Wendy Lindstrom

by Kissing in the Dark

  Adam lowered his chin. “Yes, sir.”

  Iris strode into the stone room and flirtatiously brushed dust off Duke’s shirtsleeve. “Finished already?” she asked.

  Her boldness surprised him as much as her appearance had, and it seemed to fluster Faith who had followed her into the room. “I just need to light the burner and I’ll be done here.” He’d traveled some during his years as sheriff, but had never seen anyone like Iris, or any woman as beautiful as Faith.

  Iris clasped her hands in front of her. “Let us repay you by sending a few herbs home to your mother. Or perhaps you’d rather choose a few for yourself? We grow special herbs for men,” she said with a saucy wink. “Ginseng and passionflower—”

  “Basil!” Faith blurted, crowding Iris away from him. “We grow basil and valerian and aconite.” Pink stained her cheeks, but she didn’t spare Iris a glance. “We grow healing herbs like comfrey, chamomile, feverfew; that sort of thing. But your mother would probably prefer cooking herbs like chives, basil, or bay leaf.”

  “I wouldn’t know one from the other,” Duke said, looking through the doorway at the rows of flats covering the greenhouse, “but I’d like to look around.” And he would enjoy the pretty widow’s fetching blushes while he found out a little more about her unusual business.

  “Clean your hands and wait out front, Adam,” Faith said. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

  After Duke lit the burners for the tub and boiler, he stepped into the greenhouse with Faith.

  “This is comfrey,” she said, lifting a large, hairy leaf on a plant about three feet tall. She stroked her fingertip over a purple bell-shaped flower adorning the plant, and it sent a ripple of warmth down Duke’s spine. He hadn’t felt the stroke of a woman’s fingers across his flesh in a very long time. His choice. He had friends who would welcome an intimate visit from him; but after years of watching his brothers flirt and joke with their wives, he just couldn’t stomach the hollow feeling that followed him home after a late-night visit to one of his lady friends.

  “We use the root in tea to help reduce inflammation and to heal broken bones,” Faith said. She moved to a neighboring plant about a foot tall with strap-like leaves that she didn’t touch. “This is autumn crocus. The seeds are used to treat gout and rheumatism, but all parts of the plant are poisonous.”

  Alarm bells went off in his head. “Then why would you give it to a person? Aren’t you afraid of accidentally killing somebody?”

  She faced him squarely. “I know my herbs, Sheriff Grayson. I have over one hundred varieties in my greenhouse, thirty of which are highly toxic but of immense value. I know how to use them for safe and effective treatments of minor ailments, but I don’t pretend to be a doctor.”

  He watched Cora dump a bucket of soil into a mound on the greenhouse floor, and his gut tightened with worry. “Aren’t you afraid to have these poisonous plants around your daughter?”

  Instead of answering, she lifted her slender fingers and beckoned Cora. The child leapt to her feet and ran to her side.

  “Sheriff Grayson wants to see our dangerous plants, Cora. Will you show him which herbs are poisonous?”

  “That’s aloe,” the child said, pointing to a green plant with long, tapering stems that reached up from the soil like grasping fingers.

  Duke reached out to touch the fleshy stems, but Cora pushed his hand away.

  “Don’t ever touch them!” she said dramatically. “You could get poison on your fingers and rub it in your eyes and go blind. Or you could get it in your mouth and die.”

  “I didn’t realize aloe was poisonous.”

  “It’s good for healing burns and minor wounds,” Faith said, “but it’s a violent purge if you ingest it. To Cora, anything that could hurt her is off limits. That means no touching.”

  Duke nodded, then gave Cora a little bow. “Thank you for protecting me.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, so sincerely that Duke bit his lip to stop a grin. “I’ll show you more, but you can’t touch them.”

  “I won’t,” he promised, then followed the little imp as she dashed from one dangerous plant to the next. “How do you know which ones are bad?”

  She pointed to a red ribbon tied to a stick in the corner of the flat where the herb was planted. “Mama marks them with a bright cloth. That’s foxglove, and ifs very bad because it’s marked with red.”

