The Mortality Principle. Alex Archer

best.”

      His feet were so big, his legs so long, Eli tripped twice on the four steps leading to the ground, and once again when he had to stop to open the gate.

      “So, the two of you are courting.”

      The sheriff’s tone—the mockery it held—sent a bolt of inner lightning up Bess’s spine, and again when the dirty glare she cast his way only resulted in his full-blown laughter.

      Crossing her arms, Bess demanded, “And what do you find funny about that, Sheriff Landers?” She’d put extra emphasis on his name. Helen called him Kirk, Bess didn’t. Not to his face. Her sister and Kirk were friends, she and he weren’t.

      He pushed off the rail. Although he was as tall as Eli, Kirk’s height fit him as well as the black pants, white shirt and black leather vest he always wore. He had several pairs of pants and white shirts—she knew from doing his laundry—but only one vest. And hat. It was black, too. Also unlike Eli, Kirk’s clothes molded to his shape like hide on a cat, proving there was a whole lot more to him than skin and bones.

      “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.” He brushed her nose with one finger as he walked past.

      More lightning flashed inside her. The thunder that rolled came from the sky. “He is the banker’s son,” Bess pointed out. It twisted her insides at how Kirk could make her feel like a child, which she was not. No more than her sister was. Even though Helen was twenty-three, four years older than her, neither of them had been a child for a long time.

      Kirk opened the screen door and drew it wider as he said, “Still set on becoming a rich woman, are you?”

      “Yes, one with her own house.” Head up, Bess marched through the door. “And you best be careful.”

      “Why?”

      “Because a married woman can hold a seat on the town council.” She didn’t plan on pursuing such a thing, but couldn’t ignore the chance to taunt him.

      He arched a dark eyebrow, the same shade of brown as the hair on his head. “Oh?”

      “Yes.” All of a sudden the idea of marrying Eli grew possible again. That happened. When Eli wasn’t around—not talking her deaf—she could imagine marrying him. There were other eligible men in Beaver Creek, but Eli was the only one with enough money to get her out of here. His father owning the bank and all. That’s what she had to do. Go back to Alabama. She wasn’t stupid. Things would never be like they had been before the war. Before her parents died. Before she and Helen came to Kansas to live with Aunt Martha. But if she didn’t leave, Helen would never get on with her own life.

      Things might have been different if Aunt Martha hadn’t died only weeks after they’d arrived. Helen had stepped right in, running the boarding house as if she’d been doing it her entire life, and that’s when Bess saw history repeating itself. Her sister putting everyone’s needs before her own.

      “Why should it matter to me if you’re on the town council?”

      The air in Bess’s lungs rattled. Kirk’s eyes were surrounded by dark lashes, making their periwinkle twinkle more prominent. All this sure would be easier if he were as homely as Eli, or if Eli were as handsome as Kirk. Handsome, though, wouldn’t get her out of Kansas.

      “Because,” Bess snapped, “when I’m on the town council, I’ll see we hire a new sheriff. One who goes about chasing down outlaws rather than—” a clash of thunder filled in the blank that had formed in her mind “—worrying about storms.”

      He laughed while closing the door. “Well, if your new sheriff is foolish enough to let outlaws enter Beaver Creek, then he best be prepared to chase them down.” Walking past the staircase leading to the second floor, he said, “But he still better worry about storms.”

      Bess had the desire to stick her tongue out at him, but he already treated her like a child, and she didn’t need to give him more cause to do so.

      Huffing out a breath, she followed him through the dining room and into the kitchen. That’s where Helen usually was, and Kirk always looked for Helen first thing.