Jesse fidgeted with the coffee cup while he kept one eye out the window for any sign of the boy. A few hours ago, after the kid had almost killed him, he wanted nothing more than to take his belt to Nathanial’s ass. Now he just wanted the kid safe at home.
A spattering of flakes fell, and a shutter clapped. It had to be below freezing with that wind.
Sheriff Crosson took a sip of his coffee, peering over the rim. “Tipsy knows the terrain south of Gray Rock, toward Buttonwood. That’s his territory. He would be familiar with where to hide. Could be that he changed directions, went that way to throw us off. Let us think we were running him out. Then when we stopped tailing, he turned around.”
How could the sheriff think straight enough to explain it to Jesse at a time like this? Jesse couldn’t focus on any of that, not when Nate had been gone so long. Sheriff Crosson didn’t say a word about his son possibly being missing, but it had to be on his mind.
Where was that boy? It was after dark, and before taking the baby upstairs to bed an hour ago, Mrs. Crosson said Nathanial was overdue.
Maybe the kid had stayed and eaten supper with one of his buddies. Surely if the boys had gone out and been whooping it up, playing Indians, they weren’t still out.
Mrs. Crosson was sitting on the edge of the settee, twisting the stitches with the long knitting needles, then pulling them loose because she’d made another mistake. Her mind wasn’t on her work.
She threw the needles down on her lap. “Why don’t you go get our son?” She must not have been able to take another minute of worry.
Jesse could hardly sit still. It had been that way for the past hour while he waited for the sheriff to say the word.
Sheriff Crosson stretched back in his chair. He seemed awful damn comfortable, considering his boy was out there somewhere and so was Tipsy. “I don’t figure Tipsy is close enough to Gray Rock tonight that I have to run after Nathanial. I have no intention of scaring him by telling him about Tipsy. I don’t want him afraid of moving about, but he sure ain’t making my job as father or sheriff any easier.”
Sheriff Crosson hadn’t gained his famed reputation by being dumb. He’d dealt with evil minds like Tipsy’s before, and that truth helped soothe Jesse’s nerves. He was just learning how criminals thought.
Mrs. Crosson looked pointedly at the father of her children. “Nathanial is used to having your lone attention. I believe that’s why he’s been acting up lately. It isn’t like him to stay out past dark.”
Jesse keenly sensed this petite woman might just have a bit of mother grizzly in her. Though she wasn’t showing her claws yet.
“What about Elizabeth?” Papa Bear took another swallow of coffee.
Mrs. Crosson huffed. “I cannot believe you just said that. Elizabeth is Nathanial’s baby sister. That is far different than you spending time with Jesse. And I’ll remind you of what Nate did when Elizabeth was due to be born.”
At the unexpected mention of his name, Jesse stiffened, damn near spilling his coffee all over his lap. He hadn’t ever figured the boy’s orneriness was due to jealousy. Hell, there was simply nothing the kid should envy. Jesse certainly didn’t see the half-pint as a rival. Yes, he wanted to work alongside the sheriff and have a friendship with the man, but by no means was he trying to steal away the boy’s pa.
“If you think it best, ma’am, I can git a room at the hotel.” Jesse set aside his cup and started to stand. He didn’t want to cause troubles for this family. In a short time, his fondness for the Crossons had grown a great deal. He just wished the half-pint would give him a try.
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want you to leave. I want Nathanial to be okay with you staying.” Mrs. Crosson smiled tenderly, honest. She’d probably never once bent the truth.
She patted his knee as he sat back down. Then she turned and faced her man. “Our son, as you know, is insecure. Nathanial needs reassurance that you care, that you’re not giving up on being his father.”
Jesse thought what she said was rather peculiar. Why would the boy believe his pa would just throw him away like trash? Sheriff Crosson wasn’t that kind of man. Jesse had no doubt of that.
“Jesse’s my deputy. This is nonsense. Nate knows better than that.” The sheriff took another swallow of coffee.
“How many sheriffs bring their deputies home to live?” She dabbed at her eyes. “Husband, please go fetch Nathanial home.”
Strangely, Jesse wasn’t feeling uneasy with the conversation going on around him. He was relieved to know what was eating at the boy. Maybe he could explain to the kid that he was thinking about this all wrong. Ten to one, the kid wouldn’t hear him out. But it would be worth the headache if he could convince the boy to drop the bad attitude for everyone’s well-being.
Mrs. Crosson’s tear-filled eyes were that of a mother struck with worry sickness. Jesse had to hold his nerve to keep from jumping up, running to the barn, and saddling his horse. Despite the fact that he agreed with her and her sad eyes were working him over, Sheriff Crosson had just handed Jesse the deputy’s badge that day, so maybe he shouldn’t go pushing his luck by picking sides against his new boss. But Mrs. Crosson was absolutely one hundred percent right. The boy should be fetched home where he was safe.
