The Lady Who Drew Me In Read online

  “What’s he done?”

  Jackson glanced to the women nearby. “I’d rather not say in mixed company,” he said. “But it’s imperative that I find him.”

  “You a lawman?”

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “Lawyer?” The man winced.

  Ignoring the insult, Jackson moved on to the next two men in the line. “Do you recognize the man in this sketch?”

  The men glanced at Curtis, who was the obvious leader of the trio. “No, sir.”

  “No, sir.”

  “How about you?” Jackson asked a young woman who’d inched closer during his canvas of the men.

  She craned her neck toward the sketch, and her eyes widened. “I—”

  “My sister ain’t seen him, either.” Curtis’s fierce glare at the girl tamped out the spark of recognition Jackson had seen on her face. “You go on home, Corine,” Curtis said. “Mama’s waiting on you.”

  Corine scurried off with no argument, not that Jackson blamed her. Curtis’s tone alone was menacing. That he could back it up with two hundred and fifty pounds of oak-hard muscle was almost enough to send Jackson slinking behind her.

  Instead he held up the sketch. “Anyone?” He moved in a circle, rotating the sketch for all to see. “Has anyone seen this man around the Rhodes’s house?”

  “The Rhodes’s house?” Curtis hopped from the railing. “What exactly are you saying, mister? That this man set the place on fire?”

  “I’m saying there’s a possibility—”

  “Mrs. Rhodes is an old woman who lived with a houseful of crazy cats. The fire was an accident.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who exactly are you working for?”

  Jackson sighed. His agenda would come out sooner or later. “I’m trying to find the man who murdered your neighbor, Ray Wendell.”

  Amid an eruption of protests, Curtis yelled, “They caught that bastard, and he’s good and dead!”

  Jackson shook his head. “I don’t believe Randal Morgan killed Mr. Wendell.”

  “And you’re trying to peddle this nonsense? Here?” Curtis’s eyes were wide; a vein bulged in his neck.

  “I’m trying to find the truth.”

  “Trying to frighten the women more like it. And maybe scare up a name for yourself in the process. That’s what men like you do. Men who defend murderers for a living.”

  “That’s not true!” Daisy took a step forward. “There’s evidence to support Mr. Gallway’s suspicion, and if he’s correct, there’s a killer at large here in your backyard.”

  “It’s all right, Daisy,” Jackson said. While he appreciated her loyalty, she was an outsider like he was—and they were sorely outnumbered. Drawing her back, he conveyed this with his eyes before addressing the crowd. “It’s been a long day for everyone. Sorry for the trouble, folks.” He turned to Daisy. “Go get Andy.”

  “Hold up,” Curtis demanded. “You’re the folks taking the boy in?”

  “We are,” Jackson said.

  “I ain’t no educated lawyer, but I know Edna Rhodes. And she ain’t about to send the boy off with you or anyone else in cahoots with the city trash who murdered his father.”

  “We’ll see what Mrs. Rhodes has to say about that,” Jackson said.

  Curtis took a step closer. “No, sir, we won’t.”

  “Are you refusing to allow us—”

  “You’re damn right I am.” Curtis took another imposing step toward Jackson, blocking his access to the house. His two pals flanked him like trees. “We know what’s best for the boy, and it’s best the two of you be on your way.”

  Daisy shook her head furiously. “I’m not leaving without Andy.”

  “We take care of our own,” Curtis said. “The boy stays with me.”

  Jackson’s blood pounded in his ears. “Now, wait just a—”

  “Git!” Curtis shoved up his sleeves, posed in a stance that warned he meant business.

  Jackson stared down the challenge, clenching his fists. While he’d earned his fair share of bruises in the past, he knew this man would crush him to pulp. The image of Daisy’s distraught face gazing down at his broken body flashed in his mind, spurring him to reason. He pointed his finger. “You take good care of that boy,” he said. “I’ll be back to make sure that you do.” He inhaled a deep breath. “In the meantime, I suggest you take a few minutes, or an hour, or however long it takes for that pea brain of yours to consider what a horse’s ass you’ve been here today.” He tossed a glance at the women huddled nearby. “I apologize, ladies, for this unpleasantness.”

