Читать книгу His Pregnant Courthouse Bride - Rachel Lee - Страница 9

Chapter Two

Amber had headed to bed right after the cocoa. Wyatt had brought her suitcases in and showed her to the best guest room, then returned to his work before going to bed himself.

Last night had been uncomfortable, he thought as he made coffee in the morning and scrambled some eggs. They hadn’t talked at all, except superficially and briefly about her trip, about the room that was to be hers. Strangers. It felt like two strangers. He hadn’t really anticipated that. In his mind their friendship had remained as fresh as yesterday. Emails and other contacts didn’t quite bridge the years. Nor did it help his sense of awkwardness to discover that he still found her every bit as attractive as he ever had.

But he was worried about her, too. The stress of the past weeks had clearly worked on her. He’d expected her to look a bit older than she had when he’d run into her at that conference four years ago, but not this pinched and drained. Worn. Her situation was awful, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised.

He paused, looking out the window over the sink, noting that the wind was still blowing and leaves were still flying. By now, he thought with mild amusement, all the leaves in town should have been gone. But as he watched some of them eddy between the houses, he guessed they would hang around to be raked.

He heard steps behind him and turned to greet Amber. She looked a bit better this morning and was already dressed as if she were going to work in a navy blue pantsuit and white blouse. A bit much for hanging around the house.

“Well, good morning,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back. “Sorry I was so dead last night.”

“Long trip,” he said. “Eggs? Toast? Coffee?”

“All of the above, please.” She settled onto a stool on the far side of the island. “You have to work today, of course.”

“I cleared most of my schedule for the week,” he answered, turning back to the counter and cracking two more eggs into a bowl to whisk. “A few hours each day, rather than all day. Some hearings I can’t avoid, and a trial that’ll probably be over in a couple of hours after we finish jury selection.”

“Can I come watch?”

“Of course.” If she were in the courtroom with him, at least he wouldn’t be wondering if she were sitting here feeling like hell and unable to do a damn thing about it.

He gave her a cup of coffee and the eggs he’d already cooked. “Dig in.”

He started making his own eggs and heard her say, “You didn’t have to clear your schedule for me.”

“No, but I did anyway. You could have gone anywhere if solitude and four walls were all you wanted.”

He was pleased to hear a quiet laugh from her. “Sadly true,” she answered.

A minute later he carried his own plate and mug to the island and stood on the far side from her. “It’s okay, Amber,” he said before he started eating. “You’re welcome here and we’ll get over the awkwardness soon.”

“I didn’t expect it,” she admitted. “In some ways I felt as if all these years hadn’t passed.”

“In some ways they haven’t.” He sipped his coffee. “But even back then we didn’t share quarters.”

That drew another laugh from her, a small one.

“Look, this place is practically a hotel. Just do whatever you need to in order to feel comfortable. Spend as much time or as little as you want with me. Make your own ground rules. I’m pretty adaptable.”

She raised her face to smile at him. “Generous, too. Most of the problem is me, Wyatt. Everything is all messed up. Blown up. I feel as if I’m in a million pieces right now.”

“Hardly surprising. You want to talk some more?”

“Maybe after court. You must need to go soon.”

He glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. “Fifteen minutes. Can you be ready?”

“I am ready. But don’t you need time to change?”

Wyatt looked down at his jeans and polo shirt. “No.”

“Wow,” Amber breathed. “I might like this place.”

“Well, I do wear a robe. Most of the time.”

The sound of the laughter that pealed out of her warmed his heart. If she could still laugh like that, then everything would be okay. For her.

Because suddenly, for him, he wasn’t so sure. An attractive damsel in distress. Always his weak point, and more so for Amber.

* * *

The day was chilly and the wind whipped with ferocity. Amber almost felt like ducking as they left the house and walked to his car in the driveway. “Is this wind usual?” she asked once they were in the car.

“No. Usually we have a breeze, nothing bad, although it can get to be pretty constant if you get out onto the prairie. But here...” He shook his head as he turned over the ignition. “Some kind of front must be in the area, but I haven’t looked at the weather.”

“I was getting used to the wind in Chicago. I don’t think it ever stops. But this is pretty with the leaves tossing in the wind.”

“Until it comes time to rake,” he answered.

