The Green Lace Corset, стр. 13

One of the boys finally yelled, “I’ll have a peppermint.” He paused. “Please.”

“Please. I want a licorice,” his brother said.

The woman behind the counter handed them each their candy with a smile, and their mother gave her two cents.

“Thank you, Mrs. McMillan!” the boys yelled, as they stuck the candy in their mouths and ran out the door behind their mother.

Cliff and Sally Sue stepped up to the counter.

“Can I help you?” Mrs. McMillan looked at Cliff.

He glanced at the WANTED poster displayed on the wall behind the counter and gave the woman a big, phony smile. “Sure can. First off, we’d like some of that cheese and crackers you’ve got there.”

“Certainly, sir.” Mrs. McMillan sliced a hunk of cheese for each of them from the wheel on the counter and handed the pieces to them on napkins. “Help yourself to the crackers.”

Even though she was starving, Sally Sue nibbled slowly on the food.

“What else, sir?” Mrs. McMillan asked.

“I need some articles for myself and my little lady.”

“I’m not your—”

He situated his hand on Sally Sue’s shoulder. “She’s spunky as all get-out. Small as an acorn but mighty as an oak.”

She tried to tug away, but he held tight as he gave the woman a slip of paper from his coat pocket.

Sally Sue tried to read the list. She couldn’t make out the words but could tell the letters were precise.

“We’ve got plenty of goods to choose from. New shipments arrived from Prescott just yesterday, and another on this morning’s train.” The woman set the list on the counter, put on her pince-nez, and studied it.

“Darrel,” she hollered. “Darrel McMillan!”

From the back of the store, a bald man with a beard crawled down off a ladder and strode toward them. “Howdy.”

She handed him the list.

“New in town?” Darrel asked Cliff.

“Yes, sir.” He shook the man’s hand; arm garters bound back the sleeves of his white shirt.

“I’m Clifford Canyon, and this is my missus, Sally Sue. You must be Darrel McMillan.”

“Yes’m, and this is my wife, Danica.”

Danica tipped her head.

Darrel read the list. He looked at Sally Sue’s feet. “We’ll get you fixed up right away. Take a seat.”

She sat in a chair beside the stove. The heat sure felt good. Cliff wandered over, perused the guns and ammunition nearby, chose a few items, and put them on the counter.

Darrel ran his hand along a shelf, grabbed a pair of boots, and handed them to his wife. “Give these a try.” He took the list and walked to the back of the shop.

Sally Sue slipped off her thin shoes, embarrassed by their filth and her dirty stockinged feet.

Danica helped her get the boots on and tied them for her. “Stand, please.” She pressed her finger in front of the toes. “Perfect fit. Walk a bit.”

Sally Sue clomped along the wooden floor. Ugh. They looked like something a forty-niner would wear. She’d never get away with something so ugly at home.

“They might feel tight now, but the leather will soon give way.” Danica picked up Sally Sue’s filthy shoes and looked at Cliff.

“Throw them away.” Cliff nodded and gave her a crooked smile.

Sally Sue put her hand on her chest. Her beautiful favorite shoes.

Danica looked at her sympathetically. “They must have been really pretty before they got all muddy.”

I want to keep them, Sally Sue wanted to yell, but it was no use. The celery-green peau de soie would never come clean anyway.

“Mrs. McMillan, would you help her pick material for a new frock?” Cliff asked.

Danica extended an arm to Sally Sue. “Certainly. Right this way, Mrs. Canyon.”

Mrs. Canyon—for goodness’ sake. Sally Sue clomped over to the fabric bolts. The boots might be clunky, but they were comfortable to walk in and would keep her feet dry. In her fancy suit, she must appear ridiculous.

Darrel continued to collect and pile more items on the list—coffee, sugar, flour, oatmeal, dried beans—on the counter, filling in a ledger as he worked. Cliff placed a packet of tobacco beside the other supplies.

“You’re not from around these parts, are you?” Danica asked.

“No, Missouri.” Sally Sue wanted to say more, but Cliff peered at her as he leaned on the counter.

“I think that’s everything on the list. Is there anything else?” Darrel asked.

“I’m in need of a quiet place for us to settle down for a while. Might do a little farming. Know of any land I can procure?”

“Yes, sir. I certainly do. There’s a homestead out yonder, way past the lumberyard, at the base of the peaks.”

“Do you mean the Ivrys’ place?” Danica piped up. “They’re lookin’ to sell?”

“No.” He paused and exchanged glances with Cliff. “They’ve up and left.”

“Where’d they go?” Sally Sue asked.

“No one knows for certain.” Darrel shrugged.

She had a feeling he wasn’t telling the truth.

Danica said, “It’s rough living out there. Sometimes folks just up and leave.”

“Need anything else, Mr. Canyon?”

“Cliff. Call me Cliff. Which livery do you suggest for a wagon and horses?”

“Might need to pick them up out of town, but Rutledges would be best.”

“Do you want to go with me to make arrangements?”

“Sure. And I’ll draw you a map on how to get to the Ivrys’ place. There’s probably tack in the barn and hay left in the loft.”

“Be right back.” Cliff glanced at Sally Sue, patted his hip, and walked out the door.

“This would be lovely on you.” Danica held up a bolt of dusty green.

This was Sally Sue’s chance to get help. “Danica, I’m—”

Cliff stuck his head back in the door. “Pick out anything you want, sweetheart.”

Sally Sue sat in the chair by the fire. Who did he think he was, calling her “sweetheart”? Was he trying to trick her? She’d better wait until he was down the road before asking for help.

“What about this green?” Danica wiggled the bolt in front of Sally Sue.

It had a washed-out look to it. To bide her time, she might as well look at the material. Sally Sue walked over to the shelf and scanned the other fabrics. Her eyes