Silent Night in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
For private investigator Wade Sutton, the town holds too many memories–none of them fond– of his childhood.Yet he can't say no when the sheriff asks him to secretly watch over a woman who might be in danger. "Helping" lovely Jasmine Hunter with the church's Christmas celebration does more for his bruised heart than he wants to admit.As does being back on his family's farm. But he can't stay in Dry Creek. Unless…Jasmine gives him a reason to call it home again.
“Do you always loom over your prisoners like this?” Jasmine asked.
Wade was standing so close she could count the whiskers on his chin. He stepped back in surprise. “You’re not my prisoner. I’m protecting you.”
She stepped to the refrigerator and opened the door. “I don’t think anyone camps out in freezing temperatures because they’re protecting someone.”
“I do,” Wade said quietly.
“Yeah, well, Lonnie isn’t coming here. He doesn’t even know how to get here.” She saw the doubt race across his face. “I know I could have told him how to find me, but I didn’t. You’re just going to have to trust me on that.”
Jasmine wasn’t looking at Wade, but she knew if she looked up she would see an expression of incredulity on his face. A lawman could never trust an ex-con, not entirely….
JANET TRONSTAD
grew up on a small farm in Montana that had a barn, even if it wasn’t big enough for an angel to swing from the rafters. Maybe that’s why Dry Creek has a barn big enough so the angel can really fly. Janet has always loved a story that’s better than life. Today, she lives in Pasadena, California, where she works as a full-time writer.
Silent Night in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
—Luke 2:11
I have been blessed in my life to have some
warm, wonderful aunts (my mother’s sisters).
This book is dedicated to them:
Wilma A (deceased now but I think of her often),
Grace L, Alice N, Mary M and Gladys B.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“You want me to keep an eye on her?” Wade Sutton pushed the café curtain aside and looked through the window to the only street in Dry Creek, Montana. Clumps of melting snow lined the rough asphalt road and the one vehicle in sight was an old motorcycle leaning against the corner of the hardware store. A tall, red-haired woman was walking toward that store right now, swinging her arms as if she was on some mission from God.
Wade grinned slightly as the edge of his hand pressed against the cold window. It was a cloudy December day and seeing the woman in her bulky, gray sweater and faded dress made his heart beat faster. He liked a strong woman and he could tell by the way she walked that she was a fine one.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew the woman’s skirt up to her knees. She caught the material before it could go any higher. Now, that was the problem with all the piety in this small town, he thought. What was the point of a woman wearing a dress if she didn’t show more leg than that?
Wade leaned forward to see if the wind would blow again.
“Nice looking, isn’t she?” Sheriff Carl Wall said, moving the toothpick in his mouth. The two men were sitting in the café with their empty breakfast plates on the table in front of them. It was ten o’clock in the morning and the waitress was back in the kitchen. No one else was around.
“She’s a regular movie star.” Wade let the curtain fall into place and turned his attention to the other man. He knew the woman couldn’t be as pious as she looked. Not if the sheriff had asked him to come up from Idaho Falls to watch her. “What’s her thing? Stolen property? Blackmail? Arson?”
Wade was ready to sink his teeth into a surveillance job. Until six months ago, when he’d injured his leg while taking down some drug dealers, he’d been the busiest independent private investigator in the Rocky Mountain area. Now, no one except his old friend here was willing to defy the doctors and consider hiring him while he was still in physical therapy.
“Jasmine Hunter hasn’t done anything,” the sheriff said as he leaned back. “In fact, she even agreed to be the angel in the Christmas pageant this year, so she’s real popular around here.”
Wade remembered those pageants. “Then she’s just plain nuts.”
The annual pageant was held in an old barn on the edge of Dry Creek. The angel traditionally flew over the crowd with the help of a pulley in the hayloft. Wade had been the last kid allowed to swing as the angel. Now, it was always an adult.
“They’ve retired that leather pulley system you used. The pageant committee put in a whole new rope and wheel job. It’s as safe as riding in an airplane.”
Wade grunted. He’d take his chances with the old system; he didn’t trust anything designed by a committee. Either way, it took nerve, though. Maybe that was why the sheriff had asked him here. “You want me to keep an eye on your angel so she doesn’t skip town before the pageant? Is that it?”
“Very funny,” the sheriff said without a smile as he leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “The truth is, I’m not worried about what she’ll do, but what someone might do to her—if you get my meaning.”
Wade didn’t have a clue as to his meaning. The sheriff’s square, homely face didn’t give much away. Wade hadn’t been able to read Carl’s face forty years ago when they were boys, so he didn’t know why the man thought he could do it now.
“Has she requested protection?” Wade finally asked. The woman out there walking in the wind didn’t look like she’d welcome someone stepping into her business. “I don’t think anyone would attack an angel, especially not before Christmas.”
“It’s got nothing to do with the pageant. And no, she hasn’t asked for help. She’s too proud. That’s why you need to be discreet, so she doesn’t know you’re keeping an eye on her.”
Wade wondered what the angel was up to in her spare time. “This better be good. What is it? Abusive husband? Witness protection? What?”
Wade hoped it wasn’t a domestic problem. The holidays brought out the worst in some families. He should know. As a boy, he never had a list for Santa Claus. All he wanted for Christmas was a safe hiding place so he wouldn’t meet up with his grandfather’s fists.
“There’s no husband,” the sheriff said as he leaned back again. “Not even a boyfriend hanging around. It’s just a hunch I have.”
The room was silent.
“That’s it?” Wade finally asked to be sure he wasn’t missing something. It wasn’t only a desire to get back to work that brought him here. His savings were almost gone so he really needed this job, but still—this was Carl. “I remember your hunches. They didn’t always pan out.”
“This one’s different.” The sheriff crossed his beefy arms. “You’ll see.”
Wade lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I hope you and your hunch are going to be around to post bail when this woman hauls me to court for following her around for no good reason. That’s what will happen, you know. She’ll call me a stalker. Just being worried is no excuse to put a tail on someone.”
Wade didn’t have much, but he prided himself on being a fierce defender of the law. He didn’t take bribes, he didn’t look the other way and he sure didn’t violate anyone’s rights by surveilling an innocent woman for no reason—especially not one who was as good-looking as that redhead. She wouldn’t be the only one who would think he was a stalker; he’d half believe it himself. Even Scrooge would hesitate to put a tail on the Christmas angel.
“Now, don’t go getting ahead of yourself. I’m not asking you to follow her exactly. She’s staying out at her father’s place—Elmer Maynard. You remember him? I just thought you could keep an eye on her. There’s no law against seeing what’s in front of your face.”
“Elmer doesn’t have a daughter.” He remembered more than he cared to about his days growing up in this small town. The Maynards owned on the place next to his grandfather’s farm so he knew them well. The man didn’t have any sons, either.
“It turns out Elmer had an affair back when we were kids. Not that he knew anything about Jasmine until she showed up in Dry Creek last fall, fully grown and cruising past forty.”
So she was around his age, Wade thought in satisfaction. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. He made it a point never to socialize with church women and he’d guess she was a staunch one if she’d agreed to swing on that rope in the pageant. Besides, he was here on business.
He went back to the sheriff’s comment. “I bet the tongues are still wagging over Elmer having a daughter.”
Even as a boy, Wade knew how much Elmer and his wife wanted children. Of course, Elmer’s wife was dead now so she would never know that her husband had a kid all along.
