“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ellie said at last. “They should know that he will love them no matter what.”
“Actually, it does, Ellie,” Allison said, acknowledging her own oversight and latching on to the levelheaded Gracie’s theory.
“Well, why were they so terrible to you?” Ellie asked. “There’s nothing going on between you and Colt.”
Not that I wouldn’t like there to be.
Without warning, the thought flashed through Allison’s mind, and she stifled a little gasp of surprise. Now, where did that come from? Not once since Jesse had she felt any serious attraction to a man, and Colt Garrett was not the sort of man who could ever interest her!
“Oh,” Gracie said. “You’re right. Allison is their teacher, not the sheriff’s lady love.”
“Who knows what goes through the minds of children?” Allison said, warming to this new viewpoint. “Especially Sheriff Garrett’s children. You could be onto something with the notion that they don’t want anyone upsetting the status quo. I’m not sure children understand the different kinds of love or that it’s possible to love more than one person.”
She took a final sip of her cooling coffee and drew her purse closer, ending the conversation. “Homer said he’d think things over and decide on a course of action.”
She pulled some coins from her purse to pay for the coffee, but Ellie pushed them aside. “It’s on the house.”
“Thank you. I’d better start pinching pennies since I may soon be without employment. You don’t need a waitress, do you?” The expression in Allison’s eyes belied the lightness of her voice.
“Not really,” Ellie said with a laugh. She gave Allison’s hand a pat. “I know you’re worried, sister dear,” she said, falling back on the childhood term for Allison. “I can’t imagine it coming to that. Homer is one of your most loyal fans.”
“Maybe so,” Allison said, “but everyone knows that he’s very pleased with Colt as our sheriff, too.”
Colt scraped the fingers of both hands through his light brown, sun-bleached hair, rested his elbows on the desktop and clutched his aching head. The minute Allison Grainger was out of his sight, his anger had more or less dissolved. He resented her audacity, but he couldn’t deny that what she’d said, combined with what Ellie had told him, brought sharp focus to something he’d known for a while: he had a problem.
He wasn’t totally oblivious. He’d heard the whispers that accompanied the kids wherever they went. The people he considered true friends, like the Gentry brothers, had come straight out and told him pretty much what the teacher had—that he’d best get them in check before it was too late. As hard as it was to swallow, he knew they were all right. Something had to give. He didn’t want Brady to be illiterate or Cilla to be a shrew. Patrice certainly hadn’t been, and Colt didn’t think he was too cantankerous...except maybe when he dealt with the oh-so-prim Miss Grainger.
Why was he such a hopeless parent? He loved his kids. Would die for them. He tried to balance his time at home with work and gave them pretty much whatever they wanted, but according to Miss Grainger, they wanted boundaries. In other words, rules. Oh, he’d made lots of rules through the years. The problem was that he was much better at enforcing the laws of the land than he was at enforcing his own regulations.
He admitted to being bad about threatening them with dire consequences if they misbehaved but not following through. He knew he was too lenient and should punish them when that happened, but the thought of them being unhappy was more than he could stand, especially since he was their only parent. He supposed that leniency was his way of trying to make up for the loss of their mother.
Patrice had died when Brady was born, forcing Colt to take on the role of both parents. His son had been reasonably easy until he started school, but as Miss Grainger had told him time after time, he had a problem learning, which frustrated Colt and made Brady angry. Too often that anger drove him to disobedience.
Cilla, just five when her mother died, was definitely Daddy’s girl. Like her brother, she hadn’t been much of a problem until she’d begun to grow up. In a lot of ways, she seemed too old for her twelve years, and in others she was very immature.
In recent months, her moods had begun to fluctuate from childlike joy to pouty moodiness. Colt knew enough about the fairer sex to know that it was because she was fast approaching the time when she’d become a woman in the truest sense of the word. He had no idea how to explain the physical and emotional changes she was going through, so he just ignored them—and her—as best he could until her disposition changed back to something he could deal with. It seemed that women were born knowing how to deal with those emotional things men were not so good at.
There were times, though, like today, when he was forced to face his shortcomings. When that happened, he tried to put himself in their place and imagine what it must be like to grow up without a mother to confide in, talk to or look up to.
Wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t get him anywhere. The handwriting was on the wall. Looking the other way wouldn’t work this time. He knew Homer Talbot thought Allison Grainger was tops when it came to teachers, so it made sense that he would not want to lose her, which meant Colt would have to take charge of his progeny at last.
How are you going to do that? You haven’t been able to do it in seven years.
He had no earthly idea, but he thought he knew where to go to get some no-nonsense advice.
When Dan Mercer, Colt’s deputy, returned from running some errands, Colt left the office in his care and went to get Ellie’s take on things. Thankfully, the café was all but empty. Ellie was filling saltshakers. The expression on her face when she looked up told him she’d already heard the news.
“You’ve heard.”
She nodded and gestured toward an empty table. “From several folks, actually, including Allison.”
“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Colt asked as he pulled out a chair for her.
Ellie glared at him over her shoulder. “Her story matches Sarah VanSickle’s.”
Colt planted his hands on his hips and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Sit,” Ellie said.
He sat, and buried his face in his hands.
“Colt, look at me,” she commanded, circling his wrists with her fingers and tugging his hands down. His troubled gaze found hers. “You have to know...even I’ve told you...that the kids are...less than angels.”
A bitter laugh sputtered from his lips. “So it seems.”
“Well, then, the time has come for you to do something about it.”
“What? I don’t have a clue about what needs to be done.”
“Well, first you should stop letting them take advantage of you.”
“How do you figure?” he asked, scowling.
It was Ellie’s turn to laugh. “Everyone in town knows you’re tough on criminals and soft on your kids.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. That was exactly what he’d just been thinking. “So it’s a topic of dinner discussions, is it?”
“You know as well as I do that everyone’s circumstances are the topic of dinner discussions at one time or another,” she said with a little shrug.
“I’m