Chapter Two
Dugan Durfey stared through the darkness up at the ceiling, waiting for morning. Sleep had come to him in fitful snatches and he’d finally given up on getting more rest.
Instead, he crossed his arms beneath his head and let his mind linger on the moment he first noticed Miss Delilah Robbins.
He’d been walking down the street during his rounds through town to ensure all was peaceful on the warm spring afternoon. After a stop at the lumberyard to say howdy to owner Ian MacGregor and his foreman, he continued on his way.
The house the meteorologists used stood in front of him as he headed down the street toward the heart of town. Painted white with pale green trim, the one-story home wasn’t large or imposing, but five years ago, it had been brand new and well built.
The building itself was still in good shape, but Eugene Sutler, and the men who worked as meteorologists before him, were one step above cavedwellers when it came to maintaining a home.
Dugan couldn’t blame Miss Robbins for thinking the house had been pillaged for all the mess that greeted her the moment she opened the door. Unfortunately, it looked about the same as it had the day Sutler took off, loudly exclaiming his plans to make a fortune mining gold.
No one had seen Sutler in the last month or two, but Dugan didn’t doubt he was somewhere in the area. In fact, he questioned whether Sutler might have been involved in an incident that left a miner beaten and robbed several weeks ago. The description the man gave the sheriff sounded a lot like Sutler, but since they hadn’t found him or any evidence, there was nothing to be done about it, at least for now.
Dugan sighed and let his thoughts drift back to Delilah. He’d nearly swallowed the sassafras drop he’d been sucking on when he walked by the house and saw a woman sitting on the porch, absorbing the sunshine shimmering through the hole in the roof. He’d felt thunderstruck in that moment.
She’d looked like something from a painting, so serene and breathtakingly beautiful, with the longest, most graceful neck he’d ever seen. Even with her prim posture and attire, she radiated something magnetic, something Dugan couldn’t begin to explain let alone fathom.
Everything about her exuded warmth: warm brown hair, warm brown eyes, the warmth of her smile.
In spite of himself, Dugan felt drawn to her from the very moment he clapped eyes on her beguiling face. He’d approached the porch on silent feet. For a long moment, he just watched her, studying the way her eyelashes rested like feathery fans against her cheeks and the fullness of her upper lip that made him want to kiss it over and over again.
Aware that he should have left her to enjoy the sunny afternoon in peace, he couldn’t help but speak up when he heard her mutter something about the town not being all bad. She’d jumped in surprise as those magnificent eyes popped open and glared at him. He could see a light shining in them, like a flame flickering behind the safety of a lamp’s glass chimney.
Her soft, melodic voice struck a chord deep inside him, one that had never been plucked or played. One he hadn’t even known existed until that very second.
Then dang it all if Seth hadn’t shown up with Captain Robbins and turned on his charm. Seth Harter wasn’t just a fellow deputy and man Dugan worked with. They’d been best friends since the day they met. In many ways they were closer than brothers. Yet in some matters, they couldn’t be more different.
Dugan had no doubt, though, that Seth was the more handsome of the two, the more charming, and the one more inclined to woo the ladies.
Not that Dugan ever had a lack of interest from the single females in town, but all Seth had to do was cast a smile and he caught women faster than a fisherman dragging in a full net. It didn’t hurt that his friend had hair the color of spun gold or eyes that Dugan had heard a woman in one of the saloons describe as bottomless blue, whatever that meant.
Dugan had about as much chance with Miss Robbins as a snowball did of surviving in the desert on the Fourth of July, especially if Seth set his sights on the lovely woman.
A sigh rolled out of him and he sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. He felt along the table beside his bed and struck a match. After lighting the wick in the lamp, he picked up a book he’d been reading the last few days. The clock on the bedside table assured him he had plenty of time before he needed to get up and around for the day, since the hands on the clock had yet to reach four in the morning.
He cracked open the book, an adventuresome arctic tale by Jules Verne, and tried to focus on the story. Despite his best efforts, his mind continued wandering back to how enticing Miss Robbins had looked with her face turned up to the sun and a smile riding those soft pink lips.