The sheriff shrugged. “People can only talk about things like that for so long. By the time Jasmine found the three men who might have been her father and figured out Elmer was the one, well, people had sort of gotten used to her. And Edith Hargrove stood up for her, which helped a lot. She’s Edith Nelson now that she married Charley, but I’m sure you remember her.”
“Of course, I remember her.”
Who could forget Edith? She was a warrior. When he was six, she had knocked on his grandfather’s door and announced that Wade belonged in Sunday school. His grandfather had been too drunk to respond and Edith boldly took his silence for agreement. Every week after that, she stopped by to pick Wade up on her way to church. His grandfather never looked happy about it, but he didn’t stop her.
Once Wade got over the miracle of someone going against his grandfather, he paid attention in church. For some strange reason, Edith saw potential in him when no one else did. Of course, he knew right from the start that he’d eventually disappoint her. No one could make themselves believe something they naturally didn’t. Oh, he might have believed in God back then, but—like now—he just couldn’t believe that God was of much use to anyone in this world. Frankly, Wade didn’t trust Him.
The sheriff grinned. “Edith is some woman.”
Wade nodded. “She’s a force of nature, all right.”
However, with the state of his bank account, he didn’t have time to walk down memory lane.
“The problem is that you can’t just pay me to follow someone around,” Wade said, bringing the conversation back to what he needed to say. “Unless I’m in danger of getting shot, the county won’t want to sign the check. They keep the safe stuff for their own people even if it means overtime.”
Carl’s face flushed. “About the money—the county doesn’t exactly have a budget that—”
“Aww, man.” Wade looked across the table at the closest thing he had to a friend. “You’re joking, right? I drove all the way up here and you’re telling me there’s no money to pay for the job.”
By now Carl’s face was red, but he was sticking to his request. “Hold on. There’s money. It’s just coming from the city of Dry Creek instead of the county.”
“When did Dry Creek become a city?” Wade glanced around in bewilderment. This café hadn’t been here when he was a boy. Well, the building had been here, but it had been empty. There might be a couple of more houses behind the hardware store. And he heard they’d painted a mural on that old barn outside of town, hoping to get some tourists. He supposed it was progress, but—“It hasn’t grown that much, has it?”
“We don’t need to be big to have money.”
“Enough to hire me?”
“Of course, you. We don’t want a stranger poking around. And, if you’re here, you can spend a few days at your grandfather’s place. He’s the only family you’ve got. Besides, he’s having a hard time and it’s Christmas. It’d be nice if you visited him.”
Everything froze. Then Wade reached for his wallet. He’d pay for his breakfast and be out of here. “Christmas is just another date on the calendar as far as I’m concerned. If going to see my grandfather is part of the deal, then Dry Creek will have to find someone else.”
“Now, don’t be a fool,” Carl said when he saw Wade’s wallet. “I’m paying for breakfast. I know how it is when you can’t work. And you’re at least entitled to gas money for driving up here.”
The sheriff pulled a wad of bills out of his jacket pocket.
Wade hadn’t seen that kind of cash in months. “Don’t tell me you carry that much money around. Is that the Dry Creek money?”
Carl flushed as he laid the well-worn bills on the table. “We don’t have a checking account yet.”
A suspicion started growing in Wade’s mind. Those bills hadn’t come fresh from a savings account, either. “Have you ever done this before? Collected money to hire someone?”
Carl was quiet.
“Well, that really settles it. I don’t take charity,” Wade said as he pushed back his chair. Pride was about all he had left and those bills told the story. Someone had passed the hat for him and he didn’t like it. “You can tell everyone that I’m doing just fine.”
The two men glared at each other for a minute.
“You can tell them yourself,” the sheriff finally said. “If you’re too stubborn to take honest work—”
“What’s honest about it? I’m not going to follow some woman around just so you can give me money and make me think I earned it.”
The sheriff’s face softened. “It was either that or I’d have to deliver a carload of casseroles to your front step. You know the people around here help their own.”
Just then the door to the café opened. Wade looked up and saw the red-haired woman walk into the room. A leather bag swung from her shoulder and the faint smell of some floral perfume swirled around her. As she took a few steps, he could see he’d underrated her looks. Her delicate porcelain skin was rosy from the cold and her auburn hair curled around her face, reminding him of a Botticelli angel with a halo. No wonder the people here wanted her in the Christmas pageant. She was like a picture in some museum.
And then she walked closer and he knew he was mistaken. She was too alive for a museum. Or any celestial gathering if it came to that. He’d never seen a woman like her. Her copper hair was spiked instead of curled like he’d thought at first. And her nose was slightly crooked. She wasn’t the angel at the top of a Christmas tree; she was the angel who’d fallen just far enough off the top to be interesting to a flesh-and-blood man like him.
It was a good thing he was sitting down, because he felt a weakness in his knees. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t hit his head in the fight six months ago. He felt a little faint and his heart was acting up. But all he could do was gawk at her like the boy he used to be when he’d lived on the edge of this small town. That same feeling of watching his dreams from afar would pass, of course, but it annoyed him all the same. He didn’t deal with dreams anymore in his life.
Chapter Two
Jasmine felt her breath catch. Who was that man? He stared back at her for a few seconds before looking down at his coffee cup. In the moment she met his eyes she could tell he had something to hide. At least that’s what it must be because he went pale at the sight of her.
For a second, she wondered if he recognized her from prison. She’d told the people around here that she’d spent time in jail, but she didn’t want someone from her past to come and remind them of it. Not when she was trying to be a normal woman instead of an ex-con.
She stood still as she looked at the man more closely. He had a fine-looking face, one she was sure she would remember if she’d seen it before. A dark growth of whiskers covered his chin and his moss-green eyes studied the pattern in the checkered tablecloth. His blue flannel shirt and jeans were both well-worn, too, as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. And he had a black Stetson hat sitting on the chair next to him.
If it wasn’t for the way he held his coffee cup, she would think he was a new cowboy heading out to the Elkton Ranch. But he held his cup loosely. Her old boyfriend, Lonnie Denton, had held his cup that way when he wasn’t sure what he’d need to do in the next minute or so. He said it gave him options. He could grab the cup and use it as a weapon or reach for the knife he kept in a sheath against his arm. He’d been proud when he explained that to her and she’d been sufficiently young and foolish to be impressed.
Jasmine mentally shook herself. She couldn’t fall apart every time a suspicious-looking man came to town. She needed to leave her past behind if she expected others to forget it. And—most importantly—she needed to stop thinking about Lonnie. He was locked up tight in prison. He couldn’t get out and, even though he’d always been unstable, she couldn’t believe he would send someone to spy on her just because she’d sent him a pamphlet about heaven in the mail. Granted, it had been a colossal mistake; she’d known that when he had sent her that postcard in response. But that should be the end of it. She had a new life to live.
She looked at the man’s sleeve in front of her. She couldn’t see the outline of a knife sheath.
“I—ah—” Jasmine started to say and then stopped. She’d forgotten that her voice was raw. It sounded sultry rather than raspy, but her throat was sore all the same.
“Here. Let me get you some coffee,” Carl said as he reached over to a nearby table and grabbed a clean cup. “It’ll make your throat feel better.”
