by Judith Stacy
Jared gazed at the carefully tended farmhouse and gray, weathered outbuildings. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t rightly know. It’s got Aunt Frannie stumped, too.”
“Let’s stop by and introduce ourselves.” Jared pulled his hat lower on his forehead and guided his horse to the front of the McCafferty house. The door and windows stood open, white curtains fanning in and out with the breeze. They dismounted and Jared called out a greeting. No one answered. No one came to the door. Leading their horses, they circled the house.
A woman pulled bed linens from the clothesline. She looked thin and drawn, struggling with the billowing sheets and the loose strands of her hair. From a distance she looked old and weathered. But up close, Jared saw that she was young, hardly much older than Mattie. She wore a shapeless dress that did nothing to disguise her belly bulging with a baby.
“Afternoon, ma’am.” Jared stopped in front of her and touched his finger to the brim of his hat. “I’m Sheriff McQuaid and this is Deputy Weaver.”
“Howdy, Mrs. McCafferty,” Billy said.
Her gaze darted from Jared to the house, then quickly back to him again. “Nothing’s wrong. I swear.”
“We’re just passing through,” Jared said, “and wondered if we could water the horses.”
“Well…well, I suppose it would be all right.” Her gaze jumped to the house again.
“Where’s your husband?” Jared asked.
“Inside. Sleeping. I—I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t wake him,” she said, “if you’d just tend to your horses and be on your way.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll do that.” Jared nodded toward the basket of bed linens. “Can I carry that inside for you, ma’am?”
“No.” Mrs. McCafferty shook her head quickly. “No, I can manage.”
Jared and Billy watered their horses at the trough near the barn, then mounted up and rode away.
“See, I told you they were strange,” Billy said, turning in the saddle, looking back at the McCafferty house. “Ain’t they strange?”
Jared shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger folks.”
“Well, yeah, I reckon so. But still…”
While the McCafferty farm had been neat and well run, the Bishop place looked a little rundown by comparison. Weeds sprouted, the front porch sagged, boards were missing from the corrals. An air of neglect hung over the farm.
Six—or maybe it was seven—children swarmed in the yard when Jared and Billy rode up. Jared wasn’t sure, there were so many of them. The oldest he spotted didn’t seem to be more than ten years old; the youngest was riding on her mama’s hip as the woman walked out the front door.
“Afternoon,” Polly Bishop called, smiling and waving from the porch. “Hi, Billy.”
“Hey, Mrs. Bishop,” Billy said, dismounting. “This here’s the new sheriff, Sheriff McQuaid.”
“Ma’am,” Jared said in greeting, climbing down from his horse and tethering the reins to the hitching post. The woman looked to be nearly thirty, with blond hair tied back in a neat bun. She was wearing a crisp apron.
“Is your husband at home?” Jared asked.
“He’s inside,” she said, smiling. “Come on in. Cecil’s not getting around too well these days since he broke his leg.”
Jared and Billy followed her inside to the kitchen. Though the house was small, it was neat and clean. Cecil, teetering on a crude crutch, stood at the table sorting through a box of tools. He greeted them warmly, shook hands and offered them something to drink.
“Pleasure to have you out to see us,” Cecil said. “I can’t get into town as often as I’d like, with this busted leg of mine. Shoot, I can hardly get my chores tended to around the farm.”
“The kids are helping out as much as they can, and the neighbors, too,” Polly said, serving them coffee. She slid her arm around her husband’s waist. “But we’re doing fine, and with the good Lord’s help things will get back to normal just as soon as Cecil’s leg heals.”
He gave her a quick, confident nod. “They sure will, honey.”
Jared and Billy stayed awhile visiting, watching the Bishops’ clean, mannerly brood pass through the house. Then they mounted up and left. The sun dipped toward the horizon as they rode back to Stanford.
Billy started chattering again, but Jared didn’t listen. For some reason, his mood had soured considerably.
He didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe it was Hayden Langston sending him out to collect a piddly-ass account from a man with a broken leg, a man struggling to keep a roof over his family’s head.
Or maybe it was the way Cecil and Polly Bishop had clung to each other in the kitchen of their warm little home, surrounded by their children. The two of them looking at each other in that special way husband and wives did, knowing they’d work things out together.
Jared’s mind strayed to Mattie. While that wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and he often thought of her, this time the recollection made him a bit angry.
She’d been annoyed at him for getting the town council to agree to let her have a chance to host the supper. But wasn’t that exactly what she wanted? The opportunity to try?
Only Mattie didn’t like the way he’d gone about it. He’d sniffed around the subject with the mayor and seen that the man’s mind was firmly made up. Mattie wasn’t participating and that was that. So Jared had come up with the only idea he could, at the time. And it had worked. So what the hell was wrong with what he’d done? Couldn’t Mattie have said thank you for trying?
Silently, Jared fumed. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more worked up he got.
By the time he and Billy rode down Main Street, the businesses were closing up for the night and music was drifting from the Lady Luck Saloon. Despite himself, Jared found himself relaxing.
