The Lawman's Little Surprise (2 page)

When he didn't reply, Hettie continued. “You don't have to talk to her. I know for a fact that Dusty is there. You two men get on well with each other, so you can just ignore us chatty females and have a nice visit of your own. I promise not to stay late.”

He doubted it would be that easy, but he wouldn't deny Hettie her visit with Trish, no matter how much he didn't want to see her again. “All right,” he conceded, “but just this once.”

 

“H
E'S JUST STUBBORN
,” Trish's sister said as they sat at the big kitchen table. “Heaven knows most men are, at one time or another. Maybe I could have Dusty work on him and—”

Trish nearly shot out of her chair. “No, Kate! Please don't say anything to Dusty.” She calmed the panic that her sister's remark caused and tried for a smile. “I'll work it out.”

Kate shrugged. “Whatever you say, but one of these days, Morgan Rule is going to regret all this.”

Trish wondered if that was true. She had always admired Morgan's dedication to his job and the way he enjoyed helping people. But now that she'd felt the effects of how stubborn and unreasonable he could be, her heart felt bruised and battered.

From the kitchen sink, Agatha Clayborne gave an unladylike snort. “Pride goeth before the fall, and it's been pretty telling around here that when Morgan broke it off with you, there were plenty who thought it was wrong. Why, just yesterday when I stopped in at the post office to mail that package, Betty asked how you were doing. And I told her—” She looked toward the door at the sound of a car pulling up the drive. Wiping her hands on a towel, she smiled. “There's Hettie, I'm sure. Trish, you get the door for her. There's only one reason she would be here and that would be to see you.”

“And you,” Trish added as she stood and caught the look that passed between Kate and Aunt Aggie. Perplexed, she walked to the door and opened it. There was only one person who knew she was home and told Hettie, and that would be Morgan. Hearing the sound of more than one car door closing, she looked outside and saw the cruiser under the glow of the yard light. Two people were approaching the house, one a tall, regal woman, the other wearing a Western-style law enforcement hat and not at all in a hurry.

Morgan had driven Hettie out to see her. Should she be pleased?

Before Trish could answer her own question or even begin to calm the flutter in her stomach, Hettie hurried
up the steps and around the porch to the kitchen door to wrap her arms around her.

“I was worried the weather might cause you problems,” Hettie said. “I see you made it home, safe and sound.”

Smothered in Hettie's warmth, Trish was still aware of Morgan mounting the porch steps. “The roads are fine, Hettie,” she assured her aunt's best friend. “I didn't have any trouble at all.” At least not until she'd made it into Desperation, but she wouldn't say so with Morgan so near. “Come on inside,” she said when Hettie released her. Glancing at Morgan now standing behind Hettie, she included him in the invitation. “Both of you. Aunt Aggie has coffee and some of Kate's famous cinnamon rolls from this morning.”

“Now I'm glad I skipped dessert,” Hettie said, laughing, and entered the house. Trish followed when Morgan took the door and held it for her. A nod to him was her thank-you. It was the
civil
thing to do.

Kate rose from her chair to be wrapped in Hettie's arms, as Trish had been, while Aunt Aggie placed an extra cup of coffee on the table. “Evening, Hettie,” Aggie said, and then turned to the sheriff who stood silently by the door. “Morgan, Dusty's in the living room watching a football game or something on television. I'm sure he won't mind the company. There's a cup of coffee for you there by the sink. Kate or Trish will bring the rolls in a few minutes.”

Trish watched Morgan fidget with his hat and thank her aunt. He also avoided looking Trish's way as he picked up the steaming mug from the counter and disappeared into the hallway.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, until
Aggie moved to the table. “Sit down and take a load off, Hettie,” she said as she settled on her favorite chair. “You, too, girls.”

Hettie took a seat to the left of Aggie and turned to look at Trish. “Is that fancy new car I saw when we pulled up yours?”

Trish finished her sip of coffee and put her cup down, thinking of Morgan's earlier remark about her car. “When I ordered it, I asked to have it delivered to one of the dealerships in Oklahoma City so it would be there when my flight arrived today.”

“The snow tonight was quite a surprise. It wasn't any problem for you?”

“None at all,” Trish answered. “It barely covers the ground, and it's been warm enough that the highways and roads are clear. But it really wouldn't have mattered. I had a lot of practice driving in the snow with rental cars in Chicago.”

“Chicago! At this time of year, that must have been a real experience.”