Jasmine had been practicing her songs for the Christmas pageant a little too much lately. She’d taken a leap of faith a few weeks ago and pledged her life to God. She’d been half surprised lightning hadn’t struck through the church roof on that day. In a burst of gratitude, she’d signed up to be the angel in the pageant.
She owed God big-time for taking her in. Doing the angel role wouldn’t be enough to repay Him, but maybe it would be a start if she did it in some spectacular way. She was considering fireworks. Nothing too loud, of course, but maybe a sparkler trailing behind her as she swung over the audience would add pizzazz to the role.
She accepted the cup the sheriff filled from the carafe and sat down in the chair he pulled out from the table he shared. Then she took two long sips of coffee.
When she’d been at the hardware store just now, she had picked up her mail. She was half afraid she’d get another postcard from Lonnie, but all she’d received was an invitation from the sheriff and his wife.
“Tell Barbara I’d love to come to dinner tonight,” she said after she swallowed a gulp of coffee.
The people of Dry Creek had really taken Jasmine to their hearts when she volunteered to be in the pageant. Of course, she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that she’d never seen a Christmas pageant, let alone been in one before. Growing up, her mother had avoided churches and the only thing marking the season in their apartment had been a silver aluminum tree that was perpetually bent at the top.
The sheriff nodded at her proudly. “Dinner’s going to be great. Barbara’s got some fancy holiday menu going. She’s been baking all day.”
Jasmine swallowed. Things like that made her realize what she’d missed. Too much of her life had been lived behind bars when other women made Christmas dinners for their families. Not that she could afford to forget all that she’d learned. She opened her mouth to tell the sheriff about knives in sleeves.
“I’d like you to meet Wade Sutton,” the sheriff said before she could speak. “He’s a friend of mine—grew up around here. He’ll be coming to dinner tonight, too—I hope.”
The sheriff looked at the other man as he spoke and Wade gave him a slight nod.
Just then Jasmine placed the name. What a relief. “Why, you’re the angel! I’ve heard about you.”
The man slouched in his chair.
Jasmine hesitated. Maybe there were two Wade Suttons. This man didn’t look like someone who would play an angel. He didn’t even look like someone who would smile at the baby Jesus, let alone proclaim His holy birth from the rafters of the old barn. Of course, she’d heard the man was a private investigator, but that didn’t mean he had to scowl all the time.
When she had heard the angel everyone talked about was coming to Dry Creek, she hadn’t expected someone so solidly…well, male. Now that she was sitting, she could see the snug way his jeans fit along his thigh. Maybe he still had his leg in a cast that she couldn’t see because of his jeans. No one had that much muscle, especially not someone willing to fly around on a rope. He shifted his leg slightly and she realized she was staring.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just I thought you’d look more like a ballet dancer. Because of the angel thing.”
He shot her an incredulous look. “I was eleven.”
She felt the heat of his indignant glare all the way down her spine.
“It’s nothing. I was just wondering what kind of legs you had when you used those pulleys. Of course, your legs weren’t so—so—” Jasmine felt herself blush. She hadn’t blushed in years so she cleared her throat. “Well, the point is people are still talking about when you made your swing overhead. You had to be graceful. And your legs—well, I thought maybe you did something special with them as you made the swing. You know—the way you pointed your toes. That kind of thing. Really, I was just hoping you could give me some tips.”
She didn’t want to mention the sparkler idea. But even a clue as to the real part the angel played would be welcomed. Jasmine couldn’t believe that all she was supposed to do was wave her wings over the shepherds and say a few words. Everything was too plain. She was coming to know a God who parted the seas and thundered from the rocks. He wouldn’t have announced the birth of His Son without some drama.
“I didn’t have much sense back then,” Wade finally said reluctantly. “You should ask someone else for help.”
“Oh.” Jasmine said. He must have done something very special if he was so closemouthed about it. But, if he wouldn’t tell her anything, how was she supposed to give a performance that surpassed, or at least equaled, his?
There was a moment’s silence.
“How’s everything at the hardware store?” the sheriff finally said a little too cheerfully. “I bet they’re doing good business even in these hard times.”
“I don’t know.” Jasmine didn’t want to show her disappointment in Wade’s response so she was glad the sheriff had started a new conversation. She turned to look at him. “There was a sale on nails. No one was buying, though.”
“Things will pick up,” the sheriff added. He seemed to be struggling with his words, although she couldn’t imagine why. “People just need to be patient in these hard economic times.”
Jasmine nodded. The pastor had asked for prayer for the store last Sunday. “I buy as much as I can there.”
She tried to do everything that was mentioned in church, including the things that cost her money.
The sheriff turned a little more so she could see his face even though the other man couldn’t. Then he winked at her. “There’s no need to say anything to the people at the store about the hard times—they might be embarrassed.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Carl,” the other man spoke out. His eyes were smoldering and his jaw was clenched. “You don’t need to warn people not to say anything to me. Everybody knows I’m the one who is supposed to get the handout. The people of Dry Creek just can’t leave well enough alone.”
Jasmine wondered how anyone had ever thought that man could be an angel. He might not even be suited to being the innkeeper, and that role was written for a surly actor.
“You should be grateful someone cares enough to help you.” Jasmine refused to listen to any complaint about her friends in the church here. They were perfect—every one of them.
Although, she had to admit, they might have misjudged on this one. The man before her didn’t look like someone who needed a handout. She had pictured him with the watery, timid eyes of someone who was ashamed of needing help. Instead, he almost bristled with pride. And, here she’d contributed six perfectly good dollars to the collection for him.
“I haven’t taken a handout since I was a kid,” the man said, and then pressed his lips together. “No reason to start again now.”
“Well, I’m sure you can work enough to earn it if you want,” Jasmine said. “There are still some parts left in the pageant. King Herod, for one. And you could coach me if you would just unbend a little and relax about it.”
The man grunted. “Unbend? You should be worrying about things breaking instead of them bending. The church should get one of those mannequins to swing around up there for an angel.”
Jasmine blinked. “A mannequin can’t proclaim anything.”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s your funeral.”
He wasn’t suggesting it was dangerous, was he? She’d seen the pulley system; it was sturdy enough to swing an elephant across the barn.
The man’s face didn’t change, but he did lift his coffee cup for a drink.
Jasmine bit back her words. He was nothing like she’d expected. She wondered if God had sent him to her as some kind of a test. She secretly thought God should be a little choosier about who He let into His family, so she couldn’t fault Him if He wanted to see what she would do when provoked.
“Wade here is Clarence Sutton’s grandson,” the sheriff finally said in the silence.
Jasmine summoned up a polite smile and looked at the man. “You must be staying out with your grandfather then.”
“Not likely.” The man’s eyes flared for a second and then turned cold.
Apparently that scowl ran in the family along with his rather anti-social attitude. No one could accuse the elder Mr. Sutton of being neighborly, either. He lived next door to her father and the men had feuded for years. Still, Jasmine kept the smile on her face.
“He’ll be spending the night at my place,” the sheriff injected smoothly. “I expect he’d like to see some of the countryside while he’s here, though. I figure he might as well drive out and pick you up for dinner. If that’s all right?”
The sheriff smiled again.
“Oh, he doesn’t need to do that.” She wanted to talk to the man about the role of the angel, but she could do that in a few minutes. She didn’t need any more time with him than was necessary, especially since he was so disagreeable. And arrogant. A man like him would probably think he was on a date with her if he drove her anywhere.
