Allie's Moon (6 page)

Gazing out at this view, a man could almost
forget the heartache and bad luck dogging his past.

“
Mr. Hicks!”

Her stern tone cut through his moment of
peace, and carried over the stiff breeze rustling the grass and
trees. He peered beyond the edge of the roof and saw Althea Ford
standing in the yard, her hands on her hips and her face turned up
to his. The breeze ruffled the loose tendrils of hair around her
face, each curl catching the sunlight and flashing red-gold.

For just an instant, Jeff’s masculine nature
gained the upper hand, and his gaze swept the length of her
pleasing figure. And very pleasing it was. So pleasing, in fact,
that Jeff momentarily forgot where he was standing and damned near
lost his precarious foothold on the steeply sloped roof. He
scrambled for purchase, imagining himself sliding backward and
tumbling to the ground. He clenched his jaw to hold back a
curse.

He had taken his shirt off and tied it around
his waist. Her large eyes were fixed on his chest, her startled
expression saying, more clearly than words, that she’d never seen a
man’s bare torso. Not wishing to offend her maidenly
sensibilities—Christ, how did he land himself in these messes?—he
fumbled with the knot and hastily shoved his arms into the sleeves,
nearly losing his balance again as he shifted his weight.

“
Mr. Hicks, you have left the barn door
open!”

With the way she was gaping at him, Jeff
thought for a horrible moment that his chest wasn’t the only body
part he was exposing, but a fast downward glance at his fly assured
him it was buttoned. He looked across weed-infested yard at the
barn, vaguely recollecting as he did that she’d asked him to keep
it closed.

“
Um—yes, ma’am.”

Even from here he could see the nettled
expression on her pretty face. “I believe I asked you to keep that
door closed.”

“
It needs to be fixed—it hangs
up.”

“
It—it—what h-hangs?”

“
It hangs up—it’s stuck.”

“
Oh. You mean it won’t close at all?”
He heard a baffling edge of panic in her voice.

“
It does but it’s hard to work, so I
left it open because I’ve been going in and out for tools. Should I
fix it?”

She pressed a hand to her slender waist,
something about the gesture making her seem vulnerable. “No! It
doesn’t need fixing.”

“
I don’t mean to argue, ma’am, but it
does.”

“
But it doesn’t matter because I don’t
use the barn and I want the door shut. It’s not much to ask, Mr.
Hicks.”

It wasn’t his place, or even in his nature to
pursue it, but he did anyway. Maybe because the whole thing seemed
so damned harebrained. “There’s nothing in there that can get out.
What difference does it make?”

She glanced around, as if she were groping
for an answer. “It looks, well, it looks untidy.”

Jeff let his gaze drift over the rest of the
property, taking note of the jungle-like yard and sagging fences.
“Untidy.”

Obviously realizing how ridiculous that
sounded, she pressed on. “Mr. Hicks, I don’t have to explain myself
to you. Please, just come down here and do as I asked.”

He sighed, wondering if she had any idea how
slick a roof was when a man wasn’t wearing spiked boots. “Yes,
ma’am.”

As Jeff worked his way across the steep roof
to the ladder, he glanced at the sky again, this time to judge the
hour. He figured he had another five to go here.

He hoped to God they’d pass quickly.

CHAPTER FOUR

The sun cast long shadows the next time
Althea emerged from the house to talk to Jeff. Wading through the
tall grass, she carried a tray that held a bowl of beef soup, a big
chunk of hot, fresh bread, and coffee.

Despite the matter about the barn door, he’d
displayed much more industry than she’d expected. The hammering and
patching had continued all afternoon, and he deserved a hot meal.
She’d also brought with her an old towel, and a piece of soap was
tucked in her apron pocket. The meal wasn’t fancy but he’d wash
before he ate it, or she’d know the reason why. Setting the tray on
a stump, she scanned the roof for him. Oh—there he was, near the
chimney.

Althea’s breath caught in her throat.

The low red-gold sun silhouetted Jeff’s
length, outlining his bare upper torso as he stood watching the
western horizon. He studied it the way a ship’s captain might, as
if he were searching for something. The evening breeze blew back
his unkempt hair, revealing his profile. With the haggard lines on
his face burnished by the sun, he looked startlingly handsome
standing up there, in command, as though he were a natural leader
bearing a great responsibility. Overhead, a pair of meadowlarks
winged their way across the darkening blue sky, completing the
tableau.

