The Green Lace Corset, стр. 45

31

A week later, the skies had cleared to a cerulean blue and the temperature had warmed. Ducks swam in the thawed pond. The horses grazed in the grass that seemed to have sprung up overnight.

Hope flowered in Sally Sue’s chest as a horseman appeared on the horizon above the ranch. God, please let this be the answer to my prayers.

She glanced at the barn. Cliff was in there, sanding away on the last of the floor slats. She shielded her eyes from the sun and waved as the lofty horseman loped on his cream-colored palomino down the pasture toward her. He raised a leather-gloved hand and drew near her, and she recognized the town sheriff.

She couldn’t contain her exhilaration and shouted, “I’m ever so happy to—”

“Hold it right there.” Cliff dashed out of the barn with his rifle pointed at the sheriff.

The sheriff pulled out his pistol, raised it at Cliff, and dragged out his words. “Put your gun down, son. I’m Sheriff Mack. Come out here to welcome you to my territory.”

Sally Sue tried not to grin at Cliff.

He lowered his rifle and put on that whopping smile of his. “Sheriff. Good of you to come all this way.”

“Settling in well?” the sheriff asked, and replaced his gun in his holster.

“Yes, sir.” Cliff paused.

“Come on in.” Sally Sue motioned toward the door.

Cliff lost his smile and glared at Sally Sue. “Now, darling, I’m sure the sheriff’s too busy.”

“Plenty of time.” Mack set his tree trunk of a body on the ground. He was at least two heads taller than Cliff, and broader also. “Brought you supplies you might be needing.” He handed Cliff a gunnysack.

“That’s kind of you, Sheriff.” She hoped he’d brought milk. With the kitten, they’d run out, and she had resorted to feeding Socks sugar water instead.

Mack removed the palomino’s tooled saddle, hung it over the round pen’s railing, and slapped the horse’s flank. “Okay, Dusty.” Dusty skidded off toward the pond.

As they stepped inside, Sally Sue asked, “Would you care for tea?”

“I’m sure he can’t stay long.” Cliff kept his voice light, set the gunnysack on the table, and rested his rifle in his arms.

“I could visit for a spell after riding all this way.” Sheriff Mack removed his hat and coat and put them on hooks by the door. “I brought you some of my missus’s muffins.” He sat at the kitchen table, ran his hands through his tawny-colored hair, opened the gunnysack, and pulled out a tin. Cliff sat too, laid his rifle on the table, and rested his hand on it. With the other, he selected a muffin from the tin Mack offered.

Mack began to take out other items one at a time. “Here’s some of her blackberry preserves. Jalapeños—she chops them up real small and adds them to sauce. Butter, milk . . .” He grinned at Cliff and pulled out a jug. “And rum.”

She eyed it. Just what we needed, more liquor.

“You are ever so thoughtful.” Sally Sue put the kettle on and busied herself with the cups. She picked up the tin and placed the muffins on a plate from the shelf, glad for the fancy blue-and-white dishes to use with their guest.

“Have another?” she offered Sheriff Mack. How was she going to get a message to him?

He picked one up, took a bite, and said, “Yes, you got some prime land here.”

“I plan to do some planting.” Cliff tapped a rhythm on his rifle. Was he fixing to pick it up and shoot the sheriff, and maybe her too?

“Farm if you like, but I recommend cattle to make your fortune. Sheep can be profitable also.”

Cliff grimaced. “I’ve heard they get covered in worms and insects.”

“You dip ’em in creosote to kill the vermin.”

Sally Sue didn’t like the sound of that. She gathered up Socks, sleeping in a ball on the carpet, and a rag and handed them to Cliff. He put Socks on his lap, opened the milk bottle, and fed her.

Mack leaned over and petted Socks. Sally Sue wandered to the trunk, lifted the lid, and reached for the letters.

Cliff turned. “Honey pie, come on over and set with us.” He shook his head at the sheriff. “A woman’s work is never done.”

She closed the lid and sat at the table.

Mack looked around, and then at Sally Sue. “I like how you’ve cleaned up the place.”

“Thank you, sir.” She tilted her head toward the mantel, the array of artifacts there. “Where did those come from? Did savages bring gifts to the Ivrys?”

“Hell, no. Sorry for my cursin’, ma’am. Injuns probably traded those things for food. That doll there’s a Hopi kachina; the basket’s Navajo. Both tribes live out in the nearby desert.”

“What happened to the Ivrys?” she asked.

“About six months ago, they just up and left.” He shrugged. “Coulda been the rough weather, a family matter, a yearning for gold farther west, or maybe even those damn Apaches. No one knows for sure.” He exchanged glances with Cliff.

The kettle whistled. Sally Sue jumped up, put a hand on her beating chest, and made the tea. She set the pot and cups around the table and sat back down.

Cliff grinned. “I’ve told her not to stray far. Injuns, wolves, and bandits prowl hereabout.”

Mack eyed Cliff’s rifle. “Don’t worry, little lady. Seems you’re well protected. Careful, though. I hate to scare you, but there might even be a murdering bank robber hiding out somewhere nearby.” He lit a long cigar, handed one to Cliff, and said, “I’m putting together a posse. Wanna join?”

Cliff didn’t even flinch. “Don’t think I should. We’re still trying to settle in here. I’m cleaning up the barn, putting in these wood floors, and plan to build a front porch and another room on the cabin.”

Sally Sue wondered if he really meant all that. She poured the tea from the