Chapter Fifteen
Delilah breathed in the scent of flowers as she unpacked more of her garden treasures and set them around the backyard. Cinnamon pinks were just starting to bloom and their spicy aroma made her smile.
She’d just placed a birdhouse her father had made her for her sixteenth birthday on a wooden stand near the holly bushes she’d planted last month when Oliver scaled the fence and made his way into the yard through the limbs of the cottonwood tree.
The raccoon had been noticeably absent the last few days. With all the people there helping her move in and then rain falling the past three days, he’d stayed holed up somewhere warm and dry. He scuttled over to her and brushed against her side. She reached down and picked him up, rubbing his fur.
“Well, Ollie, what do you think? Do you like the additions to the yard?”
The raccoon gave her a look she couldn’t interpret then snuggled closer in her arms as she pet him.
Delilah stood and walked over to a wrought iron bench she’d had Seth help her position beneath the maple tree and took a seat.
Since the day Dugan had helped her move her things, she hadn’t set eyes on him. Instead of escorting her to the weather station as he always did, he must have made arrangements with his friends because whichever deputy was working the night shift came to walk her out there in the mornings. Tully and Seth had taken turns accompanying her the past few evenings.
She had no idea what she’d done to chase Dugan away, but she missed him. It had been obvious at dinner the other night he was miffed about something, even if she couldn’t put her finger on the cause.
In truth, when he opened his door wearing nothing but a pair of snug jeans, she’d been so discombobulated, she wasn’t sure she could have recalled her own name let alone the reason she’d gone to his house.
Muscles, sculpted and hard, drew her gaze from his shoulders to his arms then across his chest and abdomen to where he’d left his pants unbuttoned. She should have been offended at the impropriety of it all.
Instead, she was intrigued.
Fascinated.
Utterly mesmerized by the raw masculinity of the handsome man.
The overwhelming interest she held for Dugan Durfey was the reason she’d chosen to sit by Seth when they’d eaten dinner at the hotel. The more flustered Dugan behaved, the more she encouraged Seth’s attentions. It wasn’t even something she’d done with mindful intent. No, it was later, when she was tucked into her own bed with a soft feather mattress and smooth cotton sheets that she’d realized her behavior bordered on appalling.
For the first time in a long time, Delilah had rolled onto her side and cried for her mother. She needed a woman to talk to. A woman she could trust to listen to her and give her good advice.
Delilah knew she was playing with fire to encourage two suitors, especially when she still had no plans to wed. She admired, liked, and cared for both Seth and Dugan. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt either of them.
Seth was such fun, brimming with laughs and silliness.
Dugan was… Dugan. Full of life and energy, intelligence and wit.
She’d rather set fire to her garden and never sketch another bird than cause a riff between the two friends, but she had no idea what to do, other than ask them both to leave her alone. But she enjoyed their friendship too much to do that.
Clearly, she’d upset Dugan and couldn’t blame him for staying away. He’d been so kind to her, so generous with his time and efforts on her behalf. And she’d repaid him by flirting with his best friend.
One thing she knew for certain — moping around wouldn’t help or change anything. She needed to focus her attention on something purposeful, like finishing her flower garden.
She looked around the yard from a bird’s perspective. Open sky provided plenty of space for flying and playful chases. The cottonwood, maple, and elm trees offered enticing places to land and nest.
Bushes and tall grasses lined the back of the flower beds with shorter plants in the middle and ground cover near the front. Just off the back porch to the left, she’d planted a vegetable garden. Already, green shoots poked through the rich earth.
And along the eaves of the porch she’d hung containers with birdseed and sugar water. She’d already seen one hummingbird and hoped to draw many more in the coming months. By mid-summer, the yard would provide the birds with their own little paradise.
Delilah set the raccoon on his feet and stood.
“Come on, Ollie. There’s much work to do before we’re finished with the yard.”
She returned to unpacking the last of the statuary and birdhouses her father had sent. Nearly finished, she heard a squeak, like the front door opening, but didn’t give it another thought.
She watered the plants and gave Oliver a cracker from the tin she kept on the back porch, then brushed off her hands and once again surveyed the yard. For no longer than she’d been working on it to bring it to life, the garden was starting to take shape.
Pleased with her efforts, she opened the back door and walked inside. She stepped into the hallway, intent on washing up and combing her hair before whomever Dugan sent to escort her came to take her to the weather station.
Abruptly, she stopped. A man she didn’t recognize shot her a startled look before he lunged out the front door.
