Sheriff Takes A Bride

Just his luck the old woman did. “Your age, Pearl, is seventy-nine, not seventy,” Cam reminded. He couldn’t resist a smile at Hallie’s mouth, which had closed with surprise at Granny’s admission.

“I—I’m sorry, sorry about the...bite,” she said quietly, chagrined. “I can’t imagine what possessed her to...to...”

“Forget it,” he answered. “The old gal got the better of me. It’s not something that happens often.”

His words were a warning, Hallie suspected. The man was tough, down to his very last well-hewn muscle. She was curious what he was doing in these parts. No one came here unless they’d been born and raised in these mountains. The place was isolated, not to mention backwards, full of gossip. Hallie had only just gotten here, and already she was anxious to get back to Fort Worth. That was, after she cleared Granny Pearl, and the two of them had a good visit.

Perhaps she’d try once again to convince the elderly woman to move to Texas with her. Granny could be stubborn on the subject, but Hallie hated the thought of her being in that little cabin all alone, away from a hospital or doctor. The closest clinic was less than thirty miles away, as the crow flew, but much farther by car over the winding back roads. Granny had a car but she wasn’t that proficient a driver—and limited herself to buying her groceries at the small general store in Greens Hollow.

“Quit gabbin’ with that man and get onto the business of springin’ me,” Granny called to Hallie from behind the bars.

Hallie glanced at Cam and thought she saw him hide a quick grin, but she couldn’t be sure. Did he get a kick out of the old woman? Or did he want to get home? Just then the thought occurred to Hallie that he might have a wife waiting for him at that home, not to mention a houseful of little ones.

Then she thought again. The man didn’t look like the type who wanted a wife. He had an attitude, and it wasn’t one that rang with domesticity.

Hallie didn’t have time to consider Cam further. He was studying her curiously—and she didn’t want him to know she’d been thinking about him. Granny. Granny Pearl was the reason she was here in Greens Hollow—the only reason.

And she’d do well to remember that.

“About my grandmother,” she said. “I demand you spring...uh, release her. She’s elderly and shouldn’t be spending even one night in jail.”

“Not that easy, Ms. Cates. Your granny’s been accused of a crime. There’ll need to be a hearing—”

“A...hearing.” Of course. That would clear her grandmother, she was sure. “How soon?” she asked cautiously.

“Five weeks from today—at the county seat. Judge McBain.”

“Five weeks! Certainly you don’t mean to keep her locked up until...? I mean, what about bail? Releasing her on her own recognizance?” Hallie didn’t know much about legalities—but there was such a thing as rights.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t want to keep that woman under lock and key any longer than I have to,” he said. He leaned back in his desk chair, observing Granny Pearl for a moment over Hallie’s left shoulder. “Tell you what,” he said, righting the chair again. “I could be persuaded to release her into your custody until then—”

“Of course,” Hallie answered without hesitation and rose from her seat as if that settled it.

“Ms. Cates, not so fast.”

“I said I agreed.”

He smiled slowly. “I was about to add, provided you accept full responsibility for your grandmother’s actions, see she keeps to the straight and narrow, doesn’t skip the country—”

Hallie gave an exasperated sigh. “Sheriff, this is all ridiculous. My grandmother is not a criminal. Of course, she’ll obey the law.”

“Right,” he answered slowly. “And dogs don’t hunt.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked tersely.

“It means, dear Hallie, that you’re gonna have your hands full with Ma Barker over there.” He hooked a thumb in Granny’s direction.

At the moment the woman looked positively angelic. Hallie shoved the jail keys across the desk at him. “Just open up, Sheriff, so I can take my grandmother home.”

Chapter Two

Granny prattled on all the way to her cabin, not giving Hallie an inch of an opening, not a single chance to ask the big question: innocent or guilty? But for tonight Hallie wasn’t sure she wanted an answer from the woman. She was tired from her long drive here, cranky from dealing with Cam Osborne and with Granny, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into Granny’s spare feather bed, snuggle into the sheets line-dried in the Arkansas sunshine and let sleep take her.

Tomorrow, or the day after, would be soon enough to tackle the truth—if Granny Pearl would give it to her—and to seek legal counsel for her.

