Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma (17 page)

Gene had spent all morning at the jail, processing his latest criminal. What a night, trying to catch the guy! But now the fella was safely locked behind bars and awaiting his turn before the judge at the county seat.

Sometime around noon, the telephone rang. Gene assumed Charlie would pick it up, but from the look of things, his deputy had fallen asleep at his desk. Who could blame him?

Gene stifled a yawn and answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“It’s time to give thanks!” His mother’s cheerful voice rang out on the other end of the line. “We’re about to put the food on the table. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starved,” he said. As if to prove it, his stomach rumbled.

“Well, c’mon over, then. Charlie coming with you?” she asked.

“Nope. He’s gonna stay here and guard our prisoner while I eat. Then I’ll come back so he can rest.”

“We’ll send food back with you when you go,” she said. “But in the meantime, I hope you’ll hurry up. We’re ready to get the children seated and dive in.”

“Are William and Jacob behaving themselves?”

“They’re being themselves.” A chuckle followed. “But so far no bones broken, and that includes the wishbone on the turkey we’re itching to eat. So, hurry up, son. We’re starving over here.”

“All right. I’ll be right there.”

Gene checked on their prisoner, who still looked pretty inebriated from all the whiskey he’d consumed the night before. According to the sheriff in Tushka, there was still one more outlaw on the loose. Gene would celebrate with the others, but he would keep his eyes open for anything suspicious along the way.

He rattled the jail keys, which woke Charlie up at once.

“Leaving?” Charlie yawned.

“Mm-hmm. I’ll bring back some food when we’re done.”

“Sounds great.” The young deputy rose and stretched then gave Gene a scrutinizing look. “You’re going to Thanksgiving dinner looking like that?” He pointed at Gene’s shirt and trousers, but his gaze lingered on the muddy boots.

“Don’t really have time to go home and change. They’re waiting dinner on me. Do I really look that bad?” For once, he wished for a mirror in the jail so he could see for himself.

“Well, if you’re headed to the field to work, you don’t look half bad.” Charlie chuckled. “But if you’ve got your heart set on impressing a woman, I’d say you’ll have the opposite effect. You’ve got rips in your jeans, and your boots are caked with mud.”

“Nothing I can do about that. Don’t have any other boots to change into.”

“You definitely don’t want to know what your hair looks like.”

Gene ran his fingers through his wavy hair and sighed. “Probably like I’ve been out running in the woods all night, tracking a bank robber.”

“Exactly.” Charlie laughed. “One thing’s for sure—no one can accuse you of not working hard. You might not show up at the dinner table looking like a dandy, but at least you’ve got a good reason. And I’m pretty sure the smell of the pumpkin pie will drown out the odor from not bathing.”

Gene groaned. “That bad?”

Charlie wrinkled his nose. “Maybe the smell’s coming from the boots. You were wading in the swamp, right?”

“Had no choice. That’s where I caught up with him.” Gene gave the raggedy-looking fellow in the jail cell another glance. The man had caused more than enough grief last night.

“Guess I’d better git.” Gene offered Charlie a quick good-bye and headed off in his car to the children’s home.

He pulled up to the front of the house and gave it a long look. Though Rena had done her best to clean up the place, it still needed a coat of fresh paint. And new boards to replace the busted front steps. And a new roof.

Perhaps he and Charlie could put together a team of men to help with all of that. Surely they could get Jonathan to help. He seemed more than a little interested in the orphans these days. Or maybe his real interest wasn’t with the children at all. Maybe he had his eye on someone else entirely. Rena, perhaps? Or Jenny?

Why this idea bothered him so much, Gene couldn’t be sure. Jonathan was a great guy. Maybe a little too great.

Gene glanced at the dining-room window and sighed. Likely Brewer would be waiting inside, dressed to the nines and cooing over Jenny’s every word. Well, he would give the man a run for his money today. If only he’d had time to bathe and change into a decent suit. Oh well.

