Christmas Kiss From The Sheriff

She stopped pacing and looked up from her book, frowning at his interruption.

“Sheriff? What can I do for you?”

“Miss Starling. I need you to step outside for a minute.”

“What? Now? But I’m in the middle of class.”

Not the response he was looking for. “It won’t take long.”

She looked like she had just sucked on a lemon. Yep. The expression marring her pretty face at the moment was decidedly miffed.

She closed her book with a whump, the sudden noise startling half the class, and set the book on her desk. “Moira...” She addressed the young girl who had been reading. “Continue to the end of the page and then hand the book across to Uriah who will read on.”

* * *

As she strode directly in front of him and out the door he caught a whiff of the soap she had used that morning. It hinted of jasmine. A scent like that you didn’t forget. For a woman who was all business such an exotic soap was more than a little intriguing. He was pretty sure it wasn’t perfume—only ladies of the night used such devices—not sensible teachers. His mouth twisted in amusement as he followed her out the door.

“Now what is this all about?” she asked, turning abruptly to confront him at the base of the steps. Her deep brown eyes held his gaze, challenging him to make this worth her while.

“Found someone I believe is supposed to be here instead of down by the creek.” He nodded toward the girl that, despite his instructions, had moved and now hid halfway behind the shed.

Miss Starling’s shoulders lowered from their rigid set. Disappointment filled her voice. “Not again.”

Not again? “I ran into her downstream about half a mile from here.”

“I see. Thank you for seeing her safely here.”

She seemed to have thawed a bit for which he was grateful. That first look she had given the little girl was heavy enough to bow her small back with the weight.

“Tara Odom. What have you to say for yourself? Was it a rabbit this time? Or a squirrel? What was so fascinating that you would forgo class again?”

Tara didn’t answer at first, but stepped into full view. A second later her chin quivered and she hung her head. “I was looking for Billy.”

Miss Starling pressed her lips together as she seemed to consider her reply. No hint of a smile. No softening of her voice. “You have a responsibility to yourself. Your job is to learn. Concern about your brother is an admirable quality, but he made his own choice not to return after what happened this morning.”

Tears appeared in the little girl’s eyes. “I just want to know if he is okay,” she said in a small voice—a voice that now had a catch to it.

It seemed that the shiny copper penny had been forgotten. He wondered what had occurred that morning.

Miss Starling squared her shoulders. “I’m afraid that I will need to speak with your parents about this.”

The girl’s lower lip trembled. “My...my ma?”

The teacher didn’t appear in the least affected by the girl’s tears. Craig couldn’t say the same about himself. He’d always been a sucker for a female’s tears—his mom’s, and Charlotte’s.

“Yes. And your father.”

“He...he ain’t home.”

Miss Starling’s mouth tightened further. “I’m very disappointed in you. For the rest of the week you will stay inside at noon and work on your studies to make up for your lovely half day of recess today.”

“Yes’m.”

“You may take your seat now.”

With her shoulders hunched, Tara shuffled into the school.

He told himself to keep quiet. It wasn’t his place to say anything. Yet he wasn’t happy with the woman’s attitude. Didn’t she notice the girl’s distress? It wasn’t like he’d caught the child stealing or setting fire to something. She had just been enjoying a little freedom and apparently looking for her brother. Guess it would be best if he left before he said something he’d regret. He walked over to the tie line to get Jasper.

“You don’t approve.”

Her voice carried a hint of the Eastern Seaboard. Maybe that’s why it had sounded harsh to him. With a tilt of his head he indicated the school door where the girl had entered. “Seemed to take things a mite rough.”

“It is her third infraction in four weeks. She has to learn she can’t come and go on a whim. She’ll never get anywhere being lackadaisical. Life takes discipline.”

“I know all about discipline and I don’t need a lecture on it,” he said quietly. From what he’d heard, this was her first year of teaching. He hoped she loosened up before too long or her students might make things real rough for her. He happened to know a bit about that—having been one of those students himself at one time. “Her brother is usually with her. He looks out for her.”

