have compelling reasons. But if you decide to stay here for another few days, which I hope you will, you can participate in our Thanksgiving Festival. The whole town gets together for it and I assure you, you and Leo will be made quite welcome.” She glanced over to Mr. Dawson. “Don’t you agree, Chance?”
“I would never disagree with anything you said,” Mr. Dawson replied gallantly. Then he grinned at Eve. “The Thanksgiving Festival is quite an event. Why, an opportunity to sample Dotty’s orange spice carrots alone would make it worth extending your stay.”
For a moment Eve was sorely tempted. After all, once she arrived in Tyler her chance to do as she pleased would be severely curtailed. But then reason reasserted itself. “I thank you both for the kind invitation, but my plans are a bit uncertain at the moment.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Epps smiled in understanding. “If your plans change, though, just keep in mind that we would be happy to include you in our gathering.”
As they reached a street leading away from the tracks, Mrs. Epps paused. “I’m afraid this is where I must leave you. It was very nice making your acquaintance, Eve, and you, too, Leo. I hope to see you again before you leave town.”
That brought Eve up short. “Aren’t you going to join us for lunch?” Going to lunch with the two of them was one thing. Going to lunch alone with a strange man was something else altogether.
“I’m afraid not.” She smiled. “Miss Daniels is away visiting her son and I promised to take her place in the weekly bridge game over at the boardinghouse.”
Mr. Dawson’s expression drooped melodramatically. “I suppose their good fortune in having your company is our loss.”
The woman flapped her hand at him with a chiding expression. “Chance Dawson, get on with you now. You need to turn that sweet talk of yours where it’ll do you more good—in other words on someone your own age instead of a matron like me.”
“Dotty, how can you say such a thing? You know you’re the light of my life.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned to Eve. “Don’t pay any mind to his foolishness, he’s quite harmless really.” Then she eyed Mr. Dawson. “And you, make sure you behave yourself.”
Now, what did that mean?
But Mr. Dawson was holding his hands up, palms forward, a wounded expression on his face. “Dotty, my dear, you said it yourself, I’m harmless.”
Mrs. Epps shook her head but there was a smile in her eyes. Then she gave them a wave. “Enjoy your lunch. And tell Daisy hello for me.” With a friendly nod, she stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street.
Eve watched her go, feeling as if she’d lost a much-needed buffer. But she certainly couldn’t back out now—that would be not only rude but extremely awkward. So she gave Mr. Dawson a smile and indicated she was ready to proceed.
They turned at the next corner and Mr. Dawson pointed out businesses and landmarks along the way. Eve made appropriate responses, but her thoughts were on her current situation. She needed to continue her discussion with Leo as soon as possible so she could decide what to do next. Why had he run away? And what could someone as inept as she was do to help him?
A number of other folks on the sidewalk were going about their own business and quite a few of them greeted Mr. Dawson as they passed. Was it her imagination or were the smiles he received from the ladies, young and old alike, especially warm?
They’d gone about two blocks when a man hailed Chance and the three of them paused.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Chance said, “what can I do for you?”
Eve sensed Leo stiffen beside her. Was he worried that the sheriff would find out he’d stowed away? She instinctively placed a protective hand on his shoulder.
“Are you by any chance coming from the train station?” the lawman asked Chance.
Though the man’s smile was friendly enough and there was nothing threatening in his demeanor, something about the way he eyed her and Leo made Eve uncomfortable.
“Sure did.” Mr. Dawson, apparently sharing none of her something’s-wrong-here feeling, maintained an easy smile.
“I hear there was a bit of trouble over there. Something about a stowaway?”
Eve tried to draw Leo closer.
“That’s right,” Mr. Dawson answered, his face still relaxed. “But it’s all over now and nothing to get you involved in.”
Rather than commenting on that, the sheriff turned to her and Leo. “Care to introduce me to your friends, here?”
“Of course.” Mr. Dawson’s smile faded as he finally seemed to sense something was wrong. “Sheriff Gleason, this is Miss Eve Pickering and Leo. They just arrived on the morning train.”
Eve nodded a greeting, not trusting herself to speak. Did the lawman already know Leo was the stowaway? Surely he wouldn’t arrest a little boy.
The sheriff tipped his hat Eve’s direction. “Good day to you, ma’am.” Then he turned to her companion. “Leo, is it? That wouldn’t be short for Leonard Haskins would it?”
Not certain what was going on, Eve glanced down at Leo and was shocked to see most of the color had drained from his face. A heartbeat later Leo bolted, running down a side street like a cat with a hound on its tail. But Mr. Dawson was faster. Almost before Eve could react, the man had overtaken Leo and pulled him up short.
Mr. Dawson marched him back, his smoky blue eyes meeting hers sympathetically, almost apologetically.
But she couldn’t deal with that right now. Instead she focused on Leo. “What’s wrong? Why did you run?”
The boy didn’t say anything, didn’t even raise his head.
Still trying to make sense of what was going on, Eve turned to the sheriff. “Why are you looking for Leo?”
Sheriff Gleason gave her a steady look. “I think we’d all better head over to my office so we can straighten this out.”
* * *
Chance kept a firm hold on Leo’s arm as the four of them marched to Sheriff Gleason’s office in silence. This was obviously about more than just the kid being a stowaway. Was it merely a matter of his parents, or whoever was responsible for him, having tracked him down? Or was the boy in more serious trouble?
And just how much deeper did he want to get personally involved in this? Being intrigued by Miss Pickering was one thing, but getting embroiled in the problems of a runaway kid he knew nothing about was something else altogether.
Besides, that letter he’d received earlier was starting to burn a hole in his pocket. He could feel the weight of it there, demanding his attention with the same no-refusal-tolerated attitude his father had always used.
He’d been caught completely off guard by the sight of that bold, flourishing handwriting that was unmistakably his father’s. Why, after nearly a year and a half, was the man writing to him now? He’d figured the two of them had said everything they had to say to each other in that heated discussion
