Someone Like You by Elaine Coffman Page A

of a little something to eat.”
    Violette slapped her forehead. Poor man. She hadn’t meant to strip him of all his dignity. “Lord save me for an idiot! Of course you would. And didn’t I sit there big as a bump on a pickle and hear you tell the sheriff you took a bite of that pie because you were hungry? Please forgive my oversight, Mr. Garrett.” She turned to Susannah. “Will you—”
    Susannah looked completely ashamed of herself, and Vi was happy to see her niece hadn’t lost her kind streak after all. “I’ll bring some of that fried chicken and a couple of roasting ears. I think there are a few leftover biscuits, too.”
    “I’d appreciate it,” he said. “I’m sorry to put you to all that trouble.”
    Susannah nodded. “It’s no trouble, Mr. Garrett, I assure you. There is nothing embarrassing about being hungry. It is an honest feeling and a saintly one.”
    Susannah gave Violette a knowing smile, then took Dahlia’s arm, and started toward the house.
    “I really am sorry to put you to so much trouble,” Reed said.
    “It’s our pleasure, believe me. I apologize for Dahlia. Sometimes my sister is such a fusspot. She’s an old maid, you know.”
    Reed chuckled. “You aren’t sizing me up for the job of changing her station in life, are you?”
    “I offered you a job to help you out. I didn’t bring you here to torture you, Mr. Garrett.”
    “You don’t think my staying here will be a problem with any of the folks in town, do you?”
    Violette was liking him better and better. “No one in town will—well, there is one person who might mind, but he’s no one to worry about.”
    “Who might that be?”
    “A fellow by the name of Tate Trahern. I believe you heard the sheriff and me mention him. He’s old Thad Trahern’s son and the only heir to the Double T, which is the largest ranch in these parts. As I said before, Tate has been sweet on Susannah for as long as I can remember, not that it’s done him any good. Susannah doesn’t pay him any mind.”
    He looked in the direction Susannah and Dahlia had taken. “She doesn’t appear to pay anyone any mind.”
    Violette followed his gaze, but Susannah was already in the house. “It is difficult to keep a cracked kettle from leaking now and then,” she murmured.
    Puzzled, he finally said, “Well, I hate to think I’m the cause of anyone being angry at her.”
    “Tate won’t stay mad at Susannah for long. She’s the only thing he’s ever wanted that he can’t have. He won’t risk making her mad at him. And if he does, he can just take himself off and scratch his mad place.”
    “You’re a nice person, Mrs. Wakefield.”
    “So are you, Mr. Garrett. You aren’t married, are you?”
    “No. Why? Are you interested?”
    She laughed. “I would be, Mr. Garrett, if I were thirty years younger.”
     
    Over the next week Reed learned many things, not the least of which were that Dahlia and Violette seemed to live to disagree, and that their parents must have loved flowers, or, at least, horticultural names.
    The plow horse was Rosebud; the milk cow, Peony; the pet goose, Daffodil, or as Susannah had told him, “more appropriately called Daffy”.
    When he had asked why, Susannah merely smiled and said, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
    But it was the name bestowed on the fat old sow with thirteen piglets that brought the biggest smile to his lips. Who would ever think of giving a pig such a dignified name as Miss Lavender?
    Reed was in the barn loft, storing hay that had been curing in the pasture, and, as if she knew he was thinking about her, Miss Lavender let out a loud squeal, followed by several grunts issued in rapid succession. Hearing the ruckus, he moved to the door where the pulley hung. He looked outside. Miss Lavender had quieted down somewhat, but he didn’t know for how long, since Dahlia’s cat, Parsnip, was watching her from a fence post not too many feet away. Tormenting Miss Lavender was a favorite pastime