Cowgirl Under The Mistletoe. Louise M. Gouge
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She leaned against the display case, and her usually friendly face drooped into a weary expression.
Grace patted the woman’s forearm. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Winsted. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Now, who were your last few customers just before you closed up yesterday?” She glanced at Homer to include him in the question.
They both offered names, and Grace wrote them on her pad, flipping to a second page to list them all.
“The last person out the door was Adam Starling,” Homer said. “He bought some flour for his mother and asked to put it on their tab.” He cleared his throat. “Not that this means anything...”
“Go on.” Grace kept her eyes on her notes. She’d had some concerns about sixteen-year-old Adam but would keep that to herself for now.
“Well...” Homer shuffled his feet. “The last thing Adam looked at was the pearl-handled Colt .45 that’s missing now. Said he sure would like to have one like it someday. I, uh, I took it out of the case and let him hold it. I don’t like to make judgments about folks, but if a man could look hungry at a gun, then I’d say that was how Adam looked at that revolver.”
A sick feeling rose up inside of Grace. She snapped her notepad closed and stuck it back into her pocket. “All right. I’ll report this to the sheriff. If either of you think of anything else, let one of us know.”
She strode toward the front door only vaguely aware that the Rev was on her heels. Outside on the boardwalk, he touched her arm to stop her. She did stop, but only because Dub and his friends had wandered down the street.
“Grace, I can see what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong about Adam.”
She shifted her gun belt and gave him her best deputy glare. “That so?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t in the least bit intimidated by her tough posture, which pleased her in the oddest way. “Why would such a hardworking boy risk everything—his family, his reputation, his jobs—for a gun? Or for any of those other missing items?”
“I’ll admit he’s always seemed like a straight-up fella.” She wouldn’t speak about the way Adam avoided her. Lots of men in town avoided her because they didn’t know how to behave around a female peacekeeper. She preferred that to Dub Gleason and his pals. “But you gotta admit a poor family like the Starlings don’t have much in the way of necessities. Maybe he needed the rifle to kill jackrabbits for their supper.”
The Starling family had been in town for about a year and a half. Adam’s father had yet to recover from injuries sustained when outlaws beat him and stole the payroll he was delivering for the railroad. Adam was still in high school, and he worked hard at three jobs to support the family. Mrs. Starling took in sewing and laundry, but the family still needed help from the church from time to time. Grace didn’t mind their receiving charity. Christians were supposed to take care of needy folks. But the way Adam had been avoiding her recently, refusing to look her in the eye at church or ducking around corners if he saw her during the week, caused her some concern even before the robberies. What could he be hiding?
“I’m sure the Starlings already have a gun of some sort for small game hunting.”
Grace eyed the Rev. “I suppose. But from what Homer said, seems like Adam wants something finer than whatever they have.”
“That doesn’t mean he’d steal to get it.” The Rev exhaled a sigh that almost sounded cross, not his usual calm reaction to troubles. “Adam comes from a decent Christian family. His father held a position of trust for the railroad, and Adam has always been a fine young man. Everyone in town knows how hard he works.”
“Maybe he’s tired of working so hard.” Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “I know he had to spend a lot of his savings to get that special medicine for his little sister last winter.”
“Now, Grace—”
“Now, Rev.” She held up a hand to silence him. “You don’t want to suspect him because you always see the best in everyone.”
“Is that a fault?” An uncharacteristic hint of defensiveness colored his tone.
My, he was getting peevish. Grace ignored the question. “You also preach that nobody’s righteous, that we’ve all sinned and come short of the glory of God. The Bible tells us how God’s judgment came on evildoers in a mighty way. Think about Jericho or Sodom and Gomorrah. Or the Babylonian captivity.”
His jaw dropped slightly, and he stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “We certainly can’t discount those Old Testament stories, but through Jesus Christ, God extends mercy.” He took on his concerned preacher look, tilting his head slightly and stared into her eyes. “You know this, Grace. You’ve accepted Jesus as your Savior.”
“I have.” His gaze bored into her, and she stared off in time to see the sheriff enter his office down the block. “But even if a man’s trusted the Lord, he can still go wrong if he’s tempted bad enough. Adam may just be taking a wrong path. If he is, it’s my job to make sure he doesn’t get away with it.”
“Make sure he doesn’t get away with it, or restore him to the right path?”
“Same thing.” She wouldn’t enter a war of words with him because she’d be sure to lose.
The Rev blew out another long breath. “Admiring a fine gun doesn’t make him guilty of theft.” He again tilted his head in an appealing way. “Neither does being the last customer of the day.”
Grace started to mention how Adam had been avoiding her of late but changed her mind. The Rev would only find a way to turn her suspicions around. “Well, I just saw the sheriff go into the office, so I need to go over and report the robberies to him.” She stepped down from the boardwalk onto the dusty street.
The Rev chuckled and called after her. “Does that mean you won’t be having dinner with me?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Aren’t you sick of my company by now?” It was a dumb thing to say. Even as rough-mannered as she was, she knew better than to say such a thing to a friend.
“Not at all, Grace.” Was that a trace of sadness in his eyes? “But I have a feeling you’re tired of my preaching. Thanks for the shooting lesson.” He tipped his hat and gave her a little bow. He was one of the few men in town who offered her such courtesies. “Good day, my friend.”
Her heart aching over their disagreement, Grace watched him walk away. This was best, of course. In a couple of months, the Rev’s guests would arrive, and that Miss Sutton wouldn’t want a plain, too-tall, gawky female deputy hanging around her future husband.
One thing was sure. Grace would get to know the lady to be sure she was good enough for the Rev. If she turned out to be a snob, Grace would... Well, she’d figure something out to discourage him from marrying the wrong woman both for the Rev’s sake and the sakes of all the good folks in the congregation. She chuckled to herself. If the lady truly was the uppity sort, Grace and her sisters, Georgia and Maisie, would teach her a thing or two about living in the West.
* * *
Feeling the loss of his friend’s company after a mostly pleasant morning, Micah stopped into Williams’s Café and purchased some sandwiches to eat at home. Odd how he’d only recently begun to understand what it meant to feel true loneliness. All the more reason to get married. Joel and his sister couldn’t get here soon enough to suit him so he could find out whether the Lord had chosen Miss Sutton to be his wife.
Seated at his kitchen table, he laughed to himself over the way Grace had irritated him earlier as they discussed Adam Starling. Micah rarely got irritated, so he’d been surprised by his own reaction to Grace’s unbending attitude about punishing the thief. This had been their first real disagreement, and he’d found himself bothered by her Old Testament legalism, which was clearly at odds with her name. He supposed her occupation affected her view of wrongdoers. Or perhaps she’d chosen her occupation because of