Читать книгу The Sheriff's Son - Barbara White Daille - Страница 11

In the distance, female voices buzzed like static from the County car’s radio.

Tanner tuned them out. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the notebook into his pocket. His muttered curse would’ve earned him a week’s detention from Mrs. G.

Where had this stubbornness of Sarah’s come from?

For that matter, what had gotten into him, cracking down so hard on her and the boy? Much as he hated to admit it, he knew: the first sight of Sarah had unsettled him.

Turning on his heel, he put his back to the chattering ladies. He could see into her small office, as cluttered as the bookstore.

A two-drawer filing cabinet sat in one corner, books and catalogs spilled across the top. A bulletin board held a haphazard collection of crayoned pictures. Then there was the desk. Neat and clean as a rookie’s uniform the morning of inspection, with papers marching in parade format along the surface. As different from the cluttered bookstore as it could be.

Somehow, the military precision gave him an uneasy feeling.

“Tanner Jones!”

At the sound of his former schoolteacher’s unmistakable voice, he cringed, just like in the old days when she’d caught him shooting spitballs.

Sarah had a point about his schoolboy shenanigans.

But he wasn’t a kid anymore. And the teacher wasn’t scolding him now. He turned around.

“Morning, ladies.” He made his way forward, tipped his Stetson to all, and wrapped his former teacher in a bear hug.

“Hey, Mrs. G.” He drawled the nickname all the boys used for her, though not to her face—not till they’d grown up. She had a real passion for formality in the classroom.

He stepped back again and surveyed the women. “I’m surprised at y’all,” he said, straight-faced. “What’s this I hear about you being involved in illegal bookmaking?”

Everyone laughed. Except Sarah.

“Book discussion, not making, Tanner,” Mrs. G said in her lecturing tone. “Isn’t that right, Sarah?”

“That’s right.”

“But,” the older woman continued, “we were just discussing a different subject. Your sheriff’s car. We saw it outside. It looks a little worse for wear.”

“Sure does.” He looked at Sarah. She stared back, lifting her chin. No sense bringing her boy’s troubles out in the open. Yet.

“But you, Tanner Jones—” Mrs. G held him at arm’s length, inspected him up and down “—you’re a sight for sore eyes, you are.”

He wanted to dig his toe in the dirt. Another flashback to the old days.

“So, you’re with the Sheriff’s Department. That’s good to hear. With Deputy Worth still recuperating from his hernia operation, he’s let things slide a bit. We could use your assistance with a few items.”

“Such as…?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.” Behind her glasses, her eyes gleamed. “We’ll meet this evening at Town Hall,” she said firmly, already in organizational mode. He’d had a Staff Sergeant like her once, in his early years in the army. “You’re available, Tanner?”

“If Sarah’s bringing her pecan loaf, I am,” he blurted. To his own surprise.

The women all turned to him. He shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, y’all know it’s her specialty.”

His mouth watered at the very thought of it. In high school, he’d lived for his Saturday night movie dates with Sarah, their slow walks home afterward, and a slice or three of her pecan loaf to top off the evening.

Everyone nodded and smiled, except the woman of the hour.

“Mrs. Gannett,” Sarah said.

All eyes swiveled in her direction.

“Ah…we wouldn’t want an outsider in on a private meeting, would we?”

He glared. “If it’s something Worth should’ve handled, I’ll be there. Count on it. Pecan loaf or no.”

“Tanner’s right, dear,” Mrs. G said gently. “And besides, he’s not an outsider, he’s one of our own.”

The ladies all beamed at him.

“Now, Sarah,” Mrs. G continued, turning toward her again, “we can count on you, too, can’t we?”

A red flush started from the neck of Sarah’s flower-print dress and spread up to her pale cheeks. “Oh—”

“She’ll show up, Mrs. G.” He shifted, adjusting the belt on his hips. “Sarah’s got a strong interest in what’s happening around this town.”

Over the women’s heads, he stared at her. She glared back, her flashing green eyes seeming to wish him off the face of the earth.

SARAH MARCHED INTO Town Hall with her head held high, a tight smile plastered on her lips, and a platter of warm pecan loaf clutched in her shaking fingers.

After closing the store, she’d just had time enough to run upstairs to make the loaves. Not to please Tanner, of course, but because everyone would expect her to bring them.

She wouldn’t do anything to please that man.

And she’d had to come here tonight. She didn’t trust him not to exaggerate the severity of Kevin’s childish deed.

The object of her wrath stood beside Mrs. Gannett, a good foot-and-a-half taller than the older woman and decked out in all his deputy glory.

Averting her gaze, she headed toward the cloth-covered tables in the rear of the room.

“Hi, Miss Sarah.” One of Kevin’s friends stopped directly in her path. “Where’s Kevin?”