Althea realized she was staring at him again,
and this time with more than general curiosity. Shame, she scolded
herself. She had no business noticing anything about Jefferson
Hicks, no business wondering what he was thinking as he stared at
the horizon, or what had turned him into the man he was now.

“
Mr. Hicks, is the roof finished?” she
called up.

Jeff turned at the sound of her voice and put
his shirt back on. “I’d say there’s another half a day’s work to be
done on it, ma’am.”

Oh, dear. She didn’t know if Will Mason would
allow him to return to finish the job. She’d certainly abandoned
all hope of seeing Cooper Matthews out here. “Well, come down, now,
and eat your dinner while it’s hot. Cold soup loses its
flavor.”

Jeff picked up the hammer and tucked the
handle back into the waistband of his jeans. Stepping carefully
onto the ladder, he worked his way down and crossed the yard.
Watching him, Althea couldn’t mistake the expression of hunger that
crossed his thin face when he saw the tray.

He reached for the bowl with two dirty hands.
“It sure smells good.” He glanced up, quickly tacking on “Ma’am,”
as if it were an afterthought.

Blocking his reach, Althea thrust the soap
and towel into his grasp. A thin medicinal odor blended with that
of old sweat, as if alcohol were coming through his pores. “You’ll
pardon me for saying so, Mr. Hicks, but you do not.”

After gazing for a moment at the rectangular
bar and folded length of linen he found himself holding, he cast a
blank look at her.

Expounding the point, she continued, “I’m
sure you’d like the opportunity wash up. There’s a water trough
next to the woodshed.”

Crimson highlighted his sharply cut
cheekbones. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. With his eyes downcast, he
disappeared around the corner of the house.

Realizing that she had embarrassed him,
Althea caught her lower lip in her teeth. But after this fleeting
sense of remorse, she drew herself up and set her chin. The man
reeked. If he needed prodding to wash every day, then she would
provide the motivation as long as he remained here in her employ.
It was either that or wear a clothespin on her nose every time she
got near him.

She heard vigorous splashing and when he
returned, his hair, hands, and face, were clean, even if the rest
of him wasn’t. His lashes still held droplets of water and formed
spiky frames around his striking green eyes. As though still
embarrassed, he dropped his gaze from hers again.

“
Well—you—that’s better,” she said,
feeling an odd little flutter in her stomach. “You can bring that
stool over here from the porch to sit on.”

As he went after the stool, Althea heard
horses coming down the road to the house. The clatter of their
hooves broke the stillness of the countryside. Turning, she saw
Will Mason returning with the wagon.

Will brought the conveyance to a stop in
front of the porch, and climbed down. “Miss Althea,” he
acknowledged, touching his hat brim. “How did it go today?”

“
Mr. Hicks tells me there’s a little
work left to be done on the roof, but I believe he’s got most of it
patched.”

Will scanned the yard with a slow perusal
that made her fidget. She already knew the property looked
horrible. “Well, I’ll tell you what, ma’am. I don’t suppose it’s
any secret that Jeff has a little problem with the bottle.” Will’s
voice dropped to a confidential tone. “As matters stand, he’s not
doing himself or anyone else any good. I think it’s time to change
that.”

Althea nodded, not sure where the sheriff was
taking the conversation.

He fished a match out of his shirt pocket and
put it in the corner of his mouth. “If you’ll have him,” he
continued, “he can keep working here until he dries out. Or better
still, until harvest time. I figure that’s about four months from
now.”

“
Do you mean that he would stay
here?”

“
Believe me, Miss Althea, if you can
make up a bed for him in the barn, that will be an improvement over
where he sometimes sleeps.”

It seemed the sheriff had completely
overlooked a very worrisome fact. She glanced back at Jeff Hicks,
long-legged and wide-shouldered. He might be too thin, but he was
still a big man. If he chose to overpower a woman, to take
liberties, like a—a kiss, or God forbid, something more, there
would be nothing she could do. The very notion gave Althea a case
of the jitters.