“Will there be anything left?” she wondered as he wove their way down the street toward where she presumed they’d find the courthouse.

It was only a few blocks away, and she was instantly charmed. She’d half expected some functional building that had been erected recently, but instead saw a gorgeous older redbrick building with impressive columns sitting in a square filled with concrete benches and tables and the remains of summer flowers. And the statue of a soldier, watching over it all.

“Did they transplant this from New England?” she asked, amazed.

“The folks who built it wanted something to remind them of home, I guess. We have a church that looks like it was snatched out of the jaws of Vermont, too.”

Amber was charmed. It might not be a large town, but what she had seen of it so far was gracious and inviting. Wyatt pulled around to the back of the courthouse and into a parking space labeled with his name: Hon. Wyatt Carter. Some of the other spaces had filled up, but they were all reserved—county attorney, court reporter and others.

“We finally emerged into the new century,” he remarked after they climbed out and headed for the back door.

“Meaning?”

“We had to build a new jail outside town. It wasn’t so long ago prisoners were kept in cells over the sheriff’s office, but six cells is just about enough to dry out the drunks overnight. So...big jail. And I do a lot of my hearings over closed-circuit TV. No big deal to you, I’m sure, but it was a very big deal when we transitioned here.”

She could almost imagine it. In a very short space of time he’d given her the feeling that this was an old Western town stepping very slowly into the modern era. She looked around just before he opened the door for her and saw that the entire square was surrounded by stores. She liked it.

She followed him into a narrow hallway painted institutional green with wood floors that creaked beneath their feet. They passed restrooms, the rear side of the county clerk’s office, then climbed some equally creaky stairs to the second floor, where they entered his chambers.

The walls in the outer office were lined with books of statutes, something that must be left over from earlier days, she decided. Everyone relied on online research these days, and law libraries were available at the touch of a key if you had a subscription. They’d certainly done that in law school. But she looked around the walls, admiring the books, their solid look and feel. Two desks sat in the middle of all this magnificence.

“My reporter and clerk work there,” he said.

Then they passed through to a chamber that was all dark wood, a massive desk and a few chairs. She thought she could detect old aromas of cigar smoke embedded in the walls. The only modernity was a multiple line phone and a computer.

“My home away from home,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes. Do you want to stay here or go into the courtroom?”

She’d been in a judge’s chambers before, of course. It was inevitable for a lawyer. It didn’t look like a place to browse, and she’d come to see him in court anyway.

“Courtroom,” she answered decisively. A kind of tickled excitement awoke in her. She was going to see her old friend in the role of a judge. It was just cool enough to make her forget her other problems.

She walked through the door he pointed out and emerged in the courtroom, walking past the raised bench and past the attorney’s tables, which were already occupied, ignoring the curious looks as she took a seat in the front row. She had no idea what was on his docket for today or whether the people waiting in the gallery with her were here to deal with legal problems or just to watch, but the place was filling rapidly. The clock slipped past eight, almost as a courtesy to late arrivals, then a bailiff, in what appeared to be a deputy’s uniform, called the court to order and announced Wyatt. “All rise. The Tenth District Circuit Court of the state of Wyoming is now in session, the Honorable Wyatt Carter presiding.”

He came striding in, wearing a black robe, his jeans and boots flashing beneath it. She had to cover her mouth with her hand. She hadn’t expected to enjoy this so much.

Wyatt tapped the microphone in front of him, and the thump came across the speakers. “All right,” he said, looking out over the room. “Traffic court. Really, folks, don’t you know better?”

And thus it began.

* * *

Amber was soon amazed. Wyatt didn’t treat most of these people as if he just wanted them to pass out of his sight as soon as possible. He actually talked to them, and when he deemed it appropriate, he asked questions. He even postponed a few cases when the charges were serious and the accused claimed to be unable to afford an attorney. He promptly assigned them to the public defender on the spot.

“This is the second time you’ve come before this court for not having a driver’s license,” he said to a thirtysomething man in work clothes. “Didn’t I order you to get a license last time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So why are you still driving without one?”

The man shuffled his feet. “I need to go to work.”

Wyatt leaned back a little and studied the notes on his desk. “It says here you can’t read. The state has an application for people who can’t read. Why didn’t you get one?”

“I tried.”

At that Wyatt leaned forward. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I work at the ranches. Hired hand.”