Hallie could just picture the little old lady in court, cussing out the judge, the hunk of a man who arrested her, and the world in general. It would not be a pretty sight—and one Hallie hoped they wouldn’t have to face.

George and Myrtle met them at the gate as Hallie turned her unflagging little Subaru into the drive. She saw why Granny was so devoted to the pair. They were cute, with their little black faces, their curiosityfilled eyes and friendly, brayed greeting.

“Oh, my little children are hungry,” Granny said and was struggling with the passenger door handle before Hallie had brought the car to a full stop.

The creatures could survive easily on the grass they kept close-cropped in Granny’s yard, not to mention the goodies they “stole” from her trash barrel, Hallie knew. But Granny insisted on feeding them extras—like her special corn bread, or whatever it was she had for her own supper each evening.

The woman was out of the car and hurrying, as nimble-footed as her goats, toward the back door. While Hallie struggled with her luggage in the trunk, Granny was back with two metal tins piled high with what looked suspiciously like her wonderful homemade honey biscuits. Hallie’s tummy rumbled and for a moment she was envious of the goats. What she wouldn’t give for a couple of those biscuits, warm from that old oven of Granny’s.

“I hope you saved one or two of those for the person who sprang you from jail,” Hallie teased as she carried her suitcase toward the cabin.

“Oh, Hallie, you must be thinking’ I’m a silly old woman.” She dropped the tins and affectionately admonished the goats to eat with manners, then raced toward her granddaughter. “I reckon you must be hungry as a bear after that trek of yours all the way from Texas. Come on in the kitchen, girl.”

It was nearly eleven, but Granny put on a spread anyway, every leftover in her small, antiquated refrigerator, plus the remainder of her honey biscuits, complete with her to-die-for raspberry jam.

Hallie knew if she was going to be eating Granny’s cooking she’d have to increase her exercise proportionately. And first off would be a walk through the piney woods that surrounded Granny’s property to search for that so-called still Cam Osborne claimed Granny was putting to use.

She just hoped she didn’t find one.

By the time Hallie had the dishes washed, Granny sat dozing in her rocker. How innocent she looked lost in sleep, her white hair spiked here and there in disarray, as if she’d been dragging a worried hand through it. Her skin was a soft, well-earned fine pattern of wrinkles, the pale pink blush on her cheeks natural and demure.

In repose she hardly looked like a moonshining grandmother. She didn’t look like a woman who would sink her teeth into a man’s arm, either—but Hallie had seen the evidence below Cam’s shirtsleeve.

“C’mon, Granny Pearl, let’s get you into bed, pronto,” Hallie said, stirring her gently.

Granny mumbled something incoherent, something that sounded like...wh’ lightnin’—which Hallie didn’t exactly find reassuring.

In the morning she would definitely have to have that look around Granny’s place—every square inch of it.

Cam didn’t have a clue how he happened to find himself on the road to Pearl Cates’s small cabin, but damned if that wasn’t where his four-by-four was headed.

If he were wise he’d breeze right on past the old woman’s property, maybe find that favorite stream of his, dig out the fishing rod he always carried with him, sit on the bank and sink a line—then spend the remainder of his afternoon forgetting Granny Pearl’s redheaded granddaughter. And what she’d done to his usually peaceful night’s slumber.

So she had glorious high cheekbones that glowed with the warm blush of summer, a pert little mouth—with that sassy tone not unlike her granny’s—and green eyes a man could drown in if he were so inclined.

But Cam wasn’t inclined.

He didn’t intend to make room for a woman in his life ever again. When a smart man got burned, he didn’t get near the flame a second time—and Cam considered himself a smart man.

He was only checking up on Pearl, he told himself, as he took the right fork toward her cabin in the woods. It was just a professional visit to be sure the old gal was keeping to the straight and narrow. And away from that still of hers.

Hallie was a bright woman, but he suspected she could be blinded by love—and she loved Granny Pearl. All of Greens Hollow did. Cam knew just how popular he’d be when the folks around here learned he’d brought the little old lady in and charged her with selling local lightning—especially when it cut off the supply for some of the town’s denizens.

