* * *
Ward sat at his desk in the sheriff’s office, waving Mayor Sanders to the chair in front of him. He had hoped the string of incidents—part vandalism, part schoolboy pranks—plaguing the community had run their course and things would have settled down by the time he returned, but from the sounds of things, that wasn’t the case.
Before Ward had gotten word of his sister’s passing, there had been several incidents that seemed the work of overzealous mischief-makers. The hooligans had visited Enoch Lawrence’s place three times, trampling the garden, splattering paint, stealing laundry from the clothesline. Then they’d moved to a neighboring farm, opening the paddock gate and letting Saul Carson’s horses out, causing the rancher to lose a full day rounding them back up.
The one rather vague eyewitness account he’d gotten had come from Enoch’s daughter Hortense, who said she thought she caught a glimpse of two youths racing away after one of the incidents. All of which led him to believe it was the work of rambunctious kids who’d gone overboard with their pranks. But that didn’t make it any less unlawful and when he caught the culprits they would be dealt with severely.
“So let’s have it,” he said to the mayor.
“Last night someone broke a window in the back of the mercantile, pulled some of the canned goods from the shelves and took fistfuls of rock candy from the display case.”
It was sounding more and more like some fool kids with too much time on their hands. But they were getting much braver and more criminal with each incident. “You keep saying they. Do we have any idea how many?”
“No, in fact, no one’s seen anything since Enoch’s daughter reported what she saw. I’m just assuming it’s the same culprits.” He rubbed his chin. “There’s some as think it was the Lytle boys, though no one can agree which ones.”
Elmer and Orson Lytle were cousins but there’d been hard feelings between them for years. He wasn’t sure even they remembered the reasons anymore. Both men had two sons who were unfortunately beginning to follow in the footsteps of their fathers.
“Why the Lytle boys?”
“You mean besides the fact that they’re wilder than badgers and twice as ornery? The four of them started a brawl in the middle of the mercantile. Doug had to throw them out for disrupting his business and they were none too happy about it.”
“That’s not really proof that they’re the ones who broke into the place.” Though it sure gave them a strong motive.
The mayor shrugged. “Of course you should do your own investigating. I’m just letting you know what folks are saying.”
Then he gave Ward a pointed look. “The main thing you need to keep in mind is, folks are getting really stirred up about this, demanding something be done.” He grabbed the edges of his coat and gave them a tug. “And quite frankly, I agree with them. I know this isn’t a good time for you, what with your sister’s passing and all. But it may mean some extra patrols and late-night vigils from you until the perpetrator is caught.”
There was the hint of a warning in those words.
Ward wasn’t opposed to putting in extra hours to catch these lawbreakers; it was his job after all. But what did that mean for his ability to look out for Meg?
The mayor gave him a calculating look. “Not to pry into your personal business, but that little girl you had with you at the train station...”
He paused a minute as if expecting Ward to fill in the blanks. But Ward refused to make this easy for him and held his peace.
After a moment of awkward silence, the man continued. “Mind if I ask where she’s going to be staying while she’s here?”
“That hasn’t been decided yet.” Ward met the man’s gaze steadily, daring him to say anything else on the subject. While looking after Half-pint might not be part of his job, it was definitely a responsibility he felt strongly about. He hoped he wasn’t going to be put in the position of having to choose between the two duties.
Finally, Mayor Sanders nodded and took his leave.
Ward remained at his desk, fatigue dragging at him like an anvil. He hadn’t slept well since he’d received word of Bethany’s passing, and it was all starting to catch up with him.
The news of the break-in at the mercantile had only added to that feeling of bone-tired weariness.
Ward pushed away from his desk, mentally throwing up his hands. It was time to get ready for the funeral and nothing was going to make him late for that. He hadn’t been there to escort Bethany’s remains on the last leg of her trip home. Sure as the sun came up in the morning, he would be there to see her laid to rest.
As he walked the short distance to his house, a small structure next door to the sheriff’s office, he wondered how Hazel and Meg had fared. He had to admit, for all Hazel’s unorthodox ways, it was good to know he had someone like her whom he could count on to help out in a pinch.
Sometimes it felt as if he were taking advantage of the warmer feelings she had for him, especially since he didn’t return those feelings. But then again, he’d never led her on or gave her reason to think he considered her anything more than a friend. Better if they both just looked at it as one neighbor helping another.
Maybe she’d have some idea of what he should do about this whole unexpected situation with Meg. After all, Hazel’s mind seemed to work in ways he’d never been able to fathom—she might see something he was missing.
Could he impose on her to take in the little girl until the matter was resolved? He certainly couldn’t keep Meg at his place—if for no other reason than that his cramped living quarters weren’t a fit place to house a little girl.
But first he’d have to answer Hazel’s questions about Meg’s situation.
It didn’t take him long to get cleaned up. He pulled out his Sunday suit and paid meticulous attention to how he dressed. He would do his sister proud today.
As he pulled on his freshly shined boots, he glanced toward his bed. It would be so good to lie down for just a few minutes but he resisted the temptation. If he lay down now, he might not get back up until tomorrow morning.
Besides, Hazel and Meg would be waiting for him.
When he reached the dress shop he was surprised to see Hazel had the Closed sign in the front window. His conscience niggled at him. Was it in honor of Bethany’s funeral? Or because he’d taken advantage of her generosity and left Meg in her care?
He’d just raised his hand to knock when the shop door opened and Hazel and Meg stepped out.
The dark blue—nearly black—dress Hazel wore should have looked severe on her. But somehow it didn’t. Instead it highlighted the coppery gold of her hair and set off her green eyes to perfection. And her smile, as always, softened her sharp features. It was a mystery to him why some other bachelor hadn’t claimed her hand by now. Seeing her with Meg drove home just how suited she was to be a wife and mother. If only he was the settling-down sort—
Better he not let his thoughts go there.
Before he could greet them, Meg rushed over and hugged his leg. “Sheriff Gleason! You came back!”
The strength of relief and delight in the little girl’s voice caught him off guard. His anger toward her brother resurfaced. It was wrong that such a young child should be made to worry about being abandoned.
“Of course I came back, Half-pint. I told you I was going to look out for you.”
“Miss Hazel and I got this for you,” she said, holding out a small parchment-wrapped parcel. “It’s a piece of brittle. I had one, too, and it’s very good.”
“Why,