Brighter Tomorrows (2 page)

Chapter Three

Callie had one big fearful question for the marshal. She had to know. She prayed it was a coincidence as she placed the utensils on the dining room table. Golden brown chicken and mashed potatoes sat in the warming oven while green beans simmered. She heard him come in and go into the parlor.

Brushing down the folds of her apron as she passed his Stetson and gun belt hanging on the hall tree, she entered the parlor.

He stood, feet apart, arms at his sides, and stared out the large front window. At the swish of her skirt, he spun around.

“Miss Lynch, good evening. I hope I haven’t rushed you.” His eyes lacked the previous sparkle. She missed that slight smile. Should she blurt out her question? Would he think her insincere?

“Good evening, marshal.” She gave a welcoming smile. “You didn’t rush me at all. Everything is ready, but can be kept warm if you’d enjoy a drink before dinner. I keep whiskey on the credenza for the gentlemen,” she nodded to the right, “so please help yourself.”

My stars!
That devilish gleam in those bright blue eyes accompanied by a cheeky grin held her spellbound. A lightning bolt couldn’t be more potent.

“Thank you, Miss Lynch. If you don’t mind, I prefer one after dinner—if I have one at all.”

Finding that he rationed his drinking surprised her…and satisfied her.

“That would be fine, marshal. I have no dessert to offer tonight unless you’d like an apple or canned peaches. So you may like that drink after dinner.” Dare she ask her question?

“Sounds fine, Miss Lynch,” he tipped his head. Their gazes locked and she had to inhale before she fell over. He seemed to stare into her hollow soul. She felt stripped naked, as if he could see how empty, bitter, hurt, and distrustful of being manipulated, as …

Defensiveness reared its head, instantly.  She had to shield herself. No one could know how vulnerable, how unsure of herself she really felt. Her sane existence depended on her portraying a strong constitution. No one would tread over her heart and soul ever again. That’s why she had come here three years ago. To find a new life, a new purpose; to be her own person.

“Marshal, you said your real name is Chase Matlock. Matlock sounded so familiar that all afternoon I tried to remember why. Am I correct that, a little over three years ago, just before I moved to Hallings, a woman by that name was killed in a bank robbery? It would have been—”

“Three years, four months and nine days ago to be exact, Miss Lynch.” His clipped words punctured the air like the jolt of a clashing cymbal. “What else would you like to know? You want details? I can give them to you. I—”

“Please, stop!” She pressed her palms to her lips. Her face ignited. She feared she might vomit. “I am so very sorry; I shouldn’t have been so forward and rude. Please, forgive me. I don’t usually—”

“Now, you stop, Miss Lynch.” He spoke with authority, yet surprisingly, he had not bellowed as she had expected. His jaw flexed, his hands fisted at his sides, and then fell slack. “I realize you were inquisitive, didn’t mean any harm.”

“It was none of my business. I apologize for dredging up bad memories.” Obviously, the woman
had been
a relative. Callie decided to say no more before she made it any worse. Thank the good Lord the marshal had controlled his temper.

“May I offer you that drink before supper, if I’ve ruined your appetite for now?” What an unfeeling, stupid person she’d become! She strove to maintain independence. She had no right to cause others harm or pain. Shame seemed to follow her no matter where she lived or what she did.  Always due to the same reason. Stupidity.  First, her naivety—pure stupidity—now, her inquisitiveness. Her mouth flapped before she thought through the entire matter. Would she ever learn?

He managed a faint grin. “Lead the way Miss Lynch. My appetite’s fine.”

Settled at the dining room table, they agreed to share a bit of their background. She  explained she’d lived in Virginia, lost her parents in a fire just before having a falling out with her beau—she almost stumbled on that toned-down, flippant version—and decided to start fresh elsewhere. Her brother—five years older—his wife, and two children lived in South Carolina and raised tobacco on his in-laws’ plantation.

