The Lone Sheriff. Lynna Banning

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter Three

      “Sheriff? Sheriff, wake up!”

      Something joggled Jericho’s shoulder. “Go ’way,” he mumbled.

      “Can’t, Sheriff. You gotta wake up.”

      Jericho cracked open one eyelid to see his deputy standing over him. The kid better have a good reason for breaking into a damn good dream.

      “Why do I?”

      “Sorry, Sheriff. Maybe you forgot you’re s’posed to meet that detective lady for breakfast?”

      Jericho shot upright and instantly regretted it. His temples pounded and he snapped his lids closed against the bright light. “You sure?”

      “Eight o’clock, Sheriff. Least that’s what you said last night. But that was before—”

      “Yeah? Before what?” The kid’s face seemed kinda out of focus.

      Sandy studied his boots. “Uh, before you polished off that bottle of whiskey.”

      Jupiter, now he remembered. Sort of. His head throbbed and his mouth felt as dry as an empty well. And his stomach—

      He’d think about his stomach later. He dragged himself off the cot and pulled on jeans and a clean shirt. He’d skip shaving; he couldn’t really focus on anything, much less see his face in the mirror. Besides, it was hell to shave left-handed.

      “She sure is pretty.”

      “Who?”

      “Miss O’Donnell. Sheriff, didn’t cha even notice?”

      “Don’t get your hopes up, son. It’s Mrs. O’Donnell. And she’s leaving on the noon train.”

      Sunshine poured through the front windows of the restaurant like the eye-stabbing beam of a lighthouse. God help him, he could barely see through his slitted lids.

      He spotted Mrs. Detective perched primly at the corner table, spooning sugar into her coffee.

      “Good morning, Sheriff.”

      He winced. Did she have to sound so cheerful?

      “Mmm-hmm,” he grumbled. He took the chair across from her, facing away from the glare. Rita appeared at his elbow.

      “Coffee,” he managed.

      Maddie looked up. “I will have three eggs over easy, bacon cooked very crisp, fried potatoes and some ketchup, please.”

      Jericho’s stomach heaved at the description. “Just coffee, Rita,” he repeated. “And could you please bring it in the next sixty seconds?”

      The plump waitress must have sensed his desperation because an entire pot immediately appeared before him, along with an oversize mug.

      Jericho eyed Mrs. Detective through the steam rising from his cup. There was something annoying about a woman who looked this trim and tidy at breakfast. And this pretty. She sent him a wide smile and, without thinking, he nodded.

      Big mistake. Any motion made his vision blurry and his head... He groaned. His head felt like a railroad crew was laying track between his temples.

      She pulled out her notepad and pencil and plopped them onto the tablecloth beside her. “Well, Sheriff, would you care to hear my observations thus far?”

      Jericho blinked. “Observations? You mean what you’ve learned so far about the Tucker gang?”

      “Oh, no. I mean in general. It’s always wise to gather background information, don’t you agree?”

      He gulped down another mouthful of the scalding coffee. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

      She flipped open the small leather-covered book. “First, your deputy—Sandy, is it?—is too sensitive to be much help on this mission.”

      Too sensitive? Exactly what did that mean? Did she think he was going to feel sorry for the outlaws? He gripped the coffee pot handle in a stranglehold and refilled his mug.

      “Second, Mr. Ness, at the mercantile, does not like you.”

      “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. Carl doesn’t like anybody much. Even his wife.”

      “Has there been trouble in the past between you and Mr. Ness?”

      “Yeah. Small stuff, mostly. He sold me a sack of moldy potatoes once, and I confiscated a shipment of some Chinese herb he ordered because it was half opium.”

      Mrs. Detective nodded and went on. “Third, the hotel manager is cheating the Mexican couple who brought up my morning bath. Fourth—” She broke off and looked him over so thoroughly he wondered if his hair had gone curly overnight.

      “You look awful, Sheriff.”

      “Didn’t sleep much.” And he’d drunk more last night than he had in a dozen years.

      “It appears to me you are not yet awake.”

      Jericho snorted. He was awake enough to notice she smelled good, like lavender. “Is that your fifth observation?”

      “My fourth, actually. My fifth observation is that there won’t be another Wells Fargo gold shipment until Tuesday.”

      “Tuesday,” he repeated. He already knew that, but he was impressed СКАЧАТЬ