Town Social Page 6

  "I'm sorry, Sunny. But as a law enforcement official, I have to try to track down her mother. I . . ."

  "You do whatever the hell you have to, Ranger Jake," Sunny spat. "But if you find her, she damned well better deserve a wonderful daughter like Teddy, or I'll fight tooth and nail against her claiming her!"

  Jake blew out a sigh. Instead of reacting to her anger, he surprised Sunny with a look of tenderness.

  "I can totally sympathize with you, Sunny. And entirely agree. I'm also sure you'll give Teddy a fine home, even though I don't know you that well. I've seen you with her — seen how much Teddy's taken with you in return. But my hands are tied. I'm bound by regulations to make an attempt to find the child's mother in a situation like this."

  "She's probably dead. I can't imagine a mother not checking on her daughter for four years."

  "There's no proof she's dead," Jake explained. "It's very probable that, even the way Tompkins moved around, word of his wife's death would have caught up with him. If for no other reason than for the town that had to bury her trying to find out if he could pay them back some of the expenses."

  "That's a wicked reason to try to find someone."

  "Yes, but it's also a fact of life. Look, Sunny . . ."

  "When did you stir yourself to find out my name?" Sunny blurted, shocked at herself the minute the words tumbled from her mouth. It didn't matter one iota to her that Jake Cameron finally knew her name. Did it? Or that the sound of her name sort of stole through her each time he said it. Just after a funeral was not the time to be thinking thoughts like that!

  He smiled down at her, the gesture transforming his face from ruggedness to almost heart-stopping handsomeness. Well, she'd already been honest enough with herself to admit he was the best looking man she'd ever laid eyes on, but that didn't excuse his obnoxious personality.

  He hadn't seemed at all obnoxious with Teddy, however. It amazed her, now that she thought back on it, how much his quiet presence beside her during the funeral service had helped her bear Teddy's heartbreak. He'd kept his promise, and she owed him for that.

  This morning before the service, he had escorted her and Teddy to the funeral home and allowed Teddy a last goodbye to her father before they closed the pine coffin. Sunny's eyes filled with tears again as she recalled Jake holding Teddy up so she could see into the coffin, and Teddy reaching down to give her father a final pat on the cheek. The man in the coffin — no, the body, Sunny reminded herself — didn't look like a person who would abuse or neglect a child. Instead, he appeared tired and dissipated, despite the rather worn suit and tie.

  "Hey. You all right?" A callused finger slipped beneath Sunny's chin and tilted her face up, as it had Teddy's moments before. His thumb brushed the tear slipping from her eye. She sniffed and pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve, succumbing when he took it from her to wipe her cheek.

  "You were off in a never-never land while I was telling you that I was following up on what you considered one of my failings — not knowing the background of new arrivals in town," Jake said in a teasing voice. "I was just doing my duty, ma'am."

  "Well, I wish you didn't consider it your duty to try to track down a woman who abandoned a little girl," Sunny replied, taking the handkerchief back. Her tears had miraculously dried, partially, perhaps, because of the soothing way he had treated her face.

  "I have to keep an open mind about this, Sunny. We don't know the background of the split between Tompkins and his wife. Only Teddy knows that, and I'll have to question her at some point." When Sunny glared at him again, he raised a cautioning hand. "I said at some point, Sunny. There's no hurry about it. She's going to have enough to handle right now with her new situation."

  "I fully intend to ensure her new situation is a much better one than she had before," Sunny said determinedly. "My mother and I had a perfectly wonderful life together — the two of us. She left me with enough funds to care for myself for a while. And Teddy, too."

  Suddenly, she frowned. "You don't suppose there will be a problem with the other women in town about me taking Teddy, do you? I'm new here, and they might resent my stepping in. But I haven't seen one other woman in town come forward and offer any help, except the general store owner's wife, Ruth. And she appears much too elderly to take on raising a small child."

  Her forehead creased deeper before Jake could reply. "Well, there was that other woman at the funeral service. She appeared to be not much older than me, but . . ."

