A Texas Christmas Reunion Read online

  Half of her didn’t care if they found out about her relationship with Trea. The other half, the prudent half, knew it would be folly to add more scandal to what he was already facing.

  “I know you are innocent,” she mouthed.

  He nodded. “Charlie?” he mouthed back. The grief reflected in his eyes broke her heart.

  “Are you certain?” she answered voicelessly.

  He shrugged, whispered, “He was there—he looked stricken—I think he might have.”

  “You were there. You look stricken. Maybe he’s as innocent as you are.”

  “You finished in there?” It sounded as if the sheriff’s patience, such as it was, was near an end. She’d better take Joe out of his arms.

  “I’ll be back with breakfast,” she called for him and Nannie to hear.

  Turning, she blew Trea a kiss then returned to the office.

  She swept past Nannie and snagged Joe out of Hank Underwood’s arms. Then she took Lena and tucked her into the buggy beside her brother-cousin.

  “Actually...” Nannie’s gaze followed Juliette to the stove where she paused to warm herself after being in the cells. “That was rather a half-pleasant experience.”

  “A child is not an experien—” This was not the time for a lecture on the joy of mothering. “Here is a story for you to put in the paper.”

  “I have one—about the fire.”

  “I’m sure you do, but I don’t think you believe that Mr. Culverson is guilty any more than I do.”

  “What I think is not important. But what is your story?”

  “That a visitor to the jail found conditions in the cell area to be abhorrent. That a prisoner was left back there to shake his health away in wet clothes without a fire to dry them while—” she fixed her gaze upon Hank Underwood “—the upholder of the law sat in toasty comfort in his office.”

  Nannie sat down, picked up her pencil and began to write.

  “You can also report how said visitor refused to leave until said sheriff corrected the situation and lit the stove in the cell area.”

  “May I write that you corrected the neglect, Mr. Underwood? Because it would be unfortunate to have to report that the visitor sat here all night along with her two infants.”

  “And that her father-in-law was at home by himself,” Juliette pointed out. “That perhaps he awoke, found himself alone and wandered over to the saloon where he became drunk as a magpie, fell and broke his hip.”

  “That would make for a story.” Nannie tapped the tip of her pencil on the page. “One which would find our lawman looking for a new job, I fear.”

  “But the wood is all the way out back in the shed.”

  “Oh, yes! That is even better, don’t you think so, Juliette? That the schoolmaster was sickened by the sheriff’s fear of venturing into the dark?”

  “I think that would make headlines as far as Smith’s Ridge.”

  With a grunt, Sheriff Hank snatched his coat off a hook, shoved his arms in. He went outside while pulling on his gloves and cursing under his breath.

  “It was kind of you to go to the trouble of seeing to Trea’s welfare.” Nannie sagged back in her chair. “I’m ashamed that I did not think of it myself. I’ll have to think of a way to make it up to him.”

  As much as Juliette wanted to point out that it was not her place to make anything up to Trea, she held her tongue.

  The very last thing she was going to do was give fuel to gossips.

  Not that, in ordinary circumstances, an engagement would be scandalous, but given the fact that she and Trea were living under the same roof, that he was the disgraced schoolmaster and that his last name was Culverson?

  It would be the horror of the decade.

  * * *

  Trea was a shamed man.

  Especially given that he had chosen to remain silent in the face of the accusations the sheriff hurled at him.

  There was no proof of any of it. Still, when he listened to some of the arguments, they did make sense.

  He did have a reputation for setting fires. It had only been bad luck that on that long-ago night, when the livery burned, he’d been there, hiding from his father’s foul mood in a stall. Worse luck that the peg holding a hanging lantern broke. The lantern had fallen into and ignited a pile of straw before he could do anything to prevent it.

  It would appear that someone who knew his past—which was nearly everyone—wanted him gone badly enough to commit arson. Hell, apparently they had begun by burning his house.

  Charlie? It seemed so. The thought made his gut sour.

  A few people he’d overheard did wonder how he’d managed to burn his own house before he ever returned to town and why he would set a torch to the school he had worked so hard for.

  Others remembered who he was, whose he was, and found him guilty as charged.

  One man had seen him sprinting from the fire. He could not know that Trea was not running from something but to something. All he’d had in mind last night was spending a cozy night in close company with his bride-to-be.

  If he hadn’t been running, he might not be sitting here now. Still, there had been the empty can of kerosene that the sheriff believed he had used to ignite the flames. Hell, just because the can was found steps from him didn’t mean he’d used it to set a fire.

  Hearing the rattle of a tray, he stood up from his cot.

  The thought of eating the breakfast Juliette was delivering didn’t set right.

  He was glad the sheriff was out of the office. What he had to say needed privacy.

  “You don’t look good,” Juliette said, sliding the tray under the cell door.

  She reached for his hand through the bars but he backed up. This was going to be misery enough. If he was touching her, he wouldn’t go through with it.

