The Lawman's Christmas Wish (6 page)

“Could.”

“What's the charge?” she asked, sipping at the hot, spicy drink.

“Resisting an officer. Disturbing the peace.”

“Hey, I'm not bothering a soul. Whose peace am I disturbing?”

His eyes narrowed into slits, but the dark brown irises twinkled. “Mine.”

A light, airy, completely bewildering feeling ballooned inside Amy as she contemplated the remark. She fought down the response, deciding she was more tired than she had thought. She reached for the staple gun. A big hand beat her to it.

“Uh-uh.” Reed tapped his watch, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little. “One more minute.”

He took over the staple job, working without a word. That was Reed's way. Quiet. Steady. Capable. She remembered when he and Ben were working on the house, Ben would be talking about hunting or God or the next extreme tour. Reed would occasionally add a word or a grunt and go right on hammering and sawing. He wasn't big on conversation.

The stapler
click-clacked.
Reed held up a headpiece. “How's this?”

“Perfect. Is my time up?”

Reed's grin widened. “Fidgety, aren't you?”

“I like to keep busy.”

“So I noticed.”

He had? Well, of course he had.
Reed considered her his duty, a thought that chaffed more each time they met. They were friends. He shouldn't feel as if she were a responsibility. He should feel—well, she wasn't sure what he should feel, but definitely not duty.

“Time's up.” He pushed the pad and pen toward her and reached for the final crown and strip of cloth. The small garment looked fragile in his large, capable hands. Hands that could take care of a whole town.

“So, what did you think?” she asked.

“About?”

She shrugged. “The pageant. Church.”

“Noisy.” When she glared at him in mock anger, he grinned that grin again. “Not bad. I kind of liked it.”

“Will you come back? Maybe on Sunday?”

One strip of eyebrow arched. “Got to.”

“Oh.” She understood. “You don't have to guard me day and night.”

“I know.”
Click-clack.
The final staples went in. If he said Ben would expect it, she would be tempted to staple his lips together. Instead, he asked, “How are the boys doing? Sammy seems nervous.”

The fact that he brought up her boys took the arch out of her spine. “He is. I don't know what to do about it, either. The break-in scared him so badly. Maybe if you reassured him, he'd feel better.”

“Me?” Reed looked as if she'd asked him to eat whale blubber.

“You're the police chief. Big and brave. I just thought…” She shrugged.

Reed carefully folded the headpiece and laid it aside. “If you think it would help.”

Amy brightened. “I do.”

“Well, okay.” He looked none too confident, a fact that amazed her. Reed always seemed sure of everything.

“Will you watch the boys for one minute while I go get something? I left the song list in the sanctuary.”

“Sure.” He reached for his own cup of cider and sipped, watching her over the rim.

After a quick word to the boys, who seemed fine with Reed as their momentary babysitter, Amy exited the fellowship hall and nearly collided with Ethan Eckles. The pianist caught her by the arms. Like most of the men in Treasure Creek, Ethan was young, single and not bad-looking. Any number of the new women in town had tried to cozy up to the elementary school teacher, but so far he'd remained aloof.

“I thought you might need the song list,” Ethan said, indicating the paper in his left hand.

Amy laughed. “Great minds run together. I was just heading your way.”

“Yeah?” He looked especially pleased. Amy's attention went to the inch-long keloid scar along Ethan's left cheekbone and wondered where the quiet, peaceable man had gotten it. Not on one of her tours, she was certain.

“I thought you'd be gone by now,” she said. “Practice went better than usual tonight.”

The scar puckered as he smiled. “I was putting the finishing touches on ‘Mary, Did You Know?'”

“I love that piece. Karenna's soprano is perfect for it.”

“I think so, too.”

“Well, thanks,” she said, expecting him to turn and leave. He didn't. Instead, Ethan shifted on one booted foot and then the other. Then he cleared his throat.

“Look, Amy, I was thinking.”

About to turn, she paused, head tilted. “About the pageant?”

“About supper.” He patted his flat belly. “I thought you might want to go down to Lizbet's when we finish up here. I want to talk to you about something.”

“About the pageant?” Okay, so she was repeating herself. Ethan worked for her, for goodness' sake. And she felt ages older. But okay, he was great-looking. And nice. And smart. And as tough as any of her guides.

“We could talk about the pageant if you wanted. And other things.”