He doubted Granny Pearl would admit the truth to her granddaughter. On the contrary, she’d have Hallie believing Cam was the meanest man in the county, a man who picked on little old ladies, kicked dogs and dewinged butterflies.

Was that his reason for stopping by the Cates place? Was he afraid Granny would paint a villainous picture of him to Hallie?

Why should he care if Hallie thought him a louse, a blackguard? He didn’t care. It was his job to uphold the law—and that’s all he was doing.

He turned the black Cherokee into the gravel drive and caught himself searching around for Hallie. But he found only George and Myrtle, those two silly creatures who butted any man who came onto Granny’s property or meant the old girl harm.

They didn’t much like Cam. In fact, last time he was here they’d tried their best to render him a soprano for the rest of his days. Cam had had to be plenty fast on his feet to save his manhood and other much-needed body parts.

He was just wondering if there was any chance of winning the two critters over when he glanced up and saw Hallie coming out the front door of the cabin. His breath caught in his throat. The afternoon sun cutting through the trees caught the red in her hair, releasing its fire. Was her passion as fire-hot? Damned if he didn’t wish he could sample it—just once.

“What brings you out here, Sheriff?” Her green eyes sparked with cool ice. “Searching for more little old ladies to arrest, are you?”

Her words hurt, but Cam wasn’t about to admit it, even to himself. “Are you going to shoot me on the spot or may I come in?” He indicated the gate that stood between them, the watch goats protecting it. Protecting her from the likes of him.

She seemed to consider her options, and taking her sweet time to do it, too. “That all depends,” she said finally, crossing her arms and eyeing. him cautiously.

“On what?”

“On whether or not this is an...official visit.”

Why did he have the feeling that whichever way he answered he was in trouble? If he said “official” she’d have her dander up royally, and if he said “friendly”, well, let’s just say, she didn’t exactly look...friendly toward him at the moment.

“I just happened to be passing by,” he parried. At least that was partly true. “I wanted to be sure Granny hadn’t suffered any ill effects from her...time in jail.”

That part Cam meant as well. He kind of liked the old woman, even if she was dangerous with those choppers of hers. As for her granddaughter...

Those blue jeans hugged her slender legs and shapely hips a little too delightfully for him to ignore at the moment. Her pert chin was raised a fractious notch, her mouth pursed like she’d just tasted an Arkansas persimmon—which only served to fire up his libido all the more. Her arms, crossed over her soft blouse, hid the shape of her breasts from view, but Cam had perfect recall from last night. Hallie Cates was missing nothing in the shape department.

Before Hallie could answer for her grandmother’s health Granny appeared behind her on the porch. “What you awantin’, Cam Osborne?” she barked in her unfriendliest voice.

“Good afternoon to you too, Granny Pearl,” Cam said wryly, which seemed to take Granny aback for a moment.

“Don’t go gettin’ all smart-alecky with me, Sheriff,” she said sharply. “I may be old, but I can still whup the likes of you.”

Hallie hid a slow grin and cadged a peek at Cam. He’d enjoyed Granny’s boast—and even looked like he might like to take the old girl on. That gave Hallie pause—Granny wouldn’t win with the man.

No woman would, she suspected.

That sent a tingle of something skittering through her, something akin to...heat. Cam Osbome was a very good-looking man. She hadn’t missed that fact last night, nor did she overlook it now. He stood as tall and rugged as a tree, his body every bit as hard, she suspected. The breeze feathered his dark hair, teasing it as a lover might. His face was all angles and planes, and every one of them pleasant to look at.

Granny had mentioned over breakfast this morning that the sheriff was single, that he’d come here from Chicago two years ago when Sheriff Potts had become ill and was forced to retire.

“And nothin’ ain’t been the same around here since,” Granny had lamented.

Looking at Cam Osborne now, Hallie could believe he was a man who would change things. When he kissed a woman she’d stay kissed. He’d no doubt rattle her senses, as well as her good judgment.

“Hallie, you can stand here talking to this man all day if you want, but I got things that need doin’,” Granny said and turned back toward the door. Hand on the screen she paused and glowered back at Cam. “You ain’t come here on any more funny business, have you, Sheriff?”

“Funny business?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Like haulin’ me back to that jail of yours.”

“That all depends, Pearl. Have you been moonshining again?”

