At Home in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

held herself still. “That is, if you want me to work with you?”

      The sheriff felt his collar get tight and he swallowed. He should have worn his uniform instead of this suit. He’d never given any thought to a campaign. People around Dry Creek didn’t need a campaign to know to vote for him for sheriff. For one thing, there was no one running against him. But Barbara didn’t know that, and if she was working on a campaign with him, she’d have to spend time with him. That would keep her away from guys like Pete.

      It would also be easier for him and the FBI to keep an eye on her. Now that he thought about it, it was almost his duty to spend as much time as possible with Barbara Strong.

      The sheriff took a deep breath. “Sure. We could get together for dinner tomorrow night at the café and work out a campaign strategy.” His voice sounded a little strained, but he hoped Barbara wouldn’t notice. He seldom asked a woman out on a date. Not that this was a date. At least, he didn’t think it was. “I’d buy, of course.”

      “Oh, no, I couldn’t let you buy—”

      “No, it would be official campaign business.”

      Barbara pinked up for a moment and then she nodded. “Well, then, yes—I’ll ask Mrs. Hargrove to sit with the children while I step over to the café. But she might not be able to since it’s Saturday night and she needs to get ready to teach Sunday school the next morning.”

      The sheriff couldn’t help but notice how pleased Barbara looked. He could hardly keep his mind on Mrs. Hargrove. He sure wondered if this was going to be a date. But in any case, Barbara was right. They needed someone to watch the children.

      “I’ll talk to Mrs. Hargrove,” the sheriff said.

      “That’s right—I forgot you know her pretty well. She said you fixed her roof a couple of weeks ago.”

      “Just a few shingles. Nothing much,” the sheriff said. He didn’t want to derail the conversation by talking about Mrs. Hargrove’s chores. He knew there had to be a chore on her list that was worth a night’s babysitting even if it was a Saturday night. “Linda has a great steak special going on Saturday nights.”

      “She might agree to let us put some of your flyers in the café, too,” Barbara said.

      The sheriff swallowed. “We sort of need to make a flyer before we can pass it out.”

      Barbara brightened even more at that. “You mean no one’s done a flyer yet? Would it be okay if I worked on that, too? We’ll need a slogan. Something catchy. Something that sets you apart from your competition.”

      The sheriff felt his mouth go dry. He couldn’t not tell her. Not when her face was getting so excited. “About my competition…so far I don’t have any.”

      The sheriff closed his eyes.

      “Well, surely someone will run against you,” Barbara said. She frowned a little. “They probably just haven’t put in their name yet.”

      The sheriff sat up straighter. She was right. Someone could decide to run against him. It wasn’t likely, but it could happen. Maybe there’d even be a write-in campaign. One or two people usually wrote in a name on the ballot instead of voting for him. The name was usually Daffy Duck or Santa Claus, but legally it was a vote for another candidate. That had to mean something. He moved a couple of chairs closer to Barbara without even thinking about it. “It’s a good thing we’re going to do a campaign then.”

      Barbara smiled. “It’s always good to get out the vote. It helps the whole community. We need to think of things that would rhyme with Sheriff Wall.”

      “There’s all,” the sheriff said, noticing that Barbara had picked up the bouquet she’d caught and was holding it in her lap. He slipped over onto the chair next to her.

      “And a button, we’ll need a button,” she said. “Something in blue. People trust blue. Or maybe red. Red is power.”

      The sheriff nodded. He didn’t care if Barbara decided to dress him up in a clown suit and have him pass out suckers in front of the café. She was sitting next to him and talking and her hands were going a mile a minute.

      Saturday night was definitely going to be a date if the sheriff had anything to say about it. He smiled his best smile. “I appreciate anything you can do—for the campaign, that is.”

      “I’m handling the bakery while Lizette and Judd are gone on their honeymoon, but I can think about the slogan while I work.” Barbara held up the rose bouquet as though she was seeing it for the first time. “And, another good thing about this campaign is that it will help people forget I caught this thing.”

      The sheriff couldn’t ask what the first good thing was. He had a bad enough feeling in his stomach about the second good thing. “Why is that?”

      “Everyone talks during a political campaign. There’ll be issues and answers. People will forget I caught the bouquet and that I’m supposed to be the next one to marry. People think Lizette knows I’m hoping to get married again and that’s why she tossed me this bouquet. But I’ve told Lizette it’s just the opposite. I’m never going to get married again.”

      “Oh.”

      Barbara stood up. “I’m going to be a good citizen though.”

      “You can be a good citizen and married at the same time.” The sheriff thought he should point that out.

      It was too late. Barbara was already opening the door to go back inside the barn.

      Barbara looked around when she stepped back inside. She felt better than she had since she’d come to Dry Creek. This was the perfect solution to her problem. If she campaigned for the sheriff, people would surely see that she took a firm stand in favor of law and order.

      Granted, it wasn’t like being asked to do a fundraiser for the school or anything that involved money, but it was a start. The next thing she knew, she’d be asked to join the Parent-Teacher Association. Then maybe they’d ask her to pour coffee for the town at some event.

      She was so excited. She really was going to make a home for herself and the children here in Dry Creek. And, maybe while she campaigned for the sheriff, she’d mention to people that the town needed a streetlight. That showed even more civic spirit. Eventually, she’d have a normal life with a house of her own.

      And, just so she’d know the real house was coming, she’d work on getting herself that kitchen table for her and the children. It was time she learned to cook something besides sandwiches, and time they started having Sunday dinners at their own table. Fried chicken would be good. Or maybe a pot roast. Having Sunday dinners together was something Dry Creek families did, just like they hung their sheets on the clotheslines in the summer to dry.

      Barbara had noticed a clothesline behind Mr. Gossett’s old house. It had fallen down, of course, just like most of the things around the house. The good thing about the Gossett house, though, was that it had a picket fence around it. The boards weren’t white any longer and they weren’t all standing straight, but a coat of paint and a few well-placed nails would change that. She didn’t know what she’d do if Mr. Gossett wrote and said his nephew wanted the house so he couldn’t rent it out.

      No, that wasn’t true. She did know what she’d do. She’d just keep looking. She was going to make a home here or, at least have the satisfaction of knowing she’d done everything possible to make it happen.

      Chapter Five

      Meanwhile, in the pickup truck parked in the night shadows outside the barn, Floyd Spencer had been watching Barbara and the sheriff and muttering to himself. His timing had been lousy ever since he’d robbed that bank with Neal and Harlow.

      It’d been his first robbery and he’d since decided that he just didn’t have the stomach for crime. Everything had turned out badly. His two partners were behind bars and they were likely to turn informant