  Jake choked so hard she was tempted to pat him on the back. When she looked at him in startlement, she couldn't tell if the glint in his eyes came from laughter or his fight for breath. She drew herself up defensively, just in case she decided he was laughing at her.

  "Uh . . . Ginny McAllister was the other woman at the funeral, and I don't think you have to worry about her fighting you over taking in Teddy," he finally assured her, evasively avoiding her gaze. He lifted the hat he held beside the low-hanging gun on his left side and settled it on his head. "Look, if you need anything — any help with Teddy — I think an awful lot of that little girl myself. Let me know if I can do anything at all."

  "Humph," Sunny couldn't stop herself from saying. "Seems to me you could have helped Teddy earlier — when she was living in those deplorable conditions. Did you know I first saw Teddy scrounging for those burned biscuits behind my house?"

  "No, I didn't know that." Jake released a suffering sigh. "And I'm not going to get into the vagaries of the law about what it takes to remove a child from a parent with you. Just remember what I said — I care about her, too. Good day, Miss Fannin."

  He strode away before Sunny could voice any of the bristling comments crowding her mind. Lord, it appeared impossible for him to move so quickly in that seemingly easy-going, sauntering gait, but he was out of earshot in a blink. Sunny wrenched her eyes from the back of him — the long legs and frock coat hanging down over that gunbelt — and turned to search for Teddy.

  In his office, Jake picked up the stack of letters he'd found in Tompkins' shack. Only the one on the bottom of the pile had been opened. They all carried the same postmark, each mailed from Kansas City, Missouri, but sent to Tompkins at various towns, the locations of which traced an east-to-west path across the United States.

  After slitting the envelopes open with his pocketknife, he found each one contained another letter, which had been mailed on unopened. Instead of being addressed to Tompkins, however, those envelopes carried Teddy's name.

  Jake tapped one of the letters against his chin while he pondered the situation. The letters belonged to Teddy, no doubt about that. And he'd be willing to bet his bottom dollar they were written by her missing mother. Did he have any right to withhold these from Teddy for a while? But was Teddy in any emotional shape right now to handle this, since he had no idea what would be in those letters?

  On the other hand, it would probably be a sound decision to let Sunny Fannin know there was a possibility of other relatives in the picture, before she got any more attached to that little rag-tag, Teddy. His most pressing responsibility at the moment, however, appeared to be getting a telegram off to the law officials in Kansas City.

  He didn't know how much success they'd have in tracing the letters, however. Beyond the Kansas City postmark and mailing addresses, there were no other identifying names on the envelopes.

  ***

  Chapter 5

  "Why of course Liberty Flats has a schoolteacher, my dear," Ruth said three days later as she set a plate of cookies and glasses of luke-warm lemonade on her kitchen table in front of Sunny and Teddy. "But she's off visiting her family for the summer. She'll be back in a couple months."

  "Do you think she'd mind if I borrowed a few schoolbooks, so I could start on Teddy's lessons myself?" Sunny asked. "Teddy has some catching up to do to get to where the other children of her age are. I'd be willing to contribute to the school, to pay for borrowing the books."

  "As a matter of fact, my husband is on the sc
hool board," Ruth informed her. "If I ask him to, he'll be more than glad to grant you the use of the books. After all, Fred and I both firmly believe in education for children, though our son is long out of school."

  "Wonderful," Sunny said. Just then she noticed Teddy surreptitiously try to slip a cookie into her dress pocket and frowned in warning.

  Ruth caught the byplay and chuckled aloud. "Teddy, dear, you are more than welcome to take a cookie with you for later. But it's polite to ask for it first."

  "It weren't for me, Miz Ruth," Teddy said, ducking her head in embarrassment.

  "It wasn't for you," Sunny corrected. "And I assume you wanted the cookie for Rowdy. Still, you need to ask permission."

  Teddy brightened. "Can I have a cookie for my dog, Miz Ruth? Please?"

  The two women glanced at each other with understanding. "Yes, you may," Ruth replied. She smiled in approval when Teddy murmured a mannerly thank you.

