A Family for the Holidays (4 page)

An inheritance? The ramifications socked him in the gut. Vic didn't want to erase his debt, he wanted a new influx of cash. All the pieces instantly made sense: Emil was missing. His grandchildren were the beneficiaries of an inheritance. Lily Winter was the only thing standing between the boys and someone who might take advantage of them.

He'd underestimated the depths of Vic's depravity and played right into his hands as the villain of the piece.

Carefully considering how to regain Lily's trust, Jake took a cautious step forward. “If the sheriff is on his way, why don't you give me the gun? Your breathing is too shallow. You'll faint again if you don't calm down. We'll wait for him together.”

“Don't patronize me. Stop playing the charming gentleman and go back to being an outlaw.”

“Lily, we both know the sheriff isn't coming to your rescue. You can't hold a gun on me forever. You might as well let me go.” He took a step closer. “There's another stagecoach this evening. If you're worried about the boys' safety, then leave now. Take them far away from here.”

“Stop treating me like I'm a simpleton.” Her gaze darted around the cavernous warehouse and landed on him once more. “You must have a reason for wanting me on that stage.”

“You're not a simpleton. You're right to be cautious. But you've stumbled into the middle of a dangerous situation. I don't want you hurt.”

Her stance lifted the floodgates on his past once more. She'd put herself in harm's way for the boys unless he prevented her.

“I don't understand you.” Lily's arms sagged and the barrel of the heavy gun tipped down. “Why didn't you take the boys when I fainted?”

“Think about what you're saying, Lily. I'm not the one you need to fear.”

“Tell me something. Anything. Give me one reason why I can trust you. Those children need their grandfather. I need to go home. I'm begging you, let me have one piece of proof that gives me a reason to believe what you're saying.”

“I don't have any proof. Not yet.”

She drew herself up to her full height, as though a scant inch made any difference. “Then we're at an impasse.”

“There is one thing.”

Lily glanced at something behind him and panic skittered across her face. “Look out!”

Pain exploded in his head. Jake pitched sideways. His legs weakened and collapsed beneath him. Landing on his back, he stared at the face hovering over him.

Sheriff Koepke clasped a shovel in his fisted hands. “This fellow will be spending the next few weeks in jail, miss. He won't be bothering you anymore.”

“You can't arrest him,” Lily protested. “He hasn't done anything.”

“You were holding a gun on him. He must have done something.”

“We were, uh, we were only talking.”

The blow had knocked the strength from Jake's limbs. His hands and feet tingled and his vision dimmed. After clumsily flipping him onto his stomach, the sheriff secured his wrists with metal shackles.

The sawdust itched Jake's nose. A pair of delicate half boots drifted into his vision. A lock of her hair dusted his cheek.

“Did you have to hit him that hard?” Lily exclaimed softly. She touched the knot forming on the back of his head. “You've knocked him senseless.”

“That was the idea, missy.”

“What's the charge?” Panic coated Lily's voice. “Why are you arresting him?”

“Don't you worry your pretty little head. We got this all taken care of. Found some stolen goods in this man's rooms over at the saloon. He'll be locked up tight for a good long time.”

Nausea rose in the back of Jake's throat and his head throbbed. They'd set him up. There was nothing in his room but a saddlebag and a change of clothes. The sheriff jerked him upright.

He stumbled and Lily steadied him.

“You can't do this,” she said. “He was going to help me.”

“You'll have to find someone else. This fellow is gonna be busy helping himself.”

She smelled of lilacs and her eyelashes fluttered like butterflies. He'd been mired in the job too long. There was so little good left in the world, he'd forgotten people like Lily existed. She was the whole reason he'd become a US marshal. If something happened to her, he'd be to blame.

Sheriff Koepke dragged him toward the door, a difficult task given the disparity in their sizes. A kind of rage Jake hadn't felt in years welled inside him. He would be trapped in a jail cell for the foreseeable future.

Lily pressed her fingers over her mouth. “I'm so sorry. I thought you were lying when you said he was following me.”

