Verdie’s expecting me home any minute.” He headed toward Papa’s study. “Be back in a minute.”
The clacking of her eggbeater sounded loud in the sudden quiet. She knew she should acknowledge Deputy Howard, but she was loathe to encourage even polite conversation.
He stood just inside the door, tracking her every move. He was small in stature and had the face of an angel, but in the six months since Uncle Melvin had deputized him, he’d enjoyed the power of his badge just a little too much for her liking.
Her uncle was blinded to the deputy’s shortcomings, though, for Billy John Howard was grandson to a close friend—who also happened to be the Texas secretary of state.
Without bothering to remove his hat, Deputy Howard sauntered to the stove and lifted the lid off her cast-iron pot. “Ummmm. I sure do love veal soup.” He dipped his finger in the broth, then licked it off. “And I’m not growing soft in the middle like your uncle.”
The thought of his grimy finger fouling her supper curdled her stomach. She strode to the stove and poured the egg into the pot, ignoring his attempt to finagle an invitation.
He leaned in toward her and inhaled deeply. “I do believe I smell dessert. I always like a little something sweet after my meals, don’t you?”
She placed her fingertips on his chest and pushed. “You’re crowding me. Do you mind?”
Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lips. “Not at all. I don’t mind in the least little bit.”
She snatched her hand out of his grasp. “Deputy Howard, you are making me uncomfortable.”
“Call me Billy John. Come on now, sweetheart, let me hear you say my name just once.”
“That is quite enough!”
“Uh-oh,” Uncle Melvin said, coming back through the archway. “What’ve you gone and done now, Billy John?”
Deputy Howard took a casual step back and removed his hat. “Oh, I’m just teasin’ her some. Telling her how a bowl of veal soup would cure me of my ailment, but she got mighty prickly about it.”
Uncle Melvin chuckled. “Now, Essie, don’t be so hard on him. It’s been a month of Sundays since that boy’s had himself a homecooked meal.”
“I thought that boy had dinner with you and Aunt Verdie last week?”
“Well, that’s not quite the same, is it, Deputy?”
Howard turned up his smile. “I do enjoy Mrs. Dunn’s cookin’, sir, but having a meal put together by Miss Spreckelmeyer surely does sound right nice.”
She poured a cup of milk into the soup. “Perhaps another time.”
Replacing his hat on his head, he nodded. “I’ll be countin’ on it, ma’am.”
Uncle Melvin opened the door. Deputy Howard passed through it, his footfalls heavy as he made his way off the porch.
When the door remained open, she looked back over her shoulder.
Uncle Melvin stood puzzled, his hand on the knob. “What is it about him that rubs you so raw?”
“How much time do you have?”
He chuckled. “Oh, I know you told him to leave you be, and if he doesn’t, you just tell me and I’ll talk to him. But, girl, he really has taken a shine to you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You’re nearly thirty-four, Essie. He’s a good man, and if you don’t take him, you might not ever—”
She slammed the lid on the pot. “I’m not interested.”
He held up his hands. “All right. All right.”
Sighing, she wiped a spot of milk off the stove with her apron. “How was Papa?”
“Struggling. Tonight’s supper won’t be easy.” He gave her a sad smile, retrieved his hat and quietly closed the door behind him.
Essie slumped against the stove. When it came to his deputy, Uncle Melvin wore blinders. She couldn’t understand how such a shrewd judge of character could be as deluded as Melvin was to Mr. Howard’s true nature. She’d begged Papa to intervene, but he always demurred.
“If you’ve heard rumors about the man, then you can be sure Melvin has, too. If he chooses not to credit them, then we ought to
The clacking of her eggbeater sounded loud in the sudden quiet. She knew she should acknowledge Deputy Howard, but she was loathe to encourage even polite conversation.
He stood just inside the door, tracking her every move. He was small in stature and had the face of an angel, but in the six months since Uncle Melvin had deputized him, he’d enjoyed the power of his badge just a little too much for her liking.
Her uncle was blinded to the deputy’s shortcomings, though, for Billy John Howard was grandson to a close friend—who also happened to be the Texas secretary of state.
Without bothering to remove his hat, Deputy Howard sauntered to the stove and lifted the lid off her cast-iron pot. “Ummmm. I sure do love veal soup.” He dipped his finger in the broth, then licked it off. “And I’m not growing soft in the middle like your uncle.”
The thought of his grimy finger fouling her supper curdled her stomach. She strode to the stove and poured the egg into the pot, ignoring his attempt to finagle an invitation.
He leaned in toward her and inhaled deeply. “I do believe I smell dessert. I always like a little something sweet after my meals, don’t you?”
She placed her fingertips on his chest and pushed. “You’re crowding me. Do you mind?”
Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lips. “Not at all. I don’t mind in the least little bit.”
She snatched her hand out of his grasp. “Deputy Howard, you are making me uncomfortable.”
“Call me Billy John. Come on now, sweetheart, let me hear you say my name just once.”
“That is quite enough!”
“Uh-oh,” Uncle Melvin said, coming back through the archway. “What’ve you gone and done now, Billy John?”
Deputy Howard took a casual step back and removed his hat. “Oh, I’m just teasin’ her some. Telling her how a bowl of veal soup would cure me of my ailment, but she got mighty prickly about it.”
Uncle Melvin chuckled. “Now, Essie, don’t be so hard on him. It’s been a month of Sundays since that boy’s had himself a homecooked meal.”
“I thought that boy had dinner with you and Aunt Verdie last week?”
“Well, that’s not quite the same, is it, Deputy?”
Howard turned up his smile. “I do enjoy Mrs. Dunn’s cookin’, sir, but having a meal put together by Miss Spreckelmeyer surely does sound right nice.”
She poured a cup of milk into the soup. “Perhaps another time.”
Replacing his hat on his head, he nodded. “I’ll be countin’ on it, ma’am.”
Uncle Melvin opened the door. Deputy Howard passed through it, his footfalls heavy as he made his way off the porch.
When the door remained open, she looked back over her shoulder.
Uncle Melvin stood puzzled, his hand on the knob. “What is it about him that rubs you so raw?”
“How much time do you have?”
He chuckled. “Oh, I know you told him to leave you be, and if he doesn’t, you just tell me and I’ll talk to him. But, girl, he really has taken a shine to you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You’re nearly thirty-four, Essie. He’s a good man, and if you don’t take him, you might not ever—”
She slammed the lid on the pot. “I’m not interested.”
He held up his hands. “All right. All right.”
Sighing, she wiped a spot of milk off the stove with her apron. “How was Papa?”
“Struggling. Tonight’s supper won’t be easy.” He gave her a sad smile, retrieved his hat and quietly closed the door behind him.
Essie slumped against the stove. When it came to his deputy, Uncle Melvin wore blinders. She couldn’t understand how such a shrewd judge of character could be as deluded as Melvin was to Mr. Howard’s true nature. She’d begged Papa to intervene, but he always demurred.
“If you’ve heard rumors about the man, then you can be sure Melvin has, too. If he chooses not to credit them, then we ought to
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