  “But, Jax—”

  “Go say good-bye to the boy,” he said as he urged Daisy toward the door. “Tell him we’ll be back to check on him soon.”

  With a sigh, she did as instructed. Feeling like a trapped rabbit amid a pack of wolves, he waited, relieved by Daisy’s sense to withhold the protest that might cause them to pounce.

  When she returned, he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her away.

  “That went well,” he mumbled as they boarded the wagon. “How was the boy?”

  “He likes Curtis’s dog,” she said. “He says he’ll be fine.”

  Jackson patted her arm. “We’ll return to check on him in a day or two. Let things settle down.”

  They drove down the mountain in silence. The scene with Curtis had Jackson’s blood boiling, but he’d done the right thing by walking away. A bruised ego was preferable to a bruised body, but he couldn’t help dwelling on the fact the man had publically shamed him that way.

  “Is that Corine?” Daisy pointed to the roadside up ahead. “Curtis’s sister?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And I’d like to speak with her.” He pulled back on the reins.

  Daisy called down to Corine as the wagon rolled to a stop. “My name is Daisy Gallway, and this is my husband. May we offer you a ride home?”

  Corine glanced to the long road up ahead. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

  Jackson’s rush of optimism was premature, but he sensed Corine knew something about the man in the sketch.

  Daisy placed a hand on Jackson’s forearm. “Don’t drive until I tell you to,” she murmured.

  With a nod, Jackson hopped down to assist Corine. A moment later the woman was sitting beside Daisy in the wagon. Jackson returned to his seat. Even as he pondered Daisy’s motives, his brain couldn’t deflect from the pleasing smell of her hair.

  “Your brother has offered to take in little Andy,” Daisy said.

  “He has?” Corine furrowed her brow. “Mama will sure be surprised,” she muttered.

  “You and your family will take good care of him, won’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we will. I know Curtis seems a gruff sort, but he’s a good man. He’ll do anything to protect his neighbors.”

  “We’re counting on that,” Jackson said. “Keep a close eye on the boy. Until the man I’m searching for is apprehended, you’re all in danger.”

  Corine wrung her hands on her lap. “That fella you’re looking for. I’ve seen him. A while back.”

  Jackson leaned forward to face her. “Where?”

  “You can’t tell my brother. He don’t want me involved.”

  “Where?”

  “I can’t recall.” She shook her head. “For the life of me, I can’t recall. But I know I’ve seen him before.”

  “Think.” Jackson didn’t mean to sound harsh, but he needed her to remember. He handed her the sketch of the man. “Look at it again.”

  Corine stared down at it, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Daisy reached for her sketch pad at her feet. “Corine, would you indulge me for a moment?” she asked.

  Jackson sat at attention, and let Daisy take over.

  “When I’m trying to remember something, it helps to close my eyes. Can you do that for me now?”

  Corine eyed Daisy warily. “I suppose.”

  Daisy smiled. Positioning
the pad on her lap, she prepared for business. “Now just relax,” she said. “Close your eyes and try to concentrate on the man you saw. Try to picture the surroundings, any details you can.”

  Corine followed Daisy’s instructions. Dipping her head forward, she closed her eyes.

  Jackson shifted in his seat, bracing himself to witness Daisy’s talent up close.

  “Can you see him?” Daisy asked softly.

  Corine nodded.

  Daisy closed her eyes too.

  A moment later, her hand twitched on the pad. Jackson sat riveted, watching as her trembling fingers gripped the pencil. Her head lulled to the side. Her vacant eyes opened a crack, but she seemed fast asleep as she moved. The pencil glided across the paper, short strokes and long. Manic, incoherent scribblings poured onto the page, faster and faster. Among the jumbled drawings, an image appeared, taking shape, stroke by stroke before his eyes.

  Daisy flinched, blinking hard.

  Jackson’s pulse raced as she awoke from the trance. He touched her trembling shoulder, and she patted his hand, assuring him she was fine. As awed as he was by her curious ability, it still unnerved him to the bone to see her in that ghostly state.