  “What if somebody came in here and stole all your ribbons?” he asked, hoping his question wouldn’t offend Faith, who stood protectively beside her daughter. “How would you know the good plants from the bad plants?”

  Cora wrinkled her nose as if he were a pitifully stupid man. “I would look at their leaves or their flowers.”

  “What if someone like me came in and got confused? I don’t know much about plants. What if I can’t tell if it’s foxglove or a snapdragon?”

  “Then don’t touch it.”

  He laughed at her refreshingly honest and simple answer. Faith’s lips twitched, but she didn’t gloat. “Since you’re such a smart lady,” he said to Cora, “perhaps you can tell me the name of that plant over there with the blue eyes and brown handkerchief that’s watching us.”

  The little girl pivoted on her heels and looked behind her. “That’s not a plant!” she said with a giggle. “That’s my aunt Tansy hiding behind the fennel.”

  “Oh,” he said in a whisper. “Why is she hiding from us?”

  “Because she don’t like you.”

  “Cora!” Faith gasped and laughed at the same time, blushing dark pink as she spoke to Duke. “I believe your badge has made Aunt Tansy wary.” She turned and gestured for the woman to come out.

  Tansy stepped into the row and offered a nervous smile. Her hands flitted to her throat, and Duke thought of a butterfly. She’d tied her kerchief on her head, leaving the tail ends sticking up like antennae, and she seemed breathless and alert, as if the slightest move would make her fly away.

  “Good morning,” he said with a polite nod.

  Her vivid blue gaze flitted from him to Cora to Faith as if searching for a place to land.

  “Aunt Tansy, this is Sheriff Grayson,” Faith said, but he sensed her reservation in introducing them.

  “G-good mornin’, Sheriff.” Her soft southern drawl surprised him. He would guess the blonde to be in her forties, but he could never tell with women because they were sneaky about concealing their age with face creams and hair dyes. But no herb or balm could change Tansy’s demure southern drawl or camouflage Iris’s dramatic Oriental looks.

  Faith’s aunts could not be related.

  Faith tapped her palm against a bushy green plant that looked like a weed to him. “You may as well come out, too, Aunt Dahlia.”

  To his surprise, another woman with red pouty lips stepped from behind the bush. She looked Tansy’s age, but was shorter and more buxom, her hair and eyes dark brown. Maybe this one was related to Faith, but not the other two.

  “Hello, Sheriff.” Dahlia bobbed her head. “Iris was right about you being handsome,” she said, then surprised him further by reaching behind the bush and tugging a fourth woman into sight. “This is Aster,” she said.

  There was no doubt that Aster was the oldest, and she had the air of one in charge. Though she was Faith’s height, she had white hair, a solid build, and wide shoulders. She stood like a soldier and met his eyes without a shred of shame that she’d been caught peeking at him. “We’re glad you stopped by, Sheriff. It’s good to know our niece has a man to depend on.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake!” Faith scowled at the women and slipped her hand into the crook of Duke’s elbow. “My aunts will take up your entire day if you don’t escape now.” She pressed her lips together and steered him to the front corner of the greenhouse, where she’d set up a counter and shelves to make a small store of sorts. “Don’t forget your balm,’ she said, snagging the jar off the counter as they passed. She thrust it into his hand, then hurried them outside to where Adam wai
ted in the warm sunshine.

  “How can those women be your aunts?” Duke asked, wanting to hear her explain it to his satisfaction.

  “I used to ask my mother the same thing,” Faith replied brightly, “but she assured me they were.” She pushed the hair out of Adam’s eyes, putting an end to the discussion if not Duke’s suspicion. “Come straight home from the store,” she said to the boy. “You need a haircut. And don’t forget my cheesecloth this time.”

  He lowered his chin. “I won’t.”

  Faith turned a warm smile on Duke that made him wish they were spending the evening together. But she’d dodged his question and he wanted an answer. She spoke before he could pursue it, however.

  “Thank you for your kindness today, Sheriff. Please let me know how else I can repay you.”

