The Widow's Little Secret

by Judith Stacy

  Jared sat there stewing, and the longer he thought about what the mayor had said, the more quitting seemed like the thing to do.

  His office door opened, and Jared was almost afraid to look up, fearing it was Mrs. Pomeroy and her committee again, or Ben and Abel expecting him to hunt down their checkers.

  Instead, he saw a tall, lanky young man with a shock of brown hair hanging over his forehead, dressed in clothes a couple of sizes too big. He walked right over to Jared’s desk and offered his hand.

  “Sheriff, my name is Billy Weaver. Glad to know you.”

  Good Lord, what now? Jared took his hand cautiously.

  Billy folded his long legs into the chair in front of Jared’s desk. “I heard about your arresting Big Jim Ballard’s boy, so I come right on over, soon as I could. My aunt Frannie had me cleaning out the fireplaces, and I couldn’t just get up and leave.”

  Jared frowned. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir,” Billy told him. His gaze roamed the office for a moment, then settled on Jared again. “Is it all right if’n I talk to you before I get started?”

  “Get started?”

  “Yes, sir. Get started. On the cleaning.” Billy waved his hands around. “I clean the jail. Sheriff Hickert hired me. I do the cooking, too, for the prisoners.”

  Jared’s stomach rumbled. “You can cook?”

  “Oh, sure. My aunt Frannie taught me. Aunt Frannie says that anybody who can’t cook for themself is just about as worthless as a button on a hat. That’s what my aunt Frannie says.”

  Jared nodded toward the stove in the corner. “How about you get something started and we’ll talk.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “Them prisoners will be hungry by now.”

  Billy got a fire going in the stove, then went through the cupboard, putting beans on to heat and cutting off a hunk of bread from a loaf in the biscuit jar.

  “Give me a plate of that, will you?” Jared told him. “The prisoners can wait awhile.”

  Billy served him, then sat down in the chair again. He glanced around, then leaned forward.

  “Now, if’n I tell you this you got to promise you won’t tell nobody,” Billy said. He glanced around again. “’Cause if my aunt Frannie finds out, she’ll take a switch to me for sure.”

  The boy looked a little big for anybody to be taking a switch to him. Jared tasted the beans.

  “How old are you, Billy?”

  “Nineteen,” he announced, and sat up a little straighter. “Twenty, come fall.”

  “You live with your aunt?”

  “Yes, sir. My folks passed on when I was a kid. I don’t rightly remember them. Aunt Frannie, she raised me.”

  Jared paused over his plate. “Does your aunt happen to be a member of the Ladies for the Betterment of Stanford Committee?”

  “Shoot, no.” Billy waved his hands expansively. “Aunt Frannie says those women got no business poking their noses where it don’t belong.”

  Jared grunted. He liked Aunt Frannie already. “So, what is it you want to talk about?” he asked, biting into the bread.

  “Well, sir, here it is. I’ll just say it straight out. My aunt Frannie, she says that’s the best way.” Billy drew in a big breath. “I want you to hire me as your deputy.”

  Jared’s chewing slowed as he gazed across the desk at Billy. The boy looked well suited for sweeping up and cooking, but as a deputy?

  “’Cause now, see, Aunt Frannie says I need to be getting me a job. A real job. Not the little ones I’ve been doing around town,” Billy explained. “She’s done gone and taken a notion to send me back East to her brother to work in his can factory, and well, I just don’t want to go. So you see, that’s why I want you to hire me as a deputy. That way I’ll have a real job.”

  Jared scraped the last of the beans from his plate. They weren’t particularly good, but at least they were filling. “Being a deputy is a serious job,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know. But you need a deputy now that Drew’s gone to see about his mama.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  Billy just shrugged. “So, how about it, Sheriff? I’ll make a good deputy. I swear I will.”

  The town needed a deputy now that Drew Tanner had left. And the way things were going, they’d need a new sheriff, too.

  “Don’t decide right now,” Billy said. “You think it over. You just watch how I do my work. Aunt Frannie says that’s the real measure of a man, how he does his work.”