She was not going to ask what other things he had on his mind. She liked Ethan. He was a great guy. And he was the first man who'd approached her that she'd actually considered going out with. But was she ready for this?

“It's getting late, Ethan.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Well, no, but my boys have, and they need to be in bed soon. Maybe another time?” Had she really said that?

“You need to eat, Amy. Come on. What do you say? Let a friend buy you a burger. We won't stay long.”

While she was contemplating the very pleasant idea of letting a nice man buy her dinner, she felt movement behind her. A grouchy voice interrupted.

“Is there a problem out here?”

R
eed's neck muscles were as tight as fishing line. Ethan Eckles was looking at Amy as if she were a delectable bite of T-bone steak. Any minute now, he'd probably ask her to marry him or something.

“Reed!” Amy's eyes widened and their expression went from interested to annoyed.

“I thought you were going after a song list,” he said, feeling like a grumpy father spying on his daughter. Check that. Not like a father. What he felt was dark and inappropriate and a lot like jealousy.

“Ethan was kind enough to bring it to me.”

Reed's boots squeaked as he shifted. He did not want her going out with Ethan Eckles. Ben wouldn't like it.

Face it, Truscott. You're not thinking of Ben.

“Well, now you have it,” he said, fighting down the inner voice. “Let's go.”

Eckles had the gall to speak up. His quiet voice was calmer than Reed felt. “I'll see her safely home, Chief. Don't worry.”

Don't worry?
He did nothing but worry when it came to Amy and the boys.

“Keeping an eye on the town is
my
job. The boys need to
be in bed.” The two comments had little to do with each other, but he was sinking fast and didn't know how to stop.

Stubborn sparks glittered in Amy's blue eyes. “If you're so concerned, why aren't you watching them like I asked?”

Reed looked over one shoulder. The two boys were headed his way. “I am.”

Dexter and Sammy arrived and stopped directly in front of Reed, not Eckles, who they knew from school as well as church. Reed experienced a certain sense of satisfaction in their choice.

“Do you like my picture?” Sammy asked, shoving the page toward Reed.

Reed went down on one knee to examine the artwork. The Wise Men were decorated with a scribble of red and blue. The camels were purple. “Looks great.” Awful. “You ready to go home?”

Amy cut him off. Her tone was colder than a Nome January. “Boys, get your coats. Ethan is taking us to Lizbet's for a late supper. Isn't that nice?”

Reed ground his teeth together and rose to his full height. He was a good three inches taller than the piano-playing schoolteacher. Amy didn't seem to notice.

Before Reed could think of a way to keep her from leaving, Amy had gathered her boys and, with a smile at Ethan Eckles that soured Reed's stomach, left the church.

 

The Alaska's Treasures office sang with activity. The phone rang, a fax machine burred, and the smell of coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls filled the air. Amy peeled a still-warm bun from the aluminum pan and carried it with her to the table in the back where her staff was gathering for the monthly meeting. All the regulars were there, although some of the part-timers, like Alex Havens, the local pediatrician, and Ethan were not present.

The thought of Ethan Eckles brought back the recent night of play practice. She felt a little guilty going out with him when she'd been ready to refuse. It was Reed Truscott's fault. If he hadn't interfered she'd never have gone. But he had, and to tell the truth, she'd had a good time. Ethan was kind to the boys and easy to talk to. Several times at Lizbet's, she'd held her breath, afraid he was going to do something stupid like too many other men in Treasure Creek and insist she marry him for her own good. But he hadn't. Maybe that's why she'd enjoyed herself. He hadn't insulted her with an awkward, condescending proposal.

Unlike Reed Truscott.

“Amy?”

Aware she'd been woolgathering, Amy brought her attention back to the staff gathered around the long conference table. Casey was gazing at her with an odd expression.

“What? Did I miss something?”

“Nate asked if you had a confirmation on the dogsledding tour.”

“Oh.” Amy quickly shuffled through the file lying on the table in front of her. “Yes. The deposit arrived yesterday. A party of six.”

Nate scribbled something on a yellow tablet. “Mind if I take Bethany along on this one?”

Smiles and sideways glances passed around the table. Since falling hard for the town's wedding planner, Nate kept his tours short to spend more time with Bethany. The dogsledding tour lasted a week—too long for the love-smitten rancher to be away from his fiancée.

