“Uh-huh.” Grace took a turn smirking at Micah.
He knew what she was thinking. As they had discussed, if Adam had heard Sheriff Lawson trying to gather a posse this morning before he left Esperanza, he could easily have warned the outlaws on his way to Del Norte.
For the first time since the troubles began, Micah felt a flicker of doubt about Adam. He wasn’t ready to write him off yet, but the evidence was mounting. Sick to his stomach about everything that had happened in this day, he excused himself so he could go home and pray.
* * *
Every bit of smugness Grace could have felt over being right about Adam vanished as she watched the Rev walk away toward the parsonage, his shoulders slumped in defeat and his head hanging down. It hurt her to see him dejected that way because he was usually so cheerful, so positive, so full of faith. But it couldn’t be helped. If Adam warned his outlaw friends that the sheriff was headed their way, he just as much as pulled the trigger on that rifle.
Without solid evidence, though, Grace still couldn’t arrest the boy. What she could do was visit Nelly Winsted and suggest that her son, Everett, shouldn’t hang out with Adam. On second thought, she’d have to give Nelly a reason, and word might get back to Adam. Despite loyalty to his family, if he feared getting caught helping the men who gunned down the sheriff, he might hightail it out of town. Besides, Nelly wasn’t all that approachable. Like many folks in the area, she thought it was scandalous that Grace wore trousers and carried a gun. If the outlaws threatened Nelly’s family, she’d change her ideas real quick, at least about the gun.
Grace would like to ask the sheriff for his advice about Adam, but he didn’t need to be bothered while trying to recover. She sure couldn’t ask the Rev.
“Grace!” Rosamond Wakefield called to her from across Main Street. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure thing.” Grace strode across the snowy, rutted road toward her lifelong friend. Stepping up on the boardwalk, she came dangerously close to giving Rosamond a bear hug, mainly because she could use a bit of friendly comforting right now. Instead she maintained her aloof deputy posture. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” Rosamond laughed. “I want to do something with you.” She grasped Grace’s hand and grew serious. “Garrick and I heard about the sheriff and are thanking the Lord he’s going to be all right. We decided to do what he told us at prayer meeting last week—carry on as usual, just remain vigilant.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “So we’re continuing with our plans to clear and flood the lot behind the hotel for an ice-skating party. It should be frozen by Saturday. After skating, we’ll warm up in the main dining room and have some lovely desserts and cocoa made by Chef Henrique. Henrique has already brewed the cocoa base, so it just needs hot milk. Garrick and I brought a special chocolate pot back from England to serve it in, so do say you’ll come.”
In spite of the icy breeze and her own cold musings, Grace let the warmth of Rosamond’s invitation seep into her heart. She couldn’t go after the outlaws until she had a sizable posse, and even then, the weather in the foothills was a constant threat. Also, as the Rev reminded her, this time of year, ranchers needed all of their cowboys so they could finish preparing for the long winter ahead. Here in the San Luis Valley, sometimes that meant clear into early May.
So why not join her childhood friends for an afternoon of fun? A tiny voice in the back of her mind said she might ought to go after the outlaws on Saturday, when all the cowboys would be in town and the best of the lot could be deputized. She would have to think on that real hard, but for now, she thought a skating party sounded just about right. She could always change her mind later.
“Sure. I’d like that. Is the party open to everyone?” If so, Grace would bring Georgia.
“Oh.” Rosamond’s pretty face scrunched up like she was thinking. “Well, we planned it for folks around our age, but everyone can use the skating rink. Mrs. Winsted just received a large shipment of skating blades, and Garrick thinks we should purchase some for the use of hotel guests and, of course, friends. I’m on my way over to the parsonage to invite Reverend Thomas and his guests.” She leaned close to Grace. “Actually, my original idea was to throw a welcome party for the Suttons.” She laughed, which she often did since her marriage to the handsome Englishman. “But the more Garrick and I talked about it, the more quickly it grew beyond that. So, yes, invite whom you will. We can always make more cocoa.”