  “Your aunt Frannie sounds like a wise woman.”

  “Yes, sir, she is.” Billy smile faded. “And I don’t care what everybody says about you arresting old Mr. Hopkins or that Johnny Ballard, I think you done the right thing.”

  Nice to hear that someone in this town agreed with him.

  Pushing his plate away, Jared got to his feet. “I got to go out for a while.”

  “Don’t you worry about nothing, Sheriff. I’ll take care of everything while you’re gone. You’ll see.”

  Jared walked outside and surveyed the town. Just yesterday he’d stood on this very spot, thinking how happy he was to be here. Yesterday. Was it just yesterday? Seemed like a long time ago.

  And now he had to leave. No way in hell could he let the mayor and town council dictate how he’d do his job. Jared was a professional lawman. He knew what he was doing. And he wouldn’t kowtow to anybody.

  Be a friendly ear, a preacher, a brother? What the hell was the mayor thinking? That was no way to run a town. Even a quiet little town like Stanford.

  Jared straightened his shoulders. Better to get it over with quick. No sense waiting.

  But instead of going to the mayor’s house, Jared found himself heading toward the Cottonwood Café and Mattie. She’d probably dance a jig when she found out he was leaving.

  Jared’s stomach started to hurt.

  She’d said this morning that she didn’t like him, that he wasn’t very nice. She’d compared him to Del Ingram, too. That didn’t make Jared feel very good, either.

  He’d come to Stanford with high hopes of finding a home, finding a place he belonged. Putting his past behind him. Starting fresh.

  Now he was leaving it all.

  Leaving Mattie. Mattie and his baby.

  Jared stopped at the front of the Cottonwood Café and gazed through the window. No one was seated in the dining room.

  He caught a glimpse of Mattie straightening the cloths on the tables, and his heart lurched. What would it be like to never see her again? To never see the baby? To never know…?

  Standing there feeling like a lovesick puppy, Jared couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Stanford. He wanted to stay.

  He didn’t want to be the town nursemaid, but he wanted to stay. He wanted a home. He wanted Mattie.

  But how would he go about it?

  For the past ten years he’d dealt with hardened criminals. On the trail, he’d had no one to answer to. As long as he got the job done, that was all that mattered.

  The truth was, he didn’t know how to deal with people when their biggest problem was whether or not they’d taken their finger off their checker. What was he supposed to do with drunks but throw them in jail? How was he supposed to deal with a gaggle of women making ridiculous demands on him?

  Jared didn’t know. He just plain didn’t know.

  He had no training for this aspect of his job. No experience. No inkling of what to do. He needed help.

  The knot in his stomach wound tighter. Mattie could help him, if she would. She’d know what to do. She’d lived in this town for a long time. She knew everyone.

  The only problem was that she had no reason to help him. She’d just as soon see him ride out of Stanford for good. Though, honestly, he didn’t see why. He’d done nothing but try to help her, do the right thing by her. Maybe he needed to remind her of that.

  Jared pulled his hat lower on his forehead. Mattie was going to help him whether she liked it or not. And the sooner she got started, the better.
>
  Chapter Eight

  “I’m almost afraid to say it aloud, but we’re doing better today,” Mattie said.

  Seated on a stool at the worktable in the kitchen of the Cottonwood Café, she smiled at Mrs. Nance, who was standing at the stove.

  “Seems the noon crowd was the best turnout we’ve had in a while,” Mrs. Nance said, “thanks to the train passengers.”

  Mattie dropped the coins she’d just counted into her lock box and closed the lid. Before, the Cottonwood routinely sent a wagon to the train station to transport passengers to the restaurant during layovers. But that was before Del died. Shortly thereafter, when the new owner had showed up at her house and claimed them, she’d learned Del had lost the team and wagon in a poker game.

  Nearly twenty train passengers had arrived at noon to eat. The hale and hearty travelers from Minnesota thought nothing of making the walk, it seemed. Mattie was thankful. While it wasn’t the repeat business she needed to keep her Café going, she’d take it.

