school class.”
“But he looked so different today. On Sundays he’s just a regular fellow.”
“Did you tell him I needed to see him or did you stand on the sidewalk blinded by the light?”
“I told him, and I’m not leaving this office until he comes by.”
“It’s the uniform.”
“And the star on his chest.” Mazy fanned her face. “Did you see stars when you first met Tern?”
“Well, not literally,” Lilly laughed. “I was only eleven. I was more interested in the beagle dog he had with him than I was in Tern.”
“But eventually you saw stars, right?”
Lilly twisted the gold band on her left ring finger. Just mentioning Tern spread warmth from her toes to the top of her head. “Yes, indeed I did. But if you want my advice, don’t let the stars sway you.”
Mazy shook her head, making her honey-colored curls jounce like bedsprings. “I’m not marrying him, Lilly. I just want to look at him.” Her eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Speaking of the devil,” she whispered.
Chanis Clay stood just beyond the partially open door. The screen squeaked when Lilly motioned him in.
“Ma’am,” he said, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm. “You needed to see me?”
He stood by her desk at full attention as if he were a soldier in a dress parade. The crease in his khaki pants was so sharp it was a wonder he didn’t cut himself pulling them on. His calf-high boots were polished to a high shine; the dark-brown leather matched his gun belt and the holster on his right hip. His dark, brilliantined hair was swept back from his brow and parted in the middle. The only thing marring his perfection was a small shaving nick on his chin.
“Yes, thank you, Sheriff. Mazy, perhaps you’d like to finish your lunch on the front porch?”
Mazy wrapped what was left of her sandwich in her napkin and stood. With two fingers she snagged the potato chipbag and tucked it under her chin so that she would have a hand to carry her sweet tea.
“Let me help,” Sheriff Clay said. Reaching to take the chips, his hand brushed Mazy’s cheek.
Mazy’s face pinked like apple blossoms. Her sandwich dropped, still wrapped, to the desktop. “I’m so clumsy,” she said.
Somehow, the sheriff wound up with Mazy’s sandwich and her chips, while Mazy carried her drink. Lilly heard the front door open and close before Chanis Clay backed into her office. He stood staring down the hallway for several seconds before he turned around.
Lilly thought she could detect a trace of sorrow in his clear blue eyes as he took the seat Mazy had vacated. It hadn’t been that long since his father was killed —shot in the chest by an intruder at the mine office. Chanis’s father, the first Sheriff Clay, had been forty-eight, a good and honorable man by all accounts. He left his wife and thirteen children; as the oldest at twenty-one, Chanis had big boots to fill.
“Something beyond strange has occurred,” Lilly said, leaning forward in her chair. “I seem to have acquired an abandoned baby.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the sheriff said, retrieving a small spiral-bound notebook from his breast pocket. “You seem to, or you did?”
Lilly took her time relaying all that had happened since Monday evening when Armina had become ill. Chanis listened intently, taking notes with the stub of a yellow pencil.Every now and then he’d stick the pencil in his mouth to moisten the lead.
“Do you reckon it fell off a hay wagon?” he asked when she had finished.
“A hay wagon?” Lilly said, puzzled.
“Sorry,” he said with the trace of a grin. “My daddy used to tease that there were so many young’uns in our family, some of us must have fell off the back of a hay wagon and rolled up in his yard.”
Lilly smiled, glad to see some humor in such a serious young man. “I thought the mother would come looking for the baby by now. I’m very concerned that something untoward has happened to
“But he looked so different today. On Sundays he’s just a regular fellow.”
“Did you tell him I needed to see him or did you stand on the sidewalk blinded by the light?”
“I told him, and I’m not leaving this office until he comes by.”
“It’s the uniform.”
“And the star on his chest.” Mazy fanned her face. “Did you see stars when you first met Tern?”
“Well, not literally,” Lilly laughed. “I was only eleven. I was more interested in the beagle dog he had with him than I was in Tern.”
“But eventually you saw stars, right?”
Lilly twisted the gold band on her left ring finger. Just mentioning Tern spread warmth from her toes to the top of her head. “Yes, indeed I did. But if you want my advice, don’t let the stars sway you.”
Mazy shook her head, making her honey-colored curls jounce like bedsprings. “I’m not marrying him, Lilly. I just want to look at him.” Her eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Speaking of the devil,” she whispered.
Chanis Clay stood just beyond the partially open door. The screen squeaked when Lilly motioned him in.
“Ma’am,” he said, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm. “You needed to see me?”
He stood by her desk at full attention as if he were a soldier in a dress parade. The crease in his khaki pants was so sharp it was a wonder he didn’t cut himself pulling them on. His calf-high boots were polished to a high shine; the dark-brown leather matched his gun belt and the holster on his right hip. His dark, brilliantined hair was swept back from his brow and parted in the middle. The only thing marring his perfection was a small shaving nick on his chin.
“Yes, thank you, Sheriff. Mazy, perhaps you’d like to finish your lunch on the front porch?”
Mazy wrapped what was left of her sandwich in her napkin and stood. With two fingers she snagged the potato chipbag and tucked it under her chin so that she would have a hand to carry her sweet tea.
“Let me help,” Sheriff Clay said. Reaching to take the chips, his hand brushed Mazy’s cheek.
Mazy’s face pinked like apple blossoms. Her sandwich dropped, still wrapped, to the desktop. “I’m so clumsy,” she said.
Somehow, the sheriff wound up with Mazy’s sandwich and her chips, while Mazy carried her drink. Lilly heard the front door open and close before Chanis Clay backed into her office. He stood staring down the hallway for several seconds before he turned around.
Lilly thought she could detect a trace of sorrow in his clear blue eyes as he took the seat Mazy had vacated. It hadn’t been that long since his father was killed —shot in the chest by an intruder at the mine office. Chanis’s father, the first Sheriff Clay, had been forty-eight, a good and honorable man by all accounts. He left his wife and thirteen children; as the oldest at twenty-one, Chanis had big boots to fill.
“Something beyond strange has occurred,” Lilly said, leaning forward in her chair. “I seem to have acquired an abandoned baby.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the sheriff said, retrieving a small spiral-bound notebook from his breast pocket. “You seem to, or you did?”
Lilly took her time relaying all that had happened since Monday evening when Armina had become ill. Chanis listened intently, taking notes with the stub of a yellow pencil.Every now and then he’d stick the pencil in his mouth to moisten the lead.
“Do you reckon it fell off a hay wagon?” he asked when she had finished.
“A hay wagon?” Lilly said, puzzled.
“Sorry,” he said with the trace of a grin. “My daddy used to tease that there were so many young’uns in our family, some of us must have fell off the back of a hay wagon and rolled up in his yard.”
Lilly smiled, glad to see some humor in such a serious young man. “I thought the mother would come looking for the baby by now. I’m very concerned that something untoward has happened to
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