Read Online Bouquet for Iris by Diane T. Ashley - Free Book Online

raised one eyebrow. If the man disliked the tavern, why didn’t he stay home like the other “righteous citizens” of Daisy? Adam didn’t disturb their Sunday morning church services, so why should they come bother him at his chosen haunt?
    “If you’re looking for Nathan”—Adam gestured at the rowdy crowd—”he hasn’t graced us tonight.” Now that he thought of it, it was odd that Nathan was absent. He was usually present to watch Margaret sing, even though he didn’t drink or gamble.
    “Actually, I’m looking for you.” The elder Mr. Pierce shook his head at a barmaid headed his way. She shrugged and turned her smiling attention to another customer.
    “I’ll have the council’s transcription ready in a day or two,” Adam growled. His job as the town scribe was what paid for his evenings, but he was tired of everyone pushing him to finish his work. It wasn’t as though anything earthshaking had happened at the council meeting. It was always the same—the council discussed ways to attract more settlers, or they complained because the Indians were encroaching in some way on their rights. Ha! Those same men had no trouble trading at Ross’s Landing on the far side of the river, the settlement that had been founded by John Ross, the chieftain of the Cherokee Nation. He wished Ross would come home where he belonged instead of fighting the lost cause in Washington. Then they could spend their time protecting the people who lived here. And Adam wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of the pompous windbag standing next to him.
    “No, I need to hire your services.”
    What an odd development. Adam straightened the collar of his shirt in an attempt to appear more professional. “What’s the problem?”
    “Some thieving Indians have been stealing my livestock.”
    Disgust filled him. Adam should have known better than to hope for a real job, a chance to be an advocate. He slouched forward again. “Sounds like you need the sheriff more than an attorney. Or maybe a gunman to teach the rustlers to respect your property.”
    The mayor pulled out his watch and glanced at it before answering. “You misunderstand me, Mr. Stuart. I need someone to get a copy of that treaty from Washington. It’s time these Indians understood that this town is going to be run by white men.”
    “I can’t help you.” Adam tried to keep his voice neutral, but it was hard. He couldn’t abide the prejudice that had been unleashed since news of the treaty had leaked out. It might be true that the American government was going to remove the Indians from their rightful land and that some of the Cherokee had turned traitor to their own people and signed the treaty, but he didn’t have to support their efforts.
    “You mean you
won’t
help me.” The mayor spat at the floor, barely missing Adam’s foot.
    Anger burned white-hot in Adam’s chest. His fist clenched. He’d like nothing better than to plant it in the smug countenance of Richard Pierce. Then sanity returned. He was no Arthurian knight with a sacred quest. No, he had more in common with Don Quixote, the poor deluded man who tilted at windmills. Adam knew he was nothing but a broken shell of a man waiting for his life to end. “Whether I cannot or will not doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to find someone else.”
    “You’re a sorry excuse for a man, even by lawyers’ standards.” The man’s voice was soft and venomous. “I must have been crazy to think you’d like to earn a respectable salary. Do you think anyone else is going to hire you? Where do you think you’ll end up if you don’t take this job?”
    “I guess I’ll end up dead whether I work or not.” Adam hunched a shoulder. “The same as you.”
    Pierce huffed once or twice before leaving him alone.
    Adam concentrated on his glass. His head was beginning to ache, a sure sign that the past was trying to resurrect itself in his mind. He took another gulp and waited for his memory to