When he stepped out of the car, a scream came from the house. He recognized the voice at once. “Rena!”

Her bloodcurdling wails pierced the air. At once he feared the worst. Had the missing bank robber shown up here? With his mother and boys inside?

Gene drew his pistol and rushed the door, kicking it open. Another scream sent a shiver down his spine. It was followed by the sound of multiple squeals coming from the dining room, including a definitive one from Jacob. Gene pointed the gun in front of him as he eased his way down the hallway, closer and closer. The screams continued, which only agitated him further.

He found Rena standing on a chair in the dining room, pumpkin pie in hand, the children gathered around her. He expected to find them in tears, so the laughter from the children confused him. The goofy grins on William’s and Jacob’s faces alerted him to the fact that mischief was at work.

“What in the world?” He slipped his pistol back in its holster and took a few cautious steps into the room. “What’s happening here?”

“It’s a m–m–mouse!” Rena gripped the pie tin with one hand and pointed to the floor with the other. “Fool thing’s going to ruin a perfectly good Thanksgiving!”

He glanced down and saw what appeared to be a large white mouse scampering under the table. After a couple of seconds, something about the little critter seemed a bit odd. “Wait a minute.”

He knelt down and reached for the mouse, finding it to be a hand-carved bit of wood, cleverly painted with mouselike features. The so-called mouse began to move under his fingers and he started…until he realized that the string attached to it was being pulled by one of the boys on the far end of the table.

“Henry, you drop that string this instant.”

At once, the mouse ceased to move. Several of the boys—including his own—erupted in laughter. Even Timmy and Nate, usually the quietest of the bunch, doubled over in raucous chuckles.

“W–what?” Rena looked stunned. She shifted the pie from one hand to the other, nearly dropping it in the process.

“You’ve been duped, Miss Jewel.” Gene held it up, and the boys snickered. Well, all but Henry, who doubled over in laughter.

“You mean to tell me I almost sacrificed this pumpkin pie on account of a wooden mouse?” Rena placed the pie on the table, reached for a napkin, and began to fan herself.

“That would have been a tragic loss, Miss Jewel,” Jonathan said with a sad look. “I hear your pumpkin pie is the best in town.”

This seemed to calm her a bit, but Gene felt like rolling his eyes at Brewer’s compliment. For one thing, the man hadn’t even tasted her pie yet. How did he know it was the best in town? For another, why did that scoundrel have to show up dressed in such finery for a simple Thanksgiving dinner?

Rena turned to Jonathan and batted her lashes. “Actually, it’s the first pumpkin pie I’ve ever made. And after you taste it, I’m pretty sure you’re going to wish I’d dropped it on the ground.”

“Doubtful.” Jonathan reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, which seemed to render her speechless.

“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Carolina said. “Let’s pray, folks. I’m hungry.”

“Just a moment, Mother.” Gene put up his hand. “Before we do that, I believe the boys need a bit of comeuppance about the prank they just played on Miss Jewel.”

“Right now?” Rena asked. “We’re just about to sit down to dinner.”

“Right now.” He gave his boys a warning look and then pointed to Henry. “You. Come with me.”

Henry followed him out of the room and received a brief but effective tongue-lashing. By the time they walked back into the dining room, Gene was starving. Apparently, so were all the boys. At this point the children began to talk above each other, their high-pitched voices overlapping. The twins were already scuffling to see who could reach the mashed potatoes first. One of them—Kenny, maybe?—flung his body across the table, now face-to-face with his brother on the opposite side.

“Yes, let’s all sit down, shall we?” Rena plopped down in her chair at the end of the larger table. When she landed, the strangest sound erupted. She glanced down, her eyes growing wide, and the boys took to laughing all over again. Her face turned bright red, and she started to fan herself with her napkin once more. “Oh my!”

“Stand up, Miss Jewel.” Gene gestured to the seat.

She eased her way up and he reached down and lifted up the poo-poo cushion.

