*Pepper was still inside the Tack & Feed and it was now crowded with townspeople, all having heard the dismal news and anxious to see what was going on.
Jack broke from the group still gathered around the counter and walked toward her in the diner, where she’d been for the last few minutes, figuring out her plan.
“You okay?”
“Just need a few more minutes to insert the minutiae detail of my plan. It’s a cracker.”
“Pep,” he said, looking so serious she forgot all about the plan she didn’t have.
“There’s something in what they’re saying,” Jack said. “All the predictions.”
She put a finger to his lips.
“You do have the gift.”
“I refuse to talk about it.”
“I worry about you because I don’t know what’s going to happen to you.”
“Nothing.”
“If you’d just open up a bit and see how it feels to own the gift, you might at least begin to understand it. Maybe then you can make the decision not to use it.”
“If I do that, I’ll always know it’s there. I know myself well, Jack, I won’t be able to stop myself from testing it now and again. That’ll get me into trouble, and probably others. So I’m not going to talk about it anymore.”
She desperately wanted to reach up and kiss him. But not in front of everyone. The last thing she needed was for Jack to be involved in the middle of some romantic rumor.
She gave his arm a quick squeeze then turned her attention to the upcoming ordeal.
The police. She’d never been under their scrutiny before, and hopefully wouldn’t ever be again.
She headed for everyone still gathered by the counter, squaring her shoulders. There was no need of a plan, she’d deal with things one step at a time.
“So what’s the plan?” Walter asked.
Pepper turned to her aunt. “Marie, can you handle the press?”
“I did not hear you say that.”
“Jack, I think we should all move to the porch on my cabin and speak to the police there. That way everyone on the street, including the press, will hear what’s being said and nobody can spread more lies.”
“You got it.” Jack turned and ushered everyone out of the Tack & Feed explaining what he wanted from them as he went and advising them not to take part in any discussions with the press but to let the police handle things.
The press had begun arriving five minutes ago, well ahead of the cops.
“What now?” Walter said.
“First things first, whatever you do, say nothing unless asked directly by the police or whoever they send from the health services. Leave it all to me.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, still concentrating hard on what Pepper was saying.
So why did she have a bad feeling this wasn’t going to happen?
“Not a word, remember?” she said, peering at each of them.
Walter zipped his lips and everyone else nodded agreement.
“This is just a little setback,” she advised. “It’ll be over almost before it’s begun.” Or before it had time to spread like a bushfire. “Let’s go.”
She led them outside and along the street. The swell of townspersons was added to with the tourists still around, and the weight of the press. Two dozen, easily. She didn’t need to wonder why there were so many. The valley had been in the headlines many times in the last year.
She stepped up onto her porch, her comrades following and gathering behind her.
Everyone else had followed them, like they’d followed the Pied Piper, and were congregated expectantly on the street.
Jack was making his way through the press, then got stopped by a female reporter.
She said something to him and he smiled, but it looked a bit sheepish.
Two more reporters surrounded him and questioned him. He backed away, still smiling.
“Here they come!” someone shouted.
Everyone on the street turned as a police car drove into town.
“Everything all right?” Pepper asked when Jack joined her on the porch.
“Yeah. No big deal.”
No big deal about what?
She didn’t have time to ask.
“All right, folks, let’s not get excited,” the officer who stepped out of the patrol car said.
He was followed by a tall, gangly man in a black wool suit who must be sweltering, but it didn’t look like he was sweating.
The officer’s gaze landed on Pepper. “Miss Mackillop? Deputy Carl Lewis, Randall County Sheriff’s Office.”
Pepper drew herself up. “How can I help?”
He glanced at his companion. “This is Mr. Brown. He’s been instructed by the health department to check on some activity in town.”
Nobody moved.
Mr. Brown studied a clipboard, flicking through paperwork.
The deputy watched him, one thumb hooked into his heavy belt, as though waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, Deputy Lewis said to Pepper, “I’m here in an official capacity, but I’ll let Mr. Brown talk first.” He took a step back. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Brown.”
Mr. Brown looked up, his face pale and his eyes almost jet black.
How could he not be sweating in this heat and that thick wool suit? He must have the hide of a lizard.
“Miss Mackillop,” he began. “I’m here to discuss picnic food you prepared, some boiled eggs that were sold, and vats of homemade ice cream that were handed out to the public.”
“There shouldn’t be any issue with the picnic food, because—”
“You can only sell food at a market, a nonprofit fair, by direct delivery to your customers, or directly from your home.”
Her home? Heck. That was the thing she’d forgotten to consider. “I wasn’t selling it. I made it for a working bee picnic. But if I had been selling it, I have all my licenses.”
“You sold semi-boiled eggs from the Tack & Feed establishment, which is a commercial, retail business.”
