Chapter Three
Delilah wondered if she could pull herself the rest of the way into the attic and die from embarrassment in the dark recesses instead of in front of the handsome deputy.
In her precarious position, hanging half out of the attic crawl space, she couldn’t move enough to even glance down to see if it was really him. The sound of his deep voice, though, had haunted her dreams and waking hours since meeting him yesterday. The intriguing tone laced with a slight rural drawl offered assurance none other than Dugan Durfey paid witness to her current predicament.
“Good afternoon, Deputy. How kind of you to stop in today,” she said, wondering how one could sound dignified while their hindquarters dangled in the air. Gracious! What if her skirts were hiked up? There was no telling what kind of view he had from his stance beneath her.
“What in tarnation are you doing up there?” the deputy inquired.
He must have shifted his weight because a floor board creaked. Delilah could hear the humor in his tone. Although she liked the sound of it, she certainly didn’t appreciate the fact it was aimed at her and her unfortunate situation.
“Before we tackled more cleaning, I thought it might prove prudent to investigate the attic space. Since there are no stairs and we haven’t a ladder, I stood on a chair. Only I wasn’t quite tall enough to see into the space, so I hoisted myself up here,” she said. The idea seemed much better in theory than in application. Edwin Greenfield promised to return with a ladder after he escorted Hattie home to start dinner for their guests. Had she waited another ten minutes, her stocking-covered legs and petticoats wouldn’t be on display to the deputy.
“Then the chair tipped over and you lost your shoe,” Dugan said, completing her explanation.
She felt the warmth of his hand as it grasped her foot. For a moment, she wondered if he’d held a match to her skin. Sizzling heat seared from the arch of her foot all the way to her head and back down again.
“Can you see what’s up there?” he asked, still holding onto her foot.
Despite how improper it was, she certainly wasn’t going to suggest he turn her loose. She’d never experienced anything quite like the sensations created from his light touch.
“I can’t see a thing. There are some candles in the kitchen. Since I’m up here anyway, would you please retrieve one and hand it to me?”
“Why don’t you come down and I’ll crawl up there?” he suggested. The floorboard creaked again. She could picture him standing with one hip cocked, hand resting on the handle of the gun in the hostler belted across his trim hips.
Delilah shook her head, and then realized he couldn’t see it. “No, I’d like to examine matters myself, please.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he said, releasing her foot.
She listened to his hurried steps down the hall and his quick return. The strike of a match and the faint whiff of sulfur wafted up to her before he placed his hand on her foot again. “Here’s a candle. Can you reach it?”
Delilah braced herself on one arm then wiggled a hand down and clasped the candle. Carefully, she raised it into the crawl space with her and held it above her head to illuminate the area.
A shriek started deep in her throat and burst out of her mouth at an ear-splitting volume as the beady eyes of an animal glimmered just a few feet away from her.
“Down! Down! Down!” she yelled, dropping the candle. Panicked, she shoved backward, not caring if she fell to the floor.
Hands clasped her thighs and slid upward to her waist as she pushed her way out of the attic before the beast could bite her.
“What’s wrong? What did you see?” Dugan asked, holding her by the waist. Rather than set her down, he slowly let her slide toward the floor.
Instinctively, her hands rested on his shoulders during the descent. She couldn’t help but notice the solid muscles both in his arms and those of his chest as he held her far closer than she deemed decent. At some point, he’d removed his jacket and hat, because they were on the floor a few feet away from where he stood.
His eyes looked like he’d glanced up and captured bits of the spring sky as they shone in pale shades of blue accented with flecks of sapphire. The stubble on his firm jaw and around his mouth only enhanced his rugged appeal. Her gaze fused to his full bottom lip and she considered what it would be like to kiss it, to be kissed by him.
Under normal circumstances, she would have lambasted him for his untoward behavior and given herself a mental lecture for her wayward ponderings. But at the moment, she only wished he’d draw her a little closer. As it was, their lips were within an inch of each other. His eyes darkened and his hold on her tightened so slightly, she wondered if she’d imagined it.
Dugan swallowed hard and she felt the muscles beneath her hands clench.
Sheer agony.
To be so close to something she wanted so badly was torturous. Especially when she knew it was ludicrous to entertain amorous notions about the deputy. Determined to regain her senses, she recalled the wild animal in the attic.
“Rodent up there. Big. Beady eyes. Long teeth. Snarling,” she rambled, knowing she sounded like a twitterpated dunce.
As though he recalled the reason for her presence in his arms, Dugan set her on her feet then released his hold. He righted the chair and stepped on it before hoisting himself into the space. She heard him strike a match and the glow of the candle provided a soft amber light in the opening. While he was occupied with the wild animal, she hastily tugged on her boot and righted her skirts.
