The following day, while Fort was out talking to ranchers, Cori spent her time with Cricket at the newspaper going over photos to use for articles and making a list of what others she needed to get for upcoming stories. The newspaper offices were housed in one of the original buildings. Brick walls and large windows gave it charm. The front room were the offices, the back held the antiquated-looking printing press that Cricket ran with the help of some high school students.

“You're really good,” Cricket said as she held a candid of Deke talking with others at the diner. He looked nothing like the guy Fort had said he was. In Deke, Cori saw a warmth and genuine interest for his town and people. Her father had always feigned that. His smile had always been too small or too big. Engaging with the people who'd elected him mayor was one never-ending beauty pageant for him. All fake smiles and what he thought others wanted to hear.

Cori's gut told her something wasn't adding up. No, sir.

Fort texted her that he was coming to town in a few hours and would pass off the truck keys. She would try to talk to him then if she could get him alone. She texted back and asked him to meet her at the station. Hopefully, the walk to there could provide some alone time to think everything out.

Cricket slid another photo from the pile, Deke with this manager. It wasn't a close-up like the previous one, but she could still make out the expressions. Cori had caught them in conversation. On Deke's face was the largest, fakest smile she'd seen him make. But his body language spoke the opposite. Arms were crossed over his chest, shoulders were back in defiance, and he was leaning away. Witty looked much the same, but when Cori lined up a sequence of the photos, Witty never looked at Deke.

“Something’s not right here,” Cricket said.

“I agree. Just wish I knew what.”

Cricket sighed heavily and flicked the photo. “I've known Deke my entire life. Hiring Witty is out of character for him.”

What a perfect moment to dig into Fort's past. “To tell the truth, Fort paints a different picture of Deke.”

Cricket snorted. “I'm sure he does. Those two are like oil and water. Competitive as hell. When we were growing up, Deke had the town's attention. He was great at sports and liked to help out with the rodeos. He's good with animals. Then summer would come and Fort would show up. Anything Deke did, Fort could do better. And man, Fort is amazing with animals.”

Cori nodded her agreement. That had always been true about Fort and animals. She was confused; the math on Deke wasn't adding up. “Deke wasn't a troublemaker?”

“Yeah, sometimes he'd raise a little hell, but because he could always talk his way out of it, he was never held accountable for anything. Drove Fort berserk. No one here is surprised he's a cop.”

“Fort says Deke went after him with a bat.”

Cricket looked away, chewing her lower lip, as if lost in memories. “That was over my sister, Laura. Deke had been in love with her since elementary school.”

Cori put the pieces together. “Wait, your sister was Deke's wife?”

Cricket turned her attention back to Cori. “I can't believe she's gone. A deer ran in front of her car.”

Cori gasped and covered her mouth. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”

Cricket reached for a book on the shelf behind them, a school yearbook. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “This is Laura. She was the best big sister a girl could have. I miss her every day.”

The picture was the famous “senior year photo” with the girl looking over her shoulder. She was stunning. It was easy to see she and Cricket were sisters, though where Cricket had darker hair, Laura had been blond. Laura was totally Fort's type. Cori could easily imagine him getting in a fight over a girl like her. “She's beautiful.”

“Mm, and the kindest heart. The day she was killed she was driving to the assisted living place.”

As a human, this is where Cori fell apart. She didn't know what to say. Were any words the right ones? Instead, she closed her hand over Cricket's and squeezed. Cricket squeezed back.

“I think I need a pastry or something,” Cricket said. “You wanna come with?”

“You bet. I never turn down food.”

“Me either,” Cricket said. “Hey.”

Cori was packing her camera up and turned to face her new friend.

“I'm glad you're here. I like you, and I look forward to getting to know you better.” She bumped Cori with her elbow.

“Oh,” Cori said, uncertain what she should say. What she wanted to say was the same thing, to make plans for the next day or week. But, she reminded herself, she wasn't staying. “I'm glad we met, too. This”––she gestured to Cricket and then herself––“has been very nice.” She hoped it would convey to Cricket that she appreciated her friendship, something Cricket might recall after Cori was gone.

Cori finished packing up, and they walked out the newspaper office together. Cori waited while Cricket put the sign of return on the door and turned the lock. Outside was hot, and the dry air made Cori glad she wore a light skirt and a tank top. Summer here would be a scorcher.

“Just curious, but do you all have a date set?” Cricket asked.

“A date for what?” Cori adjusted her camera bag and kept stride with Cricket's long-legged pace.

“For the wedding,” Cricket said.

Cori stumbled, but quickly recovered and feigned concern over the heel of her cowboy boot, as if the footwear was the culprit.

“Oh, I think it would be hard and unfair to ask Fort to focus on a wedding and an election at the same time.”

