Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek (20 page)

No, Judd and his new wife wouldn't find life as simple as they thought it would be. Marriage never was. Barbara knew all of the things that could go wrong with a marriage and she didn't want to be responsible for any of them happening to Judd.

That's why, now that he was getting married, Barbara had moved off Judd's ranch and into the small town of Dry Creek. Lizette had offered the room at the back of her dance studio as a temporary home for Barbara and the children until they found something more permanent. There weren't any houses for rent in Dry Creek right now, so Barbara knew she'd have to wait. Not that there would be any houses for rent soon.

The only house that wasn't occupied was the old Gossett house, and Mr. Gossett was in prison. Mrs. Hargrove wrote to him regularly, and in her last letter she'd asked him if he'd be willing to rent the house. He wrote back saying he was thinking of giving the house to his nephew, but he'd find out if his nephew was interested in renting it out to her.

Even if the Gossett house did become avail able,
it would take a lot of repairs before anyone could live in it.

In the meantime, the room in the back of Lizette's dance studio had become the resting place for Barbara and her children. The room wasn't large, but it was bigger than most of the hotel rooms where they'd lived for periods of time over the past few years. Lizette had lived in the back room of her studio before she got married, and there was a kitchen and a bathroom attached to it. It would be fine.

There wasn't much furniture in the studio's back room and Barbara had vowed that, now that she and the children weren't moving so much, she would replace that old folding table with a solid kitchen table, the kind of table children needed for family meals and homework.

They might not have a home yet, but they'd have a table. It was a start.

And, for now, the back room was convenient for Barbara since she was temporarily working in the fledgling bakery that Lizette had started in the front part of the building. Barbara knew she'd eventually need to get a job that was more solid, but she was grateful for the bakery job. It was helping her gain some job experience and it was early-morning work so she was done by the time the school bus came through Dry Creek to drop the children off after school.

Barbara ordinarily kept a close eye on her children,
but she was checking them even more frequently of late. She'd had these funny feelings the past few days that someone was watching her and the children through the store front windows. Whenever she looked up, however, she didn't see anyone on the street outside the window, so she was probably being foolish.

Besides, even if someone was looking in the window, it didn't mean anything was wrong. People looked in store front windows all the time, she reminded herself.

Maybe it was just hard for her to get used to their new home, Barbara told herself. It had bigger windows than most places she had stayed. She wasn't used to so much openness.

At least Lizette had hung good, thick curtains on the windows in the back room. There was no chance anyone could look through those windows when Barbara and the children were sleeping.

Barbara shook herself. Now, why was she worrying about this when she was here to celebrate a wedding? Dry Creek wasn't the kind of place where people went around looking into the private windows of other people. They might be very interested in her and the children, but no one would actually spy on them.

There must just be a draft in that old bakery building and a tingle of cold air must blow through now and again and hit her on the back of the neck,
she decided. That must be what that tingling sensation was all about.

Or, she thought to herself, maybe the tingling had just been her nerves re minding her of the upcoming wedding. She'd certainly had reason enough to dread the event.

But now that the wedding was over, the nervousness would stop and that would be it. She could get on with earning the acceptance of the people of Dry Creek.

It was too bad that she couldn't begin with the sheriff. Of all of the people there, he suddenly looked like he would be the hardest to win over.

T
he wedding reception was still going strong. Laughter and chatter filled the old barn. Barbara watched the sheriff while she sat in a folding chair beside where the children were playing.

The sheriff seemed to be intercepting anyone who was walking toward Barbara. One would think she had a big
C
for “criminal” branded on her forehead. The sheriff took one man by the arm and pointed him in a different direction. He whispered something in the ear of another. She couldn't imagine why he cared if the ranch hands talked to her. They certainly didn't have anything she could steal.

Well, no matter what his reasons were for keeping people away from her, today was supposed to be a happy day and Barbara was determined to keep looking happy even if she had to change her view to do so.

Since no one was going to talk to her inside the
building with the sheriff blocking the way, Barbara decided to go outside. Barbara looked down at the bridal bouquet she still held. Was it just her, or did the flowers look a little wilted?

 

Sheriff Wall watched Barbara walk back over to Mrs. Hargrove and say something before heading toward the barn door and going outside. Ordinarily, he wouldn't need to follow Barbara everywhere, but if anyone was going to make contact with her, they would do it at some event like this. Strangers stood out in Dry Creek on an ordinary day, but tonight a dozen strangers could wander around and no one would pay much attention to them as long as they held a plastic cup filled with Mrs. Hargrove's special rasp berry punch.

Of course, he wasn't worried about Barbara seeking to contact her ex-husband's criminal partners. The sheriff had talked with her enough in the hospital and then later in Dry Creek to know she wasn't likely to turn to crime. She'd seen first-hand what crime did to a person, and she knew it wasn't good.

But that didn't mean Barbara might not un wittingly receive a message from her ex-husband and not realize what it meant. She'd said she hadn't heard from him, but she might be hoping for some message anyway. After all, the two of them had been married for a long time and had children together.
They probably still had business to settle between them.

