Also, it seemed her adjustment to the marriage bed was impressive. He winced. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be as fertile as Amy.
“Oatmeal is easy to make.” Matt looked warily at the lump of dough on the kitchen table that Angel attempted to turn into biscuits.
“Is it?” Angel eyed the mess stuck to her fingers.
“Mrs. Darby made it all the time. I know how to do it,” he boasted.
“Could you show me? When your grandparents were here, your papa made it.” She spoke over her shoulder as she rinsed her hands under the water pump.
“Sure. Come on, it’s easy.”
Angel stood by and watched her nine-year-old stepson teach her how to make oatmeal. If she weren’t so anxious to get a meal on the table they could eat, she would be embarrassed. Mrs. Darby had shown her, but being so overwhelmed at the time, Angel had no recollection of how it was done.
She tossed the lump of biscuit dough in the garbage, and set bowls on the table, while Matt stirred the oatmeal. It did look easy, and she could probably fix it herself next time. Soon the rest of the family joined them.
After slicing the bread, Angel put a big scoop of oatmeal in each bowl, while Nate strapped Julia-Rose in her chair. Placing the jars of molasses and jam on the table, she glanced at the stove. “Oh, I forgot the coffee.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“It’s all right. I can do without it. Just pour me a glass of milk.”
My, we’re much more relaxed and cheerful today, aren’t we? She smiled as she poured the milk, and they all sat down. They had almost finished, when a knock sounded on the back door, and a man, a gun strapped to his waistline, walked in.
Angel’s heart sped up, but a glance at Nate’s welcoming smile relaxed her. “Mornin’, Sheriff.” He nodded in the big man’s direction. “Had breakfast yet?”
“Yes, I did, Nate. Thanks.” He took off his hat and walked up to her. “Is this the new wife?”
Nate turned to Angel. “This is Sheriff James Travis. Sheriff, my wife, Angel.”
He stuck out a meaty hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Her small hand about disappeared into his large one. A handlebar mustache covered a good portion of his face, but the twinkle in his soft brown eyes, and his warm smile, made him appear less threatening.
“What can we do for you?” Nate asked.
Angel glanced at Mark who had gone quite pale. He kept wiggling in his seat, his eyes darting back and forth as if looking for an escape.
“Mark, do you need to visit the privy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He answered quickly, and leapt to his feet.
The sheriff clamped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Stay here a minute, son.”
She shot Nate a questioning look.
“Is something wrong?” Nate pushed his bowl away, and leaned his elbows on the table, frowning at his son.
“I’d like to talk to you and the misses. And Mark.” He stared down at the boy.
Nate stood. “Matt, go on to school. Luke, you and John start your chores.”
Matt regarded his brother, and after picking up his books, hesitated at the door.
“Matt, I said go on to school.” Nate made a shooing motion with his hand. “Let’s go in the parlor, Sheriff.”
Angel’s stomach clenched as she picked up Julia-Rose. The Sheriff looked serious and Mark appeared nervous. She quickly wiped the baby’s face and hands and joined the men and Mark in the other room. The child perched on the edge of a chair, his arms crossed, head hanging down.
“Yesterday morning, someone broke into Conway’s Hardware storage room. He busted the window to get in, and from the looks of it, ate a lunch there, and spent some time.” The sheriff spoke softly, but his words cut through the silence like a shout.
Nate stared at the sheriff, eyebrows arched.
Sheriff Travis turned to Mark. “Young man, can you tell me why a paper with your name on it was found right under the glass from the broken window?”