Chapter Eight
AS MUCH AS IZZY WISHED for the days to slow down, Tuesday arrived anyway.
She tamped down the ever-present fear that Sheriff Wright would somehow know she was really the missing Sutcliffe “son” and kept her hands as busy as she could.
Tansy was grateful when Izzy offered to wash all the linens.
Being outside and working hard was better than sitting at the front desk, waiting for guests to ask her a question or hoping a particularly chatty new arrival might occupy her time.
But as hard as she worked, the hour crept closer.
“You’ll like Mrs. Wright,” Hale said as he waited for her to smooth down her hair.
Izzy stared at herself in the glass and wished it was appropriate to arrive for supper with a kerchief to hide the red. Or better yet, for her hair to suddenly change to a less noticeable blonde or a humble shade of brown.
“You look lovely,” Hale said after a moment.
His compliment warmed her from the inside out.
And when she looked at him, it made her forget her fears.
He watched her with a sort of yearning admiration that melted her heart.
It almost made her wish he’d toss away the promise they’d made to get to know one another and pull her into his arms right now.
That would certainly make her forget about being Izzy Sutcliffe for a while.
Her face warmed at the thought, and she looked down, hoping he couldn’t read her mind. “Thank you. You look very nice too.”
“Shall we?” He held out his arm.
Izzy swallowed hard and took it. There was no getting out of this dinner. Even if she feigned illness, she’d have to go at some point.
They were far enough away from Roebuck, Wyoming Territory, she reminded herself as they headed toward the front door. There was no chance the search for her would extend this far south. After all, how far could a boy on horseback possibly go?
“The sheriff and the marshal keep this town very safe.” Hale was saying the same thing he’d said to her at least three times already over the past few days. He likely mistook her nervousness for fear of outlaws.
If only he knew.
Izzy dug the fingers of her free hand into her skirts as they passed homes and businesses.
He was going to have to know at some point, if she was asking him for money.
She refused to lie to him about the purpose for the funds she needed.
But the asking—and the confession—weren’t going to be easy.
If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she was afraid he’d either reject her or tell the sheriff. Or both.
Of course, the longer she waited, the longer Papa and the boys had to wait in prison. And what if Carter wasn’t doing well? Prison was no place to recover from an injury as bad as the one he’d received. What if she waited too long and—
“The light in the office is on,” Hale said, stopping them long before Izzy was ready. He reached for the door of the sheriff’s office. “Let’s stop in here first and see if they’re ready for us.”
Izzy nodded as her heart shoved its way up her throat. Stepping into a lawman’s office, complete with cells in the back for people just like her, wasn’t anything she wanted to do. She clung to Hale’s arm as they stepped inside.
“Darby! Mrs. Darby.” Sheriff Wright stood up from behind his desk when they entered. “I must have lost track of time. Let me gather my things and we’ll walk over to the house. Edie’s probably fuming at me for being late.”
Hale laughed and said something conversational as Izzy’s eyes darted to the sheets of paper tacked to the wall nearby.
Sketched images of men stared back at her.
Wanted, they each read, with a list of terrible things following the word.
Her gaze tripped over each one, landing finally on a poster that held a familiar name.
Sutcliffe.
There was no first name listed, and the sketch only vaguely resembled Izzy—if she were a boy. But none of that kept her hand from flying to her throat. She could barely make sense of the words as her heart pounded in her ears.
Robbery.
Desperate.
Dangerous.
Red hair.
“Isabella?” Hale’s gentle tone halted the words stuttering through her mind. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go. Yes. Let’s.” It was all she managed to say. Hale was looking at her oddly again, as if he were worried about her.
“We’ll never see most of those fellows around here,” the sheriff said to her, gesturing at the wall of sketches as he led the way to the door. “Some of them would have to ride awfully far to get here.” He gave her a smile that Izzy supposed was to be reassuring.
Hale nodded in agreement. Izzy tried to smile, but the fear was making it awfully hard to keep pretending.
The sheriff’s house was close to his office, and they entered to the scent of roasted meat and some sort of sweet fruit.
Sheriff Wright gave them a broad smile. “It smells as if Edie’s made her peach pie.”
Izzy’s stomach rumbled at the thought. Finally, something to distract her from her worries! “How does she get peaches? Do you have them shipped in?”
“They’re tinned, but I do the best I can with them.” A woman who looked only a little older than Izzy, with light brown hair and dainty spectacles, entered into the parlor. “You’re late.” She tapped Sheriff Wright on the chest before turning to Izzy. “And you must be Mrs. Darby.”
Izzy returned her smile. Something about Mrs. Wright set her immediately at ease.
“I am, but please call me Isabella.” It felt strange, introducing herself that way, but she liked it.
Izzy was the girl who lived in a rustic cabin with her family, the one who’d felt entirely lost just a few months ago.
Isabella was a capable wife who helped run a boardinghouse.
“I’m Edie,” the sheriff’s wife said. She nodded toward the rear of the house. “Why don’t you come help me bring out the food?”