“It's your tour, Nate, and Bethany is an able guide, as well. As long as there are other women along—”

Nate's head snapped up. He frowned. “Wouldn't take her if there weren't.”

Amy bit into the cinnamon bun with a smile. Yes, indeed, her guide had it bad for Bethany.

As she looked around the table, she realized that several of her guides had fallen in love during the last few months. As happy as she was for them, Amy suffered an unwelcome twinge of envy. Even with her sons for company, her little old house grew lonelier by the day.

Maybe she'd accept Ethan's offer of another dinner.
Maybe.
He didn't set off sparks behind her eyeballs the way Ben had, but he was companionable. Good-looking too, in a blond, Norwegian way. Then again, maybe she shouldn't. She wasn't husband hunting, regardless of Ben's request, and leading Ethan on wasn't fair.

She sighed and gnawed at the end of a pen.

Perhaps she was being oversensitive. After all, Ethan had asked her to dinner, not to marry him. Thank goodness. He was no more ready to wed than she was.

At the same time, she was lonely, and the loving looks and obvious joy floating around the office had her wishing for someone of her own again.

Not that anyone could replace Ben. But widows did love again. They
did
remarry happily. Not for protection or because they couldn't live without a man, but for love. Reed should have thought about that before he'd made his ill-advised proposal. What was wrong with him, anyway? He was a friend. He should have known better than to ask her to marry him for Ben's sake. If she ever married again, it would be for love, not because Ben wanted her to.

“Amy. Amy, are you all right?” This time the receptionist, Rachel, had placed a hand on Amy's. “You seem really distracted this morning.”

Embarrassed to be caught woolgathering again, especially about Reed Truscott, Amy reached for her coffee and took a
big swallow. The hot liquid seared her tongue. “Sorry. Tired, I guess.”

“Well, you do too much.” Rachel patted her. “And eat too little.”

“You sound like Reed.” The moment his name slipped between her lips, Amy wished it back. A hush fell over the table. She glanced around at faces alive with curiosity. “I mean, he's always nagging me to take better care of myself.”

“Hmm,” Rachel said, lips pursed.

“Interesting,” Casey said, head tilted and brown eyes dancing.

“He has an overactive sense of duty.”

“Is that what it is?” Casey asked.

Amy gripped the pen so hard she thought it might snap.

“What else could it be?”

“He sure is hanging around here a lot lately.” This from Andy Carlson, the “old man” in the group. With his experience traipsing the hills and trails as a former postal worker, Andy led many of the backcountry hunting and fishing tours.

“All of you know the reason Reed hangs around all the time. The treasure. And Ben.”

At the mention of Ben, the speculation ceased. A dozen pairs of eyes slid away. Feeling a little guilty about injecting Ben as means to stop the silly undercurrent about Reed and her, Amy shuffled through her file again. She liked Reed. They were friends.
Friends.
But the heat in her cheeks didn't go away.

“Now let's discuss finances. Gage's winter adventure tour not only brought in enough to make payroll, it brought us two more bookings. With the other tours set up for the holiday, we're slowly getting our legs under us again.”

“We had an inquiry yesterday about one of Casey's ‘rugged woman' treks. A women's club out of Minneapolis.” The phone
in the front office began to ring. Rachel jumped up. “Sounds like more business.”

As the receptionist bustled from the room, Amy turned her focus to Casey. “Have you had a chance to talk to the women's group yourself?”

“I'll call the contact number when we finish here.”

“Good. Now, let's see…” She flipped a page just as Rachel rushed back into the conference room, eyes wide.

“Amy, it's for you.” She held out the cordless phone. “The preschool.”

Rachel's tone was tense. So was her expression. A skitter of concern ran through Amy. “My boys?”

Wide-eyed, Rachel nodded. Every single guide at the table stood up. Fighting panic, Amy grabbed for the telephone. Had something happened to Dexter or Sammy?

 

When Amy arrived at the preschool a record four minutes later, Reed and his amiable dog waited in the pastor's office along with the pastor's wife, Jenny Michaels, and the boys. Even though Pastor Ed had assured Amy the boys were fine, other than being a little upset, the fact that Reed was here indicated there was more to the story than she'd been told.

