James Strong rose from his slouched position in the chair situated in front of the lawyer’s large oak desk. Moving to block Fred, he silently challenged him. That silence didn’t last long.
“Once a farm boy, always one I see. You’ve got the manners of a clodhopper, Sittig, forcing your way into Amos’s office.”
Fred’s grin had a definite effect on the other man. The banker’s face turned red, and Fred wondered if the man would have a fit or maybe a seizing of his heart.
The older man made a sort of growling sound before shaking a finger in Fred’s face. Due to his lack of height, he had to reach up to do it, ruining much of the effect. Fred’s face tightened as he worked to keep his expression neutral, even with that humorous sight.
“Sheriff, you push your weight around too much. It’s why I stepped up to replace you.” Strong dropped his finger and instead put both hands on his coat to straighten it, a kind of emphasis of his words. “Amos saw reason and called this special election.”
“Yeah, about that election. Why didn’t anyone tell me about it?”
Strong arched an eyebrow and curled his upper lip. “You know about it now, so why are you complaining?”
The man’s superior tone had Fred itching to grab him by his lapels. Good thing for Strong that Fred was a sheriff and wouldn’t become violent. No matter that he’d dealt with plenty of violent men since becoming first a deputy and then sheriff.
For the first time, Amos spoke. “When you became—” His voice cracked and he paused.
Clearing his throat, he tried again. “When I appointed you as sheriff, there was no election. Not after Sheriff Redmond had just been killed.” The mayor reddened.
It crossed Fred’s mind that the man probably was remembering how Redmond was killed and who killed him. To save the banker’s daughter-in-law, Fred had fired the fatal shot. He’d do it again. The sheriff had been a corrupt lawman, one who trapped young women in brothels.
When the sheriff didn’t speak, Mayor Ledbetter continued. “It’s time we had an election to see who the people of Idyll Wood want to see as their sheriff.” Finished speaking, he pulled a white square of linen from his jacket pocket. Wiping his forehead, the mayor moved to his padded desk chair and weakly sank into it.
The banker spoke up then. “You never did find out who was behind the scheme to lure women to Idyll Wood. Countless females abused and you do nothing to discover the mind behind it all.” Strong ended with a tsk.
“Hmmm.” Fred drew out the sound before asking his question. Not for the first time, he considered that the banker might be involved with the white slavery that had happened in this town. “Why does your tone sound like you know more than you’re saying?”
A snort sounded from the older man. “I know Halderson couldn’t have planned it. The hotel owner was smart enough, I suppose. He didn’t have enough ambition to be more than a middle man. Of that, I’m sure.”
The banker tipped his head back and looked up to meet Fred’s gaze. “You can be sure the brains behind the group is still close by. Probably scheming still.”
Looking down on his opponent’s balding head, Fred tapped a finger to his chin. “Care to name names?”
Moving his head abruptly from side to side, Mr. Strong frowned. “I don’t plan to accuse anyone without proof. It’s how I’ll behave when sheriff.”
Mudslinging would get them nowhere. Fred looked beyond the banker to the lawyer. Even though the man seemed to want to disappear, Fred needed an answer from Ledbetter.
Pointing a long, well-shaped finger at the man, Fred’s gaze pinned Ledbetter to his chair. “Want to tell me exactly when this election will happen?”
“Uh, well, that is—”
His stammer irritated the banker. That man gave the mayor a baleful look after cutting him off to answer.
“Saturday, when most people are in town. Better start campaigning.”
For a brief moment, Fred’s mouth gaped. “But today’s Friday!”
An election the next day? Fred’s raised eyebrow brought a cold chuckle from his opponent.
“I plan to hold a rally while the voting is happening. Should be interesting with the town full of country folk since the mayor’s planning to let farmers in the area vote.”
When Fred opened his mouth to speak, Strong held up a hand. “They rely on the sheriff, being the only law close enough to help them.”