Rosamond had a way about her that inspired others to be as happy as she was. Growing up on the next ranch over from her parents’ Four Stones Ranch, Grace had usually fallen into her trap, and now it was impossible to resist.
“I’ll be there.” She’d have to ride out to her folks’ place and get her skates, so she’d invite Georgia to the party at the same time. This was just what Grace needed, a break from the tension of her work. With everybody in town on the lookout for the outlaws, surely it wouldn’t do any harm to have a little fun.
What was she thinking? She knew better than that. She needed to round up a posse right now and head out to surround those killers. Of course it was too late in the day, but maybe tomorrow. And maybe they’d meet Adam Starling on his way back to Esperanza and could force him to lead them to the outlaws’ lair.
She headed back to the sheriff’s office to write a report of today’s happenings before she forgot the details. She set her hand on the doorknob at the same moment that Justice Gareau emerged from the bank next door, followed by Nolan Means.
“Afternoon, Deputy.” Nolan nodded in her direction as he locked the door.
Justice tipped his hat and gave her a friendly smile. “Howdy, Miss Grace.” A true Southern gentleman, that one. She appreciated being on the receiving end of his respect.
“We heard about the sheriff.” Nolan strode—or rather, strutted—toward her. “What are you going to do about that?”
My, he was cross, as though it were all her fault. Hadn’t they just shared a friendly Sunday dinner yesterday at the Rev’s house? On the other hand, with him being one of the killers’ targets, same as Grace, she understood his brusqueness. “Tomorrow I’m going to round up a posse and ride out to where the sheriff got shot.” She looked at Justice. “Any suggestions would be welcomed.”
The steely-eyed former Texas Ranger nodded. “We should talk. Maybe come up with some strategies.”
“Hold on a minute.” Nolan’s voice took on a hard edge. “You work for me, Gareau. The law in this town hasn’t done a thing—”
“Miss Grace.” To her surprise, Justice cut off his employer. “Give it a few days. Let the outlaws get complacent, thinking you won’t do anything now that the sheriff can’t lead a posse. In the meantime, deputize as many trustworthy folks as you can in case the outlaws decide to attack again. By the end of the week, you can call that posse together real fast and ride out to where the sheriff got shot. See what you can see there. They may not even still be in that location.”
All the time he talked, Grace could practically see steam coming out of Nolan’s ears.
“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.” Justice tipped his hat again. “Ma’am. Mr. Means.” He gave Nolan a nod, as if ordering him to proceed toward home. Nolan might be paying Justice’s salary, but it was clear the former Ranger was the one in charge, at least in regard to the banker’s safety.
Grace had to hide a laugh. It never was wise to offend the town banker, but if he weren’t such a starched collar, she wouldn’t want to anyway. He’d been mighty grateful when she stopped the robbery three years ago, but now he acted like it was her fault the outlaws had come back. All the more reason to catch the killers and put an end to Esperanza’s danger.
Chapter Nine
Micah found Joel and Miss Sutton having tea in the parsonage parlor. Once again, as he entered the house, he felt as if he were a guest rather than a resident. St
ill, he did enjoy the warmth of the blazing fireplace, a fire he hadn’t had to start himself. When—if—he married, how pleasant it would be to return home to such warmth on these bitter winter days and to smell such mouthwatering aromas as now wafted into the parlor from the kitchen.
“Supper will be ready in an hour, Reverend Thomas,” Miss Sutton said. “Let me fetch a cup and pour you some tea.” She didn’t wait for his answer, but went to the kitchen. In a trice, she returned with a set of her china cups and saucers.
Had she already placed her china in his cupboard? Surely not. While he enjoyed using fine china rather than his heavier, mismatched dinnerware, the situation was becoming awkward. Had he been mistaken about the interest he’d seen only yesterday between this lady and Nolan Means? None of the local ladies had been quite so aggressive in their attempts to lay claim to him. While such thoughts seemed incredibly vain, he couldn’t mistake this attention, which made him entirely uncomfortable in his own home.
