the prettiest and smartest cat you’ve ever seen.”
Ward refrained from rolling his eyes at that clearly overblown description and placed a hand on the child’s head, trying to reassure her. “It’ll be okay, Half-pint, it’s just for a little while.” Wasn’t that the same promise Freddie had made to her? “I’ll come on by to get you later on my way to the funeral.”
Ward ignored the startled look on the mayor’s face—a sign of what he could expect from his fellow townsfolk over the coming days, no doubt—and turned to Hazel. “Thank you,” he said, touching her arm. “I’ll come by the dress shop as soon as I’m able.”
She nodded, her eyes widening slightly. He pulled his hand away quickly, wondering if she’d felt that same spark of awareness.
What was wrong with him?
She recovered quickly and her eyes flashed a warning. “Then we’re going to talk.”
“Of course.”
He watched as she bent to pick up Pugs. Then she took Meg’s hand with her free one and began regaling the little girl with tales of her cat’s exploits.
Once again Hazel had stepped in to help without the least hesitation. Strange how he’d gotten used to always having her to count on. And she never let him down.
Then, shaking off thoughts of the usually-flamboyant-but-always-dependable seamstress, he shifted into his businesslike frame of mind and turned back to the mayor. “Let’s go over to my office and you can give me the details.”
* * *
As Hazel led the child away from the station she silently chided herself for that unguarded reaction to Ward’s touch. Hopefully she’d recovered quickly enough so that he hadn’t noticed.
Pushing those unwanted thoughts aside, she turned her focus to the little girl at her side. It was so like Ward to take personal responsibility for a lost child’s welfare. He could have turned Meg over to the sheriff in Kittering. Or contacted a children’s asylum. Or done any one of a dozen other things that would have shifted responsibility for the little girl to someone else. And no one would have thought any less of him if he had, especially given the mournful errand he was on.
But that wasn’t his way.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself falling for the overly serious, secretly tender-hearted sheriff all over again. And she had to guard her heart against that, at all costs. She’d made her decision to leave and she couldn’t let sentiment hold her back now. It had become painfully obvious to her that there was no future for her in Turnabout, either financially or emotionally.
Because, by her reckoning, if nothing changed to bring customers into her shop, she’d be out of funds in about three months.
This was for the best, no matter how difficult taking that first step would be.
“Is it very far?”
Meg’s question drew Hazel’s thoughts back to the present. She’d planned an impromptu stop as a treat for the little girl, but she realized Meg looked sleepy. “Actually, I thought we’d make one stop along the way, but if you’d rather go straight to my place we can do it another time.”
“Where do you want to stop?”
“There’s a little shop called The Blue Bottle, where they sell the most delicious sweets. They also have a selection of wonderful wooden toys. Would you like to visit there?”
Meg’s face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. And Chessie would like it too.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. And since you’re probably tired from that long trip, I’ll let you pick out whichever sweet you like.”
“Can we get one for Sheriff Gleason too? He’s tired from the trip too.”
Hazel looked at the child’s earnest expression and her heart melted a little more. Meg really had developed an attachment to Ward. “I think that’s a splendid idea.”
How could this sweet child’s brother have just abandoned her? There had to be more to this story than what Ward had told her in those few seconds. Surely it was some dreadful mistake and Meg’s brother would come looking for her soon. To believe otherwise was just too sad to contemplate. And if she knew Ward, he wouldn’t rest until Meg’s situation was put to rights.
But if the brief time she’d spent with Meg was any indication, if and when the brother returned, it might be difficult for the sheriff and the little girl to part ways.
* * *
Ward sat at his desk in the sheriff’s office, waving Mayor Sanders to the chair in front of him. He had hoped the string of incidents—part vandalism, part schoolboy pranks—plaguing the community had run their course and things would have settled down by the time he returned, but from the sounds of things, that wasn’t the case.
Before Ward had gotten word of his sister’s passing, there had been several incidents that seemed the work of overzealous mischief-makers. The hooligans had visited Enoch Lawrence’s place three times, trampling the garden, splattering paint, stealing laundry from the clothesline. Then they’d moved to a neighboring farm, opening the paddock gate and letting Saul Carson’s horses out, causing the rancher to lose a full day rounding them back up.
The one rather vague eyewitness account he’d gotten had come from Enoch’s daughter Hortense, who said she thought she caught a glimpse of two youths racing away after one of the incidents. All of which led him to believe it was the work of rambunctious kids who’d gone overboard with their pranks. But that didn’t make it any less unlawful and when he caught the culprits they would be dealt with severely.
“So let’s have it,” he said to the mayor.
“Last night someone broke a window in the back of the mercantile, pulled some of the canned goods from the shelves and took fistfuls of rock candy from the display case.”
It was sounding more and more like some fool kids with too much time on their hands. But they were getting much braver and more criminal with each incident. “You keep saying they. Do we have any idea how many?”
“No, in fact, no one’s seen anything since Enoch’s daughter reported what she saw. I’m just assuming it’s the same culprits.” He rubbed his chin. “There’s some as think it was the Lytle boys, though no one can agree which ones.”
Elmer and Orson Lytle were cousins but there’d been hard feelings between them for years. He wasn’t sure even they remembered the reasons anymore. Both men had two sons who were unfortunately beginning to follow in the footsteps of their fathers.
“Why the Lytle boys?”
“You mean besides the fact that they’re wilder than badgers and twice as ornery? The four of them started a brawl in the middle of the mercantile. Doug had to throw them out for disrupting his business and they were none too happy about it.”
“That’s not really proof that they’re the ones who broke into the place.” Though it sure gave them a strong motive.
The mayor shrugged. “Of course you should do your own investigating. I’m
