Page 24 of Taming Lady Temperance

He should have had a full night’s rest after releasing Edna Hanover into her son’s care yesterday morning, but a storm blew in last night and brought a tree down on Clyde Weatherby’s house. Thank God no one had been hurt. He and Clyde and a couple of Clyde’s neighbors worked through the night to clear away the debris and rig up a few tarps to keep the worst of the rain and wind out of the house. The covered back porch had taken the brunt of the collision, which was a mercy. The roof and walls sustained minimal damage, leaving the structure sound enough for the Weatherbys to continue living there. A pair of windows had been busted out, and the tree had left a sizable dent in the roof above the kitchen, but the repairs shouldn’t be too costly.

Shifting away from the pew end, hoping it would be harder to drift off without the secondary support, James returned his attention to the preacher. He’d absorbed about two minutes of Cowan’s discourse on the witless nature of sheep and the humbling ramifications of that observation when combined with Christ’s declaration of being the Good Shepherd, when little Mary Green climbed down from the pew and made a dash for freedom. Not one to allow a prisoner to escape so easily, James slid his leg out to bar her path. She attempted a brute force maneuver first, pounding his leg with her fists. When that didn’t work, she changed tactics and tried to duck beneath the barrier, but James anticipated the strategy and plugged the hole with his opposite boot. This earned him a cherubic glare that made him grin.

The grin proved to be a miscalculation on his part. The tiny outlaw hurled her rag doll straight at his head. James bit back a chuckle as he dodged the projectile. Only to discover that it hadn’t been thrown in a fit of pique as he’d assumed. It had been a clever ploy to distract him from Mary’s next breakout attempt. The little hooligan was tunneling for freedom on her hands and knees beneath the pew. Thankfully, she’d made a critical error and tunneled forward instead of back, allowing James to make a quick dive, snatch her about the waist, and reel her in. She flailed and kicked as all foiled escapees do, but she was no match for the cunning lawman who’d taken her into custody. Not until her face scrunched and her mouth began to open. Scream imminent, James did the only thing his sleep-deprived brain could think to do to stave off disaster for them both—he blew in her face.

Mary blinked, shook her head, and stared at him as if no longer sure where she was. James stood her on her feet and blew in her face again as he released his hold on her waist. This time she giggled, the sound finally drawing her mother’s attention away from Mary’s year-old brother, who was climbing all over Mrs. Green’s lap.

“Shh, Mary,” her mother whispered before darting an apologetic glance toward James. “Leave the deputy alone.”

James smiled and whispered back, “She’s no bother.”

In truth, she’d probably done him a favor. Kept him awake and on his toes. Kind of reminded him of another stubborn female intent on going her own way.

His gaze strayed to the front of the church to a slightly unruly dark-haired bun nestled against a slender neck. A simple straw bonnet decorated with a green bow perched somewhat precariously atop the barely contained curls as if ready to abandon ship at a moment’s notice. Rather like the woman herself who seemed to be having difficulty sitting still. Unlike the perfectly composed young woman at her side. Of course, Jane Cowan had much more experience sitting in the front row and ignoring the scrutiny of the churchgoers than Noreen did. Until this week, Noreen had sat in her mother and stepfather’s pew, comfortably anonymous in the middle of the congregation.

As James watched, a pair of bonneted heads two rows behind Noreen bent together. A heartbeat later, Noreen shifted in her seat. James frowned. Were those ladies talking about her? Had Noreen overheard something unkind? Something rather fierce sprang to attention in his gut, but before he could analyze it too closely, another female demanded his attention.

Mary’s foot kicked his boot as the little girl moved to stand in front of him. She waited for him to look down at her, then shoved her arms up and out in clear demand. James glanced at Mrs. Green, but the young mother was too busy with the baby to pay her daughter much mind. Not wanting to endanger his delicate truce with the runaway toddler, James complied and scooped Mary up and sat her on his knee. Unhappy with that position, however, she climbed him like a ladder until she had both feet poking his belly while she peered over his shoulder, likely eyeing the church door and planning her next escape attempt.

He hadn’t had much experience holding youngsters. Especially little girls. The experience had an odd effect on his brain. Implanting family man type desires that had no business sneaking up on a fella out of the blue. Especially when the imaginary children they generated bore a striking resemblance to a certain curly-haired firebrand sitting in the front row.

Nope. Not gonna go there. Noreen O’Sullivan was trouble with a capital T, and any attraction he felt for the woman needed to be squelched. Just because she cooked like a dream, held fast to her beliefs despite widespread opposition, and could tease him out of his worries when the occasion called for it didn’t mean she was a good match for him. All right, so those attributes were elements he hoped to find in a wife someday—some very far away day—but not when they were tied to the same woman who picked a fight with over half the voting populace of Shackelford County.

Thankfully, the call to stand and sing the invitation song interrupted his ill-timed musings and drew his attention back to where it belonged—on worship. During the closing prayer, he added a silent apology for his distraction as well as a petition for an extra dose of wisdom as he navigated the unfamiliar currents he found himself floating in. Instinct warned that there’d be plenty of rapids before he reached the still waters promised in the psalm.

“Down!” Mary pushed against his chest the moment the final amen was spoken, as if the word were a starting gun to a race.

“Go ahead,” Mrs. Green said. “Paul will look after her.” She nodded toward her eldest son, who’d been sitting between her and her husband.

The boy was probably only six or seven, but he seemed just as eager to run for the door as his little sister. Placing one knee on the bench, James lowered Mary over the back of the pew, giving her a head start since her brother still had to get around his father. She squealed with joy and pumped her little legs, narrowly beating Paul to the door. She still had to wait for him to open it for her, but the triumphant gleam in her eyes made it clear that she savored the rare victory.

James grinned, glad he could play some small part in her success. Too bad grown-up victories were so much more complicated.

He wandered through the sanctuary, greeting friends and neighbors and asking after their kin. A good lawman needed to stay well-informed regarding the people in his town if he wanted to serve them to the best of his ability, yet that wasn’t his main motivation for making the rounds. He genuinely liked these folks and cared about what was going on in their lives. Especially after the storm they’d had last night. He’d likely need to ride out to some of the area farms and ranches over the next few days to see how those living outside of town fared.

After getting an update on Mr. Holman’s colicky horse, James stepped between a pair of pews to allow a family to move down the aisle. Turning to make his way to the other side, he found himself face-to-face with Noreen O’Sullivan.

Her sudden appearance shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d been subconsciously tracking her movements as he made his way through the crowd and knew that he’d entered her general vicinity. Still, he’d not been mentally prepared to find her standing less than a foot away. Especially not wearing that contemplative expression.

“Are you feeling well? You look tired.”

The woman would never be accused of coating things with too much sugar.

“I am tired,” James admitted. “Only got a couple hours’ sleep after helping Clyde Weatherby get a fallen tree off his house.”

Her eyes widened. “Good heavens. Is everyone all right?”

James nodded as he rubbed a hand down his face, the thick stubble he encountered reminding him that he needed a shave. “No injuries, thank the Lord. A couple busted windows and some roof damage, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“I remember waking up to thunder last night and hearing the wind howl, but I didn’t realize the storm had been that bad. I’m so glad no one was hurt.”

“Me too. It could have been much worse.”

Noreen dropped her gaze, almost as if she were . . . nervous? That couldn’t be right. She had the stiffest backbone of any woman he’d ever met.

“Did Edna’s son pick her up as promised yesterday? I wanted to stop by and see her one last time, but the hotel was short-staffed, and I couldn’t get away.”

Surely, she wasn’t nervous about asking him about Mrs. Hanover. There must be something else.