“When I arrived in Hallings, I instantly felt drawn to its warm-hearted people and the size of the town—not too large, nor too small. I had money from selling my father’s business to last for a while before I’d have to find a means of support. The moment I saw this old place for sale—it was the old Bardwell Estate—with the apple orchards out back, I knew I had to have it. I couldn’t wait to rip into it, restore its beauty and charm, and open it as a boarding home. I never questioned my decision.”  His eyebrows arched and he cocked his head. She smiled.

“My father owned a lumber yard, but his passion and expertise was in carpentry.” She hesitated to reveal she enjoyed a man’s world. Then, she reminded herself to be proud of what she could do, what she enjoyed. “I followed him around from the time I could walk, carried a hammer as soon as I could lift it, and grew up being his right-hand man. I loved every minute.”

His grin had those blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve never met a lady carpenter.” His eyes canvassed the golden hickory wainscot, hardwood floors, hand-tooled crown moldings, and fine window casings.

“You restored this room…as well as the others?” He set his fork down and looked amazed at such a feat.

She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “I can’t take full credit. Tom Wallace is a hard working young man. He works at the hardware store, dabbles in carpentry, but he’s a handyman. Since he had a new wife and baby, he’d been looking for some extra money. I did most of the woodwork while he hauled lumber, sawed, nailed. We worked well together.”

He eased back in the chair. “How do you take in boarders if you’re always under construction?”

She grinned this time. “It took us a year to finish the first floor, other than my bedroom down the hall. It’ll be last. The upstairs I cleaned, painted, and furnished to suffice so I could open and start bringing in money. Now, I take one room at a time. Next year, I’ll tackle the last one upstairs.”

“You’re amazing, Miss Lynch. You do superior work. And it’s very relaxing and homey.  I wish you much success with your business and your home.”
Classy, but not so ornate that it overpowers.

“Thank you. I’m far from amazing, but I do feel blessed. I thoroughly enjoy cooking and making this my home, but most of all, catering to my wonderful boarders. I have the best friends in the world and the community here is close-knit and more like a family.” Seeing he had finished his chicken, yet had potatoes and vegetables, she retrieved the platter. “More chicken, Marshal?”

He laughed. “Don’t mind if I do.” He took another piece. “You continue to call me ‘Marshal’ and that’s fine here. But, if we’re in public, will it be difficult to call me Mr. Tate?”

“Not at all. It won’t be that often, but you can rest assured I’ll remember.”

“Good girl. I should fill you in on what’s goin’ on and who I’m workin’ with so you don’t have any surprises.”

She had no idea what those surprises might be. Maybe one of his men running through her home with guns blazing? She nearly laughed, yet found herself delighted to be part of the adventure. His “good girl” had her heart leaping and her face blushing.

“Not that I’m not eager to hear about your mission, because I am chomping at the bit to hear more. To an easterner like me, it’s more than thrilling. But you’re supposed to tell me about yourself, too.” She refilled their cups.

“All right.” He forked the last of his potatoes in his mouth and swallowed. “I’ll tell you about me first, and then you’ll understand more about my mission.” 

He set his fork down. “Not much to tell, really. During my last year at college for law and finance, my father died. My younger brother took over running our cattle ranch in Texas. When I graduated, I helped Jeff until he got his feet under him. Didn’t take long to realize I liked law enforcement better than ranchin’. I accepted the local sheriff’s position. Since a few investments I’d made started payin’ off, I bought a place in town, helped out Jeff when needed, and married my long-time sweetheart.” 

Callie heard the pride in his success and saw his satisfaction as well. The fact he wore no wedding band, had had a relative murdered here, and now, an instant later, glowered as if he fought to hold back his rage, hit her like a hurtling boulder. Suspecting who he’d most likely lost here, her breath hitched. She didn’t want to hear him say it.

Chapter Four

Discomfited, Callie hopped up. With trembling hands, she started stacking plates and silverware.

“Yes, Miss Lynch, my wife, Bethany, was one of the six victims who were shot and killed three years ago.”

Her chest felt as if it would burst. Praying for composure, for his sake as well as hers, she raised her bowed chin and nodded once.

