Would you like me to pick out the fabric or would you like to do it?â
âIâll leave that to you. The tablecloths, too.â
âShould I ask Mrs. Wavers if she has a preference as to color?â
âShe canât tell blue from green.â He gestured at Josieâswell-fitted cotton daydress. âBesides, you seem to know what youâre doing. I think sheâd agree.â
âWonderful! Iâll move my things then pick out something at Haskellâs.â
âIâll go tell Charlie to put whatever you need on the hotelâs account. This will work out mighty fine.â
âI think so, too.â
âYou must like Whirlwind if youâre planning to stay.â
âIt seems like a nice place.â She glanced out the window, half expecting to find Sheriff Holt staring back at her. âI met the sheriff today. He seemsâ¦pleasant. What is he like?â
âHeh.â Mr. Wavers peered at her. âYou sweet on him?â
âNo! Nothing like that.â Just because she got a shiver when thinking of those piercing blue eyes did not mean she was sweet on him. She simply wanted to know what she was up against. âIâmâ¦curious.â
âHeâs a fine man. Had his share of troubles, but who hasnât?â
Josie nodded, wondering what troubles the lawman had experienced. He had plainly wanted to know if she were married; she wondered the same about him. Perhaps his coming over to her only meant he was dedicated about doing his job, but Josie knew she couldnât let down her guard around him.
âThank you for letting me switch rooms, Mr. Wavers,â she said in a raised voice. âIâll go move my things.â
She patted his hand and headed upstairs, smiling broadly.
Between the sewing she had brought to finish and the new curtains and tablecloths for the hotel, she would be busier than a one-armed bank robber. She needed to work quickly on the hotelâs items since she didnât know how soon she would be leaving.
But for now she could watch the jail from her new room without attracting notice. When the time was right, shewould make sure Ian McDougal saw justice. And that handsome sheriff wasnât going to get in her way.
Â
It had been two days since Davis Lee had seen Josie Websterâs pretty little hide in the alley. Since heâd seen her anywhere. So where was she? Was she still watching his jail? In case she was, he had taken the precaution of rearranging his schedule, which had caused him to miss his hot pie. If she had left town using the stage or a rig rented from the livery, he wouldâve known.
Either she had left town by some other means or she was up to something. Intending to find out which, he shackled McDougal to the bars of his cell before going outside and locking the door to his office. He walked a slow but thorough path through town. No sign of her. When sheâd left him the other day she had slipped into Haskellâs, so Davis Lee made the general store his last stop before the hotel. Maybe Charlie had seen her.
Davis Lee walked into the store, catching the sweet tang of apples as he said hello to Cal Doyleâs wife, Lizzie, who was leaving.
Charlie Haskell stood behind the scratched wooden counter, polishing his spectacles. The store owner was small-framed and spare. âMorning, Davis Lee. What can I do for you today?â
Mitchell Orr, Charlieâs eighteen-year-old nephew who helped in the store and kept the books, ducked through the faded blue curtain separating the store from the back office. He was dressed just as his uncle in dark trousers and a white shirt with suspenders. His wiry arms held several bolts of white fabric and a red, blue and yellow calico. âHello, Sheriff.â
âHey, Mitchell.â Davis Lee greeted the blond-haired boy before speaking to his uncle. âJust had a question, Charlie.A woman came in here the other day.