Yeah, the sheriff told himself, he'd better go outside and stand in the dark with her just to be on hand if anyone came up to her with a message. It could be something as simple as “look in the tool chest for the key to the safety deposit box” or “dig up grand ma's favorite rosebush and see what you find.”

The sheriff wished again that he had some of Pete's charm with women. At least Pete could go out and stand there without looking like a fool with nothing to say.

 

Barbara took a deep breath the minute she stepped outside. She looked around and was relieved no one else was close by. It did look as though someone was sitting in one of the pickups parked by the barn, but that was the only sign of life. Most of the cars were over by the church. The moon was out, but it was still dark enough that she couldn't see much beyond the vehicles.

Whoever was in the pickup seemed to be taking a nap, so Barbara felt alone enough to relax.

After living through a cold winter here, she knew she'd never get tired of Montana spring nights. They were such a relief after the snow. It was a warm March, and the sounds from inside the barn were
muted enough that she could almost hear the sounds of the outside. Now that spring was here, there was no snow to muffle the night sounds. She heard the sound of a coyote off in the distance. And a dog barking closer to town.

Someone had lined up some folding chairs along the side of the barn, and Barbara stepped over to them and sat down. She set the bouquet down on the chair next to her and slid her shoes halfway off her feet. She wasn't used to wearing high heels any more and they pinched. Barbara leaned back in the chair. Now she almost felt good enough to smile for real.

She heard the sound of a pickup door being opened. Apparently, the man was finished with his nap.

Right then, the door to the barn opened and light spilled out into the darkness.

“Trouble?” Barbara asked when she looked up and saw the sheriff. She'd given it some thought and had almost decided that the reason the sheriff had been frowning so much was because he had official business some where. Maybe his mood had nothing to do with her. Maybe she'd just grown so distrustful of men that she saw betrayal and censure everywhere she looked.

Yes, that must be it, Barbara told herself in relief. Someone must be in trouble and the sheriff was passing the word along to others who could help. The sheriff seemed always to be working. Even though he
was wearing a regular black suit and not his uniform tonight, he was probably still on duty. She supposed a lot of his social evenings were interrupted like this.

“Trouble? No,” the sheriff said as he let the door close behind him. He stood still for a moment. “Unless you've seen something?”

Barbara refused to be disappointed that the sheriff wasn't worried about someone else. “Me? What would I see?”

“Oh, you never know when someone sees something out of the ordinary.” The sheriff walked over to the folding chairs where Barbara sat and stretched out on the chair closest to the barn door. It was six chairs away from Barbara.

“No, nothing out of the ordinary here.”

Maybe the sheriff was just worried from habit, Barbara decided. She was glad she had nothing to worry him further. She had noticed that whoever was getting out of the pickup had changed his mind and settled back into the seat. But there was nothing unusual about one of the men around here deciding to take a bit longer with his nap. A lot of them worked hard and were tired. The only thing that was unusual lately was that strange tingling sensation she'd had at the back of her neck. “Has anybody thought of getting a big street light around here?”

“A street light? We only have the one street.”

“I know, but it's a very dark street—especially at night.”

“People like it that way. If they get a street light, they worry they won't be able to see the stars.”

“It could be a small light.”

The sheriff shrugged. “The county is voting next month on all the business. Bring it up at the town hall meeting we have. See what people think.”

“Me? Would I go to the meeting?”

“I don't see why not. This is where you live, isn't it?”

“Yes, but—” Barbara had never voted in a local election before. She'd never been in one place long enough to qualify for anything like that. She'd gotten a library card once, but that was all.

“There'll be a vote for sheriff coming up,” he added. “If you're interested in voting, that is.”

Barbara was relieved. Whatever was troubling the sheriff, he must not suspect her of anything. He was asking her for something that implied she was almost one of the citizens of Dry Creek. “Well, you can count on my vote—I mean, if I don't need to own property or any thing.”

“Nope. No property. Just show up at the barn here and vote.”

Was it really that simple? It wasn't pouring coffee, but voting had to count for something. Maybe becoming part of life in Dry Creek was possible after
all. Barbara felt a rush of enthusiasm at the thought. “I suppose you have a campaign team already lined up?”

She knew the sheriff was reliable and did a good job. He'd saved a life or two and he'd even tracked her down last fall. She'd heard enough talk around to know he was well thought of in Dry Creek.

“Campaign?” the sheriff looked startled.

“Yeah, you know, your campaign to get peoples' votes. I'm just wondering if you have anyone working on the campaign. I could help pass out flyers or something if you need someone else to help. Just let me know who to talk to about it.”

There, Barbara thought. It was the perfect place to start. A flyer was worth less than even a plastic plate, so no one needed to trust her with anything. Unless, of course, the sheriff thought she wasn't good enough to hand out his flyers. Maybe since she'd been married to a criminal, he was afraid that she would taint his campaign.