Winona gasped.
“I did sell those eggs,” Pepper said, keeping her expression neutral. “But at the time, that part of the store wasn’t functional.”
“That’s a lie about the eggs,” Noah said, pushing through the geek boys on the street. “She didn’t sell them. I did.”
Pepper stared at him. “Noah—”
“Actually, if you remember, it was me,” Dylan dropped Winona’s hand and stood shoulder to shoulder with his friend.
“Dylan!”
“What terrible memories young men have. It was I.” Miss Matilda’s voice was as firm as her stance.
Pepper put her hand up to get Mr. Brown’s attention. “If we could just bring the focus back to me—”
“I handed them out,” Walter said, stepping forward.
“And I took the money,” Mr. Watson informed everyone.
Pepper swept a hand across her eyes. She knew they wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.
“What about the ice cream?” Mr. Brown asked.
“I made that,” Mr. Harris said, smiling broadly. “Along with my good friend here, Miss Matilda. We didn’t sell it though, we just gave it away.”
“I helped hand the ice cream out during moments I wasn’t busy selling the eggs,” Miss Matilda said.
“It’s Miss Mackillop’s name on my list!” Mr. Brown said crossly. “I have been instructed to warn her—”
“But it wasn’t her!” Noah said loudly.
Deputy Lewis cleared his throat. “Looks like we’ve got a stalemate situation here. Maybe it was all just a little mistake. An error many of us could have made. What do you think, Mr. Brown?”
“Let’s move on,” Mr. Brown said, peering at Pepper with his expressionless eyes. “It’s our understanding you cooked Rice Krispies Treats here, in this cabin, then sold them to the public.”
“Not true. They were handed out free and like I said, I have all relevant food handlers licenses.”
“Free?” Mr. Brown said, piercing her with a look from his expressionless jet-black eyes. “Free so long as the public purchased a coffee or an iced tea from a commercial establishment.”
Okay, where did she stand with that one?
“It was my idea,” Walter said, raising his hand. “I’m the Tack & Feed owner and I forced Miss Mackillop to give out the treats. I practically blackmailed her to do so.”
“Walter, I’ve got this.” Pepper indicated with her hand that he step back.
“Anything else, Mr. Brown?” the deputy asked.
“Most definitely.”
Of course, he probably had five dozen more complaints he could pull out of the pocket of his thick woolen jacket.
“We know about your intent to open Pepper’s Gourmet,” Mr. Brown said, “and it’s our belief you started that enterprise from this cabin without registering your home business.”
Whose payroll was this lizard on? Donaldson’s, undoubtedly.
“I remind you it was a private picnic, and I’m renting this cabin and as I haven’t got my gourmet business up and running yet there was no need for me to register it.”
“You still neglected to follow state cottage food law guidelines about running a food business from your home.”
“I haven’t got a home, I’m no longer living in this cabin, and it wasn’t a cottage food or food business—I just told you, it was a private picnic.”
“So who cooked the boiled eggs and where were they cooked?” Mr. Brown asked.
“I think we’ve determined that,” Deputy Lewis said, then looked directly at Pepper. “Are you saying you’re homeless? Because if so, and if you did bake the Rice Krispies Treats that were given out with purchased coffee and tea then that might give us a problem.”
Damn. “Technically, no. I’m not homeless. I’m at Daybreak Lodge.” Best not to say she was in a tent and not the house.
“You own the deeds? Or do you lease it?”
“I’ve got the key. Well, my friend Jack has the key.” Okay, this wasn’t going well.
“The house belongs to this lady,” Jack said. “Her grandmother owns it; Miss Mackillop has inherited it. The handover paperwork hasn’t been finalized yet, that’s all.”
Deputy Lewis sucked in a breath. He glanced at the man with the clipboard as though willing him to let him get back to real policing.
“There was no intent to deceive,” Jack persisted. “Or to make money from what was genuinely a community get-together.”
“Apart from the boiled eggs,” Mr. Brown pointed out.
The deputy held up a hand. “Let’s not go backward here, people. Let’s stick to where we are now. Mr. Brown, do you have any reason to hold Miss Mackillop responsible for violation of state laws?”
Mr. Brown studied his clipboard again then inhaled deeply. “No.”
Oh, how that man wanted to say, sadly, no.
“That’s it then, folks. Let’s clear the street. You,” Deputy Lewis said to Pepper. “I need a word.”
Pepper stepped down to the street, Jack behind her.
Mr. Brown was stomping toward the police vehicle, pushing his way through the throng of reporters all hurling questions he ignored.
“How lovely to see you again, Carl,” Marie said, coming into their midst. “How’s your beautiful wife? I’m longing to meet her. I was just telling the press—they can’t possibly believe what’s being said in that rag, the Texas Portal.”
