Chapter 2

Narrator:

Now, as Sheriff Owens watched the kid walk away, he wondered when in the hell he'd gone wrong. Maybe he should quit the law and follow in his pa's footsteps to become a gold miner. He could make his own schedule, and aside from the occasional claim-jumper, he wouldn't have had to deal with people.

By the time he reached the jail house he was pert sure that's just what he was gonna do. He'd head on up to his pa's claim and start sluicin, without ever havin to see another person again. Sadly, when he stepped through the jail house door, all his dreams of solitude came to an abrupt halt. You see, he'd forgotten one tiny fact that would follow him no matter what he’d chose to do or where he'd chose to live.

His sister.

"Mrs. Vivian Galban is a lovely young widow."

Harris sighed. He walked to his desk, taking off his hat as he went. He didn't bother to glare at his sister. It was a waste of energy. "Anna, I am not paying court to another of your friends," he told her again. Over the last two years he'd been forced to met most of her husband hungry friends and none of the meetings had gone well, at least not from his prospective.

Enjoying a pleasant conversation about the weather didn’t mean he wanted to up and marry a lady. Most of the women were nice enough, but they were all about the same. Pleasant and nice and eager to marry. He wasn’t opposed to marriage, but he didn’t relish the idea of a woman marrying him when any other man would do just as well. Call him an old fashion romantic, but he didn’t want to be married just for the sake of being married. If he was to marry he’d prefer it to be for love.

As usual, Annabeth ignored his statement. Normally, he'd be perfectly content about that little fact, because quite honestly the more she ignored him the less he had to listen to or do for her. However, he really, really needed her to listen to him right now because he really really didn't want to meet another of her friends who only wanted him because he had a shiny badge on his chest.

"I've arranged for you to meet with her. She's a delightful woman who bought the tearoom a few weeks back. You know the building. Next to Clancy’s Assay Office and Mrs. Conrad’s Guesthouse. She's expecting you tonight at six o’clock."

"This clinches it. I'm moving in with pa," Harris muttered.

Annabeth heard him and laughed outright, "Ha! You won't even go visit him. You'd go crazy up there with only pa for company. Can you see yourself wearing months old clothing and cooking your own food? You're too lazy and spoiled to care for yourself."

“I don’t go see pa because all the old man does is yell at me about my job.”

“He doesn’t think it suits you.”

“Being a miner does?”

“We’ve already established that it does not.”

"Anna–"

"Six o'clock, Harris. Don't be late." Anna wiggled a wave with her gloved hand, and merrily exited. He hated sisters.

Fifteen minutes later Deputy Angus Day, who’d spent the morning rounding up a handful of rowdy silver miners who didn’t want to leave Mrs. Maddie’s Pleasure Pen, entered and hung his hat on the wall.

Harris held up the paper from Annabeth. "My future wife."

Angus, a square, blond man of average height and mild personality, grimaced a little, “I told her not to do it.” Then he shrugged. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I was there and Mrs. Galván wasn’t too keen on meeting you."

She wasn’t keen on meeting him? “She told Anna she didn't want to meet me?" That didn’t make sense. All of Anna’s unmarried friends wanted to meet him.

"Yep, just about. Said she had no interest in being courted by a man of the law. I think she only agreed because Anna kept pushing. You know how she does. Nice woman, Mrs. Galván, but way out of your league."

His back went up. “What does that mean?” Harris asked.

Angus shrugged his wide shoulders. “She’s, I don’t know, elegant. Classy. A wealthy city girl lost in the shrub brush desert. Trust me, Mrs. Galvan has no intentions of riding around on a buckboard making nice at the local cattle auction when it comes time for your reelection. She’s more likely to be guest of honor at the Mangly Mansion and find it lacking. I wouldn’t be surprised if she lives up on Billionaire’s Row. Her husband was probably a Kruvothian count or something. Or I guess with a name like Galvan probably Nerolian. Do Nerolians have counts? Anyway, the woman is elegant. She sure is pretty.”

Before Harris could gather his thoughts enough to take offense, the door swung opened and Beatrice Anders, one of the husband hungry every-woman women sashayed through, carrying a napkin covered basket. "Good afternoon, Sheriff."

He jumped to his feet. His pa might be a miner, but before he'd caught gold fever, his daddy been a bonafide city boy lawyer and was a stickler on how a gentleman treated a lady. Which meant Mrs. Galvan would be lucky to have a man like Harris, wealthy or not. "Good afternoon, Miss Beatrice. Is it Wednesday already? I do enjoy Wednesdays."

Beatrice giggled and put the glorious smelling basket on his desk. "Salusbery steak, today, Sheriff. With some of my mama's green bean salad, biscuits, and peach cobbler." She pulled towel covered plates out of the basket as she spoke the contents.

"Thank you, Miss Beatrice, I don’t know how I’d survive without kindness like yours."

"It’s my pleasure, Sheriff. Why what kind of lady would I be if I didn't see to the needs of our brave sheriff? I do hope we'll be seeing you at the fireman's pancake breakfast on Saturday."

"I'll be there."

She arranged each plate just so on the desk and said, "Did I hear correctly? The train was robbed this morning?"

"Yes, ma’am."

"Why that's terrible!” Her hand flew to her chest. “I'm so glad we have you protecting us from danger."

"I do what I can, ma'am."

Miss Beatrice gave him a sweet smile, “thank you for you dedicated service. Enjoy your meal, Sheriff.”

“Have good day, Miss Beatrice.”

With a swirl and sashay Beatrice and her empty basket were out the door, leaving Harris alone with a wonderful meal.

Angus, all but ignored by Miss Beatrice, chuckled. "I do what I can, ma'am," he mocked and took a large helping of of the cobbler.

“Hey,” Harris grumbled, “your wife brought you a basket of your own.”

Angus didn’t even look at the basket sitting on his desk. “You know the dessert in there isn’t as good as this one. Her pot roasts are magic but she can’t bake worth a damn.” He sat on the edge of Harris’ desk and continued, “the way I heard it you didn't do too much today but stand around looking befuddled.”

“Who told you that?”

“Ted. He said all y’all found was a bucket-fulla-nuthin’.”

Harris snorted and helped himself to salusbery steak. Angus ate a couple bites of Beatrice’s cobbler and said, “That’s the kind of woman you belong with, Harris.” He pointed his fork toward to door and then down to his cobbler. “A nice, sweet everyday kind of girl looking to be a sheriff’s wife. A wholesome woman looking for a decent man with whom to raise a few kids. Besides, I don’t think you can afford Mrs. Galvan. I bet her hat cost more than you make in a year.”

Harris frowned and shoved half a biscuit in his mouth to keep from telling Angus to shut up. True, any wife of his would have to economize, but that didn’t mean he was poor. He could afford to buy his wife a fancy hat. He made a decent living and if Mrs. Galvan couldn’t appreciate that, well, he was better off without her. He’d go meet her tonight and tell her straight off that he wasn’t interested.