  She could pay him with a kiss from her pretty pink lips, which had been distracting him for the last half hour. Her lashes swooped down to cover her eyes, as if she knew where his mind had wandered.

  He hooked his thumb in his gun belt, reminding himself he was here on business. “If this balm relieves the ache in my shoulder, I’ll be in your debt, Mrs. Wilkins. I’ll let you know how well it works.” He wanted her to know that he would be back, that he would be watching her, and that he was interested in more than her business.

  “Consider it an even exchange, Sheriff.” She kept her smile in place, but his gut insisted there was something secretive about her, something odd about her business and her aunts.

  Maybe the boy could answer some of his questions. He clapped his hand on Adam’s shoulder and turned the boy toward town. “Well, young man, let’s go settle your debt with Mrs. Brown.”

  o0o

  The minute the two males were gone, Faith rushed into the greenhouse. Her aunts were gathered near a flat of peppermint-scented geraniums, tittering and whispering. She didn’t even want to imagine what they were talking about, but their outrageous behavior must stop before the sheriff guessed the truth about them—and herself.

  She made sure Cora was occupied with her pail and hand spade and safely out of earshot before she confronted her aunts. “What were you ladies thinking?” she asked, certain they had just forfeited their one chance to build a safe and decent life for themselves.

  “That the sheriff is the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” Tansy said, placing her long, artist’s fingers over her heart.

  “The sheriff isn’t interested in a woman ten years his senior,” Aster countered in her blunt fashion.

  Faith gritted her teeth. “The only thing the sheriff will be interested in is evicting us from his town.”

  “The sheriff loved our flirting,” Iris said.

  “Well, I didn’t. I was terrified one of you would go too far and—” She bit her lip to stop her rush of words, but tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Oh, dahlin’, don’t do that.” Tansy grasped Faith’s hands. “There’s no need to worry.”

  “This is our only chance,” Faith whispered, choked by her emotions. “We have to be careful not to tarnish our reputations.”

  “We know that, child.” Tansy parked her hand on her narrow waist. “We only teased the sheriff a bit.” She nodded toward the corner where Cora was plowing a stick through soil. “Not one of us will do a single thing to ruin that little girl’s future.”

  Her aunts adored Cora and Adam, and Faith wanted to believe they would behave themselves, but she feared the women had spent too many years working in a brothel to be able to conform to polite society.

  “Faith, you were so tense you were making the sheriff suspicious.” Iris grinned with satisfaction. “I just flirted a bit to get him to hook up the gas line.”

  “I could have hired a man to do that.”

  “With what?” Iris asked. “We each contributed every penny we owned to make the move to Fredonia and set up our business. Other than the few coins in your jar, not one of us has a penny to our name.”

  “All the more reason for us to mind our manners and present ourselves as decent, respectable women,” Faith insisted.

  “Being respectable isn’t going to put food on our table. The only way we’re going to eat this week,” Iris said, “is to get some paying customers into that bathtub.”

  “No.” Faith pressed her palms to her nervous stomach. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to open a bath.”

  “Selling herbs won’t earn enough to feed us,” Iris insisted. “Our stock in trade is our ability to make men feel good.”

  “That’s exactly what worries me! You know what people will think when they hear we’re giving herbal baths and massages.”

  “My growling stomach doesn’t much care,” Aster said, her white eyebrows dipped in a scowl. “I vote for Iris’s plan.”

  “Me, too.” Dahlia patted the small paunch beneath her large breasts. “Maybe we weren’t respected while working at the brothel, but at least we ate well.”

  Tansy nodded. “What harm can come of giving herbal baths, as long as our patrons wear bathing garments and we don’t give any massages in private?”

  “The harm is that one false move, or one nasty rumor, could tear our reputations to shreds, and it’s a risk we can’t afford to take,” Faith said. “We’ve only been here three weeks. Let’s wait a while and see how we do selling herbs.”

  “We could afford to wait if one of us had a husband who could provide for us.” Iris arched one ebony eyebrow at Faith. “Maybe you should have flirted with the sheriff.”

  “He wouldn’t want a woman like me.”

  A sly smile tipped Iris’s lips. “Oh, he wants you.”