Her lips parted and for a moment she looked unsettled, as though she hadn’t actually thought about the two as family. Not really. “As sheriff, I’d think you would be on my side.”

“Not on any side. Just an observation. Kids play hooky all the time. It’s part of growing up.”

“The last time I checked, I was the teacher here. Tara needs to tend to her own troubles rather than worry about her brother’s issues. He has enough to worry about as it is.” She picked up her skirt and ascended the steps.

Where had she grown up? Under a rock? “Family loyalty means something to most folks.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. Most folks, he reminded himself didn’t include his own.

With his words, she faltered on the last step, but caught herself. “I appreciate you seeing her safely here. I’ll take care of it. Good day, Sheriff.”

“One more thing,” he said, stopping her before she disappeared inside the school.

Her nostrils flared. She had a small nose. Cute. Distracting. And she wasn’t happy about his interruption in her life.

This was more important. If he remembered correctly, the Odoms’ property was about as far afield as a person could live and still be considered a resident of Clear Springs. The family’s low-slung cabin was little more than a shack hidden among the giant boulders on the eastern face of the mountain. The trail was nearly impassable. It was a wonder the girl made it to school at all. She was fortunate to have her brother’s company and care and likely wasn’t looking forward to traveling home on her own at the end of the day. “Have you ever been to the Odoms’ property?”

“No. But I have a good sense of direction. I’m sure I could find it.”

“It’s a fair distance, especially on her short legs. You told her she had to look out for herself. Well, I think she was doing that. It looks like her brother took their one and only ride.”

She shot a glance at the tether line. A long-eared mule usually stood there throughout the school day, stomping the ground and occasionally braying for attention. He’d heard it a time or two. Finding the animal gone took the starch out of her bonnet and for a moment she seemed at a loss for words. “So you do spy on me.”

“Just making my rounds. Keeping things peaceful. Quiet. Don’t want anyone lost...or hurt.”

She stared at him long enough that he wondered at it. “I’ll... I’ll see that she gets home.”

“You?” He didn’t need a lost teacher as well as a lost little girl on his conscience.

“Yes. Me.” That cute nose rose a little higher. “I can walk with her. I should speak to her mother anyway.”

He rubbed his chin, considering her—her clothes, the thin leather shoes she wore peeking from beneath her skirt. They didn’t look sturdy enough to hold up on a hike through the woods. “You won’t make it back to town before nightfall,” he said, none too happy about the prospect of heading that far out of town that evening. The Odoms stayed to themselves. The one and only time he had been to their cabin he had been greeted with a shotgun in his face. “The way I see it is...I’m taking her. It is my job to see to the safety of the people here.”

She arched a brow. “That’s commendable—and rather far-reaching for a description of your duties.”

He hadn’t expected her irritable attitude and wasn’t sure what to make of it, but this verbal battle wasn’t getting either of them anywhere. He wasn’t budging and neither was she. “I’ll come back at the end of school. We may both get a break and find that her brother has returned with the mule.”

She exhaled. “Fair enough. Thank you for bringing Tara back. If something keeps you from arriving at the end of the day, I will see that she gets home safely.” With a swish of her long blue skirt she disappeared into the schoolhouse.

Fine by him.

Chapter Two

It took the rest of the day for Gemma to calm down from Sheriff Parker’s visit. He rattled her. That’s what he did. Keeping things peaceful indeed! Where was he when the fight broke out between Billy and Duncan?

It was an unfair thought, but she thought it just the same. He couldn’t have known it would happen. The fight had taken her by surprise herself.

She’d thought over their conversation at least twenty times and come to the conclusion they had both been concerned about Tara’s well-being and that was a good thing. They simply went about it at odds with each other.

It hadn’t helped that his appearance happened right in the middle of Moira’s reading. It was the first time the Bishop girl had actually read more than one sentence without stuttering! She had gone on for nearly four sentences! Gemma had been so excited that she was holding her breath, afraid to break the spell, afraid that the least little wind would blow Moira back to her old pattern of refusing to read aloud at all. Even the other students realized something different was happening and were quietly amazed.

