The Green Lace Corset, стр. 70
Cliff steered the team behind the church, where horses were lined up. He climbed down, proffered his hand to Elvira, and helped her out of the cart.
“Thank you kindly. After service, come on over and say howdy to the sheriff.”
“Sure thing.” Cliff saluted her and watched her hobble away. “She’s a weird bird.”
“Yep.” Sally Sue hopped out of the buckboard, ignoring the hand he held out to her.
He tilted his head at the church. “Go on in. I’ll wait for you.”
On the church steps, she tried unsuccessfully to brush the dirt off her suit. As she entered, a portly, ginger-haired pastor led the congregation in reciting the Lord’s Prayer. The McMillans and their son Isaiah sat in a front pew with Mr. Ivry from the hotel. Men in clean shirts with combed hair and hats in hand were spread throughout the congregation. Instead of their colorful getups, the saloon girls, sitting in a row, wore modest Sunday best in pastels, with beribboned bonnets to match.
Sally Sue stepped into an empty pew in the back row, opened a hymnal, and joined in to sing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”
Afterwards, the congregation sat and the pastor began to read the scripture from Matthew. “‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’”
Sally Sue’s hands flew to her chest. Had he chosen this passage just for her?
He smoothed down the edges of his black shawl over his white robe and began his sermon. “Flagstaff ruffians, we’ve been overrun by sinners.” As he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Those among you who sin will be liable to the hellfires of damnation.” The pastor’s gaze scanned the congregation and landed on her. A chill went up her spine.
During the sacraments, as the pastor held up a cup and said, “This is the blood . . .,” she closed her eyes and could see the blood seeping through that hat and the man she’d killed, his dead eyes staring at her, then the body of the bank guard Cliff had murdered. Was she no better than Cliff? No, he’d done something against the law, she’d just been trying to protect herself and the others. Maybe there was no difference. He was trying to protect himself too.
A commotion in a front pew broke her reverie. Isaiah’s head popped up, and he made a run for it down the aisle. As he passed, she seized him by the hand, pulled him next to her, and held him close.
“Hello, pitty.”
She put a finger to her lips and whispered, “Hello, Isaiah. Shh.”
Danica stepped into the aisle. Sally Sue waved that she had him, and Danica sat back down.
Isaiah pointed to her bonnet. Sally Sue removed it and set it on his lap, and he fiddled with the flowers.
At the end of the service, the pastor walked solemnly down the aisle and the congregation followed.
Sally Sue led Isaiah out of the pew and out the door. Cliff was nowhere to be seen.
The pastor shook her hand. “Welcome. New in town?”
She considered telling him she was in trouble, but even though she hadn’t seen him, she sensed Cliff watching nearby.
“There you are.” Mrs. McMillan, braided hair on her head, knelt and grabbed Isaiah’s elbow. “Naughty boy. Sorry if he’s been a bother.”
“Not at all. He’s a good boy.”
Mrs. McMillan laughed. “Usually.” She kissed him on the forehead and let him run off to his father, talking with a group of men nearby.
“It’s nice to see you. I’m glad you made it through the winter okay. We were worried about you folks.”
“We were very comfortable. Thank you.” Sally Sue swallowed the lie.
“Want to join us for supper?” Mrs. McMillan asked.
“Better not. My husband will be here soon to fetch me.” She looked up and down the street.
“Of course you’d both be welcome.”
“I’ll ask him.”
Did she dare go to the jailhouse and talk to Mack? She took a step that way, then heard a whistle from behind an ash tree and saw Cliff gesturing for her to come to him.
The horses trotted along as they rode home in silence toward the homestead. That was fine with her, because she didn’t feel much like talking. It had been one of the worst days of her life.
Just over the bridge, Cliff stopped the wagon. A midnight-blue canopy covered the ranch in the moonless night, and crickets chanted their evensong. An owl hooted, and its mate answered.
Cliff turned toward her with soft eyes. “Sally Sue, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
Captivated by his words, she forgot herself and let his hand touch her cheek. Her face grew warm, and for a moment, just a moment, she wished he’d kiss her. But then she pulled away. If he thought she’d ever let him kiss her, he had another thing coming.
When they arrived at the cabin, she ran to the privy and stayed there until she was sure he had fallen asleep. How could she even consider letting this bank-robbing kidnapper get so close? She realized again, for at least the hundredth time, that he could get close to her anytime he wanted. She resolved to do something drastic before he lost his patience or she lost her resolve.
48
In the morning, Sally Sue found a straw cowgirl’s hat at the foot of her bed. She scrambled into the nightgown she had tossed on the floor. Hat on her head, she looked in the mirror. The wide brim would keep the sun out of her eyes.
Her mind flew back to the previous day. So much had happened. Even though she’d shot a man, she didn’t look like a killer. That poor Elvira. Sally Sue had been in town, she’d been to church, she’d been told by Cliff he didn’t want to live without her. Sorry, buddy, but you’ll have to soon.
She smiled at him as