Home. Coming back to Stanford felt like coming home. And nothing had felt like home to Jared in years.
For all their shortcomings, all their problems, all their petty annoyances, the folks of Stanford were good people. He wanted to be here.
He was home. Even if Mattie wasn’t speaking to him at the moment.
And, Jared realized, being “nice” wasn’t so hard, after all.
At the Stanford Mercantile, Jared and Billy dismounted and went inside. Hayden Langston stood at the counter, counting the money in the till.
The man didn’t get out of his store often, so maybe he didn’t know that Bishop was laid up. Jared decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Did you know Cecil Bishop had a broken leg?” he asked.
“Oh, sure.”
Jared frowned. “Did you know he’s having trouble keeping his farm running, taking care of his family and feeding his children?”
“Of course.”
“And you need that three dollars so bad you’d swear out a warrant for a man in his situation?”
“Look, Sheriff, I’ve got a business to run here. I’ve got to stock my shelves, take care of my own family.” Hayden frowned. “You didn’t let Bishop talk you out of my payment, did you?”
Jared glared at him for a moment, then drew money from his pocket and slapped it down on the counter. “No. Here’s your damn three dollars.”
“Sheriff?” Billy called, following him out of the store. “Mr. Bishop didn’t give you any money. He—”
“Take the horses down to the livery, will you, Billy?”
“But—”
“I need you to work at the jail all day tomorrow. I’ll pay you full wages. Can you do that?”
“The whole day? How come? We don’t have no prisoners.”
“Can I count on you, Billy?”
“Well, sure, Sheriff, but—”
“Good. Come to the jail first thing in the morning.”
Jared headed for his office, but didn’t make it that far. Instead, he went to the Cottonwood Café and stood across the street staring at the darkened windows. He circled the building. No sign of life in the kitchen.
Mattie
had closed up for the night and gone home already. He was tempted to go to her house and try to talk to her. Maybe if he explained things better she’d understand and wouldn’t be mad at him. Maybe she’d come to her senses and have the good grace to say she was sorry for talking to him the way she did.
But he decided he shouldn’t. He didn’t want her upset. It wasn’t good for the baby.
Jared rocked on his heels and toes, staring at the restaurant. His chest grew a little tighter, as he wished he could go to Mattie, wished she would welcome him. He loved her. He wanted her badly. In his bed and in his life.
With a heavy sigh, Jared headed toward the jail. So, Mattie didn’t appreciate his brand of help, didn’t like the things he’d done for her? Fine, he could fix that. Starting first thing in the morning.
Chapter Fourteen
As plans went, this one was by far the worst Jared had come up with.
He moved along with the rest of the congregation leaving the church, anxious to go, craning his neck for a glimpse of Mattie, who was already outside.
At the door, Reverend Harris shook hands with his flock.
“Nice sermon,” Jared said.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” the minister replied. “And I appreciate you not shouting out for me to hurry it up, or skip over parts.”
“Yes, sir,” Jared mumbled, moving on. He supposed he deserved that, after the way he’d tried to rush Reverend Harris through his near wedding ceremony with Mattie.
Standing at the foot of the church steps, Jared located Mattie on the other side of the yard amid the Sunday morning congregation. His heart ached at the sight of her.
Stay away from her. That’s what his latest plan had called for. Make her want him. Show her what it’s like not to have him around. That would teach her.
Jared sighed heavily. Oh, yeah. Great plan. So great, in fact, it seemed he was the only one suffering for it.
Days had passed since he’d been in Mattie’s company. Sure, he’d seen her on the street and when he’d walked past her restaurant—in the line of duty, of course. But catching an occasional glimpse of her through a window was as close as he’d gotten.
For days he hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing her voice or smelling her delicate scent. He hadn’t heard her gentle laughter, or seen the way she pushed her hair behind one ear when she was too warm, or crinkled up her nose when she concentrated. His “plan” had kept him away from her.
And now, all these days later, Jared could say without hesitation that his “plan” had backfired completely.
The first day he’d enacted this brilliant idea of his, he’d sent Billy down to the Cottonwood to help Mattie carry the prisoner’s breakfast tray to the jail, then made certain he wasn’t in his office when she got there. Let her wonder where he was, he’d thought. He’d done the same at noon, then at supper. But when he’d taken his prisoner down to the Cottonwood that evening to wash her dishes, Mattie had been gone.
The next day and every day after that, Billy had come back from the restaurant with the prisoner’s meals—but no Mattie. And not once—not one single time—had she been in the kitchen when her dishes were being washed.
Watching her across the churchyard, Jared thought she hardly looked worse for the experience. Seemingly, she hadn’t missed him at all. He was the only one, apparently, whose heart was aching.
The murmur of conversations drifted around Jared as Reverend Harris bade his flock goodbye and the congregation clustered to chat. A group of small children played at the edge of the churchyard, squealing, laughing and running. One of the little boys yanked on a girl’s pigtails. She hit him. He hit her back. Two other children joined in before their mothers broke it up with stern words, leading them away, two of the children crying.
