And Then Came Spring (4 page)

Chapter Six

Dreading another night in town, Mary-Jo went back to Daniel's house. Eddie was staying with his uncle at the boardinghouse, so she knew it would be vacant. Since Daniel went and got himself killed, the least he owed her was another night's shelter.

Still, she felt like an intruder. She moved from room to room, imagining how her life might've been different if Daniel were still alive when she saw a torn pair of Eddie's trousers. Just opening the top drawer of the desk in search of a writing implement to mark the fabric made her feel guilty. So anxious was she to close the drawer she almost missed the letters with the
Hitching
Post
's return address.

She lifted the stack from the drawer. It touched her to know that Daniel had kept all her letters just as she'd kept his. She couldn't decide whether to toss these or keep them. All she knew was that she didn't want anyone else reading them. She threw the stack into the wastebasket to burn later, but the string broke and one letter drifted to the floor.

She stooped to pick it up and frowned; the handwriting was not her own and yet it looked somehow familiar. Curious, her gaze followed the fine script across the page. The writer gave a glowing account of her many accomplishments. Mary-Jo's lips puckered. What a braggart! Whoever this woman was, she didn't have a modest bone in her body.

She frowned. Obviously Daniel had considered another mail-order applicant, but why would he choose her over a woman nothing short of a human dynamo?

She glanced at the signature on the second page and froze. The letter was signed
Mary-Jo Parker
clear as day. Falling to her knees, she retrieved the letters from the wastebasket and quickly riffled through them. Her name was on every last one.

She now knew why the handwriting looked familiar. Whoever wrote these letters to Daniel was the same person who wrote Daniel's letters to her. And unless she missed her guess, that person was Mr. Hitchcock himself.

Horrid realization swept over her, and it all began to make sense. The owner of the mail-order catalogue edited and, in some cases, rewrote the letters she and Daniel exchanged.

Fury rushed through her and her body shook. She thought Daniel had lied in failing to tell her about his son and previous marriage, but she was wrong. It was that deceitful Mr. Hitchcock who had done the lying. She had a good mind to give him what-for. While she was at it, she just might wring his dishonest neck!

•••

The day went from bad to worse. Garrett knew nothing about taking care of an eight-year-old and even less about taking care of a problem child like Eddie. After leaving the cemetery, he realized it was too late to take the boy to school. Instead, Garrett stopped to pay the shopkeeper for the stolen apple and made Eddie apologize. After heading back to the office, he ordered Eddie to sit while he finished paperwork.

It would have been easier to tame a bronco. Eddie wiggled back and forth and swung his legs. He finally occupied himself by tossing his rabbit foot in the air and catching it with his cap. Eventually he fell off the chair altogether.

Garrett grimaced with irritation. “Put that thing away!”

Eddie stuffed the rabbit foot in his pocket and tried to catch a fly that was buzzing around his face.

Deputy Sheriff Barnes finally offered to take the boy to the ice-cream parlor, but Garrett still couldn't concentrate. Thoughts of Miss Parker kept interrupting, making it impossible to have a clear thought. He tossed his pen down and rested his head in his hands. What had he been thinking, yelling at her like that? On church property, no less.

That morning he and Barnes had to deal with one problem after another. Between them, they'd made three arrests before eleven a.m., mostly for fighting. Barnes blamed it on the full moon. It was either that or spring fever.

By the time Garrett was able to stop at the house and thank Miss Parker for staying with Eddie the night before, she wasn't there. Worried, he headed for the schoolhouse, hoping to find his nephew there. It was only by chance that he happened to spot the two of them in the cemetery. Relief was soon followed by anger.

It didn't seem right for the boy to be laughing so soon after his father's death—not just laughing, but running around with playing cards in his hands.

That memory was followed by another. He remembered how Miss Parker looked with the boy, a lacy petticoat showing beneath the hem of her skirt. She sure did look pretty when she smiled and the thought made him grimace. He had no right thinking such thoughts of his brother's fiancée with Dan not even cold in the grave.

He buried his face in his hands. Still, he shouldn't have yelled.

Dan wouldn't have. He fought injustice with quiet, firm resolve in the hallowed rooms of the courthouse. That was where he and his brother differed. Most of Garrett's fights had been in ditches and cotton fields, behind blaring guns and cannons.

