The Green Lace Corset, стр. 46

“Mighty handy of you.” Mack blew on his tea, sniffed it, and eyed the jug he’d brought. “Got anything stronger?”

Cliff grasped the jug and poured some rum into Mack’s teacup and his own. He tilted it toward Sally Sue, but she shook her head.

“I understand.” Mack handed Cliff the wanted poster. “Keep an eye out. They say he’s mighty crafty. Big hat, beady eyes, maybe a beard too. It’s hard to tell with that bandanna over his mouth.”

Cliff surreptitiously put his hand on the kerchief on his neck.

Standing behind him, Sally Sue tried to catch Mack’s eyes, tilted her head toward Cliff and down at the poster. Cliff turned around and shot her a dagger look.

“Yes. He looks terrifying. I hope never to meet him.” She wanted to scream, It’s him!, hide behind the sheriff, and ask for his protection, but with Cliff’s rifle so nearby, she didn’t dare. Instead, she sat down and picked up her cup, but her hands were shaking, so she put it back down.

Cliff stood and kept his tone light. “You must be pretty busy. We don’t mean to keep you.”

“It’s fine.” Mack ate another muffin from the plate. “Yes, you’ll like Arizona. Spring’s here, summer weather is delightful, and come fall the aspen leaves change color.” He drank from his cup.

“Lots of nearby natural sights too. Up north of here, there’s a canyon deeper and wider than anyone has ever seen. East of here, giant buttes and bluffs decorate the desert. If you want to go further over into New Mexico, there’s the strangest darn church. Señors and señoritas walk on their knees for miles to get to it. They scrape dirt that’s supposed to have healing powers from a hole in the ground to get over what ails them.”

“You don’t say,” Cliff said.

Sally Sue thought it all sounded far-fetched but fascinating.

Cigar smoke filled the cabin, more rum got poured, and the men chatted. Cliff acted as if Mack was his new best friend. Sally Sue took Socks from Cliff and moved to the rocker. The kitten opened her blue eyes and blinked at Sally Sue. How was she going to get Mack alone and tell him who Cliff really was?

She leaned over and picked up her tatting, now a tangled heap.

“Darn Socks!” Sally Sue scolded.

Cliff looked at her and chuckled. “That’s a knee-slapper. Darn Socks!”

At first, she didn’t get the inadvertent joke, but then she started laughing also.

Cliff explained the hilarity to Mack, and he joined in.

“I know you have big plans, but it’s hard to get started out here. If you need to make money, there’s a ranch farther up the mountain that might need some help,” Mack said.

“I’ll be just fine.”

“May I use your privy?” Mack stood.

This was her chance. She hopped up. “I’ll show you.”

“No need, darling. I’ll do it.” Cliff stood and threw a friendly arm around Mack’s shoulder. “I want to show him the barn, anyway.”

The men staggered outside. She reached for Cliff’s gun, still sitting on the table, but he hurried back inside and grabbed it first.

“Forgot my rifle, honey. Don’t know what dangers might be about.” He chuckled and left.

“Darn it to hell.” She got the letters from the trunk, slid them into her pocket, put the empty muffin tin in the washbasin, and scrubbed it harshly.

The men soon returned and recommenced drinking and smoking. When the jug was empty and the sun faded over the horizon, Mack finally rode off, taking with him all her hopes for a rescue.

Cliff had passed out on the table. Angry at herself for not having the courage to confront him in front of Mack or at least get the letter to the sheriff, she stomped outside and into the meadow. The silver crescent moon, an empty cradle suspended in the dark sky, glittered above. She longed to fly up to it, curl up, and stay there, hidden from Cliff’s view, rocking back and forth for comfort, her shawl a blanket.

Cliff’s snoring woke her. Sally Sue must have dozed off in the rocker. She shook her shoulders. Cigar stench permeated the cabin, and she couldn’t abide it.

Crickets chirped in cadence with her heartbeat as she stepped outside. Ripe loam and horse scent filled her senses. Oaks shifted in the light breeze, and she pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. Her body, just a small dot in the universe, rested under the inky sky filled with shimmering stars. The canopy’s grandness soothed her soul, and she began to relax.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Cliff yelled, and ambled toward her. “Come on back inside.”

“I’m getting air is all.”

Far off, a howl filled the air and a shiver went up her spine. Mother of God, here it was the “I told you so.”

“Listen to that. Even Mack said it’s dangerous to be out here alone.”

Another wail, this time louder and more insistent. Sally Sue tried not to shudder noticeably. “What is it?” she asked.

He held up a finger for her to be quiet as another sound echoed.

“A wolf, or maybe an Injun pretending to be a wolf. It’s hard to tell.”

Cliff’s eyes shone in the darkness as a bark from another direction answered the others. “Probably a coyote. They shift their sounds to mimic the prey they plan to capture. It might have been a feral cat, a bobcat, or even a fight to the death with a cougar. I’ve heard it called natural selection or survival of the fittest.”

This also referred to humans, including her. Sally Sue needed to learn to protect herself. Cliff led her back to the house and trudged out to the barn. She slipped on her nightgown, climbed into bed, and fell asleep, but then a yip and a howl from outside woke her. Her heart beating rapidly, she sat up straight and stared into the darkness.

Back in the meadow, her nightdress wafted around in the cool zephyr. Smoky fog had rolled in, so dense