Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3) (2 page)

“And?”

“He told me that if it was so much fun, for me to do it, and he wished that
I
would go somewhere and not give him any more grief.”

Colt dragged a palm down his cheek.

“Since it was clear that I was getting nowhere with him, I told him that his attitude was very disappointing, said goodbye to him and Priscilla and walked away. As soon as my back was turned, he raced out from behind a row of shirts, screaming something about always disappointing people, and flung himself at me.”

Colt stifled a groan. Though Brady did have a temper when he was riled, it was hard to imagine him actually
attacking
someone. Surely Miss Grainger was exaggerating.

“I wasn’t expecting to be assaulted,” she said, the look in her eyes suggesting that her temper just might be on the rise again. “I lost my balance and fell to the floor. My head just missed a counter, but I fear my hat was not so lucky. It was knocked off in the fall, and the hatpin almost ripped the hair from my head.”

So that was why the strand of hair was hanging loose!

“My spectacles fell off, too.”

Her voice rose as she listed her grievances. She held her palm toward him, showing a tear in her glove. “If I weren’t wearing gloves, I’d have splinters in my hands from trying to catch myself. As it is, one of them is ruined.”

Colt ignored her ruined glove. His attention was caught by the anger that had returned to her eyes during her recounting of the story. This newest fiasco was worse than he’d imagined, but how could he be sure she wasn’t embellishing the tale for her own benefit?

“And where was Cilla while all this was happening?”

“Standing to the side smiling, as if the whole thing were vastly amusing. Then she walked over as if she planned to help me up and deliberately stepped on my glasses
and
my hat. It was new,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Whoa, now! Colt knew his kids could be ornery. They were not the kind of children who were seen and not heard, and they were certainly not the kind adults seemed to find endearing, but these accusations were beyond anything he’d been told before.

Talking back and playing practical jokes on occasion was one thing. Not good habits, to be sure, but still a far cry from the physical harm of which Miss Grainger was accusing them. Colt clenched his teeth, a muscle in his cheek knotting as his own resentment mounted.

“Now see here, Miss Grainger,” he said, leaning forward and pinning her with another fierce frown. “Those are pretty severe allegations. How can you be so sure that what Cilla did was deliberate? Did you stop and consider that maybe it was an accident?”

Miss Grainger looked positively incensed. “Not deliberate?” she cried, leaping to her feet. “When a person looks you in the eye and saunters along as if they haven’t a care in the world, and makes certain that you can see everything they are doing, I would say it is deliberate. So, severe or not, my accusations are true, Sheriff Garrett. What happened was in no way an accident.”

Colt pushed to his feet. Once again, they glared at each other over the expanse of his desk. “Maybe you just don’t like my children,” he said.

“And maybe you are so busy making excuses for them and being the big bad sheriff and single man about town that you are blind to their faults. Children need parents invested in their lives, Sheriff Garrett. They need boundaries. They
ache
for boundaries. Perhaps you should try being a father instead of a friend. They need to be brought up, not just allowed to grow up.”

The indictment had the ring of truth that hit Colt like a blow to the solar plexus. “Now, just you hold on a minute! You’ve gone too far.”

“On the contrary,” she retorted. “I’ve not gone far enough. Consider this a warning, Sheriff Garrett. Either you get your children in hand, or I am leaving Wolf Creek.”

“What?”

“L-e-a-v-i-n-g. I’d rather resign my teaching position than deal with your children for another year.” She stalked to the door, wrenched it open and turned in the aperture. “I expect you to have my spectacles replaced at your earliest convenience. And a new hat and pair of gloves would not come amiss.”

With that, she slammed the door behind her.

Colt watched her stomp down the walk, conflicting emotions darting through him. Anger, guilt and worry for certain. And just a hint of something he couldn’t put his finger on. It felt a little like grudging admiration.

* * *

Shoulders back, chin high, Allison stalked down the street and turned the corner. Only when she was confident she could no longer be seen from the sheriff’s office did she release the fury, uncertainty and misery that had driven her to a showdown. Waves of self-reproach swept through her.

