Most Eligible Sheriff. Cathy McDavid
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where the wranglers left their vehicles.
Standing outside her car, she paused. The horse corrals were across the way. Beyond them, the arena, bunkhouse and, on the nearby hill, a half-dozen guest cabins. She should head toward the corrals. Scarlett had told Ruby to check in with the trail boss first thing upon arriving.
At the sight of so many people gathered at the corrals, she momentarily lost her nerve and ducked into the barn instead. Just for a few minutes, she told herself. Until she felt calmer.
The smell of hay and horses triggered memories of years gone by when riding had been part of Ruby’s daily life. She made her way to the four box stalls standing in a row. According to her sister, the working trail horses were housed in the corrals, and the barn served as a sort of infirmary.
Two stalls were empty. A third contained an old, swaybacked mare and the fourth a pony that poked its nose over the side of the stall and nickered at her. She couldn’t resist and reached out to pet the whiskered face.
“How you doing, little fellow?”
In reply, the pony pressed its warm nose into her palm.
“Hey, Scarlett, what’s going on?”
Ruby spun, alarm shooting through her in waves, and faced the woman who had come up silently behind her. Hoping her smile didn’t appear too nervous, she tried to place the woman from her sister’s descriptions. The owner’s wife? In her current disconcerted state, Ruby couldn’t remember.
“H-hi. I’m...ah...checking on the pony.”
“Mooney’s fine.” The woman smiled in return. “Her thrush is much better.”
Ruby mentally repeated the pony’s name and ailment for future reference.
“Lyndsey’s been taking care of her,” the woman continued. “Cleansing the hoof and medicating it.”
Lyndsey? That was one of the owner’s little girls. Could this woman be Annie, his wife? Ruby wished she could be sure. She didn’t dare call the woman by name for fear she was wrong.
“Well, good,” Ruby replied. “I’ll just mosey on over to the, ah, corrals, then.”
She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets, and then whipped them out, deciding the stance made her look uncomfortable. Which, she was, but she didn’t want to appear that way
“Stop at the house first,” the woman instructed. “I got a call a minute ago. Someone’s here to see you.”
“Who?”
There was a twinkle in her eyes. “Who do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“Cliff, of course.” The twinkle brightened. “He’s waiting in the kitchen. Come on, I’ll go with you. The first trail ride isn’t for another hour. You have plenty of time for a visit.”
Time, but no desire. Not until she was more acclimated to her surroundings.
The kitchen, Ruby recalled, was in the main house. Halfway there, she and the woman passed an SUV. She noticed the official logo on the side and came to a sudden stop, the alarm from earlier zapping the strength from her knees.
“Is that the sheriff’s vehicle?”
“What else would Cliff drive?” The woman took hold of Ruby’s arm to hurry her along.
“Why is he here?” Had the Las Vegas detective phoned the sheriff? Told him of the switch? If so, wouldn’t he have alerted Ruby?
Beside her, the woman blew out an exasperated breath. “Because that’s what men do when they’re dating a woman. They show up unannounced and surprise her.”
“Dating!” Ruby squeaked.
“Unless you have another definition for when a couple goes out six times in the past month.”
Scarlett had a boyfriend. Another boyfriend besides Demitri. And he was the local sheriff!
A rush of anger steadied Ruby. Of all the details not to share, her sister had to pick the most important one.
* * *
CLIFF DEMPSEY SAT at the long oak table, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. The next moment, he sprang to his feet and began pacing. What, precisely, was he doing here?
“Something wrong?” Sam asked.
His friend and owner of the Gold Nugget Ranch had joined Cliff in the empty kitchen. As recently as last week, a dozen guests would have competed for elbow room at the crowded table. Since completion of the new dining hall, the kitchen belonged solely to the staff.
“I probably shouldn’t bother Scarlett when she’s at work,” Cliff said.
“Don’t worry about it.” Sam nodded at the bouquet of fresh flowers lying on the table. “You asking her to the square dance this weekend?”
“Yeah.” Cliff nodded, wiping his damp palms on his khaki slacks.
As the law in these parts, he’d handled every situation from breaking up fights between drunken wranglers to singlehandedly taking down an armed bank robber to talking a possibly suicidal woman off the cell-phone tower at Grey Rock Point. Yet the prospect of inviting Scarlett McPhee to the dance had him sweating like a pig.
This was hardly their first date. It was, however, their first date after a recent lull. He and Scarlett had started out strong enough but this past week, she’d seemed to lose interest, not returning his calls and sounding distant when they did talk.
Cliff wasn’t sure what to make of it. Could be something simple as her having a case of nerves. Just because he was considering taking their relationship from casual to serious and wanted to test the waters didn’t mean she was, too. He was determined to find out.
“Nothing like waiting till the last minute.” Sam dropped into an empty seat. “The dance is the day after tomorrow.”
Cliff sat across from him. “I wasn’t sure I could get the evening off.” In truth, he’d stalled, doubting the wisdom of showing up unannounced. She may not appreciate it.
If he could go back in time to five minutes ago, he’d head straight to the station rather than call Sam’s wife looking for Scarlett because, par for the course, she hadn’t answered her cell phone.
“It’s none of my business,” Sam said, “but you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
Cliff pushed his cowboy hat back on his head, then took it off and set it on the table. “My aunt Hilda thinks I should get married.”
“It’s a nice state to be in with the right woman. I can vouch for that.”
“She thinks I should get married at the Mega Weekend of Weddings in June.”
“Whoa!” Sam sat back. “Kind of soon, isn’t it? That’s only six weeks away. You and Scarlett haven’t been dating very long.”
“Real soon. Hilda has it in her head the local sheriff marrying will be a big draw. Bring more tourists to town for the event. Registration is only about half of what the town council hoped for.”
Cliff’s aunt not only owned the Paydirt Saloon, Sweetheart’s most popular watering hole, she was also the mayor and a driving force behind the Mega Weekend of Weddings extravaganza.
The town of Sweetheart had a colorful history. It was founded by a pair of young lovers who met on a wagon train passing through. They married in California and returned to Sweetheart to settle down and raise a family. The man promptly discovered gold in the nearby mountains, and the town experienced its first boom.
Around the turn of the twentieth century, young couples began eloping to Sweetheart, their marriages officiated by a judge who didn’t inquire too deeply into a person’s age. The surrounding natural beauty drew tourists and outdoor recreationists, eager