Granny wouldn’t answer, just harumphed loudly and disappeared back inside the cabin.

Cam laughed low and long. Hallie added a glower of her own at the man, then reached for a quart fruit basket on the porch. “I have some raspberries to pick, so if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff...” she said, leaving her sentence—and her meaning—hanging. Hallie didn’t want Cam hanging around.

Instead Cam slipped open the latch on the gate. “I’m pretty good at berry picking,” he said. “That is, if you don’t mind some company.”

She gave him a slow, evaluating glance. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But...you’d better watch out for George and Myrtle.”

If she’d hoped that word of caution would give him second thoughts about joining her, she’d been wrong. Cam snapped the gate closed behind him and made his way toward her, giving George and Myrtle a wide berth as he did so.

She had to grin at his wariness. It was nice to know the big, tough sheriff possessed a little fear at times.

“Where are these berry bushes?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

“Not far.”

She kept moving, all too aware of him beside her.

He had that clean, fresh scent of a man, a mixture of soap and after-shave, and at the moment it was having a decided effect on her. His long legs could cover the terrain far quicker than she could, but he adjusted his stride to match hers. He moved with an easy grace, all-male and self-assured. There was a power to him that made her feel... vulnerable. And it was not a feeling she liked.

She didn’t need to go losing her head over Cam Osborne or any man, especially one from Greens Hollow again. She’d learned that lesson one summer long ago. And she hadn’t forgotten it.

Maybe it was why she didn’t come back here to visit as often as she should. Or maybe it was just that her life in Fort Worth was so full, so busy. It was where she’d gone to heal, and for the most part, she had—except for that one tiny part of her she knew never could.

Hallie bit her lip and pushed away the memory. It was just coming back to Greens Hollow again that tugged the past into awareness—but as soon as she had everything with Granny and the sheriff settled, she could leave.

She only wished she could convince Granny Pearl to leave as well, to move in with her, where she could keep a close eye on her.

The bushes were over the next rise, a tangle of briars and sweet berries that could make her mouth water. Granny didn’t prune them, just let them grow helter-skelter, wild as nature allowed. Hallie could already taste Granny’s raspberry cobbler, her famous pancake syrup.

No one could match Granny’s recipes, maybe because the prime ingredient was love. Hallie felt it, had always felt it, no matter how irascible the old girl could be at times.

“I hope you don’t mind a few scratches on your hands,” she said, “but it’s the only way to pick.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me. I can endure a scratch or two.”

“Even if you don’t get to sample the bounty later?”

Cam grinned slowly. “Who says I won’t?”

“I doubt very much that Granny’ll invite you to supper—not after you carted her off to the clink yesterday.” She frowned up at him. “Which brings up a question, Cam Osborne. Just what makes you so certain that Granny is operating a still? Have you actually found one?”

Hallie was certain he hadn’t; this morning she’d had a thorough look around Granny’s property, every nook and cranny of it. She’d found nothing.

“I wouldn’t have brought the old gal in, if I hadn’t,” he answered.

Hallie gaped up at him for a long moment, then turned and plucked a berry. “I don’t believe you,” she said, absently dropping the berry into her container.

Had she somehow missed the site?

Hallie didn’t think so.

“Would you like me to show it to you?” He picked a few raspberries from the vine, then leaned close to drop them into her basket.

He smelled like the mountain air, all clean and a little... untamed. And he rattled her, not just his claim about a still, but his presence so close to her. She could see the fine lines that fanned out from his eyes, lines that said he’d lived with a few hurts in his life too—and for a moment Hallie wondered what they had been.

His eyes were dark, a deep brown that could fire with passion, but also bespoke an innate honesty. It was the honesty that had her worried, but the passion she was all too aware of, a passion she’d be a fool to fall susceptible to. And she wouldn’t.

She turned back to her task. “I may just take you up on that, Sheriff,” she said quietly, “but first I have raspberries to pick. Granny’s expecting them.”

“Fine by me.”

Cam knew the woman beside him didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t eager to prove her wrong, to shatter that unshakable belief she had in Granny Pearl. Obviously Granny had not seen fit to fill her granddaughter in about her little... sideline. It might have made things easier for Cam if she had. Still, either way, he had the feeling Hallie was not about to warm to him anytime soon.

