True to the Law (17 page)

“No. And if you keep whispering like that, he’ll hear you.”

“And well he should,
Gertie
.”

“Not amusing.” Tru set the apple tarts on the table and then took out a platter for the meat and potatoes. She lifted the roast and placed it on the dish before she arranged the potatoes around it and spooned more of the cooking juices over both. Turning back to the stove, she lightly touched the bowl of beets with her fingertips. Warm, not hot. She picked it up and handed it to Jenny along with a serving spoon. “Here. You take this, and I’ll bring the platter and the carving knife.”

“And the meat fork,” said Jenny. “You don’t want to bounce up and down from the table getting things.”

“Yes, Jenny, I’ll bring the fork. And please stop fretting. You’re making me nervous. This is hardly the first dinner we’ve had together.”

“It’s the first with
him
.”

“You’re going to drive me to drink.”

Jenny nodded. “See? It’s a gift.”

Cobb and Jim stood as the women entered. Jim took the platter from Tru’s hands. She moved his plate to one side so he could set it in front of him. Cobb waited for Jenny to put the beets down and then he held out a chair for her. Once she was happily settled, he did the same for Tru.

Tru waited for him to sit before she asked Jim if he would say grace.

“Guess I should before I commence to carving.” Knife and fork at the ready, he bowed his head and gave thanks.

Tru smiled to herself as Jim ended with an emphatic amen. There was never any danger that the meal would grow cold when he was leading the prayer. “Amen,” she said more quietly, closely following the echo of Cobb’s voice.

Jim sliced and served. Jenny started the beets around. They all had generous portions of everything.

“Perfection,” Jim said, tasting the beef. He hummed his pleasure in anticipation of the sweet beets as he speared one. “You make a meal worth looking forward to.”

Jenny gave her husband the gimlet eye. “And what do I make?”

“My life worth living, dear. You make my life worth living.”

Cobb and Tru smiled appreciatively while Jenny pretended to be only mildly mollified.

Conversation proceeded without awkwardness after that. Jenny and Jim sparred from time to time, but their comfort with each other made them easy company.

Tru had only one newsworthy item to contribute. “I received a letter from Mrs. Coltrane this morning.”

Jenny’s dark brows puckered. “And you’re only telling me now?”

“Well, I’m telling all of you now.”

“Yes, but I’m the one that’s most interested,
and
I was here first. Jim will only care if she sent you a new book, and Cobb doesn’t know her.”

Tru looked at Jim. “There was no book this time, but there was a postscript in Mr. Coltrane’s handwriting that he would be shipping complimentary copies of
Nat Church and the Runaway Bride
within the month.”

“Good to know,” said Jim. To Cobb he said, “You are familiar with the Nat Church novels?”

“I am. I believe I’ve read most of them.”

“I have them all. You’re welcome to take a look and borrow what you haven’t read, but don’t tell folks about the shipment coming. People will be waiting at the station every day until it arrives.”

“He’s right,” said Tru. “They’re very popular here, and Mr. Coltrane enjoys feeding the town’s appetite for them. Mr. Collins was disappointed when I didn’t open and read the letter right there in the station. Every bit of anything from the Coltranes is interesting to Bitter Springs.”

“That’s certainly the impression I have,” said Cobb. “Can I anticipate meeting them soon?”

Tru shook her head. “It seems unlikely. Mr. Coltrane indicated they were on their way to Pittsburgh and then New York.”

Jenny tapped her fork against her plate, drawing everyone’s attention. “That’s all very well, but Mr. Coltrane merely added the postscript. What did Mrs. Coltrane write?”

Laughing, Tru shared tidbits from the letter, mostly related to the Coltranes’ travels. “Oh, and this was something quite extraordinary. She also wrote that while she and her husband were in Memphis, she had an interview with a gentleman interested in teaching here in Bitter Springs. Apparently this man, and she did not share his name, was late discovering the notice she placed in the Chicago paper. She claims he was a determined gentleman.”

