The sheriff gave him a curt nod. “My horse is saddled, so I’ll head out with Andy. You two come when you’re ready.” He walked toward the door, then turned back. “Have Homer Bean come over from the mercantile and watch things here in case something else happens.”
“I’ll talk to Homer,” Grace said to Micah as she tugged on her winter jacket. “You head over to the livery stable and get our horses.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Micah doffed his hat to her, trying to lighten the moment.
She snorted as she walked out the door.
At the livery stable, Adam Starling made quick work of saddling Mack for Grace and Ginger for Micah. Then, oddly, he made himself scarce when Grace arrived. Micah still hadn’t convinced her that Adam couldn’t be the thief, but surely no one would ever think the youth could destroy someone else’s property or frighten an elderly widow.
They rode east into a brisk, icy wind, which made it impossible to talk. Micah’s ears stung, and his lungs ached. And yet, just being in Grace’s company made the ride bearable for him. If this hardy young woman could tolerate such discomfort in order to do her duty, he could, too.
At the ranch, Sheriff Lawson had already searched the bunkhouse and now circled the house to look for any signs of damage or loss. Andy and Frank followed him, answering questions.
Micah knocked on the back door. “Mrs. Lewis, do you mind if we come in?”
The widow opened the door, and when she saw him, her eyes filled with tears, just as they had when Micah had come out to comfort her in the loss of her husband several years ago. Wearing a black woolen dress and knitted gray shawl, she seemed to have shrunk in those years, and now she trembled. With Grace right behind him, Micah stepped inside and pulled the old woman into his arms.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Lewis.” He swallowed his indignation over the senseless acts that had frightened her so badly. It was never easy to hold on to his emotions when one of his flock was suffering, but he needed to stay strong so he could offer comfort. “We’re here now. We’ll take care of you.”
* * *
Watching the Rev comforting the old widow, Grace felt something melt inside of her. What a good, good man. How could she not feel such strong affection for him? Hopeless affection, but affection nonetheless. She had to admit it to herself or bust.
She moved closer and patted the lady’s shoulder. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the scare, but I don’t think those outlaws will be back.”
Mrs. Lewis lifted her tearstained face from the Rev’s shoulder. “You don’t?”
“No, ma’am.” Grace shoved her hat off and let it hang on its leather strings down her back. “The outlaws are out to get the people who they think caused them trouble. They had it in for Frank and Andy, but you never crossed them, so you’re safe.”
Mrs. Lewis looked at the Rev as if seeking his agreement. Somehow Grace didn’t mind. The important thing was to make sure the lady felt safe, no matter whose words did the job.
“That’s right.” He squeezed the lady’s shoulder. “Now, how about you and I fix some coffee for the sheriff and Grace while they look around for clues.”
She gave him a sweet, maternal smile. “That’ll be fine.” She headed for the kitchen with the Rev right behind her.
Grace took that as her cue to get busy with her job. She found the sheriff outside with the cowhands.
“With no new snow for the past few days,” he said, “it’s hard to see anything unusual. Stone and Ransom have ridden or walked all over the place. The sun’s a bit warm today, so it’ll probably turn to an icy slush pretty soon.”
“Do we really need clues?” Grace didn’t intend to sound harsh, but her words brought a cross look from the sheriff. “Sorry. It’s just that—”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I know what you mean.” He stared off toward Mount Blanca on the east side of the San Luis Valley. “I’m frustrated, too. Where could these varmints be hiding? More than that, who could be helping them?”
Grace shrugged. “Maybe somebody new to the community?”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Could be. Let’s start by investigating anybody who’s moved in since the prison break.”
“Yessir.” Grace would also investigate some slightly older residents. She would start with the Starling family.
The sheriff stuck around for the promised coffee, but as they sat at the kitchen table, Grace could see his boot tapping on the floor, which meant he was impatient to leave. On the other hand, the Rev was his usual relaxed self, a trait Grace admired in him even though she was as anxious as the sheriff to get after the outlaws.
