Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss(28)
A chill washed over Hunter. He wasn’t sure if his father was warning him, or threatening him. And why?
“What do you know about a group called the Syndicate?”
His father’s expression darkened. Shadows from the flames flickered across his aged face and for the longest time he said nothing. “Are you stupid, boy? Did you not hear what I just said?”
Hunter’s heart stilled. “What do you know about them? Who are they and what do they have to do with Yucton or Abbott Connolly?”
His father leaned back into his chair and picked up his newspaper, each movement slow and deliberate. “Never heard of them.”
“You’re lying.” He’d bet his gun hand on it. But his father had fallen silent, the only sound in the room the logs crackling and crumbling within the fire. A sick feeling coiled in Hunter’s gut.
“Think maybe it’s time you left. You’ve outstayed your welcome.”
Hunter stood and stared down at his father. This whole mess was becoming a jumble of puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together. But one piece he was certain about. He needed to keep a close eye on Meredith Connolly. Vernon’s veiled threat echoed inside of him. Seven years ago, he’d made a promise. He’d thought sending Meredith far away would mean the end of it. It didn’t. It was becoming a bit clearer just how deep the threat went. Just not clear enough.
Yet.
Whoever the Syndicate was, wherever they fit in this puzzle, he needed to find out—and he needed to make sure Meredith didn’t become tangled up in it.
Chapter Seven
The muscles in Meredith’s arms pulled against the tension of the reins as the wagon jostled over the rutted road. She hadn’t driven a wagon in a long while; there’d been no need in Boston with cabs at the ready to take you where you needed to go. It had made her soft, but that would change, she determined. Until it did, however, she was more than happy to see the small cabin on the horizon.
Pa hadn’t owned a lot of land, but what he had owned was, in her estimation, the prettiest spot in all of Salvation Falls. Surrounded mostly by trees along one side and the back, the cabin was tucked into a little alcove that had protected it from the elements and left it shaded in the summer. The creek ran a short distance away along the other side and on still evenings she remembered lying in her bed with the window open listening to its babble as the water rushed past, gliding over the rocks as if it was in a hurry to get somewhere.
She pulled the wagon up to the cabin and sat for a moment staring at her old home. Bertram had done an excellent job seeing the place tended to. It looked exactly as she had left it for the most part. The trees were taller and the garden her mother kept had become overgrown. None of that mattered. In her mind’s eye, she could see Mama standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip and a gentle smile spread across her face. The years and the hardship had done nothing to diminish her mother’s beauty, and though she could have chosen an easier life by marrying Vernon Donovan, she’d told Meredith shortly before she passed on that she hadn’t regretted her decision to follow her heart for one minute. Meredith wished she could say the same thing.
She blinked back the tears at the memory and took a deep breath. “Enough of that,” she said, giving herself a shake.
She pulled the brake and climbed down from the wagon. She’d been careful to dress more appropriately today, wearing one of her less elaborate dresses. The cream-and-navy-striped cotton silk had a small bustle but no lengthy train. The ruffle along the hemline brushed her ankles and made it easier to maneuver the wagon and rougher terrain.
She made a mental note to ensure the next dress she designed had similar features. She wasn’t in Boston any longer and she needed to adapt her designs to fit the lives of the women in Salvation Falls.
Despite her happy memories of her old home, it looked lonely and forlorn, left behind and forgotten. “I told you I’d come back,” she whispered, as if the wooden logs piled atop one another to create its structure were living, breathing things. She touched them with affection as she stood in front of the door.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the rough wood. Oftentimes her mother would hang dried herbs and flowers on the front of it, but any hint of them was long gone. Meredith pushed down on the door latch and opened it, holding her breath.
The interior was smaller than in her memories. She marveled at how the three of them had lived comfortably within its confines without constantly bumping into each other. But then, when you filled a house with love, perhaps its dimensions expanded to accommodate you and you didn’t notice the cramped quarters quite so much.