Trish laughed, remembering her first time driving in snow. Sliding into a snowbank taller than the hood of the car hadn't been her idea of fun. “I learned the hard way.”

Hettie leaned back in her chair, as if checking for sounds from the living room. Leaning forward again, she lowered her voice. “Morgan seemed a bit put out about that car.”

Glancing at the doorway behind Hettie that led down the hall to the living room, Trish shook her head and sighed. “He acted as if I had no right to be behind the wheel of any car.”

Beside her, Kate reached over and patted her hand.
“Be patient with him. He isn't accustomed to you being so independent. Personally, I'm so proud of you, I could bust, but he's obviously in a state of shock over it.”

“Could be he's just been missing you and didn't want to admit it,” Hettie added.

“Who's been missing who?”

All four women sat up straight and did their best to look innocent. Kate jumped to her feet, a big smile on her face, and hurried over to her husband-to-be. Linking her arm with his, she said, “Why, Dusty, I'm missing you.”

He grinned at them, obviously not believing Kate. “If you say so, hon. I just came in to find out where those cinnamon rolls are. Morgan and I are wasting away in there.”

“Yes, you are so wasting away,” Kate said, pinching his side and laughing.

“I'll get the rolls.” Trish hurried to the cabinet. She envied her sister. Had it been only a few months since she and Morgan had teased each other the same way? It seemed like years. Now they were working to be civil.

Forcing a smile, Trish took a plate piled high with rolls to Dusty and hoped he didn't see how disappointed she was. After all, she still had some pride.

“Any messages?” Dusty asked when she handed him the plate.

She looked up at him. “What?”

“Messages. You know. For him.” He jerked his head in the direction of the living room.

Shaking her head, she managed a real smile. “No, no messages.”

He turned to leave, but stopped to lean down and whisper to her, “Hang in there.”

It was apparent that Kate had kept him updated on the latest happenings, and Trish felt a small rush of embarrassment. But she quickly reminded herself that her sister—and her sister's fiancé, too—cared about her and didn't like to see her hurting.

When Dusty had taken the snacks to the living room, Trish returned to her seat at the table, hoping the conversation could turn to anything other than her problems or even her trip home. She didn't want Morgan to overhear anything that might be said about him.

She needn't have worried. Hettie asked about Kate's wedding gown, and before long, the upcoming wedding on Saturday was the main topic. Trish quickly forgot that Morgan was anywhere nearby as she joined the discussion of the pros and cons of an outdoor wedding in mid-December.

When Hettie announced it was long past time to leave and that Morgan was probably checking his watch, reality returned.

“I need to get a magazine I meant to show Kate earlier, before I forget,” Trish said, excusing herself. “I'll stop by to see you sometime this week, Hettie. With all the things still left to do with Kate's wedding, we'll be in town nearly every day, I'm sure.”

“Of course you will,” Hettie said. “The committee meeting for the New Year's Eve party is Thursday at the Commune.”

Great, Trish thought. One more place where she'd risk seeing Morgan. “I'd completely forgotten about that,” she admitted, “but I'll be there.”

After giving Hettie a quick goodbye hug, she escaped and hurried upstairs to her bedroom. Grabbing the magazine she had tossed to her bed earlier, she started down
the stairs, listening for sounds of Hettie and Morgan's leaving. When all seemed quiet, she reached the bottom and turned to walk down the dark hall. But she let out a squeal when she nearly collided with a tall, solid man.

“Sorry,” Morgan said, reaching out to steady her, and then pulled back immediately. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Catching her breath, she calmed her pounding heart with her hand. “Well, you did.” They stood there for a moment, the light from the kitchen barely reaching them. It unnerved her, and she finally broke the silence. “Why are you still here?” she asked, keeping her voice as quiet as possible. “I thought you'd left with Hettie.”

“She wasn't ready to leave yet. Aggie had something to show her, so I thought it would be a good time to go looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” He'd avoided her the entire time he'd been in the house, and now he had come looking for her?

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

“They'll be wondering where you've gone off to.” She moved, intending to step around him.

He reached out and barred her way with his arm. “I think they'll guess.”

Her breath caught. Even in the near dark, she could see something in his eyes. Something familiar. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He dropped his arm and kept his voice low. “I just wanted you to know that this was all Hettie's doing.”

She held her head high and did her best to keep her voice from wobbling with emotion. “I'd already figured that out.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. It's just that… Well, I
didn't want you to get the wrong idea and get your hopes up that…”

She waited for him to finish, and when he didn't, she did it for him. “That I would think you wanted us to get back together? To pick up where we left off? I can assure you I know better. You made that perfectly clear earlier.” Once again, she attempted to get past him, and again he stopped her.