Always insightful, the Rev discerned their moods. “You two go ahead. I’ll stay with Mrs. Lewis for a while longer.” He patted the lady’s hand across the table.
“Thanks.” Sheriff Lawson wasted no time accepting the offer. As he stood and put on his hat, he gave Mrs. Lewis a slight bow. “Thank you for the coffee, ma’am.” Then he headed out the door.
“Ma’am?” Like the Rev, Grace had an insight of her own. “How would you like to stay at Mrs. Foster’s tonight?”
She brightened up right away. “Oh, do you think she’d mind?”
Grace shook her head. “She’s got plenty of room now that the hotel’s opened up. I’ll help you get ready.” As much as she wanted to leave, this was the proper thing to do.
“Oh, now, Grace.” The lady spoke with artificial indignation. “I’m not so old that I can’t pack a few things for myself.”
“And I can stay and drive Mrs. Lewis into town, Grace.” The Rev gave her his kindliest smile, the one that always quickened her pulse. “You go on.”
“I’ll take you up on that, Rev.”
Grace hurried out the door after the sheriff, more to get away from her feelings for the Rev than to do her duty. She sure did wish he’d hurry up and marry that Miss Sutton so she could quit feeling so drawn to him. As she mounted Mack, she snorted at her own foolish thoughts. The Rev marrying Miss Sutton was the furthest thing from what she wished. And yet she had no doubt that was exactly what was going to happen.
Chapter Seven
Grace had delayed visiting the Starlings because she couldn’t figure out a credible reason to do so. She hadn’t mentioned her suspicions about Adam to Sheriff Lawson because he seemed partial to the boy, just like the Rev was. Like many people in town, even Grace before this mess began, the sheriff often paid Adam to saddle his horse or deliver messages for him or run other errands. While Adam needed those jobs to support his family, the way Grace saw it was that they also gave him the perfect opportunity to deliver the threatening messages.
Grace finally decided to grab the bull by the horns. She took a shirt to Mrs. Starling for mending. While she could have quickly repaired the rip in the sleeve herself, this gave her a chance to do something kind for the family. They’d sure need plenty of kindness when Adam was caught helping the outlaws.
When they’d first come to Esperanza less than two years ago, the Starlings lived over the Chinese laundry. Recently, after Widow Beal remarried and took her sewing business to San Francisco, the family of five moved into her roomier wood frame house near the railroad. While the house had only two bedrooms, it did have a kitchen and dining area, and front and back parlors. Mrs. Beal had used the front parlor to display the dresses she made, but Mavis Starling put it back to its original purpose as a sitting room. Bob Starling occupied the back parlor. He still hadn’t healed from the beating he’d suffered at the hands of outlaws down near Santa Fe. About the time he’d seemed to get better, he’d taken a turn for the worse. Still, Mavis remained cheerful and full of faith as she raised and supported her three children, and another one on the way.
Grace felt guilty for thinking ill of the woman’s eldest son. But then, it was her job to uphold the law, and she couldn’t ignore
the way Adam avoided her. Odd that he didn’t avoid Sheriff Lawson. Or the Rev, either. Maybe he knew he had them fooled.
“Welcome, Grace.” Mavis opened the door wide to let her in, despite the cold breeze blowing in from the northeast. “What brings you here today?”
Feeling very much as if she were lying, Grace held out her second-best plaid flannel shirt. “Caught this on some barbed wire out at my folks’ ranch last weekend and wondered if you could mend it for me.” That was the truth.
“Of course.” Mavis didn’t ask why Grace didn’t just sew it herself. “Come on in. Will you have some coffee?”
More guilt flooded Grace over the woman’s kind hospitality and her own purpose for being here. “No, ma’am.” Grace had a feeling that if Adam had stolen one of the blue-and-white coffeepots from the mercantile, it wouldn’t be here but with the outlaws. Still, she needed to check. “On second thought, yes, that would be nice.”
The kitchen was warm and cozy and smelled of fresh-baked bread. Four-year-old Jack sat at the table eating a biscuit.
“Hey, there, little man.” Grace ruffled his dark brown hair as she sat beside him.
