Silent Night in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

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СКАЧАТЬ sheriff narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re not accusing Jasmine of something.”

      Wade shrugged. “I’m being careful, that’s all. Just because she’s out of prison doesn’t mean she didn’t do what put her there in the first place.”

      The sheriff grunted and looked over his shoulder. “Just keep your suspicions to yourself. The women in this town will have my badge if they hear I let you get away with that kind of talk. Besides, Jasmine told me about the postcard. She wouldn’t do that if she was planning something.”

      Wade picked his hat up from the seat beside him. “The real message Lonnie sent was probably in code so it wouldn’t matter if you did read it. And she probably figured you would find out about the postcard and she told you so you wouldn’t think anything of it. She was just playing it safe. That’s all.”

      “But the people in Dry Creek like Jasmine.”

      Some people had probably liked Al Capone, too. “Of course, they like her. Nobody plans a robbery by going around making themselves unpopular with folks. It attracts too much attention. People watch unfriendly people. They write down the license plate number for their car. They remember where they’ve seen them. No, nice is a much better cover if you’re up to something.”

      “I think you’ve been in this business too long. Nobody is planning anything.”

      “Does Elmer still have that fancy white Cadillac car of his?”

      The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “That car is old as the hills by now. No self-respecting criminal would want to steal it.”

      “Well, let’s hope not,” Wade said as he pushed his chair back.

      “She joined the church, too, you know,” the sheriff added.

      Wade nodded. That’s just what someone would do if they wanted to gain people’s trust, but he couldn’t say that to Carl. His old friend had never been as cynical as he was. “I’ll bet she’s joined the choir, too.”

      The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know that?”

      Wade just smiled as he stood up. He’d seen some sheet music in the bag the woman had on her shoulder, but he didn’t mind looking mysterious to Carl. “Just doing my job.”

      The sheriff and Wade walked out of the restaurant together.

      The cold wind hit Wade in the face and he pulled his hat down a little farther over his ears. The sheriff nodded and walked to the side of the café where he’d parked his car. Wade had to walk in the opposite direction.

      It had been a long time since Wade had been in the town of Dry Creek. Back then the homes all looked like mansions compared to the weathered old house on his grandfather’s farm. He’d spent his childhood feeling second-rate around the other kids here, especially at Christmas. His mother died when he was four and his father went to jail shortly after that, so the only one left to give Wade a present had been his grandfather.

      Wade knew a gift was never coming, but it took him years to stop hoping. In the meantime, he was embarrassed to have anyone else know he spent his barren Christmases out in the barn while his grandfather drank himself into a stupor in the house. Maybe that’s why he made up stories about imaginary Christmas dinners he claimed his grandfather used to make for them.

      Wade smiled just remembering. Every Christmas, he had gone out to the barn and planned the stories he’d tell the other boys about those dinners. He didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him so he climbed up to the hayloft where he kept his mother’s jewelry box and her old magazines. That’s where he found the picture of the coconut cake with raspberry filling that he said was his grandfather’s specialty.

      Wade had made it sound so mouth-watering the other kids practically drooled; he’d even agreed to copy the recipe for Carl one year.

      But now, looking around at the houses, Wade wondered if some of those kids wouldn’t have understood a hard Christmas. The town was very ordinary, maybe even poor. None of the houses were new and, even though each was set back from the main street with a fenced lawn, it was winter and no grass was growing. It felt strange to remember how he used to envy the kids who lived in these houses.

      Fortunately, by now he knew a man could have a good life without a family. And Christmas passed just fine with a drive-thru hamburger and fries.

      He shook his head slightly so the memory of the red-haired woman wouldn’t sit so clearly in his mind. He didn’t need to mess up his life by dreaming about her. She was like that coconut cake. Something nice to dream about, but nothing that was likely to ever come his way. He was glad the sheriff had tipped him to the fact that the women around here were planning for her to marry Conrad—that is, if the sheriff wasn’t wrong and she didn’t end up back in jail instead.

      He stopped a minute; he didn’t like thinking of her in a place like that. Then he sighed. His radar was good. That probably meant she was guilty as sin. Fortunately, it must also mean the church going was only a façade. If it was, he would have more in common with her than he thought. Suddenly, he was glad he was picking her up for dinner. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know her a little bit better. Maybe she wasn’t as much of an angel as she wanted people to think she was.

      Chapter Three

      Jasmine pulled the white curtain back from the kitchen window and looked out at her father’s farm. She wished she could just forget about Wade Sutton. The view out this window usually soothed her. Late-day shadows made the deep red barn look almost black. Even though it was winter, there was very little snow. Behind the barn, a mixture of dried wheat stalks and tall weeds spread over the slight hill. Night would be here soon, but she could still see well enough.

      Just looking out that far made her eyes feel restful after being in prison for so long. There were no concrete buildings or search lights in sight. Unfortunately, what her eyes kept coming back to was the new post on the hill. She could barely see it in the gathering dusk, but she knew it rose up in the area to the left of the barn where the barbed-wire fence trailed up the hill.

      Most of the wire fence on Elmer’s ranch sagged comfortably, but that particular section was stretched tight and kept in good repair. He said he wanted the divide clear between his land and the Sutton place.

      Her father was a stubborn man. Clarence Sutton was another.

      Several weeks ago, Clarence’s old donkey had wandered out of its barn, down the road and into her father’s lane. The animal had probably been looking for something to eat, but her father believed his neighbor had deliberately sent the donkey over to do mischief. Clarence, he said, always knew where his animals were and the donkey had a reputation for biting people. It had taken a bucket of oats to lure the donkey back to her barn and Clarence hadn’t even come out of his house to say a proper thank-you.

      Last week, in retaliation, her father had dug a hole and put a twelve-foot metal cross on the top of the hill that divided the two ranches. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, today he’d taken several heavy-duty electrical cords and ran them from the barn up to the cross so he could wrap strands of Christmas tree lights around it. Now, in the evening, he could walk out to the barn and flip a switch and the cross would flash with white and yellow and clear lights. It would all look like a big golden cross that some televangelist would use.

      Jasmine shook her head as she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see her father walk into the kitchen СКАЧАТЬ