“You can’t be riding that motorcycle at night,” the sheriff continued. “I’d have to ticket you for not having your backlights working and Barbara would be upset with me. It could ruin the whole dinner. Besides, it might rain. Riding with Wade will at least keep you dry.”
Everyone was quiet again.
“I might be able to borrow Edith’s car,” Jasmine finally said. Ever since Edith had gotten married for the second time, she didn’t drive her old car very much. Sometimes the car wouldn’t start right away, but Jasmine could get out and push it until it did if she had to.
“I can drive you,” Wade said, and then added, “It’d be my pleasure.”
He didn’t sound like it would be his pleasure and that made Jasmine feel better. It definitely wouldn’t be a date if neither one of them wanted it to be. And it was a cold night to be pushing a car. Maybe the test God was sending her was to see if she had the sense to stay out of the rain.
“I guess it’d be okay,” she agreed.
At least the man didn’t have bad breath or anything. And he nodded like he was a sensible person when he wasn’t scowling. He might not want to tell her how he’d managed to give such a spectacular performance in the pageant, but if he sat next to her long enough, he might say something about it out of sheer boredom since she didn’t plan to put any effort into making conversation with him.
The sheriff beamed at her. “I’m glad you stopped by. It reminds me that I need to invite Edith and Charley, too. Barbara wanted to have the two of you and another couple to balance out her table. Some notion she got watching Martha Stewart on television.”
“Oh.” Jasmine set her coffee cup down on the table. If the sheriff’s wife was watching good old Martha, Jasmine needed to find a hostess gift before she went. She was sadly lacking in homemaking skills, but gift-giving was something important in prison, too, so she’d learned the value of that. “Well, I’ll see you later, then.”
Wade watched the woman flee from the café before he turned back to his friend. “Are you happy now? You’ve pretty much scared her away, making her think she’s agreed to be a couple with me.”
“Oh, she’d never think that. The women have her paired up with Conrad.”
“Conrad?” Wade frowned.
“Nelson,” the sheriff added. “Edith’s his aunt now that she married Charley.”
Wade remembered a kid by that name. He came to town during the summers to visit the Nelsons. Wade didn’t think much of a man who relied on his aunt for matchmaking. “He doesn’t seem like much of a go-getter in the romance department.”
The sheriff snorted. “You should talk. I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger.”
Wade glared at his friend.
“Besides, I’m helping you set up your cover,” the sheriff continued like he hadn’t noticed Wade’s look. “Lonely grandson comes home to be with his grandfather for the holidays. I can hear the Christmas bells ringing already.”
“I don’t need a cover.” Wade gritted his teeth. “There’s no reason to follow that woman around. I’m going home tomorrow.”
Wade felt hollow the second he said the last. Who was he kidding? He never really thought of his apartment in Idaho Falls as home. His furniture was rented and all that the refrigerator ever held were takeout cartons and a few bottles of soft drinks and water. Half of the time he didn’t even get his mail before someone made off with it, not that he had much to steal except pizza flyers and catalogs. All of which had been fine with him until he spent a few hours in Dry Creek again. Now he felt an old stirring, telling him there should be more to a man’s life than what he had.
“I don’t know,” the sheriff said thoughtfully, and for the first time Wade saw real concern on his friend’s face. “If she hadn’t gotten that postcard last week, I wouldn’t be worried.”
Wade waited for more, but nothing came.
“Nobody dies from a postcard,” he finally said.
The sheriff looked at Wade for a minute. “You remember Lonnie Denton? Shot a gas station attendant in Missoula twelve years ago?”
Wade nodded. “Almost killed the kid behind the counter. All for sixty-two dollars and change. I know a couple of the officers that finally picked him up.”
“Well, Denton was Jasmine’s boyfriend.”
Wade whistled. He hadn’t seen that coming.
“It was the only job she pulled with him and she called the ambulance that saved the kid’s life,” the sheriff continued. “She still got ten years prison time, though. Just got out a year or so ago.”
That explained the walk, Wade thought. A woman had to be tough in prison.
“The postcard she got was from Denton.”
Suddenly, the sheriff had all of Wade’s attention. “I’m surprised they’d let him write to her—since they were in it together.”
“He used a fake name for her. But he sent it to Dry Creek and she knew it was hers. She picked it up out of the general delivery mail on the hardware store counter. She showed it to me right away. Told me she didn’t want me to think she was hiding anything. Said she’d sent him a pamphlet about the glories of heaven and this is what she got in return. I could see she was shaken, too. He said he’d see her soon.”
Wade was quiet for a minute. He didn’t like the thought of Jasmine worrying about the soul of a man like that. Not that he was overjoyed about the boyfriend angle, either. “I don’t suppose Lonnie is up for parole or anything?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I found out where he was doing his time and called a guy I know who works at the prison, the one west of Phoenix. He said Lonnie had a seven-year stretch to go.”
“I guess some people might say soon and mean seven years,” Wade said.
“Maybe.”
Wade had been an investigator for a long time. Partners in crime often stayed together. Something told him the woman was too perfect. She was trying too hard. And she was clearly nervous around him. All of that chatter about his part in that old pageant was probably just an attempt to distract him from her past. “How well do you know this Jasmine? Did you ever think maybe she and Lonnie are getting ready to pull another job and that’s why he wrote to her? Maybe she’s here to make plans.”
“Jasmine served her time.” The sheriff’s tone was final.
“She wouldn’t be the first one to be sent back to prison. Some folks find it hard to make it on the outside. Even getting a job can be a challenge.” Wade stopped. “She does have a job, doesn’t she?”
“She sure does. She works for Conrad in that mechanic shop of his. It’s only part-time for now, but she’s also keeping house for Elmer so she keeps busy.”
“Isn’t that convenient? Her working for her father and the man she’s planning to marry—”
“Oh, she hasn’t even gone out on a date with Conrad,” the sheriff said. “And, whatever you do, don’t tell the women I said they’re thinking in that direction. My wife probably shouldn’t have even told me. They don’t want to scare her off.”
Wade wondered what the women in this town thought it would take to scare a thief away from the full cashbox of a local business that was doing well enough to actually have employees. This Conrad fellow might not know it, but he was a target. Dry Creek wasn’t Wade’s town anymore, but he hated to see innocent folks being set up for robbery. He looked around. “I don’t see a cash register here. I suppose the waitresses keep the money in the back?”
The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re not accusing Jasmine of something.”
Wade shrugged. “I’m being careful, that’s all. Just because she’s out of prison doesn’t mean she didn’t do what put her there in the first place.”
The sheriff grunted and looked over his shoulder. “Just keep your suspicions to yourself. The women in this town will have my badge if they hear I let you get away with that kind of talk. Besides, Jasmine told me about the postcard. She wouldn’t do that if she was planning something.”
Wade picked his hat up from the seat beside him. “The real message Lonnie sent was probably in code so it wouldn’t matter if you did read it. And she probably figured you would find out about the postcard and she told you so you wouldn’t think anything of it. She was just playing it safe. That’s all.”
“But the people in Dry Creek like Jasmine.”
Some people had probably liked Al Capone, too. “Of course, they like her. Nobody plans a robbery by going around making themselves unpopular with folks. It attracts too much attention. People watch unfriendly people. They write down the license plate number for their car. They remember where they’ve seen them. No, nice is a much better cover if you’re up to something.”
“I think you’ve been in this business too long. Nobody is planning anything.”
