The Highlander Next Door (22 page)

An even longer silence, then a sudden laugh. “Sure, Chief, whatever you say. I’m just glad I’m standing in
my
shoes and not yours. Good luck,” she ended cheerily before the line went dead.

Niall set down the phone and wrote forty-six dollars and fifty cents on a pad of paper. He added seven hundred fifty dollars directly beneath it, drew a line, then wrote the grand total of seven hundred ninety-six dollars and fifty cents in big bold numbers. Ignoring the approaching footsteps and keeping his head bent to hide his grin, he then wrote the word
BAIL
at the top of the sheet.

“When we were trapped in Vaughn’s cellar,” Birch whispered as her shadow fell over his desk, “you said we would be working together for the
good
of my residents.”

“Do ye also recall my saying that I care about them as much as you do?” he asked without looking up.

“Then let me pay the damages and take Noreen home.”

Niall set down his pen, glanced over to see the holding cell door was closed and the curtain drawn, then leaned back in his chair and finally looked at Birch. “Her home is four and a half miles down the road,” he said softly, “with the man she’s been married to for more than forty-three years.”

“I’m well aware—” Birch stopped in midsentence and cocked her head—much the way her father did, Niall realized. “What are you up to?”

“About six-foot-three the last time I checked,” he said, not exactly sure why he was baiting her. Except . . . well, he didn’t like that she didn’t trust him; not just with this situation, but as a man. No, a
lover
. Dammit,
she
had seduced
him
; if the woman could trust him with her beautiful, delicate body, why in hell couldn’t she trust him now?

“Who’s looking after the woman and child you just rescued?” he asked, deciding to change the subject before he said something he truly would regret.

“Macie,” she growled in a whisper. “I sent Cassandra into the Bottoms Up when I caught her standing in the crowd and she told me what was going on. I had her and Macie take the woman and daughter to the shelter and stay with them until I got back—which I promised would be
in a short while
.”

Niall disguised the fact he was checking his watch again by folding his arms over his chest, and stifled a scowl when he realized French had been gone nearly an hour. “I find myself wondering how a crisis center that didn’t even exist a month ago is all but bursting at the seams all of a sudden. What did all these women do before?”

“They suffered in silence,” she snapped. Birch took a deep breath in an apparent attempt to rein in her temper. “It can go either way when a new shelter opens,” she said calmly, likely thinking to soften him up by answering his questions. “There can be a stampede of women hoping they’ll finally get help, or no one will show up because they don’t trust something they’ve never seen before.” She shrugged. “It seems to be fifty-fifty here; Noreen and Macie came on their own, but I’ve had to go after some—mostly younger girls like Misty and Cassandra—and explain what it is I do and point out that they’ll be safer with me than they are right now.”

“Are you expecting things to slow down, then? Ye have what—eight beds?”

She nodded, her voice losing more of its tightness while remaining low. “There will be times when we’re full because of children coming with their mothers, but for the population of this area I expect to have four or five residents on any given night. Hopefully even less than that, once I start having counseling sessions and hosting one-day workshops with various state agencies to show women they have several options. Speaking of full beds, can you have Officer Sheppard patrol the camp road in case the woman’s husband comes looking for her?” She glanced toward the holding cell. “And maybe have him patrol
all night
?” she added, some of her anger returning.

“It’s already done, Birch. Both Jake and Shep are there now.”

Apparently not wanting him to see her surprise, Birch looked toward the closed station door. “Do you know where my father is?”

“Seeing how you were rather busy, I imagine he decided to stay and have dinner at the Drunken Moose.”

“Since he never called to tell me he was coming, do
you
know why he’s here?” Her eyes narrowed. “And since you obviously knew who he was earlier, can you tell me why he introduced himself to you before coming to see me?”

“I’m afraid that’s something you’re going to have to ask—”

They both looked toward the door at the sound of a vehicle speeding down the lane and skidding to a stop out front. Niall ripped the top page off his notepad and stood up, then walked over to stand in front of the holding cell as two truck doors opened and slammed shut. Uneven footsteps pounded up the stairs and Logan burst into the station looking . . . well, madder than a
rooster
caught in a rainstorm, Niall decided smugly.