With a little groan of shame, she ripped off her damaged glove and used it to blot at the tears that slipped down her overheated cheeks. She had acted in the most amateurish way possible. Never in her life had she talked about and accused children the way she just had! The fact that what she’d said was true did not give her license to indulge in such an unladylike, unprofessional and
peevish
manner.

A sound that resembled a strangled laugh escaped her. Dear sweet heaven. Had she really left Colt Garrett with the ultimatum that he gain control of his children or she would quit her teaching position? She’d been fortunate to land her position in Wolf Creek, and she had no idea where she would go or what she would do if the sheriff called her bluff.

Never mind calling your bluff. When he tells the mayor what happened and word gets around town, you won’t have to quit—you’ll probably be fired.
The thought was like a slap in the face. What parent would want a woman with so little control instructing the town’s children? She gnawed on her lower lip and dabbed again at her eyes. There was no helping it. She must confess to the mayor what she’d done before he heard it elsewhere.

Her shoulders slumped in dejection. She liked it here. She didn’t want to leave, though she’d spent much of the past few years moving from place to place after begin jilted by her lifelong love. Growing up a pleasingly plump redhead with freckles had not been easy, not when her sisters, Belinda and Ellie, were both not only pretty, but also sweet and good. Though everyone said Allison was just as delightful and nice, when compared her to her beautiful sisters, she had always come up short, feeling as if she were somehow a shoddy replica, second-rate and inadequate.

Her sisters were exotic hothouse orchids; she was the spinster, the wallflower—her name for herself—the one who went unnoticed or was asked to do the tedious tasks no one wanted to undertake. She was the one asked to watch the children while others indulged in the entertaining activities. She was the one to pick up the slack wherever or whatever it happened to be.

She found scant consolation in the knowledge that the dictionary said that the upright, woody stems of wallflowers gave them strength, resiliency and tenacity, enabling them to thrive on cliffs, rocks and walls. Though many would consider those wonderful traits, they were hardly the qualities men found attractive.

Ellie and Belinda were beautiful; Allison was robust. Ellie and Belinda were accomplished in many areas; Allison was adequate. Except when it came to her vocation. At teaching, she excelled.

In fairness, her sisters had done their utmost to try to make up for the unfair comparisons, and Allison felt no hard feelings toward either of her siblings...at least not once she gained adulthood and was able to put her feelings of inferiority into proper perspective.

Jesse Castle had been her anchor, her friend, her playmate, her other half since they were children. A bit of a bookworm himself, he’d understood and accepted and loved her for who she was, not for how she looked. They’d been just two months from their wedding day nearly ten years ago, when he’d taken her aside and told her that he was terribly sorry, that he loved her dearly, but that he was not
in love
with her. He had fallen for pretty, vibrant Callie Boxer, who’d come to spend the summer with her grandmother. He wanted to make his life with her.

Allison hadn’t been just shocked; she’d been devastated. Shamed. Embarrassed. Since childhood, everyone had taken it for granted that she and Jesse would marry and spend the rest of their lives living out a happily-ever-after fairy tale.

Feeling his rejection as if it were the weight of the world, she had cried the entire summer and shut herself off from everyone but her family. She’d spent her time at the park or a hidden corner of the parlor reading Miss Jane Austen’s novels over and over—which infuriated Belinda, who claimed doing so was comparable to wearing a hair shirt.

In many ways, the stories were painful to read, but at the same time a tiny part of her battered heart clung to the nebulous hope that perhaps someday she might find the happy ending she so desired.

Feeling that her only chance at marriage was gone and harboring the outlandish notion that she could run from her heartache and shame if she only ran far enough, Allison mapped out a course for her life that would satisfy her as well as give her something at which she excelled. Something that would enable her to provide for herself and thus to need no man.

She would become a teacher. The best teacher ever. Through the years she had moved from job to job and town to town in an effort to put distance between herself and her heartache, only to realize that it followed her wherever she went.