“Does Elmer still have that fancy white Cadillac car of his?”
The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “That car is old as the hills by now. No self-respecting criminal would want to steal it.”
“Well, let’s hope not,” Wade said as he pushed his chair back.
“She joined the church, too, you know,” the sheriff added.
Wade nodded. That’s just what someone would do if they wanted to gain people’s trust, but he couldn’t say that to Carl. His old friend had never been as cynical as he was. “I’ll bet she’s joined the choir, too.”
The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know that?”
Wade just smiled as he stood up. He’d seen some sheet music in the bag the woman had on her shoulder, but he didn’t mind looking mysterious to Carl. “Just doing my job.”
The sheriff and Wade walked out of the restaurant together.
The cold wind hit Wade in the face and he pulled his hat down a little farther over his ears. The sheriff nodded and walked to the side of the café where he’d parked his car. Wade had to walk in the opposite direction.
It had been a long time since Wade had been in the town of Dry Creek. Back then the homes all looked like mansions compared to the weathered old house on his grandfather’s farm. He’d spent his childhood feeling second-rate around the other kids here, especially at Christmas. His mother died when he was four and his father went to jail shortly after that, so the only one left to give Wade a present had been his grandfather.
Wade knew a gift was never coming, but it took him years to stop hoping. In the meantime, he was embarrassed to have anyone else know he spent his barren Christmases out in the barn while his grandfather drank himself into a stupor in the house. Maybe that’s why he made up stories about imaginary Christmas dinners he claimed his grandfather used to make for them.
Wade smiled just remembering. Every Christmas, he had gone out to the barn and planned the stories he’d tell the other boys about those dinners. He didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him so he climbed up to the hayloft where he kept his mother’s jewelry box and her old magazines. That’s where he found the picture of the coconut cake with raspberry filling that he said was his grandfather’s specialty.
Wade had made it sound so mouth-watering the other kids practically drooled; he’d even agreed to copy the recipe for Carl one year.
But now, looking around at the houses, Wade wondered if some of those kids wouldn’t have understood a hard Christmas. The town was very ordinary, maybe even poor. None of the houses were new and, even though each was set back from the main street with a fenced lawn, it was winter and no grass was growing. It felt strange to remember how he used to envy the kids who lived in these houses.
Fortunately, by now he knew a man could have a good life without a family. And Christmas passed just fine with a drive-thru hamburger and fries.
He shook his head slightly so the memory of the red-haired woman wouldn’t sit so clearly in his mind. He didn’t need to mess up his life by dreaming about her. She was like that coconut cake. Something nice to dream about, but nothing that was likely to ever come his way. He was glad the sheriff had tipped him to the fact that the women around here were planning for her to marry Conrad—that is, if the sheriff wasn’t wrong and she didn’t end up back in jail instead.
He stopped a minute; he didn’t like thinking of her in a place like that. Then he sighed. His radar was good. That probably meant she was guilty as sin. Fortunately, it must also mean the church going was only a façade. If it was, he would have more in common with her than he thought. Suddenly, he was glad he was picking her up for dinner. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know her a little bit better. Maybe she wasn’t as much of an angel as she wanted people to think she was.
Chapter Three
Jasmine pulled the white curtain back from the kitchen window and looked out at her father’s farm. She wished she could just forget about Wade Sutton. The view out this window usually soothed her. Late-day shadows made the deep red barn look almost black. Even though it was winter, there was very little snow. Behind the barn, a mixture of dried wheat stalks and tall weeds spread over the slight hill. Night would be here soon, but she could still see well enough.
Just looking out that far made her eyes feel restful after being in prison for so long. There were no concrete buildings or search lights in sight. Unfortunately, what her eyes kept coming back to was the new post on the hill. She could barely see it in the gathering dusk, but she knew it rose up in the area to the left of the barn where the barbed-wire fence trailed up the hill.
Most of the wire fence on Elmer’s ranch sagged comfortably, but that particular section was stretched tight and kept in good repair. He said he wanted the divide clear between his land and the Sutton place.
Her father was a stubborn man. Clarence Sutton was another.
Several weeks ago, Clarence’s old donkey had wandered out of its barn, down the road and into her father’s lane. The animal had probably been looking for something to eat, but her father believed his neighbor had deliberately sent the donkey over to do mischief. Clarence, he said, always knew where his animals were and the donkey had a reputation for biting people. It had taken a bucket of oats to lure the donkey back to her barn and Clarence hadn’t even come out of his house to say a proper thank-you.
Last week, in retaliation, her father had dug a hole and put a twelve-foot metal cross on the top of the hill that divided the two ranches. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, today he’d taken several heavy-duty electrical cords and ran them from the barn up to the cross so he could wrap strands of Christmas tree lights around it. Now, in the evening, he could walk out to the barn and flip a switch and the cross would flash with white and yellow and clear lights. It would all look like a big golden cross that some televangelist would use.
Jasmine shook her head as she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see her father walk into the kitchen from the living room. He was wearing jeans and a dark denim shirt with snap buttons. His white hair was plastered back and he had a look of glee on his weathered face. “Time to turn on those lights.”
“Maybe you should wait and talk to Mr. Sutton before you do that,” Jasmine said. “He might not like them and—”
She’d told her father she was going to dinner at the Walls’, but she hadn’t told him she was being picked up by Wade. The way her father fumed about that donkey of Clarence’s, she doubted he’d be any more welcoming to the man’s grandson. If everything stayed calm, though, there was a chance her father wouldn’t see who was driving the car. He might just assume it was the sheriff behind the wheel.
“I’m celebrating Christmas. If old man Sutton doesn’t like the lights, he can just look the other way.” Her father picked a jacket off the coatrack by the door. “I got those special outdoor bulbs and I intend to use them—outside where they belong.”
It suddenly struck Jasmine that the reason the people of Dry Creek might be so excited she was in the pageant was because they hoped she’d work a miracle between these two men. Maybe she should give it a try.
“It’s not right,” Jasmine declared when her father had his hand on the doorknob. “Christmas should bring people together. Decorations aren’t something you use to annoy your neighbors.”
Elmer turned to her. “Of course, Christmas brings people together. That’s why I put the thing up there. Besides, an old sinner like Sutton should get down on his knees instead of complaining about Christmas anyway.”
“You’ll be using a lot of electricity with those lights.” Jasmine tried a different argument. She didn’t want to hear another list of Mr. Sutton’s shortcomings. “And they’re not energy-efficient bulbs.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do with my money than pay the electric company,” Elmer said as he opened the door. “I’ve already bought you that Christmas present and you won’t take the rest.”
Cold air came into the room.
“I’m practicing poverty,” she said. She was working on all of the attributes of the Christian life. She’d found a pamphlet and she was targeting the hardest ones first. “I don’t need more money.”
Elmer had started to walk through the door, but he turned around to look at her. “That’s why I’m buying you—”
“I don’t need jewels, either,” Jasmine added quickly. Her father had shown her the picture of a ten-thousand-dollar diamond-and-ruby necklace that he said he was buying for her. Ten thousand dollars! She hoped it was an empty promise.
“Every woman needs jewels,” Elmer snapped back. “It gives her security. I should have given some to your mother. And my wife, too.”
With that, he stomped out into the darkness.
Jasmine looked up at the clock on the wall. She didn’t want to argue with her newly found father again tonight. She knew it was guilt that was driving him and she’d have a hard time making him understand.