  “I can’t marry you.” There it was, quickly said and to the damned point.

  She stared silently at him, shaking her head.

  “Of course you can.” She waved her hand at the bars dismissively. “This changes nothing.”

  “It changes everything.” He sat back down on the cot with a thud. The farther away he was from the scent of her, the unique combination of ham, eggs and infants, the easier it would be to have this conversation, maybe. “I’m a ruined man.”

  “But you aren’t guilty.”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. My reputation is worse than it ever was. Everything you are working for will fail if you are involved with me. I won’t be responsible for shattering your dream.”

  “Do you love me?”

  He leaped from the cot, dashed to the bars and cupped her face in his hands.

  “You know I do!” He had to make her understand. “That’s why I won’t marry you. I refuse to ruin your future.”

  She patted his hand, smiled as if what he’d just told her was not earth-shattering.

  “I’ve had my future taken from me once before in an irrevocable way. You are alive and breathing. I will not have you taken from me, Trea. So, yes, we will be married tomorrow, just like we planned it.”

  “We won’t. You have a future. I might not. You have got to accept my decision.”

  The kiss she blew him, and the wink she flashed in spinning away, cut him off at the knees. He barely made it back to the cot.

  “I’m going to prison!” he called after her.

  If it came down to him or Charlie, it would be him.

  “Tomorrow!” she called back.

  What the blazes?

  * * *

  Juliette met the train and escorted her group of guests to the hotel.

  Coming in the front door, she had the pleasure of hearing them gasp in delight over the twelve trees. One of them exclaimed that this was the most inviting establishment she had ever stayed in. Another declared loudly that he might book
his stay for a day longer.

  While Juliette was thrilled by this, the joy did not sink in as deeply as it might have, given the sharp turn her wedding plans had taken.

  She had put on a show of confidence in front of Trea, but in the end he was in jail. Not only that, he had been right about her intimate connection with him being at odds with making a success of her business and her town.

  If she was going to succeed financially, and she had to with a family to support, her hotel had to prosper.

  Did this mean she had to choose between Trea and success?

  Well, she would think of something. Making a choice was not something she could do.

  In the spirit of courage, she smiled and thanked her guests before leaving them in the capable hands of Mrs. Cromby.

  Thank goodness for the woman. Juliette would never have been ready for the grand opening without her help. Bless her heart, not only had she made every room clean and inviting, but she’d welcomed the guests and volunteered to watch Warren and the children while Juliette paid a visit to Charlie Gumm.

  Bunching the hood of her cloak close to her face, she walked into the wind, all the while thinking about the child.

  His house was in the woods, but luckily not far out of town. She spotted the roof through a break in the tree branches.

  Oh, my! The place looked cold, perhaps even deserted.

  She knocked on the door. No one answered, but a cat strolled across the porch and brushed her skirt.

  “Hello, friend,” she said to the furry creature, its tail swaying proudly in the air as it breezed past. “Where is Charlie?”

  “Here, Mrs. Lindor.” Charlie’s voice came from behind her.

  Turning, her heart sank.

  The child stood halfway between the house and a decrepit barn, his appearance ragged. There were shadows under his eyes that a boy his age should not have.

  “Is your mother at home?”

  “Sure. She’s here. She’s only just asleep.”

  Juliette glanced back at the dark house, unable to hide a frown.

  “Mam’s a real deep sleeper.”

  “I see,” Juliette said, even though she did not completely. How could a body dwell in such a dreary place? “Well, I’ve come to see you, anyway.”

  “Is Mr. Culverson still in jail?”

  Now that she looked closely, she noticed that his eyes were puffy, his nose red.

  Had he been crying because of a guilty conscience? Weeping did not necessarily make that the case. Cora had also been weeping, along with many other students.

  Having a beloved teacher accused of such a crime against them had to be devastating.

  Especially for Charlie, whose bond with Trea had been deepening by the day.

  “Yes, he is. But I’m sure they will let him out as soon as the truth of what really happened comes out.”

  Charlie’s gaze shot to the ground.

  “Sweetheart,” she said, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. “Was it you—”

  “Weren’t me!” He jerked backward, but still would not look at her.

  “I was not asking if you burned the school, Charlie. I don’t believe you did and neither does Mr. Culverson.”

  At least, she did not believe the boy had done it on purpose. In her opinion, one that she knew Trea shared, Charlie would not have intentionally done damage to his school. Accidental fires were a common thing, after all.

  “He doesn’t?” the boy sniffed.

  “No. He thinks the world of you.”

  Juliette pretended not to notice that Charlie had begun to cry again.

  “What I was going to ask is, are you the one who is the leader for the singing—for the pageant?”

  “Naw, it’s Mr. Culverson.”

  “Oh, but—well—he wants me to ask you if you will take his place.” This was not actually true, but she was confident that it would be true, if Trea had been here to do the asking. “With getting the students organized.”