A chill ran through Jared as he saw Mattie standing by herself, watching them. She stared in silence, unblinking, unmoving.
Jared approached her. “You must hate me,” he said quietly.
She turned, and for a flash of a second he thought she was pleased to see him. Jared wasn’t sure. Wishful thinking, maybe?
He nodded toward the three children who’d resumed their game. “You must hate me for saddling you with this baby to raise.”
She gasped and her face blanched. Jared’s belly twisted into a knot. Seemed his guess had been right.
Then Mattie gazed up at him with those big brown eyes of hers, pinning him with a look that seemed to seep into his soul.
“Good gracious, no, Jared,” she said, as if the very idea were so foreign she didn’t really understand it. “I never felt that way about this baby. Never.”
A little grin tugged at his lips. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Mattie.”
“I love this baby.” Mattie touched her hand lightly to her stomach. “Somehow, I love him already—and I’ve not even met him.”
Jared’s knees weakened. Never more than at this moment had he wanted to take Mattie in his arms. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Love her. Keep her near him forever and always.
He jammed his fingertips in his hip pockets to keep from doing just that.
“This baby keeps me thinking about the future,” Mattie said. “Without him, goodness knows how I might have dwelled on the past, on Del and everything that happened.”
“So you’re really happy about the baby?”
“Oh, of course.” Mattie’s smile faded. “I figured you’d stayed away from the jail on purpose when I brought over the food trays, before I started sending them with Billy.”
Jared shifted from one foot to the other, feeling like an idiot. “Well…”
“I appreciate it. It was wise of you to do that.”
“It was?”
She nodded. “That’s why I had Billy carry the other meals over without me. I needed some time to think about things.”
“And seeing me clouds your thoughts?” Jared’s heart thumped a little faster as he waited for her answer.
“Well…yes.”
“Why? Because you were thinking about me naked?”
Mattie gasped, then burst out laughing, pressing her fingers to her lips. Jared grinned, unable not to.
“You were,” he said. “Don’t try to deny it.” Jared glanced around and saw that they’d attracted some attention. Everyone in town knew their situation. He wasn’t inclined to make Mattie the object of any more gossip, speculation or unsolicited advice from well-meaning townsfolk.
He moved in front of her, sheltering her. “Would you allow me the privilege of walking you home?”
She glanced past him, aware, too, that stares were turning their way. “No, thank you.”
“Are you doing something for supper?” he asked. Usually after church services, families went home to a quiet meal, often inviting friends to join them.
“I’ve got things to take care of at the house,” Mattie said. “The Cottonwood is closed on Sundays.”
“You’re not doing any heavy work, are you?” She shook her head. “No, nothing like that.” Jared didn’t say anything for a moment, hoping—praying, actually—that she’d ask him to come home with her for Sunday supper.
Instead, she shook her head. “I’d better go.”
Mattie was sure she could feel Jared’s gaze on her back as she crossed the churchyard. It warmed her, made her stomach tingle. And while part of her—an ever growing part of her—wanted to ask him to come to supper with her, the rest of her—the ever shrinking logical part of her—knew that she shouldn’t.
Mattie let herself into the house, thinking of the things she needed to do, on her only day away from the restaurant. Silence hung heavily in every room. It was odd not being at the Cottonwood. Mrs. Nance and the few diners who came by were good company. They kept her from thinking too much about things she didn’t want to think about. Things that kept nagging at her.
In her bedroom, Mattie undressed, freeing herself of her bustle, corset and stockings, and slipped into a simple gingham dress. A breeze floated in through the open window
, cooling her bare feet as she straightened the room.
A knock on the door drew her to the front of the house. She opened it and found Jared standing on her porch.
“I figured you wouldn’t have much chance to do any cooking for yourself, so I brought supper for you,” Jared said, lifting a covered basket for her to see.
“Where did you get that?”
“The Silver Bell,” he said. “Besides, I thought you’d like to sample what your competition is doing.”
Cautiously, Mattie lifted the checkered cloth covering the basket. “Oh, my, so much food. I can’t possibly eat that much. Why, it’s enough to feed—”
Mattie steeled herself. “Two people,” she said.
Send him on his way, a little voice somewhere in Mattie shouted. Take the basket, thank him and tell him to leave.
But wait, another voice countered. Don’t make him go. Look at him…just look at him.
She couldn’t resist the temptation to do just that. Jared was a fine-looking man. Mattie knew. She’d seen him naked.
A plume of heat rose in Mattie. Fearful it would color her face, that Jared would see it and somehow guess her thoughts, she stepped back from the door. “You can come in and have supper,” she said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Jared headed straight for the kitchen, hung his hat and gun belt on a peg beside the back door, then unloaded the basket.
“You just sit down and rest,” he said. “I’ll fix supper for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He looked up. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Mattie let him have his way.
After another glance around the kitchen, Jared disappeared down the hallway, then came back carrying her rocker and footstool from the parlor. He placed it near the stove.
“You’ll be more comfortable in this,” he said. “How have you been feeling?”