Page 4 of Kissing the Sheriff
He swallowed. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“No, sir.” She clasped her hands before her and gave him the most serious look he’d seen on her face so far.
“What … might cause her to pull the trigger?”
Alma shrugged. “Just about anything she doesn’t like.”
He sighed. “You’re not very reassuring, did you know that?”
“You’re not the first person to say that.”
He turned around. “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered. When he reached the bins of nails, hinges, and screws, he picked what he wanted and brought them to the counter.
“So,” Alma said as she began to tally up the total. “Letty seems happy.”
“Indeed.” He glanced around and wished she’d stop talking. It was the one drawback of coming into the store.
“So does your brother. Too bad about the rest.”
That got his attention. “What did you say?”
“Your other brothers.” She showed him the total.
Conrad looked at the amount and put some money on the counter. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Oliver and Wallis don’t seem happy like Sterling.”
“That’s because they have yet to taste the sweet nectar of love.” He leaned against the counter. “I say, Irving’s the one with the sour face these days.”
“Oh, I agree.” She put the hinges and screws in a brown paper sack. “He looks awful.”
Conrad smiled. “Yes, poor chap.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s Irving.” Conrad took the sack and tipped his hat. “Good day.” He headed for the door.
“Phileas is happy.”
Conrad stopped and smiled back at her. “That’s because he gets to drive all of us crazy.” He went out the door.
Once outside he sighed and headed for the hotel. He’d drop off his bucket of tools (he was shocked Alma didn’t ask about them) then go speak to Woodrow Atkins about the lumber he’d need. If it wasn’t too much, he could carry it back to Cassie’s. The feed store/livery stable might also have some. Woodrow often sold his lumber out of there so folks wouldn’t have to make the trek to his mill.
He dropped his sack and bucket off in his room, then headed for the livery. He was surprised he didn’t see Phileas anywhere, but he and Dora Jones could have been in the kitchen. He whistled as he walked and nodded at passersby. The townsfolk of Apple Blossom were beginning to grow accustomed to him and his brothers and were more welcoming.
Especially after yesterday’s church service.Thatwas interesting in itself. Rev. Arnold was at least ninety if he was a day and kept falling asleep during the service. Captain Merriweather Stanley had to wake him several times. He noticed the old chap sat on a stool while he preached – no doubt due to his age – and thought the captain would have to jump to the reverend’s rescue several times to keep him from tumbling to the floor. Why didn’t the man retire?
He pondered the question all the way to the livery. When he entered, he smiled at Etta Whitehead the blacksmith. “Hello. Might I inquire about some lumber? I need some porch boards.”
Etta stopped what she was doing and wiped her gloved hands on her leather apron. “Sure do. Mr. Atkins knew you’d be working on the sheriff’s house and cut some Saturday. He delivered the load this morning. Will your other brother be needing any?”
“That depends on which brother.” Conrad examined his surroundings as well as the delicate dark-haired blue-eyed lady who nonetheless handled the forge. “Phileas, perhaps? He’s helping Dora.”
“Yes, he’s the one. You’re done with Letty’s place, aren’t you?”
“For the most part. Sterling’s repairing some fencing but the house is done.” He smiled, tried to picture her in a ball gown and couldn’t manage it.
“Lumber’s in the feed store. Follow me.” She went through a side door, past stacked bales of hay, sacks of feed, and finally reached a pile of fresh-cut lumber in various sizes. “Here you are. Do you need to borrow a wagon?”