“He was if he found her in Memphis,” said Jim. “That would impress her.”

“Yes,” Tru said. “He definitely made an impression. She wrote that he had considerable experience and good character references in addition to his professional ones.”

Jenny could not hide her distress. “Why would she write such awful things to you? Does she mean to release you from your contract?”

Tru reached for Jenny’s hand and covered it, quieting her drumming fingers. “Calm yourself. Mrs. Coltrane meant nothing unkind by her remarks; in fact, her intent was the opposite of that. She wrote that by all accounts—and I take that to mean my own
and
Mrs. Sterling’s—it appears that I am happily settled in Bitter Springs, and she is very glad to know it. As much as she was impressed by this gentleman, she still is confident that she made the correct choice.”

Jenny had nothing to say except, “Oh.”

Amused, Jim raised an eyebrow at his wife. “That’s what is known as a horse of a different color.”

Tru saw that Cobb was watching Jenny as if he thought she might stab her husband with her fork. It was not an unreasonable suspicion, but if Jenny considered it, she heroically restrained herself.

At the end of the meal, Tru stood to clear the plates. Jenny started to rise to help her, but Tru waved her back. “It will only take me a moment. I’ll start the coffee and warm the apple tarts.” Jenny sat back down, but when Tru began to gather plates, it was Cobb who got to his feet and stayed there, collecting the meat platter and the bowl now empty of Harvard beets. He was so quick about it that Tru could not very well tell him to stop what he was doing. She thanked him instead and bit her tongue as he followed her into the kitchen.

“The bowl goes in the sink,” she said. “Put the platter on the table. I have to wrap what’s left of the meat and potatoes.”

She placed her armload of dishes in the sink and turned around. He was standing in front of her, blocking her path to the stove. She saw the platter was already on the table. He still had the empty bowl in one hand. He reached around her and dropped it in the sink.

“I need to brew the coffee,” she said.

“I know.”

“And warm the apple tarts.”

“So you said.”

Her eyes darted in the direction of the dining room. Standing where they were, they could not be seen. “What are you—”

Cobb did not let her finish. He bent his head and kissed her. He did not know if it was surprise or wanting that kept her still, but no part of her shied away while his mouth moved over hers. Except for his lips, he made no attempt to touch her. His fingers folded over the rim of the sink on either side of her waist. When he lifted his head, he kept his hands exactly as they were.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since you met me at the door. What color is that dress?”

She blinked. “My dress? It’s celadon.”

“I thought it was gray. Sometimes it looks more green than gray. I guess that explains why a color like that has its own name.”

“You’ve been wondering about that?”

“All through dinner. It was either that or keep thinking about your mouth. I could spend a lot of time thinking about your mouth.”

Tru pressed her lips together.

He smiled. “You can pretend you disapprove if it comforts you.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“I’m realizing that I am fairly tolerant myself. I don’t even mind if you lie.”

Tru brought up her hands between them and gave his chest a good shove.

“Go back in the dining room,” she said, waving him that way. Her voice dropped to a whisper as he turned. “And stop thinking about my mouth.”

Cobb was still grinning when he sat down at the table.

Jenny’s eyes narrowed on him. “You’re putting me in mind of a cat that’s been licking at the cream.”

Cobb shook his head, sobering. “No. I got my knuckles rapped for trying to swipe one of your tarts. I didn’t see that wooden spoon coming.” He rubbed the back of his hand for effect and then studied it as if checking for a bruise. “She’s fast on the draw.”

Jim chuckled. “My ma was like that. For a lot of years I thought she kept a spoon up her sleeve.” He regarded Cobb thoughtfully. “Do you reckon you’re faster with a gun than Tru is with a spoon?”