Determined to chase her from his thoughts, Dugan tossed the book on the table and got up. After making his bed, he pulled on his clothes and went out to see to his morning chores. With just two horses, a milk cow, and a cat, there wasn’t much to do.
Button had been his sister’s horse, but when she and her husband moved to Portland, she’d asked if she could leave the gentle mare with Dugan. He’d agreed, hoping Darla and her family would visit once in a while. In the two years she’d been gone, he’d seen her only one time, and that was when he’d hauled a prisoner to Portland for a trial and spent an extra day in the city just to see his sister.
Dugan hung a lantern on a hook and walked down the aisle of the barn to the back. He pushed open the door and stepped into the pasture the cow, Mildred, shared with Button and Dugan’s horse, Barton.
“Come on, boss,” he called through the darkness to the cow. He heard her shuffling movement and a soft moo before she waddled into the light spilling out the door from the lantern.
Her calf bawled and kept step beside her as she meandered into the barn. “Settle down, Daisy,” Dugan said, rubbing a hand over the calf’s back as it pranced past him.
Mildred moved into a stall and contentedly munched her breakfast while Dugan fetched the milk pail and a stool. He’d barely started milking her when the calf butted against his arm.
“Daisy, you best behave or I’ll lock you in the stall next door. We all know that’s not a fun time for any of us.”
The calf nudged him again then turned and nosed the barn cat waiting for her morning share of milk.
“Open up, Prudence,” Dugan said, squirting milk at the black and white spotted cat. With her black nose, the feline looked as though she’d been sniffing around in a coal bin. The cat opened her mouth and lapped at the milk Dugan shot her way.
He chuckled and gave the cat another squirt before he continued filling his pail with milk. When he finished, he filled an old crockery bowl and set it in the barn aisle for the cat before he placed his pail of milk on a work bench and covered the top with a cloth.
“Time to go out, Mildred.” His hand settled on the cow’s broad rump as he pushed her out of the stall. She gave him a long look and then slowly made her way outside. The two horses trotted over and Dugan gave them both plenty of attention before he tossed hay to them and filled the water trough.
He closed the barn door, grabbed the milk pail, and returned to the house. After straining the milk into a pitcher, he took it out to the springhouse, rinsed the bucket at the pump, and left it in the barn.
Although he’d just cleaned the barn the previous morning, he quickly shoveled out the manure, spread fresh straw in Mildred’s stall, and then carried the lantern back to the house.
“I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to help Mr. Robbins and his daughter with their house cleaning,” he mused aloud as he washed up and changed into a clean blue and white striped work shirt. After tying a blue and burgundy paisley neckerchief around his neck, he slipped on his dark blue vest. He took the watch out of his pocket and wound it, then slid it back in before he combed his hair and brushed his teeth.
Quickly shrugging into a canvas jacket instead of his long duster, he settled his black Stetson on his head, fastened on his gun belt, then made his way outside.
The two-story house on ten acres he called home had belonged to his sister’s husband’s family. When they left for Portland, they’d sold him the place at a price he couldn’t turn down. He’d sold his mother’s house in town and readily moved to the little farm located on the east end of Baker City. His was the last place in a few scattered homes on the edge of town before sagebrush opened up to the road that headed toward Richland.
Generally, it only took him about five minutes to walk from his front door to the sheriff’s office. This morning, though, he headed straight for the meteorologist house. He couldn’t explain why he felt a need to help clean up the mess there, but he did. And since it was barely five in the morning, he had a feeling he’d be able to get in an hour or two of work before anyone detected his presence.
As plumb tuckered out as Miss Delilah Robbins appeared when he left her at the boardinghouse yesterday afternoon, he wouldn’t be surprised if she slept the day away. He knew Hattie and Edwin Greenfield would both fuss over her and make her feel at home. The couple might not be American, but they definitely knew a thing or two about hospitality and making folks feel welcome at their place.
Dugan had enjoyed many meals with them — some at their home, others at the homes of friends. He’d never once found them to be anything other than gracious and kind. His thoughts lingered on the caring couple and their mutual friends as he walked up the porch steps at the meteorologist house and turned the knob on the door. It swung open and he stepped inside. If he remembered correctly, the house had been wired for electricity. His fingers slid along the wall until he found the button that clicked on the lights in the entry hall.
