Harvest Moon (Jordan-Alexander Family 2)

“Then we need to check the hotel and the boardinghouses about a room, and we should stop in at the mercantile.” It occurred to David that he’d begun to think of her as Tessa rather than Miss Roarke. He’d have to remember to call her Miss Roarke in public.

“Why? The mercantile don’t have rooms to let.”

“I know. But it has clothes—dresses. Tessa’s going to need something to wear home from the jail. Her saloon dress is ruined, so I thought we’d buy her another dress. A different type of dress.”

“Can we get a green one?”

David grinned at Coalie. “Maybe. Is green your favorite color?”

“Nah.” Coalie waited while David pulled on his new coat. “I like red. Tessa likes green.”

Horace Greeley ambled from the spare bedroom and trotted along at David’s heels. Coalie followed both of them out the front door, where Greeley began an exploration of the alley. Coalie picked up his pace until he was walking abreast of David Alexander down Main Street toward the mercantile.

David ruffled the boy’s hair. “So you think a green dress will please her?”

“No doubt about it,” Coalie answered. “But I don’t think any of the people in town’ll be willing to let Tessa stay with them. She’s gonna have to stay with us.” He looked up at David. “And I ain’t at all sure what she’ll say about yer cat.”

* * *

An hour later they entered the jail. Coalie sat quietly while David discussed Tessa’s situation with the sheriff.

“You can’t release her into my custody. She’s an unmarried female. What about her reputation?” David fought to keep his voice at a conversational level as he shoved the legal document back across the sheriff’s scarred oak desk.

“I don’t have a choice, Mr. Alexander, and neither do you.” Sheriff Bradley was perhaps forty-five, but his white hair, his weathered face, and the determined glint in his eyes made him look like an ancient warrior. “The hotel won’t take her, and the boardinghouse won’t neither. You said so yourself. Do you have any better ideas? I can’t take her home with me. My wife wouldn’t stand for it if I brought a soiled dove into the house. What do you want me to do with her? Send her to Fort Laramie? Or Cheyenne? She’s charged with killin’ a man. I can’t let her go, and I can’t keep her here with a bunch of rowdies. That’d be askin’ for trouble.” The sheriff fixed his gaze on David. “You’re the only one who can put her up.”

David glared at the man. “You know how people talk. If she stays with me, her reputation will be shredded overnight.”

“She’s a saloon girl,” the sheriff stated bluntly. “If she ever had a reputation, it’s shot to hell by now. Besides, you’re representing her. I don’t think staying with you until this mess is resolved will do her any more harm. Might even help.”

David raised an eyebrow. He was from a prominent family, but he was also one-half Cherokee Indian. He seriously doubted that living, even briefly, with a man of mixed blood would help Tessa Roarke’s reputation.

“Well,” Sheriff Bradley repeated, “it can’t do her any more damage. Besides, there’s the boy. You said he’d be staying with you. He can chaperone.”

David glanced to where Coalie sat next to the potbellied stove, holding the brown-wrapped packages and balancing a hatbox on his knees. “An eight- or nine-year-old boy is not a suitable chaperone.”

The sheriff smiled. “You’d be surprised. Well, I guess you’re just gonna have to chance it. ’Cause I don’t have a choice.” He took the ring of keys from the drawer of his desk. “Do you want her or not?”

David knew when to admit defeat. “I’ll take her.”

“Well, then, she’s yours. Temporarily, anyhow.” The sheriff grinned. “Let’s go get her.”

* * *

Tessa looked up as the sheriff turned the key in the lock and swung the iron door open.

“I’m releasing you to Mr. Alexander’s custody, Miss Roarke. He’s your lawyer. He’ll take good care of you.”

David’s large frame hovered behind the sheriff.

Tessa took one look at him. “Over my dead body.”

“Don’t you think one dead body a day is enough, Miss Roarke?” David asked.

“I’d rather stay here.” She glanced at the sheriff, then the lawyer. She couldn’t go back to Chicago even if she wanted to. She couldn’t risk taking Coalie back there. And there was no place else—except the Satin Slipper.

“You can’t stay here,” David told her. “By tonight this jail will be full of rowdy men. The sheriff needs this cell.”

“Is that true?” She directed her question at the lawman.