He shook his head, cursing his shoulder. Like a nagging toothache, the pain was distracting him to the point of madness. The doctor said to rest it and let it heal, but how long would that take? It had been a month since he’d tangled with Arthur Covey and injured his shoulder. He clenched his hand around the small jar of balm, hoping it would work as well as Faith and Adam claimed. Because if it didn’t, his career was in trouble.
Maybe he should stop by the greenhouse again to check on the gas line. His feet slowed, but his brain ordered him to quit making excuses and keep walking. Radford and Evelyn were expecting him and his mother for supper. And he had chores waiting after that.
Lowering his tense shoulders, he crossed the bridge over Canadaway Creek, then lengthened his stride and headed out on Liberty Street.
In less than five minutes, he approached their house and livery, a place that felt like home to him. Duke lived with his mother in her house just beyond the apple orchard, but they both spent many evenings at Radford and Evelyn’s house, carrying on a tradition that began with Evelyn’s and Duke’s parents.
His mother and father had been close friends with Evelyn’s parents, William and Mary Tucker, and the four of them raised their children as one family. Duke and his brothers and Evelyn had tromped from their house to hers, exploring every tree, creek, and stone in between. When Evelyn’s mother died, Duke’s mother opened her loving arms to the girl. Evelyn’s father treated Duke and his brothers like his own sons. William and Radford even went through the war together, and came home with a deeper bond between them, both men forever changed from their experience. Evelyn had planned to marry Duke’s brother Kyle, but her heart chose Radford. That upheaval had shaken the foundation of their family, but they’d held on.
Evelyn’s parents, and his own beloved father, were now buried in a shared family plot behind Evelyn’s home. Those left behind had grown closer despite all the heartache.
Duke and his brothers owned their father’s sawmill now, each of them contributing what they could to keep the business healthy. Kyle and Boyd ran the mill full time. Radford owned the livery, but dedicated two days a week to their sawmill business. When Duke wasn’t busy with his duties as sheriff, he gladly spent his time working with his brothers. He loved the smell of pine and sawdust, and the hard, honest work, but he was relieved he didn’t have to go there this evening. He wanted to sit on Radford and Evelyn’s porch, drink a glass of cold tea, and give his throbbing shoulder a chance to settle down.
The livery sat back from the road with a small paddock behind it where Evelyn trained her horses. A sprawling oak stood in the front yard and shaded the deep porch on their two-story home. A long fieldstone fence girded their property, and was a favorite hiding place for their sons William and Joshua.
As Duke had come to expect, his nephews popped up from behind the fence like well-trained soldiers, aiming their sticks and shooting at him a dozen times before he could grab for his carefully unloaded revolver. He would never draw it from his holster, of course. Not ever. Not even knowing he’d meticulously cleared the cartridges from the chamber.
With a loud groan, he clutched his chest and fell to his knees.
The boys let out a victory whoop. Seven-year-old William planted his hands on the fence and vaulted over, followed by four-year-old Joshua, whose chubby, little boy body forced him to claw his way over the stones.
Duke fell on his good side, let the jar roll away from him, then put his hand over his revolver and turned so the boys couldn’t pounce on his sore shoulder.
William ran toward him, then stretched out his skinny frame and flew through the air like a gangly bird. He landed hard on Duke’s chest, wrenching the shoulder in spite of Duke’s effort to protect it. Gads, that hurt! Joshua barreled across the spring grass and tumbled onto Duke’s head. The two boys grunted and tussled and tugged until Duke surrendered.
They rolled off, then ordered him to get up and get moving. He scooped up his jar of balm then marched to their prison, which was behind the railings of the front porch. Their eyes flashed with excitement, and it struck him that jail was just a game for his nephews, as it had been for Duke and his brothers at that tender age. But it wasn’t a game for a boy like Adam Dearborn. The boy’s tense, drawn face when he’d seen the barred cell earlier said he knew jail was a looming possibility for his ultimate future.
But not if Duke could prevent it. Adam was an intelligent boy in need of a firm guiding hand.
Radford was lounging in a chair with his feet propped on the handrail, grinning like a happy, satisfied man. “It’s nice to see the rascals clobbering someone else for a change,” he said.
Duke leaned his hips against the handrail and rubbed his shoulder. “Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you invite me over.”
Radford’s grin deepened. “Nonsense. I like having my brothers around. That’s why I’m inviting Boyd and Claire to supper tomorrow and asking Kyle and Amelia to come by the night after.”
Duke’s snort drew a laugh from their mother, who was sitting on the porch holding Radford’s seven-month-old daughter Hannah, a dark-haired beauty who was drooling and chewing on her fingers.
“Uncle Duke, come wrestle,” Joshua said, tugging on Duke’s leg.
“Let him be, son.” Radford hauled Joshua onto his lap and tickled him into a wild giggle. “You boys go wash your hands. We’ll be eating soon.”
Joshua squirmed free and charged into the house, bumping into his mother’s legs and nearly upsetting the tray in her hands. Evelyn stood with the door open and looked straight at Duke.
He lifted his hands. “I’m not responsible for Joshua’s mad dash into the house.”
“What mad dash?” Evelyn carried her tray of drinks on to the porch. “If the boys aren’t running, they’re sleeping.”
“Or yelling and fighting,” Rebecca said, carrying a heaping platter of fried chicken and plump biscuits outside.
“You have no right to talk about bad behavior, young lady, after buying Mrs. Brown’s last licorice stick and leaving me without a single one,” Duke said.
Rebecca set the platter on a low table in the center of a group of chairs. “The early bird gets the licorice.” She leaned over and gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.
“And the pretty girl gets the new boy in town.” He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I see you’re not saving that pretty smile for your daddy and your uncles anymore.”
Her cheeks flamed, and she shot an embarrassed look at her father.
Instead of smiling, Radford wore a puzzled look, as if Rebecca’s shiny black hair had just turned orange.