Dugan muttered darkly and she heard a loud thump before a cloud of dust drifted into the air. “Dagnabit!” he shouted, followed by more muffled thuds.
Suddenly, he appeared at the opening and dropped down to the floor, landing like a cat on the balls of his feet.
“What is that thing? It’s bigger than any lap dog I’ve ever seen,” Delilah said with a shudder. She would probably have nightmares about the glittering eyes and sharp teeth that night.
Dugan smirked. “Lap dog?”
“You know, those little dogs women insist on carrying around. One of the women in the Washington League of Benevolent Projects has a Pekingese dog she totes with her everywhere. And the dog is not the least bit mannerly. In fact, a few members suggested she have it checked for rabies.”
Dugan turned away from her and coughed. She didn’t know if it was from the dust in the attic or the fact he was attempting to curtail his amusement. If it was the latter, she would be thoroughly irked with the man.
When he turned back around, his face was devoid of expression, even though she could see mirth twinkling in his eyes.
“What beast has taken up residence in my attic?” she asked with an indignant huff.
“A…” he eyed her speculatively, as though he feared telling her what he’d found above their heads.
“A… a what?” she stammered.
“A raccoon. They like to get into spaces like attics or under porches. If they have food and water they’ll happily hunker down right there and raise a family. That one isn’t even half grown yet.” Dugan pointed to the attic space. “Looks to me like there’s a hole between the siding of the house and the roof eaves where it probably crawled in because that’s where it crawled out. Is your father around?”
“He went to the weather station to make repairs. Evidently, it’s in an even worse state than the house.” Delilah gazed up at the ceiling and hoped the filthy beast didn’t decide to return and sneak into the house. She’d die if she encountered a raccoon wandering through the rooms. “I’ve never seen a raccoon that close before. Are they dangerous?”
“They can bite pretty hard if you upset their apple cart.” Dugan glanced around again. “Do you have any tools here?”
“Yes. Father purchased a tool box and filled it with basic supplies this morning,” she said leading the way to the kitchen. She pointed to a large tool box sitting on the end of the counter.
Dugan looked over the tools then opened the back door and stepped outside. He picked up two small pieces of wood and carried them inside the house, then took a hammer and a sack of nails from the tool box and returned to the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Delilah asked as he tucked the sack of nails in his pocket. He hooked the hammer through his belt, stood on the chair, and slid the boards through the open tile.
“Permanently closing your raccoon’s door.” Dugan pulled himself up into the attic then glanced back at her. “How in heck did you find the opening to the attic?”
Delilah recalled the horrific hour she’d spent with Edwin and Hattie before they’d gone home. “Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield were helping me with the cleaning and Mrs. Greenfield found a bat in the pantry. It was not a simple matter of asking it to leave to get it out the door.”
Dugan grinned. “I expect not.”
“I had a broom and when I swatted at it, the ceiling tile there wiggled. Once the bat was evicted from the house, Edwin used the handle of the broom to push up the tile and that’s when we decided that had to be the entry into the attic space. Small as it is, I’m surprised they left a way to climb in there at all.”
“Did he survive?” Dugan asked.
“Who? The bat or Edwin?”
His grin broadened. “Both, I suppose.”
“Yes, to both. I sincerely hope the bat thinks twice about returning here, though.”
“I’m sure he will.” Dugan winked at her and disappeared from the opening.
Delilah’s cheeks felt hot as she thought of how incredibly attractive the deputy appeared as he looked down at her with that crooked grin of his.
“Good heavens,” she muttered, thoroughly distraught by the direction of her thoughts. One day in this town and she’d set aside all the civilities her mother had worked so hard to teach her. Rather than continue to dwell on her inability to force the deputy from her mind, she went to the kitchen and retrieved the broom.
Back in the bedroom, she started brushing cobwebs from the corners and along the walls where they met the ceiling. She and her father had been quite astonished when they’d arrived early that morning after partaking of Hattie’s hearty breakfast to discover someone had already begun cleaning the house.
The still-warm burn pile in the backyard testified to the fact someone had been there early that morning. Whoever had done the work had gone to the bother of gathering any loose papers and stacking them on the counter in the kitchen for her father to peruse since some of them pertained to the weather station. However, not a single broken dish or piece of trash remained in the hallway or parlor when they’d arrived.
Of course, it had taken all morning and a portion of the afternoon to remove the accumulated trash in the others rooms. Edwin and Hattie had arrived with a picnic lunch the four of them enjoyed on the porch. While Ross went to check on the weather station, Hattie and Edwin had stayed to help Delilah clean.