Barbara held herself still. “That is, if you want me to work with you?”

 

The sheriff felt his collar get tight and he swallowed. He should have worn his uniform instead of this suit. He'd never given any thought to a campaign. People around Dry Creek didn't need a campaign to know to vote for him for sheriff. For one thing, there
was no one running against him. But Barbara didn't know that, and if she was working on a campaign with him, she'd have to spend time with him. That would keep her away from guys like Pete.

It would also be easier for him and the FBI to keep an eye on her. Now that he thought about it, it was almost his duty to spend as much time as possible with Barbara Strong.

The sheriff took a deep breath. “Sure. We could get together for dinner tomorrow night at the café and work out a campaign strategy.” His voice sounded a little strained, but he hoped Barbara wouldn't notice. He seldom asked a woman out on a date. Not that this was a date. At least, he didn't think it was. “I'd buy, of course.”

“Oh, no, I couldn't let you buy—”

“No, it would be official campaign business.”

Barbara pinked up for a moment and then she nodded. “Well, then, yes—I'll ask Mrs. Hargrove to sit with the children while I step over to the café. But she might not be able to since it's Saturday night and she needs to get ready to teach Sunday school the next morning.”

The sheriff couldn't help but notice how pleased Barbara looked. He could hardly keep his mind on Mrs. Hargrove. He sure wondered if this was going to be a date. But in any case, Barbara was right. They needed someone to watch the children.

“I'll talk to Mrs. Hargrove,” the sheriff said.

“That's right—I forgot you know her pretty well. She said you fixed her roof a couple of weeks ago.”

“Just a few shingles. Nothing much,” the sheriff said. He didn't want to derail the conversation by talking about Mrs. Hargrove's chores. He knew there had to be a chore on her list that was worth a night's babysitting even if it was a Saturday night. “Linda has a great steak special going on Saturday nights.”

“She might agree to let us put some of your flyers in the café, too,” Barbara said.

The sheriff swallowed. “We sort of need to make a flyer before we can pass it out.”

Barbara brightened even more at that. “You mean no one's done a flyer yet? Would it be okay if I worked on that, too? We'll need a slogan. Some thing catchy. Some thing that sets you apart from your competition.”

The sheriff felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't not tell her. Not when her face was getting so excited. “About my competition…so far I don't have any.”

The sheriff closed his eyes.

“Well, surely someone will run against you,” Barbara said. She frowned a little. “They probably just haven't put in their name yet.”

The sheriff sat up straighter. She was right.

Someone could decide to run against him. It wasn't
likely, but it could happen. Maybe there'd even be a write-in campaign. One or two people usually wrote in a name on the ballot instead of voting for him. The name was usually Daffy Duck or Santa Claus, but legally it was a vote for another candidate. That had to mean something. He moved a couple of chairs closer to Barbara without even thinking about it. “It's a good thing we're going to do a campaign then.”

Barbara smiled. “It's always good to get out the vote. It helps the whole community. We need to think of things that would rhyme with Sheriff Wall.”

“There's
all,
” the sheriff said, noticing that Barbara had picked up the bouquet she'd caught and was holding it in her lap. He slipped over onto the chair next to her.

“And a button, we'll need a button,” she said. “So me thing in blue. People trust blue. Or maybe red. Red is power.”

The sheriff nodded. He didn't care if Barbara decided to dress him up in a clown suit and have him pass out suckers in front of the café. She was sitting next to him and talking and her hands were going a mile a minute.

Saturday night was definitely going to be a date if the sheriff had anything to say about it. He smiled his best smile. “I appreciate anything you can do—for the campaign, that is.”

“I'm handling the bakery while Lizette and
Judd are gone on their honeymoon, but I can think about the slogan while I work.” Barbara held up the rose bouquet as though she was seeing it for the first time. “And, another good thing about this campaign is that it will help people forget I caught this thing.”

The sheriff couldn't ask what the first good thing was. He had a bad enough feeling in his stomach about the second good thing. “Why is that?”

“Everyone talks during a political campaign. There'll be issues and answers. People will forget I caught the bouquet and that I'm supposed to be the next one to marry. People think Lizette knows I'm hoping to get married again and that's why she tossed me this bouquet. But I've told Lizette it's just the opposite. I'm never going to get married again.”

“Oh.”

Barbara stood up. “I'm going to be a good citizen though.”

“You can be a good citizen and married at the same time.” The sheriff thought he should point that out.

It was too late. Barbara was already opening the door to go back inside the barn.

Barbara looked around when she stepped back inside. She felt better than she had since she'd come to Dry Creek. This was the perfect solution to her problem. If she campaigned for the sheriff, people
would surely see that she took a firm stand in favor of law and order.

Granted, it wasn't like being asked to do a fund-raiser for the school or anything that involved money, but it was a start. The next thing she knew, she'd be asked to join the Parent-Teacher Association. Then maybe they'd ask her to pour coffee for the town at some event.