Cassandra Austin Read Free Page B

on that coldhearted sheriff, boy?” she asked. She tried to picture it but couldn’t. Sure, the dog could be threatening enough if she was in danger, but she wasn’t sure he would actually attack.
    Royal yawned again, giving her a good look at his sharp white teeth. The thought of them sinking into somebody’s—anybody’s—flesh made her shiver.Could Royal just scare the sheriff into letting Pa go? She remembered Haywood’s cool gaze. He was so sure of himself, she couldn’t imagine him scared. She was afraid she knew what he would do. He would shoot poor Royal, cold-blooded killer that he was.
    She couldn’t put Royal in danger. She would have to think of something else. Maybe she was going about this wrong. Maybe she should burn down the sheriffs house at the edge of town to create a distraction. She shook her head. She couldn’t quite see herself being that destructive.
    With a sigh, she got up to take her bowl inside. Queen raised her head, and Cally stopped to ruffle her soft brown fur. Queen let her tongue fall out of her mouth to show her pleasure.
    She was about to step over Queen when Royal barked. The dog was watching a tiny figure leave the road at the creek.
    “Early for company,” Cally commented, stepping over Queen and entering the soddy. She didn’t look toward the empty cot. In a moment, she stepped outside carrying Pa’s double-barreled shotgun. Pa had taught her that she could never be too careful, and she had no reason to expect friendly callers.
    Cally returned in the rocking chair and laid the gun across her lap. She watched the figure become a horse and rider and eventually Sheriff Haywood on his sorrel mare. The moment she recognized him, she stood, bringing the stock to her shoulder.
    Andrew pulled the mare to a stop at a respectful distance. “Morning, Miss DuBois.”
    Cally didn’t answer.
    Andrew took in the shotgun and the steady hands that held it. “Mind if I light down?”
    “No need. You ain’t staying.”
    Andrew wasn’t surprised at the unfriendly words. The gun he hadn’t counted on, though he probably should have. He would have to get it out of her hands before he told her what he had come for. He caught himself rubbing the cut on his arm and slowly settled his hand on the pommel.
    “Miss DuBois, I’ll only keep you a moment. If you like, I’ll stay in the saddle, but I’d appreciate it if you would put the shotgun down.”
    It seemed to take the girl forever to decide. Andrew was almost tempted to smile at the picture she made. The squat little soddy seemed a perfect backdrop for the ragamuffin and her long-haired dogs, which could nearly pass as coyotes. The girl’s face was hidden by the brim of the floppy hat, but he would bet she had him sighted down the barrel of the gun.
    He found himself wanting to sketch the scene and mentally shook himself. It had been too long since he had indulged in his favorite hobby. How could he possibly want a picture of this scruffy trio?
    Finally Cally lowered the shotgun and leaned it against the wall behind her. He knew she didn’t trust him and had a feeling she would stay within easy reach of the gun. “State your piece,” she said.
    Andrew took a deep breath. “It’s your father, miss. I came to tell you he…died last night.”

Chapter Two
    A ndrew watched Cally stare at him. She had gone as pale as she had in his office when she nearly fainted. “Miss?” he asked. He wanted to rush to her side, but he didn’t want to be shot.
    “It…it’s not Saturday. Why? I…I don’t understand.”
    The stammered words helped him make up his mind. Andrew swung off his horse and strode to her, ignoring the dog’s low growl. “I’m sorry, miss. You better sit down.”
    “You better explain, mister.” Cally straightened and looked him in the eye. Andrew blinked at the change. Her face was still pale, but the green eyes gazed steadily into his. He had been inches away from taking her in his arms, prepared to comfort a