Heart pounding from surprise and fear, Delilah raced through the kitchen and out the back door and across the yard. She slipped out the side gate then picked up her skirts and ran to the sheriff’s office.
Taking the steps two at a time, she burst into the office to find Dugan alone at his desk.
He took one look at her face and rushed to her side. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“There was a man in my house,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath.
“Just now? Is he still there?” Dugan took a step toward the door.
“No. I saw him run out the front door when I came in from the kitchen. I was outside working.” She held a hand to her middle and willed the nerves roiling in her stomach to settle.
“You stay here while I go take a look.”
Dugan turned to go, but Delilah clasped his arm with both hands. “Please let me go with you. I don’t want to stay by myself.”
He nodded and took her hand in his, jogging toward her house. They approached from the back and went in the side gate. Dugan put his finger to his lips, indicating she should be quiet as he left her sitting on the bench beneath the maple tree while he crept up the steps and inside the house.
Through the open windows, she strained to hear the sound of his footsteps. Finally, she heard him walking across the kitchen floor before he pushed open the screen and stepped outside.
“You can come in now,” he said and motioned for her to join him.
Delilah set down Oliver on the bench. The raccoon returned to keep her company while she waited. She gave him a pat on his head then hurriedly crossed the yard.
“Please tell me the house doesn’t look like the weather station,” she whispered, afraid of what she’d find when she entered the house and walked toward the parlor.
“I don’t know if you caught him before he had time to damage anything, or if he found what he was looking for,” Dugan said as he stood at the parlor door.
Nothing looked amiss. Nothing was out of place. Nothing appeared to have been stolen.
Delilah thought of her mother’s jewelry that was in her bedroom and raced into the room. Everything looked exactly as she’d left it, but she pulled open a drawer in the dresser and lifted out a false bottom. Her mother’s wedding ring, a sapphire necklace, and a pair of pearl and emerald earbobs glistened in the afternoon light streaming in the window.
Dugan looked over her shoulder. “Glad he didn’t find those.”
“Me, too. They belonged to my mother. The necklace was my great-grandmother’s.” She stroked a loving hand over the jewels, replaced the false bottom in the drawer and pushed it shut.
“Why was that man here, Dugan? What does he want? Is he the one who broke into the weather station?”
“I’m not certain, but I aim to find out,” he said, stepping back into the hallway. “Look in the rest of the rooms and see if anything is missing. I’m gonna check around outside.”
He opened the front door and walked down the porch steps while she went to her father’s office at the back of the house. Papers were strewn everywhere and a smoky smell lingered in the air. She looked down at ashes from a cigarette that had been ground into the carpet.
“Disgusting, ill-mannered beast,” she said, going to the kitchen for her cleaning supplies. After scrubbing the ashes from the carpet, she gathered the papers and tried to discern what the man could have possibly been searching for. The papers included everything from weather maps and patterns to reports and a few research articles her father had been working on for the past year.
“Find anything?” Dugan called as he walked down the hallway.
“Yes, in Papa’s office.”
Dugan stepped into the room. “Well, I guess we know where he was looking, at any rate. Anything missing?”
“Not that I can tell, but he made such a mess of things and the heathenish reprobate ground ashes into my carpet!”
Dugan moved beside her as she fussed with the papers and placed a hand on her back.
She took a shuddering breath and stilled. “Why is he doing this? What could he possibly want?”
“I don’t know, darlin’, but I promise I’ll figure it out.” Dugan rubbed comforting circles across her shoulders. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“It was just for a moment, but I think I can describe him.” Delilah glanced over her shoulder at him. “He startled me, but I do recall he had dark hair, blue eyes, and a bushy beard.”
Dugan smiled. “I know you’re quite good at sketching birds. Do you think you might be able to draw a sketch of his face?”
“I’d be willing to try.”
“Good.”
Delilah grabbed her sketch pad and a sharpened pencil then led Dugan to the kitchen. She poured them each a glass of lemonade and offered him some of the cookies she’d baked the previous evening.
As she sketched and described the man, Dugan took notes and ate cookies.
When Delilah finished, she turned the sketchpad around and slid it across the table to Dugan.
He sucked in a gulp of air and choked on the cookie in his mouth. Thumping his chest with one hand, he took a long drink of the lemonade with the other then picked up the sketchpad.
“You’re sure this is the man, Delilah?” he asked. He intently studied the image then shifted his gaze to her face.
