The Sheriff (Historical Romance) by Nan Ryan

the dust she’d stirred, and looked inside. Dishes. Fine bone china dishes banded in gold. She held up a fragile plate, blew the dust from it and admired it. Then she carefully lowered it back to the carton.
    She was opening another box when Cal’s furious scratching and mewling commanded her attention. She turned to see the cat vigorously clawing at a covering of heavy burlap that was draped over a large gilded frame holding a painting or mirror. Cal’s sharp claws snagged in the rough burlap and he yanked at it until the burlap fell away and pooled on the floor.
    Kate went over to investigate.
    “Oh my,” she murmured aloud.
    A portrait of a grand old lady with a gaunt, pale face, dark hair and deep-set, penetrating eyes sat looking back at her. The woman wore an elegant gown of shimmering taffeta, and diamonds and rubies graced her throat and sparkled on her fingers.
    Arielle VanNam Colfax.
    Kate stared, transfixed, feeling as though she was being watched from beyond the grave.
    “Where’s the gold, Auntie?” Kate asked aloud.“It’s me, Kate. Your great-niece. The one to whom you left your inheritance.”
    The lady in the portrait continued to hold her regal pose and fix Kate with those piercing eyes.
    Kate said, “Aunt Arielle, you belong upstairs.”
    Warning Cal to stay out of her way, Kate struggled to get the heavy oil painting up the stairs and into the drawing room. There she leaned it against the wall beside the black marble fireplace, and carefully cleaned the dust and cobwebs away from the portrait and its heavy frame.
    “Soon as I get the mansion restored,” she promised the lady in the painting, “I’ll hang your portrait above the fireplace where it belongs.” Then she said, “You believed there was gold in the Cavalry Blue, didn’t you, Aunt Arielle?”
    The lady in the portrait revealed nothing.

Fifteen
    A s Kate prepared to go into town on that warm Saturday morning, she told herself she hoped to high heaven she wouldn’t be unlucky enough to encounter the overbearing town sheriff. Nonetheless, she chose one of her better dresses and brushed her hair until it shone. After all, she might see her handsome new suitor, the charming Winn DeLaney.
    Wishing she had a parasol so she didn’t have to conceal her hair, one of her best features, Kate reluctantly drew on her straw bonnet, picked up her reticule, waved goodbye to the lady in the portrait and walked out the front door, with Cal trailing after her.
    “No, you are not going with me, you bad cat. Stay here!” she commanded, and the cat stopped, glared at her, then stretched out on the porch. Kate smiledand said, “I’ll be back soon.” Cal pointedly ignored her. “Be a good boy while I’m gone.”
    On the short walk through the pine forest, she planned how she would go directly to Barton’s Emporium and pick out a pair of dainty white kid gloves to wear to the theater that evening. The gloves were an extravagance she couldn’t really afford, but she wanted look like a refined lady for this special evening.
    Once she’d purchased the gloves, perhaps she would stop in and say hello to Dr. Ledet.
    When Kate reached the buildings of town, her breath grew short. She assumed it was the high altitude combined with the growing heat of the day. She stopped where the wooden sidewalk began, took off her bonnet and carefully smoothed her hair.
    Barton’s Emporium and Dry Goods was three blocks away. If she stayed on this side of the street and walked directly to Barton’s, she would have to pass the city jail. She considered crossing the street in an effort to avoid a possible brush with the sheriff, but she immediately checked herself. She was anything but timid or submissive, and she had no intention of allowing the marshal to influence her behavior. She wasn’t about to slink around Fortune in constant fear of bumping into Travis McCloud.
    Kate lifted her chin and set out down the sidewalk. But as she neared the city jail, she could