She didn’t care what holiday it was, real people didn’t wear necklaces like that. Not unless they wanted thieves to buzz around every time they walked out of their houses. Besides, she wanted to walk by faith. Her father was wrong; a woman wasn’t pushed to have as much faith when she had that many diamonds hanging around her neck.
She’d have to talk to her father later just to make sure he understood. In the meantime, Wade would be here in five minutes. She had planned to do a quick check on her lipstick so she stepped to the oval mirror hanging in the hallway.
She didn’t know why she was making such a big deal of her appearance since this wasn’t a date, but she wanted to look her best. Not that Wade would care if she wore a brown paper bag over her head. Her hand stopped. She wondered if she was guilty of the sin of vanity.
She sighed. She’d never thought there were so many pitfalls in the Christian life. Trying to make oneself worthy of God’s acceptance was not easy. People kept saying God didn’t care if she was an ex-con, but she just didn’t see it that way.
Jasmine took her perfume bottle out of her purse before she realized. Of course, that was it. It was amazing that she hadn’t seen it. No wonder Wade didn’t offer any friendliness. She was an ex-con. He was a lawman. He probably saw them as oil and water; sin and righteousness—good and evil.
Well, that was probably best for both of them.
She went ahead and sprayed perfume on her wrists. She was determined to be like the other women in Dry Creek and she looked to Edith for inspiration. The older woman wore rose-scented perfume, so Jasmine kept with a light scent. Since Edith wore dresses, Jasmine had bought a couple of plain shifts at a thrift store in Billings. She no longer wore clothes with much color and she kept her shoes sensible.
Jasmine had started to go back to the kitchen when she saw headlights flash through the window. At least her father was still out in the barn. Hopefully, he’d stay out there until she was gone.
She pulled her coat off the back of a chair where she’d placed it earlier. Her coat was the one thing she hadn’t been able to replace yet. Oh, well, she thought as she turned to the kitchen door, it would have to do. She shouldn’t care what Wade thought about the way she dressed anyway.
Wade wondered what was wrong as he drove up to Elmer’s house. On the drive out here, he’d thought nothing had changed in the decades that he’d been gone. The land was just as dry as it had always been and the gravel road had as many ruts. But he’d barely gotten out of Dry Creek before he saw a glowing light in the distance. When he turned off the main road to go down Elmer’s lane, he saw that someone had put what looked like Christmas lights on a cross standing on the hill that divided Elmer’s land from his grandfather’s place.
Wade wondered why anyone would bother with lights way out here in the middle of nowhere since not that many people drove down this county road. The one person who would see the cross most often would be Wade’s grandfather. Those lights must shine right in front of the porch where his grandfather sat every evening about now.
Wade started to chuckle as he stopped his car in front of the house. So that was it. The cross would make his grandfather crazy. No doubt about it. The two old men had never gotten along. They must still be going at it.
The back door to the house opened and Wade saw Jasmine standing there. The day had grown darker and light streamed out the door behind her. Her red hair was spikier than it had been earlier and her black leather coat had what looked like metal rivets along the sleeves. She stood there a minute and Wade almost wished he could keep an eye on her like Carl wanted. Guilty or innocent, she was definitely his kind of woman. It would be a pleasure to watch her awhile.
He sat there, just enjoying the sight of her when—without any warning—a gunshot ripped through the silence. Wade looked over at Jasmine. She seemed frozen in place. With all of the light behind her, she made a perfect target.
“Get inside!” he yelled.
The sound of the shot had come from the north, so Wade bent down and drove his car as close as possible to the doorway where Jasmine had been standing.
“Lose the lights,” he ordered when he saw they were still on in the kitchen. He didn’t want someone shooting at the windows. He wondered if Lonnie had a problem with Jasmine and had sent someone to—
He shut off his car and opened his passenger door. Then he folded himself down and slid across the seat, stopping to pull his gun from the glove compartment as he passed.
Another shot rang out. That one sounded like it came from the direction of his grandfather’s back porch and Wade relaxed a little. His grandfather was probably just shooting at a coyote or something. But a wise lawman didn’t assume anything.
The night was dark and now that Wade’s car lights and the ones in the house were off, he had to rely on his memory as he tried to sprint to the kitchen door. He hadn’t run anywhere since he’d started therapy and his whole leg was throbbing in protest.
Wade twisted the knob and opened the door.
He stepped into the dark kitchen and something soft wrapped around his neck.
“A-a-rgh,” he gurgled in protest. The only light in the room was an illuminated clock that hung on the wall and it didn’t make anything but itself visible. The band around his neck loosened and he could tell it was an arm encased in leather.
He leaned back a little, preparing to make one of his defensive moves, when he realized he was settled into a womanly softness that was kind of nice. He was breathing better and, now that the lights were off, there was no reason to move. Besides, he could smell the perfume.
Maybe he got a little too comfortable in the dark leaning against her, because she whispered suspiciously. “Is that you?”
Now how did a man answer that? “Depends on who you’re expecting.”
He felt Jasmine shift her body as she took a step backward. Unfortunately, she didn’t warn him and his body twisted to go with her. A muscle cramp in his leg seized him and he could hardly breathe. He clenched his teeth to keep from hissing in pain.
A small glow of light entered the room. Jasmine had reached back and opened the refrigerator door.
“Are you all right?” she asked now as she moved away from him slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said hoarsely as he reached out to put his gun on the counter so he could massage his thigh. Now he could see why no one wanted to hire him until he’d conquered his leg spasms. He wasn’t healing as fast as a younger man would. If a killer had been in the room, Wade would have been helpless to stop him.
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said as she moved closer.
The pain was leaving and in the light coming from the refrigerator he saw her misery. In the darkness, her eyes were pools of worry. He reached out and brushed her cheek, thinking to comfort her. “Who taught you about that defense hold anyway? You’re pretty good at it.”
“My old boyfriend, Lonnie,” she whispered.
He could feel her breath on the back of his hand and it sent shivers down his spine. Then she looked up at him. She was beautiful. Without thinking, he bent his head down. She raised herself up on her tiptoes. He dipped farther down. He knew they were strangers and it was only the relief she was feeling that drew her close. But he was going to kiss her anyway. He just wanted to look at her a second or two longer before he did.
Then, without warning, the kitchen door opened with a crash.
Wade lunged toward his gun. He barely felt the pain in his leg, because of the panic inside. He’d grown soft. He’d assumed his grandfather had been behind the gunshots, but this wasn’t the old man. He and Jasmine were going to die and it was all his fault.
“It’s okay,” Jasmine said quickly.
Wade thought she was talking to him until he saw the man in the doorway more clearly. Even with all of the shadows, Wade recognized Elmer as he stood there, looking ready to do battle, with a barnyard shovel in his hands.
“You all right?” Elmer asked as he flipped on the overhead light switch.
“We’re fine,” Jasmine answered as she stepped a little closer to Wade.
Elmer arched back like an attack cat.
“Who’s he?” he demanded.
The older man didn’t sound the least bit friendly, and Wade couldn’t blame him. He carefully moved his hand away from the gun on the counter.
“He came to take me to dinner,” Jasmine explained.
“He needs a gun to do that?”
“No, of course not.” Jasmine took a step away from the counter as though she’d just realized a gun sat there.