Fred nodded solemnly. While that made sense, something didn’t sit right about opening the election to the country folk. His neck itched, something that happened when danger loomed. For the life of him, he couldn’t see how Strong would use that to his advantage. The farmers would vote for Fred. His family was a part of the area farmers, after all.
At the sheriff’s silence, the banker continued. “Nine o’clock, outside your crazy brother’s store.”
The words slapped at Fred like a glove across the face in some old-time duel. “I accept your challenge. I’ll be there Saturday morning for a chance to have my own say while people vote.”
The mayor moaned. Both men threw him a disgusted look before ignoring him. After all, Ledbetter was as harmless as a worm on a fish hook.
Before leaving the office, the banker turned away from the door to glower at Fred. With arms crossed over his round belly, Strong cleared his throat pointedly.
“One more thing I question. How could your brother suddenly recover his wits? I smell a rat, and like the dog sniffing it out, I’ll find out the truth.”
Not waiting for a response, he jerked open the door. Phineas Peters fell into the room, laying at the stunned banker’s feet. Ledbetter only moaned louder in reaction while Fred chuckled loudly.
“Get up boy and move out of my way!” Strong’s words rumbled like a thunder cloud, and the man raised a foot to kick the clerk. Phineas scrambled to his feet while the banker muttered about a lack of confidentiality.
Then he moved through the door. With a slam of the front entrance, he was gone. A cloud of tension remained, even without his presence.
Studying the doorway for a brief moment, Fred turned to the mayor. “You’re his lawyer. Do you know of any unexplained sources of income for the man? Anything that would connect him to the sale of these poor women.”
Ledbetter’s ferret face flashed with a glimmer of speculation. It passed quickly, and the man shook his head. “I can’t betray information about my client.”
The sheriff nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’d a felt free to deny it, I’m sure.”
The mayor only shrugged and harrumphed. “I have work to do. We need to be done with this conversation since I do have to see to my clients.”
Fred plopped his low-crowned hat back on his head and put a finger to its brim in a salute. “Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor. Thank you for your support.”
Ledbetter frowned at the biting words. Otherwise, he didn’t bother to respond and Fred didn’t bother to wait for a reaction. He’d already headed to the office’s front door.
Chapter 4
The Surprise
Three days before, Fred had borrowed Holder’s buggy. With his saddle horse tied to its back, he’d driven it back to town in anticipation of taking Lilah to visit Myra this day. So far, Friday had shaped up to be a miserable day. Fred sent up a prayer that the women’s visit would go better than his experience in the mayor’s office.
Pulling up in front of the neat, white fence that surrounded Lilah’s two-story, sunny-colored home, he smiled. It was a lot like its owner. Cheerful and welcoming. And the gingerbread decorating it was pretty but useless. That also reminded him of the scatterbrained woman. If he’d ever seen her use a lick of common sense he couldn’t remember when.
Securing the buggy’s leathers, he hopped down. Opening the white gate, he walked up the rock path to her door. Before knocking, his eyes were drawn to the porch swing. A light wind set it into motion and, for a moment, he saw himself sitting in it with his arm around delicate female shoulders. A lovely face tipped up to
him, waiting for a kiss. In his fantasy, he realized it was Lilah.
Where did that thought come from? He didn’t even like the girl, just felt sorry for her.
Ignoring the swing, he knocked hard on her front door. When it didn’t open, he knocked again.
The door opened a bit, enough for Lilah’s face to appear. “Please go around to the back door.” Her words were softly whispered.
It had been a while since she’d used anything but her high, chirping voice with him. He blamed surprise for the zing of attraction that raced through him at her soft, husky tone. No way could he imagine being interested in this pest.
The door shut noiselessly, carefully. The movement pricked his curiosity. Here too something was not right today.
Moving down the few porch steps, he followed a stone path around the house to the small back porch. It was covered and was large enough for a couple chairs. He could imagine sitting out there, enjoying his morning coffee as he watched the sun rise.
The thought sent a bolt of fear through him. Why would he dream about this woman’s home?