  As Teddy munched away on her cookie, Sunny exchanged chit chat with Ruth, realizing as they spoke just how much she had missed having another woman with whom to converse. Aunt Cassie had remained tight-lipped and uncommunicative since their altercation in the hallway. Although she didn't close herself up in her room, she barely acknowledged Sunny's presence in the house when they shared a meal or sat in the parlor in the evenings.

  The only other woman Sunny had spoken to at any length since her arrival in Liberty Flats was Mary Lassiter. She'd been seriously thinking of hiring a buggy to visit Mary's ranch, just to break the boredom of the long, hot days. In St. Louis, she would have made rounds to her friends' houses, or participated in some of the meetings of the various social committees on which her mother served.

  Here in Liberty Flats, no one visited Cassie's house, and she was loathe to approach the few women in town who barely nodded at her when they passed on the boardwalk. Today, she had taken the excuse of returning Ruth's picnic basket and dishes to see if the elderly woman might invite her in for a visit. She had almost felt mortified at the gratitude she experienced when Ruth's face lit up and she waved her into the living quarters above the store.

  She gazed around the pin-neat kitchen as she and Ruth spoke. It was every bit as clean as Cassie's house, yet had such a different, homey atmosphere, much like Ruth's own friendly personality. A brown-edged-crust pie cooled on the windowsill, and the spicy smell lingered in the kitchen. Beside the pie, a riotous pot of geraniums bloomed, with some cuttings taking root in a clear glass jar next to the pot. The pine floorboards gleamed with a coat of wax, and the hand-made rag rugs were intervowen with the same red color of the geraniums. Sunny couldn't help but think how much brighter and comforting Cassie's house would be with a little color added to the decor.

  Noticing Teddy squirming on her seat, Sunny said, "Would you like to play outside until Ruth and I get done visiting, honey?"

  "Could I go see Ranger Jake while I wait for you?" Teddy asked hopefully. "I ain't seen him since the other day."

  Sunny carefully masked the frown trying to crease her face. After all, Jake Cameron was Teddy's friend, also, and in a town as small as this, they couldn't avoid him. Besides, Jake had been the one person she could count on to help get Teddy through the funeral.

  "I guess that would be all right," she said after a second of hesitation. "But remember, we were going to look for you a few more pieces of clothing in Ruth's store. I'll come get you when it's time for us to do that. Do you also remember what I told you about using ain't?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Teddy said with a long-suffering sigh. "You said it ain't a word. I'll try to 'member that."

  Ruth turned her head quickly, but Sunny caught the beginning smile on her friend's face and shook her head tolerantly as Teddy jumped to her feet. Teddy fairly raced to the door, pausing just briefly when she remembered to thank Ruth for the lemonade and cookies. Ruth chuckled as they heard Teddy clattering down the steps, calling for her dog.

  "She seems to be overcoming her grief," Ruth said. "But children always do bounce back more quickly than adults."

  "She still wakes up crying at night," Sunny said quietly. "I probably shouldn't do it, but I take her into bed with me when that happens. She's so tiny, and thinking of her lying there in the dark in that room all by herself just tears me apart."

  "It's not spoiling a child to give her comfort," Ruth assured her. "Time will eventually help her overcome her nightmares."

  Sunny bit her lip for a second, wondering if her tentative friendship with Ruth would allow her to ask some of the questions she'd been pondering the last few days. After all, this town was Ruth's home, and she appeared to be well-contented with her life. Granted, the town was extremely peaceful, but . . . well, darn it, the town was also extremely boring. What on earth did the women do with themselves day in and out?

  "Ruth," Sunny ventured. "Ah . . . back in St. Louis, I was involved with my mother on a few committees in town. I've been wondering if there might be something here I could perform a service for. Teddy hardly takes up all my time, and I'd be more than willing to contribute. I'd thought to introduce myself to some of the ladies at church tomorrow, and perhaps you could give me a hint as to what might be the best way to approach them."

  Ruth clapped her hands together, her eyes gleaming excitedly. "Sunny Fannin, you're a woman after my own heart! As bad as this town was before Ranger Cameron ran off the outlaw element, at least there was a measure of excitement from day to day. But you'll be sorely disappointed if you thought you'd find any activities already set up in town. What this town needs is a woman to get the other women organized — a female leader. I don't have the time to pursue what needs to be done, since I have to help Fred out at least part of each day in the store. And the bookwork keeps me busy other times."