The sheriff grumbled, more to himself than anyone, as he stood to go make his wife happy. “Nathanial knows to be in this house before dark. A night without supper might make him think so the next time he’ll git himself home on time.”
Jesse snickered.
Sheriff Crosson was a tough man with one big weakness—he couldn’t exactly say no to his woman. Jesse didn’t care. If he had himself a wife as fine as Mrs. Crosson, he’d be whipped too. Besides, he’d been ready to go find the half-pint the past hour or more.
He grabbed his coat, fastening the buttons and shoving his hands into his pockets for warmth as he followed the sheriff toward the barn. It was too damn cold to be out tonight. He hoped this was quick.
Sheriff Crosson stopped midstep, staring toward the corral. Jesse bumped into him. The buckskin stood huddled with the bay and the old mare. If Buck was there, that meant the boy was on the ranch someplace. The wind must have kept them from hearing him ride in, or he’d walked his horse real slow to go unnoticed. As a boy, Jesse used to hide in the loft when he’d been in trouble.
“I’ll check the barn.” He walked past the sheriff, who headed back toward the house.
It had taken a minute until Jesse got a match struck and lit the lantern. When he had checked the barn top to bottom and found it empty, he blew out the lamp, closed the door, and hustled into the house.
A mixture of voices streamed down from the top of the stairs. What was going on up there? The sheriff’s voice was raised, and it didn’t sound good. Jesse took the steps in three stretching strides, not knowing what he might find.
The sheriff and the missus faced Nathanial’s door. Sheriff Crosson grabbed the knob and jiggled it a few times. His face was beet red, and Jesse wouldn’t be surprised to hear some cursing. Mrs. Crosson didn’t look any happier. Jesse would bet that knob had been tried before that, maybe all the while he’d been searching the barn. He wouldn’t want to be in Nathanial’s boots when that door opened.
The sheriff backed off as Jesse stepped forward, reached for the handle, and shook the knob. Somehow the clever little devil inside had braced it tight shut. How had he gotten in there? Not through either house door. They would have seen him. There was only one way upstairs, and Jesse, the sheriff, and Mrs. Crosson had all been seated around the fire in the sitting room. The kid could have shimmied up the porch post and crawled in through his bedroom window, which wouldn’t have been easy. The roof would be slick, covered in frost from the icy temperature.
Jesse threw a shoulder into the door, not budging the wood.
Sheriff Crosson pushed him aside, then pounded a few times on the door. “Nathanial, open this door now!”
The kid had slipped into the house unseen and holed up, which showed he was savvy, but what he was doing wasn’t too damn smart. The way Jesse saw it, the boy should face his trouble instead of hiding from it. Jesse had thought of running away lots of times, to hide, to get away from the misfortune that came with his name. His thinking was different now that the sheriff had taken him in.
How could Jesse convince the boy to see the mistake he was making? The kid was only heaping more trouble on himself by being in there and, extra worse, by ignoring his pa. The half-pint seemed to be playing opossum.
“Son, you’d best open this door!” Sheriff Crosson’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the knob. Who knew how many times the kid had been warned before Jesse came upstairs to lend a hand?
“You think I’m dim? I ain’t openin’ this door.”
By God, that boy was brazen. Jesse almost wanted to snicker.
The sheriff looked to be one snorting breath from kicking down the damn thing. If he did, the kid was in for one hell of an ass whipping. He reckoned no matter what, the half-pint was in big trouble.
The sheriff marched down the stairs with the missus on his heels. She was half in tears.
“What if Nate runs away?” Mrs. Crosson henpecked.
Left alone in the hall, just the two of them, Jesse tapped softly on the door. “Nathanial, let me in.”
“You’re more addlebrained than what I first thought. Why would I let you in?”
Jesse couldn’t think of a good reason other than he wanted to help, but he knew the boy didn’t trust him. “Give yourself up, kid. Every minute this door stays closed, you’re just makin’ your punishment worse. I can talk to your pa. Maybe he won’t spank ya but just give ya more chores or something.”
Jesse felt bad for the little boy. Oh, the ornery cuss deserved a good whipping, but Jesse remembered his own tannings. He didn’t want to see the kid in trouble like last night.
“Go away! This is all your fault! Pa don’t even see me no more!”
Jesse felt low. Some of the blame did belong on his shoulders. Mrs. Crosson was right. The boy’s jealousy was stoked.
“Look, kid. I’m here till spring, workin’ as your pa’s deputy, and that’s all.” Jesse didn’t want to give up his badge come the season of fresh buds, but he didn’t know what else to say to make the boy feel better.
