Lawfully Ours by Jo Grafford

Author:Jo Grafford [Grafford, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JG Press
Published: 2019-03-24T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8: Digging for Answers

Jack

Jack had no idea where to purchase a sofa in a town this small, but he figured the best place to start asking was at the Liberty Springs Inn. Of all the places in town he’d visited so far, the inn had the nicest furnishings. He needed to speak with Jed Monroe, anyway.

As soon he stepped inside, the young lad who normally seated him waved and hurried in his direction. It was between regular mealtimes, so the dining room was empty except for a table of four elderly gentlemen who were sipping coffee and gabbing.

“Would you like a table, sir?”

“Not this time, Mister, ah…I don’t believe we’ve ever been introduced.” He felt bad he didn’t know the fellow’s name with how many times he’d dined there.

“I’m Billy, sir. And everyone already knows you’re the marshal.” He scratched his head, looking puzzled. “If you’re not hungry, Mr. Holiday—”

“I need to speak with Jed.” Jack stepped around the young man and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

Billy caught up with him and spoke in anxious tones while walking backwards. “Perhaps I should fetch the mayor from his office. If Jed’s in any kind of trouble…” His voice dwindled anxiously.

“He’s not,” Jack assured. “It’s about a personal matter. A friend of his sister is injured.”

“Ah. In that case…” Billy stepped aside and allowed him to pass unimpeded through the doorway to the kitchen.

The room was toasty from the heat of several ovens going at the same time on the back wall, and the heavenly marinade of scents in the air was enough to set Jack’s mouth to watering. If he had to guess, there was meat roasting somewhere in the room, stew simmering, and bread baking. A long, wooden preparation table stood in the center of the room. Diced carrots and potatoes were piled on one end of it, circular swirls of onion were piled in the middle, and a bowl of reddish brown sauce was resting on the other end.

Jed had his back turned and was pulling a large tray of steak ribs from one of the ovens. He turned around and blinked at the sight of Jack standing just inside the doorway.

“Deputy Marshal,” he drawled, setting his tray down on the table beside the bowl of reddish brown sauce. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence in my kitchen?”

His kitchen? Jack was surprised at the possessive ring in Jed Monroe’s voice. He’d presumed he was merely the cook of the establishment.

“It’s about Catherine Rose.” He wasn’t looking forward to facing this giant of a man once the word spread about how he’d kissed her down near the church.

“Ah.” Jed lifted a long-handled brush from the bowl and began to paint the reddish brown sauce across the ribs. “I reckon it was only a matter of time before you came a-knockin’ to ask questions about our town’s sweet little seamstress.”

He had no idea what the man was talking about. “Actually, I came to inform you she’s been injured.

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