He glanced around, trying to decide if the place looked worse or better in the glow of the sconces on the walls. Determined to do what he could to help clean up the disastrous state of the house, he shucked off his jacket, removed his hat, and left them on the broken coat rack near the front door. Most likely, the majority of the furniture and household goods left in the house were better suited to a burn pile than anything else, but he’d leave that up to the Robbins family to decide.
In the meantime, he went down the hall to the kitchen, clicked on the lights and ignored the upheaval. After opening the back door so fresh air could flow into the stale rooms, he found an empty box on the small back porch and carried it to the front entry where he began gathering pieces of broken dishes and trash.
By the time the box was full, the first fingers of dawn stretched lazily across the sky in soft hues of amethyst, rose, and gold. Dugan stepped out back and surveyed what had once been a lush lawn. Straggly weeds left from the previous autumn poked up through the ground and pieces of broken picket fence sagged inward.
It was sad none of the men who’d lived in the house had taken care of it. Too bad no one knew the new meteorologist wasn’t another gold-hungry bachelor who’d only stay long enough to be lured into mining for a fortune he’d most likely never find.
Had they known, Dugan liked to think he and Seth, and Sheriff Tully Barrett, might have seen to fixing up the house so it was at least inhabitable before Ross and Delilah Robbins arrived in Baker City.
Dugan emptied the box of trash on a bare mound of dirt and returned inside. As he worked, he thought about Delilah, of her rare beauty and the intellect he’d detected in her gaze. She appeared cultured, educated, and about as proper as Thane Jordan’s English wife, Lady Jemma.
Some people in town still hadn’t gotten over the astonishment of the rancher going to England to settle his brother’s estate and coming home married to a woman who was practically royalty with two kids in tow. But Thane and Jemma had fallen in love and would soon welcome a baby to their already busy household.
Dugan chuckled as he thought about Lily Jordan. The lively four-year-old was a handful on a good day. He could only imagine how hard things would be for Jemma when she had a baby to care for, too. It was a good thing Lily’s older brother, Jack, was a well-behaved, responsible, thoughtful lad.
And Jemma had Allie Amick to help her, too. The woman’s sister-in-law had come to Baker City as a mail-order bride in the autumn, but the man who sent for her belonged in jail. If he dared set foot back in town, the sheriff had promised to escort him directly to a cell. At any rate, Ben Amick had married the pretty girl and taken her out to the Jordan Ranch to live. That occurred in the weeks before anyone discovered Ben was actually Thane’s half brother.
Dugan hadn’t been privy to all the details, but apparently Thane had no idea his mother had wed a second time and bore a child. Thane hadn’t seen the woman since the day she’d left him as a young heart-broken boy. In spite of the shock of it all, Ben and Thane had settled their differences and got along like they were not just brothers, but good friends.
Since Tully was Thane’s closest friend, Dugan often picked up tidbits of ranch news from the sheriff. He knew the cattle were nearly done calving, six foals had arrived with no problems, and the barn cat had a new bunch of kittens.
With Prudence due to have her own batch of kittens soon, Dugan would have to keep an eye on her. Last year, she’d hidden the kittens beneath the porch and he’d had a whale of a time coaxing them out of that tight spot.
When the box was full of trash again, Dugan hefted it out to the pile of garbage he’d started and set fire to it. He’d found a separate box to put the shards of broken dishes and pottery in, knowing they wouldn’t burn, but the scattered newspapers and other trash would. Flames licked greedily over the garbage and burned quickly.
He’d managed to clean the debris from the hallway, the parlor, and dining room when he glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. If he wanted to get to work on time, he best see about breakfast and then head to the sheriff’s office.
After pouring water on the ashes to make sure the fire wouldn’t spring back to life, he washed his hands at the sink in the kitchen. With no clean towel to be found, he wiped his hands on the seat of his denims as he made his way to the front door. He pulled on his jacket, tugged his hat down on his head, and then hurried to the café.
“Morning, Deputy,” a buxom middle-aged woman greeted as he stepped inside and doffed his hat.