“He’s not allowed out tonight.” She’d left him under the watchful eye of Billy’s mother, with a list of dos—homework—and don’ts—television. She didn’t dare bring him to the meeting. Didn’t want him anywhere near Tanner.

She had enough to worry her. An entire list…

Kevin, the center of her life, who had defaced a car—and a sheriff’s car, at that. The bills that flowed into her mailbox, threatening to drown her. And the beloved bookstore she might soon lose if she didn’t find a way out of her money troubles.

She didn’t need all this added hoopla of a town meeting.

As she set the foil-wrapped platter on the table, she felt someone move in close beside her. A long arm reached around her, and a huge hand plucked at the foil. She shoved the arm aside.

“That’s for later.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

Tanner’s teasing tone sounded so like Kevin’s, she nearly expected to find her son beside her.

“Just a quick look to see if it’s what I’m thinking.” He pulled the foil aside. “Mm-mmm.”

The husky murmur threatened to undo her.

“Great deductive skills, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “You knew you’d find pecan loaf, Tanner. I always brought it everywhere.” She took as much pride in the light response she’d managed as she ever had in her baking.

“Where’s that boy of yours tonight? Leave him home with his daddy?”

“I don’t have a husband,” she said, hoping her terse tone would close the subject. She should’ve known better.

“You’re raising the boy yourself?”

“Yes, I am. Though it’s no business of yours.”

From the front of the room came the pounding of a gavel.

She edged away. “Sounds like Doc’s ready to start. I’ll see you.”

Forcing herself to walk slowly, she headed for the front of the room. She nodded to Charlie Kemper, one of the local ranchers, before taking a first-row seat in front of him. Deliberately, she’d chosen a chair near the wall, as far from Tanner’s sharp gaze as she could get. Yet she could feel the same prickly sensation that used to come over her in class, from grade school right through senior year.

It meant Tanner was watching her.

Beneath the prickliness, she shivered. He’d always seen too much, read her too well, understood too clearly what she was feeling.

Except for that one heart-wrenching night when he didn’t understand anything at all.

At the front of the room, Doc Thompson banged his gavel again. “All right, now, let’s call this meeting to order.”

Gradually the noise in the room faded away, except for the calming hum of the overhead fan.

Then she heard the slap of boots on bare wooden flooring, the rattling of metal, the squeaking of leather. Afraid to turn her head, she looked from the corner of her eye. And saw Tanner sauntering along the front row toward her.

Around her, excited whispering drowned out everything but the rushing of her blood in her ears. Everyone in town knew her and Tanner’s history.

Or most of it, anyway.

When he took the empty seat beside her, she stiffened and ground her teeth together. The gall of the man, when she’d made it plain she didn’t want to sit with him.

“Hey, Tanner, welcome back.” From the row behind them, Charlie Kemper leaned forward.

In the process of shaking Charlie’s hand, Tanner grazed the bare skin of her arm. His touch seemed accidental—harmless?—but that didn’t stop her from choking on her sudden indrawn breath.

“Hey, you okay?”

Full of concern, Tanner turned to her and placed a huge hand on either of her arms. She could have cried.

He had always held her just that way when he meant to kiss her. Years of conditioning sent her eyelids fluttering downward. She caught herself and jerked them open. Pulled herself out of his reach. Those days of sweet kisses had ended long ago.

“I’m fine,” she gasped.

“Sarah,” Doc Thompson called from the front table, “are you needing my services over there?”

She shook her head and coughed. “No, thanks, Doc.”

Shifting in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her cheeks burned.

Tanner’s blue eyes twinkled. Those sea-blue eyes, very like Kevin’s. With Tanner’s so-called deductive ability, how could he have missed noticing the similarity this morning?

What would he do when he finally made the connection? When he finally uncovered the secret she’d spent so many years hiding?

“All right, then,” Doc announced, “we’ve got Deputy Jones here with us, so let’s get this meeting started. The floor’s open for comment,” Doc said. “Who’s first?”

“Me.” Jeb Carter, small and bowlegged in his faded overalls, began shuffling to the front of the room. “I’m concerned about crime in Dillon. I’ve had things turn up missing around my place, like the end of a roll of twine or an empty bushel basket.”

“Can’t blame that on anybody, Jeb,” someone from the audience yelled out. “Not remembering where you put things—shoot, that’s old age.”

Several people laughed.

“I remember well enough,” he argued. “And someone’s leaving pop bottles all over my yard, too. And I don’t drink pop.”

“I think he’s on to something.” Behind them, Charlie Kemper rose. “The hubcaps from my Chevy disappeared.”

“That old car of yours doesn’t run, anyway, Charlie,” the heckler called.

“That don’t make a difference,” Jeb Carter retorted.

“He’s right,” a woman yelled.