And then enter Sheriff Parker. Tall, blond, imposing Sheriff Parker.

Most of the men she had been introduced to in Clear Springs were married and fathers of the children she taught. Oh, she had met a few single men in church—a few miners, ranchers and cowboys. She had been careful not to be overly friendly. Actually she had quickly discouraged them, admitting truthfully that she had too much to do with this being her first year of teaching to entertain thoughts of a social nature.

It was only a half-truth.

But Sheriff Parker hadn’t approached her after the first and only time she’d been introduced to him—when he had arrived on Molly’s doorstep with her good friend Elizabeth. Since then in the course of walking to and from school, she had seen him about town. His office stood on the northernmost point of Main Street—the same road that led out of town and passed the school.

He had kept his distance. Only a tip of his hat brim or a brief nod indicated he’d even noticed her. It should have been a relief to her in a town where the men so unevenly outnumbered women. Unfortunately, all it had done was make her more aware of him. She told herself that it was because he held the office of sheriff and considering her past, that was a worry in itself.

It couldn’t be that he stood head-and-shoulders taller than other men, even though he did. He must be at least three inches over six feet. And it wasn’t that his square, strong jawline, and perfectly straight Roman nose made him more handsome than the others—which they did. He was just so...male. Even in his dealings with others, she had noticed that his deep voice and spare words held more import than if he’d spewed out the entire dictionary. He was manly, composed, dignified. And it was so very unsettling to know that her thoughts dwelled on him more than they should.

Today, he had said he was just making his rounds. Making sure everything was quiet. But all his lurking had done for her was kick up some very unquiet sensations. She had come West to leave certain things of her past in her past and start anew. She couldn’t afford to have a sheriff snooping around. If he found out the truth about her, he might send her back to Boston...and to jail.

While she washed off the large slate board at the front of the room of the lessons and examples she had posted, she kept an eye on Tara. After the girl had donned her heavy sweater and hat along with the other children gathering their coats, she watched them head out the door to their homes while she returned to sit dejectedly on the first-grade bench. Her small shoulders were slumped as she swung her legs back and forth and stared out the window. Gemma was halfway through sweeping the floor when a sharp whistle sounded.

Tara jumped from her seat and ran to the door. She looked back up at Gemma. “That’s my brother. Can I go?”

“May I go,” Gemma corrected.

“May I go?” Tara repeated.

Gemma leaned the broom against the wall and then walked to the door, wanting to make sure it really was Billy. Billy—who had never returned to class. At the edge of the woods, Tara’s brother sat astride the old mule. He didn’t dismount or attempt to come any closer, but stared at her, an obstinate expression contorting his face along with the bruise that had blossomed into a swollen purple discoloration closing his right eye.

He wouldn’t be persuaded to come talk to her. Not now. His anger was too fresh. If only she’d stopped the fight sooner. There might have been hope then to talk things through. She felt terrible that she hadn’t been paying attention more to what was happening outside while she wrote out the daily lessons on the board. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. What had caused the fight? Should she even make the attempt to discuss things with him? By the stubborn scowl on his face he wasn’t in any mood to talk.

Well, truth be known, she wasn’t either. It had been a trying day. Perhaps it would be better to put some distance between everything. Emotions were still raw, but in another day things would blow over. Things always looked better after a good night’s sleep. Always the next morning she was more clearheaded. “Go ahead, Tara. I’ll see you and Billy tomorrow.”

Tara’s little forehead wrinkled up. “Ain’t you comin’ to my house?”

“Not today. Let your mother know that I’ll be there Saturday.” She could only hope time would put everything in better perspective for them all.

Tara rushed down the steps and ran across the clearing to her brother. Once they’d disappeared down the lane, Gemma went back inside to finish her daily chores.

After stacking her papers and anchoring them with an iron paperweight, she grabbed her heavy blue coat and slipped into it. All that remained was to bring some kindling from the shed so that the stove would be ready come morning.