“Thank you, Miss Sutton.” He accepted the tea and took a sip. Even though he’d had soup and coffee at the café not a half hour ago, the steaming liquid warmed away the chill that had cut through his coat on the walk home. A chill made worse because of his disagreement with Grace and even more so because of his doubts and fears about Adam, and now Miss Sutton’s unwanted attentions.
“We heard about the sheriff from Mrs. Winsted this afternoon.” Joel shook his head in disgust. “I wish you had let me go with you. Another set of eyes might have caught the shooter.”
“And get shot yourself, as well?” Miss Sutton sniffed. “This isn’t our quarrel, Joel.”
“It is if we’re going to settle down here.” He frowned at his sister, a rare thing.
She returned the look, and then softened her expression. “In truth, I had hoped to settle in a more populated area, perhaps Denver, where there are more stores. After shopping only twice at Mrs. Winsted’s mercantile, I have now seen the entire extent of all her wares. And—”
“By the by, Micah.” Joel stood abruptly, cutting her off, and strode across the room to the hall tree by the front door. “Mrs. Winsted sent your mail home with us.” He brought two letters and a brown paper package over to Micah.
“Thank you.” Micah didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed that his friend had taken care of his personal business. But then, Micah was already cross about his disagreement with Grace, so he mustn’t let his mood affect his attitude toward his old friend, who’d only been trying to help him.
“It’s from New York. Isn’t that exciting?” Miss Sutton eyed the package as if it were a present for her. “I’ve been dying for you to get home to open it. Oh, do open it now.”
“Elly!” Joel frowned at her again.
She gave him a little pout, which Micah found amusing. Clearly the young lady was already bored with Esperanza, despite her enthusiasm for working with the children’s Christmas pageant.
“Well, open it,” Miss Sutton repeated.
His heart hammering with sudden excitement that swept away the drama of the day, Micah studied the package. As he’d requested, the return address didn’t bear the publisher’s name, only his editor’s name and a street address. Apparently his editor understood authors who needed to remain anonymous. “Hmm. Maybe later.” Could they detect the waver in his voice? See the shaking of his hands?
“Oh, you men.” Miss Sutton sniffed again and then blinked. “Oh, dear. My potatoes are burning.” She hurried to the kitchen, and the clanging of a pot lid soon reached their ears.
“Whew.” Joel chuckled. “Sorry about that, Micah.”
“Don’t give it a thought.” He gathered his mail and stood. “I need to run over to my office for a while. Please excuse me.”
“Of course.” Joel didn’t give voice to the disappointment so apparent in his eyes.
Was Micah a poor host? He’d done very little entertaining since coming out West and had few memories of his parents’ rare guests. Still, he had to open this package or he’d burst. Leaving by the front door to avoid Miss Sutton in the kitchen, he crossed the side yard and entered the rear of the church, locking the door after him. Hands still shaking, he carefully cut the strings and unwrapped the brown paper. Inside was a cardboard box containing three copies of his novel. His novel! He lifted out one volume, a beautiful brown tooled leather book with an attractive, colorful dust cover picturing a dramatic showdown between his hero sheriff and a masked gunman. Above the picture, the title read Rio Grande Sheriff. Below the picture: A Cowboy Storyteller.
Micah sat back and sighed. How ironic to receive this today of all days. The rising bubble of joy and excitement he’d experienced just moments ago burst like a punctured balloon. He’d been inspired to write the story because of the failed bank robbery three years ago, before Sheriff Lawson even came to Esperanza. He’d wanted to write about the good, courageous people who lived here, to let readers back East know they weren’t all country rubes but, rather, the backbone of America. Not only that, but he’d written the book to entertain, to amuse. But now reality slammed into fiction. Real people, real lives. And when a sheriff nearly met his end today at the hands of evil men, Micah could only wonder whether he’d made a big mistake to write such a book. Maybe he should wire his editor and tell him not to send a shipment of books to Esperanza.
