Cowgirl Under The Mistletoe. Louise Gouge M.

Further, Mrs. Starling was an excellent seamstress and could make more if they needed them. As for the guns, no one in Esperanza would take such weapons because all of their neighbors would recognize them as stolen. When the time was right, Micah would tell Grace about his thoughts.

      His dinner finished, Micah went to work organizing the bedroom he’d used as an office for the past seven years. Yesterday he’d purchased a single bed, bedding and a chest of drawers to accommodate Joel. His large oak desk took up too much space, so to give Joel some privacy, he’d need to move it to the small room behind the church sanctuary. After school let out, he’d find Adam and ask him to help arrange the furniture. He’d also use the opportunity to try to detect any signs of guilt in the boy.

      Although Micah had appreciated Grace’s advice about hosting the Suttons, he decided to ask Mrs. Foster, as well. He walked the two blocks to the elderly lady’s boardinghouse, where he found her in the kitchen, as usual. She motioned for him to take a seat at the table, where she placed a piece of lemon cake before him.

      After enjoying a few delicious bites, he explained his situation and asked her advice.

      “Why, it sounds fine to me.” She poured Micah a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “Just be sure Mr. Sutton is always in the house with you and his sister, and propriety will be satisfied.”

      “That should be easy enough.” Micah spent more time away from the parsonage than in it. “Now, what do you advise for furnishing her room?”

      Mrs. Foster thought for a moment. “I have a spare bedroom suite in storage left by a tenant who moved back East. You may have that.”

      Micah sat back and grinned. Once again the Lord had provided before he asked. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, dear lady. You’ve solved two problems for me.”

      He would need help to move the furniture. Since Adam would be in school until almost four o’clock, Micah returned home to review his sermon notes for Sunday. Satisfied with what he’d written, he retrieved his most recent manuscript from the top drawer of his desk.

      He liked this story even better than the one he’d already sold, but he needed to work on his main character a bit more. He jotted down a few notes about his conversation with Grace regarding the thefts because the incident perfectly suited his fictional female sheriff. Following Charles Dickens’s custom of naming characters after their personality traits, he’d tentatively called his heroine Willa Ketchum, but today the name sounded a little silly. He tapped the end of his pen against his cheek and stared out the window beside him.

      “Charity.” He said the name aloud, but it didn’t sound right. “Mercy? Grace?” He laughed. “That would give me away for certain.” The new name would have to wait.

      He sat back and stared at the half-filled page. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine the next scene for his story. In his mind’s eye, he saw Grace wearing that determined look on her fair face as she insisted Adam was the thief. Micah had intended for his heroine always to be clever at solving crimes, always successful at catching outlaws.

      “Well, Miss Ketchum, maybe it’s time you made a mistake.”

       Chapter Four

      December 1884

      “Finally. Hardison and Smith.” Sheriff Lawson pulled two wanted posters from a newly arrived stack. “You wouldn’t think it’d take two months to get these sent out after a prison escape.” Studying the photographs printed on the papers, he grunted. “Hardison looks like a snake oil salesman, and Smith looks like forty miles of bad road.”

      Grace peered over the sheriff’s shoulder. “Yep. That’s them all right.” A mixture of disgust and sorrow filled her. “Hardison wasn’t bad to look at, and he dressed and spoke well, so he had a lot of people fooled.” She hadn’t paid all that much attention to the man when he first came to Esperanza because she hadn’t been a deputy at the time. Her stopping these two slimy varmints in the midst of their evil deeds had motivated folks to offer her the job. “As for Smith, he didn’t show his ugly face in these parts until the day they attempted to rob the bank.” She shook her head, as if that would get rid of the bad memory.

      “It’s interesting the way these sorts always find each other.” The sheriff scratched his jaw as he always did when he was cogitating. “Like Jud Purvis and the rest of their gang I put in the Kansas penitentiary, they all seem to have a magnet inside that draws evil to evil.”

      “I wouldn’t argue with that.” Grace was glad to see the keen look in his eyes as he studied the posters. He’d been hired for his reputation as a no-nonsense lawman who always got his man. With Esperanza being such a peaceful town and community, he’d had very little to do over the past year and a half. Since news of the outlaws’ escape arrived in October, though, he’d stood straighter and walked with a more purposeful stride. Grace supposed a man needed to feel useful, but she would just as soon no criminals ever reared their ugly heads to threaten her loved ones and friends. Reminding folks to obey the law and keeping the peace were her reasons for wearing a badge.