“Don't do this, Trish.”

“
Don't do this?
You have the nerve to say that to me after—” She stopped herself. She wasn't going to put herself through this again. He had already told her how he felt. He blamed her. For what, she didn't know. Had it been because she'd wanted to take advantage of a rare opportunity to see a little of the country and meet the people in it? She'd sacrificed part of her teaching year, in addition to delaying her wedding plans. Her decision might not have pleased him, but she was glad she'd made it. And she was seeing a side to Morgan she hadn't known existed. Maybe it was better this way, but it certainly wasn't the best timing.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans, a sure sign that he was having problems with saying what he wanted to say. “I just want you to know that I still—” he began without looking at her. Slowly, he raised his gaze to hers. “I still care about you, Trish, and that's why this is so hard. I don't want you to get the wrong idea, because I don't want you to be hurt.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she'd already been hurt, possibly far more than he could guess, but he'd turned and walked away.

She watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. She heard her aunt and Hettie chiding him for having been
missing, and she stayed out of sight until she knew he had driven away, Hettie with him.

He'd made it clear it was over between them. But it wasn't. She needed to tell him she was very likely pregnant, but he was making it impossible for her to discuss it. Maybe for now, and until she was sure, it was best to say nothing.

“Don't let me forget the almonds for the marzipan,” Kate said as she and Aggie got out of Trish's car.

“Didn't you put it on the shopping list?” Aggie asked.

“Does she ever?” Trish said, laughing. Her sister was the worst with lists. It was a wonder she was able to pull together a wedding as quickly as she had in less than six months.

Aggie closed the car door and pulled a crumpled paper from her back pocket. “Give me a pen, Trish. I'll add it.”

With a sigh, Trish dug in her purse, found a pen and handed it to her aunt. “Did you add a stop at the post office for Kate's package?”

Aggie scanned the scrap of paper. “Yep, it's here.” Scribbling what was probably the word
almonds,
she grunted. “This list is going to take us all day.”

Kate stepped up onto the sidewalk near the Chick-a-Lick Café, and the others followed. “That's why I suggested we eat in town. I know how you get after a meal.”

She looked pointedly at Aunt Aggie, who shrugged her shoulders. “When you're my age, you won't be so full of energy, my girl.”

“My energy is about depleted,” Kate said with a loud sigh. “This wedding can't come soon enough. I'm longing to get on that cruise ship and do nothing but sleep.”

“And I'm sure that's exactly what you'll be doing,” Aggie said, winking at Trish.

Trish's reply was a laugh as she opened the door to the café. But her laughter died when she noticed Morgan sitting at one of the tables. She'd known it would happen. It would be foolish to think it wouldn't. In Desperation, you could always count on seeing the last person you wanted to see.

“Let's sit over there,” Kate said, pointing to the table next to Morgan's.

Before Trish could protest, Kate had hurried over and pulled out a chair. “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” she said.

“Miss Clayborne,” he replied with a brief smile and a nod. “All the Miss Claybornes, that is. What brings you into town today?”

“Wedding errands,” Aggie replied with a grunt as she sat on the nearest chair. “Enough to keep us here until sundown.”

Trish didn't fail to notice that her aunt and sister had given her only two choices. She could sit with her back to Morgan, giving him the satisfaction of not having to look at her, or she could sit on the other side of the table where they'd be forced to endure each other.

“Sit down, Trish,” Aggie said, pulling out and indicating the chair that would mean there'd be no way to avoid him.

Let him suffer, Trish thought as she took her seat and grabbed one of the plastic-coated menus. Instead of
hiding behind it, she opened it and laid it flat in front of her. Just let him try to ignore her. He'd soon find folks in Desperation would notice and have plenty to gossip about. But she instantly remembered she might soon be giving them lots to talk about.

Flashing her best smile—a smile she knew would show off her dimples—she looked directly at Morgan. “Have you caught any speeders today, Sheriff?”

He looked up, surprise in his eyes, and shook his head. “Slow day, slow drivers.”

“Maybe it'll pick up,” she said with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder. “We wouldn't want you to get bored.”

The look he gave her stalled her heart. “Never bored, not in Desperation,” he replied. “Especially not in present company.”