She nodded. “Fairly certain. It was such a brief glimpse of him, I’m sure some of the details are off, but that’s how I recall him appearing.”
Dugan tore the page from the sketchpad, stuffed his notepad into his pocket, and grabbed her hand. He led her out of the house and along the boardwalk. She had to jog to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.
“Dugan? What’s going on? Where are we going?”
“The office,” he said, guiding her around a corner and down the street to the sheriff’s office.
When they hurried inside, Tully sat at his desk with Sammy on his knee, telling him all about the happenings at school that day.
“Hiya, Dugan,” Sammy said with a smile.
“Hi, honey,” he said, going to his desk and opening a drawer. He pulled out a file stuffed with papers and removed a wanted poster. He handed it to Delilah. “Is that the man you saw?”
She stared at the image of the man who’d been in her house that afternoon. “That’s him.”
Tully set Sammy on his desk and walked around to look over Delilah’s shoulder. “You saw that man?”
Delilah nodded. “He was in my house this afternoon while I was working in the yard. I went inside and caught a glimpse of him before he ran out the front door.”
“Not only that, but I found those same boot tracks in the mud near her front gate that were at the weather station and at Clive’s mine,” Dugan said, pulling out another file and showing Delilah the drawings of the distinctive heel print. She’d noticed that imprint in the mud near her house and the weather station. A shudder racked over her. How long had that man been watching her, spying on her?
Tully gave Dugan an indecipherable look. “Why don’t you stay at our house for a while, Delilah?”
“I appreciate the offer, Tully, but I refuse to let anyone chase me from my home.”
“Delilah, be reasonable,” Dugan said, showing Tully the sketch she’d made. The men compared her drawing to the wanted poster, confirming it was, indeed, the same man.
Despite the circumstances, she was quite pleased she’d gotten almost all of the details right. It had been a long time since she’d sketched a human, much preferring to draw birds, flowers, and fauna.
“I am being reasonable. If I cower somewhere, he’s already won. I’m staying at my house.”
Dugan rolled his eyes and then scrubbed both hands over his face in frustration. Finally, he sighed and looked at her. “Fine, but I’m putting new locks on your doors and windows.”
Tully nodded. “Sammy and I can take care of things here. You go on with Delilah.”
“Thank you, Tully.” Delilah waved at Sammy before Dugan cupped her elbow and escorted her to the hardware store. He selected thick, heavy door bolts for the front and back doors and solid bronze French window catches for the windows.
“You don’t have to do this, Dugan,” she said, trying to take the box of locks from him. He refused to relinquish it as they walked toward her house.
“I don’t have to, but I want to. If you’re going to be stubborn and refuse to stay somewhere else, then you need to at least make your home as safe as possible.”
Delilah wished her father was home. He’d not only keep her safe, but would no doubt figure out the reason why the man named Hugh Allen was intent on finding something he thought they had.
She quietly led the way back to her house. Dugan set the box of locks on the back porch then they went to the weather station where she studied the data, entered the reports in the logbooks, then wrote the cipher. Together, they took it to the telegraph office before returning to her home.
While Dugan went about the work of adding the locks to the doors and windows, she made dinner. She formed a loaf of ground meat on a baking sheet and slid it into the oven then peeled potatoes and put them on to boil. After whipping up a batch of biscuits, she set the table in the kitchen, opened a jar of green beans and heated them in a pot of boiling water, then made another pitcher of lemonade.
By the time Dugan entered the kitchen and installed the last of the locks on the windows, the meal was ready.
“Wash up and you can join me for dinner,” she said, draining the water from the potatoes.
“I don’t want it to be an imposition,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her as he tightened a screw on the newly installed bolt on the kitchen door.
Irritated, she fisted a hand on her hip and glared at him. “Dugan Durfey! You’ve spent all afternoon helping me yet you possess the audacity to say eating dinner with me is an imposition. To whom? Me or you?”
He slid the bolt to make sure it worked then turned around and offered her a crooked grin. “Definitely me.”
A smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “Just wash your hands and sit down,” she ordered, pointing the spoon in her hand at the sink.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dugan tucked the screwdriver into the toolbox her father had stored on the floor in the pantry then washed his hands at the sink.
“Milk or lemonade?” she asked as he dried his hands.
“Milk, please.”
She poured two glasses and set them on the table, then took a seat in the chair he held out for her. Primly, she folded her hands beneath her chin and gave him an expectant look.