Without warning, the door flung open and smacked against the wall, startling Jesse, and he took a step back. The boy’s little chest puffed out, his face wrinkled up mean, and feet spread shoulder-width apart as he stood squarely in front of Jesse. Nate’s small fists clenched at his sides, and he glared with a fire in his eyes at the star pinned on Jesse’s shirt. As quick as the door had opened, it slammed in his face.
Dammit all to hell, he should have thought before mentioning the badge. The boy saw himself as his pa’s one and only deputy. Jesse had trampled the kid down without meaning to drive yet a bigger wedge between them. He was sorry. This certainly wouldn’t help the whole jealousy thing.
The stomp of boots echoed in the hallway. Jesse turned and faced Sheriff Crosson marching up the stairs as he returned.
“Step aside.” Sheriff Crosson held a small claw hammer.
Jesse would have liked to help the kid out of this unpleasantness if it were possible, but it was too late now. Nathanial only wanted what any boy who had a good father wished for, and that was more time with the man he looked up to the most. Jesse couldn’t fault the kid for that. Once upon a time, before learning the truth, he wished for that himself. This boy’s truth was that Nathanial had a great father.
Jesse stood quietly next to Mrs. Crosson, who arched her neck for a peek. Their view was blocked by the sheriff’s back. That squeaky prying noise wasn’t the knob. Mrs. Crosson looked over at Jesse with her brow raised, and he shrugged. The door shifted off one hinge, and Jesse believed Sheriff Crosson was plumb brilliant.
“Shit!” The curse flew out from behind the door, and there were lots of ruffling noises. A few minutes ago when that door had flung open, Nathanial stood before Jesse in a long nightshirt. If he guessed right, the boy was hurrying, throwing on clothes.
Sheriff Crosson lifted the door free and quickly set the panel against the wall. Jesse ducked into the room close behind him. Nathanial had just thrown open the window and pitched himself rolling out onto the porch roof.
Sheriff Crosson ran for the stairs. Jesse was on his heels, followed close by Mrs. Crosson.
The house door was slammed open with a bang against the wall. They piled onto the porch, then stood still, breathing heavy and listening. Above their heads, the kid scrambled across the roof.
The boy swung down, grabbing a corner post. Nathanial couldn’t see them below him, not yet anyway. Sheriff Crosson was right there, and he swung an arm. The boy had just begun to slide down to freedom when the strong hand yanked him off the post.
Jesse was impressed with the attempted escape.
He couldn’t watch as the sheriff threw Nathanial over his knee. He walked into the house with Mrs. Crosson to get away from those awful cries working him into a sweat. Jesse had never doubted the boy was going to get it. After almost being trampled, he shouldn’t care, but he was never one to hold a grudge. Besides, Nathanial was just a youngster.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I think I’ll go check on the horses.” Jesse made a move toward the back door so as not to walk out in the middle of it.
Before he could hightail it out of there, Nathanial, face streaked with tears, was marched in by the arm and up the stairs. Jesse’s feet seemed to root to the floor, and never had he felt so awful uncomfortable.
“If you git outta that bed before the sun’s up, you’ll get another spankin’.” Sheriff Crosson’s stern tongue-lashing shook the windows, heard the whole way downstairs as plain as if he and the kid were standing right in front of Jesse.
Not that Jesse meant to listen. It all just happened so quick. He still wasn’t sure which way to scat.
Why hadn’t the kid just opened the door the first time he was asked? It might not have ended this badly. Those sobs pouring down from upstairs broke Jesse in two. Maybe later, after things settled down, he would offer to read to the boy.
The sheriff came down, shaking his head. The boy’s pa was still awfully red. Jesse hesitated, then went into the sheriff’s office where he had taken a seat and poured himself a drink. He slid the bottle across the desk toward Jesse.
“I believe your missus is right. I can’t help but think that tonight was partly my fault.”
Sheriff Crosson poured himself another. “Did you provoke Nate into trying to run you down?”
“Not intentionally.” Jesse filled his glass.
The sheriff nodded. “That’s correct. You did not. I heard every word. You were in the right and explained Nathanial’s actions fairly. That saddle cost plenty. You might be a young man, but you’re still a man and you’re my deputy. Both them things deserve respect. For whatever reason, my son doesn’t seem to understand how to treat you. I’ll teach him, though he knows better. And there may be times, like tonight, when it ain’t too nice, but none of that’s your fault.”
Jesse set down his glass. He’d thought the sheriff might give him some advice on how to handle the boy’s jealousy, but the sheriff still wasn’t completely seeing it.
Jesse headed up the steps. When he got to Nathanial’s door, he stopped. Poor kid was sniffling in his sleep. He grabbed the pirate book off the night table, thumbing through a few pages. Reading would have to wait. He didn’t figure on the kid falling asleep so quick.
This needed settled before the boy did something really stupid, like running away.