She walked around the side of the building to the shed. As she cracked open the door, a loud angry hiss sounded from the deep dark inside. Suddenly the door slammed outward and crashed against her shoulder. She lost her balance and tottered backward. One step. Two... And then she fell, going down hard on her derriere. Before she could think to move, a large furry ball raced out through the open door and scrambled frantically over her legs, its long claws scratching through her heavy woolen skirt as though it were thin paper.

“Aagh!”

The varmint raced toward the creek and disappeared.

She sat there stunned, her heart pounding, her breath coming in gasps. By its size and coloring it was a raccoon. She hoped it was a raccoon. She shivered, hoping it wasn’t a groundhog or badger or some other dirty animal. Did those even exist in this part of the country?

Nothing like this ever happened in Boston! She dragged in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse when suddenly her eyes started to burn. She was frustrated and discouraged at the same time. She didn’t like feeling helpless...frightened. And that’s just how the scare had made her feel.

Shakily, she gathered her wits about her and rose to her feet. She dusted herself off, straightening her coat.

How had the raccoon trapped itself in the shed?

Stepping up to the shed, she worked the latch on the door. She had heard that raccoons were smart, but were they smart enough to work this latch and open the door in order to enter on their own? Even then, the latch was fairly high off the ground. And with no food, nothing to bait it, why enter? It didn’t seem likely.

Unless, someone had put it there.

The image of Billy Odom’s angry glance before heading to the stream filled her mind. Was this his way of getting back at her for interfering with the fight? Maybe he had thought she slighted him when she sent him to the creek and didn’t require Duncan to go too. She had just wanted them to stay separated until their tempers cooled.

Perhaps it was simply a prank to garner excitement. After ten weeks, the newness of coming to school had waned for most of the children. With Christmas coming, it was much more difficult to keep their attentions. Likely, teasing the teacher was considered fair play about now.

But not fair at all by her book. She didn’t like this type of teasing. She didn’t care to be startled out of her wits.

Inside the shed a few remaining logs were strewn over the floor from the short, stacked pile. Either the raccoon had done that in its unsuccessful attempt to escape, or whoever put the animal inside had. Either way, she would soon need more wood. She made a mental note of the fact and picked up two small logs to take into the school. Still a bit wobbly and shaken, she shut the door and latched it securely.

Inside the school, she prepared the stove for lighting in the morning. Then, because of her scattered thoughts of raccoons and badgers, she pulled out her chair and climbed up onto her desk, searching the crux of the crossbeam with her hand. After a moment of patting along the beam, she touched on the box that held her father’s gun. She breathed a sigh of relief. Still there. It was good to know she and the children had protection but she hoped none of them ever learned of its hiding place.

And she hoped she never had reason to use it.

Sheriff Parker always had a gun strapped down at his hip. Had he had reason to use his in his position here in Clear Springs? The man’s holster and weapon fit to his hips like it was a part of him. He would look odd without it. She shuddered. Was it the thought of him firing it from a low, crouched stance? His jaw tight and his eyes squinting the way she’d seen it on the cover of dime novels? Or was it the image of that weapon riding low and casual on such a trim, broad-shouldered form that made her extra aware of him as a man and stole her breath?

He could be waiting outside right now. He had said he would return to escort Tara home. Gemma climbed down from her perch. She picked up her empty lunch pail and stepped outside. There was no sign of him in the schoolyard. Perhaps something had come up. Perhaps he’d seen Billy arrive with the mule. Whatever his reason for not showing himself to her, she was glad of it.

After making sure to lock the door behind her with her skeleton key, she headed to town.

* * *

Molly Birdwell’s lips twitched at the end of Gemma’s tale of the fight at school and then the raccoon. She slipped the supper dishes into the tub of warm water and soap and began to wash them. “Boys can be mischievous. I wouldn’t put it past my two young’uns to do something like that once upon a time.”

The woman hummed as she washed. Molly was broad in her hips and had a round face topped with fluffy white hair that reminded Gemma of a sweet Mrs. Claus. The woman’s husband had passed on four years back and she’d opened up her house to boarders to make ends meet. Gemma also suspected, with as much as the woman liked to talk and bake, that she enjoyed having company.