And suddenly voices were raised, drowning out Doc’s every effort to calm them. Sarah listened in amazement. She hadn’t known about any of this. While she’d stayed in her beloved bookstore, wrapped up in her own problems, a string of crimes seemed to have plagued Dillon in recent weeks.

Petty, that was the main thing. Nothing they couldn’t handle—and quick.

Because the sooner she and the rest of the towns-folk took care of their troubles, the sooner Deputy Sheriff Tanner Jones could return to his County post.

And the sooner he would be gone from her life.

Again.

THE FOLKS OF Dillon hadn’t changed a bit—any excuse for a potluck. And people had turned out in force tonight.

For a while there, Tanner thought he’d have a revolt on his hands. It had taken some effort to get everyone settled back in their seats, though raised voices still filled the room. Sarah looked shell-shocked.

He turned away. Best to think of her later and, for now, to keep his mind on this meeting.

At the front table, Mrs. G had moved to sit in the empty chair beside Doc Thompson.

He walked to the center of the room. “It sounds as if a petty crime wave is plaguing Dillon. I’ll be looking into this, but I may need some assistance from all of you.”

Doc nodded agreement.

“You’re absolutely right.” Mrs. G stood. “All right, folks,” she announced in her schoolteacher tone. Tanner swallowed his grin. He should’ve let her handle crowd control. “Deputy Jones has offered to help, but he can’t do it all alone. What do you say to a citizen’s watch?”

“I’m game,” Charlie Kemper volunteered.

“Count me in,” someone else added.

“Sounds good, Mrs. G.” Tanner thought a minute. “I’ll be happy to run the committee, Doc, if you’ll co-chair it with me. We need a civilian in charge, too.”

Doc patted his ample stomach and smiled. “Why, sur—”

“Doc’s much too busy,” Mrs. G cut in.

Tanner kept tight hold of his surprise. Interrupt someone in her class way back when, and you’d have gotten your mouth scoured out. “Then, maybe Char—”

“We need someone with a level head.”

Tanner’s jaw dropped when Mrs. G broke in a second time.

“We need someone unbiased,” she continued thoughtfully. “Someone like…Sarah.”

He turned to face her. Sarah raised her chin and stared him down.

A number of loud voices rose in support of her.

He nearly snorted. Unbiased, hell, with her son already caught egg-handed and who knew what else he’d been up to?

“The co-chairs would have to work very closely together,” Mrs. G said from behind him, just under cover of the noise.

He peered at her from over his shoulder. She sat giving him that same wide-eyed, encouraging expression she’d turn his way during the annual school spelling bee. Now, as it always did back then, her look made him put his mind to work.

Co-chairing the committee with Sarah would give him open invitation into her bookstore. And into her life. That way, he’d make sure to keep an eye on that wayward child of hers.

And the other eye on Sarah—not a half-bad idea, seeing as she was on her own again.

He’d given up a lot of things when he’d left Dillon, all those years ago, and not only Sarah’s pecan loaf. But now he was back and ready to find out just what he’d missed.

“Sounds like a fine plan to me.” He grinned. “You agreeable, Sarah?”

Seemed like the whole of Dillon gave up breathing while she thought it over.

After a long while, she stood up and walked to the center of the room to stand in front of Doc.

“I’m willing,” she announced.

“Good.” Maybe she’d finally come to her senses and admitted she needed his help. He shifted his shoulders and stood just a shade taller in his uniform.

Doc slid a clipboard across the table.

Sarah reached for it and held it up high. “Okay, we’ll get a sign-up sheet going here, folks. Anyone who wants to take part in the watch, put your name down, and we’ll get started organizing people into groups tonight.”

“What about eating?” Charlie called, getting a round of laughs.

“Refreshments first,” Tanner replied. “Then whoever’s not planning to sign up for watch can leave.”

Doc rubbed his hands together. “Let’s hit those desserts.”

He and Mrs. G fell into step behind the townsfolk swarming toward the back of the room, leaving him alone with Sarah.

She started away from him, too.

He reached out for her.

She froze and stared at him, so close he could see a tiny nerve flicker in one cheek. So still he could feel a pounding pulse in her wrist.

He scanned her from head to toe. Her eyes, calm and green; her long, uptight braid; her tall, slim but curvy body, dressed in the same flower-print dress she’d worn that afternoon.

Imagination took over and he saw those eyes flashing, that braid loosened, that dress a pile of petals on the floor.

As if she read something in him, she pulled her arm away and stepped back. “We’d best get along to the refreshment table, or you’ll miss out.”

“Nah.” He cleared his throat. “Looks like I’ll be around awhile. You can make me a pecan loaf all to myself.”

“And you can make an appointment with Doc right now. To get some medicine for your delusions.”

Illusions, more likely.

He grinned. “Can’t deny it, Sarah, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Only until we figure out what’s going on around town.” Her eyes flashed for real this time. “So don’t go getting any ideas, Deputy.”