“I know.” The images at the edge of his vision shimmered like mirages. “Forget about Emil. Take the children back to St. Joseph.”

“I can't. He's their grandfather. They don't have anyone else.”

The sheriff heaved him onto the street and he glanced over his shoulder. Lily clung to the door frame.

She'd never survive in Frozen Oaks alone.

Chapter Four

T
he sight of Jake being dragged away to jail dominated Lily's thoughts. The snow had ceased falling and sunlight glinted off the fresh layer of white. The restaurant was empty, the fire down to embers. The siblings remained huddled over their checkers game.

She had no doubt Jake was many things, but he certainly wasn't a thief.

He'd known from the start she'd never shoot him. He could have turned the tables on her at any time. Though he was the obvious suspect in the disappearance of the children's grandfather, she'd changed her mind about him after their last encounter.

Why had he urged her to leave instead of taking the upper hand? Why not abscond with the boys when she'd fainted? He'd had a second opportunity when she'd held a useless weapon on him.

She folded her arms on the table and buried her head in the circle.

Events had transpired too quickly, and she hadn't considered all the separate details. Something was off, but she'd been too determined to prove she wasn't naive orphan Lily to notice. She'd seen that odd mixture of regret and longing in the outlaw's eyes before the sheriff had hauled him away.

She'd come to rely on the constants in her life. The barn swallows that nested beneath her window each spring. The familiar lonely ache in her chest each Christmas Eve. The smell of coffee brewing each morning. She'd never been able to wake fully without coffee, a trait she'd inherited from her father.

She stretched out her arms and cupped her hands around the steaming cup before her.

The coffee grinder she'd left back at the boardinghouse was her most treasured possession. As soon as she was old enough to reach the counter, the job of brewing had fallen to her. The one thing that had made her feel part of the family. She'd pour a measured scoop into the top and crank the handle. Then she'd open the tiny drawer and inhale the scent of fresh-ground beans. The aroma was inexorably intertwined with memories of her family. She'd never been able to separate the two, though she'd desperately tried.

Sam exclaimed victory and kinged a checker piece.

She needed a plan. She needed action. She needed an escape from all the drab autumnal colors oozing from the hotel parlor into the gloomy dining room.

Peter turned toward her. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don't know yet. But don't worry. I'll think of something.”

The sheriff had jailed the gunfighter before he'd revealed his evidence. Either way, she'd removed Jake from her list of suspects in Emil's disappearance. Despite Vic's and Regina's attempts to frighten her, he'd never once exploited his advantage.

A part of her had thought Emil might return. They'd been delayed on their arrival; who was to say Emil hadn't been delayed by the weather, as well? But with more days come and gone, her hope was dwindling. Which left her with one option: return Sam and Peter to St. Joseph and to the guardianship of the judge. And yet something held her back. She wasn't prepared to declare Sam and Peter orphans just yet. Her stomach clenched. They deserved better.

Vic appeared in the dining room and an insidious sense of misgiving gripped her. When he smiled, the pink of his gums contrasted dramatically with his white teeth and colorless pallor.

He sidled over to her table and flashed her one of his odd half winks. “May I join you?”

He kept his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his elaborate waistcoat. That single piece of clothing must have cost a fortune. Every inch of the expensive fabric was decorated with colorful, intricately embroidered peacocks.

“I'm afraid I was just leaving.” Lily sprang to her feet. Vic's obvious wealth should have excluded him from any interest in the inheritance of a couple of orphans, but he'd been awfully eager in turning her attention toward the gunfighter. “Please tell Regina how sorry I am that I missed her this morning.”

Though Lily doubted his attention was personal, she tossed in the reminder of his sweetheart. He struck her as the sort of man who preferred conquests to relationships.

“Certainly,” he said. “You seem agitated. Is something amiss?”

“Not at all. Except I wasn't given Emil's address since he was supposed to meet us at the livery.” She scrambled for an excuse for her abrupt departure. “Do you know where he lives? Perhaps the children and I can discover a clue to his disappearance.”