“No reading required for that, I suppose.”

“No, sir.”

“So why didn’t you get a license?”

“I keep calling but they’re busy. I can’t even talk to someone. Always busy.”

Wyatt turned to the clerk. “You get me the license people and you get this man an appointment with them before this day is over.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Wyatt turned back to the man in front of him. “Will you go to the test when my clerk tells you the time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’d better. And I’m suspending your case pending your getting that license. Crap, can’t get through?” He turned to the clerk again. “Let ’em know I’m not happy about this.”

The clerk almost grinned. “Absolutely.”

He looked at the man. “You stay here until she gets your appointment. And you’d better find somebody to drive you home, because you cannot drive without a license and I don’t want to see you here again. Understood?”

Amber was amazed. Wyatt took a lot of personal interest, sometimes waiving fines when people simply couldn’t pay them. But again and again, when something caught his attention, he zoomed in.

Then came the guy who was in front of him for the second time for driving on a suspended license.

“I told you to stop driving,” Wyatt said. “What makes you think you can ignore the law like this? Your license was suspended for DUI. Now you’re in front of me again for driving when you’re not allowed to?”

The amusing part came after Wyatt ruled, telling the guy that the next time he was going to jail and was being spared this time only because he had small children to support. Then he added, “I’m leaving here in another few minutes, so you’d better find someone to drive you home. Because I’ll recognize your face now and I’ll chase you down and arrest you myself. Got it?”

Amber had never guessed that traffic court could be so fascinating and even moving. And Wyatt broke the mold.

* * *

Amber waited in the court after everyone had departed. She didn’t feel free to just walk back into Wyatt’s chambers. He might be dealing with something that was none of her business, or he might just be busy. She only waited about twenty minutes, though, before he entered the courtroom again, this time wearing his jacket and no robe and carrying a briefcase. “Free for the rest of the day,” he said with a smile. “Do you want to go home or would you rather go down the block to the diner with excellent food and service that never comes with a smile?”

That surprised a little laugh from her. “Really?”

“Maude and her daughter are the local gorgons, but the food more than makes up for it.”

“Then by all means the diner.”

“Let’s walk,” he suggested, and this time they exited the courthouse by the grand front entrance. “I think these places were built to impress and intimidate,” he said as they walked down the wide marble steps.

“I think you’re right. It’s a beautiful building.”

“That it is. And you see the stone benches and tables scattered in the little park? When the weather allows we have people at nearly every one of them playing chess or checkers.” He pointed. “Over there is the sheriff’s office.”

It looked like a regular storefront, which surprised her. “No Corinthian columns for him?”

Wyatt laughed. “None. They used to be in the courthouse basement a couple of generations ago, but then they needed more room and were getting squeezed out by the records and clerks. So they took up one side of the street there, and their offices run back inside behind the storefronts. Bigger than it looks from out here.”

They crossed Main, which was right in front of the courthouse, to a side street where he pointed out other shops to her, one of them a craft shop in a house a little way past the diner, a dentist’s office, a dress store, a bail bondsman and a couple of lawyers, one of them with the name Carter painted in gold letters on the window.

“Your father?” she asked.

“The same.”

“So you practiced there for a while?”

“Yup.” Then into the diner, which was quite busy. She couldn’t miss the silence that fell suddenly as she walked in with Wyatt and felt like a bug under a microscope.

“Ignore it,” he said under his breath. “They’re just curious. Something new to talk about.”

She hadn’t considered that possibility. Being the subject of talk wasn’t something she wanted, but then she reminded herself that she was only visiting. A week, two weeks, whatever, but eventually she was going to have to figure out the next path she needed to walk. And after what had happened in Chicago, she figured large law firms were off her list for some time. People gossiped there, too, and that gossip spread. For her it would be the kind of gossip that would make another firm leery of hiring her.

All of a sudden a man in a sheriff’s uniform stood before them. He had a burn-scarred face and a gravelly voice. “Hey, Wyatt, we were just leaving. Take our booth.”

Wyatt smiled and held out his hand to shake the other man’s. “Amber, this is Gage Dalton, our sheriff. Gage, a lawyer friend of mine from Chicago, Amber Towers.”

