Read The Bride's Prerogative for Free Online

watch things for me while I’m sheriffing, I guess.” Ethan sighed. “Can’t say I like this turn of events.”
    Gert laid her hand on his sleeve for an instant. “You’ll do fine, Ethan. Just fine.” She pulled her hand back lest he think she was being forward.
    “Well, thank you kindly. Guess I’ll go see if Hiram’s done.” He walked toward the door and clapped his wilted hat on when he reached it. As he half turned to close the schoolroom door behind him, his gaze again met Gert’s, and he gave her a curt nod.
    She stood looking at the closed door for a long moment until Mrs. Landry called, “Gert, is that Laura Storrey’s dish?”

    Ethan walked out of the school yard and looked toward the grave site. Sure enough, Hiram and Griffin were out there, filling in the last few shovelfuls of dirt. He took a few steps toward the graveyard, then stopped.
    Since when did he need a friend to go with him into a scary, dark place? Not since he was a boy. Maybe it was time he faced reality. When his enlistment expired after the Indian wars, he had come back here looking for some peace and quiet. He minded his own business and worked his own land. Now the townsfolk wanted him to mind everyone else’s business and make sure no one tried to mess with their property. Not Ethan’s choice, not by a long shot.
    But that seemed to be the hand God had dealt him. He frowned and pulled his hat off so he could scratch his head. Somehow it didn’t seem quite right to think of God dealing him a poker hand.
    “You understand, Lord,” he mumbled. “It’s what You gave me, I reckon. So I guess that means I have to play it out.”
    He sighed and turned back to the school yard. He’d left his paint gelding tied to the hitching rail there before the funeral. Little did he expect when he’d left his ranch this morning to come home a lawman. He might never get that fence strung.
    Scout stood with his head drooping, sound asleep.
    “Hey, fella.”
    The paint whickered as Ethan untied the lead rope and stowed it in his saddlebag. He took out the bridle and held the bit up. The gelding smiled then opened his teeth enough for the curb to slip into his mouth. Ethan slid the headstall over Scout’s ears and buckled the throat latch. He stood stroking the horse’s long, sleek neck for a moment, knowing he was stalling.
    At last, he tightened the cinch and swung into the saddle. Scout minced around toward the ranch. “Not yet, boy. We got one more stop to make.” Ethan reined him the other way, toward the center of town.
    The main street seemed strangely subdued in the waning afternoon. Half the buildings stood empty since the bust that had followed the gold rush, but usually folks were about this time of day. Ethan guessed they’d either had enough socializing at the funeral or had gathered in small groups indoors to keep discussing the recent events.
    Scout’s hoofbeats echoed off the facade of the three-story building that used to be a boardinghouse. Those were the days, when the miners poured into town to have their gold dust weighed and find a hot meal and a stiff drink. But the boardinghouse had stood vacant for nigh on ten years. Ethan had been only eleven when his family moved here, but the town’s population had been at least triple what it was now. He remembered the time when three general stores served the needs of the hundreds of miners with claims in the area.
    A few of the old buildings had been cannibalized for lumber, but most were still owned by someone who objected to such activity. In fact, a large proportion of the vacant buildings were owned by Cyrus Fennel. He’d bought up a lot of property, in town and outside it, when the boom collapsed. Cyrus kept saying the town would prosper again and then he’d make a fortune selling the storefronts and empty houses. And if anyone tried to steal lumber off one of his buildings, Cyrus put the law on them. Ethan wondered if he’d have to lock people up for pilfering