“What a curious little thing you are. If only you could stay longer.” Vic took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Emil owns the barbershop across the street. His rooms are on the second floor.”

Lily resisted the urge to wipe her knuckles against her skirts. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and, Miss Winter, you can catch this evening's stagecoach after all.”

Hope bloomed in her chest. “Then you've found Emil.”

“No.”

“I don't understand.”

“The sheriff has granted me temporary guardianship of the Tyler children.”

“He can't do that.” Her blood instantly chilled. “I don't understand. The judge in Missouri was very specific. The children are to be delivered to their grandfather.”

Vic splayed his hands. “You're in Nebraska now, Miss Winter. You're under the laws and jurisdiction of this state, not Missouri. That means the sheriff is the authority.”

Glancing at Sam and Peter's worried expressions, she offered a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “
Jurisdiction
seems like an awfully big word for the sheriff. Are you certain the change in guardianship was his idea?”

“Regina says you were being paid.” Vic reached into his pocket and retrieved a fat wad of bills, then licked his thumb and rested the pad on the top layer. “I'll settle the debt.”

She stumbled backward. “There's no need.”

“I insist.” He peeled off enough bills to cover Lily's salary for six months. “For your trouble.”

Sam stood and she gave a quick flick of her hand, urging silence. “That's very kind of you, but I'd be shirking my duties if I left the children.”

“Oh, dear.” Vic's pale lips turned down at the corners. “I'm not certain you have much choice, Miss Winter. You've involved the sheriff once already.”

She snatched the bills and clutched them against her stomach. She needed him gone, she needed time to think, and Vic wasn't leaving unless he thought he'd won.

“This is very generous of you.” She lifted her eyebrows toward Sam and Peter, willing them to follow her lead. There'd be time enough for panicking later. “A trip to the mercantile is in order. The children were well-behaved on the trip. They deserve a reward.”

Anything to stall for time and escape the hotel.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Winter. I hope you'll visit our little town again one day.”

“I doubt I'll be back.”

“You might be surprised.”

“My stay has certainly been filled with unexpected revelations.”

If he caught the implied insult, he let the discretion pass. Absently whistling a lively tune, he strolled from the dining room once more. As soon as he was out of sight, Lily shook out her hands.

Sam and Peter rushed forward.

“Are you leaving us?” Sam demanded. “Where will we stay?”

“I don't like him,” Peter said. “I don't want to stay here without you.”

Perhaps it was his odd pale coloring, but there was something about Vic that struck her as sinister.

“Don't worry.” Lily hugged them close. “I'll sort this out.”

With his peacock waistcoat and colorless skin, Vic would make an excellent villain in one of Peter's novels. She certainly didn't trust his motivations. There was no way the sheriff had come up with the idea of taking over guardianship. If the word
jeopardy
was outside of his vocabulary, he certainly wasn't throwing around words like
jurisdiction
and
authority
.

She mentally checked off the people she'd met in the past few days: Regina, Jake, Vic and Sheriff Koepke. For such a small town, Frozen Oaks sure had its fair share of shady characters. Last week she'd been fully prepared to leave the boys with their grandfather and return home immediately. After spending several days in this peculiar town, she'd grown reticent. Truth be told, she'd feel no better about leaving the boys and returning home if Emil walked through the door that instant. She certainly wasn't handing them over to Vic Skaar and his saloon-frequenting sheriff.

Sitting here stewing about her predicament solved nothing. “Who wants to go on an adventure?” Lily asked.

Her question was met with obvious enthusiasm.

She tucked the bills into her reticule. She didn't plan on keeping them, but she couldn't exactly abandon that amount of money on the dining room table either. Once outside, Lily directed them toward the red-and-blue pole of the barbershop. As she'd noted the day before, the windows were shuttered. The whitewashed storefront needed a fresh coat of paint, but Emil was probably waiting for better weather.

“What's this place?” Sam asked, unwrapping a peppermint.

“Your grandfather's shop. He's a barber. Did you know that? Apparently he lives upstairs.”

