Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch Read Free Page B

“There has been an accident. Please stay where you are until one of our officers has spoken with you. The remainder of today’s play has been cancelled. The town barbecue will be held tonight as planned.”
    Noise whispered across the street. A few people shook their heads and drifted away, but most waited their turn to speak with the police.
    Cord remained in place, arms stiff as if a pair of handcuffs might materialize on his wrists. “Will I still see you tonight?” he asked me. “If they let me go, that is.”
    “I wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “This is just a formality.”
    Eventually Dr. Barber had Penn’s body moved to his office—which doubled as the medical examiner’s office—and the crowd disbursed. By the time I closed my shop at six that night—another banner day for sales, driven by people curious about the gunfight “incident”—I had tired of saying, “I’m not at liberty to talk about it right now.” At least later I could talk over the events of the day with Cord, my escort to the town barbecue.
    Cord was picking me up at seven thirty. I needed a full hour to change from the dress and bustle of the day to another period costume, a woman’s gym suit. What better time to wear the athletic attire than an informal barbecue? The outfit, black bloomers popular in the 1890s beneath a black and red wool skirt, promised to be warm, and I could secure my hair in a braid. A lovely double cape completed the ensemble if it turned cold, although I didn’t expect it in September.
    Cord would be as eager as I was to discuss the day’s events. Sometimes—well, let’s be honest, most of the time—he accepted the Grace mystique. As a Grace of Grace Gulch, he considered himself above suspicion, even if only on a subconscious level. Chief Reiner’s grandmother on his mother’s side was a Gaynor. Today’s tragedy placed a Grace—Cord—in the power of a Gaynor—Chief Reiner. The feud was alive and well, over a century later.
    I was neither a Grace nor a Gaynor. My own great-grandfather arrived minutes after the famous pair during the land run. Wildes had ranched in Grace Gulch since the beginning and stayed neutral in the feud, profiting from both sides.
    Our neutral stance in business matters didn’t play a part in the friendship that sprang up between the Graces and the Wildes, and eventually, Cord and me. Our ranches shared a common border, although the Grace spread was much larger than ours. We’d done everything, from riding sheep at the rodeo as children to attending our senior prom together. Then Cord went to OSU while I traded in two years at the community college my sister now attended for two years at a fashion design school in Houston. People assumed Cord and I would tie the knot someday.
    I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t marry Cord when Audie Howe also made my heart race. Cord was like my brother, a warm quilt when I wanted the comfort of the familiar. But Audie. . .
    No, I refused to think about Audie tonight. Cord had invited me to the barbecue first. I had accepted his invitation, and I intended to enjoy myself.
    Dressing in period costume gave me an excuse to avoid wearing makeup. Taming my wild dandelion hair into a single braid took all my time until Cord rang the doorbell.
    Cord dressed like he always did—in blue jeans and a plaid shirt, newly pressed in honor of the occasion, a jacket lined with sheepskin, and his favorite black Stetson on his head. “Your steed is ready, ma’am.” He had teased me about renting a “surrey with the fringe on top” in honor of the barbecue. I confess I felt a tad relieved to see his usual blue pickup in the driveway.
    He didn’t bother to help me into the truck. Good thing I had exchanged bloomers for the afternoon’s dress and bustle.
    “How long did they keep you downtown?” I asked.
    He smiled his melt-your-heart smile that made girls swoon. I wondered if it covered up insecurities tonight, as it often did.
    “Not long. They took