“Morning, Miz Gilley,” he said, smiling at the widow who ran the business. He took a seat at an empty table.
She plunked a mug full of steaming coffee in front of him and grinned. “The usual today?”
“Yes, ma’am. Please and thank you.”
She nodded once. “Coming right up.”
Dugan lifted the mug and took a sip of the dark, aromatic coffee. Annabelle Gilley might not be the prettiest woman in town, but she knew how to make a strong cup of coffee and she was a good cook. Frequently, he took his meals at her café. If he had to ride out of town on business, Miz Gilley would make sandwiches for him to take along.
In a matter of minutes, the widow returned with a plate and set it in front of him along with a napkin and silverware. “You need anything else, Deputy?”
“No, ma’am. This should do it. Thank you.”
She again nodded once then bustled off to wait on another customer.
Dugan surveyed the pile of crispy bacon, two fried eggs, a scoop of thinly-sliced potatoes fried to golden-brown perfection, and biscuits slathered with butter and a heaping spoonful of berry jam. Before digging into the food, Dugan took a moment to bow his head and offer a word of thanks for the meal and the privilege of enjoying another day.
He’d just forked a bite of potatoes when Seth plopped down at the table and snitched a piece of bacon.
“Why is it you feel the need to steal my food every morning?” Dugan asked, tossing a warning look at his friend.
“Why is it you still haven’t learned how to share?” Seth teased and raised a hand toward Miz Gilley, signaling he wanted his typical breakfast, too.
“I thought maybe you were gonna skip breakfast this morning,” Dugan said then bit into the fluffy biscuit. Butter melted into every crevice and the sweetness of the huckleberry jam tasted delicious.
From out of nowhere, his mind questioned what Delilah Robbins’ kisses would taste like. Would they be even sweeter than Miz Gilley’s prized berry jam? Disturbed by his thoughts, especially with Seth giving him odd looks, Dugan turned his attention to eating his food.
Miz Gilley soon set a plate of food in front of Seth along with a cup of coffee. “Running late this morning?” she asked.
“Not by more than a minute or two,” Seth said, winking at the woman as he cut into an egg and the yolk oozed across his plate.
Dugan turned his gaze away from the river of yellow soaking into Seth’s biscuit back to his own food. “It’s another fine meal, Miz Gilley.”
The widow beamed and patted Dugan on the shoulder as though he was a boy who’d earned her approval. “Glad you’re enjoying it.” She sashayed off to the kitchen.
Seth watched her leave then gave Dugan a knowing look. “You just butter her up so she’ll wrap up a few cookies to send along with you.”
Dugan shrugged. “Haven’t you ever heard you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”
A chuckle rolled out of his friend. “Plenty of times. I’ll be sure and tell Miz Gilley you’re comparing her to a fly.”
“Oh, shut your gabber and eat. If you don’t hurry it up, we’ll both be late and the boss wouldn’t appreciate that.”
“No, he wouldn’t. I wonder if he and Brianna and Sammy are having a good time on their trip.”
Dugan was glad the sheriff’s wife had talked Tully into taking a little time off and going out of town to the Oregon coast. Sammy, their adopted daughter, had nearly danced in excitement at the prospect of going. He hoped the weather had been cooperative and it hadn’t rained the whole time the little family stayed at a small coastal town.
A year ago, if someone had told him the sheriff, a confirmed and determined bachelor, would be married with a wife and half-grown daughter, Dugan would have laughed in their face. However, it seemed marriages and love were in the air the last year or so. He supposed it all started when Tad Palmer, owner of the best saddle shop in the area, married the Widow Jacobs. Tad and Posey seemed as happy as two peas in a pod, especially with Posey’s son, Nate, keeping them on their toes.
Then Thane and Jemma married that autumn, followed in the spring by Maggie and Ian MacGregor. Maggie had been close friends with Thane and Tully ever since Dugan could remember. She and Ian had been married just a few short months when Tully and Brianna exchanged their vows. They’d barely returned from their honeymoon trip back East when Ben and Allie wed.