“I’m sorry to disturb—” Wade began.
Then Elmer’s fierce scowl disappeared. “Why you’re little Wade Sutton! I haven’t seen you since—”
Elmer stopped and had the grace to look flustered.
Wade nodded. “Since the day my grandfather drove my dad and me away with enough shotgun blasts to rattle the entire county. As I recall, you were mending fence and had a first-row seat.”
When he was fifteen, his father had come back from prison. He had lasted two weeks on the farm before he had a knock-down fight with Wade’s grandfather. When his father left, Wade had gone with him. He’d never returned to the farm, not even to see if the new wheat he’d planted that spring had yielded the harvest he’d expected.
“Well,” Elmer murmured. “You were a good kid even if you and your friends were messing with my Cadillac.”
“You knew?”
Elmer grinned. “I could hardly blame you for wanting to sit inside. That Cadillac was something back then.”
Wade relaxed. He was glad the man didn’t ask about his father. But then everyone in Dry Creek must have heard his father ended his crime spree in a shoot-out with the police a few months after they’d left the farm. It was the day Wade had turned sixteen and he’d begged his father to take him along. He was so glad to have his father back, he would have gone anywhere with him. His father had refused, saying he wanted Wade to stay on the right side of the law and have a decent life.
“Your grandfather always did try to solve his problems with a shotgun,” Elmer continued. “I figure that’s him shooting at the cross. I saw one of the lights go out so he must have gotten off a good one.”
If the shooter was aiming at the cross, it had to be his grandfather. At least that meant it wasn’t someone like Lonnie Denton. “You’ll have to report it to the sheriff.”
“Can’t be anyone but your grandfather,” Elmer said as he studied Wade again. “The only set of lights coming down the road was yours. It’s too dark out for someone to drive in unannounced.”
Wade nodded. He supposed that was true, too.
“I’ll give the sheriff a call after you’re gone. No point in putting it off. I already unplugged the lights and your grandfather never leaves his porch until the seven-o’clock news comes on the television.”
Wade remembered. Nothing gave the old man a better excuse to drink than the problems of the world.
“Yeah, well, I guess we should be going.” Wade noticed that Elmer was still taking his measure. Not everyone in Dry Creek would trust a Sutton these days, even if they were willing to take up a collection on his behalf.
“You take good care of my daughter,” Elmer said.
Wade looked at Jasmine. Her face was flushed. He wished he’d kissed her even if her father had been crashing in the door. It probably would be his only chance and he’d always regret not tasting her lips.
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
Elmer grunted.
“He’s just giving me a ride,” Jasmine continued. “I have some special lights on order for my motorcycle. I can’t drive it at night until I get them.”
Wade wondered why she didn’t just say she was suffering his company because the sheriff had forced them to ride together. Carl was probably laughing his head off about it right now.
“You shouldn’t be driving that bike at all,” Elmer sputtered. “A lady should ride in a car. If you don’t like driving my old Cadillac, I have a Bentley in the garage, too. And a few others.”
“I do fine with my motorcycle,” Jasmine said as she spread her hands. “I don’t need things. Not in my new life.”
Wade grunted. He wasn’t about to ask any questions just now, but he did wonder what story she’d spun for Elmer. Everyone wanted things. He didn’t trust someone who said otherwise.
“I’ve got my car outside,” Wade said as he reached over to pick up his gun from the counter. He moved his leg again and grimaced in pain.
“Here,” Elmer said as he held out a hand.
Wade took the help to steady himself. So this is what he’d come to, he thought. Depending on others like he was an old man.
“I forgot you’d damaged your leg,” Elmer said. “That’s why you can’t work.”
Wade tried to push the pain away. It was like he figured. Everyone knew about his problem. “I can get a job. Soon.”
“Well, until you do—I put in twenty bucks.”
Wade forced himself to give a short nod of thanks. He didn’t want to have to explain to every person in Dry Creek why he couldn’t take their charity. Maybe he’d ask the pastor to put a notice in the church bulletin offering to return the contributions. Maybe then they’d leave him alone.
“You need to take care of your leg,” Jasmine said as she led the way to the outside door. She picked up a small jar of jam that was sitting on the counter.
“Hostess gift,” she announced proudly.
Wade nodded. For someone who wasn’t into things, she sure knew how to spread gifts around. It was probably what made people think she was so sweet.
He picked up his gun and followed her to the door only to look back at Elmer. Apparently, Wade wasn’t the only one feeling a little down. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”
The old man didn’t say anything.
Wade opened the car door for Jasmine and she slid inside. They were at the gate leading to the main gravel road before he decided he had to know. “So was everyone there when they passed the hat for me?”
“Uh…”
“I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” Wade looked straight ahead. The heater was going in his car and the dials on the dash were lit up. There was nothing but darkness outside the car.
“You should take the money anyway.”
Wade looked over at her. He couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness.
“You could consider it a Christmas present if you want,” she added.
“If the people here wanted to give me a Christmas present, it would be socks.” Wade suddenly remembered the many pairs of socks he’d gotten as a boy from the people in the church here. Sometimes, he’d also get a shirt or a jacket, too. Maybe that’s why the money stung so much. He’d already received so much from these people. The kids might have believed his stories about the Christmas presents his grandfather gave him, but the adults knew better. They probably even knew there hadn’t been any cake or turkey or apple stuffing.
“If they wanted to give me the money, they could have at least asked me to dig a ditch or something. That’s honest work,” Wade muttered half to himself. “I can’t see where they think following the Christmas angel around could be anything at all.”
“What?”
Wade heard the surprise in her voice and could have kicked himself. He was not himself tonight.
“They wanted you to follow me?” she asked.
“I could be mistaken,” Wade said. “I—ah—it might have been one of the wise men.”
Jasmine wasn’t paying any attention to him. “I can’t believe they’d ask you to follow me. What do they think—that I’m going to steal from somebody?”
“Oh, no,” Wade said. Now he’d really done it. “The sheriff made it very clear that no one suspects you of anything. I was to protect you.”
“From who? I can take care of myself.”
Wade didn’t know how to answer that. “The sheriff had a hunch. That’s all. He’s worried about Lonnie.”
“Lonnie’s in jail.”
“I know.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“I don’t need anyone to follow me around,” Jasmine repeated. “I’m trying to start a new life and be a regular person—”
Wade had the alarming feeling she might cry.
“Well, don’t worry,” he said. It was the only comfort he could offer. “I’m not doing it.”
“I should hope not,” Jasmine said, and that was the last conversation they had until she pointed out the turnoff to the sheriff’s house.
Wade knew he was leaving tomorrow, but he didn’t want anyone to be upset when he did. Especially not Jasmine. He’d been stealing glances at her all the way down those lonely roads. He had the shadow of her profile clearly in his mind. He told himself it was in case he ever needed to pick her out of a lineup, but that wasn’t it. He stole another glance at her. He just wanted to remember her.
“If you ever get down around Idaho Falls, be sure and give me a call,” he found himself saying. “We could maybe have dinner or—”
She turned to look at him indignantly. “You don’t have to ask me out. Or follow me. Or anything.”
“Okay, well—” Wade knew when to step away from the firing line.
“Thanks anyway,” Jasmine said, none too politely. “It was kind of you to offer.”