He bowed his head and asked a blessing on the meal before taking a serving of the savory meat along with a big dollop of potatoes. He ladled gravy over both the meat and potatoes before taking a serving of green beans.
“Are you sure you won’t go stay with Tully and Brianna?” he asked as he buttered a biscuit and added a dollop of honey.
“I’m positive and before you suggest it, I also won’t stay at the boardinghouse, at the MacGregor’s home, or hide out at the Jordan Ranch, although the opportunity to see little Bolton is certainly a temptation.”
Dugan grinned. “I could take you out there right after supper. Wouldn’t be any trouble at all and I know Jemma and Thane would be pleased to have you.”
“Thank you, but I must stay. Besides, I have to be here to send the daily reports to the home office.”
Dugan forked a bite of green beans and looked at her, blue eyes probing. “You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to prove anything. And you certainly don’t have to pretend everything is fine when it isn’t.”
She stared at him then quietly cut a dainty bite of meat and ate it.
“If you’d show me how to write the ciphers, I could do the reports for you.”
Delilah shook her head. She knew Dugan had watched her often enough to know how to read the data and log the information, but he had yet to figure out the cipher system. Unless the circumstances became dire, she didn’t intend to share that information with him. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to know, but since she’d sometimes filled in for her father and his supervisor knew it, she’d been allowed to learn the system. Teaching Dugan, though, was not something the home office would approve. Then again, they’d rather receive the reports from someone than not have the information at all.
She’d wait a few days and see if more problems arose before she made a decision. Either way, she prayed Mr. Allen would be caught and behind bars before he did something else to torment her.
“Have you heard from your father?” Dugan asked as he helped himself to another serving of the meat.
“Yes. I received a letter just this morning from him.” Delilah wiped her mouth on her napkin then smiled at Dugan. “He hates being confined to his friend’s home and can’t wait for the doctor to tell him he can use both legs and leave town.”
“I’m sure it’s challenging for someone like Ross who is used to being up and about to not be able to put weight on his leg.” He grinned. “I know I’d be as crotchety as a bear in a box.”
She smiled. “That is an apt description of Papa when he can’t do as he pleases.” She allowed her gaze to rest on Dugan as he continued eating his supper, taking a mental category of him. Dark, thick hair. Straight nose. Gorgeous blue eyes with enticingly long eyelashes. Rakish stubble. Full bottom lip, ripe for kissing.
Her thoughts derailed there as she recalled just how much she’d enjoyed his kisses, being in his arms. She knew he’d been upset with her earlier, but he seemed fine now. Perhaps he was just worried about a case he was working on or something that had happened with his work.
The simplest way to satisfy her curiosity would be to ask him, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. Not when she feared what he might say. What if he said something she didn’t want to hear? Like accusing her of flirting with Seth to make him jealous.
Uncomfortable with her thoughts, she shifted on her chair and noticed Dugan staring at something over her shoulder. She turned and looked to see Oliver peering through the screen of the window above the sink.
“How are things coming along with Oliver’s training?” Dugan asked, giving the raccoon another quick glance before returning to his food.
Delilah gave him a smug look. “Brianna and I are already discussing how we’ll decorate the sheriff’s office.”
Dugan raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You mean to tell me that furry little egg sucker hasn’t once tried to bother your birds or the nests?”
“He’s incredibly intelligent and learned with great speed he’d rather receive a treat than be chased out of the yard.” Delilah glanced over her shoulder at her pet. “Isn’t that right, Ollie?”
The raccoon chattered at her through the screen, as though he agreed.
“Well, I don’t think you two better start planning anything just yet. By the time June arrives and more birds settle in your oasis back there, he’ll be hard pressed to leave them alone.”
“I have faith in Oliver.”
“I reckon somebody has to,” he said, giving her a cocky look before he took another bite of his dinner. “What’s in this meat thing I’m eating? It’s very good.”
“Some call it meat loaf. Others refer to it as Porcupine.”
Dugan’s countenance fell and his gaze whipped to hers. “Porcupine? Are we eating a prickly rodent?” He looked down at his plate and his tanned face paled. He swallowed hard and set down his fork then swallowed again.
Delilah tried to suppress the giggles that popped out of her like bubbles from an open bottle of champagne, but she failed. The giggles turned into all-out laughter when Dugan glared at her, clearly perturbed.
“Oh, you should have seen your face,” she said between laughs. “I wish I had my sketch pad at hand or, even better, a photographer.”
“It’s not that funny,” Dugan said, continuing to glower. “You shouldn’t lead people to believe they’re being served rodents for dinner.”