“My dad said he was a vagabond who couldn't stay in one place if his shoes were nailed to the floor.” Sam finished off the candy with a decisive crunch. “Can we go inside? I mean, I'd like to see where we're going to live.”

“The door is probably locked.” Melancholy stirred in her heart. Of course Sam and Peter were interested in seeing their new home. But was this their home? From the moment they'd stepped into Frozen Oaks, nothing had been certain. “I suppose there's no harm in looking.”

A narrow space between the buildings held a staircase leading up to the second level. Boot prints showed in the fresh layer of snow. They overlapped each other, as though a man had come and gone from the apartment.

Emil has gotten tangled in some trouble
.

All she had were rumors and gossip. She knew well enough the lack of truth they contained. She was poor orphan Lily after all.

“Hold the railing. The steps might be slippery.”

They traversed the narrow stairs and crowded onto the landing. She shook off her apprehension. Probably someone had come to check on Emil when he didn't open his shop. She touched the handle and the door swung open.

Before she could stop them, the siblings rushed inside.

Lily chased after them. “Wipe your feet. Don't track snow.”

The person who'd been here before them had not been as thoughtful. Footprints tracked across the wood floors. Crouching, she swiped at the marks. The melted snow had dried, leaving only dirt behind.

The space was neat and tidy, though sparsely furnished. The woodpile was well stocked, and Emil's belongings were scattered about. There was a pipe and a tin of tobacco along with a stack of newspapers. Though clearly occupied, the space was oddly impersonal. The rooms might have belonged to anyone, save for the feather Christmas tree sheltering a stack of gifts propped on a table in the corner.

The walls of her room at the boardinghouse were covered in drawings and postcards. The windows had been decorated with curtains she'd sewed. Even her floors were covered in hand-knotted rag rugs. While she recognized through her experience at the rooming house that men were less likely to personalize a space with their possessions, Emil's home felt cold and detached. There was certainly nothing warm and welcoming for the children.

Well, almost nothing.

The feather tree was the only touch of homey decorating, which was even odder still considering how early it was in the season. She'd never known anyone who put the tree out before December. After crossing the distance, she rummaged through the brown-paper-wrapped packages. The labels included both Sam's and Peter's name.

The two caught sight of her discovery and scurried over.

Peter held a package near his ear and shook it. “These are for us.”

Squinting, he held the box to the light streaming from the second-story window.

Despite the general lack of preparation for the arrival of two youngsters, their grandfather had, at least, bought them presents. Why purchase gifts and then abscond? Feeling guilty but determined, Lily riffled through a stack of books on the side table. She discovered several dime novels featuring Deadwood Dick on the cover. Deeper in the pile, a black-and-white cover displayed a tall man with a hat pulled low over his eyes. The title read
Gunman for Hire
.

While Sam and Peter explored the open kitchen on the far side of the room, she followed the path the tracks had taken into the small apartment. Once again the arrangement struck her as odd. Where did Emil suppose his grandchildren would sleep? There was only the single bed that hardly looked big enough for a grown man.

The trail ended before a bureau set along the far wall beneath a double window. She ran her finger across the top and came away with only the barest hint of dust. Uttering a brief prayer for forgiveness, she opened the top drawer. A handkerchief box, the lid open, rested in the corner. Several coins were scattered along the bottom.

The years slipped away and she was five years old again. Each night when her father returned from work, he had emptied his pockets of coins and dollars into a similar box. She glanced at the footprints once more. The intruder had known exactly what he was looking for.

Though rifling through a stranger's belongings went against her nature, she opened the second drawer and discovered a stack of folded blue handkerchiefs. Her heart kicked in her chest. She'd seen the same handkerchief before.

Lifting her head, she gazed out the window. Emil's bedroom directly overlooked the hotel and the boardwalk, where a wooden chair sat empty.

I like the view.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Jake's boots. Pointed tips. How could she forget? She'd stared at them propped on the boardwalk rail for nearly twenty minutes. The footprints in the snow had been square-toed.