With her hand flat against her chest, Althea
said in a confidential tone, “Sheriff, I think you’ve forgotten
that my sister and I are alone here. I realize that Mr. Hicks once
held a position of respect in Decker Prairie, but those days are
obviously long past—”

Will shifted the match to the other corner of
his mouth. “Now ma’am, I would never suggest an arrangement like
this if I thought that you or your sister would be, um, compromised
in any way. That’s not something you have to fear. I’ve known Jeff
for a long time, and he sure can be a handful. But he wouldn’t harm
anyone, especially a lady.”

“
I remember that he killed a boy—Wesley
Cooper, I believe.”

Will nodded. “He did, in the line of duty.
Maybe you should ask Jeff about it.” He paused and then added, “Of
course, it’s your decision.”

The sincerity in the Will’s eyes made her
feel guilty for refusing. “Well, if you think—” she wavered.

Jeff returned with the stool and Althea felt
him edging closer to her left, apparently trying to hear the
conversation.

“
My only other choice is to take him
back to jail. He’s got a four-month term to serve, be it here or
behind bars. And I mean to see that he does at least part of his
time.”

“
But Sheriff, that seems a bit
harsh—”

“
What?” Jeff demanded, momentarily
jolted from his apathy.

Still holding the stool, Jeff moved closer.
He wasn’t about to stand there and let them discuss their
arrangements for him as if he were a mule or a dog and couldn’t
understand English.

“
Now, just a goddamned minute, Mason.
You can’t seriously intend to hold me for four damned months! Not
just for stealing an egg!” He saw the startled look on prissy Miss
Althea’s face. She probably wasn’t accustomed to hearing a
gentleman swear. Well, too bad, because he was no damned
gentleman.

He’d been sweating up there on that roof all
afternoon. The only thing that had made it bearable was looking
forward to getting paid so he could head off to the Liberal Saloon
and get his hands around his whiskey bottle and drown himself in
forgetfulness. Now Will was talking about leaving him out here for
the whole summer? Not if Jeff had anything to say about it.

Will poked Jeff in the ribs, then seized his
arm and drew him away. “Excuse us, won’t you, ma’am?” He nudged
Jeff toward the back of the wagon.

Jeff jerked his arm from Will’s grasp. “What
kind of scheme are you cooking up, Will?”

“
I didn’t want to embarrass you in
front of the lady, Hicks, although you managed to do well enough on
your own. True, I can’t hold you for four months, and I wasn’t
going to try. But I can keep you for a month. And I’ll tell you
this—” He took the match out of his mouth and pointed it at Jeff,
punctuating each low-spoken word with it. “Every time I see you on
the street in town, I’ll be keeping an eye you. I won’t let you
sleep it off in my barn anymore. And Caroline put her foot down a
long time ago about bringing you into the house. If you pass out in
someone’s hay rick, or in a doorway in town, I’ll arrest you for
vagrancy.” Will’s expression was dead serious, and Jeff knew the
threat was, too.

“
Getting drunk isn’t a crime in Decker
Prairie,” Jeff mumbled.

“
In your case, I’ll make it my business
to turn it into one.”

Jeff snorted. “You can’t rewrite the law to
suit yourself, Will!”

“
Watch me.”

Jeff couldn’t quite believe this was
happening. “You’d actually jail a man for an entire month for
taking one lousy egg?” Where’s the justice in that? Or don’t you
believe in justice?”

Will’s mouth turned down at the corners.
“I’ll tell you what I believe in—that’s the responsibility I have
to folks in this town who need a helping hand. You, my friend, are
one of them.”

“
Me?” Jeff asked incredulously. “I
don’t want or need a helping hand from you or anyone
else.”

“
Have you had a good look at yourself
lately? Your hands shake like an old man’s and your eyes remind me
of my red flannel long johns. Christ, you look ten years older than
your age. I’m doing you a favor here, if you’d just realize
it.”

Jeff couldn’t believe his ears. He was also
very aware of Althea Ford standing there in her yard while Will
gave him this dressing down. Oh, it must have made Will Mason feel
high and mighty to stand there in his clean, starched shirt and
stoop to save unworthy, unwashed Jefferson Hicks. Mr. High and
Mighty, who had a wife to go home to every night, a wife who waited
with a hot meal, and offered the comfort of her arms and the solace
of her bed. “Favor? You’d be doing me a big favor if you’d let me
go my way. It’s getting harder and harder for me to remember that
we were ever friends.”