“Are you saying I should have handled it differently? That it’s a case of boys will be boys?”

“Oh, I ain’t saying that at all. Their pa would have walloped my boys good if he’d heard tell of them causing a ruckus at school. No—you did the right thing there. You couldn’t let them keep a-fightin’.”

Gemma rose from the table and grabbed a cloth to dry the dishes. She valued Molly’s advice. The woman had been through good times and rough times and had a commonsense approach to life that reassured Gemma.

Molly eyed her skeptically. “You ain’t never run into a situation like that?”

Gemma shook her head. “I didn’t fight with my tutors.” Just the thought of stern Mr. Allen rolling in the dirt in a bout of fisticuffs produced an unexpected giggle. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

Molly chuckled. “No...guess you wouldn’t, at that.”

“And what about the raccoon?”

“Now, that you can’t let them git away with. They’ll only try something worse next time.”

Next time? Gemma swallowed. “What do you mean...worse?”

“Oh, likely you got nothing to worry about. They was just trying to get a rise from you. ’Course, if it was mean-spirited, that’s another thing entirely.”

It could have been mean-spirited. She hadn’t gotten on well with Duncan or Billy for the past few weeks. Maybe she was pushing them too hard. They both had so much potential and she had encouraged their competition, hoping it would spur them even further in their studies. She hadn’t counted on it being quite so adversarial as an out-and-out fight.

“Then you don’t think the raccoon could have found its own way into the shed and the door just happened to slam shut?” she asked hopefully. She really didn’t want it to be because of a student.

Molly shrugged and kept right on washing. “Guess you’ll have to talk to your class and figure that out.”

“Molly, they are not going to confess to something like this. No one would.”

“No, but you might be able to tell something from the way one of the kids acts. And though I don’t hold with squealin’ on your neighbor, one of those children might feel a need to tell on his classmate.”

Gemma contemplated the woman’s attitude and wondered if she would ever feel that self-assured. An education in Boston sure didn’t translate to real life in the back country. People here set more stock on common sense and survival than they did on head knowledge.

“I learned one thing from today. I’d better make sure the shed has a way to open it from the inside. I wouldn’t want one of my students to get trapped in there like the raccoon.”

Molly nodded. “That’d be hard on a young’un for sure.”

“Let alone trying to explain to the school board how I let it happen.”

“Could be something that would leave a soul scar.”

“A soul scar?” Gemma asked. She’d never heard of such a thing.

“Something that hurts a body. Something you can’t see with your eyes. It ain’t on the surface like a limp or a burn that puckers the skin. It’s deeper than that. It’s something real hard to heal from. Something that’s always there inside you for the rest of your life.”

Like her reason for leaving her home. She understood Molly perfectly now. “I wouldn’t want to inflict that on any child.”

She stacked the last dish on the shelf before speaking again. “I had a visitor today.”

“Other than the raccoon?” With her grin, Molly’s round spectacles rose up on her apple cheeks.

“Tara Odom decided to go looking for her brother after the fight. The sheriff found her by the creek and brought her back to school.”

“He’s earning his pay then.”

“He didn’t care for the way I disciplined Tara. It’s just...she’s so far behind the other children and I know she has it in her to do so much better. I was...strict with her. And I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice to the sheriff.”

“Now, don’t let that bother you. You have to handle things as they come and as you see fit at the time.” Molly wrung out the dishrag and turned to wipe down the kitchen table. “He’s new in town himself. Just been here six months or so. That’s barely enough time to get settled into the place and know what’s what.”

“It’s just...”

“Just what, dear?”

Gemma sighed. “I don’t know. He’s so...big and...and...”

Molly raised her brows, this time tilting her snowy white head. “I’d think that would be a good thing for a sheriff.”

The thought of Sheriff Parker had her insides twisting into a knot. What was it about the man that set her senses so off-kilter? She probably shouldn’t have mentioned anything to Molly. From all she’d heard of the man, people thought he was doing a solid job as sheriff. They only had good things to say about him—Molly included. But still...