He ducked his head shyly. Just like Adam.
Grace glanced toward the hallway leading to the back parlor. A vague hint of sickroom smell occasionally blended with the more pleasant aromas of the kitchen. “How’s Bob?”
As Mavis poured coffee for Grace from a well-used black pot, her eyes turned red. “Oh, as well as can be expected.” She bit her lip. “Doc Henshaw thinks his pleurisy was brought on by this hard winter weather. If we could move to a warmer climate...” She cleared her throat. “Will you have some cake?” She gestured toward a freshly made cake on the sideboard that looked just the right size to feed a family of five.
“No, ma’am.” Grace patted her belly. “Everybody likes to feed the visiting deputy.” Nobody had fed her today, but Mavis didn’t need to know that. It was still a fact.
Mavis laughed softly. “And the preacher.”
Before she could stop herself, Grace jolted. “Did the Rev stop by?”
“Yes. He came to visit Bob and, like you, brought some mending for me to do.” She chuckled softly. “I think he could have managed to tighten those shirt buttons himself, but he’s kind to help us out that way.”
Grace felt heat rising up her neck. Here she’d thought herself so clever. She drank her coffee to hide her embarrassment.
“Bob was greatly encouraged by the visit, of course. Reverend Thomas has a way about him that soothes the worried soul.”
“That’s true.” Grace hadn’t felt soothed in the Rev’s company for some time now, but she sure couldn’t say that to Mavis. Instead, she looked around the kitchen, trying not to be obvious in her search for clues. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Too bad she couldn’t ask for a tour of the house. Instead she asked after Mavis’s two other children.
“Adam and Molly are in school.” She gazed out the window and smiled. “Molly’s in first grade and loves it. Adam loves school, too. I think he’d like to be a history teacher.” Her eyes filled. “I don’t know how we’d ever manage his education.”
Grace reached over and patted her hand as she’d seen the Rev do for Mrs. Lewis.
Mavis gripped her hand and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
What was she doing here? This wasn’t investigating. She had to do something, say something.
“Mavis, have you heard about the threats—”
“Shh!” Mavis eyed her small son. “Jack, run along to your room and play with your blocks.”
The boy quickly complied—a testament to Mavis’s good parenting. Adam had probably been reared by the same methods. What could have gone wrong with him?
“Yes,” Mavis said. “We’ve heard. You know we didn’t move here until after those outlaws were sent to prison. Reverend Thomas said they probably wouldn’t waste their time harming people who’d done them no harm.” She blew a wayward strand of hair from in front of her eyes. “After the way Bob was beaten half to death even after he gave the robbers the railroad payroll money he was carrying, I’m not sure I agree. Those sorts don’t care whom they hurt. So I keep telling Adam to be careful.” She bit her lip. “I try to have faith, but if anything ever happened to Adam, I don’t know what we’d do.”
For the first time since the troubles began, a thread of doubt about his guilt wove through Grace’s mind. Why would a young man from such a close, caring family risk all of their futures by throwing in with desperate outlaws?
A rasping, barking cough from the back parlor, followed by a cry of pain, answered her question. What loving son wouldn’t look for every chance to help his sickly father? Even if it meant breaking the law.
* * *
“I cannot imagine what happened to my cake.” Her pretty face a study in misery, Miss Sutton held out the pan to show Micah and Joel the freshly cooked, lopsided, barely risen pastry. “This has never happened to me before.”
“Why, no, of course not.” Joel walked across the kitchen and put an arm around her waist. “You’re an excellent cook, Elly.” He looked at Micah with a hint of accusation in his eyes. “Could something be wrong with your stove?”
Micah coughed softly into his hand to keep from laughing. “I won’t say it’s not the stove. However, at this altitude, most recipes need to be adjusted. At least that’s what I’ve heard Miss Pam say.”
The brother and sister looked at each other doubtfully.
“Miss Pam?” Miss Sutton blinked her blue eyes. “Does she cook at the hotel?”
