“The good thing is that he loves his work and does a decent job at it.” When he was sober.
Wyatt opened his mouth to say something, but Ivy stood abruptly, clanking the dishes and silverware remaining on the table. “You should have brought him with you.”
The accusation whipped against Jericho. If only she knew how many sacrifices he’d made over the past months for Dylan. The biggest one had been in setting aside his pride and asking his dad for help.
He placed a half-dollar coin over the bowl of his pipe, extinguished it, then stood. “Best be heading out.” He reached for his hat where he’d discarded it on the bench and fit it over his head.
“Hold on.” Wyatt jumped to his feet.
Jericho paused.
“None of us ever got the chance to thank you.” Wyatt slanted a look toward Ivy, who’d begun to gather the pie plates. “Reckon we owe you a real big debt for all you’ve done for Dylan, including saving his life.”
Jericho accepted the thanks with a nod. Sometimes in the giving of gratitude, a man could find a sense of peace. And he hoped that was true for Wyatt. Neither Wyatt nor Flynn were to blame for Dylan’s wild living. They’d done the best they could to raise him up right, but Dylan had gone his own way.
Jericho started across the room.
“Where you staying?” Wyatt followed him.
“In town. I’ll get a room at one of the hotels—”
“Take Dylan’s bed in the cabin with Judd.”
Ivy stopped midmotion, a stack of dishes in her hand.
Jericho halted at the door. “I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s been empty all this time.” The edge of sadness in Wyatt’s tone told Jericho they’d been waiting for Dylan to return, that they’d left his things untouched with the hope he’d come back. And now, Jericho had just crushed their hope.
“I’m sorry—”
Wyatt clamped Jericho on his shoulder. “It’d make us real happy to have you live here as long as you need. Until you get yourself settled into your own place.”
Jericho hesitated. Staying in town at the hotel would allow him to listen in on more conversations, spy on the comings and goings of everyone, and poke around for information. But how could he graciously turn down Wyatt’s offer?
“Free of charge,” Wyatt added quickly. “With your meals here at the house.”
“I couldn’t—”
“After everything you’ve done for Dylan, it’s the least we can do.”
Jericho didn’t glance at Ivy, but as her silence stretched out, he guessed she wasn’t feeling quite as hospitable as Wyatt.
As though recognizing Ivy’s resistance, Wyatt pinned another gaze on his sister, this one with his brows furrowed. Wyatt wasn’t a strict disciplinarian like Flynn and always had trouble keeping control of Ivy. Her participation in the competitions today was proof enough of that.
Ivy started to busy herself again. “Jericho might like town, where he won’t be tempted to butt into other people’s business.”
Wyatt palmed the back of his neck again, his expression confused, almost comically so.
“Ain’t that right, Jericho?” Ivy didn’t pause in her cleanup.
Was she hoping he’d refuse to stay at Healing Springs for fear he might tattle on her for pretending to be Buster Bliss? Or was she sneaking around doing other things she shouldn’t be? Things she was afraid he’d discover if he stayed on?
“Actually, I like butting into other people’s business, especially when they’re involved in deception.”
Ivy started toward the kitchen and shot him a glare filled with warning.
Jericho forced his gaze to Wyatt. “Thank you, Wyatt. I accept your offer.”
Wyatt said something else that Jericho let go in one ear and out the other, his attention too fixed upon Ivy’s stiff shoulders and remembering what those shoulders had looked like bare in the moonlight.
As soon as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, he released a pent-up breath and stared at the starry host. He was as tight as a nail driven high into a horseshoe. What had he been thinking to decide to stay? Such a move had been impulsive and totally out of character for him.
Who was turning into the idiot now?
With a shake of his head, he started toward the ranch-hand cabins.
After starting at the Pinkerton Agency shortly after his return to Chicago, he’d solved several important cases within the first few months. He’d realized what everyone else at the agency had—he was a good detective. And he liked the work. Much more than he’d ever thought possible.
With the Department of Justice possibly offering the Pinkerton Agency a contract for tracking down the hardest federal criminals, the agency had given him this job in Colorado to prove to the DOJ that their detectives were the best. Everyone was counting on him to help the agency get the lucrative and prestigious deal.
He’d stay a night or two at most with the McQuaids, then he’d focus on his mission, one that required all his wits and then some. He didn’t need any distractions. And he certainly didn’t want to put anyone else in danger on account of his work.
His dad had done that, and look what had happened to his mom. One of the criminals Dad had been tracking had kidnapped and killed her in retaliation. And his dad had been a wreck ever since.
Jericho had ended up following in his dad’s footsteps into detective work, but he’d never follow in his dad’s footsteps and get married and put a wife in peril. He knew where to draw the line—had already drawn the line—and he had no intention of crossing it. Not now or any time in the future.
Chapter
5
“How do I look?” The slant of the ceiling of the dormer room prevented Ivy from straightening all the way. But she managed to twirl around anyway and give Astrid full view of her appearance.
Perched on the edge of the bed they shared, Astrid cocked her head, studying Ivy with narrowed eyes. “If I tell you the truth, do you promise not to be sore at me?”
Ivy paused and swished the green skirt with white pinstripes, relishing the silkiness against her bare legs. She knew she needed to wear the petticoat that had come with the outfit, but the fancy skirt was progress enough without having all the other stuff underneath.
“Of course I won’t be sore.” Ivy smoothed a hand over the matching bodice and the tiny velvet-covered buttons that ran up the front, for once wishing their room had a mirror.
Astrid stood and folded her hands. “The bodice is much too tight.”
Ivy glanced down at her chest. The buttons did strain a little, but who would notice? Especially with the lacy collar and identical lace at the cuffs of each sleeve.
“You should take out the seams as Linnea suggested.”
“It’ll be fine.” Ivy swiped up a straw hat with a ribbon of the same pinstripe material and dainty flower on the side. “What do you think?”
“Wear it like this.” Astrid tilted it so far, Ivy was afraid it would slip off.
Earlier in the spring, Linnea had given Ivy a trunk full of gowns she no longer wore. They were all much fancier than anything Ivy had ever owned, but for a wealthy eastern lady like Linnea, the clothing had become outdated. Since Linnea’s mother sent her new garments from time to time, Linnea had no need to hang on to everything.