Deborah Camp Read Free Page A

behind her veil. “I guess the early bird should get the worm,” he said with a smirk. “No offense, Miss Agatha, but Mrs. Hathaway should get her reward for arriving first.”
    Zanna felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she was glad the veil concealed her smile of relief.
    “Fiddlesticks,” Miss Agatha said, whirling from the others and leaving them in a swish of satin and silk. “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”
    “There’ll be others, Miss Agatha,” the sheriff called after her. “The next time I’ll make sure you know before anyone else.”
    “So get me out of here,” the prisoner said, directing a narrow-eyed glare at the sheriff.
    “Mrs. Hathaway, are you sure about this?” the sheriff asked, giving her a last chance to call a halt to the proceedings.
    “I’m very sure,” she informed him in a tone that brooked no argument.
    The sheriff fumbled with the key ring. “Adams, you’ve got to sign a document agreeing to the rules I set forth, You’ll sign?”
    “I’ll sign anything but my own death warrant. Now let me out of this pigsty.”
    “Just hold your horses,” the sheriff snapped as he fit a key into the lock. “Don’t try to bolt and run or I’ll shoot you in the back.”
    The cell door swung open and the prisoner stumbled out. The sheriff reached out a hand to steady him.
    “He’s so weak, he can barely stand,” Zanna said, turning to lead the way from the rancid-smelling jail. “Youshould be ashamed, sheriff. No human being should treat another like an animal.”
    “Like I said, he was going to die anyway so—”
    “Aren’t we all?” Zanna shot back. “We are born to die, sheriff.”
    “That’s an uplifting thought,” the younger man said. “I can tell that living with you is going to be more fun than a barrel of monkeys.” He sat down in the first office chair he encountered. “How about a drink to celebrate the impending wedding?”
    Zanna turned on him. “Are you a liquor lover?”
    “I’m no rummy,” he said, scowling at her. “Water will do me fine. I just need something to wash the sand and dirt out of my mouth.”
    “Sheriff, if you’ll be so kind?” Zanna asked sweetly, and the sheriff offered the prisoner a dipper full of well water which he drank down as if it were his last, then finished off three more just like it.
    “Sign this,” Sheriff Warwick said, slamming a printed document onto the desk next to the prisoner. “It’s your release papers and your solemn oath to obey the rules set forth.”
    The man stared at the parchment, then ran a hand across his eyes.
    “Can’t read, huh?” the sheriff asked with a smirk. “I’ll read it for you.”
    “I can read it.” The man snatched the paper back from the sheriff. “My vision is blurred, that’s all.” His hazel eyes moved slowly across the lines and his frown deepened as he neared the end of the agreement. “In other words, you want me to live the life of a saint.” He sighed wearily and signed his name to it. “There. All done. Now can we get out of this place?”
    “I reckon so. Mrs. Hathaway says that the preacher is—”
    “No, we’re not ready for the preacher just yet.” Zanna reached into her beaded purse and withdrew a folded pieceof paper. “I have another agreement I’d like you to sign.” She spread out the paper on the desk and stepped back while he and the sheriff examined it. “My attorney drew it up. It sets forth what’s expected of you at Primrose, and it must be signed by you and witnessed by Sheriff Warwick before I marry you.”
    “What’s Primrose?” the man asked, glancing at the sheriff when he picked up the paper to give it a closer examination.
    “My ranch.”
    “Ranch?” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as if he were about to faint. “Saints preserve us. A ranch. Why does it have to be a ranch?” The sheriff chuckled at him and he slanted a hateful look up at the grinning lawman. “What’s so blamed