say what? Would anyone take her word over that of the charming priest?
CHAPTER FOUR
SLEEP EVADED GREER for the rest of the night. She slipped out of bed a number of times to check on Shelby. And to rattle the doors and windows and to listen in the kitchen for any caterwauling, as Noah Kelley had described the cries. She was haunted by the fact that the first sound had seemed so human. The subsequent ones Greer wasn’t so sure about.
When her bedside clock said five-thirty, she gave up attempting to sleep. Instead, she dressed and decided to put her restless energy to work doing something constructive, like unpacking their household.
She felt vulnerable and exposed standing in a brightly lit living room with gray layers of early dawn breaking, so much so that coverings for all the windows now headed her list of items to buy in town. She hoped the material her mother planned to use for kitchen curtains was opaque enough to leave her feeling secure.
Darn, she hated this loss of control. Hated the way the person or persons responsible for those night noises had undermined her confidence. She ran down a list of people who knew she was in town, but who might prefer she leave again. She still couldn’t help thinking it was just too convenient that she’d encountered Father Kelley at the river, and there’d been no sign of anyone else. No footprints except hers…and his.
Greer had the living room unpacked and set up much the same as their cabin at Whippoorwill had been by the time Shelby wandered out of her bedroom, still clutching a stuffed animal.
“Good morning, honeybun. How’s the arm today? Let me check your fingers. Kristin said we should keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t get puffy.”
“I can wiggle them and it doesn’t hurt.” Shelby skipped over to show her mother. As she crossed the room, her eyes widened and she grinned. “Did elves come in the night and make this room look just like our old house?”
Greer laughed. “Elf Mom deserves all the credit. While you snored away, sleepyhead, I’ve been busy. But Elf Mom needs a break. How about if I go fix pancakes and bacon for breakfast?”
“Can we have slices of the peach pie Miranda brought yesterday, instead? Grandma put it in the pantry, and we forgot about it last night.”
“You’re right. It slipped my mind because it was so late when we had supper. But Shelby, pie’s not what we eat for breakfast.”
“Why?”
“It’s too sweet. Pie is for dessert.”
“Peaches are fruit, Mama. And the syrup we put on pancakes is sweet.”
“Honestly, twerp, I’ve never known anybody who argued all the angles the way you do. I swear you’re going to be a lawyer when you grow up.” She ruffled Shelby’s sleep-flattened curls. “You know, pie does sound good. Who says we can’t break from tradition? We make the rules. You run and get dressed in the clothes I laid on your chest of drawers. I’ll make my coffee and pour you a glass of milk.”
“What’ll we do after breakfast? If we clean cottages, I’ll have to do stuff with one hand.
“I have something else in mind. Think you can hold the tape measure while I measure all our windows?”
Shelby nodded. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like not having our windows covered up at night. I thought we’d go to town, and I’ll see if the hardware store stocks louvered blinds.”
“Didn’t Grandma say she’s sewing us kitchen curtains?”
“Yes, but I started thinking that with guests having free run once we open, we’ll want our privacy. I believe there are blinds that fit behind curtains.”
“That’s okay then. ’Cause we don’t wanna hurt Grandma’s feelings.”
Greer caught the child close for an impulsive hug. “You’re a good kid, Shelby-girl. Do you know that?”
The girl wriggled loose. “You’re who taught me it’s not nice to hurt people’s feelings, Mama. You musta forgot yesterday, ’cause you weren’t very nice to Noah.”
“Father Kelley,” Greer reminded, a frown replacing her indulgent smile.
“He likes Noah better. We’re just s’posed to call him Father at church.”
“Shelby, didn’t you hear me say we’re not attending his church?”
“But I want to. Noah told me about lots of kids my age who go there.”
Shaking her head forcefully, Greer nevertheless saw that her protest was useless. Shelby dashed down the hall and disappeared into her room.
Lord, but she was a stubborn kid. Greer wondered if that was a trait Shelby had inherited from her dad? Then again, maybe it came from the Bell side of the family. Certainly her dad was bullheaded enough.
Greer washed the breakfast dishes by hand, as well as the ones left from their evening meal. It was a chore she didn’t mind. She’d had the movers leave a still-crated commercial-grade dishwasher in a cookhouse that needed repair. Once the dishes were dried and put away, she finished writing her list.
On the drive to town, Shelby was her usual chatterbug self. Greer had a habit of listening with half an ear so she could respond appropriately when necessary. Like now, as Shelby leaned forward and asked loudly, “Can we eat at the café Dr. Kristin told us about? Callie’s café.”
“Call her Kristin, honey, not doctor.”
“Why? You said we hafta call Noah Father Kelley.”
“Kristin Gallagher is a doctor’s assistant, not a licensed physician.” Glancing over her shoulder, Greer sighed. “Shelby, must you always question everything I say?”
The girl lunged back against the seat. “My old teacher said asking questions is good.”
“When it pertains to schoolwork, yes. Did you know that when I was your age, a parent’s word was considered law? My mom and dad’s stock answer was do it because I said so.”
“Well, your mom’s a teacher so I guess that’s why. Mama, what does my grandpa do?”
“He farms. He used to grow squash. And kept sheep that he sheared for wool. Pigs, which he marketed twice a year. He raised chickens he sold as fryers, but he also maintained a flock of hens strictly for laying eggs.”
“No horses or cows?”
“I had one saddle horse. Dad didn’t raise beef. We didn’t have the grazing land. It wouldn’t have been worthwhile when he could raise enough sheep to make it pay.”
“Is that why we’re getting sheep? You wanna be like Grandpa?”
Greer paused. “That’s not why I decided on sheep. Cal Sanderson said they’d be easier to raise than cattle. And sheep will present our guests with a different aspect of Western life. Plus we’ll shear them and sell the wool. If everything works out the way I hope, maybe later I can lease land and get a few head of cattle. Okay, Q and A time is over. Our first stop is the hardware store.”
“You never said if we could eat lunch at the café, Mama.”
“Let’s see what time I finish all our errands. After the hardware store, I want to talk with the sheriff.”
“Gosh, why? I don’t want to talk to any old sheriff. They shoot people.”
“Shelby, where do you get these wild notions?”
“From Luke and Lindsay. And from TV.”
“I should’ve known,” Greer muttered, thinking she’d placed too much trust in Cal and Marisa’s kids being good role models for Shelby. “Here in Homestead, honey, our sheriff is a good guy.”
Greer dug out her list and shepherded Shelby