good night, Jeremy.”
“You look like a man who could use a friend.”
In the noisy restaurant, Dent had somehow managed to close out the world and was surprised by the hello. He smiled up at Audra Drysdale—er, Pine now, he reminded himself again. “Howdy, Audra.” He motioned to his plate. “You and Dillon like to join me for some breakfast?”
“Don’t mind if we do.” She slid into the seat opposite him. “I’ll go ahead and order for him. He’ll be here soon as he’s finished at the feedstore.”
She was a pretty gal. A delicate, flawless face, nice curves, and loose waves of spun gold hair had every man in town slack-jawed and stupid. Except Dent. Somehow he’d always known she wasn’t the one for him. “How is married life?”
“Well, when it feels like we’re married, I’ll let you know. Right now, we’re still courting.” Her green eyes flashed with amusement and fire.
He almost asked how long she was going to put Dillon through this, but checked himself. What happened in the Pines’ bedroom was certainly none of his business. She was enjoying dragging out Dillon’s pain, though.
“How goes it with you and the schoolteacher?”
“All right, I reckon.” Like he was about to talk to a woman about it.
“I heard you might have a little competition.”
He stabbed his waffle. “No, I don’t think so.”
Audra rested her chin in the palm of her hand and batted innocent eyes at him. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” As he sawed his waffle into several pieces, a thought on a related note did occur to him. “Maybe you could help me with one thing, though, if you were of a mind to.”
She straightened up, apparently tickled at the prospect of giving Dent some advice. “I am, absolutely.”
“If I wanted to ask Amy to marry me ...” he drizzled maple syrup over his breakfast, dragging out the moment.
Audra leaned in. “Yes ...”
“How do I,” he capped the syrup. “I mean, what could I do ...?” He shook his head in disgust. No way around this but to say it. “How do I make it special? Really...magical? Not just a nice res
taurant or a walk in the moonlight.” He leaned toward her. “I want to make her speechless.”
Audra grinned—big, wide, and beautiful. “You let me ask her some questions.”
A smiling, perky Audra Pine met Amy coming out of the schoolhouse. “Good afternoon, Amy.”
“Audra. What a nice surprise.”
“I hope so. I was wondering if you would like to join me for an ice cream. We don’t get to talk much at church and I was thinking we should get to know each other better. It gets kinda lonely out at the ranch, just men everywhere.”
Amy wasn’t surprised by the invitation. She and Audra did see each other at church, but too often had an antsy man in tow. They had promised each other more than once to get together for a little shopping or a ride. Maybe Audra had resolved to make the extra effort at a friendship. Amy locked the schoolhouse door and smiled. “We’ve been meaning to sit with you at church, but Dent and I keep coming in late.”
“Then let’s take a few minutes to chat now.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t, Audra. You’ve heard about the books that Jeremy brought? I’m helping him set up the library.”
“You can’t spare fifteen minutes?”
Amy had to admit she loved vanilla ice cream. And could a woman have too many friends in a town the size of Evergreen?
What better way to find out than over something sweet? “Well, as long as you don’t hold it against me for not being able to dawdle.”
“Why, that’s just fine. I don’t have a lot of time myself, which is why I suggested ice cream.”
Audra hooked her arm through Amy’s and the two ambled toward town. “So, speaking of the library, I hear this Jeremy has intentions toward you. That can’t be going over well with Dent.”
“Oh, I think it bothers him some, yes, but I’ve put Jeremy in his place. Dent told me he’d take a bullet for me.” Amy chuckled. “Not the most romantic thing, I suppose, but when I asked Jeremy if he’d do the same, he hesitated.”
Silence said both women knew what that meant.
The Brides of Evergreen Box Set Page 25