Page 49 of Kissing the Sheriff
She turned her head away. What was she doing?! So what if he was reading? What did she care?
Cassie slowly looked toward the hotel again. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me I’m getting sweet on him.” She gulped. What a disaster that would be! But getting sweet on someone wasn’t the same as falling in love. She wouldn’t make that mistake, no sirree. She noted only one window with a light now. Whose room was it?
She rubbed her arms. “Stop this. You’re gonna drive yourself loco.” She left the bench and continued down the street, past the general store, the assayer’s office which had been vacant for years, then by Jean’s place. The undertaker’s was next to the livery stable and feed store. Beyond that the tiny road headed out of Apple Blossom to the main road. Another trail branched off just past the doctor’s house which led to Sarah Crawford’s, Letty’s place, and a few farms.
Cassie crossed the street and stood in front of the doctor’s residence. Would Agnes’ nephew be a good doctor, or just another person for Agnes to boss around? She walked to the next to the last house. It, too, was empty. The Johnsons left not long after the incident. They lost their son Caleb.
Next was the library, also empty. There were shelves but they had no books. Everything following that fateful day had come to a stop. She looked at the little building. It was brand new, and they were getting ready to order books and take donations from the townspeople. Pa was in charge of collecting the books people wanted to give …
She hung her head and walked back the way she’d come. She passed the hotel, the saloon, the bank and finally the tiny millinery and dressmaker’s shop. Mrs. Henderson, a widow, had also left town, to live with her sister in Bozeman.
Cassie turned right and headed up the little road to home. If she kept going, she would come to the lane leading to the cemetery. Should she talk to Pa? But what good would that do? It’s not like he could give her advice. Besides, with her luck she’d run into a bear or something.
She trudged up the porch steps and went inside. Pa’s chair beckoned, and she sat. Her little house felt different, and she wondered if it was because Conrad and Billy had been spending so much time there.
After a half hour, she went upstairs, pulled off her shoes and skirt, and crawled into bed. It was just as well she didn’t run into anyone, half dressed as she was, her hair a mess. Especially not Conrad.
She touched her loose braid, then pulled the covers up to her chin. What would it be like when Conrad and his brothers left? Would the town feel the same emptiness she sensed was creeping closer? They hadn’t even gone, but she already dreaded their leaving.
“What is wrong with me?” she said to the darkness. “Why do I feel this way?”
She took a deep breath and tried to think of other things. Fishing with Pa, buying a Christmas present for Ma at the general store right before she died. Funny how that came to mind. She closed her eyes, pushed all thoughts from her head, and did her best to fall asleep.
When sleep finally did come, it was fitful. By morning, it was as if she hadn’t slept at all. Nevertheless, she forced herself out of bed, went downstairs and got the stove going. After brewing some coffee she sat at the table and thought of making herself a couple of eggs. She was about to when there was a knock at the door.
Her heart leaped. “Conrad?” She went to the door and answered it.
“Morning,” he said brightly.
She swallowed and backed up. “It is you.”
He looked around then smiled. “I hope so. May I come in?”
She opened the door wide. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I wanted to speak to you about the paint before you left. I know Alma has the yellow I want – I checked yesterday. Are you positive that’s the coloryouwant?”
“Yes, why?”
“I thought of putting it in the dining room too. Along with some wallpaper like we discussed. But if I don’t get some soon, I’m afraid we won’t be able to order any.”
“In time?”
“Before we leave.”
Her heart sank. “Yes. That.”
He stepped inside. “Are you all right?”
She looked at him, noticed the breadth of his shoulders, the width of his chest. He was almost a head taller than her. “Fine,” she whispered.
He took a step closer. “Are you sure?”
She swore his voice could melt butter. “Yes.”
He sighed in relief. “Glad to hear it.” He looked around, as if he was trying not to look at her. “Yellow it is.”
She stepped back and forced a smile. Her heart was beating faster than normal and her tummy, instead of doing somersaults, was tight, as if warning her to turn tail and run. Maybe she should. This was a dangerous man as far as her heart was concerned. She could easily get more than a little sweet on him and wondered if that was what was happening. Oh dear, what if it was?
