HT02 - Sing: A Novel of Colorado by Lisa T. Bergren

don’t want you to fret at all about Reid Bannock. I saw to it when he was released that it was a part of the orders: If the man dares to set foot in my county, I’ll string him up myself.”
    “When he was released?” Odessa repeated, considering his words for a moment. Reid Bannock. Free . “It’s a big county, Sheriff.” And Reid thought they knew the way in to Sam’s old mine—
    “Yes, but there’s little that goes on in these parts that I don’t know about. Take, for instance, your visitor.”
    “Mr. Rollins?” Odessa asked distractedly. Who cared that Harold was here? Reid Bannock might soon be upon them! She lifted a hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling woozy.
    He nodded. “That’s the rancher driving horses north?”
    “Yes.”
    “There are some rumors, Mrs. McAllan. Rumors of strangles in the herd.”
    She let out a humorless laugh. “Wish you had heard those rumors several days ago, Sheriff, and come to tell us before he arrived.”
    “I should’ve known better,” Bryce said, from over her shoulder. “You’d think I was green in the saddle.”
    Sheriff Olsbo looked up in surprise, and all three men rose to greet her husband. He had entered the house quietly, as was his way. Now she heard the ranch hands, stomping off mud on the back porch, removing their boots before coming inside to eat. And she had nothing quite ready to serve … “Pardon me, I’m late in getting the food out,” she mumbled toward her guests, and then turned to her husband. “Sorry, love,” she said lowly, “I was embroiled in this conversation.”
    “No worries,” he said, holding her hand and gazing meaningfully into her eyes. He knew. Knew about Reid. From the expression on his face he had for some time.
    Odessa frowned in confusion.
    “I’ll be back to help you in a minute, Odessa. All right?”
    She pulled her hand from his and hurried to the kitchen, sudden, hot tears in her eyes. How could he know about Reid’s release? And not tell her? Her! It was too much, too much after all that had happened in the last two weeks. But the low rumbling of the hands’ conversation in her kitchen pulled her attention away. She had to maintain some decorum. Get this meal served then excuse herself to go upstairs. Then she could cry. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.
    The men were taking turns at the washbasin, rinsing their hands. She pulled three loaves of bread from the cupboard and placed them at intervals down the table beside bowls of rich, creamy butter. From the oven she pulled a fat rolled roast, still sizzling in its juices. Her hands shook, but she moved on to the mashed potatoes, transferring them into several serving bowls. There were no vegetables to be had, but she opened three precious jars of preserved apples and poured them into three more bowls.
    “Dess?” Bryce said, suddenly at her side. His voice was tense.
    “Can you slice the meat?” she asked, her voice trembling. She dared to look at him, and he frowned at the tears in her eyes.
    “Yes,” he said. “Are you—”
    “I need to go and rest,” she said, hurrying out of the kitchen as tears slipped down her cheeks. She just made it up the stairs and into their room, burying her face into a pillow before the sobs broke free from her throat.

    “I thought it best to wait,” Bryce said, slowly shutting the door behind him.
    She turned around. “Until when?” Odessa asked, dipping her pen and placing it to her paper. She’d been madly writing, consumed by the emotions roiling within her. “Until Bannock showed up here again? Until he came and threatened Samuel and you and me and the men again? He nearly killed us, Bryce! Intended to kill us, all because he thought we knew the way into Sam’s mine. He’ll come again, Bryce. He’ll come after us again.”
    “We’ve been through this, Dess,” he said, walking across the floor to stand beside her. She saw then that the baby was in his arms. She hadn’t heard him wake.