“Let me put it this way, I wouldn’t want to challenge her or bet on the outcome.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Jenny said, throwing up her palms. “Terry appointed him marshal, didn’t he?” She turned on Cobb. “And you accepted, didn’t you? Goodness, why so much secrecy?”

“Challenge me about what?” asked Tru. She handed the tray of plated tarts to Jenny to pass out while she poured coffee.

“Guns versus spoons,” Jenny said as if Tru should be able to make sense of it. “This has something to do with what Jim and Cobb were discussing with the mayor before they came in.” She held her husband’s apple tart at his eye level and just out of his reach. “Out with it.”

Jim didn’t even glance at Cobb before he caved. “Cobb’s been appointed our new marshal.”

“Is that right?” Tru asked, her eyes swiveling to Cobb. “You accepted?”

“Yes.”

Tru set the coffeepot down before it slipped from nerveless fingers. “So this means you’ll be staying.”

“Yes. For a while. At least until a more suitable candidate steps forward.”

Without taking her eyes off of Cobb, Jenny managed to lightly stab her husband’s hand with her fork. “How can you eat at a time like this?” Not really expecting an answer, she lifted the fork and smiled at Cobb. “Finding someone else could take a long time. You figure you’ll really stick around until then?”

“We’ll see. I’ve only had the position since this morning.”

“What about lodging? You’re not going to stay in those rooms above the office, are you? I’ve seen them. They’re not fit.”

“The mayor tells me there is money in the budget to pay for my room at the Pennyroyal. My board too.”

“Then you negotiated a good contract.”

“Actually there was no negotiation. Terry offered it straightaway. Come to think of it, no contract either. We shook hands.”

Unsure if he was telling the truth, Jenny’s look was vaguely suspicious. “I notice you’re not wearing a gun.”

“I wasn’t expecting a shootout at dinner.”

“He’ll know better next time,” Jim said in an aside to Tru.

Tru nodded. “Jenny, Jim’s right. Let him be.”

Jenny’s mouth opened, then closed.

“Eat your dessert, dear,” Jim said. “It’s delicious.”

* * *

Tru sat in the parlor, huddled in her robe in her favorite chair while she sipped whiskey and took stock of the evening. She judged that inviting Cobb to dine with them was not a mistake, although Jenny’s questioning over dessert had the feel of an interrogation. Fortunately, Cobb had seemed amused, not offended.

After dinner, they had moved to the parlor where they played dominoes as teams, first with the women matched against men, again with Jenny and Cobb against Jim and Tru, and finally with husband and wife facing teacher and marshal. Whatever the configuration, it was invariably Jim’s team that won. He was charged with putting the dominoes away for being so very good at it.

Their play had been relaxing, without real competition, and the barbs they exchanged were easily laughed off. Good whiskey had likely contributed to that, and the spirits might even have explained why Jim always won. He didn’t imbibe.

“Sly devil,” Tru said. She started when an ember popped in the stove and then chuckled quietly as she realized the source of the sound. It was because she was expecting Cobb, she realized. He’d given her no indication when he left that he intended to return. Not a nod, not a look, not a quiet word. He had walked out the door after Jenny and Jim so he had an opportunity to say
something
. She had waited, then . . . nothing.

It was the kiss in the kitchen that confused her. And his talk about her mouth and the color of her dress. Not just what he said, she remembered, but the way he said it. That voice, she heard it now, and it was still as smooth and warm as whiskey. It was hard to tell if it was his voice she felt stirring in the pit of her stomach, or the drink.

Perhaps he wasn’t coming because he was now the law in Bitter Springs. He would have the authority to arrest people who caused disturbances by pounding on doors in the middle of the night. He probably had realized that and was acting accordingly. Tru was not entirely certain she appreciated his caution in this instance.

She had wanted to ask him why he changed his mind about the position, but when Jenny began peppering him with questions, she kept hers to herself. There would be time to ask him later; it didn’t have to be tonight. She supposed they would share a table again at the Pennyroyal. He would not be breaking any laws.