  “We’re still going to do it?” He blinked his wide, damp eyes, wiped them on his sleeve.

  “Yes, of course. You will be performing at the hotel, instead. Mr. Culverson wants you to let the other children know, because there is no one he trusts more to get it done.”

  “For a fact?”

  Probably... So she said, “For a fact. You won’t let him down, will you?”

  “No, Mrs. Lindor, I won’t.”

  “Good, then. Give my regards to your mother when she wakes up.”

  Charlie glanced at the house, nodding and silent.

  “I was just thinking.” The thought of him having to go into that place left her chilled. “Cora is at the café. Why don’t you come back with me and you can tell her first, while you have lunch.”

  “I’d like that, Mrs. Lindor. I wouldn’t want to let Mr. Culverson down.”

  They walked together, neither one of them speaking. She didn’t know why Charlie was silent, but her own silence was due to the fact that she was praying he was not living with the guilt of the crime—the shame of nearly injuring his mother and putting his teacher in jail.

  This would be too much of a burden for anyone, let alone this needy boy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Juliette opened the door to go out of the café carrying two lunch trays, one stacked upon the other. Yes, she did mean to butter up the sheriff and was not ashamed to do so if it would help get her what she wanted.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Charlie and Cora at a rear table, huddled in deep conversation. Well, Cora was speaking while Charlie ate.

  She had been in this business long enough to know a hungry person when she saw one. While it was not unusual for growing boys to be ravenous, Charlie was half famished.

  As soon as she visited the sheriff, Juliette had half a mind to go back to the Gumm home, this time to confront Charlie’s mother.

  His condition wore on her heart all the way to the sheriff’s office.

  She was not in the best of moods when she entered and found the lawman sitting at his desk with a small piece of wood in one hand and a whittling knife in the other.

  Seeing her, he put the knife and the half-formed shape of a bear into the top desk drawer.

  He blew the shavings onto the floor, which made Juliette itch to—no, never mind that! The last thing she was going to do was clean up after this man.

  She set one of the food trays on his desk.

  He grinned at her in appreciation.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lindor.” He rubbed his hands together, looking eager to eat. “Can’t get out like I used to, now that I’ve got a criminal behind bars.”

  The scent of fried chicken drifting out from under the napkins reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since—well—when was it? A good long time ago, anyway.

  “I’d like to point out, Mr. Underwood, that you do not have a criminal in your cell, you have an accused man. Until the time Mr. Culverson goes to trial, and in the unlikely event he is found guilty, he remains innocent.”

  “So they like to go on about. But when you catch a fellow red-handed, makes you think something different.”

  “Who was it who caught him holding the can, exactly?”

  “S’pose no one found it in his hand. But it was there and so was he.”

  “There were many people present. Most of them close to the can, I’m sure, even you. And, you were the only one actually touching the can. What’s to say you—”

  “I’m the upholder of law and order, that’s what’s to say.”

  A few things came to mind that she wanted to point out about that statement, but she settled for, “And Mr. Culverson is the educator of the children. Why would he burn down their school?”

  “Can’t say why, but he’s got a reputation for that sort of mischief.”

&n
bsp; “And you have a reputation for—” Accusing him of being slipshod in his duties would not get her what she wanted. “For being fair and above prejudice.”

  “Folks think that, do they?” He drummed his fingers on the napkin he had not yet removed from the tray.

  She nodded because she could not utter such an obvious fib out loud a second time.

  “We both know I’m one wrong step away from losing this job.” He drew the napkin off the food, inhaled the aroma of freshly baked bread. “Get to the point of why you’re flattering me.”

  “Bail. I want to post bail for Mr. Culverson.”

  “Request denied,” he said while biting off a hunk of bread.

  “He has a right to it.”

  He pointed the end of the roll at her. “Only if I think he’s not going to up and run off.”

  “Run off? He would never set that example for the children.”

  “So you say. Others will say I’m letting an arsonist loose on the town, one who might burn their homes down around them while they sleep.”

  “How much do you want? Aside from what the bail ought to be. How much do you want for yourself?” Oh, dear. She ought not to have said that. Most of her money was invested in the hotel.

  “That’s a downright insulting offer, Mrs. Lindor.”

  “Trea Culverson is an innocent man.”

  “That’s for the judge to decide.”

  “And until he gets here, the accused has a right to bail.”

  “And I have a right to tell you to get out of my jailhouse. Get along now unless you want to get locked up, too. There’s an empty cell back there.”

  “You can’t just lock someone up!”

  “Can if they’re behaving in a disorderly manner.” He opened the desk drawer and withdrew a pair of handcuffs, slammed them down. “Scoot on out of here and stop attempting to influence the just course of law and order.”

  Something in the narrow glint of Hank Underwood’s eyes told her he did mean what he threatened.

  Since she would do no one any good by being locked up, she set Trea’s lunch down on the desk.

  Spinning about, she walked toward the door, kicking wood shavings every which way—on purpose.