  Tapping her pencil against her ledger, Mattie pressed her lips together. “I’ve got to come up with more money. I’ve got to improve the menu if I’m going to get my old customers back.”

  Mrs. Nance nodded. “Most any merchant in town would gladly extend you credit.”

  Mattie cringed at the thought. That was her biggest problem. All the merchants had already extended credit—to Del. And now Mattie was left to pay them back. They were willing to let her repay them a little at a time, thanks to Del’s sterling reputation in Stanford, but even that was nearly impossible. It took almost every cent the restaurant earned.

  “I wouldn’t feel right asking for credit.” Mattie hadn’t told anyone, not even Mrs. Nance, about the debts Del had left her with.

  “Then how about talking to Mr. Burrows at the bank?” Mrs. Nance suggested. “He gives loans to the businessmen in town when they need it.”

  Mattie had considered the possibility. Mr. Burrows was pompous and uppity, used to looking down his long nose on people. She didn’t want to go to him for a loan unless she absolutely had to.

  Which might be any day now.

  Mattie looked over the columns of figures in her ledger. Her heart sank. How would she ever pull out of this hole?

  If only she could offer the hearty, robust meals she used to, her customers would come back. But to restore her menu she needed beef, poultry, pork—and lots of it.

  The problem was that meat cost money, and after paying Mrs. Nance’s salary, Del’s debts, and buying what meager supplies she could, there simply wasn’t enough money left.

  The restaurant was spiraling downward, and unless she got cash from somewhere, she’d be out of business.

  Her parents weren’t wealthy people. They’d left Mattie nothing of value except the home she lived in, and it made no sense to sell that. If the house were gone, where would she live? Perhaps with only herself to consider, she could make do with living in the restaurant. But Mattie had a baby on the way now, and a baby needed a home.

  Of course, there was the modest jewelry that had belonged to her mother. Only Mattie couldn’t bring herself to sell it—yet.

  “I’ll make my offer again,” Mrs. Nance said. “I’ll be glad to help you out. You know that.”

  Mattie smiled. Mrs. Nance had offered to lend her money from her own savings, but Mattie had turned her down. Mrs. Nance wasn’t a young woman. She couldn’t afford to risk her small savings on the restaurant. Mattie couldn’t bear the thought that Mrs. Nance might lose everything, and it would be her fault.

  “You’re a dear, Mrs. Nance, and I appreciate your offer. But you know I can’t let you do that,” Mattie said.

  “There’s someone you haven’t asked yet.”

  Mattie’s spirits lifted. “Who?”

  “The new sheriff.”

  She groaned and slid off the stool. “Don’t start about Jared McQuaid again.”

  “The man wanted to marry you, Mattie. How many other men in this town have stepped in to offer help?”

  Mrs. Nance was the only person Mattie had told about her near nuptials. Yet, somehow, most everyone who’d come into the restaurant had mentioned it. The news was all over town.

  Mattie waved away the thought. “I’m not marrying Jared McQuaid.”

  Mrs. Nance grinned. “I don’t know. Being wed to a big man like him—”

  “Mrs. Nance!” Mattie’s cheeks flushed. Heat wafted through her body. She turned away quickly, praying Mrs. Nance wouldn’t see how her words and the images they brought affected her.

  “Gets pretty cold around here at night,” Mrs. Nance added. “Having him in your bed would sure warm things up. And often, too.”

  Mattie fanned her flaming cheeks. If only Mrs. Nance knew.

  “Well, anyway,” Mrs. Nance said, “I think you ought to at least talk to the sheriff about it. I’ll bet he’d help you out.”

  “No.” Mattie shook her head. “This restaurant belongs to me. If I ask Jared—or anybody—for money it will be like taking on a partner. Then I’d have to share whatever money I make, and I don’t want to do that.” Her hand went to her belly. “This restaurant is my baby’s future. I have to keep it going for him.”

  Mrs. Nance smiled sweetly. “Still thinking it’s a boy, are you?”

  Jared had said he wanted a girl. All the more reason to hope for a boy.

  “A boy would suit me just fine,” Mattie declared.