Cricket held open the diner door and waved Cori through. “Take the back booth,” Cricket said and pointed to the far corner.

Cricket picked up the conversation after they took opposite sides of the booth. “Do you imagine something big or small?”

She pulled the menu from behind the napkin dispenser and played with the edge. “I dunno. I've never imagined anything.”

Cricket barked out a laugh and wagged her head.

Mrs. Z, sporting freshly dyed purple-tipped hair, slid into the seat next to Cori. “What are you girls talking about?”

Cricket pointed to Cori. “This one just said she's never imagined her wedding when I asked if she was planning something big or small.”

Mrs. Z gave a toothy grin. “I have ten bucks that says she is lying.”

Cori gasped.

“That's a fool's bet,” Cricket said. “Of course, she's lying.” They turned their attention to Cori. “Come on, we all have planned a thousand weddings in our heads. You can't tell me you never dreamt about it.”

Cori never dared. To do so would have been one more crushing blow. One more thing she couldn't have. One more hopeless dream. Even now, she dared not pretend because once she left Wolf Creek, those dreams and memories would follow her.

Cori rubbed her arms in hopes of keeping away the pessimism. She would not give in to their pushiness. Besides, doing so probably fell into one of the rules she and Fort had made and swore not to break. They had to at least keep one rule. “Honestly, I'm not picky. It's not the event, but the commitment. That's what counts.”

“I'm gonna lay it out for you, dear,” Mrs. Z said and patted her hand. “You and Fort should tie the knot before the election.”

Cori moved to the corner of the booth, shaking her head. “Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. Bad idea. That's asking too much of him.”

Cricket leaned across the table to Mrs. Z. “She doesn't think it’s fair to have Fort split his attention between the two events.” She glanced at Cori. “Right?”

Cori nodded.

Mrs. Z shrugged. “Fair enough, but what if all he had to do was show up?”

Cori felt like a bobble head with her maniacal shaking. She already knew this train was about to derail.

“What about your momma? Would she need to have a say?” Mrs. Z was fumbling through her purse as she asked.

“Um, no. Not my mom. But this is not a good—”

“Hush, child. We've got this covered.” She pulled a sheet of folded notebook paper from her purse and went about straightening it on the table. “I've already spoken with Fort's momma and got her input. We figure, Cricket and I, that you and Fort move too slow.”

“Look how long it took him to bring you here,” Cricket interjected.

“And left to your own devices, you'll both be old and gray before you tie the knot, so we're gonna help you out.” She pointed to the paper. “Ten days before the election will be the rehearsal. That way y'all can go away for two nights into Cody or somewhere for a quick honeymoon.”

On the wide-rule paper was the sequence of events leading up to Cori and Fort's nuptials.

“Um...” Backing away from this would take finesse, a delicacy Cori wasn't sure she possessed. “Um…”

“Is that a look of pleasure? I hope so. Fort's momma has run through this list and approved it. In fact, she's split half the tasks with us and started on them.”

Cori's mouth fell open, her eyes darting from Cricket to Mrs. Z. “I can't have you all do this. I have to talk with Fort. He may not want to get married so soon.”

Mrs. Z waved an indifferent hand. “Then he wouldn't have put that ring on your finger. It’s all relative, and you said so yourself, it’s not about the event but the commitment. This town needs to see that.”

“But we are committed.” She waved the ring around.

Cricket leaned closer and whispered, “Many think that if Fort loses, he'll leave with you to go back to your hometown. They want to see you all settled here. That way if Deke doesn't work out, they can vote Fort in the next election.”

Cori let the words sink in around her. “Wait, so is Deke going to win this election anyway. No matter what?” Would Fort ask her to leave if that was true?

Mrs. Z gave her a sad smile. “He's got a strong lead. There are still some gun-shy where Fort is concerned. Which is why we thought we'd ease their anxiety with a wedding. Who doesn't love a wedding?”

Cori resumed her head shaking. “That feels dishonest.” Look at her, the kettle calling the pot black. “Besides.” She tried to image a big fancy wedding and couldn't. “The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I'd elope.”

Cricket and Mrs. Z gasped and sat back away from her.

“Elope?” Cricket said.

“You can't do that. This town would be so hurt,” Mrs. Z added.

Cori looked around the diner. She was starting to put names with faces and could add little facts about people. Like Mrs. Williams baked a lot, every day, and Mr. Phillips, for all his weird theories, was lonely, she could see it in his eyes. Whenever she mentioned little tidbits about Fort, the locals enjoyed it. He'd held himself back, and Cori understood why, but the good people of Wolf Creek had been asking him to join them for years. Eventually, the invitation would be withdrawn. People did get tired of waiting around. Mrs. Z was right. If Fort shut them out any longer, he would always be an outsider.