“Where is she!” Logan shouted, causing one stunned spitfire to scurry out of the way when the man advanced on Niall without slowing down. “Where in hell is my wife!”

“Logan? Oh, Logan, I’m in here!” Noreen cried as the bedsprings squeaked and the curtains parted, her blotchy, tear-swollen face appearing in the window as she gripped the bars. “I’ve been
arrested
.”

“The hell you are. You’re coming home with me right now!”

“There’s a small matter of damages that have to be paid first,” Niall said quietly, moving to block the door when Logan tried to go around him.

The man shot him a glare even as he reached into his back pocket. “I’ll pay for whatever goddamned dishes she broke. Just tell me how much.”

“I’m afraid there’s also a fine that has to be satisfied before she can leave.”

Logan stilled with his wallet half open. “A fine for what?”

“Inciting a riot.” Niall held up the piece of paper for Logan to see the total, which caused the man to pale to the roots of his gray hair on a strangled gasp.

Another gasp sounded off to the side. “You can’t just arbitrarily make up a fine,” Birch said. “Only a judge has that kind of authority.”

“We do things differently here in America, Miss Callahan,” Niall blatantly lied, giving her a pointed look and hoping to God she was perceptive enough to get with the program. “Chiefs of police in towns situated this far from their county courthouses are allowed to set our own fines to expedite matters.”

Logan pointed at the piece of paper. “But that’s highway robbery!” His eyes narrowed. “And what proof you got it was Noreen who started the riot, anyway?”

“I have at least thirty witnesses.”

Logan shot an uncertain glance over his shoulder at the wisely quiet Silas French standing in the doorway, turned and scowled at Niall for several seconds, then leaned to the side to see Noreen—the man’s chest deflating and his eyes suddenly softening. “Just look at you, Norrie,” he said gruffly. “You been crying so hard you’ve gone and made yourself sick. You stop that now, you hear. I’m not gonna leave you in there a minute longer than it takes me to go to the bank and get the money.”

“Th-the bank’s already closed, Logan,” Noreen said, tears streaming down her cheeks again. “And it’s Friday. I’m gonna be here all
weekend
,” she ended in a wail.

“I can—” Birch started, only to snap her mouth shut when Niall shot her a glare.

“Then I’ll run back and get our checkbook,” Logan promised, his eyes hardening again as he looked up at Niall. “If I write you a goddamn check, will you let me take her home tonight?”

“Or, since I’d rather not get a reputation for being unreasonable,” Niall said, “I’m willing to let you pay only the damages if you give me your word that you’ll use the bail money to buy a new cookstove instead.”

Two gasps sounded again—this time one from Birch and one from the holding cell—and Logan frowned so hard his face had to hurt.

“It just so happens,” Niall continued, “that the appliance store in Millinocket had a flyer in this week’s paper, and I noticed they sell several models of cookstoves that run anywhere from seven to eight hundred dollars.” He shrugged. “Your choice,” he said quietly. “Come back after the bank opens on Monday and bail out your wife, or take her home right now by giving me your word to buy a stove.”

Logan looked down at the wallet in his hand for several heartbeats again, then stepped to the side and lifted his gaze to Noreen. “Ah . . . after I mailed the check for the beekeeping equipment, I drove down to Millinocket and went to that appliance store,” he admitted gruffly. “And I saw a really fancy stove I thought you might like that’s got a glass top so you don’t have to keep scrubbing those pans under the coil burners. It even has a second oven in the drawer on the bottom, and instead of knobs the whole back panel is smooth with little squares you just touch, so it’s easy to clean, too.”

“But a stove like that has to cost a fortune,” Noreen whispered.

Logan’s cheeks darkened as he shifted uncomfortably and dropped his gaze to his wallet again. “It’s, ah, it was recently brought to my attention that having high-quality equipment can turn a daily chore into a . . . labor of love.” He looked up, his faded hazel eyes filling with tenderness. “And remembering how you always insisted I buy the best and safest chainsaws back when I was logging, I got to thinking that a woman who loves cooking as much as you do deserves the best stove in that store.”

Okay, Niall figured he’d have to concede that point to Silas French.