The spring on the screen door whined as it stretched. He looked away from the horizon to see Lilah holding the back door open to him. She smiled welcomingly, even though she held one finger to her pursed lips.
On the table, he spied the goodies basket she carried around town. Next to it sat an elegant picnic hamper and a bushel basket. Its dirty slats contrasted with the gleaming yellow hamper, making him wonder where she found it. He couldn’t imagine something so old in her new house.
“Do you want me to—”
“Shhhhh!” Her hiss cut into his words, silencing him. The behavior was odd, even for her. He looked around the room in confusion, unable to see any need for quiet.
At his look, she pointed to the bushel basket. A towel covered its top, so he couldn’t see into it. A soft whine came from inside, and then he knew.
She’d gotten a puppy. Actually, that was a wonderful idea. It would be company for her and distract her from pursuing him, maybe.
Lifting the basket, he moved to the door. She held it open for him. Outside he waited on the porch for her. Only a minute or so passed before she joined him, carrying the other two baskets.
March sunshine glinted on her white skin when she raised her face upward and smiled. He watched her joy at the day. Something squeezed in his chest at the sight. Lilah certainly did look pretty with her hair done up in ringlets that hung against her dark blue coat.
Annoyed at his thoughts, Fred stomped to the buggy. A throaty laugh sounded behind him, stiffening his shoulders.
She knew he’d found her attractive. This was part of some game she was playing. He needed to keep that in the front of his mind so he wasn’t lured by her charms. And he did find her charming. Alluring, even.
While he might be annoyed at the situation and her, he remembered his manners. After setting the bushel basket on the floor of the buggy, he took the others from her. Stowing them in the box attached behind the buggy’s body, he returned to her side.
Wordlessly, he held out his hand. She took it with pink cheeks. Her hands were gloved. Still, he felt a tingle of awareness as he helped her into the buggy.
Strange! Could this day get any more odd?
And then he heard it. Not the whine or small woof he expected from the puppy. It let out a weak cry, like he’d heard from Holder’s babies.
Babies! She had a baby in the bushel basket. Where did she get a baby?
Lilah watched Fred’s mouth gape when the infant mewled out its unhappiness. She didn’t know quite what it needed. That didn’t stop her from pulling back the towel to look into its basket.
Small and very red, the baby’s head was bald and its limbs were very thin. Lilah had never held a baby. She didn’t know if this one had been starved or if they all looked this way.
Since Fred’s sister-in-law had a small baby, Lilah hoped she could get the needed answers from her. After all, she would need some instruction to care for the infant.
Looking up from the basket, Lilah struggled to keep her high, girlish voice quiet enough not to alarm the baby. After all, she was sure people had to whisper around a baby. She’d visited a married former classmate once. The woman had met her at the door with a finger to her lips, cautioning to be quiet for the baby.
So she softly chirped, “What do you think that baby wants?”
His jaw clenched as he stared at her. Looking down at the baby, he shook his head. “What’d you go get one if you don’t know how to take care of it?”
Her chirp turned angry at that remark, like a blue jay blasting a cat that had been in her nest. “You think I went to your brother’s store and ordered up a bag of flour and, ‘Oh, add a baby to that order, please.’”
Stupidly, he ignored the trap. Fred’s head bobbed, agreeing with her silly statement. Mostly, he hoped that it would give her a dislike of him.
His hope burst at her shrill words. “Well, that just goes to show how gullible you are, Mr. Sheriff. You definitely need a wife to take care of you.”
Fred wanted to press his hands over his ears. Her voice was making him crazy. Why she insisted on using it heaven only knew. He’d heard her real voice, low and sultry. He much preferred that throaty sound. If he didn’t think it would encourage her, he’d tell her that, too.
Since she’d been whispering, before her last remark, he followed that pattern. It made the chirps tolerable.
“So, if there’s a baby in the bushel basket, is there a puppy in the picnic hamper?” A chuckle lay under his words as he poked at her a bit.
“No, definitely not. I have all I can do to care for one baby, not two.”