It was crazy of him to offer, Wade figured. But he’d done it anyway. He supposed it was just because, back in the kitchen, he’d felt some emotion stirring. It was probably all that talk reminding him he’d once been the angel. He’d put that experience completely out of his mind. Who wanted to remember the time they’d mortified themselves in front of everyone they knew? But maybe some vestige of it had clung to his soul anyway.
He pulled the car to a halt in front of the Walls’ house. The windows were decorated with Christmas lights and tall wooden candy canes lined the path up to the front door. Light and laughter spilled out the windows.
Even when he’d been in the pageant, he’d dreaded Christmas. Wade wondered if he was ever going to be on the right side of the holiday. He glanced over at Jasmine. He wondered if she knew she had a frown on her face as she marched up the sidewalk to the house. Then he realized he had one, too.
At times like this he wished he had someone to arrest.
Chapter Four
Jasmine had lost what little Christmas cheer she had. She was sitting on the sofa in the Walls’ living room with a glass of cold spiced cider in one hand and a piece of stuffed celery in the other. Carols were playing on the stereo system and she’d just let her misery overflow to Edith, the only other person in the room. The older woman was sitting next to her on a straight-backed oak chair.
“Oh, dear, no, we’d never pay someone to take you out,” Edith protested.
“Not take me out,” Jasmine corrected in the whisper she’d been using to tell the story. “Follow me around.”
“Oh, Wade wouldn’t do that. Goodness, no. You must have heard him wrong.” Edith’s short gray hair was tightly permed and her waves shook along with her head. She had a worried look on her kindly face and her white magnetic necklace hung above a red checked housedress in an attempt at seasonal fashion. “Besides, Wade isn’t the man we have in mind for you anyway.”
“You have someone in mind for me?” Jasmine looked around to be sure no one else had walked back into the living room. It sounded like they were all still in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on that coconut cake.
“Well, just Conrad. You know he’s a sweet man. A little shy maybe, but…Of course, it’s just a suggestion. For when you’re ready to date.”
“I don’t need to date anyone,” Jasmine said firmly. She supposed a husband like Conrad made sense given the fact that she wanted a regular life. But somehow the prospect seemed a little suffocating right now. Of course, he was a good mechanic. She liked that, but—“No one needs to worry about me. Maybe Wade can do whatever he’s supposed to do with someone else.”
“Yes, well, maybe. I thought he was going to help the sheriff, though,” Edith conceded as she rubbed her hand around her wrist. “Maybe he could be a security guard at the barn now that we’re setting up the stage. With the pageant being this Monday—”
“Do you want an aspirin?” Jasmine asked. Everyone knew the older woman suffered from arthritis on cold evenings. Her wrist must be hurting.
Edith shook her head. “I’ll be fine. And don’t worry about Wade. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“He said he’d rather dig ditches than have anything to do with me.” Jasmine didn’t realize how peevish she sounded until she saw a spark of interest light up her friend’s eyes.
“Not that I want him to,” Jasmine added firmly. “He’s just a test from God anyway.”
Edith looked a little startled. “In what way?”
Jasmine wished she’d left that last part out. “Oh, you know, old feelings.”
She’d already decided that, when she’d almost kissed him in her father’s kitchen, it had just been because of the rush of adrenaline that had raced through her after the gunshots. It was a natural response. Guns always made her nervous these days. It had nothing to do with the way Wade’s eyes made her feel. Or the way the line of his chin looked so strong. Or—
“I don’t know that God sends us people as tests,” Edith said gently, interrupting her thoughts.
They were silent for a moment, Jasmine taking a sip of her cider and Edith taking a drink from the glass of water by her side.
“I must admit Wade’s a handsome man,” Edith finally said. “I can see why you’d be interested.”
“I’m not—”
Edith just kept going. “The problem is that he has it in his head he can’t really trust anyone. He refuses to even have a partner on the job. Until he does, I can’t see him being married. Not happily. And he doesn’t have much use for God, either. I blame myself for that.”
“You?” Jasmine set her glass of cider down. “How can it possibly be your fault?”
“I should have taken him to live with me and my husband. It wasn’t good for him to rattle around in that house with his grandfather. The man wasn’t even sober most of the time. He would have given the boy up for a case of cheap wine. I thought a couple of times of making him an offer, but I kept hoping things would get better. How could a boy, living with someone like that, trust anyone?”
“He looks like he turned out fine.” Jasmine offered what comfort she could.
“Yes, in some ways,” Edith said slowly. “Carl says he’s got a spotless reputation. Determined and smart. He never bends the rules. Always by the book. Other lawmen look up to him.”
Jasmine swallowed. She wondered why a man like that had been tempted to kiss her.
“He’s a good boy,” Edith finished. “Even if he hasn’t answered the letter I wrote him about his grandfather.”
“It sounds like Mr. Sutton cooked some grand meals in his time.” Jasmine grabbed at a new topic like a lifeline. She’d been in the kitchen earlier when Barbara had been asking Wade about the cake his grandfather used to bake. The raspberry filling apparently had orange flavoring in it, too.
“That cake is the very reason I should have taken Wade in. I knew back then it was too good to be true.”
Just then a burst of laughter came from the kitchen.
“Sounds like they’re having fun,” Jasmine said.
Edith nodded and started to stand up. “No point in us sitting out here when the excitement’s in there.”
Wade was holding the frosting spoon in his hand, feeling like a fraud. Carl’s two kids had taken Charley outside to see their kittens and he and Carl were standing at the center counter in the kitchen. Two round circles of white cake sat on wire racks. A bowl of raspberries sat beside them.
Carl’s petite, dark-haired wife, Barbara, said she’d followed Carl’s crumpled up old recipe as best she could but that she had waited for Wade to get there to assemble the Christmas Fantasy Cake. He’d been dumbstruck that she’d baked it.
“You say your grandfather found the cake in a magazine?” Barbara was asking as she turned the bowl of icing slightly. She was standing at the side counter so she’d have room to move around the cake. “I hope that you don’t mind that I named it. Did your grandfather call it anything special?”
“All I know is there was a picture of it in Good Housekeeping.” Wade remembered his mother’s magazine like he’d been holding it yesterday. It was the one thing in the whole story that was true. He wondered how he was going to carefully unravel his lies without destroying Barbara’s enthusiasm. “My grandfather really wasn’t much of a cook.”
“Well, maybe not every day, but on Christmas. Uhmmm,” Carl said with a smile as he looked down at his Barbara with love in his eyes. “I used to spend half of Christmas thinking about Wade over there eating that cake. I wished my mother’s fruitcake was half as good. And then I found you and you made the cake for us.”
Carl gave his wife a quick kiss. “You’re a great cook.”
Wade felt hollow. “I may have exaggerated the cake back then.”
“I wondered how you got the fresh raspberries for the filling,” Barbara said with a smile. Her face was pink with pleasure from the kiss she’d received. “Carl insisted they had to be fresh, but all I could find was frozen.”
Just then Edith and Jasmine walked into the kitchen.
Barbara turned to Edith. “Do raspberries grow wild around here at all? I know the chokecherries do and I’ve heard of some wild strawberries over by the Redfern place.”
Wade knew he was in trouble. Edith had been inside his grandfather’s house. The top of the stove had always been piled high with empty liquor bottles. She must know the stories of cake and turkey dinners had been false. His grandfather could barely make toast. Wade had lived on peanut butter sandwiches and the bruised apples his grandfather bought by the case from a wholesale place in Washington.
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