She hadn’t exactly blamed God for what had happened, but she wasn’t on the best of terms with Him, either. Then, a couple of years ago, Belinda had grown weary of Allison’s refusal to let go of the past and had taken her to task for continuing to
wallow,
as she so indelicately phrased it, in her unhappiness.

She’d said that yes, Jesse was a nice enough young man, but he had not been perfect, nor had God thrown away the mold after creating him. There were thousands of men out there just as kind, just as understanding, and equally willing and capable of loving her. And, she’d added, there was one special man out there who would sweep her off her feet and make her forget Jesse Castle ever existed. Furthermore, Belinda told her in no uncertain terms, Allie should be thankful that she had not married Jesse and
then
discovered that he didn’t love her as he should.

Belinda also lectured at length about how Allison clung to her grief, using it as a shield to protect her from further hurt, and how she refused to allow the Lord to work in her life to ease the pain of her loss and bring her peace.

Belinda believed that Allison had adopted the notion that if she didn’t allow joy and happiness into her life, it could not be snatched away from her again. Her sister had finally convinced Allison that she should embrace life and everything it had to offer, even if it did cause occasional hurt. Experiencing down times, sorrow and pain, only made the good times sweeter.

Allison had taken her sister’s loving counsel to heart. With much prayer and the Lord’s help, she had changed her attitude, not only about embracing life, but also with regard to her own shortcomings. She took inventory of herself and realized that while she was no great beauty, she had nice, though unremarkable, features and was at the very least passably nice-looking. There was not much she could do about the color of her hair or its unmanageable curls, but she could brush and pin it into subjection. She was intelligent. Kind. Patient. And loving.

She’d made peace with the possibility that perhaps it was not her lot to marry and have children of her own, but as a teacher she had the opportunity to mold and influence dozens of young lives. She felt she was on her way to contentment at last.

Then, just over a year ago, her prayers had brought her to Wolf Creek. She was thrilled to be near her middle sister once more, and for the first time in years, she was enjoying life. She loved the rolling hills around her, loved her work, and she felt as if she’d made lifelong friends. Abby and Rachel Gentry, Gracie Morrison and Lydia North had become her closest friends. They shared fears, confidences and hopes and dreams. Widowed or spinsters, or like Ellie, uncertain of their status in life, their friendship benefited them all.

And now she might have ruined everything.

Realizing she had arrived at the mayor’s office, Allison paused at the door, her heart heavy with remorse and humiliation. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through Homer Talbot’s door before she lost her nerve.

The mayor started to rise but stopped halfway out of his chair. Even through the fog of her nearsightedness, she could see the shock on his face. Remembering that she must look as if she’d been dragged through a knothole backward, she lifted a hand to tuck the hair behind her ear and push back the drooping rose. Then she attempted to smile without bursting into tears.

“Hello, Miss Grainger,” the mayor said, rising fully and eyeing her from head to toe. The expression in his eyes was wary, but his tone friendly. “What can I do for you this fine summer day?”

Allison drew herself up to her full five feet, one inch. “There was an...incident with the Garrett children at the mercantile earlier, and I wanted to come and tell you the straight of it before you hear something that isn’t true.”

“I see,” he said with a frown. “Have a seat.”

* * *

Half an hour later, she stepped inside Ellie’s open door and let her gaze move around the café. Without her glasses, everything looked soft and fuzzy, as if she were peering through a fog. She squinted in an effort to bring things into focus, but even without her glasses it wasn’t hard to spot familiar faces. Mousy Grace, plain and tall and all angles with a smile to rival an angel’s, and Ellie, exquisitely proportioned and with a face to match, were engaged in a serious conversation at the back of the dining room. Almost as one, they looked up and saw her in the doorway.

“You’ve already heard.”

“Sarah VanSickle was here,” Ellie said, moving toward her with open arms and an expression of sympathy.

Allison’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “So much for Sarah’s vow not to indulge in any more hurtful gossip.”