yourself all winter. There are two ladies who are willing to give you a home in exchange for housework. They’re nice ladies, and I’m sure you’d—”
“I got my own housework.”
“But surely you can’t mean to stay.”
Cally lost her patience. “Get on your horse and head on back to town now, Sheriff.”
He didn’t budge. “Your father asked me to look out for you.”
Cally considered that for the briefest of moments.“You sure that wasn’t a warning?” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning but was surprised to see Haywood do the same. She didn’t think she had ever seen him smile. It made him look…different. She realized she had let her arms relax and brought the shotgun to chest level again. Just because he looked…different, didn’t mean he was. She concentrated on glaring at him.
His smile faded, but he didn’t look particularly worried. “Miss DuBois, what are you going to do when winter comes?”
A touch of arrogance in his tone made her certain he had seen her drop her guard. She glared all the harder. “I’ll get by, I reckon.”
He looked toward her woodpile. “How are you going to chop enough wood to keep from freezing? Do you plan to wade through the snow to do your chores morning and night?”
Cally was a little concerned about the wood, but she had him on this last argument. “Do you really think Pa ever did the chores?”
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to realize she had him. “If you don’t freeze, you’ll starve. Even a grown woman wouldn’t try to make it by herself out here, and you’re a child.”
“I’m what?” Cally really considered swinging the shotgun to her shoulder. A child?
Haywood took his own sweet time deciding what to do. Was he wondering if she would really shoot him? She hoped he didn’t push her that far; Pa’s old shotgun hadn’t been reliable in years. When she saw his stance relax, she hoped she had won—at least for now.
“You know where to find me if you need me,” he said.
“I won’t need you.” Her voice, she noted with satisfaction, was as cold as ever.
Haywood rubbed Royal’s ears, and the traitor leaned into his leg. “I’ll check on you from time to time,” he said, donning his hat before swinging into the saddle.
He turned the sorrel toward town, and Cally hollered after him, “I’ll keep the shotgun handy!”
Andrew had the nerve to turn and wave at her to let her know he had heard—and didn’t care.
She glared at the horse and rider until they disappeared, then at the sack in her yard. She knew it contained all the weapons he had taken away from her. She was glad to have them back. She really was. She just didn’t want to look at them right now.
She took a deep breath and stomped across the yard, grabbed up the sack and stomped back to her house. She deposited the sack on the table, then turned and put the shotgun in its place.
She would dig her potatoes today. She would dig them all and take them to her root cellar. She marched to the barn to get the spade. “I’ll boil a potato for dinner,” she told the dog. “There’s nothing better than fresh dug potatoes. I might even boil two. Too bad you don’t like potatoes. Seems like you should since you like apples.”
She knew she was babbling and to a dog even, but it was either that or think about that insufferable sheriff. “I’ll check on you from time to time,” she mocked.
Royal twitched his ears at the change in her tone.
“Meddling sheriff,” she muttered, shoving the barn door open with more force than necessary. “Found me a job, did he? Like I have time for a job!”
She grabbed up the spade and left the barn. “Why, I’ve got so much to do here, I hardly know where to start.”
She had stomped half the way back to her garden when she glanced down at the spade and stopped in her tracks. She stared at a small clump of dried mud that clung to the blade. Haywood had cleaned the spade and shovel before he brought them back to the
“I got my own housework.”
“But surely you can’t mean to stay.”
Cally lost her patience. “Get on your horse and head on back to town now, Sheriff.”
He didn’t budge. “Your father asked me to look out for you.”
Cally considered that for the briefest of moments.“You sure that wasn’t a warning?” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning but was surprised to see Haywood do the same. She didn’t think she had ever seen him smile. It made him look…different. She realized she had let her arms relax and brought the shotgun to chest level again. Just because he looked…different, didn’t mean he was. She concentrated on glaring at him.
His smile faded, but he didn’t look particularly worried. “Miss DuBois, what are you going to do when winter comes?”
A touch of arrogance in his tone made her certain he had seen her drop her guard. She glared all the harder. “I’ll get by, I reckon.”
He looked toward her woodpile. “How are you going to chop enough wood to keep from freezing? Do you plan to wade through the snow to do your chores morning and night?”
Cally was a little concerned about the wood, but she had him on this last argument. “Do you really think Pa ever did the chores?”
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to realize she had him. “If you don’t freeze, you’ll starve. Even a grown woman wouldn’t try to make it by herself out here, and you’re a child.”
“I’m what?” Cally really considered swinging the shotgun to her shoulder. A child?
Haywood took his own sweet time deciding what to do. Was he wondering if she would really shoot him? She hoped he didn’t push her that far; Pa’s old shotgun hadn’t been reliable in years. When she saw his stance relax, she hoped she had won—at least for now.
“You know where to find me if you need me,” he said.
“I won’t need you.” Her voice, she noted with satisfaction, was as cold as ever.
Haywood rubbed Royal’s ears, and the traitor leaned into his leg. “I’ll check on you from time to time,” he said, donning his hat before swinging into the saddle.
He turned the sorrel toward town, and Cally hollered after him, “I’ll keep the shotgun handy!”
Andrew had the nerve to turn and wave at her to let her know he had heard—and didn’t care.
She glared at the horse and rider until they disappeared, then at the sack in her yard. She knew it contained all the weapons he had taken away from her. She was glad to have them back. She really was. She just didn’t want to look at them right now.
She took a deep breath and stomped across the yard, grabbed up the sack and stomped back to her house. She deposited the sack on the table, then turned and put the shotgun in its place.
She would dig her potatoes today. She would dig them all and take them to her root cellar. She marched to the barn to get the spade. “I’ll boil a potato for dinner,” she told the dog. “There’s nothing better than fresh dug potatoes. I might even boil two. Too bad you don’t like potatoes. Seems like you should since you like apples.”
She knew she was babbling and to a dog even, but it was either that or think about that insufferable sheriff. “I’ll check on you from time to time,” she mocked.
Royal twitched his ears at the change in her tone.
“Meddling sheriff,” she muttered, shoving the barn door open with more force than necessary. “Found me a job, did he? Like I have time for a job!”
She grabbed up the spade and left the barn. “Why, I’ve got so much to do here, I hardly know where to start.”
She had stomped half the way back to her garden when she glanced down at the spade and stopped in her tracks. She stared at a small clump of dried mud that clung to the blade. Haywood had cleaned the spade and shovel before he brought them back to the
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