Maybe she couldn't get the people of Brewster to forgive her, to move on, but she could help Fort move forward. He deserved to be happy, too.

“Okay,” she said, more for herself than for them. Okay, she was going to help Fort really win over this town.

Cricket and Mrs. Z squealed with pleasure.

“All you have to do is say what flavor cake you like, Mrs. Williams is baking it, what flowers you love, I'm handling that, and pick out a dress.”

“Wait, I was saying okay that we wouldn't elope. Not okay we'll get married in”—she slid the paper from Mrs. Z, scanned it, and then gulped—“three weeks.” No way in hell.

“Too late,” Cricket said. “You agreed.”

A wild panic was rising within Cori. “But no, I can't,” she blustered. The train had not only derailed but tipped over as well and was spilling its wares all over the place. “I mean, I have to talk to Fort.”

Mrs. Z smiled coyly. “His mom's already cleared the date. But here's your chance to finalize it all. Here he comes.”

Cory looked to the door and watched Fort enter and then stop to talk to a few people along the way, occasionally glancing at her, a small smile on his lips. Poop on a porcupine, he was hot. Looking all trim and manly in his uniform. For a second she imagined what it would be like to be married to Fort, to snuggle next to him every night. A flush of heat burst from her girly parts and swarmed her body.

Cori was glad they hadn't had time to order because suddenly she wasn't hungry at all.

“Good afternoon, ladies. How are you today?” Fort said with a smile for each of them.

Cori tried to signal a message to him. Run! Duck! Brace yourself! she screamed in her head, making her eyes go wide and crazy, hoping her look would convey the words as the warnings ran a loop in her head.

“Fort,” Mrs. Z said while tucking the paper in her purse. “Remember that old honey shack that sits between your momma's place and mine?”

“The hunting cabin?”

Mrs. Z cast a coy glance at Cori and Cricket. “Every time Earl and I went there, very little hunting was done, if you know what I mean.” She elbowed Cori. “Yes, that place. Can you be a dear and go by it sooner than later? My foreman thought maybe it was being used. Maybe those kids who like to hang out by the tracks. I'd like a trained eye to look at it.”

“I can do it today,” he said.

“You're a dear,” she said and winked at Cori. “Also—”

Cori jumped up on the bench seat. “We need to go,” she said in a rush of words.

“Are you okay?” Fort asked.

“I'm fine. Great.” She stepped cautiously over Mrs. Z.

“What's the rush, dear?” Mrs. Z asked. “We were going to tell Fort—”

She blurted out, “He has to be at work soon and promised me a quickie.”

Both Cricket and Mrs. Z's mouth dropped.

Cori continued. “You know how it is. Working all those hours, we never get any time.” She faced Fort then leaped into his arms. “Run,” she whispered in his ear.

He slid her slowly down his side, his steely eyes twinkling as he tried to read her.

Cori did some fast thinking. She needed to get them outta there. “Thanks for the conversation, ladies. I'll make sure to get back with you about everything. Come on,” she said and grabbed Fort's hand. Making a beeline straight for the door, she dragged him from the diner with all her might. Once outside, she kept up her pace until they were a good half block away and Fort jerked her hand, pulling her back toward him.

“A quickie? Really? What's going on?” His brow was furrowed, but bemusement played on his lips.

Cori looked around him and saw that no one was within hearing distance. “Something terrible has happened,” Cori whispered.

He automatically reached for his gun.

“No, nothing like that. Worse,” she said while swiping at his hand. She needed to tell him, just needed to blurt it out. Like ripping a Band-Aid off a gaping wound that would likely spurt blood. “They are planning our wedding. Your mom is in on it. We're getting married at the town gazebo in three weeks. Wear your gray suit.” She had read that note jotted out to the side on Mrs. Z's paper and realized Ms. Saira must have written it.

The smirk was gone, replaced with a tight-lipped grimace. “The hell you say?”

“No joke. I tried to get around it. They say that being hitched will go a long way with the election.”

Fort looked over her shoulder, his face impassive, like granite. “We need to work this out someplace private.” He took her by the elbow and led her toward the sheriff's department. At the door, he told her to wait then stuck his head inside.

“Bitsy, I'm headed out to check out something for Mrs. Z. I'll be back soon. Call me on the radio if you need anything as I'll be in the back forty,” he said and then stepped out without waiting for a reply.

He reached for her arm again, but she pulled away. “I know how to walk and can make it to the truck on my own accord. No need to drag me there.”

He pointed to the passenger door. “Get in,” he bit out.

As if this was her fault. But then, according to everyone affected by her dad, wasn't everything her fault anyway?