Trish was grateful that Darla chose that moment to take their orders. Trish turned her attention to her menu, doing her best not to dissect Morgan's words. He was usually a plainspoken man of few words, but at that moment, she wasn't sure what to think. “Trish?”

Jarred from her thoughts, Trish looked at Kate. “What?”

Kate gave a covert glance at Darla.

“Oh!” Trish could feel the heat of a blush on her face. “I'm sorry. I'll take the BLT and tea.”

“That's sweet tea,” Darla said, making a note on her pad.

“No, not sweet tea. Unsweetened, please. With a slice of lemon, if you have it.”

Darla looked up from her pad and stared for several seconds. “If you say so.” Walking away, she shook her
head, clucked her tongue and said, “The strange things people pick up when they're away.”

“I wonder what she would have thought if I'd ordered green tea,” Trish said.

Aggie laughed out loud, turning heads in the process. “She'd have flat out hit the deck.” Shaking her head, she made a face. “I don't know that I could abide unsweetened tea.”

“I've been trying to cut out sugars,” Trish explained.

Kate leaned forward. “I've heard green tea is good for you. Very healthy and can help with cholesterol and all that.” She turned to Aggie. “Maybe you should try it.”

“You'd like it with mint,” Trish added. “Kate, do you have any mint extract?”

Aggie
harrumphed.
“I'll stick with my sweet tea. I've been drinking it all my life. In fact, I think my mama put it in my bottle.”

“Now, Miss Aggie, it doesn't hurt to try something new.”

Trish looked up to see Morgan standing over them. “She really should,” she agreed, turning back to her aunt. “If you don't like it, Aunt Aggie, I'll drink it.”

“Put it on the list, Aunt Aggie,” Kate said. “And don't forget the mint extract.”

“This list just gets longer and longer,” Aggie muttered, but added the items to the paper.

“I see you all have this under control,” Morgan said. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies.” He touched the wide brim of his hat and turned to walk away.

“Oh, Morgan!” Kate called after him. “Don't forget the rehearsal on Friday night at six.”

He stopped at the door and turned around. “Dinner afterward?”

“Of course.”

“You cooking?”

“That's the rumor.”

“I'll be there. You can count on it.”

Kate laughed as he turned and opened the door. “I figured as much.” When he was gone, she turned to Trish. “I really do wish you two would work things out. You couldn't find a better man.” Her grin appeared, wiping out her concern. “Except for mine, that is.”

Trish smiled for a brief moment. “I never said I could. But Morgan isn't interested. Didn't you notice?”

“I still say, let Dusty talk—”

“Absolutely not!” Trish realized she'd raised her voice when several people turned to look at them. “It wouldn't help, Kate,” she said, her voice lowered. “He made his decision in October, and I don't intend to try to change his mind.” After the things he'd said the night she'd returned home, she couldn't think of a reason why she should make the effort.

Through the café's large front window, Trish could see Morgan talking to one of the local ranchers. Her appetite vanished, along with the man who had recently made her want to chew nails. But the situation wasn't over yet and would probably get worse before it got better—if it ever
did
get better.

She tried her best to participate in the conversation, but her mind was on other things. When they were finished and leaving the café, she knew this would be her only chance to escape.

“You two go ahead and start on the list,” she told them as they stood outside in front of the café, discussing what
to do first. “I have a quick errand to run, and I'll be back in a little while.”

“Where?” Kate asked.

“Just over to Kingfisher. I saw something there I wanted to get for the wedding. It won't take long, I promise, and then I'll be back to help finish the errands.”

“You can't get it in Desperation?” Aggie asked.

Trish shook her head. She didn't want to say any more than she had to.

Kate shrugged and glanced at Aggie. “I guess we can handle it. Don't take too long though, Trish. I'd hate to have to call Dusty for a ride home. He's up to his ears helping Tanner get everything in order with the stock company before we leave.”

“No longer than it has to take, I promise,” Trish said, moving to her car. When the two had walked away, she climbed in, started the engine and backed out of the parking space. If she could have done this errand in Desperation, she would have, but she didn't need anyone seeing her purchase the item she needed.

 

M
ORGAN WASN'T LOOKING FORWARD
to the wedding rehearsal. He'd pretty much known Trish would be back for her sister's wedding, but he'd hoped something—anything—might keep her from coming back too soon. And the other night had been too soon for him. If only canceling their wedding had canceled his feelings.