“Is that so?” the deputy said, looking down his nose at Marie. But there was a smile in his eyes. Hardly noticeable, but there. “I’ve got a right mess on my hands, Marie. Please don’t tell me you’re responsible.”
“Little old me? It’s the Portal you should be questioning. Followed quickly by Donaldson’s Development.”
“We’ll get to that later.” He put his focus on Pepper. “My fine officers are currently run off their feet directing traffic when they should be out detaining bad guys. Thanks, it would appear, to you.”
“Tell him, Pep,” Jack said, nudging her. “Tell him everything.”
While Pepper regained her composure ready to face the next barrage of questioning, she couldn’t help feeling exceptionally proud to be a homegrown member of the spectacular little town of Reckless. Annoyed with her friends though she was, a gratefulness engulfed her at the thought of them being just that. Her friends. She’d never had so many friends.
The deputy peered down at her. “Talk.”
She told him everything she knew. About Axel and the possibility he was Bob Smith the thug, and how she thought he’d infiltrated the town via herself and the Shrimps and was sending inside information to Donaldson’s Developers, at which point the deputy’s gaze shot to Marie. “We’re not going to have any fights here, are we? I had enough of those developers the last time I was out here in the valley.”
“Who knows, Carl? But if there is it won’t be of our doing.”
“While I understand you’ve got some issue going on,” he said to Pepper, “and that the press is hounding you, your account of what happened and why doesn’t help with my traffic problem.”
“But it’s not her fault,” Jack interjected. “There might have been a little hiccup with one or two of our townspeople getting a bit excited about new opportunities, but we’re convinced no one will genuinely get sick. The stories in the Portal about seven people getting ill were made up. You can look into it, can’t you?”
Deputy Lewis pulled his mouth up at one side. “All right. I’ll leave it as is for now, but I’m warning you—and you,” he added, looking pointedly at Marie, “if I get any more complaints about this town, I’ll be back, and I’ll take you all in for questioning. The whole damn town if need be. Understood?”
Pepper nodded. “Understood, Deputy Lewis. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he mumbled as he turned. “Marie. No getting your broomstick out.”
“What do you think I am? A witch?”
There it was again, that light of amusement in his eyes. “I’m not rightly sure.”
Marie shrugged in a playful, flirty manner, and Deputy Lewis shook his head.
Pepper fanned her face with her hand as he walked off to his patrol car and Mr. Brown who was ensconced in the back seat, looking straight ahead and clutching his clipboard. “Well, that’s dealt with. What’s next?”
“Hopefully nothing,” Jack said.
“We did get out of it quite easily, didn’t we?” And she was a little bothered about that.
“Angel,” Marie said to Pepper, putting a hand on Jack’s arm. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of this magnificent man. I have work to do. Noah. Dylan. Follow me. We have blogs to set up. Some people out there are about to get a wake-up call and everyone who’s putting out the bad word on us is about to feel the sting of the end of my broom.”
“She’s right,” Pepper said to Jack once Marie had left and they were alone. “You are magnificent in certain areas, under certain conditions.” She batted her eyelashes. “Like beneath canvas.”
“I can’t begin to tell you how much I want to kiss you right now.”
“What were the reporters saying to you earlier?” she asked.
“Nothing much. Come on, let’s get going.”
The reporters had dispersed into two groups—the Amarillo Globe and the Texas Portal and it didn’t look like they were ready to leave.
“What’s going on?” Pepper asked.
“Let’s go,” Jack said and took her hand.
“No, wait. Something’s about to happen.” Or had already occurred.
The reporters were heads down over their phones and iPads, intent on whatever they were reading or looking at.
Then someone from the Portal shrieked with laughter.
“Miss Mackillop! We’ve discovered your house, Daybreak Lodge, is haunted. Care to tell us about it?”
“It’s part of our folklore!” It wasn’t as if the old rumors about the great-grandfathers haunting the place weren’t common knowledge. “Just stories. It could be true, it could be fable but this is what I live with. Cut me some slack, would you?”
A few laughed good-heartedly but she had a feeling they weren’t out of the woods yet.
“Care to tell us about the curse on your head?” another said. “How are you coping with that?”
“Care to swap places with me and find out for yourself?”
More laughter, but where had they gotten all this fresh information? Some telephone call from Axel King—wherever he was—to Donaldson’s office here in Texas who sent it straight to the Portal?
Jack put his hand on her lower back. “Come on, let’s go.”
“What about the guy you can’t get to marry you?” a woman reporter from the Globe asked.
Oh crap. They knew about the would-be?
“I don’t know,” a female colleague said. “Looks to me like that tall, good-looking man at her side has a definite thing for her.”
Jack stiffened.
“Miss Mackillop, are you standing next to the man who’s meant for you? The one the curse refers to?”