Dan knew how to save a client from the gallows, but he didn't know how to raise a child like Eddie. That was one area Garrett had in common with his brother.

The door sprang open and Garrett's thoughts scattered. Miss Parker stormed into his office looking madder than a newly plucked hen. She flung a pile of letters onto his desk. Never had he seen so much rage pour out of such a pretty package.

“Of all the low-down, despicable . . .” On and on she railed.

He tried to make heads or tails out of her rants. “Are you saying that this . . . uh . . . Mr. Hitchcock wrote these letters to Dan?” he asked when he could get a word in edgewise.

Her pretty blue eyes flashed with indignation. “That's exactly what I'm saying!”

He scratched his head. “But why would he do such a thing?”

“Obviously, he wanted to make me sound better. Not only did he hide my lack of learning and Pa's gambling, I have no doubt he deleted any mention of Eddie in Daniel's letters to me.”

Garrett rubbed his chin. “So then Dan didn't lie to you.”

She lifted her chin. “And I didn't lie to him.”

“I guess it's settled then,” he said.

She stared at him, incredulous. “Settled? Nothing is settled. I want you to arrest Mr. Hitchcock for fraud.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that.” He glanced down at the return mailing address in New York. “It's out of my jurisdiction. You'll have to contact the district attorney in his home state.”

She rose to her full height and whirled about. “That's exactly what I intend to do! I'm leaving on the morning train, but you can be sure I'll write the district attorney the first chance I get!”

With that she stomped out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

Guilt rushed through him for having misjudged her. Had she given him half a chance, he would have apologized.

He had just about decided to chase after her when Barnes returned with Eddie. The deputy sheriff took one look at the letters scattered across Garrett's desk and frowned.

“What's all this?”

“Long story.” Garrett gathered up the letters and stuffed them in his drawer. He had no desire to work and decided he might as well call it a day. He motioned to Eddie. “Come on, let's go.”

Eddie folded his arms across his chest. “I don't want to go with you. I want to go with Miss Parker.”

Barnes shrugged and sat at his own desk. “Looks like you got your work cut out for you, boss.”

Garrett grunted and studied the boy. He was the spitting image of his father, not just in appearance but in mannerisms. Dan had the same jutting-jaw look when defending a client, the same way of narrowing his eyes.

“You know Miss Parker is leaving town.”

“Only because you're forcing her to,” Eddie said, pushing his bottom lip out farther.

“I'm not forcing her.” Okay, so he hadn't exactly made her feel welcome. He tried to put the memory of flashing blue eyes and unleashed rage out of his mind. The woman was a regular wildcat, that was for sure. But he'd also seen those same eyes soften when she looked at Eddie.

“I can't make her stay, but I'll tell you what. If you come back to the boardinghouse with me and mind your manners, we'll go to the train station tomorrow morning and bid her good-bye. How's that?” That would also give him a chance to apologize.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Chapter Seven

Mary-Jo arrived at the train station early. Had it only been forty hours since she first arrived in town? Hard to believe. In some ways it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Everywhere she looked, families stood around in secure little knots. One man perched a small boy on his shoulders and she couldn't take her eyes off the two of them. Loneliness cut through her. If God was good enough to ever bless her with children, that was the kind of father she hoped they would have, knock on wood.

“Miss Parker!”

Hearing her name, she turned and smiled. Never did she think she'd seen a more welcome sight. “Eddie! What are you doing here?”

“We came to say good-bye,” he said.

“Who's
we
?” she asked.

“That would be me.” Sheriff Garrett stepped from behind a post and laid a hand on Eddie's shoulder. “I . . .” He cleared his throat.

“You really ought to do something for that throat of yours, Sheriff.”

Today his eyes matched the color of bluebells growing along the station fence. “I want to . . . apologize for my behavior yesterday in the cemetery. Eddie explained you were helping him with schoolwork and saying good-bye to his pa.”

The sound of a whistle announced the arrival of the train. The platform vibrated beneath her feet. “And he was helping me collect my lucky playing cards.”

The train screeched to a stop with a hissing sound. All around them, people started to scurry.