He rewrapped the package and hid it at the back of a lower desk drawer. Maybe tomorrow he would feel better about the whole thing, but for now, he felt the strong need to get on his knees and pray for the very real situations before him. The sheriff’s recovery. Adam Starling. And most of all, Micah’s disagreement with Grace, which caused him more misery than he could account for.
He returned to the parsonage just as Miss Sutton was putting supper on the dining room table. On his way to his room to freshen up, he stopped in the parlor doorway and gaped. Joel still sat on the settee, his eyes wide as he read a book—Rio Grande Sheriff.
“Say, Micah.” His friend grinned at him knowingly, and a shard of fear pierced Micah’s heart. “Look at what I picked up at Mrs. Winsted’s store today.”
How on earth had his friend discovered he was the author?
* * *
Snow fell that night and continued throughout the next day. Grace saw no point in trying to track the killers, especially after Justice had advised waiting. Even if a posse rode out, they could find more trouble getting trapped if the snowfall turned into a blizzard than if they encountered the outlaws.
As she sat in the sheriff’s office pondering possible courses of action—and coming up with nothing—her heart dropped considerably. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a deputy after all. Maybe she’d be better off just staying out at her parents’ ranch and working with them. They were getting on in years, and without a son to take over, they needed all the help they could get. With two sisters married and two more who were likely to do the same, she was the only one Ma and Pa could count on to remain single and take care of them.
And yet it was her disagreement with the Rev that bothered her now because she cared for him more than made good sense. Even worse, she’d always respected his opinions, so his insistence on Adam’s innocence was yet another cause to doubt herself.
One thing was sure. She couldn’t quit her job until Hardison and Smith were behind bars or six feet under. Somehow she had to make one of those happen before anybody else was harmed.
Fourteen-year-old Everett Winsted dashed into the office, bringing with him a blast of icy air and flurry of large snowflakes. He quickly closed the door and then pulled off his stocking cap to reveal a thick thatch of brown hair. “Good afternoon, Deputy.”
Grace’s heart jolted. Had something happened at his grandmother’s store? At his mother’s ice cream parlor?
“How are you today, ma’am?” The placid look in Everett’s eyes indicated he hadn’t come about some emergency.
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My, she was getting jumpy these days. In the past, she would have gone to the Rev and talked it out, maybe discussed some scripture verses and prayed. But she wasn’t about to go back to the parsonage, not as long as that Miss Sutton was there. Rosamond was busy with her high school and her husband’s new hotel. Maisie was busy helping Doc and taking care of their new baby.
“You all right, Miss Grace?” Everett stood across the desk from her, an anxious, concerned look coming over his freckled face.
“Sorry.” Grace tried to grin at the boy, but her lips were chapped and it hurt too much. “What can I do for you?”
He gave her a shaky smile, probably because the cold weather had frozen his cheeks, and pulled a book from inside his woolen jacket. “Grandmother sent this over. She thought you might enjoy reading it.” He set the book on the desk.
“Rio Grande Sheriff.” She picked it up and studied the brightly colored dust jacket. The two-man standoff pictured there didn’t appear very realistic. “Huh. Your grandma sent it, you say?”
“Yes, ma’am. A shipment of twenty books arrived yesterday, and she thought you might want to read it while the weather’s keeping you indoors.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I think she’s hoping you’ll like it and tell everybody to come buy a copy.”
Grace opened the leather book and thumbed the pages. She wasn’t much of a reader, but this would keep her busy while she couldn’t do something about the outlaws. The book didn’t appear to be one of those ridiculous dime novels that made cowboys and ranchers seem like fools. Maybe this author, this Cowboy Storyteller, would have some solutions for her. That was, if he wasn’t some sissy Easterner writing about a place he’d never been and this wasn’t an insult to everything she held near and dear.
She gave Everett a nod. “Tell your grandma I said thanks.” She wouldn’t tell the boy, but of course she’d pay for the book. These things didn’t come cheaply. Besides, giving a gift to a deputy might appear to some folks as a bribe. Grace might not be the cleverest deputy in Colorado, but nobody could claim she wasn’t honest.
Cowgirl Under the Mistletoe Page 13