“Is he going to break this curse if you can get him to marry you? Or is he reluctant?”
There was another burst of laughter from the Portal employees, but the Globe people were waiting, watching. They saw a story here. A real story.
“She could bribe him!” a man from the Portal said. “But she won’t have any money after all those sick people who ate the eggs sue her! She has to get him to marry her or this town will go under. Hey,” the reporter said to Jack, “why are you both living in a tent? Is this some new form of romance therapy?”
They knew about the tent? This wasn’t good. Someone had been spying on them.
“Can’t a guy have some privacy when he’s trying to get a woman to like him?” Jack said, with a smile.
Pepper glanced up at him. This must be killing him, yet he was playing along. But now everybody knew they were together, living in a tent at Pepper’s haunted house.
“Can we have your name please, sir?” one Globe journalist asked Jack.
“I don’t think I can be of much interest to you,” Jack said calmly.
“Shepperd,” said a Portal guy, reading from his iPad. “Jack Shepperd. Owns Nightshade Downs, a ranch on the outskirts of town. He was born here. He’s thirty years old, six-foot-one. Been working on a horse ranch in Arizona for the last five years. No criminal charges ever laid against him. Got a healthy bank balance and looks like he’s had a few wins on his investment portfolios.”
How the hell did the Portal get this information, and what were they going to do with it? Pepper looked up at Jack. His features were set, his partial smile set like it had been dunked in concrete, but she sensed his displeasure.
“Don’t forget good-looking!” a woman colleague yelled out. “Calendar material. Did you always know you’d been singled out as a husband for a Mackillop, Mr. Shepperd?”
Pepper gritted her teeth. “Don’t answer that,” she whispered.
*
Jack felt Pep’s fury as though it was his own. She was tense with it, her eyes glowing with annoyance.
“If you want to dig up some fun stories,” he said to the press, “I suggest you take a look at the back issues of the Texas Portal. It’s full of fairy tales.”
“Sadly for you, Mr. Shepperd,” a woman from the Globe said, “the Portal is about to add to them.” It was said wryly, and perhaps with some sympathy.
“So what’s your story?” a Portal reporter asked him. “Are you and Miss Mackillop an item?”
“How long have you been going out?”
“They’re not!” a man interrupted. “She can’t get him to marry her.”
Somebody laughed, and more joined in.
“They don’t want the truth, Jack,” Pepper said in a near whisper. “They’re just after a stupid story.”
“I’m aware of that.” He didn’t care what they thought about him, but he cared considerably what they might do or say next and how it would affect Pep. “Mr. Frye,” he said, turning to the cabin porch, “will you lock up Pep’s cabin? I need to get her home.”
Mr. Frye nodded. “Leave it to me.”
“I’m going to need your assistance later, too. I’m going to need a few people’s assistance tonight, and tomorrow.”
“Whatever you need. We’re here.”
“I’ll call you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pep whispered.
“I told you, don’t worry about it.”
“But this puts you in the spotlight.”
He took her hand and squeezed, but again, she pulled from his grip.
“It was supposed to be all about me. Now I’ve gotten everyone involved. The townspeople. You.”
“Our townspeople are doing fine. They’re into it. They’ve got something to concentrate on with the new blogs.”
“But the newspapers are going to plaster your photo everywhere, and the whole of Texas is going to know about you. You’re going to hate it.”
Wasn’t that right.
This placed him in a difficult situation regarding his intent to pursue her with any genuineness. He’d wanted her to fall for him gradually, unaffectedly, in her own time. But he’d now been thrust into the arena of her life. They’d make up stories about him. They’d make his life look ridiculous. And he’d lost any ground he might have had with Pep.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
“We’re living in a tent.”
“And it’s currently the only place we have to park our saddles.” And the only place he could ensure their privacy and safety. He took her hand again and gripped it firmly enough that she wouldn’t pull from him, then led her along the street toward his pickup, keeping a smile on his face but not engaging with the press that surrounded them, firing questions about romance and love, whether they intended to get married, and whether that marriage would just be a convenience until the curse was lifted.
Pep was muttering her own curses, all of them aimed at the Portal and Donaldson’s.
He kept them moving.
“Have you been in love with her all your life, Mr. Shepperd?”
“Have you asked him to marry you, Miss Mackillop?”
“Jack, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Pep.” They were nearly at the pickup. He pulled his keys from his pocket.
“Do you believe in this curse, Mr. Shepperd?”
He opened the passenger door and stood guard while Pep got in, although he had to practically push her in because otherwise she was going to get out of the cab and start a verbal battle with anyone who wanted it.
He moved to the driver’s door, managed to stop himself from yanking it open, got in and fired the engine.
Yeah. Right that moment, he was sure the curse was real.