With all the newly married couples so happy and in love, it made a longing he had no idea existed ache in Dugan’s heart. At least the number of weddings had slowed down over the winter months.
“What’s got you looking so persimmon-faced?” Seth asked as he shoveled in a bite of his runny eggs.
“I’m not persimmon-faced, you blind lunkhead.” Dugan broke off a piece of bacon and shoved it in his mouth. He didn’t plan to share his thoughts about marriage with Seth, especially not when Delilah Robbins’ lovely face kept popping into his head. “I was just thinking about how many weddings have taken place since Tad convinced Posey to marry him.”
“A bunch of ‘em,” Seth said, wrapping his hand around his mug of coffee and taking a sip. “For a while, I thought wedding fever might reach epidemic status.” He leaned back in his chair and took another sip of coffee. “Looks like we survived unscathed.”
“We sure did.” Dugan grinned at Seth. “Unless you’ve got a girl hidden somewhere I don’t know about.”
Seth snickered. “Now that would be something, wouldn’t it? There ain’t a woman on this planet pretty enough, sweet enough, or conniving enough to get me down the aisle. I plan to keep the shackles of matrimony at bay as long as possible.”
“With an attitude like that, I’m sure you’ll succeed. No woman in her right mind would get tangled up with the likes of you.” Dugan shot his friend a look meant to goad him, which it did.
Seth stiffened and leaned forward, plunking the coffee mug on the table. “No need to be insulting. Besides, a girl like that Miss Robbins might just convince me to change my mind.”
Dugan didn’t know if Seth had sensed his intrigue with the woman or was genuinely attracted to Delilah. Either way, Seth’s interest rankled. The reasons why remained something Dugan refused to explore. He’d known Seth for years and Delilah Robbins for less than a day. It would be pure stupidity on his part to let his sudden infatuation ruin a friendship that had withstood fires, floods, shoot-outs, robberies, jail breaks, and blizzards.
With one last gulp of his coffee, Dugan devoured the last few bites of food from his plate, took out money to pay his bill and leave a tip, then rose to his feet.
“What’s the rush?” Seth asked. Hurriedly, he stuffed bacon and the last bite of his potatoes between two biscuit halves and then swigged his coffee.
“It’s getting late. We need to get to the office.” Dugan waved a hand at Miz Gilley before he settled his hat on his head and moved toward the door. Seth tossed money on the table, drained his coffee cup and hustled to catch up to him.
“I don’t know what lit a fire under you this morning, but I’m not sure I like it,” Seth grumbled as he tugged on his hat and bit into his biscuit sandwich.
“One of us needs to be the responsible adult while the boss is gone.” Dugan gave Seth a playful shove as they made their way along a side street to the sheriff’s office
“I know. It’s a good thing Tully has me around,” Seth joked, then took another bite of his biscuit.
“You better just hush before I shove that whole thing in your pie hole.” Dugan unlocked the door and stepped inside with Seth right behind him.
They didn’t have any prisoners and Tully had caught up on all the paperwork before he left, so the two of them didn’t have a lot to work on, other than attempting to keep the peace in town.
Rather than succumb to boredom, Dugan dug out a file full of old wanted posters and had carefully studied them to see if any of the men looked like those wandering around town.
Most criminals knew better than to mess around in Baker City. Tully Barrett had a reputation of always getting who he went after. In spite of the fact he was as soft as a feather pillow when it came to the women and children in his world, he could be as hard and unyielding as a railroad spike when the situation warranted.
Dugan had seen him bring outlaws to tears many times in the years he’d worked as a deputy. No one with all their brain cells functioning would want to get on the sheriff’s bad side. He and Seth had learned more than they thought possible from the sheriff, for their jobs and skills that helped them in life in general.
“Since you’re in a cranky, contrary mood this morning, I think you ought to go walk it off,” Seth said, sinking onto the chair at his desk. They used to share it, but a few months back Tully had brought in another desk and chair, and set it up on the opposite corner.
Dugan hadn’t minded sharing a desk with Seth, but it was nice to have his own space. At least Seth didn’t eat all the candy he kept in a desk drawer quite as frequently as he had before.