  “He was on horseback,” Corine said. “I remember.” She looked down at the sketch on Daisy’s lap. Her eyes flashed wide. “On that horse,” she uttered, clearly amazed. She leaned away from Daisy. “How did you do that?”

  Daisy shrugged. “I can’t explain it,” she said simply. “It’s just something I can do.”

  Corine furrowed her brow in disbelief or confusion or both. “You can’t let Curtis know about this,” she said. “He wouldn’t like it.”

  Jackson was inclined to agree.

  Corine stared down at the sketch of the black horse with distinct white stockings. “I remember those white hooves,” she said. “The man you’re looking for was on that horse. I saw him when I was coming out of the post office ’bout two months ago.”

  Jackson stilled. “Do you remember which direction he was going?” he asked.

  “Up the mountain.”

  “Thank you, Corine,” Jackson said. “You’ve been very helpful.” The wink he flashed earned him a smile before he snapped the reins and they headed down the mountain.

  Jackson’s heart raced in a surge of excitement. This mystery man was real, and Jackson would find him. With Daisy working her magic in his corner, he couldn’t lose. In this moment, he felt capable of anything, and his gratitude for Daisy’s help overwhelmed him. It was all he could do not to stop the wagon and kiss her, right there in front of Corine.

  “Nice job,” he said with a smile.

  She smiled back, and he was struck, once again, by the impulse to kiss her.

  When they were finally alone, he said, “It’s all starting to fit now. Randal Morgan insisted that someone stashed the items stolen from the Wendell place in his cart.” Jackson held up the sketch. “This man.”

  Daisy’s face filled with fear. “I’m so worried for Andy.”

  Jackson couldn’t help feeling guilty. The incident with Curtis had cost her the boy. Had Andy been with them now, she’d be resting easier. “We’ll see him soon.”

  “Not if Curtis has his way.”

  “He won’t,” Jackson said. “Next time I’ll be prepared.”

  She arched her brow. “Engaging in fisticuffs with him?” she asked. “I imagine he packs quite a punch.”

  Jackson gave a firm nod. “I imagine he does. But I’ll be packing a gun.”

  Chapter 13

  Over the next week, Daisy noticed an obvious change in Jackson’s mood. Despite the sunny weather, today’s breakfast on the bluestone patio was a dismal affair. The furrow of his brow deepened by the moment, and any attempt at conversation was locked tightly behind his nonexistent smile.

  A pang of guilt ached through her, and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for his sullen transformation. His carefree days as a city bachelor appeared miles behind him. Now he trudged between Misty Lake and Troy, lugging the burden that had landed so heavily on his slumping shoulders. Responsibility. And more of it than he’d likely ever carried before. He stared out at the lake, his long legs stretched from where he sat at the wrought iron table, looking lost in thought and so displaced.

  Sunlight reflected off the water, forcing glimmers of light into his forlorn eyes. Like a waning candle, the flame inside him was dimming, suffocating in his current circumstances and the doldrums of his surroundings. She missed his easy smile, his light-hearted humor.

  To pile on the agony, he’d been shown up in public by Curtis and practically chased down the mountain by an irate mob. Daisy admired Jackson’s diplomacy in handling the ugly confrontation, but men were men, and their egos were more fragile than eggs.

  Daisy felt melancholy too. Although Jackson and she were in agreement that Curtis would keep Andy safe, she couldn’t shake her disappointment at losing the chance to care for the boy. For a moment, in the sheer bliss of her excitement about taking Andy home, she’d felt a sense of completion, a hope fulfilled by the promise of a child beneath her roof. Someone to love. Someone to love her in return.

  She had until the end of the summer to do what she could to secure that hope. If Jackson lasted the summer in Misty Lake. At this moment she wasn’t so sure he’d last another hour. But tonight… At night he came back to life.

  While they made love, nothing else seemed to matter. In the haven of their bed, they followed their bodies into the pleasure, far away from the ills of the world. They were using each other, plain and simple. But she cared for him too. Very much.

