The Sheriff. Jan Hudson
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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.
In no time, Dean was hammering on the roof.
Mary Beth had barely cleaned up the kitchen when the casserole parade did indeed begin again. It seemed as if everybody in Naconiche dropped by—many, she suspected, out of simple curiosity, but nobody arrived empty-handed. One kind soul—an old classmate—even brought a small television set and a VCR, insisting that they were extras “just sitting around and gathering dust.” Another brought a stack of children’s videos with the explanation that her children had outgrown them. Katy was delighted. She insisted on watching Snow White immediately. Mary Beth fixed her a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich to eat while she watched the movie.
Dixie dropped by for lunch, bearing a box of toys and games for Katy. “My girls don’t play with these anymore,” she said, “and I need the room if you don’t mind hand-me-downs.”
“I don’t mind at all. We had to leave many of our things behind with a friend in Natchez. Katy’s a trouper, but things have been difficult for her. At least where I worked, she had children to play with.”
“Where did you work?”
“At a health club. I was an aerobics instructor, and Katy stayed in the nursery there while I taught my classes.”
“An aerobics instructor! God knows I need one—or will when Robert here is born.” She patted her belly.
“What will you need?” Ellen said as she came in the front door.
“An aerobics instructor,” Dixie said. “Did you know that Mary Beth taught aerobics in Natchez?”
“If she mentioned it, I conveniently ignored it,” Ellen said, grabbing a plate and filling it from among the goodies lining the bar. “I see Mabel Fortney has been here. Tomato aspic with lima beans. She brings it to every event and it’s ghastly.” She joined her friends at the table. “You do have some tasty items here, though. I swear, I wish there were a decent place for a woman to have lunch around here. I think I gained all my weight just eating hamburgers at the Burger Barn and chicken-fried steak at the Grill. Even their blue-plate specials are loaded with stuff better suited to loggers. But it’s either that or Mexican food, and I can handle just so many taco salads or enchilada dinners.”
“Lord, I hear that,” Dixie said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if this town had a tearoom like the one in Travis Lake?” Travis Lake was a larger town twenty-five miles away in the next county.
“Mmm-hmm,” Ellen said. Then she stopped and glanced from Dixie to Mary Beth.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dixie asked.
Ellen