He glanced over at his friend. “Fine. I’ll make a round through town. Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have that disgusting egg yolk wiped off your chin.”
Seth swiped at his chin with three fingers and looked at them then got up to look in the small mirror they kept on the wall behind the door. “I don’t see anything, you batty ol’ buffoon.”
Dugan chuckled as he stepped outside into the bright morning sunshine. “Stay out of trouble until I get back.”
“I could say the same to you, Dug,” Seth called after him before he shut the door.
Dugan stood on the step and inhaled a deep breath of clean air, letting it fill his lungs. He inhaled another breath before he set off to make his rounds around town. In no rush, he ambled along, tipping his hat to women, working a few smiles out of babies, and greeting men he knew with a friendly word or two.
He circled around town and spoke briefly to Ian MacGregor at the lumberyard. After he completed a full circle around Baker City, he allowed himself to walk by the meteorologist’s house.
Edwin and Hattie Greenfield were walking up the porch steps with a box of cleaning supplies while Miss Robbins carried a brand new broom like a sword ready for battle. Dugan bit back a grin and waved at them then continued on his way.
When he returned to the office, Seth was seated at his desk, jotting down notes as Mrs. Wimple gave a detailed account of why her neighbor should be arrested for disturbing the peace and attempted robbery.
“Good morning, Mrs. Wimple,” Dugan said, tipping his head to her after he’d removed his hat. He moved behind her and waggled his eyebrows at Seth, making a face that nearly caused his friend to choke in his attempts to hold back his laughter.
The older widow woman found something she felt inclined to report to the sheriff’s office at least once a week. Most of the time, it had something to do with her neighbor, a crusty old coot who took great pleasure in ruffling her bloomers.
Each time she came in to lodge another complaint, Tully, Seth, or Dugan would write a report, file it in a special file Tully had started just for Mrs. Wimple, and not give it another thought until the next time she darkened the doorstep of the sheriff’s office.
Dugan pretended to be busy working on a case while he listened to the old woman drone on about the deplorable state of affairs when a hardened criminal like her neighbor was allowed to roam free.
“Did you see him steal the pie you’d set on the window ledge to cool, Mrs. Wimple?”
“Well, no! If I’d seen him do it, I’d be here to report a murder — his!”
Seth lifted an eyebrow and glared at her. “Mrs. Wimple, under no circumstances are you allowed to do grievous injury to Mr. Hancock. Is that clear?”
“Well, I might not kill him, but I sure would have taken my broom to him, that detestable old goat. Do you know what he said to me this morning?”
“I have no idea,” Seth said, clearly struggling to hang onto his patience.
“He had the audacity to call me a nosy, gossiping biddy with nothing better to do than stir up trouble.” The woman tipped her nose in the air and sniffed with disdain. “Can you imagine?”
Dugan hid a laugh beneath a cough.
Seth glowered at him, but from the way a muscle worked in his cheek, Dugan could tell he was about to erupt in laughter, too.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your missing pie, Mrs. Wimple, but I doubt we’ll recover any evidence,” Seth said. He set down the pen he held, rose to his feet, and circled the desk. He took the old woman’s elbow in his hand and maneuvered her upright and then propelled her toward the door. “As for Mr. Hancock disturbing the peace, I don’t think there is anything we can do about him playing his squeezebox in his own yard during the day. Now, if he was to play that thing after nine in the evening, then I’d be happy to pursue the matter.” Seth smiled at the old woman as he nudged her outside. “Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Wimple. Enjoy this beautiful sunshine and warm spell of spring.”
“I intend to, if that nasty reprobate next door leaves me in peace.” The old woman huffed and continued muttering about the injustice of the world having to put up with her horrid neighbor.
Seth closed the door and settled onto his desk chair with a sigh. “Did you tell her to come talk to me this morning? What a rotten way to start the day. She’s been here for an hour, jabbering my ear off about Mr. Hancock.”
“I did not send her to see you and if you recall, I had to take her report the past two times she’s been in.” Dugan smirked. “Next week, let’s leave her for Tully to handle.”
“Now that’s a great idea,” Seth said, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the desk. “You reckon she’ll ever realize Mr. Hancock’s sweet on her?”
