Don’t deny it. I can read the signs same as I can with Jim.”
“I’m not out of sorts with you, Jenny. I’m out of sorts with myself.”
Jennifer gave her a thorough look, measuring Tru’s words against what she saw in her face. “All right. I believe you. You follow your conscience where Mr. Bridger is concerned and don’t pay me any mind. Jim never does and we bump along all right. It’s six years that we’ve been married.”
“Seven,” Jim said.
Jennifer shook her head and mouthed the word “six” to Tru. “Maybe you’ll stop by after dinner tomorrow?” she asked. “You’ll take your meal at the hotel, won’t you?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“I’ll look for you anyway. If it makes a difference to you, Walt’s dropping by in the afternoon to pick up a couple of molasses pound cakes that Mrs. Sterling ordered for dessert.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Tru pulled her mittens and scarf from the sleeve of her coat before she put it on. Once she was properly bundled, she bid them good evening.
Jim finally looked up from his book. “Always nice chatting with you, Tru.”
* * *
Cobb folded his cards, laid them on the table, and waved the pot in the direction of Ted Rush. The hardware store owner cackled gleefully as he raked in his winnings. It was all Cobb could do not to wince at the sound. The other men at the table showed their annoyance outright. Jake Davis stuck his index finger in his ear and wiggled it. Richard Allen screwed his face so hard to the left it looked as if he’d erased all the features on the right. Harry Sample from the land office had a few choice words for Ted, none of which Ted took offense to.
Cobb pushed his chair back. “I’m stepping out for a spell,” he said, getting to his feet. “Losing three hands in a row makes me think I need some fresh air.”
“Another whiskey would do you good,” Ted Rush said. “’Course, it would do us better.” This time when he cackled at his own humor, Richard Allen cuffed him on the back of the head.
Cobb abandoned the table before he cuffed Rush himself. He glanced back at the bar and gave Walt a finger salute as he stepped outside.
The saloon had an outside entrance separate from the hotel. An archway on the inside connected the establishments, but overnight guests could come and go without stepping into the saloon if they wished to avoid it. Rocking chairs lined the long porch that fronted the hotel. The saloon did not invite lingering on the wrong side of its doors.
Cobb glanced in the direction of the rocking chairs, but it was too chilly to make a seat there tempting. He elected to shake off his unrest by walking toward the center of town. He estimated he’d gone about twenty yards before a figure turned the corner from the drugstore and stepped directly into his path.
Terrence McCormick was brought up short as well. He clapped his hands together, beaming as he recognized Cobb. “How about this?” he said. “And wasn’t I just on my way to the Pennyroyal to see you. It’s providence, that’s what it is. Could be that folks are right about you. C’mon. I’ll walk with you. We can talk about this marshal business as we go.”
Chapter Four
It was not the molasses pound cake that decided Tru in favor of dining in the hotel on Wednesday evening. Plain and simple, it was Cobb Bridger. In spite of the way he regarded her as though she were a puzzle with too many missing pieces, she favored his company. It was not as if anything would—or could—come of it. She reminded herself of all the ways that spending time with Cobb was different from spending time with the last man who had wanted her to be his dinner companion. For all his scrutiny, she could allow that at least Cobb Bridger wanted to know her. Andrew Mackey III, on the other hand, thought he already did.
It was a fine distinction, but in Tru’s mind, an important one, and Mrs. Sterling would just have to accept her decision.
She waited
“I’m not out of sorts with you, Jenny. I’m out of sorts with myself.”
Jennifer gave her a thorough look, measuring Tru’s words against what she saw in her face. “All right. I believe you. You follow your conscience where Mr. Bridger is concerned and don’t pay me any mind. Jim never does and we bump along all right. It’s six years that we’ve been married.”
“Seven,” Jim said.
Jennifer shook her head and mouthed the word “six” to Tru. “Maybe you’ll stop by after dinner tomorrow?” she asked. “You’ll take your meal at the hotel, won’t you?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“I’ll look for you anyway. If it makes a difference to you, Walt’s dropping by in the afternoon to pick up a couple of molasses pound cakes that Mrs. Sterling ordered for dessert.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Tru pulled her mittens and scarf from the sleeve of her coat before she put it on. Once she was properly bundled, she bid them good evening.
Jim finally looked up from his book. “Always nice chatting with you, Tru.”
* * *
Cobb folded his cards, laid them on the table, and waved the pot in the direction of Ted Rush. The hardware store owner cackled gleefully as he raked in his winnings. It was all Cobb could do not to wince at the sound. The other men at the table showed their annoyance outright. Jake Davis stuck his index finger in his ear and wiggled it. Richard Allen screwed his face so hard to the left it looked as if he’d erased all the features on the right. Harry Sample from the land office had a few choice words for Ted, none of which Ted took offense to.
Cobb pushed his chair back. “I’m stepping out for a spell,” he said, getting to his feet. “Losing three hands in a row makes me think I need some fresh air.”
“Another whiskey would do you good,” Ted Rush said. “’Course, it would do us better.” This time when he cackled at his own humor, Richard Allen cuffed him on the back of the head.
Cobb abandoned the table before he cuffed Rush himself. He glanced back at the bar and gave Walt a finger salute as he stepped outside.
The saloon had an outside entrance separate from the hotel. An archway on the inside connected the establishments, but overnight guests could come and go without stepping into the saloon if they wished to avoid it. Rocking chairs lined the long porch that fronted the hotel. The saloon did not invite lingering on the wrong side of its doors.
Cobb glanced in the direction of the rocking chairs, but it was too chilly to make a seat there tempting. He elected to shake off his unrest by walking toward the center of town. He estimated he’d gone about twenty yards before a figure turned the corner from the drugstore and stepped directly into his path.
Terrence McCormick was brought up short as well. He clapped his hands together, beaming as he recognized Cobb. “How about this?” he said. “And wasn’t I just on my way to the Pennyroyal to see you. It’s providence, that’s what it is. Could be that folks are right about you. C’mon. I’ll walk with you. We can talk about this marshal business as we go.”
Chapter Four
It was not the molasses pound cake that decided Tru in favor of dining in the hotel on Wednesday evening. Plain and simple, it was Cobb Bridger. In spite of the way he regarded her as though she were a puzzle with too many missing pieces, she favored his company. It was not as if anything would—or could—come of it. She reminded herself of all the ways that spending time with Cobb was different from spending time with the last man who had wanted her to be his dinner companion. For all his scrutiny, she could allow that at least Cobb Bridger wanted to know her. Andrew Mackey III, on the other hand, thought he already did.
It was a fine distinction, but in Tru’s mind, an important one, and Mrs. Sterling would just have to accept her decision.
She waited
Similar Books
