Cassandra Austin by Callyand the Sheriff Read Free Book Online Page B

expect her to cook and clean,” Noella said. “It won’t be hard work. We’re both healthy and don’t need to be waited on hand and foot.”
    “Her room will be back here,” said Easter, opening a door off the kitchen.
    “It’s very nice,” he said. He had to tell them. He took a deep breath. “In fact, it’s much nicer than what she’s used to. Ladies, Miss DuBois has grown up in a soddy. I’m afraid she’s…got a few rough edges.” Did that really say what he meant?
    Noella and Easter exchanged a look again. “Don’t worry, Sheriff. We’ll civilize her,” Noella asserted.
    Early in the evening, Andrew decided to lock up his office. He was still on duty, but almost anyone looking for him would know to come to the house on the edge of town. With no prisoner in the cell, he could spend the night in his bed, a luxury he hadn’t experienced since his deputy’s wife had taken sick three days before. In all that time, he hadn’t been home except to feed his horses and to wash andchange clothes. While he regretted the circumstances that made it possible tonight, he was more than ready for a quiet evening alone with his books or his sketch-book.
    As he locked up the office and started down the darkening street, he realized he had waited longer than necessary, half-expecting to see Cally. Her visits had become a habit—like a toothache.
    At home, he settled into a comfortable chair, gathering his sketchbook and pencils from the nearby table. In spite of the shock of his visit with Dr. Briggs and his frustration with Mr. Cobb, he wasn’t totally unhappy with his afternoon’s accomplishments. He had found a home for Cally.
    He began sketching the women’s faces as he remembered their conversation. Easter and Noella Gwynn seemed willing to overlook her lack of social graces. It was more than he had hoped for.
    “We’ll civilize her,” Noella had said. He wondered if she realized the magnitude of that particular task.
    Though it wouldn’t necessarily impress Cally, the cozy room off the kitchen would be far more comfortable than her old sod house. Between the Gwynn’s modern kitchen and large but tightly built house, the work would probably be easier than what the girl experienced now. Certainly, the gentlewomen would be far better influences on her developing mind than her drunken father!
    Her father. As he continued to sketch, Andrew recalled Dr. Briggs’s revelation. The fact that he had had no way of knowing the danger when he gave DuBois a drink was little comfort. He reminded himselfthat it was merely a possibility but still had trouble shaking off the guilt. He felt even more responsible for the girl than he had after DuBois’ request.
    He looked down at the picture he had drawn. The women that looked back at him seemed uncommonly stern. Had he seen them that way this afternoon? He tried to soften their features with a few light strokes, but they changed very little. The sisters’ haughty noses and pursed lips defied his gentle efforts.
    Poor Cally.
    Andrew shook himself and tossed the sketchbook aside. She had spit in his face twice. His arm still smarted where she had cut him. She had threatened to stab him with a butcher knife. Which reminded him of a drawer full of weapons he had forgotten to return to her. Forgotten! He was almost afraid to return them to her.
    He should be feeling sorry for the ladies. Stern was the least of what Cally DuBois needed.
    Wasn’t it?
    The sun was streaming into the soddy when Cally fixed her breakfast. She had rescued her tomato patch the day before, washing and canning the ripe fruit and throwing the rotten ones to her chickens. She had been certain that she would sleep soundly after working so hard, but her night had been filled with strange dreams.
    Of course, she had buried her father yesterday; she might have expected some unsettling dreams. But not like these. These had nothing to do with her father. The first dream, at least the first one she