She curtailed her mirth and brushed her napkin at the corner of her eyes to collect the moisture that had gathered there. “Did you honestly think I’d serve you a porcupine?”
“Well, not really, but still…” He picked up his fork and poked at the meat remaining on his plate. “What exactly am I eating?”
“It’s ground beef mixed with spices, bread crumbs, rice, and a bit of bacon. Papa always enjoys it when I make it. I thought you might, too.”
Dugan relaxed. “I did enjoy it, very much. You’re a good cook.”
Delilah leaned forward and held a finger to her lips. “Shh. Don’t let that tidbit of information get around. People will expect me to cook all the time if they know I can. Some days, I rather play with my birds and flowers.”
He grinned and cut another bite of his meat. “Your secret is safe with me, but you might not mention it to Seth. He can’t even boil water, so if he finds out you cook, he’ll be over here all the time.”
“Oh, he knows. I made lunch for him the other day.”
The moment Delilah said the words, she wished she hadn’t. Something flashed in Dugan’s eyes, something that looked like a mixture of anger and jealousy, even though his face remained impassive.
Desperate to change the subject, Delilah brought up an article she’d read the previous day in the newspaper. “Did you see in the paper about the gunfight in Johnson County, Wyoming?”
“I did see that. Although there is no doubt much more to the story than what’s been shared to this point, if I had to guess, I’d say a bunch of cattle barons are suffering from sour grapes and want to eliminate anyone who might pose a threat to their future successes.”
Delilah offered him a thoughtful look. “So you don’t believe all the people who were supposed rustlers have done anything wrong?”
Dugan shook his head. “No, I don’t. I think there’s far more at play than people are being led to believe. With powerful men pulling strings, I wouldn’t be surprised if the person who wrote the article isn’t in one of the cattlemen’s pockets.”
Delilah nodded her head. “I wondered the same thing. Something about the details seems off, almost contrived.”
She assumed he must have wanted to move on to lighter topics when he asked her if she’d seen the article about an upcoming performance planned at the school. He grinned as he mentioned Sammy’s excitement over securing a part.
“You might not believe this, but Sammy pretended to be a mute boy for a while when she first moved to town,” Dugan said. “That youngster has a flair for acting.”
“Brianna told me about what she did, and why. Sammy is quite something. I have to admire her spirit and pluck.”
“Sammy isn’t one to let the grass grow under her feet, that’s for certain.” Dugan gave her a studying glance. “I can’t help but wonder if you were a bit like Sammy as a child.”
Delilah pretended to be affronted before she nodded in agreement. “Perhaps, a little.”
“Tell me some of the things you did to get in trouble when you were a sassy little miss.”
She tossed him a coy smile. “According to some people, I’ve not outgrown being sassy.”
“True. Very true,” Dugan said with a chuckle.
Delilah told him about sliding down the banister every opportunity she had and climbing out her window and down the magnolia tree outside.
He shared stories about his childhood adventures and things he did to tease his sister as they finished their meal. In spite of her protests, he helped her with the dishes.
Finally, she walked him to the door.
“Are you absolutely sure I can’t talk you into staying with someone until we catch this outlaw?”
“I’m certain, Dugan, but I do appreciate your concern and your assistance. I’ll feel much safer with the extra locks.”
“Just make sure you keep everything locked up tight at night and when you aren’t home. And it might be a good idea to leave your front door locked even when you are.” He motioned for her to step close to the door. “This is how the bolt lock works. You just slide this over and then turn it down.”
She pushed the bolt then turned it down so it clicked into place.
Dugan unlocked it then opened the door. “If you need help with anything, you send for me regardless of the time.”
“Thank you, Dugan. I’m sure everything will be fine. Perhaps he found what he was looking for or even realized I don’t have whatever it is he thinks I do.”
“Well, if you find something that’s missing from him marching in here today, let one of us know.”
“I will.” Delilah watched as Dugan opened the door and stepped onto her porch. He settled his hat on his head then turned back to look at her. Oh, how she wished he’d take her in his arms and kiss her again. She could almost taste the rich, dark flavor of his kisses.
For a moment his gaze fused to hers and he looked as though he’d fulfill her dreams. Just as quickly as she witnessed the yearning in his eyes, he tipped his hat, bounded down the steps, and across her walk. He was out the gate and heading down the street before she even realized she’d been holding her breath.
What on earth was she going to do about her growing attraction to the handsome deputy?