Logan pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and a ten, closed his wallet and slipped it in his back pocket, then held the money out to Niall. “This is for the damages. And you have my word the first purchase I make when I sell my honey this fall will be a stove.”

Niall pulled his hand back without taking the money and shook his head. “Your word to purchase it no later than Monday or the fine stands.”

Logan’s jaw momentarily slackened, but then his entire face turned as dark as a thundercloud. “God dammit, I can’t! There’s barely enough money left in our savings to buy a
cheap
stove. I’d have to cash in one of our certificates of deposit to buy that fancy one now, and the bank’s gonna charge me an arm and a leg for early withdrawal.”

“I’ll wait,” Noreen suddenly piped up. She rushed out of the holding cell—only a brute would have actually locked the door—and slid her arm through Logan’s as she smiled up at Niall—making Niall wonder if he’d ever seen the woman smile before. “Really, I don’t mind waiting until this fall if it means the difference between getting a regular stove or one with two ovens and a glass top and no knobs.” She melted into Logan when he protectively slipped his arm around her. “I’ll just get creative by making salads and sandwiches and using the gas grill.” She leaned slightly away. “Do we still have that tin reflector oven you made after we saw that one at the lumber camp museum? Then I can still bake pies and biscuits,” she said when Logan nodded. “That is, if you don’t mind building me a campfire,” she added in a . . . good Lord, the woman was all but
purring
.

She took the money out of her husband’s hand when it seemed all Logan could do was nod again, and held it out to Niall. “And you have
my
word, Chief MacKeage, that I won’t incite any more riots. I’ll apologize to Vanetta, too,” she added when Niall hesitated before finally taking the money. She then turned away, turning Logan with her, and started toward the door—which Silas French was no longer standing in, apparently having realized he’d better start hunting for a new place to live.

“You remember when we used to make bean-hole beans?” Noreen continued to Logan as the couple walked away. “If you dig me a pit, I can cook other meals in the ground, too, including your favorite—pot roast and turnips.”

“I’ll dig you a pit,” Logan said thickly as he slid his arm around her again and gave her a squeeze. “And I’ll hang a tarp over the grill for when it rains. I can even give our old picnic table a paint job and set it up on the knoll under that big maple tree you love, and we can eat up there in the shade however often you want.”

Noreen cuddled even closer to him with what sounded like a sigh of contentment. “So when are the bees coming?” Niall heard her ask when they reached the porch. “How many hives did you order? Oh, Logan, who would have thought we’d be producing our very own honey. Does that company sell those cute little bottles shaped like bears? We’re going to have to design a really nice label and come up with a catchy name for our new business.”

Logan led her down the stairs to his rusty old truck and opened the passenger door, but stopped her from getting in. Even from where he stood, Niall could see the man’s cheeks darken. “I, ah . . . I was thinking the labels we put on the honey jars could say
Norrie’s Golden Nectar
.”

Niall felt his own jaw slacken as Noreen also gaped at her husband, before the woman suddenly threw her arms around him. “Oh, Logi, that’s beautiful!” She leaned away just enough to finger his shaggy gray hair. “You look like a pirate, Mr. Kent.”

“You could give me a haircut out on the porch tomorrow morning if you want. I fixed those two broken boards and painted the whole floor so everything matches.”

“Mmmm, we’ll see,” she said, giving his unshaven cheek a kiss, then turning and climbing in the truck. She fastened her seat belt, folded her hands on her lap, and looked out the windshield with another sigh. “Take me home, husband.”

Logan closed the door, did a stiff-jointed hustle around the front of the truck, and climbed in behind the wheel. The truck started with a loud rattling cough, made a six-point turn between the station and the shoreline, and disappeared up the lane.

“What . . .” Birch cleared her throat. “What just happened?”

Niall looked down at the two twenty – and one ten-dollar bills in his hand. “I believe we just witnessed a miracle.”

“Um, how did you know Logan would come charging in here like an angry bear and pay Noreen’s fine, when he wouldn’t even buy her a cookstove before?”

Niall looked up and shrugged. “It’s been my experience that no matter how out of sorts a man is with his wife, if he feels someone else is treating her badly, he will come out swinging—and not always just verbally.”