Dexter was sitting beside the police chief, with his short little legs sticking straight out from a vinyl chair and one hand resting on Cy's noble head. His snow boots gleamed with moisture, indicative of his time outside at recess. His eyes were red as if he'd been crying. Most telling of all was the fact that he was attached to Reed's side like a barnacle. Sammy sat on Jenny's lap, but leaped down the moment he spotted his mother. He ran to her, thumb in his mouth. She caught him up in her arms.

“What's going on, Pastor? Reed? On the phone you said someone was talking to them through the playground fence and scared them.”

“That's right, Amy.” The pastor rose from behind his desk. “Have a seat.”

Fidgety to know what the big deal was, Amy perched on the edge of a hard chair, still holding baby Sammy. He leaned his warm, rosy-cheeked face against her neck and sighed.

“Who scared my boys? And why?”

“Well, that's the problem. We're not sure who the men were.”

“Men?” The hair on the back of her neck tingled. “How many?”

“Two. Jenny had playground duty, and spotted two men at the fence talking to Dexter.” Pastor Ed looked toward his wife, who nodded in confirmation.

“I started toward them immediately,” Jenny said, “but by the time I arrived, they had hurried away.”

“Did you know them?”

“No, but I got a fairly good look at one.”

Amy turned her focus to her son. “Who was it, Dex? Did you know them?”

Her son hiked both shoulders. “Bad guys.”

Amy's gaze jerked toward Reed. His scowl was fierce…and worried.

“Did you know their names?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Then how do you know they were bad? Maybe they were just lost and needed directions. Or maybe one of them was someone's daddy, looking for one of the other children.”

Dexter's cleft chin jutted with determination. “Nuh-uh. They were bad.”

Reed's long legs rotated until his knees bumped Dexter's boots. His voice was gentle. “What did they say? What scared you?”

Her son's lips begin to quiver. Sympathetic Cy moved
closer to nuzzle Dexter's side and stare up at him with a worried gaze.

“They asked about Mama's treasure chest. The smelly man said he knew I could tell him. If I did he'd give me candy.”

Amy's heart fell. The treasure again.
Lord, if I didn't truly believe You wanted me to wait until Christmas, I would open it now. Or maybe throw that box in the river and forget about it.

Reed leaned forward. “What did you tell the smelly man?”

“I told him I don't know. I don't know where it is.” Dexter's voice rose to a frightened wail and fat tears trickled down his face.

Amy could stand it no more. With a son on one hip, she knelt in front of the other. Sammy wiggled loose to embrace his crying brother and the furry, fretting malamute.

“You're okay, baby. You did the right thing.”

“He's still upset about something, Amy. Let the boy talk.”

Amy wanted to tell Reed to take a dip in the Arctic Ocean, but she refrained. He was right. Something else was bothering her son. “Tell us, Dex. What did the bad man say?”

Dexter's face crumpled. “He said he was gonna get me and Sammy. He'd get you, too. And you would be sorry.”

Then her oldest baby fell against Reed and began to sob. Amy wanted to sob, too. At the same time, she wanted to hunt the man down and wring his horrid neck. Her insides shook with the thought that someone had threatened her children.

Over the top of Dexter's head, Reed's gaze met hers. Fury burned in his walnut-colored eyes. Quietly, he said to Amy, “Mrs. Michaels gave me a pretty good description of one of them. I'll ask around town. Maybe someone has seen him. Could be someone even knows him.”

It was creepy to think Dexter's tormentor might be someone she knew. “Okay.”

But in the meantime, how did she ensure her sons' safety? If anything happened to Dexter or Sammy, she couldn't go on breathing.

“This is a terrible situation, Amy,” Pastor Ed said. “I can promise you we will do everything possible here at the church and the preschool to make certain no one enters the playground or school without a visitor's pass and careful scrutiny.”

They'd never before had to do such a thing in safe little Treasure Creek. “Thank you, Pastor. I'm really concerned about this.”

“Rightly so. Let's pray a prayer of protection over you and the children right now.”

“Yes. Please.” She took her son's hands and bowed her head while Pastor Ed prayed a simple, heartfelt prayer. Reed's knee brushed her arm as he squirmed. Did prayer make him nervous?

“Amen.”

“Amen,” she murmured and opened her eyes to find Reed staring at her. Warmth spread up her back, and though she willed it away, her peach complexion heated, too. Why was he looking at her with such intensity?