Santa Fe Woman by Gilbert Morris Read Free Book Online Page B

the most prominent feature, and he had a rather foolish grin.
    “Can you tell me how to find the sheriff’s office?”
    “Why shore, ma’am. Go on down to that big street there, and you take the second turn. Ain’t no trouble to find. Anybody can tell you. You in trouble that you need a sheriff?”
    Jori smiled at the man’s curiosity. “Not really,” she said. “Thank you very much.” Stepping inside the station, she found herself facing a small man with a face turned blue by the cold who greeted her at once. “Help you, miss?”
    “I’d like to leave my luggage here, please.”
    “I’ll take that for you.” The agent took Jori’s bag, but before putting it way, he cocked his head to one side then asked, “Staying long in town, are you?”
    “Not too long,” Jori smiled, wondering if everyone in Fort Smith examined newcomers. Stepping outside, she followed the wide cinder path that led to the main street. The two lines of false front stores and shops were flung out apparently without thought, for they did not align themselves with the main street. As she moved forward she found herself depressed by the town. The people she passed, both men and women, were roughly dressed, and most men, it seemed, chewed tobacco.
    As the train bellowed shrilly and left the town behind, Jori made her way down to the boardwalk that lined the edges of the streets. She passed by a hardware store, a blacksmith shop, and amilliner’s with delicate hats in the window, which surprised her. What woman living in this mudhole would buy fancy hats?
    As she drew even with one of the saloons, a sudden explosion startled her. A man sitting in a chair tilted back against a storefront had just fired down the alleyway at some sort of target that she could not see. Twisting his head, he grinned at her and lifted the rifle. “Howdy, ma’am. You’re new in town, I reckon?”
    Does everybody want to know your personal business in Fort Smith? Jori thought with some irritation. The man turned his head slightly and loosed a flow of amber tobacco juice. Some of it hit the ground, some ran down his beard which was already crusted.
    “I’m looking for the sheriff’s office.”
    “Why, you want me to take you down there, sweetheart?”
    “No, thank you. If you could just tell me how to find it.”
    “Go right down that there street and take the next turn to the right. If you’re stayin’ in town, they’re havin’ a dance tonight. Maybe me and you can do some fancy dancin’.”
    “Thank you, no. I won’t be here that long.”
    Jori continued down the street until she reached the intersection. She turned right and at once saw a sign across the street: JAIL AND SHERIFF’S OFFICE.
    “Hey, there, honey, come on up! You look like you need a real man!”
    Startled, Jori looked up to see two barred windows, both of them outlining men who were staring down at her. They called down with crude remarks, and she hurriedly entered the office.
    “Well, ma’am, you caught me off guard.”
    The speaker was a rotund individual but appeared hard as a rock. He was sitting in a chair with one bare foot up on the desk and a pair of huge shears in one hand. He held the footsteady with the other hand and took a cut. The toenail sailed off, and the individual grunted with satisfaction. “Pardon me, ma’am. Didn’t expect no visitors. I’m Sheriff Oswalt.” He stuffed his foot into a boot and came to his feet. His eyes were an unusual shade of gray, and he had a huge sweeping mustache that almost hid his mouth. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
    “My name is Jori Hayden. I need to speak to one of your prisoners, Sheriff Oswalt.”
    “Well, now, which one would that be, Miss Hayden?”
    “His name is Rocklin.”
    “Oh, yeah, Chad. You be wantin’ to see him?” For a moment he struggled, and Jori was certain that he was attempting to keep himself from asking, Why would you want to see him? He managed to overcome the temptation, and suddenly Jori