“Merciful heavens.” She shook her head and closed her eyes.

“It would appear you’ve been had once again.” Gene offered her a smile, which he hoped would be encouraging.

“I suppose I have.” Her nose wrinkled, and he realized the swamp smell must have gotten to her. Oh well. Surely she would understand. He hoped.

“Did someone just kill a skunk in here, or am I imagining things?” his mother asked. She pinched her nose.

Gene groaned. “It’s my boots, Mother. They got wet when I…aw, never mind.” He walked to the door, pulled off the boots and the wet socks, and tossed them out onto the front porch.

He walked back inside the dining room just in time to see Jonathan playing the role of host, carving the turkey. Gene groaned inwardly, realizing that the dapper fellow had stolen the attention and admiration of both young women. Well, surely Rena wouldn’t pay him too much mind.

Rena?

Jenny, of course. Surely
Jenny
wouldn’t pay him too much mind.

Gene turned to look at the two women seated beside each other. Jenny’s beautiful face caught his eyes at once, but it was Rena’s laughter that filled the room. For a moment, he looked back and forth between them, torn. His gaze finally rested on Rena.

Gene paused to think about the changes that had taken place in the orphanage since her arrival. Sure, her attempts to teach the children manners were admirable, though the results—or lack thereof—were laughable. Still, there was something about those beautiful eyes. Something about her gentle, loving spirit that he suddenly found himself drawn to.

“White meat or dark?” Jonathan asked as he looked Gene’s way.

Gene attempted to refocus his thoughts. “Oh, dark, please. I’m a leg man myself. Always have been.”

This proclamation started the laughter all over again, especially from the boys. Gene fought the instinct to slap himself in the head and took a seat, instead, at the opposite end of the table from Rena, just next to Oliver. Great. Now he would have to go through the whole meal hearing his sentences repeated.

Sure enough, the youngster looked his way and echoed, “I’m a leg man. I’m a leg man!”

“You’re about to be a whupped man if you don’t stop that,” Gene whispered, then offered a forced smile.

Oliver’s eyes widened and he nodded before taking the plate given him. Gene settled back in his chair, overwhelmed by the odor now coming from his bare feet, and made up his mind to give thanks whether he felt like it or not.

T
IPS FOR
D
EALING WITH
U
NRULY
Y
OUNG
’
UNS
—
My pa says I should do as I’m told. He don’t know how hard I try! When Jacob smacks me upside my head, I count to ten every time before smacking him back. And I tried turnin’ the other cheek once, but he hit that one too. Honest and true, I wish Pa would take me fishin’ so we could talk. He says he’s too busy sheriff’n and such, but I think he could lasso the bad guys with a pole in his hand. Might be fun to watch him try, anyhow.

—William Wyatt, Age Eight

The Thanksgiving meal moved along at a happy pace until William and Jacob got into a fight over the cranberry relish. Jacob began a kicking fit, which caused the large oak table to vibrate. Gene had just started to speak up when Rena rose and walked their way.

“Boys, we love having you here, but we don’t tolerate fighting. Our fighting days are behind us now.”

Jacob shoved William so hard that he fell out of his chair and landed on the floor. Before long, they were really going to town, the smacking and punching louder than ever.

Gene watched with a smile as Rena tried her psychological approach once more. Her words fell on deaf ears as the boys continued to tussle. By now, the other boys were standing on their chairs, some rooting for William, others for Jacob.

Seconds later his two were up again. Jacob ran down the side of the table, knocking into one of the chairs and nearly toppling it. Lilly let out a cry, and Callie smacked Jacob upside the head.

“Be a gentleman,” she hollered.

This, of course, served to get the youngster madder than a hornet. He doubled up his fist and prepared to take her down a notch or two. Rena looked like she was just about to cry out a warning when Gene rose, took Jacob’s upraised hand into his own, and counted to ten. Slowly. By the time he’d finished, the boy had relaxed.