Her look of horror drew the chuckle from Fred. The complaining baby flinched and screamed its distress. He waited for Lilah to cradle the little body.
When Lilah didn’t pick up the baby, only stared stupidly down at it, he made his suggestion. “The baby needs to be cradled. You hold it close to you and comfort it.”
He watched her reach a hand under the newborn. When she pulled it away quickly, he scowled. “Go on. It needs to be cuddled.”
For once the chirp was gone as she whined, “It’s very wet. I don’t want to touch it.”
Snorting, Fred wagged a finger at her. “Then you need to change it.” He exhaled, long and noisily, through pursed lips. “I can’t believe we’re calling the baby it. Babies are he or she. So which is it?”
Lilah wrung her hands and shrugged. “I don’t know. The note didn’t say.”
Ignoring the bit about a note, he searched for a safe spot on the side of the road. With the spring thaw, mud abounded and he didn’t want to become stuck on the side of the road. Satisfied, he stopped the buggy on a grassy area and secured the buggy ribbons. His saddle horse gave a curious nicker but stopped along with the vehicle.
With widened eyes, Lilah wrung her hands faster. “Why are we stopping?”
Knowing it wasn’t nice to tease when she obviously felt distress, Fred still couldn’t resist. “It’s a beautiful spring day and this is the perfect spot for a little kissing.”
With a gasp, she wiggled into the corner of the buggy before squeaking out, “I think we’d best take care of that baby first.”
He felt the dimple appear in his cheek as a broad smile slipped past his control. “I’m teasing.” He reached toward the basket. “give me a clean diaper and I’ll take care of the little one.”
She eased closer to him and shook her head. “I don’t have any diapers. Anything it came with is in the basket, already as wet as the baby, I’d guess.”
Fred groaned, his hands stopping before he picked up the baby. “Friday is not getting any better.”
Lilah blinked rapidly at his comment before she wrinkled her nose. “What does the day of the week have to do with a wet baby?”
Not answering, Fred pointed to the linen at her feet. “Give me that towel you had over the basket.” When she didn’t move toward it, he added, “Please.�
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Eyes twinkling, she grabbed it quickly. Handing it over, she muttered words that seemed inane to him. “I wonder how we’ll find out if it’s a boy or girl.”
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Fred pulled all the linens away from the infant. “Watch when I pick it up. If it doesn’t look like yourself, you know it’s a boy.”
She nodded solemnly, hands clenched together. “Which do you want, a boy or a girl?”
Her chirp had returned. That along with her silly talk made him frown and flinch. He didn’t bother to answer her. After all, this wasn’t their baby so why did it matter.
Their baby. Why did he think of that? They’d never have a baby together.
Shoving aside the thought, he focused on the wet, cold child. With a hand under its head and another under the bottom, he raised the little girl out of her basket.
“A girl. I wanted a girl. Badly. I just didn’t want to disappoint you since most men want sons.”
He had a terrible feeling that Lilah was playing house in her mind. Well, he hadn’t agreed to be the daddy in her game. Somehow, he needed to bring the woman back to reality.
“Stop talking foolishness and give me that towel. This little one’s shivering. Newborns don’t do well if they take a chill.”
The stars in her eyes faded as she moved purposefully, Lilah handed him the towel before looking around her. She rose and lifted her skirts. He watched her step onto the wheel of the buggy before jumping to the ground.
Ignoring her then, he stared down at the tiny, whimpering girl. “Let’s get you diapered. It doesn’t seem like you’ve got the energy to even cry.” Fred shook his head, wondering when the little sweetie ate last. Even red and wrinkled, she promised to be a beauty someday. Her little mouth pursed like a deep pink rose bud and her wide eyes stared up at him, amazingly alert for such a young infant.
Folding the towel, he did his best to tie it around her. “Well, little blossom, let’s try to get you warm.” Opening his coat, he tucked the baby next to his chest and pulled the garment around her.
Wistful in Wisconsin Page 4