Opening the door to the Commune the next evening, he stepped inside the entry hall. His job as the town sheriff wasn't difficult, but before he'd come home, he'd had to lock up John Rutgers for making a scene at Lou's Place, the local tavern. John was a good man, but when
he started drinking, he got mean. Mean enough last June to hold a pistol to—

From farther down the hallway, he heard a door open. With his foot on the first step of the stairs leading up to his apartment, he stopped.

“I'll be back to help with dinner, Freda,” his uncle was saying to the Commune's cook.

The door closed and Morgan managed two more steps before Ernie called to him. “There you are. Come on into the kitchen with me while I check on dinner.”

Morgan didn't feel up to a conversation with his uncle. “I'd like to shower and change,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Resting his hand on the newel post, Ernie looked up at him. “I heard you ran into the Claybornes at the café.”

“I did. Don't think I hurt them, though.”

Ernie chuckled. “'Course you didn't.” He looked around and then met Morgan's gaze, his expression solemn. “I also heard you had to take John in.”

“Word travels fast,” Morgan answered with a wry smile. “I could really use that shower, and then I'll have to take something over for John to eat, so if you don't—”

“Ernie, who are you talking to?”

Morgan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. Hettie had ears like a bat.

Ernie pressed a finger to his lips. “Just talking to myself, Hettie.” Crooking the same finger at Morgan, he motioned for him to follow.

Morgan followed him down the hall to the Commune's office and his uncle's private apartment. “You can shower here,” Ernie told him. “Freda left a load of
laundry in the kitchen, and I saw some of your things in it. You shower, I'll get your clothes.”

“Thanks,” Morgan said as he tossed his hat to a nearby chair and strode to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. When his shower was finished, he found the clothes Ernie had brought, dressed in worn jeans and a T-shirt, pinned on his badge and grabbed his hat and jacket.

He was reaching for the doorknob when the door opened and his uncle walked in, a covered tray in his hands and a large thermos under one arm. “Freda got John's supper together while you were in the shower,” Ernie explained. When Morgan started to take the tray from him, Ernie shook his head. “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the sofa with a nod. “I've been meaning to talk to you. It won't take long.”

With a shrug, Morgan sat on the sofa while Ernie set the tray and thermos aside.

“Is everything okay with John?” Ernie asked as he settled in his easy chair.

Morgan dipped his chin in a nod. “He's behaving. Not that he hasn't been drinking, though.”

“It's only been that one time, right?”

Meeting his gaze, Morgan nodded again. “Like I said, he's behaving.”

Ernie was silent for a moment, then he shifted in his seat. “Maybe it's time to tell Trish what happened.”

“No.”

“You can't keep the truth from her,” Ernie said, his voice low. “You're not being fair to her.”

Morgan stared at him. “Fair? Was it fair when some hoodlums gunned Ben down in his own front yard? In front of his wife?”

Ernie shook his head and sighed. “No, it wasn't. But that doesn't mean you should live a lie and force Trish to live one, too.”

“I'd rather she believes I'm heartless.”

“You don't mean that.”

“I do mean it,” Morgan insisted.

“It's time to put the past to rest and move forward.”

“I did that when I came to Desperation. I believed bad things didn't happen here,” Morgan admitted, although it wasn't easy. “When I asked Trish to marry me, I'd thought those old memories were fading and I'd found some peace. But when John pulled that gun on me, all I could think of was that night in Miami. I swore then that I'd never put a woman through what Connie went through. I meant it.”

“The thing with John was a one-time thing,” Ernie said. “A fluke.”

“And who's to say there won't be another situation? Maybe John, maybe someone else. There's no guarantee.”

“Nobody has a guarantee.”

Morgan understood what his uncle was saying, but for him, it didn't matter. He'd rather see Trish with someone else than for her to become his widow. He loved her too much to risk letting that happen.

Getting to his feet, he avoided looking at Ernie. “I need to get that food to John.”

Ernie stood, too, and reached out to give Morgan's shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Think about it. That's all I'm asking.”

Nodding, but knowing there was nothing to think about, Morgan took the supper Freda had prepared for the prisoner and left the apartment.

He had his hand on the old brass door handle of the entrance to the Commune and was about to open the door when he heard Hettie.

“Are you leaving? I didn't know you were here.”

“Yeah, I need to get this food to the jail.”

“But the committee is here,” Hettie said from behind him.

He turned to her, completely at a loss. “What committee?”

Hettie sighed. “I can't believe you've forgotten. I asked you three weeks ago to be on the committee planning the New Year's Eve party. We'll need help with some of the decorations.”