Wife Wanted in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

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      “I want to take some pictures. I guess the main thing is that the models have fresh faces and lots of heart,” she finally said. “They need to look sincere when they pretend to be in love. I often tell my models to think of food when they’re trying to look smitten.”

      Uncle Charley’s face brightened. “That’s a tip we can all live by. I love my wife’s cooking. Especially her sour cream raisin pie. Every time Edith bakes it, I fall in love with her all over again.”

      Just then there was the sound of a siren in the distance. Katrina saw Conrad’s jaw tighten.

      “Elmer called in the number before I left,” the older man said with a quick look at her. “I didn’t wait to hear what the sheriff said, but I guess they matched since he’s here.”

      “Sheriff?” Katrina asked. “What’s wrong?”

      Conrad knew there was no need to go over and open the door. Sheriff Carl Wall would find his way into the garage. His uncle had just been making sure the woman stayed here, Conrad concluded. That made sense, thankfully.

      Meanwhile, the woman had moved closer to the car so Conrad stepped around to block her. He didn’t know who those two boys were, but he didn’t want her to use them as hostages.

      Suddenly, it occurred to him. “They’re not drugged, are they?”

      “Who?” The woman turned bewildered eyes to him.

      “The boys.”

      He wondered if she would play the innocent until the end. He’d sure been fooled by her. He’d never tell anyone, but after seeing her tears he had been planning to put a new muffler on that old car of hers and not charge her a dime. Wouldn’t that have been something?

      The door to the garage opened and Sheriff Wall stepped inside. He pushed his worn Stetson back so he could see from beneath the brim. He was a solid man and he didn’t put up with much nonsense from people. He got his hair cut by Tracy in Miles City, too, so underneath his hat he was neatly, but conservatively, trimmed.

      “Conrad,” the sheriff said with a nod. Then he turned his head slightly and nodded again, “Charley.”

      He looked at Katrina. “Ma’am.”

      The sheriff had a gray wool jacket over his uniform and Conrad realized he was relieved the man hadn’t come in with his guns drawn. Catching a car thief would be high excitement for the sheriff, but he seemed to be taking it in stride.

      “What do we have here?” the sheriff asked in a mild voice as he stepped behind the car so he could see the license plate.

      “I’m sure the plates are current,” Katrina said. “They have the sticker on them for this year.”

      If Katrina had stolen that car, she was good. Conrad had to give her that. She sounded like a concerned motorist. But the sheriff needed to know everything wasn’t the way it looked.

      “She’s got two boys in the backseat,” Conrad said. “She doesn’t know them.”

      “I didn’t say I don’t know them,” Katrina protested. “I said they’re not mine.”

      “So you’re not married?” Charley asked.

      “What difference does it make?” she asked in surprise. “A woman doesn’t need a husband to drive a car.”

      Charley just beamed, his wrinkled face all scrunched up with a smile. Conrad knew what his uncle was thinking and he didn’t like it.

      “So is she the thief?” Conrad decided it was time to bring everyone back down to earth.

      “Well, it is a bit early to be making accusations,” the sheriff said. He walked around the car and looked in the windows.

      “What’s going on here?” Katrina demanded.

      The sheriff shrugged. “We’ll know soon. I have a call in to the officials on the Crowe reservation. They take care of their own problems. I don’t have jurisdiction there. I’m just looking into this as a professional courtesy.”

      “What problems?” Katrina asked. “Is something wrong with Leanne?”

      Conrad looked over and saw two heads staring out of the car. “Both boys are up now.”

      “Well, why don’t I have a little chat with them and see what they say,” the sheriff said as he turned to look in the car windows. Then he turned back to Conrad. “It might be best if you took the young lady into your office while I talk to the boys.”

      Conrad nodded. “Makes sense.”

      “And make sure she doesn’t make any phone calls,” the sheriff added. “She might be working with someone.”

      “I’m not working with anyone,” Katrina protested. “I mean, I didn’t do anything either so I don’t need a partner.”

      The sheriff grunted and looked at Charley. “Why don’t you go with them, too?”

      Conrad could see that Katrina wanted to protest, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked ahead of him with her head held high and that long hair of hers swinging again like she was some princess. Her back was straight with indignation.

      And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Uncle Charley leaned over and whispered, “Did you hear that? She’s single.”

      Conrad muttered low enough that only Charley could hear. “Give it up. We’ve got trouble enough.”

      He couldn’t stop watching her, though. Her high heels didn’t even wobble as she marched across the concrete floor. Which was more than he could say for his heart. He supposed it was only natural that, after he’d looked at that calendar a hundred times over the past week, he would feel some warmth for the woman in the picture. He had sense enough to know that had nothing to do with real life though. This woman could be a criminal.

      The three of them had no sooner stepped into his office than Katrina turned on them.

      “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she demanded. Her hands were on her hips and the color was high on her face.

      Conrad didn’t figure it was the time to say she looked magnificent.

      His uncle wasn’t so sensitive. “My!”

      Fortunately, the older man didn’t elaborate, but Conrad recognized the appreciation anyway.

      “The sheriff got a call,” Conrad answered. He figured she deserved to know. “The car you’re driving was reported stolen.”

      “That car belongs to my sister. She lent it to me so I could go out scouting around for places that look romantic.”

      “You mean like our stop sign?” Conrad asked in astonishment.

      Uncle Charley just stood there looking like a cat who’d found a bowl of cream. “Romance?”

      “If СКАЧАТЬ