  Since living under one roof, she’d come to enjoy the little things about him, the way his hair looked in the morning, all wild and mussed. The way he walked across a room with those purposeful strides, so full of confidence. But most of all, she enjoyed the way he listened when she spoke. The interest he took in what she had to say was more alluring than his sapphire eyes.

  These endearing feelings were acceptable, she supposed. They were husband and wife, and whether in name only or not, married couples should, at the very least, like each other. Since she planned on becoming the mother of Jackson’s child, this reasoning seemed especially just. A civil union would ensure a civil separation, which would be for the best.

  A man like Jackson couldn’t bear the lifelong responsibility of fatherhood. Some men couldn’t. Her own father, whoever he was, had abandoned the duty.

  She swallowed back her guilt for leaving Andy, and tried to push her gloomy thoughts from her mind. Flipping casually through the pages of the Misty Lake Sun, she realized she could use a boost to her mood as well. And then she saw it. With a glance at Jackson, she folded the papers quickly, certain she’d found the perfect diversion for them both.

  “Are you free this afternoon?” she asked, tossing the papers aside.

  “I have some notes to go over this morning, but after that my day is clear. Why?”

  “Are you up for some recreation?”

  His eyes widened in a mock expression of horror. “Me? Surely you jest.” He flashed his first genuine smile in days, and she basked in the familiar warmth it induced.

  “Wonderful. Heaven knows I could use a bit of fun.”

  “Is that so?” Arching a brow, he eyed her, looking so handsome. “I can’t decide whether to be inspired or offended.”

  Daisy considered this during the split-second before he broke out laughing. The welcome sound wrapped around her like a reassuring embrace. She smiled, relieved that his old self was resurging.

  He turned toward the sound of squawking geese in the distance. Mama and goslings swam toward the shore. Reaching for the uneaten toasted bread on his plate, Jackson said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have company.”

  “Friends of yours now?” she asked as he stood.

  “We came to a truce over a handful of bread.”

  The geese proceeded up the lawn for their breakfast.

&nb
sp; “Come help feed our guests,” Jackson said as the geese scrambled around his feet.

  Daisy grabbed some more bread and joined him in his task. They laughed at the antics of the tiny family that raced and pecked for the bread. Jackson tossed mama goose a piece, and she snatched it mid-air.

  “They’ve grown since I last saw them,” Daisy said.

  Jackson pointed. “Especially that one,” he said. “He’s a bit of a bully.”

  Daisy smiled. “So how often do these visits occur?”

  He shrugged. “Every day. I come out here to clear my mind. The mornings are quiet.” He smiled. “Until this crew arrives.”

  Jackson swiped the remaining crumbs from his hands, cueing the geese his supply had run dry. Mama goose headed toward the lake, the goslings chirping behind her as they waddled away.

  Surprised by the sudden lift to her mood, she said, “Now that your guests have been fed, I’ll have Kotterman ready the carriage. We shall depart at noon.”

  “Depart for…?” His dubious expression bordered on dread.

  No doubt he imagined a tedious Saturday spent attending the weekly church social or some such event he’d safely avoided until now. On a mischievous whim, she withheld any assurance to the contrary. She shook her head, suppressing a smile. “While I’ll not divulge our exact destination, I guarantee a fun-filled afternoon.”

  “Your idea of fun may differ from mine.” He smiled in that wicked way she’d come to know so well, and the suggestive wit in his eyes filled her with longing.

  “Don’t be so sure,” she said with a wicked grin of her own. She’d abandoned all reticence in speaking her mind, but why bother being shy? The pretense of modesty was ridiculous in the wake of their passionate nights. Hours spent naked, repressing nothing. This man brought out everything, the deepest aspirations of the stagnant woman who’d been bottled inside her body for years. And now her truest self poured freely. In bed and out.

  Unlike Lawry, to whom she’d always tried to be the proper wife, she now lived to please herself. The consequences of each move she made no longer mattered. She had nothing to prove to Jackson, and she expected nothing more from him save the intoxicating delight of his company. And if he left her with a child, all the better.