Page 12 of The Formation of Us
“Yes, sir.” Adam squinted up at him. “We read every night after supper.”
“We?”
“Faith and I read to Cora.”
“Would your sister let me come by some evening and listen?”
“No, sir. Faith dislikes men.” And Adam didn’t want the sheriff around spying on him or upsetting Faith.
The sheriff raised his eyebrows. “That must have made her husband uncomfortable.”
Adam looked at his feet and called himself an empty-headed idiot. He wasn’t supposed to talk about Faith’s husband. His big mouth could ruin everything if he wasn’t careful.
“Something wrong, son?”
“No, sir. I was . . . I was thinking that Cora might tell you a story, but it’ll be so crazy you won’t understand it. The last story she told was about a flying snake named Lester who gave Cora a ride over a rainbow and turned them both into butterflies so they could live in my mother’s rosebush.” He glanced up to see if the sheriff had that squinty suspicious look on his face, hoping his story had smoothed over his mistake. The sheriff’s grin relieved him. “I told Faith that Cora must have eaten jimsonweed. It makes a person hallucinate.”
“You don’t ever eat those type of plants, do you?”
“No, sir,” Adam said between clenched teeth. He hated that everyone always thought the worst of him.
“Good.” The sheriff clapped his big hand on Adam’s shoulder and drew him to a stop in front of the barbershop on Water Street.
A man even taller than the sheriff stepped into the rutted street to meet them. “Where have you been hiding?” the man asked. “I’ve been by your office twice this morning.”
“I’ve been training my new deputy” The sheriff patted Adam’s shoulder.
Although he was joking, a thrill rushed through Adam. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to be a strong, respected lawman.
“This is Adam Dearborn,” the sheriff said. “Adam’s sister bought Colburn’s mill and is opening a greenhouse business. Adam, this is my oldest brother, Radford.”
The man was taller and leaner, his hair darker and his eyes lighter, but he and the sheriff looked like brothers. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grayson,” Adam said.
To his surprise, Mr. Grayson reached out and shook his hand. “You’re the youngest deputy I’ve ever met, Mr. Dearborn.”
Adam tried to smile, but it hurt too much, knowing a position like the sheriff’s was beyond his reach. He shook Mr. Grayson’s hand, then stepped away while the men talked.
Women blushed and smiled as they passed by, especially at the sheriff, but he and his brother just nodded in their friendly way and kept talking about timber.
Adam leaned against the warm red bricks of the two-story building, wondering how it felt to be greeted like that. The sheriff’s brother had been nice to him, but that was because Adam was with the sheriff. If he’d been alone, the man wouldn’t have noticed him at all. No one ever noticed a prostitute’s bastard. And for Adam, it had been safer to be unseen.
When the sheriff finished talking with his brother, Adam crossed Main Street with him, then walked a block down Temple Street, the one that cut between the parks. Adam was proud that he was remembering the street names and learning his way around his new hometown.
They entered a brick building with two square towers on the front, and he wondered if the sheriff locked criminals in the towers but didn’t dare ask. Inside they passed a small room with iron bars on the door. It looked dark and cold there, and Adam was suddenly glad the sheriff hadn’t locked him up.
At the next room, a note had been tacked to the door. The sheriff pulled it free and unlocked the door. A huge wooden desk squatted in the middle of the office, with papers scattered over its surface. The sheriff read the note, laid it on the mess on his desk, and plunked the jar of balm on top of it. “Looks like I’ve got a busy afternoon,” he said.
“What is all that stuff?” Adam asked.
“Arrest warrants. Complaints. Tax notices. Town meeting notes. Court papers.” The sheriff shrugged. “The usual.” Adam wrinkled his nose, and the sheriff laughed. “I couldn’t agree more. Give me a couple of bank robbers to chase any day.”
Adam gawked. “You chase bank robbers?”
The sheriff laughed. “Only twice.”
“Gosh.”
“I was teasing you, son. I dislike the paperwork for my job, but I don’t want any robberies of any kind in my county.”