Edwin kept the little burn pile out back going while Hattie worked with Delilah inside. Then they’d found the bat and the hour they spent chasing it outside must have been more than the dear elderly woman could bear. Right after that, she suggested it was a good time to go home and begin dinner preparations. Delilah couldn’t blame her. She’d much rather be at Hattie and Edwin’s lovely, comfortable home than mucking out someone else’s mess.
“Delilah?” a voice called from the front of the house.
“I’m back here, Edwin,” she said, stepping into the hall as the older man appeared, carrying a small ladder.
“Your timing is impeccable,” she said, leading the way into the bedroom.
“Is that hammering I hear?” Edwin asked, nudging the chair out of his way with his foot and setting the step ladder in position beneath the open tile in the ceiling.
“Yes. Deputy Durfey stopped by. He chased a raccoon out of the attic and offered to repair the hole where it snuck in.”
“You don’t say.” Edwin gave her a glance then scurried up the ladder and into the attic. The rumble of male voices conversing floated down to her, but she couldn’t distinguish what they said. More hammering ensued then Edwin’s face appeared. “Would you hand up the broom?”
“I can climb up there and clean, Edwin.”
“No need, since we’re already up here.” Edwin took the broom she handed to him and pointed toward the door. “You might round up a box or something we can scoop trash into.”
“Yes, sir.” Delilah hurried out to the back porch where they’d left a few boxes. She carried two of them back to the bedroom and climbed up the ladder with one of them. Carefully shoving it into the opening, she peeked into the space and saw Dugan pick up something that looked like the decomposed body of a large rodent.
Despite her conviction she should climb into the attic and help, she backed down the ladder and went to the kitchen to wash her hands. If the deputy hadn’t arrived when he had, she might have remained dangling from the attic until Edwin returned. She had no idea how Dugan happened to show up at the precise moment she most needed assistance, but his timing had been providential.
Delilah opened a large jar of lemonade Hattie had left behind and poured the sweet, tart liquid into two glasses. She kept one ear attuned down the hallway while she wiped out the cabinets near the sink again.
Although her father had warned her conditions in Baker City might be primitive, she’d been thrilled to find the house featured both electricity and running water. Truthfully, she loved the kitchen.
Located at the back of the house, the room boasted a big window over the sink that allowed her to survey the backyard. The space was full of light, had plenty of counter space, cabinets, shelves, and drawers. The exterior door that opened onto the small porch offered one more asset she liked about the space.
With a parlor, dining room, and three bedrooms as well as a bathroom, the house had all the room she and her father would need. She knew Papa would turn the extra bedroom into his office, and that was fine with her since she couldn’t think of a single soul who might come to visit them and need a guest room.
Delilah had always been accepted in the upper circles of society because of her father’s military career, but she’d never had close friends. Not the type she’d seen among her peers. Perhaps it was the fact she much preferred to share her most intimate thoughts with the flowers and birds in her garden than with a fickle member of her own species.
The sound of footsteps drew her from her musings as Edwin and the deputy walked into the room with both boxes full of trash. They carried them outside and dumped them on the still burning pile in the backyard before returning to the kitchen.
“I best be on my way,” Dugan said, brushing his hands on the legs of his denims as he smiled at Delilah.
“Would you like to stay for a glass of lemonade, Deputy? Mrs. Greenfield made it and it’s quite delicious.” Delilah held a glass out toward him.
“I should be getting back to the office, but I don’t reckon another minute will make much difference.” He glanced down at his hands then over at the kitchen sink. “May I?”
“Of course,” Delilah said, motioning for him to use the sink. She located a clean towel in a box Hattie had brought over and handed one to him.
After he dried his hands, he took the glass from her. When his fingers brushed over hers, she nearly dropped the glass. Thankfully, he already had a firm grip on it.
He gave her a probing look then tipped back the glass and drank the lemonade in one long breath. Delilah couldn’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down with each swallow until he drained the last drop and handed the glass back to her.
“Thank you, Miss Robbins. If you have any more trouble with unwanted wildlife, of the four or two-legged variety, you just let me know.”
“Thank you, sir. Your assistance is greatly appreciated,” she said, following as the deputy strode down the hall to the front door.
He nodded once to her, pushed open the screen door, then settled his hat back on his head before he jogged down the porch steps and made his way into the center of town.
“Nice young chap, that Dugan is,” Edwin said from beside her, making her draw in a startled breath.
“So it seems,” she said, spinning around and rushing back to the work of setting the house to rights.