“I'm sorry we met under such trying circumstances,” the sheriff offered. They stared at each other for several moments before he broke eye contact to glance at the train. “We won't keep you. We just came to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye.” She smiled and added, “Good luck.” The sheriff might not believe in luck, but judging by the dark look on Eddie's face, he sure was going to need it.

“I don't want you to go,” Eddie cried out.

The sheriff frowned. “Miss Parker has to leave.”

Eddie glared up at his uncle. “She's only leaving because you're making her.”

“That's not true.” Garrett reached for Eddie's arm, but the boy pulled back and took off at a run, disappearing into the milling crowd.

Mary-Jo felt terrible. She never meant to cause the sheriff trouble. “I'm sorry,” she said, then without thinking she laid her hand on his arm.

He glanced at her hand before lifting his gaze to hers.

She pulled her hand away. “I never meant—”

“You better hurry,” he said, his voice taut. “You don't want to miss your train.” With that, he spun around and hurried away. Tearing her gaze from his retreating back, Mary-Jo walked toward the train on lead feet.

•••

That night Mary-Jo walked up the boardinghouse steps to the dark porch and knocked on the door. A light shone in the window and that was a good sign.

The door opened a crack and a nose as long as a crow's beak was all she could make out. “May I help you?” It was a woman's voice and even her thick guttural accent couldn't hide the disapproving tone.

“Yes, I wish to speak with the sheriff,” she said. “I was told he lived here.”

The door opened all the way, revealing a gray-haired woman in a lace cap and a long dressing gown. Sharp gray eyes assessed her. “You're the woman who wore the yellow dress to Mr. Garrett's funeral.” Without allowing Mary-Jo time to confirm or deny it, she added, “It's late.”

It was a little after eight, but the woman made it sound like the wee hours of the morn. “It's important that I speak with him.”

The woman hesitated a moment, then invited Mary-Jo into the house with a nod of her head. She pointed to the parlor and waited for Mary-Jo to sit before climbing the stairs.

Mary-Jo straightened her skirt and folded her hands on her lap.

Footsteps on the stairs almost made her lose her composure. She debated whether to stand or stay seated. In the end the choice wasn't hers to make. The moment the sheriff's tall form filled the doorway, she jumped to her feet without thinking.

“I didn't mean to disturb you, but I was worried about Eddie,” she said in one breathless sentence.

Surprise suffused his face. “I thought you'd left town.”

“I couldn't leave without knowing he was all right.” He was, after all, Daniel's son. “I stopped by your office and your deputy said you were still looking for him. I thought he might have gone to the cemetery, but he wasn't there and . . . I couldn't find him anywhere. I looked for him all day . . . all over town. And he never returned to the house.”

“He's fine. He's asleep.”

Relief rushed through her. “Praise the Lord.”

They stood staring at each other. The dainty furniture and delicate knickknacks looked absurd in contrast to his height and powerful build. The only sounds were the steady tick-tock of the long case clock and the pounding of her heart.

“I . . . I won't keep you,” she stammered. She reached for her reticule.

He reached out his hand. “Stay.”

Her eyes widened. “You . . . want me to stay?”

“It's not all that late. Please have a seat.” He strode into the room.

She sat on the edge of the floral-print settee to accommodate her bustle, and he sat in a nearby wingback chair.

“I'm so happy to hear that Eddie is . . . where he belongs,” she said, filling in the rather uncomfortable silence that stretched between them.

“He doesn't think he belongs here with me.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn't expect to have to raise a child, at least not under these circumstances.”

“He . . . said you're his only family.”

The sheriff nodded. He talked about his deceased parents and growing up in Kansas; she told him about her amazing sewing machine.

“I planned to start my own business once Daniel and I were married.”

“The town could use a dressmaker.” He studied her. “Eddie told me you lost a friend during the war.”

She lowered her lashes, not sure how much or little to say. “My fiancé,” she said at last.

His eyebrows shot up. “I'm sorry . . .”

“So am I.” She took a deep breath. “What do you call a woman like me?”

“I don't understand what you mean.”

“When a woman loses a husband, we call her a widow. What do you call a woman who loses a fiancé? Who loses
two
fiancés?”

“I have no idea,” he said, and the sympathy in his eyes unnerved her.

She quickly changed the subject. “Eddie told me you fought in the war too.”

He looked surprised, then pleased. “I didn't know Eddie knew that about me.”

