The Sheriff. Jan Hudson

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      She wanted to scream bloody murder and run somewhere, anywhere. Instead she pulled the quilt over her head and prayed, filling the time until morning.

      “MOMMY, MOMMY, WAKE UP.”

      Mary Beth opened a bleary eye as Katy shook her. She must have dropped off to sleep sometime after the storm passed.

      “Are you awake? Sheriff J.J. is here.”

      “Where?” she asked, throwing an arm over her eyes to avoid the morning light.

      “Here,” J.J.’s deep voice answered from the foot of her bed.

      She grabbed for the quilt and raised herself up on her elbows. There he stood, hat shoved back and thumbs hooked over the front of his gun belt.

      “How did you get in?” she asked.

      “The usual way. I knocked. Katy opened the door. Here I am. We had a heck of a storm last night. Trees down everywhere. I was just checking to see if you were okay, and if your power was on. Some areas lost electricity for a few hours.”

      She glanced at the neon sign behind the bar. It hummed and glowed its usual red. “It was off for a while, but the power seems to be back on now.”

      He stared pointedly at the huge pot on the floor. It was nearly full of water. “Looks like you had a leak.”

      “I had several. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

      “I’ve had coffee, thank you. I need to see about some other folks in the county. Want me to empty those pots for you?”

      “I can manage, thank you.”

      He snorted. “Like hell you can. That one alone must weigh thirty pounds.”

      “Sheriff J.J. said an ugly word,” Katy whispered loudly.

      “I noticed.”

      “Sorry about that. I can see I need to clean up my language. Please accept my most profound apologies, ladies.” He took off his hat and swept a low bow.

      Mary Beth rolled her eyes while Katy giggled.

      He hefted the big stockpot near Mary Beth’s bed and strode toward the kitchen. In a minute, he returned to take the other containers to the kitchen. She merely sat in bed with the quilt wrapped around her and watched.

      His task finished, he came to the foot of her bed. “Need anything else?”

      “No, I can manage, but thank you very much,” she said stiffly.

      “You’ve got a rat in one of your traps.”

      Her stomach turned over.

      He tipped his hat. “Ladies, I’ll be going now.”

      Darn his hide if he didn’t turn and sashay toward the door with that loose-hipped walk of his. “J.J.!”

      He turned and gave her an innocent “Yes?”

      “Would, uh—would you mind disposing of the—uh—uh—”

      “Rat?”

      “Yes, please.”

      He grinned. “Pretty please with sugar on it?”

      She ground her teeth. “Yes.”

      “Sure.”

      He started to the kitchen, and Katy danced after him. “Could I see the rat? Is it dead?”

      “Gruesome child,” Mary Beth mumbled, shuddering.

      She listened to Katy’s childish chatter interspersed with J.J.’s deeper voice and heard the back door open and close. In a few minutes she heard them return.

      Katy, still in her nightie and now with muddy feet, galloped in, grinning from ear to ear. “Mommy, we buried that scalawag. And we said some words over him, didn’t we, Sheriff J.J.?”

      A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “That we did, Katy. Gave him a right nice send-off.” He tipped his hat again. “I’ll be moving along.”

      Mary Beth watched J.J. go, torn between wanting to throw her sneaker at him and wanting to throw herself at him. Every time she was around him, she became more and more aware of his blatant masculinity. It radiated from him. She sighed. Despite her efforts to ignore the obvious, she had to admit that J. J. Outlaw was one sexy guy. Maybe it was because she’d been celibate for so long, but hadn’t she found herself thinking positively naughty thoughts about him since she’d been back in town? He’d always been good-looking, but the years had added a layer of confidence and experience that made him even more appealing. If only—

      She pushed the thought aside and rose from her bed. “If only” never changed anything. The past was past. She had to start thinking about today. And tomorrow. Soon utility bills would come due on this place, and bills had to be paid. She needed to come up with a plan. But first she needed to get dressed and fix breakfast.

      Shoving thoughts of J.J. to the back of her brain, she dressed herself and Katy and made a scrumptious meal from the bounty her neighbors had graciously provided.

      Mary Beth and Katy had barely finished eating when there was a knock on the front door.

      “The casserole parade must be beginning,” she said to Katy.

      “What’s a casserole parade? Is it like when you were queen?”

      “No. I was just teasing, sweetie.” She kissed the top of Katy’s head and went to the front door.

      A young man in a T-shirt and jeans stood there. He didn’t look to be more than eighteen or so. Blond with big brown eyes, he had a killer smile that must have set six counties of teenage girls’ hearts aflutter.

      “Mornin’, ma’am,” he said, tugging at the bill of his red ball cap. “I’m Dean Gaskamp. Wally Gaskamp from Wally’s Feeds is my daddy.”

      “Yes?”

      “I’ve come to fix your roof.”

      “My roof? But I can’t afford—”

      “Oh, there’s no charge, ma’am. I mean, I’m a roofer by trade, so I know what I’m doing, but working on yours is part of my community-service hours. If you don’t mind, I’ll just get to work.”

      “Community service?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did J.J. think up this community-service business and send you out here?”

      “Oh, no, ma’am. It was his brother Frank—Judge Outlaw, I mean—who thought it up. J.J.—I mean Sheriff Outlaw—called and told me to add you to my list. I’ll get on with it. With the storm and all, a bunch of folks are needing some help. I’ll get in a lot of my hours this weekend.” He tipped his cap, turned around and started unloading a ladder from the back of his truck.

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