Gage’s crooked smile was friendly as he shook Amber’s hand. “Welcome to Conard City, Ms. Towers. If you decide you want to get out of town and visit a ranch, let me know. I’ve got several deputies who’d be glad to oblige. Or you can take a trail ride.” He laughed. “Whole bunches of things to do, if you know where to look.”

She met three more deputies as they departed, one of them a woman who had the same last name as a much older man with a Native American face. They didn’t at all resemble each other, which raised her curiosity.

“The two named Parish,” she began after they sat and the table had been cleared by a scowling woman.

“Micah Parish and his daughter-in-law, Connie.”

Well, that explained a lot. “Family business, law enforcement?”

Wyatt flashed a grin. “Not exactly. Micah has a ranch, too, and his son, Ethan, left the sheriff’s department to help out there. Unfortunately, I think we’re going to see Micah retire before long. It’ll be the end of an era.”

“Meaning?”

Coffee cups slammed down in front of them and were filled by an older version of the woman who had cleared the table. Looking up at that face, Amber almost hesitated. But then she plunged in. “I can’t drink much coffee. Could I please have milk instead?”

She was answered with a grunt as the menus slapped onto the table.

“Was that a yes?” Amber asked Wyatt quietly as the woman stomped away.

“Mavis or Maude will bring your milk.” He winked. “I warned you about the service. Okay, end of an era. Micah’s been a deputy here ever since he mustered out of the army. Nearly a quarter century now. He started working for the old sheriff, Nate Tate, who retired a while back, which was another end-of-an-era event around here. Anyway, at first Micah wasn’t very well accepted.”

“Why? Because he’s Native American?”

“Bingo. A lot of those prejudices still exist. He’s become kind of iconic over the years, like the old sheriff. And folks still call Gage the new sheriff, even though it’s been years.”

“I’m beginning to get the picture.”

He nodded. “Things do change here, they just change slowly.”

She was also adding together her impressions and began to feel very uncomfortable. “Wyatt? Will my staying with you cause problems? Because people are bound to talk and you’re a judge...”

“God, you sound like my father,” he said with a hint of exasperation. “I don’t care what they say. If I did, I wouldn’t have invited you.”

But her stomach sank even more as she realized his father had objected to her visit. Wyatt had often struck her as the knight-errant type, willing to fight for what he thought was right, despite the consequences to himself. That could be an admirable thing at times, but sometimes not. Like possibly now.

She had to force herself to look at the menu and find something she thought she could eat. As self-absorbed as her problems had made her for the last six weeks, she hadn’t lost her ability to care. She didn’t want to cause this man any trouble, so she’d need to figure out something quickly.

At last she chose a grilled cheese sandwich with a side salad. Despite the lack of service, their orders were placed in front of them quickly, and Wyatt dug into what looked like a really juicy steak sandwich.

“You’re rather unconventional in your approach to being a judge,” she remarked. “I’m used to judges who don’t take an interest beyond the law.”

“I don’t know that I’m unconventional. I just know these are real people with real problems, and a lot of them are my neighbors. Some come from the next county over and I may never see them again, but they’re still human beings.”

She looked up from her sandwich with a smile. “You were always like that. I remember how much you wanted to be a defense attorney. And why. Still tilting at windmills, I see.”

He half smiled. “I don’t know if they’re windmills, but while there are some things justice should never see, I think she needs to take off that blindfold once in a while.”

“Mercy.”

“Maybe. Certainly everyone’s entitled to a fair shake, and by the time some of them come in front of me, they’ve hardly had a fair shake in their lives.”

She nodded and reached for the second half of her sandwich, glad her appetite had returned. “I worked in a different world at those big firms.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Most of my clients had gotten more than their share of fair shakes in life. They were just looking for another one. Or maybe for a better-than-fair outcome.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Well-heeled, successful, mostly men who thought they had the world by a string. It came as a real shock when they found out they didn’t.”

Distasteful, she thought. Yes, it was the way up the ladder to maybe becoming a judge herself one day, but a lot of her clients...just because they had money didn’t mean she respected them.

But she did like the pro bono work she did when she could at the free legal clinic. She was going to miss that.

“Do you like chili?” Wyatt asked, drawing her out of her maunderings.

“Sure. Not the beans so much, though.”

“I make it without beans. How about we have that for dinner tonight?”

“You cooking?”

He laughed. “Absolutely. The chef is going to love having an excuse.”