  Sunny thinned her lips in disappointment, ignoring Ruth's enthusiasm. "Ruth, none of the other women in town have even made an attempt to become acquainted with me. Given that, I fail to see how I could ever attempt to lead them at anything."

  Ruth leaned forward, propping her arms on the table. "The problem's not you, Sunny. It's Cassie."

  When Sunny raised an inquiring eyebrow, Ruth took a deep breath. "Oh, she didn't used to be like that, Cassie didn't. And at one time, we were fairly close friends, although she's ten years younger than me. I don't know what happened — Cassie turned into a different person after your mother left town. I tried for a while to keep our friendship going, but it became more and more apparent that Cassie didn't want anyone to be close to her any longer."

  "Did you know my mother?" Sunny asked eagerly. Right now, she wasn't the least bit interested in why her aunt was such an embittered and reclusive woman. She'd rather discuss her beloved mother with someone who might share her own feelings.

  "Of course," Ruth replied. "Samantha was a wonderful child, and she turned into one of the belles of the county. It was such a shock to all of us when she up and left, saying she was going to St. Louis to stay with a friend she'd met that one year she was away at finishing school. Cassie wouldn't say much about her after that, beyond the fact that she'd gotten married to a man named Fannin and they'd had a baby daughter."

  "Did she tell you my mother was killed in an accident just three months ago?" Sunny murmured, choking on her words.

  Ruth face broke into sympathy. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Sunny. No, Cassie didn't tell anyone. I would have known, if she'd even told one person, since absolutely everyone comes into the store fairly regularly. And Samantha's husband? Your father?"

  "I never knew him," Sunny said evasively. "He died before I was born."

  Something didn't jibe here, and Sunny's brow creased in puzzlement as Ruth murmured some of the same compassionate phrases she had heard at her mother's funeral. Why wouldn't Cassie have at least informed the townspeople of her mother's death? As Cassie had insinuated after her arrival, though, no one in Liberty Flats knew of her mother's death.

  Also, the one bone of contention between her and her mother had been her mother's adamant re
fusal to discuss the man she had married, beyond saying he was dead. Somehow, though, Sunny had had the impression that her mother had been married before she came to St. Louis. If she had been married while she lived in St. Louis, surely some of her friends would have remembered the wedding. The tentative inquiries Sunny had made now and then had all fostered the conclusion that Samantha had been a widow prior to her arrival in St. Louis.

  Cautiously, remembering the other reason for her trip to Liberty Flats and the mystery she was determined to solve, she probed Ruth's memory of her mother a little more.

  "Who else was my mother friends with, Ruth? It sounds like neither she nor my aunt were reclusive while they were growing up. I wonder what could have changed my aunt so much, since my mother continued to be very active and outgoing her entire life. She had scads of friends back home in St. Louis."

  "Didn't you talk to your mother much about her life back here, child?"

  "No." Sunny sighed deeply. "You know how it is. We were busy and happy, and I thought I had all the time in the world with her. Once in a while around Christmas time, when she'd get a card from my aunt, she'd mention maybe taking a trip back here some day. But she did tell me that her own mother and father had died a few months before she came to St. Louis, so there was only her sister Cassie back here as far as any family went. That Aunt Cassie had never married, so I had no cousins or anything like that here."

  Ruth dropped her gaze, then rather hastily shoved her chair back and stood. "Oh, my. Look at me sitting here and leaving you with an empty glass. Let me get you some more lemonade."

  Taking Sunny's glass, she bustled over to the counter and refilled it to the brim from the pitcher. When she picked up the glass, some of the liquid sloshed over onto the countertop. Ruth grabbed a rag from the sink to wipe up the spill, which seemed to take an inordinately long time. She even polished the cloth over and over on the counter for several long seconds, after the lemonade had clearly been wiped up. Glancing up at the window, she finally tossed the rag back into the sink and turned to carry the lemonade over to Sunny.