CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Slouched over a stack of official forms, Clint silently cursed the paperwork that went along with being sheriff. He’d put the task off for months, and now he was paying the price. The pencil wobbled in his hand. Damn it. He’d always been a clumsy writer because he had difficulty holding his pencil. Mr. Edwards, his teacher, had taken delight in rapping his knuckles with a ruler more times than Clint liked to remember. Give me a pitchfork any day. Cleaning ten stalls sounded like a vacation over writing one lousy report.
Movement outside caught his eye. He glanced up.
At the sight of Mrs. Applebee headed his way, his arm jerked forward, knocking over the stack of documents. They flew out and scattered on the floor, settling just as the oldest Brinkman daughter walked through the door. In her hands was a large tray from the hotel’s café.
He bolted to his feet, hoping she didn’t notice the mess strewn everywhere.
She stared, and then her gaze flew up to his, a comical twist lifting her mouth.
“Good day, Mrs. Applebee.” He totally ignored the littered floor.
“Good day, Sheriff Dawson,” she replied, still holding the tray.
“What do we have here?” He came forward and lifted the red-and-white checkered napkin protecting the food. “Fried chicken! My favorite.”
“Food for the prisoners—not that they deserve any.”
Okay, so the meal wasn’t for him. He could live with that.
“If it were up to me, I’d let them starve.”
He had to give her credit. Not once since she’d come through the door had she looked over to the cells that held the two men who’d absconded with Katie Brinkman, each wearing a wicked stare.
She has guts, to say the least.
Reaching forward, he took the tray and placed it on his desk between the reports. Just like the first time they’d met, she still wore the gloves that looked so out of place. Her sisters didn’t, and he wondered why she was different. Does she have a strange sense of style?
“Kind of you. I was about to head to the café myself. To pick it up.”
She hedged a small smile. “Not kind at all, Sheriff.” Her nostrils flared just the tiniest bit. “I went to the café to pick up lunch for Katie and myself, and Karen was just finishing up with this. I mentioned that I was planning on speaking with you, so she asked if I’d please bring this over. They’re shorthanded today.”
All right, she did the nice deed for Karen, not for me, and wasn’t too timid to say so. He liked a woman who was up front. Left little room for confusion. Still, his bubble did burst, at least a little.
“Well, I thank you anyway, for saving me the steps.”
She eyed the mess on the floor. “Do you need help?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you all the same. You said you had a question for me?” He did his best to look agreeable. “How can I help?”
“I’d like to speak outside.”
He nodded and let her lead the way out. On the boardwalk, she took a deep breath as if she needed to clean her lungs.
“Sheriff, I can’t be away from my sister for long, so I must make this fast. Because of what happened yesterday, Katie is terribly frightened. Every time she hears footsteps in the hotel hallway, she about jumps out of her skin thinking those disgraceful men are back. It’s unsettling with them so close. How long will they be here?”
“Until they’re tried and sentenced for their crime.”
“And how long will that be? I have no idea how things work around here. Everything is so small and close together. In Philadelphia, the police station is blocks and blocks away from everything. Knowing they’re right across the street is discomforting. Isn’t there anything else you can do with them?”
“Do, Mrs. Applebee? What can I do? We have to wait for a judge to come through on his monthly rotation. And that too can be hit-and-miss. I’ve put out a telegram, but now we just have to wait.”
Her toe began a steady tap on the wooden boardwalk as she considered his words.
“Your office is kitty-corner to the hotel. We can easily see it from my room, where we spend much of our time. Is there really nothing you can do, or are you just saying that?”
Affronted by her question, Clint straightened. “I don’t lie, Mrs. Applebee. I assure you there are no other buildings secure enough to hold those men. If they were to escape, they’d be a real threat to Katie, or anyone else, for that matter—have you thought of that? What’s worse? Having to see the place where they’re locked up, or having them kidnap another unsuspecting woman?” As irritated as he was by her accusation, he couldn’t help but admire her concern for her sister. “There is something you could do, though.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Close your curtains. Don’t look out. Or move to another room. That would solve everything.”
She folded her arms. “I can’t see the wind, but I know it’s there. Every time we take a walk, Katie will be reminded.”
“Sheriff!” one prisoner yelled. “We’re hungry! That fried chicken smells good.”
He ignored the men. “I’m sorry. There’s no other place to keep prisoners. After what’s happened, I assume you and your sisters will be returning east. None of you bargained for such a wild and unlawful place, I’m sure.”
“We’re taking one day at a time. Do you know the men? Do they have a reputation in Colorado?”
“I’ve never seen ’em or heard of ’em before yesterday. I’ll let you know if I find out anything substantial.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Perhaps Katie would feel more comfortable out at the ranch? I can arrange for transportation. I heard your other sisters went out early this morning . . .”
Her mouth pursed. “My, news gets around.”
Warmth crept up his neck. “Yes, ma’am. It does.”
She looked over her shoulder and through the doorway at his paperwork scattered haphazardly over the floor. “You’re sure I can’t be of help, Sheriff Dawson? Your paperwork is taking over your office.”
“No, I was just . . .” He gave a hearty chuckle. She smiled for the first time since her arrival. “I do appreciate your concern. I can straighten out my own mess, which I plan to do just as soon as you leave. I’d just rather be chasing after an outlaw then filling out a mountain of forms.”
She departed, and he walked back inside, wondering if he should have taken her up on her offer to help. He wouldn’t mind spending a few hours in the same room, even with her spiky attitude. He hoped maybe next time she stopped by, the fried chicken she brought would be for him.