That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason—one he didn’t want to think about too closely—it did. He reached into the brambles to pick, leaving the more accessible berries for Hallie. Not that she would probably appreciate his chivalry.

She worked busily, gathering her bounty, the sun gently bronzing her arms left bare by her sleeveless white blouse. It was open at the neck three buttons, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Every now and then she swiped at a bead of perspiration that trickled down her neck.

The sun was hot—and growing hotter.

“So tell me about Fort Worth. What do you do there?” Cam was certain talk was better than fantasizing about whether she’d catch the latest bead of perspiration traveling toward that delectable hollow between her breasts.

She glanced up, her green eyes showing surprise that he’d ask a question about her personally. Well, damn, did she doubt he could be interested in one beautiful woman? He shouldn’t be, but he was curious about Hallie Cates.

She plucked another raspberry. “I’m a teacher, elementary school.”

“A teacher?” Cam gave a slow smile. “You don’t look like a schoolteacher to me.”

She raised her head again. “And just what in your estimation does a schoolteacher look like?” she asked.

“They wear their hair in tight little buns and have crow’s feet,” he answered. “At least they did when I was a kid.”

She let a smile slip at his remark, just a small one. “Give me a few years,” she returned. “Second-graders can age you rapidly.”

He liked her smile, wanted to see more of it, wondered what it would take to shake her dislike of him. Short of forgetting all about that still Pearl had been putting to considerable use. “Is that what grade you teach—second?”

She nodded.

He touched a red springy curl that whispered across the fair skin at her temple. “You, pretty lady, don’t have anything to worry about in the age department. And I’d wager all the little boys have a crush on you.” He knew he would if he were in that classroom.

A small laugh bubbled up from her throat. “A few,” she answered.

“I thought so. And how about big boys—any...men in your life, Hallie Cates?”

Why was he waiting for her answer? Why should he care if there was one—or twenty-one? But it seemed he was curious.

“That, Sheriff, is getting nosy—but since you asked, no. Teaching keeps me busy.”

“What a shame.”

“What...?”

That hadn’t been meant for Hallie’s ears. “I, uh, was just wondering how many berries we need,” he answered quickly.

She gave him a long, scrutinizing glance. “Right,” she said.

When she finally allowed that they’d picked enough to satisfy Granny’s recipe, Cam took the basket. “Let’s go take a look at Granny’s little enterprise,” he said. “It’s just at the end of that hollow.”

Hallie gaped. “That close to the cabin? I thought stills were always well hidden.”

“What can I say, the old girl obviously wasn’t worried about getting caught.”

By the sheriff, Hallie thought. She couldn’t imagine what it was the man planned to show her. She’d seen nothing that even vaguely resembled a still hidden anywhere on Granny’s property.

But Granny was just foxy enough to be up to something—and Cam seemed entirely too confident.

Chapter Three

It was cooler here in the hollow. The afternoon breeze whispered through, ruffling the ends of Hallie’s hair, the thick strands of Cam’s. The air was redolent with dogwood and a hint of pine. From above, the birds chattered away noisily.

“So just where is this so-called still you uncovered?” Hallie asked as Cam did his best imitation of a man searching around for a favorite pair of boots, and coming up empty.

Unless the still was small enough to hide under a rock it wasn’t anywhere around—and Hallie began to feel a whole lot better. She didn’t know whether Granny Pearl was innocent of Cam’s charges or up to her eyeballs in mischief, but she sincerely hoped the former was true and not the latter.

Cam let loose with a colorful curse even Granny could appreciate.

Hallie smiled. “Maybe this isn’t the right hollow. Maybe it’s somewhere else and your memory is a teensy bit off.” Her reply was meant more to antagonize than any real offer of explanation—and it hit the mark.

Cam’s eyes blazed. “Oh, no. This is the right spot all right. That sneaky old biddy has moved it, that’s what. She had no intention of shutting down operations. She’s just gone underground.”

“Underground?”

“A figure of speech. These things can be mighty portable in this part of the country. But I didn’t think Pearl had it in her to up and transport—” He stopped short and spun around to gaze dangerously at Hallie. “Unless maybe...”