She wanted to say so much, yet her tongue cemented itself to her dry mouth. She knew  the devastation and unbearable pain of losing a loved one. Their circumstances were different, yet so very alike. She never wanted to go down that path again— Couldn’t, and keep her sanity. 

Their woeful gazes met. She recognized his agony, suffered his anguish. She felt a bond form between them, much like kindred spirits; two wounded hearts and lost souls floundering in the cold, cruel world. Relating to him added to her torment. It reopened past raw wounds to sting anew. Inhaling deeply, she fortified her mettle and vowed to remain strong for him during his mission. She’d have time later to again lick her own reopened wounds.

She’d let him know she could relate to his loss. “You have my deepest sympathy, Marshal. I know what it’s like to lose one you’ve deeply loved, and I empathize with you. They say time heals all. You must give it time before you feel peace once more within your heart, and allow your soul to heal. Someone once said, ‘believe in the Lord and he shall help you set the world aright again’.”

“Yeah? Well he can’t bring my wife back—or our unborn child she carried. It’s taken me this long to stick to his trail like glue, but this time around, I’ll make it right. Amos Marten and his three misfits will never harm anyone again,” he said, his voice full of bitter conviction.

At hearing his added loss, his words blasted her heart, deep and painful. She needed to help him be strong. He desperately needed his faith restored, to reconcile with a past that could not be changed. “You can’t change the past, but you can learn from it, deal with it and then go on and strive to become wiser and stronger because of it.”

His mouth twisted wryly. “You’re a very wise, sincere woman, Miss Lynch. Did you ever contemplate preaching in your spare time? You could turn a few lost souls into God’s children.”

A retort stung the end of her tongue, ready and willing to spring free—

“Thank you,” he said with a tentative smile. “I meant what I said as a compliment. If I could be reminded of that more often, I might be able to see the brighter side of life.”

His words meandered over her like a gentle flowing stream warmed by the summer sun, his smile as intimate as a kiss.
Lord help me and keep me safe. This man’s smile could melt a rock into molasses.

“I’d be happy to remind you every chance I get.” She found it impossible not to return his smile. Yet, she’d not offer more than friendship. She only dared the most minuscule affection to any male. No matter how devastatingly handsome, well-muscled, or well mannered he might be.

♥ ♥ ♥

After Callie refused help tidying up after breakfast, Chase sat on the front porch swing finishing his coffee and gazed across the broad expanse of front lawn. A pretty white church sat across the street down aways. His gaze followed toward the town proper. Birds chirped their good mornings from tall tree tops as the early morning sun peeked through the wispy clouds and a faint breeze gave promise to temper the afternoon heat. Planting his boots flat against the floor, he pushed the swing leisurely back and forth. Four potted green leafy plants sat throughout the porch. The relaxing and peaceful ambience Callie’s porch offered lulled him. He liked the name Callie. It suited her.

The screen door creaked opened. “Dishes all done,” she said, holding a broom. Her eyes twinkled as she watched him swing.

“This swing is incredible. More comfortable than I thought. I haven’t enjoyed sitting and admiring such a peaceful morning in a very long time. Town has sure changed since I was here last. Please, come join me for the few minutes I have before I have to leave.” He stopped swinging, set his cup on the wooden stand and stretched his left arm out along the top of the swing.

She hesitated and gripped the broom tight. She resembled a mouse staring into the eyes of a big ol’ Tom cat. Chase still had his moments, dealing with his wife’s and unborn child’s deaths, but this lady had fears to beat all. Had she been abused? Or, did she just fear a man’s touch? Either would be a crying shame.

“I don’t bite. I don’t usually holler—much—and I’m not a molester. Does that help?”

“It’s me, not you. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said as a blush appeared. “Let me sweep the porch right quick and then I’ll join you.” She started sweeping. “Why were you here…last? You have relatives here?”

He was silent a moment.  Then, “We were visiting some friends in the area—I…haven’t been back here since then. And they’ve since moved away.”