  Faith heaved an exasperated sigh. “I meant that he wouldn’t want to marry a woman with my past.”

  “None of us will get a marriage proposal if we don’t get some men in the door,” Dahlia said. “Believe me, Faith, they won’t come to buy herbs. The only way to get male patrons is to make them feel good.”

  “And in turn,” Iris added, “they will make us feel good, which is my first requirement. The second is that the man is handsome. The third is that he’s—”

  “Who cares about feeling good?” Aster asked. “I’d be happy with a man who has money and a comfortable home.”

  Tansy hugged her arms to her waist. “I would love to hear a man sing again.”

  “Bah.” Dahlia patted her buxom cleavage. “Give me a man who’s willing to put his money right here, and I’d spend an hour or two with him.”

  Faith threw up her hands and stared at the women. “You are incorrigible! You’re all addicted to men.”

  “Not addicted,” Aster said, “just in need. We need money, and we can only get it from the men in town. Without that bath, we’re going to starve.” Aster widened her stance and crossed her arms over her chest. “When was the last time we ate a decent meal?”

  It had been at least a month. The week before they left Syracuse they had barely slept, much less eaten a decent meal. But their goal had been to stay alive and to get out of town before Judge Stone returned and stripped them of everything they owned. Faith and her aunts had pooled their money and hired a local livery owner to secretly transport the contents of their greenhouse to Fredonia. In addition to paying his enormous fee, Faith had to buy the grist mill and pay a carpenter to install the huge windows in the first floor. They were broke, out of food, and out of options.

  “All right,” she said, heaving a defeated sigh. “I suppose we have no other choice. But you four must promise to be on your best behavior.”

  “Fine,” Iris said, “but don’t you forget your part of our bargain. You promised to use your pretty face to get a marriage proposal from a man who can protect us from Judge Stone.”

  “Surely you don’t expect me to marry one of those men who proposed to me?” Faith shuddered, remembering the rangy, leather-faced man who’d caught her in the yard while they were first moving plants into the greenhouse. He had kindly carried in several flats of herbs, but he was twice her age and dense as a brick. A yo
ung store owner had offered her credit if she would allow him to court her, but his intense interest in the bodice of her dress sent her from the store empty-handed.

  “Dahlin’, I wouldn’t let you cross the street with either of those men,” Tansy said, “but I’d push you straight into the marriage bed with that handsome sheriff.”

  “Are you insane? The last person I want snooping around here is a lawman.”

  “But who better to have defending our lives than the sheriff?” Iris gave her a bold wink. “Can you imagine having a man like him in your bed?”

  Yes, she could. In one short visit she’d noticed too much about the handsome sheriff. He was a take-charge man, a man in control of himself, a sharp-eyed investigator aware of everything around him. His dark eyes had sized her up within seconds of their introduction. His smile said he liked what he saw, but she sensed a fierce resolve in him that scared her to death.

  Chapter 4

  Adam was glad the sheriff had hooked up the gas line for them, but the man should have kept his big mouth shut: He should have put Adam in jail, or let him pay his debt privately instead of upsetting Faith.

  As they headed toward Water Street, Adam stole glances at him. The sheriff’s hands were huge, with big knuckles that could knock a person’s teeth out with one punch. Adam’s own knobby, long-fingered hands would never be as big or strong as the sheriff’s. The man was a giant. His arms bulged with so much muscle they were bigger around than Adam’s legs.

  “I’ll drop this at my office before we visit Mrs. Brown,” the sheriff said, lifting the jar of balm that Faith had given him.

  Adam didn’t know if the sheriff might throw it out, but it had taken a long time and a lot of work for him and Faith to make that balm. If the sheriff was just going to waste it, he was going to ask for it back. “You should use it, sir.”

  “You think it will help then?”

  Adam nodded. “The salicin and herbs work good on sore muscles.”

  “So you know a bit about herbs?”

  “Yes, sir.” Adam lengthened his stride, but was unable to match the sheriff’s long gait. “I know almost as much as Faith does. She’s been teaching me since I was Cora’s age.”