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ranch with cattle and most likely earn a comfortable living selling beef to
the cavalry at Fort Apache, but the mere idea left a bad taste in his mouth.
Staying at the ranch would be like living off the old man, and that was
something he couldn’t do.
    Sheriff of Canyon Creek, New Mexico, he mused. It would be a
hell of a joke on the town.
    By the time he was halfway through the bottle, he had
decided to take the job.

Chapter Six
     
    Alisha took a last look in the full-length mirror that stood
in the corner of her bedroom, making sure her bonnet was straight. It was a new
bonnet, dark blue lined with a lighter blue silk. It had been imported from
France. She turned her head from side to side. It was quite the most becoming
bonnet she had ever owned, she thought, and then chided herself for her vanity
as she tied the long ribbons into a pert bow beneath her chin. It was rare that
she spent her hard-earned cash on such fripperies, but she had seen the bonnet
in a mail order catalog and sent for it before she could talk herself out of
it.
    The chiming of the courthouse clock reminded her she would
be late to preaching if she didn’t hurry, and that would never do. Turning away
from the mirror, she took a deep breath. Her mind had been in turmoil ever
since Mitch rode into town. Last night, she had almost burned her father’s
dinner. But how was she supposed to be able to think of mundane things like
cooking and teaching when he was back?
    Mitch was the new lawman. He had killed two men and foiled a
bank robbery. The news was all over town. People were calling him a hero. She
shook her head. What had he been thinking, to risk his life like that? And why
had he accepted the offer of the town counsel? He had never liked it here. Even
if he hadn’t wanted to get away from his father, he would have left just to get
away from the censure of the town. What was she going to do? Canyon Creek was a
small community. She was bound to run into him often, at socials, the Fourth of
July picnic, the Harvest dance, on the street, in the mercantile. At least she
wouldn’t have to worry about running into him in church!
    She pressed her hand over her heart. He couldn’t stay here,
he just couldn’t. Maybe she could talk to him, make him see how impossible it
was.
    Grabbing her reticule, she hurried from her room and flew
down the stairs. Outside, she smoothed her skirts, took a deep breath, and
pasted a smile on her face. It wasn’t seemly for the preacher’s daughter to be
seen running down the street, especially when she was also the schoolmarm. She
must always walk sedately and smile at everyone she met.
    She reached the church a few minutes later. Entering the
sanctuary from the side door, she took her place at the organ and struck the
chords of the opening hymn. She couldn’t help smiling as the congregation began
to sing “Shall We Gather At the River”. Nor could she help wondering what had
happened to the carefree girl who had once gone skinny-dipping with Mitchy…
    She stared at him, her eyes wide, unable to believe he was
serious. “I can’t go swimming now,” she said. “I didn’t bring anything to
wear.” She wasn’t a little girl anymore; she couldn’t swim in her drawers.
These days, she swam in an old shirt of her father’s and a pair of Mitchy’s
cut-off trousers.
    “You don’t need anything to wear,” he had replied with a
roguish grin. “I’m not wearing anything.”
    “Mitchy!”
    “Come on in, ‘Lisha. Don’t be chicken.”
    She crossed her arms over her breasts. “What if someone
comes?”
    “No one’s going to come down here at this time of night.
Come on.”
    “We’re here.” She tried not to stare at him. The water
covered him a few inches above his waist. She tried not to think that he was
naked beneath the water, tried not to notice the way the water glistened on his
sun-bronzed skin, tried not to stare at his broad shoulders, at the way the
setting sun caressed his hair,