“Maybe.” Dugan shrugged. “Maybe not.” He took out the file of wanted posters and opened it. “I think she’s just as taken with him, but refuses to admit it.”
“And here I thought romance had quit kicking up its heels around town,” Seth said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s sure been quiet lately. You suppose everyone is on their good behavior, knowing Tully is out of town?”
Dugan shook his head and looked up from the wanted poster in his hand. “No. I figure this is the quiet before the storm. Any day now, spring fever is gonna hit and we’ll be chasing every which direction. Enjoy the calm and peace while it lasts.”
Seth nodded in agreement as he looked around their already clean office. They’d been so bored yesterday they’d even cleaned out the cells and aired the bedding.
“I think I might just…”
A messenger boy raced inside, waving a note over his head. “Mr. Irwin’s been robbed!” the boy declared, handing the note to Seth since he was closest to the door.
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Seth said, tossing the boy a penny. The youngster caught the coin and raced back out the door.
“What’s the note say?” Dugan asked. Saul Irwin ran the local green grocers store and had almost as many complaints as Mrs. Wimple.
“He claims someone broke in last night and stole two cabbages.” Seth sighed as he stood. “You want to go talk to him?”
“He’s all yours,” Dugan said with a grin. “Don’t have too much fun tracking down the devious criminal who stole cabbages. If it was me, I’d find something a lot tastier to pilfer.”
Seth sniggered. “You and me both. I’ll bring back lunch when I come.”
“Thanks,” Dugan said, studying a wanted poster as Seth left. The man glaring up at him from the poster looked familiar for some reason, but Dugan couldn’t say why. He set the poster aside and continued perusing the other posters in the stack.
The rest of the day passed peaceably. By the time Seth arrived at the grocer’s store, Mr. Irwin realized he’d miscounted the cabbages and none had been stolen.
By mid-afternoon, Dugan was antsy and decided to take another walk through town. He left Seth listening to Mr. Bentley rant about the city’s need to start paying him to water down the dust on the streets. The old man drove the sprinkler wagon around town from the middle of May until the first frost arrived in the autumn. It gave the old-timer something to do and the water kept the streets from becoming thick with dust during the summer.
Dugan mused the city might have to hire Mr. Bentley to go to work sooner than usual if the nice spring weather continued. Then again, the weather in Baker County was nothing if not unpredictable. Why, they’d even had a freak snowstorm last June. As far as Dugan was concerned, anything could happen.
He strolled through town lost in his musings until the sound of shouting drew his attention. The swinging doors at the Rusty Nugget saloon squawked in protest as he raced through them to break up a fight between two miners. The men might have been down on their luck, but evidently not too broke to drown their sorrows in beer.
After threatening to haul them both to jail if they didn’t behave, Dugan continued on his way through town. He finally allowed himself to approach the meteorologist’s house to see how things were progressing with the cleaning efforts. Just as he strolled around the corner by the sagging front fence, he heard a woman’s scream rip through the peaceful afternoon.
Dugan drew his pistol and ran the last few yards to the house. He crossed the front walk in seconds, bounded up the steps, and rushed inside. No one was in the hallway or the front parlor. He glanced into the dining room then continued down the hall to the kitchen. It was empty so he backtracked to the hall and continued to where two bedroom doors opened across from a bathroom.
The sight of pink stocking-clad calves, shapely ones at that, sticking out from beneath a froth of petticoats greeted him as he glanced into the first bedroom. An overturned chair and a surprisingly sensible black boot that looked impossibly small for a woman to wear were the only things on the floor in the room.
As he holstered his pistol, he lifted his gaze and stared at the woman clinging half in the attic space. Her stomach rested against the edge of the opening to the attic while her legs dangled in the air. Decorative ceiling tiles that were at least two feet square covered the ceiling. He could see how it would have been easy to disguise an entrance into the attic that way. It appeared the woman had shoved the tile aside and climbed up to investigate what was in the attic.
“Miss Robbins?” Dugan asked, tamping down his amusement and the urge to run his hands up those exposed stockings. “It’s Deputy Durfey. Just hanging around today, are you?” he teased.