  Mrs. Nance looked past Mattie to the back door, then smiled broadly. “Well, seems you’ve got yourself a visitor.”

  Turning, Mattie saw Jared walk through the door. Her heart beat a little faster at seeing him, which annoyed her no end. She didn’t even like the man, for goodness sake.

  Mattie crossed her arms and blocked his path. “We’re closed.”

  Jared frowned. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “I don’t have time. Go away.”

  He shifted his weight. “Now, look, Mattie, I—”

  Mrs. Nance breezed by. “I’ve got to run to the store. I’ll be back in a bit,” she called, disappearing out the door.

  The kitchen seemed suddenly smaller, crackling with some unknown energy as Mattie stood face-to-face with Jared. She pressed her lips together. “See how easily Mrs. Nance left? Why don’t you do the same?”

  “Because I need to talk to you,” Jared insisted. “I need your help.”

  Taken aback, Mattie just stared at him. The forceful sheriff needed help? Her help? She’d never imagined him saying such a thing to her, but for some reason, it pleased her.

  Still, she wouldn’t give in so easily. “Seems to me you never answered my question about the baby. Are you going to keep my secret, or not?”

  Jared frowned, then shook his head. “I don’t like it, but I’ll go along with it.”

  “Oh.” Surprised, Mattie smiled. “Well, thank you. Now, what sort of help do you need?”

  Jared rocked from foot to foot, pulled on the back of his neck as if he were working up to whatever it was he had to tell her. Finally, he blew out a deep breath.

  “Seems the mayor isn’t too happy with the way I’ve been doing my job,” he said.

  “Ah, yes. You’ve been the talk of most everyone who’s come into the restaurant today. The way I hear it you’ve arrested half the town and offended the other half.”

  “Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” Jared muttered. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. All I did was lock up a couple of prisoners and break up a fight.”

  “The Ballard boy. Yes, I heard. Jim Ballard’s Three B Ranch employs dozens of men who patronize Stanford. He buys a lot of supplies from here. Nobody wants to make Big Jim mad.”

  “Even if his boy was shooting up the town?” “Well, yes, I see you have a point there,” Mattie admitted. She clucked disapprovingly. “But really, Jared, locking up poor old Mr. Hopkins?”

  “He was drunk. Staggering through town.”

  “He’s always drunk,” Mattie told him. “Always st
aggering through town.”

  “How the hell was I supposed to know that?” Jared demanded.

  Mattie wagged her finger at him. “It’s just that attitude and that kind of language that offended Mrs. Pomeroy and her committee.”

  Jared rolled his eyes. “Those old biddies…”

  “They do a lot of work in this town. A lot of good work. You shouldn’t have treated them so disrespectfully.”

  “Oh, well, thank you. I know that now.”

  Mattie huffed. “So, what do you want me to help you with?”

  “I want you to tell me what I’m supposed to do with the likes of old man Hopkins. How I’m going to handle those two old coots fighting over a checker game. How I’m going to get on Mrs. Pomeroy’s and her cohorts’ good side.”

  “And just why on earth would I do that? Why would I want to help you?”

  Jared came closer, pinning her with his intense gaze. “Because I’m asking you to,” he said softly.

  Mattie’s stomach twisted, but not from the nausea she usually felt. It was something else. Something she didn’t understand.

  Something she didn’t intend to think too hard about.

  She waved her hands around the room. “Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. I don’t have time. I have work to do.”

  Jared grunted. “Okay, look. I’ll help you with your chores if you’ll tell me what I need to know. How’s that for a fair trade?”

  “Well…” Behind him on the other side of the kitchen, the sideboard was running over with dirty dishes. Thanks to their unexpectedly large noon crowd, she hadn’t had time to do the morning dishes, either.

  A little grin pulled at Mattie’s lips, and she struggled to keep it from blooming into a full smile. “Well, all right, if you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Jared gave her a quick nod. “I’ll fetch more firewood.”

  “I have plenty of firewood.”

  “Oh. Well, okay, then I’ll bring in those crates stacked outside.”