“I see…”

Silence fell again, with the soft “whisk whisk” of the broom the only noise. 

“You always sweep your porch when there’s no more than a fine dusting?” Chase asked.

“Marianne claims I’m possessed with cleanliness,” she laughed, sashaying across the porch, making efficient sweeps. “I simply like things neat. Every morning, I set the porch to rights. It has to always look charming, homey and say a strong welcome to everyone.”

He scanned the two large clay pots at the bottom of the steps with their red and purple blossoms, the painted “WELCOME” sign to the left of the porch. Even the arched sign that read, “Apple Grove Inn”, attached to the front of the roof, greeted strangers warmly. She’d done an excellent job.

When she finished, she opened the screen, stood the broom inside, and joined him on the swing.  He again set the swing into a steady motion. When she relaxed and leaned back fully, the mere touch of her thick hair and back against his coat sleeve warmed his blood. Realizing she hadn’t flinched, he knew an inner satisfaction he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Everyone comments on this swing. It turned out better than I’d imagined.” She focused on the doves and pigeons pecking around the base of the big cottonwood tree.

“Do not tell me you made this.” Shaking his head, he glanced her way. He continued rocking back and forth. 

“All right, I won’t take full credit,” her eyes twinkled. “Clive Horner, our cooper, can bevel a stave to perfection in minutes. He slightly curved the staves where your backside sits for more comfort. Our blacksmith, Evan Burrows, made the wrought iron braces, the hooks and chains. I took them my plans, they did their part. I stained and varnished the staves, and then Tom helped me put it together and hang it.”

She was one smart cookie and an enterprising one at that.  “Y’all did an outstanding job. You’re a great team; you should go into business together and produce these.” His burdened heart lightened as she beamed from his praise. He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. The instant he felt her stiffen, he lifted his hand. His intent had been to let her know he offered no threat as well as… Well, hell, he came here to see Bethany’s killer apprehended, not to start something he would never be able to offer.

She acted as if nothing had happened. “We gave it some thought after several people commented on it.” She looked him in the eye and grinned. “If it comes to fruition, we may need an investor to get it off the ground. Do you think you might be interested, Mr. Tate?”

♥ ♥ ♥

When Chase burst out laughing, an infectious deep belly laugh at that, Callie joined in with him. The man’s hearty guffaws and smile could turn a nasty, grouchy, old biddy into kicking up her heels and asking for a dance. While she doubted she would ever trust another man with her affections, she, from the very first, appreciated his devilishly handsome face, and all the other attributes. She found herself extremely conscious of his virile appeal. And the blasted man had a sense of humor.
Well, shoot!
That made him twice as hard to resist.

Chase stopped the motion of the swing, stood and turned to her. “I better skedaddle. I don’t anticipate them before two or three days, but I can’t take any chances.” He reached for his Stetson. “And I don’t want to hold you up from your paintin’.” His wink sent a warmth scurrying through her.  He turned, made his way down the steps, and strode down the road.

She might live by the code to never take interest in or trust a man again, but she found herself admiring his vitality, and again, sensed some bond between them. Maybe it was the fact they had simply loved and lost. She needed to remember the pain, the insult, the sheer agony a man could cause a woman without a second thought.

♥ ♥ ♥

Lunch and supper passed with both relating the day’s events. Callie had finished the painting, and now concentrated on rearranging furniture and adding new draperies. Chase had reviewed plans and schedules with Sheriff Millet, Deputy Hollis, Matt, and several others. Though Callie flinched and worried over his casual “showdown” and what that might entail, they both laughed as he reenacted  how his young recruit had become moon-struck upon meeting Callie’s friend, Marianne Grover.

Callie lay in bed agonizing over the strange attraction. For years, she had resisted the pull to any man, no matter how handsome or how nice. So, why now? And why would she suddenly feel her heart yearn for a man who still loved his deceased wife? She wouldn’t repeat her mistake of believing she could take another’s place. When she punched her pillow, she cried, but no tears came. They never did.