Kate nodded, amazed at the speed of the local gossip.
“That’s good. A pretty girl like you might make sure he moves back here. He’d give this town back its sense of class.” He cut his eyes at Sara. “Too bad about the house being taken away from the family.”
Kate drew in her breath. No house was “taken” from anyone.
“You didn’t hear?” Sara said. Jack still had his hand on her shoulder. “I’m planning to give the house back to him because he’s, you know, a Stewart and I’m just a Medlar. It will be my honor to do so.”
The sheriff looked like he wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not. “I have to go. I’m to give the toast tonight, so I can’t be late.” He took Kate’s hand and held it with both of his. “You’d do well to stick with a Stewart.” He gave a quick look at Jack, making it clear who she was to stay away from. “A connection with a Stewart might mean you could make something of yourself in this town.”
Kate gave a girlish little laugh. “In spite of the fact that I’m a Medlar?”
The sheriff smiled at that and, still holding her hand, looked at Sara. “You got a smart one here. Catches on fast. You could learn from her.” He released Kate’s hand and started for his car. “I’ll send the coroner—or somebody—first thing tomorrow. Have a good night.” He gave a contemptuous look at Jack, got into his car and started the engine.
When Sara made a movement, Jack dropped his crutches to the ground and grabbed her about the waist, her back to his front.
“Let me hit him,” Sara said. “Just one good right. Please. What made me come back to this town? It’s still high school here.”
Jack held her until the sheriff drove out of sight. “Why don’t you take some photos inside the house? There’s only about an hour’s worth of light left.”
Sara didn’t say anything and went into the house.
“Is she going to be okay?” Kate asked.
“Sure,” Jack said. “She just needs time alone to calm down. She’s had years of signing autographs and giving interviews, so it’s culture shock for her to come back here and be considered less than best. But to be fair to Lachlan, very few of those old-time bigots are left. Unfortunately, one of them happens to be the sheriff.”
He went through Sara’s backpack and withdrew a small camera. It was black with a silver top and it had dials and buttons on it.
“That looks like something James Bond would use.”
Jack grinned. “That’s what I thought when I first saw it. But it’s modern and it’s digital. I want to take some close-ups of those skulls.” He looked down at her muddy feet. “Mind helping me?”
“Not at all.”
“Not superstitiously scared?”
“Minds like the sheriff’s scare me more than bones.”
He nodded in agreement as he lowered himself into the big pit, then helped her down.
When they reached the roots, she watched him adjust the knobs and buttons. “I got the idea that you didn’t know how to work a camera.”
“Please don’t tell Sara that I know aperture from shutter speed.”
“She’ll be jealous?”
“Worse. She’ll put me to work. I’ll be made into her camera assistant and have to carry fifty-pound bags full of lenses. Last time she told me to shoot something, I left the lens cap on. I said I’d better just use my cell phone. That sends her into a ten-minute lecture.”
He picked up his crutches, handed her one, leaned on the other and began taking pictures. The light was fading fast.
Kate knew he was trying to put humor in the atmosphere after what the sheriff had said, but she wanted to know more. “It seems that you and I, the Wyatts and the Medlars, are the lowest in this town.”
Jack gave a smile, but it was forced and there was a muscle working in his jaw. “We are. I grew up with Henry Lowell as my stepfather, but that didn’t erase—”
“Your father? Alastair told me about him.” She could see that Jack didn’t like that and she tried to cover herself. “Alastair had nothing but good to say about you. Except that you were ugly.”
Jack didn’t smile. “I’m certainly not a blond Viking.”