Grateful to be away from the sheriff for a few minutes, Izzy followed Edie.
“Would you like me to slice that bread?” Izzy asked, nodding at the loaf on the counter.
“Oh, please! I forgot all about it. Caroline at the general store brought me a new book, and I confess I spent too much time reading today instead of preparing supper.” Edie gave her a sheepish look.
“What is the book about?” Izzy asked, taking the knife Edie handed her. “It must be quite entertaining.”
“It’s about growing exotic plants indoors,” Edie said as she pulled the roast from the oven. “It’s fascinating. Now if only I can figure out how to get seeds for some of these plants . . .” She trailed off, and Izzy looked up to find her lost in thought.
“I thought you were going to tell me it was about a dashing knight and a lady-in-waiting,” Izzy teased. She couldn’t imagine a book about plants to be all that interesting.
Edie laughed and shut the oven door. “Let me know if you ever need a certain kind of plant. I make teas too, and salves.”
Izzy tilted her head, bread forgotten. “Are you trained as a nurse?”
“Oh, no, not at all. I’m just fascinated by plants and their uses. I’ve read a lot about them.” Edie motioned at Izzy to follow her. Izzy gathered up the bread, and they brought the food out to the table.
Sitting down with the group, Izzy found herself growing nervous again. She picked at the meat and potatoes, which were both dotted with herbs she didn’t recognize. The food was good, but the nerves fluttering in her stomach every time the sheriff spoke made it impossible to have an appetite.
“James tells me you’re worried about your safety in Crest Stone,” Edie said quietly as the men spoke of business matters.
Izzy clamped her hand around her fork. Of course, the sheriff had noted her reaction to his visit the other day. She wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed or thought it a kindness of him to mention it to his wife. Particularly when it wasn’t safety she was worried about at all.
“I lived most of my life on an isolated homestead,” she said to Edie. It was the truth, even if it had nothing to do with her nerves.
Edie gave her a kind smile as she set her fork down. “My family lived an isolated life too. It’s a brave thing to leave that behind for something new.”
Izzy’s heart ached. Edie’s eyes were warm and friendly, but there was something else there, too. Almost a kind of understanding that Izzy couldn’t place. “Where did you come from?” she asked out of curiosity.
“Kansas,” Edie replied. “My family was . . . not traditional. I was ready for a different sort of life. So, I came here and worked as a waitress in the restaurant at the Crest Stone Hotel.”
“Is that where you met Sheriff Wright?”
“Yes. And no. He was staying there, but I don’t think he noticed me until I fell in a mud puddle and he had to help me out.”
“A mud puddle?”
Edie grinned. “It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. I fell in the mud and ruined a book I’d borrowed. That was before I ran away from him.”
Izzy covered her mouth to keep from laughing. It reminded her too much of falling into the creek with Hale.
“Did you grow up nearby?” Edie asked.
“I lived most of my life in the Wyoming Territory,” Izzy replied.
“How did you meet Mr. Darby?”
“Oh . . .” Izzy flushed, uncertain how usual it might be for a man to place an advertisement for a bride in Crest Stone.
Edie grinned. “He worked with Dora and Penny’s mail-order bride service, didn’t he? They’re friends of mine. Dora Gilbert and Penny Young. They started the service for gentlemen here and in Canon City who wished to marry,” she added upon seeing Izzy’s confused expression.
“Yes,” Izzy said, grateful that Edie wasn’t appalled at the idea.
“What convinced you to take such a chance?” Edie asked. “I’m sorry, if that’s too intrusive, you needn’t answer.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” It was the last question Izzy wanted to answer, but she didn’t want Edie to suspect anything was odd about her.
“I was alone, and the only means I had of supporting myself was taking in laundry. I wanted a better life.” It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire truth. And it was the same as she’d told Hale.
She glanced at him just then, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she watched him converse with Sheriff Wright.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” Edie said, pulling Izzy’s attention back to their conversation.
“Thank you. My father is still alive. He was away all the time.”
“Away?”
Izzy’s throat went dry. Hale hadn’t asked her to elaborate on that. He’d filled in his own assumption. What could she say to Edie that wasn’t a lie? “Yes, with my brothers. I was alone, providing for myself.”
Edie tilted her head, clearly curious to hear more.
“The potatoes have such flavor. What did you cook them with?” Izzy speared a slice of potato, pretending to examine it.
“I used a bit of sage, salt, and butter.” Edie still looked as if she wished to redirect the conversation back to Izzy’s time in Wyoming, but Izzy pressed on, asking about sage and whether Edie could share a plant with her.
As Edie talked about what else she cooked with sage, Izzy forced herself to take a deep breath.
She was safe. Everything here was fine. No one could connect her to that description and poorly drawn image hanging in the sheriff’s office. As far as Hale knew, her name was Isabella Sutter.
She snuck another glance at him, and a pang shot through her heart. She’d have to tell him something, and soon. Or all of this was for naught. She did this to help her family, not to improve her own lot.
So why did the possibility of his rejection sting so badly?