“No. She has her own business, Williams’s Café on Main Street, two doors down from the mercantile,” Micah said. “Why don’t we go there for dinner today? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping you.”
Miss Sutton’s face went through a series of expressions, none of which, Micah was certain, she had learned at finishing school. Indignation. Wariness. Defeat. And finally, determination.
“I’ll fetch my hat and coat.” She set the failed cake back on the stovetop and hurried from the kitchen.
Micah grabbed a hot pad and pulled the pan to safety before the heat further ruined it. “It looks like the cake I once tried to bake. Flat as a pancake, but not bad on the taste buds. Want to try some?”
“Sure thing.” Joel laughed. “Can’t let it go to waste.”
They munched a few bites of the chewy concoction and agreed it was worth saving for later. Maybe they could even add icing or at least molasses.
The two-block walk to the café took less time than usual, even with the blustery wind trying to impede their progress. Miss Sutton marched toward her goal like a soldier determined to scale an enemy’s wall. Micah had to admire her resolve. For all of her hauteur, she might just have the grit to make it out here in the West.
She paused to study the front of the café, a brief scowl her only sign of disapproval for the plainness of the modest, red-trimmed building. But determination took over once more, and she gave Joel an expectant look.
He dutifully opened the door and escorted her inside, with Micah right behind her. The café was nearly full, as always at this time of day. Many merchants and cowboys took their noon meals here because of the convenience, but more often because of the excellent cuisine. In spite of the crowd, Miss Pam took time to greet every customer and escort them to a table.
“Good morning, Miss Pam.” Micah paused to hang his coat and bowler hat beside Joel’s and his sister’s on nearby pegs.
“Welcome, Reverend Thomas.” The tall, middle-aged lady gave him her sweet, welcoming smile. “And these folks are your company I’ve heard so much about. Howdy.” She held her hand out to Miss Sutton. “Welcome to Esperanza. Sorry we didn’t get to speak at prayer meeting the other night.”
Miss Sutton’s eyes widened in horror, but when Joel nudg
ed her with his elbow, she caught on quicker than Micah expected.
Touching Miss Pam’s hand, she smiled pleasantly. “Miss Pam, I’ve heard so much about you, too.”
Micah wouldn’t contradict her, even though to his knowledge she hadn’t heard of Miss Pam until about twenty minutes ago.
With the proprietress busy with her many customers, they took their seats at a table at the back of the room. The waitress, Leah, took their order, and they were soon enjoying bowls of beef stew, complete with potatoes, carrots, peas, onions and rich, thick gravy, one of Micah’s favorite dishes.
With the crowd thinning out and their table not needed, they lingered after their meal until Miss Pam could join them. While Micah and Joel pretended to look interested, the two ladies chatted about recipes and how to adjust baked goods for the higher altitude: a bit more of this, a bit less of that, don’t beat too much air into the eggs, use slightly more heat in the stove. As Miss Sutton wrote notes on a tablet she’d brought along, she behaved as if Miss Pam had been her dearest friend for years. Best of all, she seemed completely sincere.
Perhaps her problem from the beginning was that she’d needed to see how kind and generous the people of Esperanza were. On the way back to the parsonage, as the blustery wind buffeted them, she chatted gaily about what she’d learned. Before they reached the front door, she grasped Joel’s arm and spun him around.
“Right now,” she said. “I want to go back to the mercantile right now and buy more ingredients.”
“Of course, my dear.” Joel cast a look of resignation in Micah’s direction. “Will you come?”
“You two go ahead. I need to finish my sermon for tomorrow morning.”
“Very well.” Miss Sutton made no attempt to coax him. In fact, she seemed indifferent to his refusal.
Micah could hardly believe the transformation. And yet, pleased as he was to see the improvement in her attitude toward his beloved town, he still didn’t feel anything more than kindness and friendliness toward her. That afternoon as he sat in his office, he questioned once again whether she might be the wife the Lord had chosen. Even as he prayed, his heart told him “no.” And yet somehow he knew he was to marry soon. But whom should he marry?
Cowgirl Under the Mistletoe Page 10