“I reckon we'd both be surprised at how much Eddie knows.”

“Maybe so.” He studied her. “I shouldn't have mentioned the war. It must bring back painful memories.”

“The war's over,” she said.

“But the memories remain.” Raw pain shimmered in the depth of his eyes, but whether from memories of the war or grief for his brother, she didn't know. Probably both.

“You and Eddie are very much alike,” she said.

“How so?”

“You both have strong feelings about what you believe in. The only difference is, Eddie hasn't yet found a cause.”

“Never thought Eddie and I shared anything but a slight family resemblance,” he said.

“Not so slight.”

He gazed at her with an intensity that made her blush. For the first time she noticed the intriguing cleft in his chin.

The clock began to gong, reminding her of the lateness of the hour. “I . . . I better go.” She slipped the chain of her reticule over her wrist. “I have an early train to catch.”

“Let me take you back to my brother's house.”

She hesitated. She still felt like an intruder whenever she entered Daniel's house and yet what choice did she have? “I hope you don't mind, but I left my belongings there earlier.”

“I don't mind and Dan wouldn't either. And I'll sleep a lot better knowing you have a place to stay.”

His concern for her welfare made her feel all cozy and warm inside. The emotion left the moment the chimes began to slow.

She jumped to her feet. “You better wind the clock.” Her voice was edged in panic, but it couldn't be helped. If he didn't hurry, the clock would stop, and that meant death.

He gave her an odd look but said nothing as he rose. He opened the clock's glass door and turned the key. “There,” he said, closing the cabinet. He frowned. “Are you all right?”

With an uneasy glance at the clock, she nodded. The chimes continued all the way to nine. “I'm just tired, is all. It's been . . . a hard week.”

•••

A big yellow moon hung in a star-studded sky as they walked to Daniel's place. The wind that had swept through town the day before had stopped, leaving the air cool and delicately scented with sweet verbena.

“Tell me about Eddie's father,” she said as they walked along streets lined with shuttered establishments.

“What can I tell you? Things always came easy for Dan.” They walked past a sleepy farmhouse and newly tilled fields before he continued, “He could read by the time he was three, and he was successful at everything he did.”

“Must run in the family,” she said. “A war veteran and sheriff. That's pretty impressive. I say you've both gone and done your parents proud.”

“My parents were pacifists.” His voice was without bitterness or rancor, but she detected a strain of resignation. “My way was never their way.”

“But your brother's way was,” she said, reading between the lines. “I reckon they never figured out that every family needs a warrior.”

He flashed a smile and his teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “After what I saw in my office yesterday, I venture to guess you're the warrior in your family.”

She smiled too. It seemed like she had been fighting all her life just to survive. “I guess that makes us two of a kind.”

“I don't think you and my brother would have made a good match,” he said.

She turned her shoulder, trying not to let on how much his words hurt. Finally she found her voice. “I guess he needed someone with more learning.”

There was a long pause. “I . . . uh,” he began. “That's not what I meant. I don't think he'd know what to do with a wife who wasn't afraid to speak her mind.”

She glanced at his face, but it was too dark to read his expression. “Guess we'll never know, will we?”

“Guess not.”

They arrived at Daniel's house. Not even the moonlight penetrated the dark, and he insisted on going in first.

“Be careful of my sewing—”

A thud and groan met her words.

“Are . . . are you all right?” she cried.

For an answer the light came on. He seemed all right and relief rushed through her. “Sorry. I shouldn't have left it there.”

He stood her machine upright. “No problem.” He hesitated, and she had the strangest feeling he was reluctant to say good night or perhaps that was only wishful thinking on her part. “Are . . . are you still planning on leaving town?”

She nodded. “In the morning.”

“I'll pick you up and take you to the train station.”

“That's not necessary.”

“I'd feel better knowing you made the train safely,” he said.

“Thank you, that's very kind.”

They gazed at each other for a moment and a warm glow rushed through her.

As if to catch himself from staring, he blinked and quickly headed for the door. “I . . . I better let you get some sleep. Good night.”

“Good night.” She stood at the threshold, not wanting to see him go. “Unlucky,” she called after him.

He swung around to face her. “I'm sorry?”

“That's what you call a woman who loses two fiancés. Unlucky.” And with that she closed the door.