head, never taking her gaze from Adam.
What did it take to get a straight answer around here? Adam tamped down his impatience. “My name is Adam Barr. Miss Nash’s grandfather sent me.”
She nodded acknowledgment, but remained stone-faced. “Funny, the judge didn’t send word about your coming.”
Did that mean this was Miss Nash’s place? In which case, was the female major domo bluffing, or had Miss Nash kept the letter a secret?
Not that it mattered. Adam would play along, as long as it got the judge’s granddaughter out here. “As a matter of fact, he did. Perhaps his letter arrived after you left town.”
Her manner remained stiff. “I see.” She gave the dog’s head another pat, then moved to the steps. “Miss Reggie’s inside. I’m Mabel Peavy, the housekeeper. If you gents will make yourselves at home out here, I’ll let her know we have company.”
A housekeeper for this place? It was almost laughable, if he’d been in the mood to be amused. If Regina Nash was inside she’d doubtless overheard them. Why didn’t she come on out? Surely she knew it was futile to continue hiding?
As Mrs. Peavy reached the door, she glanced back. “Don’t worry about Buck. He won’t bother you as long as you don’t make any sudden moves toward one of the family members. He has a strong protective streak. Otherwise, he’s just a big overgrown puppy.”
The dog’s baleful glare seemed to contradict her statement.
Adam dismounted, glad to stand after sitting in a saddle for so long. He moved toward the porch, but only climbed the first two steps before lounging back against a support post. No shaded bench for him. He preferred to feel the sun on his face. He couldn’t seem to get his fill of fresh air and open spaces ever since he shook off the dust of prison two months ago.
Besides, from here he had a clear view of the door.
Everett climbed onto the porch, giving Buck a wide berth. He dusted a chair with his handkerchief, then sat down with the air of royalty stooping to grace a mud hut.
Chance paused in front of the dog. When the beast bared his fangs, though, Chance continued up the steps. Glowering at Everett’s smirk, he sauntered to a bench on the other side of the porch and slouched down on it.
Mitchell remained on the grass in front of the porch, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He kept a respectful distance from the dog, but otherwise seemed more concerned with watching the front door than the animal.
Adam thought about who these men were and what they were being offered, and he still couldn’t find the logic in the judge’s selections. Everett—an officious dandy who’d destroyed an entire family with his sloppy reporting. Mitchell—a man who’d let his bottled rage get the better of him and killed someone in a gunfight. Chance—the spoiled younger son of a politician who’d gotten into trouble one too many times for the law to continue turning a blind eye.
As a prosecuting attorney, Adam would have had little trouble convicting any of them. Sure, there had been extenuating circumstances in all three cases, but that was neither here nor there. In Adam’s view, there was right and wrong, good and evil, black and white. Trying to see shades of gray only resulted in confusing the issues of guilt or innocence.
He himself, an innocent man, had spent six years in prison, and was still struggling to pull his life back together. Yet these three self-proclaimed wrongdoers not only remained free, but were being given a generously funded opportunity to start over.
Where was the justice in that?
Adam heard the murmur of voices from inside and pushed away his sour thoughts. Had Miss Nash finally decided to join them? His three companions were strung so tight he could feel the tension crackle in the oppressively still air.
A deerfly buzzed by and landed on his cheek. Swatting it away, he stared at the door, barely controlling the urge to march up and demand Miss Nash show herself.
When the door finally did open, his three companions snapped to attention. The dog also stiffened, eyeing them as a predator would its prey. But it was only Mrs. Peavy.
Confound the woman, was she deliberately keeping them waiting? The judge hadn’t painted her as either mean-spirited or a coward. But perhaps he didn’t know his granddaughter as well as he thought.
Mrs. Peavy held a tray containing a pitcher and glasses. She quieted the dog with a word, then turned to the men. “It’s a long ride from Turnabout,” she said as she set her burden on a nearby bench. “I imagine you’d all be glad of a nice, tall glass of apple cider while you wait.”
Mitchell, ever the gentleman, was the first to step up. “Thank you, ma’am. That does sound inviting.”
The housekeeper responded with a smile. “Help yourself.” When she turned to Adam, though, she was all business. “Miss Reggie will be out in a moment.”
Adam nodded, refraining from comment.
It irked him that he couldn’t remember much about Regina Nash. He was usually good with names and faces. True, he hadn’t seen her often, but that was no excuse.
He remembered her stepsister in exquisite detail. And it wasn’t just that he’d known Patricia longer—it would be hard for anyone to forget such a delicate, feminine creature. Not only was she a beauty, she had the willowy grace of a ballerina and the gentle sweetness of a lamb. Being on the receiving end of one of her smiles had made a person feel special.
But Miss Nash’s image was elusive, a wispy shadow he couldn’t bring into focus. She was younger than Patricia, and different in appearance and personality. He remembered a dark-haired girl with a coltish awkwardness about her, a girl who preferred to keep to the fringes of gatherings rather than mingle. She’d seemed a wren in the presence of the elegant swans that were her stepmother and stepsister. That was all he remembered—impressions more than real memories.
His thoughts drifted to the less than musically talented miss they’d encountered earlier. Something about her hinted at earthiness and fire and a quixotic vulnerability. Perhaps, if the opportunity materialized, he’d ask Miss Nash about her.
Adam stroked the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger as his thoughts circled back to his reason for being here. “I don’t see the judge’s great-grandson about,” he said, catching the housekeeper’s gaze.
Mrs. Peavy stiffened, and the dog’s lip drew back as he gave a low, throaty growl. The beast seemed to be waiting for word to attack.
“Just why would you be interested in Jack’s whereabouts?”
Adam mentally counted to ten, maintaining his smile by force of will. Why did the woman treat every question he asked with suspicion?
He was spared the need to answer as the door opened once more.
Their hostess had finally deigned to join them.
“Now Mrs. Peavy, there’s no need to be impolite.” The speaker, a tall, slim woman, stepped out onto the porch.
Adam took a minute to size her up. He’d always been proud of his ability to read an opponent—it was another of those skills that had served him equally well in the courtroom as in prison.
If
